#it said major character death right there and i was like man how bad could it be

[dreamofbecoming]

when you see a tag on a fic and you’re like ah this would have a negative psychological effect on me if i read it and then you read it and it has a negative psychological effect on you *shocked pikachu face*

[cherienymphe]

His Father's Son

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.

warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.

You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.

“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.

Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.

Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.

Now 8:03.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”

You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.

“Tell Wheezie-.”

“I already took Wheezie to school.”

The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.

“…oh.”

You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”

You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.

You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.

“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”

There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.

“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”

Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.

When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?

He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.

You loved him.

…and then he died.

With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.

…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.

Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.

Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

“Did you hear me?”

His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?”

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.

“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.

You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.

You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.

You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.

Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.

The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.

“Rafe-.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.

“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”

“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”

You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.

“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”

You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…

Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.

You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.

Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.

“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.

You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.

“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”

You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.

You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.

“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”

She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.

You forced yourself to ignore it.

“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”

“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”

At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.

“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.

You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.

It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.

“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”

At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?

“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.

“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”

You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.

“No…but…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.

“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”

The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.

“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”

You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.

“…but you don’t get it.”

Rafe looked between your eyes.

“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.

“Rafe…”

“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”

Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”

You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.

“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”

You looked away, avoiding his eye.

“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.

You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.

The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…

Much like he was doing now.

“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”

Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.

“Is she okay?”

It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.

You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.

“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”

You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.

“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.

“What…?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.

In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.

You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.

“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”

You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.

You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.

You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.

“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.

“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”

You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.

It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.

Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”

“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”

You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.

“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.

While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.

“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”

Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.

“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.

You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.

“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”

The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It’s family dinner night.”

You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.

“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”

“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”

When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.

“Why?” you chuckled.

Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.

“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.

You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.

“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”

You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.

“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”

You tilted your head at him when he looked away.

“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”

When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.

“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”

You blinked.

“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”

You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.

“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”

His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.

“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.

Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.

“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”

You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,

“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”

“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”

The younger girl didn’t respond right away.

“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”

That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.

“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”

You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.

When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.

“Things are going to be different, now.”

“Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”

“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.

“She’s grieving!”

“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”

You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.

“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.

The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.

“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”

You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s not…”

His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.

You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.

“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.

Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.

You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.

“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”

You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.

“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.

You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.

“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”

You sighed at that.

“Not necessarily, I just-.”

“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”

You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.

“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”

You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.

“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.

“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.

You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.

You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.

“Do not touch me like that again.”

Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.

“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.

“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”

His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.

The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.

“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”

As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.

In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.

“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.

“They already don’t like you…”

You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.

“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”

You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”

Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.

In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.

“I never have,” was his response.

“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”

You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.

“Why not?”

“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”

His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.

The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.

The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.

“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.

The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.

Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.

You wanted to gag.

His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.

Hard.

You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.

When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.

You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.

You wanted him out of the house.

…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.

You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.

You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.

Was this your fault?

Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.

Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?

As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.

…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.

You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.

She was right.

…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.

It was noticeable.

“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.

You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.

“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”

Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.

“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”

You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”

The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.

“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”

Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”

You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.

Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.

The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.

Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.

It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.

Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.

The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…

…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.

You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.

Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.

Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.

You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.

As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.

With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.

Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.

“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”

Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.

“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.

You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.

You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.

With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.

He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.

He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.

As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.

Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.

When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”

You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.

He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.

Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.

When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.

At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.

He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.

So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.

It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.

With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.

“My dad’s gone…”

The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.

“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”

He swallowed, looking between your eyes.

“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.

“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”

[hobicakess]

PLAYING DANGEROUS | (one)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: warnings: no thoroughly edited, EW Ai , character death (nothing to cry about), black/plus sized coded reader, talks of murder, talks of torture, corporate evilness, violence, Mc reads hobi to filth, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), one maknae introduction, maknae helping cause chaos, cigarettes, Yoonie is an angry kitty this chapter, bratty mc, mc is kinda a bitch (a bad one at that), unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday) SMUT— nothing too crazy , choking, sub mc , missionary, mating press , man handling (yummy)

a/n: HEYYY omg this took me so long to write and it's just a little over 2k words... LMAO I suck i know, but we're getting there I pinkie promise. I really hope you all enjoy this and constructive criticism is welcome!!

TAGLIST: @sumzysworld @bbgniecyy @paramedicnerd004 @heartsbr0ken @grltwin @superbbananananana @secfir @darkuni63 @thisladysperspective @p34rluv @secfir @sarcastic-cookie @coffeedepressionsoup @ot7nem @italiekim @cynicalbitch666 @jalexd @whenthebeatdrop-beatdrop

2 MONTHS BEFORE JACKS ESCAPE

Kim multimedia station.

The place of business was always busy and there was never not anything to be done, Endless reports and stories in need of being written, the podcast teams always chattering about the hottest topics.

KMMs was a journalist's dream — your dream.

You were a known face around the company both online and in person. A pretty foreigner who was damn good at her job and that made you favored by the late CEO Kim. You were always hand picked by him to attend press conferences in his favor. He treated you kindly, allowing you into a large world of business pulling strings to get you the best stories helping you— a once broke freshly graduated English major climbing up in the world of reporting.

It's only been three months since CEO Kim passed away and the company was changing fast. You were grateful that you weren't a part of the many that were fired and replaced by new faces and AI, and you were now noticing how low the viewers were on podcasts, social media and blogs.

KMM was dying out very slowly and that meant you might go away with it. You were dedicated to your work, and the company that helped you become the person you were today.

And you were willing to do anything to not be forgotten.

Sleeping was not on the agenda right now.

A quick double tap to a cell phone showed an awfully bright screen reading 4:40 am. You had been lying in your bed mind racing while staring at your wall for the past hour and a half.

Jack in the box.

Rolling out the tangled bedsheets and arms you pull on a large T-shirt that'd been discarded a long with the other items of clothing on the floor shuffling towards the desk in the corner of your room. Laptop already open from your previous research when you pull out a pack of cigarettes from your drawer before plunging deep into the web. Your mouse clicks every site as your pen moved furiously taking in all the information you can about said serial killer.

“On May 14th, 2018 Serial Killer Jack In The Box was finally caught after a murdering spree in Seoul. The killings of ordinary outgoing individuals taken with a quick swipe of a knife and a long torture method.”

"Before his kills Jack likes to taunt his victim. He ironically sends them a Jack in the box to let them know they're next. The next few days said victim lives in constant fear, looking over their shoulder, leading the mostly known outgoing victim to slowly isolate themselves from loved ones in fear of them being hurt, eventually this leads to insomnia and in some cases hallucinations and histera. Then Jack disappears for a while making them think they're finally okay and he's gone until he wasn't."

The scoff that left your lips echoed through the quiet room, breathing out the nicotine smoke from your Cancer stick.

So Jack was an antisocial loser and took out his lack of social skills on people who could.

"No one knows of Jack's real identity. Police have reported that the man has lived many lives and has owned many faces for the past 11 years. Reporters have tried their hardest for the past 4 years to get a one on one interview with the man but unfortunately he refuses to talk only resorting to violence."

A reporter says he went for a handshake and left with two missing fingers.

Another says he watched the man bang his head on the wall hard enough to bleed when he asked the murderer's real name.

A broken arm??

“Fuck” you huff flicking the ash at the butt of your cigarette. You stare at the mugshot photos supplied at the end of the article. Dark wide eyes, shaggy black hair falling over his forehead, the piercings sticking from the bridge of his nose eyebrow and top lip.

The look definitely screams psycho but…. he was kinda hot. It took everything in you not to go and click the endless fanfiction that you stumbled upon.

A pair of warm lips press onto your shoulder causing you to jump. Turning to look over your shoulder at the shirtless sight of Kim Namjoon.

“We have to be up in four hours, baby, come back to bed.”

You hum into his embrace with a pout stubbing out the cigarette into the pink ashtray beside your computer. “Did you know Jack went through eight lawyers? Until one day he randomly called Kim Seokjin. That high profile guy from the law firm we're partnered with? they must know each other”

Though Namjoons attention was not on the words that were leaving your mouth. Hands wander all over your body while placing kisses on your neck, and cheeks.

“He literally bit the finger of the last reporter clean off. Like do you know how much force you have to put into that? I think he reads too much gothic liter—”

Cutting you off with a quick grab of your jaw turning your head to connect his plump lips to own. Pulling away with a cheeky dimpled smirk, “I’m not sure how I feel about you talking about another man.”

“Well you shouldn't feel any type of way because you aren't MY man.”

You squeal when you're lifted up from your chair and throw over a broad shoulder. He huffs when he throws you onto the memory foam comforter, your (his) shirt lifting up your thighs exposing your bare cunt. Immediately his big body was hovering over you as he slightly pressed his body weight onto you.

“Get off you dick” pushing and smacking his tan shoulders but that did nothing for you at this moment. “Well I'm trying to put it in you.”

He bullies your legs up over his shoulders as he taps his hard piece against the wetness between your thighs. “If something happens to me during this case I swear” choking on your words as he slowly but surely presses his thick head into your cunt.

“Fuck — may the man himself strike me down.”

Hand reaching to grip your throat smashing your lips together. Luckily your mind left the thoughts of the serial killer , the only thing on your mind right now was Namjoon and his ridiculously large cockm

It wasn't weird for you to obsess over your assignments to the point where it was all you thought about. Everyone does that.

Though this one you couldn't seem to finesse your way out of. Without the help of the late Kim you'd have to pull your own strings to get what you wanted and now that Namjoon was in charge he loved making your life harder.

“Y/n.”

Your head snaps up from your laptop hand stalling from moving on your notepad face to face with gorgeously pale Detective Min Yoongi.

“Yoonie” you smile, motioning for him to sit in front of you. He looked different from when you last saw him all the months ago, more tired and cat- like you guessed it was from the heavy responsibilities that came with the position as Chief of Seouls police department

“Did you just call to look at me?”

“Sorry it's just been . . a while” you push the large Iced Americano towards him as a peace offering. He gladly accepted it with an amused raise of an eyebrow, “You know I just wait for your call.”

“The phone works both ways” you internally wince , you sounded like an estranged father talking to his child.

“What do you want?” A frown spread across your face and lips, shutting your laptop. “I can't call an old friend for a friendly coffee date.”

You waited for his answer as he took his time generously drinking from his plastic cup. With a smack of his lips he sat the cup down leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You only call me ‘Yoonie’ when you want something” eyes scanning over the scatter of papers and notes taking up your side of the table.

“This must be serious”

Hands going to clasp under your chin you sigh, cutting the bullshit. “Three years ago you were the lead investigator on the Jack in the box case which brought you from rookie detective to Chief of police.”

“I was wondering if you could help old friend out tell me what you know about-”

“No.” He cuts you off with little to no thought.

“No? Why not? This isn't our first rodeo Min”

There were plenty of times Yoongi helped you with stories without a second thought. He'd give you case files, witnesses, and anything you needed but why not now?

“Anybody but him”

You scoffed at him, irritation rising in your body. “I need this story not anyone else.”

“Well I can't help you, princess.”

“That's bullshit!” Your voice raises causing a couple people around you to turn their attention towards the two of you. He stood up, chair scraping the floor, slamming a few dollars on the table. “Call me if you need anything else.”

Turning on his heel he leaves you sitting there in your slowly growing rage. You quickly hopped from your seat chasing after him, managing to catch up with his long strides. “Yoongi slow down dammit”

He twirls around grabbing onto you by your arm, “Who gave you this story.

“Namjoon he-” you whine as his grip tightens on your arm as his eyes slit. The angry red scar on his face makes his angry stare look even more intimidating. “You don't understand how dangerous Jack is. Just because he's behind bars doesn't mean he won't have people on the outside that will whack you for being a nosy reporter.”

He softens his hold, lifting his hand to rub your cold cheek. “If something happens to you. . .” He shakes his head letting you go.

“Sit this one out Y/N I don't want to see you in our precinct mortuary.” with that he walks away disappearing into the crowd.

You sniff doing the walk of shame back to the Café sitting back in your seat with your head in your hands

Detective Min Yoongi.

“Excuse me Ma’am” the blonde barista came over holding a box of blueberry doughnuts which happened to be your favorite. “It's on the house.. everyone saw your fight with your boyfriend, manager said this might help cheer you up.”

“Oh! Thank you but he wasn't my boyfriend, just a work colleague.” You tried to defend yourself but the sympathy in his eyes only grew so you accepted the treat with another thank you. “What is your name? I've never seen you here before.”

A soft brightens his pretty face, eyes scrunching slightly adding to the prettiness of his face. “Park Jimin, Ma’am.”

MEANWHILE

The buzz of the electrically wired door opening didn't alert the man that stayed deep in the corner of his cell. “Long time no see.”

“Why now?” the visitor asks, “After all this time you choose now.”

He giggled, the haunting sound bouncing off the walls. “Did you bring what I asked for”

The visitor threw the pictures and the box of cigarettes into the cell. “Answer my question.”

“It's been three longgg years.” He finally answered, moving from his corner to pick up the photos. “Tell me is she this gorgeous in person?”

“Just for her?”

“And I need to stretch my legs” he laughs louder this time the high pitched sound echoed even through the thick steel door that kept him locked in tight.

Jack was ready to play more games

©hobicakesss , please don't repost or steal my work. don't be a loser

[ziminy]

Big bad wolf

Where the reader is red riding Hood and Geto is the bad wolf waiting behind the corner to bite.

Tags: smut, mdni, f!reader, wolf!geto, dark content, killing, manipulation, major character(s) death, stalking, marking, biting, oral (m receiving), chocking, creampie, fingering, mean Geto, deep throating, rough s(e)x, orgasm denial, overestimulation, aphrodisiac,

Author's note: I can't stop laughing at the thought of him in grandma clothes. He would look good in a dress tho.

Not proofread

Masterlist kinktober masterlist

You were sent to your grandma's house to check on how she's doing. Nothing new, you used to do that all the time when you were little. But the thing is that you moved out some time ago, and you haven't visited her in years. It was no wander that you forgot the way to her house.

Someone else was supposed to accompany you. However, you were stood up in the last moment, everybody being busy with something important so you had no other choice but to go there on your own, all alone.

Follow the main path they said, the fact that it splits no one said.

You have to pick which way you're going, left or right. There's no sign that says where the paths takes, so you can only guess.

The right path looks more lively, but the left path might be the actual one. Ugh, this was so hard.

"Never seen you around these parts." a masculine voice could be heard from behind a tree.

"I'm just passing by." you said, not wanting to get in any troubles.

"You look like you need help. Where are you going?" he slowly walked out from where he was hiding, revealing himself. Eye dark just like his hair, fluffy pointy ears on top of his hair and something that seemed like a tail could be seen from behind

"Are you a local?" you asked, somehow skeptical of his motives.

"You can say so."

"Then, do you know the path to this village?" you asked, giving him the name of the place you're going to.

"What are you doing there?" isn't he asking too many questions?

"Visiting my grandma, she's sick." you don't know why you're even telling him.

"Does she lives outside the village?" how did he know? "I know her. It will be faster if you take the right path." oh, you didn't thought he'll be this useful.

"Thank you." you said, happily walking to your destination and admiring the surroundings. Pretty flowers left and right, you couldn't help but stop in place to pick a few, your grandma might like it.

You really weren't thinking nothing of it, being in your own world as you explored this forgotten part of the village, slowly remembering stuff from when you were little.

You remember the lady with the green house, now looking old, her home bearly standing up. Or that one house that was covered in flowers, now looking abandoned.

You couldn't help but sigh, everything changed to the worst. Just like you, the youngsters were leaving this place, trying to look for a better place. But now this place looked abandoned.

You tried to brush it off, it wasn't your problem, you couldn't help these people. Plus, the village your family is in is doing a lot better, so there must have been a reason for this ghosting.

"My my, I haven't seen you before." an old lady said, trying to start a conversation with you. "Are people finally moving back?" she laughed.

"I'm just visiting my grandma." you said, stopping in place to conversate with her.

"It's nice seeing youngsters still caring about the elderly." all you did was to smile and nod your head. "Where does you grandma lives?"

"Right outside the village, that way." you said, pointing at the direction you were going to.

"Be careful, there's a big wolf walking around this area. He been attacking people left and right." you couldn't help but think about the man from earlier. It couldn't be him, wouldn't he attack you if he was?

"I see. I'll be careful." you smiled, now feeling a pair of eyes on you.

"Mm. Be careful." the old lady said before you continued your trip.

You couldn't help but feel paranoid now. Perhaps you were feeling followed from the start, but only now after that lady said it you realized it. It was just your imagination, it had to be. I mean, a wolf, in the middle of the day? Come on.

Was that why everybody was leaving? Was that why your family kept talking about moving your grandma to their village? What if the wolf decides to attack your village too?

Your heart was beating so fast now, it was about to jump out your chest. You kept looking left and right, the familiar things slowly disappearing the more you get to the border of the village. The colorful houses and it's people started to fade away, now looking like a memory you had long time ago. The more you look back, the more they disappeared from your sight.

What if this was a dream? Or was your imagination playing with you? Fuck, please let me get home safely, you prayed in your head.

A few meters away from the village, there was a single lonely house standing proud, looking welcoming, like it was waiting for your arrival.

Your worries slowly evaporated as you quickened your pace towards the house, feeling euphoric and safe after that jump scare from earlier.

You stopped in front of the house, the front gate already being opened, like it was especially left open knowing that you'll be there. You walk towards the small building, knocking on the wooden door, letting the person inside it that you finally you finally got to your destination.

"Grandma, is me, Y/N." you said, a hand on the door handle and softly pushing it open. "Grandma?" you said when you noticed it was way too quiet.

The first thing you saw was how everything looked old and yet it was clean. Very few things here and there, everything looked minimalist.

There was a table right next to the entrance, and then a coat hanger right on the back of the door. A big rug in the middle of the room and then a bed right in the corner. Looks like your grandma is still in bed, that made you sigh reassured.

"How are you feeling?" you said when you walked to the bed, trying to see if the old woman is awake.

Her back looked a lot different than you remember, but that wasn't really important, was it? She slowly sat up, her hair covering her face.

She raised a hand, and you grabbed it, helping her get out of the bed. And damn, grandma was a lot taller than you remember, like, tall. She was a few heads taller than you, she had long black hair and broad shoulders. Was she working out?

"You look a lot bigger than I remember." you said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

"That's because you'll always be my baby." you blinked a few times, trying to process what she just said.

"Your voice sounds different." she sounded like a man.

"I always had this voice."

"Your clothes doesn't fit you." you pointed out.

"I grew."

"Your hair too."

"I like it longer." your eyes went up, to what's on top of her head.

"And your ears.." she looked down at you, finally being able to see her face. Oh god, how could you have been so stupid. It wasn't grandma, it was the guy from earlier.

You let go of his hand, taking a step backwards but he grabbed you, dragging you towards him before you were pinned against the closest wall.

"Why would you- Why are you- What happened-" you couldn't even think of what words to say.

"Come on now, take it easy." he had a smirk on his face, and you couldn't help but look around for any kind of clue on what happened.

"What happened to grandma?" you looked at him, finally thinking of what you wanted to say. All he did was to shrug, a smug expression on his face like he was mocking you. "What do you want from me?" he did nothing but to smile. His face getting closer to you, to your neck, sniffing you for a moment before he looked up at you.

Ah, so you were nothing but food to him. No wander everybody was leaving this place when he can easily pull a stunt like that.

Somehow, you were at peace with yourself, closing your eyes, expecting nothing more than a quick death before he devours you. Instead, you were welcomed with his laugh, amused with the fact that you were so calm.

"What?" you said annoyed.

"I like to play with my food before eating it." huh? You stared at him in disbelief. He got his face to your shoulder, opening his mouth widely before biting you, his fangs sinking into your skin, making your mind go dizzy for a moment. "On your knees." he ordered, his expression changing instantly, now serious.

With big eyes, you looked at him, begging him without words to change his mind. Spare you, give you five seconds to get the fuck out of there and run for your life. But no, he had the same stoic expression on his face, looking at you without a single hint of light in his eyes. He was so crule, how could he do this do you?

"Don't make me repeat it." you gulped, biting your lip in frustration.

"Here?" you said hesitantly, almost eating your own words.

He walked away from you, getting off the nightgown and sitting at the edge of the bed, moving one of his finger back and forth, noticing you to get closer.

He made you sit in front of him, on your knees. "Don't be shy now. Do what you're supposed to." his voice was as cold as his expression.

You had many bad words to say at his address, but at the same time, you can't help but feel something hot forming between your legs.

He kept looking down at you, and it only made you think about what you did wrong. You shouldn't have listened to him, you shouldn't have came here alone, or even better, your shouldn't have come here from the start.

"Hah." he puffed, amused at the fire you had in your eyes, full of hate and determination. Don't you think you have a bit too much courage in this situation? "Get started or I will." he spit out some words, making your eyebrows arch in frustration.

You grabbed his cock, too big for your liking, but you weren't in a position to complain.

You moved your hand up and down, not even sure of what to do. A part of you, telling you to taste him, but the more sane part was yelling at you, telling you how much of an hypocrite you were. Dumb, stupid, idiot, so many words echoed in your head, finding synonyms after synonyms to insult you.

Yes, you were indeed dumb for feeling hot in this situation, your body tensing up when your skins touched. A jolt went down your spine, feeling tingly and wandering what reward will you get from this.

You looked up at him between your eyelashes, opening your mouth and getting your face closer to him. All he did was to laugh, staring at you wrapping your mouth around his cock, moving your head little by little to get him inside.

Up and down, up and down, you keep bopping you head, trying to figure out where was your limit. But he didn't cared about that, he took a fistful of your hair and pushes you down, getting more of his dick inside your mouth and make you gag audibly.

"You can take more of it, but you're not even trying it." fuck him. What does he even know? You glare at him, and in response he laughed. He laughed because of how stupid you look, and it made him want to bully you more. "Touch yourself. Get your pussy ready for me." your expression didn't softened, you had the same ugly look in your eyes as you got a hand between your thighs, in your pants. You were so wet, and you had no idea what made you feel like that, because it was too much. You practically had a pool in your panties, swimming in your own juices since you pussy was drooling over some dick.

This was so unlike you, and you couldn't figure out why. With his dick shoving down your throat and the way your body was heating up, you couldn't think straight.

"Keep going." his words of encouragement didn't helped in any way, it only made you feel desperate for his touch.

With your mouth full of him, you started to think that you really could do more than that. To push him deeper than anything have been before, to take more of his dick and try to reach new limits, because fuck it, why not. A life and a hole you have.

So, being blinded by false hope, and this feeling of determination that appeared out of nowhere, you moved your head, confidence in yourself that you'll be able to do it. You'll be able to suck him off better than anyone ever did.

How idiotic of you, thinking that you would actually be able to pull such a trick by yourself. But he appreciated your effort, now he was helping you get him inside further and further than before, his cock going down your throat, you could feel it so deep that you couldn't help but tense a little, a few tears appearing in your eyes. "Keep touching yourself. You'll regret it later if you don't." he kept reminding you, his voice sounding out of breath and just as cold as ever.

He's so heartless, he's expecting you to do all the work. Suck him dry and touch yourself, to get yourself ready for him when he's not paying you any attention. You need more words of encouragement, touches, kisses even. What a dickhead he was, having such a pretty thing as yourself all to himself and not even trying to do you right.

He was very vocal though, he wasn't hiding his voice even for a moment. He kept moaning and moaning, his hand on your hair, pushing you down. His head fell back, the loudest moan he left out so far erupting from his mouth. He was such a bitch and it was making a mess out of you, something inside of you slowly waking up, wanting to bite him just to see how he'll react.

"Fuck." he was out of breath, grabbing your hair better as he moved his hips forward. His action caught you by surprise, making you grab his thigh to hold yourself in place as he kept fucking himself into you.

The next thing you know, is him getting out your mouth, hands wrapped around your arms to help you get up, and then ripping your clothes off. He pushed you into the bed, face down and ass up before slapping it, leaving a big red mark on you skin.

No warnings were said before he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock right against your warm pussy. Well, this was it. The anticipation was eating you, not knowing what he'll do, or when. Biting your lip, you stayed quiet as you waited for his next move.

He pushed himself in, making you gasp at the way he was stretching you. You were so tight, he couldn't help but grab your ass so he could move better. It hurts, if you're being honest, and you can't help but grip the sheets.

He was mean, bullying himself inside, he kept pushing and pushing until he got all the way in. Taking a moment to himself to take a deep breath before starting moving his hips. Long deep strocks, his dick touching against spots that made you see stars.

He was no saint, fuck it, he wasn't a good man to begin with and the fact that he showed you absolutely no affection was pointing that out. "Told you to touch yourself, now you'll have to deal with it." how mean he was, he showed you no mercy.

His words was making it seems like you were the one wanting this, like you made him follow you all the way here and then begged him to do such despicable acts. But perhaps he just wanted to be delusional, lost in his own world as he kept fucking into you.

You kept your mouth shut, and the fact that you didn't let a single word out made him angry. Biting his lip, frustrated with your actions and looking visible mad. Pride was a sin after all, and he liked to live as a selfish man.

Refusing to back down, he slapped your ass, making you gasp audibly and turn your head to look at him.

He lower himself, getting closer to your body. His arms resting on each side of you, his chest pressed into your back before he bite your shoulder, sinking his teeth into your skin.

That overbearing sensation from earlier came back, it felt like your blood was moving backwards, boiling and moving at a much faster speed making you feel hotter than you already were.

If you weren't wet enough, now your juices were running down your thighs and onto the bed, leaving wet mark on you, him and the sheets. But he enjoyed this, looking at you trembling and making this adorable expression, finally looking desperate for him.

He didn't had enough yet, not when he could get you in a more degradable state. Moving his lips into your neck and sinking his teeth again.

It was like he was injecting something into you. An unknown substance that made you lose your mind, your mouth watering and feeling like you didn't know your own body.

Was this enough for him? Or how much longer was he going to be petty? Because you don't have enough time to play his games, the longer he's inside you without moving the more you want to flip him around and show him that you too can play this game.

He moved on the other side of your neck, biting it and making you feel more desperate with each second pass by. If his aphrodisiac wasn't going to kill you, then he will. He will sink his teeth and mark you as many times as it needed to prove his point, and that was that it was stupid to resist him. If you can't be honest or humor him, then he will.

And he bite you again, leaving his teeth mark on your skin as he suck and licked on it after that, moving on another spot and give you another doze of his toxin, because why not. He wanted to do it so he'll do it.

He realized what he's doing only after he felt your warm walls tightening around him, squeezing him again and again before he realized you just came. That made him stop and look at you.

The way you fell on the bed, you couldn't even hold your own weight up, and how you were breathing heavily. He can't say that he hates the way you looked in that moment, but he doesn't love it either. There was this feeling inside of him that told him it wasn't enough, he didn't do anything at all so how dare you be tired already?

So, he grabbed your hips and dragged your ass in the air, your face against the sheets as he started moving his cock in and out once again.

He showed you no mercy, he kept going at it hard from the start. Now, it wasn't anything too wild, it wasn't that hard but it was enough to make the bed move harshly.

He can show you something that is worth cumming for. A few mere bites wasn't enough to do anything, and yet you really dared to go ahead and forget about his hard dick, forget about him and how he was going to make you cum.

The audacity you had, he still can't believe it. You'll see what he's capable of.

Pushing your head down into the bed, face against the sheets as he kept running his cock in and out, the room filled with wet sounds and he's way too proud of that. He's so happy seeing you drunk on his dick that he can't help but slap your ass, leaving his hand print on it so you would remember.

Your insides were squeezing him again, making him to pull out and flip you around.

This was the second time this happens, what's wrong with him. "You want to cum, huh?" he said in a mocking voice, sitting down on the bed. "Gotta earn it." he really wanted you to ride him. And, well, it didn't took you long to jump in his lap and move yourself like there's no tomorrow.

You easily took him in, moving yourself right away to feel some friction. With a hand between your legs you rubbed your clit, not needing much time to cum when you felt like your whole body was going to melt. That didn't stopped you from moving your hips, too desperate to make this agonizing feeling go away.

He placed his hands on your hips, moving you up and down even better, faster than before. He didn't wanted to admit it but you felt good, so good that he couldn't help himself but cum, pumping his load deep inside you before he came back to his senses and started to move you again.

It was just after you came for a second time when he pulled out, right after he came inside you one more time. He flipped you on your back, getting back between your legs and started moving his dick like he didn't do it before.

He kept moving at a certain angle, trying a new way every now and then to see which one made you feel better, because this wasn't just about him, it was also about his pride, you looked just so delicious being fucked up and desperate to feel him.

Your sounds weren't loud enough, your touch was almost non-existent and it made him look visibly mad. Was there a moment that he looked happy ever since he appeared before you?

He wrapped his hands around your neck, squeezing it slightly to hold you in place as he kept ravaging your insides. He kept moving and moving, going harder and harder just to see you squirming. You were reacting so much better now, he couldn't help but have this strange grin on his face, looking at the way you were struggling to take him.

You can come with him, can't you? You can come at the same time, he knows you can. He just haves to give you a little push. So, he chocke you even harder, making your head spin as he looked satisfied with where this was going. You grabbed onto him, feeling dizzy. Your orgasm felt so much violent this time, and the fact that he had no mercy on you didn't make you feel any better.

With a few more thrusts, he came, filling you up even more, and somehow, telepathically, you came at the same time as him.

He got out of you, his cock resting right on top of you as he kept his hands wrapped around your neck, still chocking you, harder and harder, making the air from your lungs stop flowing.

He looked down at you, with the same old psychotic smile as your mind slowly becomes blank, your vision blurry as he disappears from your view.

"Ah, shit." he cursed, realizing too late what he had done. "I did it again, didn't I." he sighed, getting up the bed and looking at you one more time before he put his clothes on, leaving your lifeless body right there where he left you. It wasn't his problem anymore.

Author's note: Tumblr decided to die on me halfway through writing this and I had to re write a little (more). Glad I finished it.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Drawn to you | Pt. 8

(A/N) Writing this was fun, but I've never cried so much while writing fanfiction.

Pairing: Alastor x bunny demon!Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: sick!Reader, cancer, major character death, Reader finds out the truth

Synopsis: He remembers you. Finally.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

“I am sorry…you have cancer.”

You didn’t react. After all, you had already suspected it for quite some time. This was just the confirmation. But Alastor…oh your sweet Alastor. You glanced at him and watched all color drain from his face.

You squeezed his hand and tried to smile at him reassuringly.

“Is…how bad is it?”

The doctor glanced at the man by your side before he looked at you again, and you immediately knew the answer.

“It’s stage four. I’m honestly surprised you are still as lively as you are.”

Alastor looked up, panic clear on his face. He couldn’t lose you. Not you.

“What about treatments? There has to be something we can do, there-.”

You gently pulled at his hand, grabbing his attention. With a soft smile, you turned back to the doctor and asked for a moment alone with Al. The doctor of course agreed and left the room, giving you two some space.

“Al…”

As he looked at you, you watched tears gather in his eyes. Not you. Anything but not you. He fell to his knees in front of your chair as you pulled him into a tight embrace, resting his head against your chest. You tried your best to soothe him as the tears spilled from his eyes. It took a few minutes for him to calm down enough to talk.

“I can’t lose you.”

You smiled at him, swiping some of his hair out of his face.

“No matter what happens Al, I’ll always be with you. Watching over you. You’ll never truly lose me, okay? Let’s just make the best of what time is left.”

After a moment, he nodded but still stayed on his knees in front of you until the doctor knocked on the door. You spent the rest of the day at the clinic, Alastor calling in sick, as the doctor explained what would be done. He offered treatment, but you knew that you were too far gone and declined. But you accepted some medicine that would help on bad days. At the end of the day, you left hand in hand with Alastor, who insisted on taking you back to his apartment for the night.

You soon had to quit your job and stay home most of the day. But Alastor fulfilled every promise he had ever made to you. He bought a big house with a pretty backyard and he took the time to plant your favorite flowers. He built the swing where you’d spend most of your time, wrapped up in blankets, no matter how warm it was. And after a few weeks, he got down on one knee and asked you to marry him. Of course, you said yes, not having the heart to tell Alastor that you’d never make it to your wedding day. You knew that your days were almost up, so you asked Alastor to take a week off, saying that you wanted to do some wedding planning.

But on the last day of his week off, the two of you were sitting on your swing, you in his arms. And you knew it was time. You glanced up at your lover and could see in his eyes that he knew as well.

“I love you Al. Always will. Don’t…don’t forget me, okay?”

He smiled, tears in his eyes.

“How could I ever forget you? I love you so much my darling. Go rest, you deserved it.”

You passed away in his arms that night. It was peaceful and quiet and even after you had died, Alastor continued to hold your body while crying, swearing that he’d never forget you.

Heaven - right after

The next thing you remembered was feeling like you did before you had gotten sick. You felt healthy, cheerful, and energetic. You turned to look around and found a person standing, waiting for you.

“Welcome to heaven, dear.”

Heaven? You never thought that it was real, but now that you had actually died, you felt a sort of relief wash over you. With steady feet, you walked up to the person, a blonde, young man with wings.

“I’m Saint Peter, and I can see that you’re on my list, so walk right in.”

He smiled and gestured towards the large gate that slowly swung open. You were about to step towards it, but you had something you wanted to ask him.

“Do…do you know when everyone dies?”

Saint Peter nodded.

“My…my fiance…when will he…will he live a long life?”

The man quickly checked his list but came up empty. Instead, he grabbed the file that was lying on his desk and flipped through it.

“Oh, you mean Alastor?”

You nodded, relief washing through you that he had found him. That must mean that he’d go to heaven as well.

“I’m sorry dear, but he won’t live much longer. And when he does die, he will go to hell.”

Hell? That can’t be right. The sweet man who had changed his entire life to take care of you. The man you had loved since the moment you met him.

“You-You must be mistaken.”

“I’m not I’m afraid. Serial killers don’t usually get into heaven, you know? Not that you knew about any of that, if you had you wouldn’t have ended up here.”

He smiled as if he had just told you that the next few days would be sunny, while you couldn’t believe your ears. Alastor couldn’t have-, he wouldn’t-, he…and suddenly everything you had ever wondered about made sense. The fact that he always seemed annoyed when he had to warn the public about the serial killer. The stains on his clothes. His weird behavior the mornings after a new victim was found and how the attacks practically stopped after your diagnosis.

You took a few steps back, still trying to work through everything. Your love, a serial killer. But where you expected your heart to break and disgust to fill your veins you only seemed to love him more. The first two killings were of men who had only ever mistreated you. He had killed for you, to protect you and make your life easier.

“I want to go to hell.”

Saint Peter looked up, clearly confused.

“If he goes to hell, then so do I.”

The angel in front of you truly tried to talk you out of it, he did. But your mind was made up. And so, he sent you to hell.

@impulsivethoughtsat2am @fanficwriter5 @wonderlandangelsposts @mo-0-o @xalygatorx @fairyv-ice @nixie189 @cutiebimbo

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Hazbin Hotel - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

[wildernessuntothemselves]

You Are My Queen Now | Final Part

Word Count: 15.4k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Growing up as a child of a minor lord, you had it instilled in you since a young age that you needed to find yourself a rich and affluent husband that would not only provide a comfortable life for you, but would also help further your family’s position in the court. So it was of the utmost importance that you remain a virgin in order to land such a coveted husband.

The problem lies when the man you secretly love, Prince Beomgyu, suddenly and unabashedly propositions you.

Warnings: somnophilia, dry humping, thigh riding, cunnilingus, mentions of domestic abuse, physical fight, handjob, boobjob, gyu being pussy whipped, slutshaming, gore, major character death, and some other warnings i can't give without spoiling the ending but just know it's a very dark fic

“Beomgyu, what are you doing? Get down from there!” You shout, noticing Beomgyu scaling one of the nearby walls of the garden. 

“I’ll be right down” He yells back to you over his shoulder. 

“You’re not a boy anymore. You could fall down and hurt yourself.”

“I won’t.” He protests stubbornly, his words faltering as he almost loses his footing on the wall, making you gasp, your heart plummeting down the same way you imagined he would have. 

“Beomgyu, don’t stress me out like this. It’s bad for the baby.” You wail, your pregnant state lending a nice vulnerable effect to your pleading words. It works very well because in the next moment Beomgyu gives in and starts climbing back down the wall. He walks towards you with shoulders slumped and a dejected frown on his face 

“What has gotten into you?” You ask him and he shrugs. “I wanted to get you a sunflower.” 

You furrow your eyebrows at the silly reason behind his dangerous action, an unwanted memory of pearl necklaces and bloody bandages springing forth into your mind. You shake your head to dispel the intrusive thoughts. “You could’ve had one of the gardeners get one.” 

“But that’s not the same.” He whines, plopping down to the floor next to you. “I wanted to get you one, you know, like old times. But all I got are these stupid flowers.” He throws said flowers at your feet, sulking. 

You roll your eyes at his little tantrum. “Beomgyu, you shower me in gifts every day.” 

“I know but it doesn’t mean much anymore. I want to give you something meaningful to cheer you up.” He sighs, getting closer to you and cupping your face between his hands. You refrain from pulling back at his words that remind you why you’re in such a sour mood. “I hate seeing you so sad.” 

Lately, there have been a lot of unflattering rumors swirling around about you following your wedding and especially after your pregnancy has been announced. People have been calling you all kinds of nasty things–a homewrecker, a cheater, disloyal, unworthy… and of course, a whore. 

Among Taehyun’s supporters, you’re seen as an adulterer who betrayed her husband and spread her legs for the king in order to win the crown. They theorize that you’ve been prostituted since a young age by your own father (a claim you have no doubt has been pushed primarily by Heejin’s family) and planted at the palace to seduce to the younger prince before jumping to Taehyun when the king refused to let Beomgyu marry you, then jumping back to Beomgyu when his father was out of the picture. 

Even among those who support Beomgyu, you’re seen as a low-born noble who clawed her way up the ranks by seducing the king and having him get rid of his rightful wife. They believe you not fit to be his queen, that you’re below him because you’re not only not royal but that you don’t even bring him or the kingdom any political or monetary advantages. On the contrary, you only bring them war and death. 

Neither side is kind to you. They both see you as the whore who bewitched the two men. How else could a woman of your standing get these two powerful men to fight over you to the death like this? 

“I only wanted to do good.” You look down in pain. You didn’t expect Taehyun’s men and his people to hold any fondness for you but for even Beomgyu’s vassals and the common people to view you so disfavorably? It crushed you. "I tried to help them. Why are they doing this?"

“Do you want me to stop the project? Round up those who talk ill of you and punish them?” Beomgyu asks firmly, that fiery anger he gets when someone hurts you blazing in his eyes.

You shake your head. "No. Let them. They're not worth my time." It’s no use, punishing them won’t make it any better. They’ll just hate you more. Only Beomgyu loves you. You will be safe as long as you stay by his side. Only he can ever love you. 

He sighs defeatedly. “I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.” 

“Come, lie down on my lap.” You gesture to him and he obeys, laying his head on your thighs and facing your growing belly. He kisses it, grinning in that endearing way that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart leap in your chest. “I can’t wait to meet you, baby.” 

You smile at his airy giggles and pick up one of the flowers he collected, snapping off most of the stem so you can nestle the rest between the strands of his hair. You then grab another flower and do the same until his hair is filled up with the colorful petals in a delicate crown upon his head. 

“Stunning.” You awe, prodding his head up just a little bit to see your handiwork. 

“Am I?” He arches one eyebrow, teasing. 

“Very. But you could look even more stunning.” You ponder, taking off your necklaces and wrapping them around his neck one by one. “Now I know why you love dressing me up so much.” You half-tease, half-swoon at how breathtaking he looks with the mess of different flowers in his hair and your necklaces draped around his neck. He looks just like what you imagined those woodland nymphs you read about in your books would look like. “Remember when I used to put makeup on you when we were kids?” 

He laughs heartily at the memory. “Of course, you always had fun at the beginning but then you’d get all pouty and annoyed and huff about me looking prettier than you.” 

“Well, you were.” You cross your arms over your chest, huffing. 

Beomgyu suddenly sits up and pulls you onto his lap, burying a hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and pressing your face inches from his. “And now? Still think I’m pretty?” 

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling hot. “Well, yeah… But also sexy.”

He smiles, pleased, and pulls you into a sweet kiss. 

But when he pulls back, face still so close to yours, you can easily see the bags under his eyes that droop heavily from fatigue. As far as you know, he’s winning the war, but that triumph necessitated an insurmountable amount of work and time spent in meetings and war councils that went on from the brink of dawn till late at night. He still made sure to put aside time to spend with you and the baby growing in your belly, but even that must be taxing on his already depleted energy. 

You know you shouldn’t feel bad for him–he’s doing this to get rid of his one and only competition–but your heart can’t see your Beomgyu suffer and not ache along with him. You know if you tell him to go take a nap, he would refuse, insisting that spending time with you was more important than even his own health, so you go with the next best thing. 

You lay him back on your lap, running your fingers through his silky hair while you murmur a slow love song to him, trying to lull him into a peaceful sleep right there in your arms. 

“No, I don’t want to sleep.” He whines, catching onto what you’re doing. After all, you’ve been doing it for a few days now. 

“Please, baby, for me?” You whisper softly, trying not to scare away the sleep from his pretty eyes. “I need a little nap.”

“Oh, well if you need it.” He yawns, giving in. wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into your belly. 

You smile at your tired lover fondly, leaning back against the tree behind you and closing your eyes before beginning to sing again, the both of you drifting into a peaceful, warm slumber under the soothing rays of the dazzling sun. 

______________________________

You wake up with a liquid heat gathered in the pit of your stomach. Anyone else experiencing this strange sensation might've thought it unusual, but not you. You’re quite used to it by now. 

You register Beomgyu’s wet tongue lapping at your pussy before you even open your eyes to confirm it. Beomgyu has been at this for weeks, starting the day with his face buried between your legs. He has been even more insatiable ever since he got you pregnant. He can’t even look at the little bump of your belly without getting heated up. 

As for you, you've heard that pregnancy can decrease your libido and make you withdraw from sex but in your experience, it's been quite the opposite and Beomgyu was more than happy to satisfy your heightening needs. Even when you aren’t in the mood to have actual sex, Beomgyu would content himself with eating you out and jerking himself off like he's doing right now.

Basically he would wake you up with his face buried in your pussy and if you were in the mood, you would grab his hair and pull him up to get fucked and if you weren’t in the mood you'd just let him give you a nice little orgasm while he got himself off too–a little something to get the both of you through the day. 

You feel Beomgyu’s hands leave your thighs and move up your body to push your delicate nightdress down to expose your breasts, moaning out as they come into his view. "They're getting bigger, huh?"

You blush under his lewd gaze. "Yeah."

"Push them together." He groans, jerking urgently at his cock. 

Beomgyu has always liked your breasts, and now that they’ve been getting bigger, he’s become positively obsessed with them. Whenever you two are alone, things would always devolve into him latching onto them, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh until it’s all red and glistening with his saliva. Even when he is too busy to properly pay them attention to them because he has to do paperwork or the like, he would sit you on his lap and write with one hand while holding one of your breasts with the other, intermittently squeezing it like his own personal stress reliever as he reads over and signs the documents. 

You obey his request, pushing your breasts together and flicking your fingers over your nipples, whining at him for neglecting your pussy for those few seconds. "Puppy." 

Maybe you're more horny than you thought. 

"Want me to take you, baby?" He bites his lip, noting the way your pussy gushes between your splayed legs.

You do, but you want to mess with him even more so you shake your head. "No. Want my king to hump the bed like the horny dog he is." 

Beomgyu doesn’t shy away for a second, biting his lip at your filthy request. "I got you, my queen."

He leans down to catch your pussy with his mouth once again while simultaneously pushing a couple of fingers inside you. But it wasn’t his mouth or his fingers that truly drove you insane, it was the way he ground his hips against the mattress in pace with his pumps as if he was imagining it was his dick fucking you instead. 

You love seeing him so needy for you, yet so obedient. He’ll take anything you give him even if that was just your attention as he got the both of you off. 

And it doesn’t take him long to do that. He cums first, his moans half-muffled by your pussy before he pulls his head up to let you look at his face that is twisted in pleasure, just like he knows you like. His fingers keep pumping rapidly into you as his own hips stutter and he stares at you, slack-jawed and pleading. 

“Cum for me, my queen.” 

“Beomgyu, fuck!” You scream, grabbing him by the hair and pushing his head back down, grinding yourself against his pretty face as you orgasm. 

Fuck, how have neither of you had your fill of each other yet? How are you just as needy now as the first night even as you lay boneless in your post-orgasmic bliss?  

Beomgyu climbs up your body to press a soft kiss against your lips, giggling when you kiss him back dazedly. “I really tired you out, huh?” 

“Just a little bit.” You answer lazily, leaning into his touch as he carasses your body. "You don’t have to leave the bed, you know? I can have the maids come and take care of everything, get you your food, your painting supplies… my mother says pregnant women need plenty of rest." 

You roll your eyes. He’s been trying to stop you from making even the slightest bit of effort ever since the pregnancy was discovered. "I'm not that heavily pregnant yet. I can still move." 

"I know. I just want you to be safe and comfortable. Both of you." He rubs your belly lovingly. 

"We are, puppy." You really are. Beomgyu is going above and beyond to make you happy. He has put himself completely at your beck and call–along with everyone he rules and everything he owns. You want for nothing in your blissful little bubble that he has made for you. 

Only, you wish that bubbles weren’t so fragile. No matter how much he and you try, you can never completely keep the bad thoughts and horrible dread at bay. He doesn’t tell you but you know he is closing in on Taehyun now. You hear it all around the palace, and you worry that you will receive news of his demise any day now. 

That is why you sorely need any distraction you can get. You can’t stay in bed with your calamitous thoughts all day. 

You shake your head at Beomgyu and smile. “Don’t worry about me. I just want to spend some time with my friends.”

____________________________

Friends–a word that has been foreign to you all your life, but somehow you’ve managed to gain a few friends this time around–made yourself a little group from among the ladies in waiting and others who frequented Beomgyu’s court. 

You can’t say that you’re close to most of them, nor do you really talk about your private affairs but it's still nice to be around people who are there by their own volition rather than having been forced to accommodate you because the royals ordered them to.

Yes, you’re not close to them but that doesn’t mean you know nothing of their situations. Secrets aren’t a thing in the socially intricate and gossipy landscape of a royal palace, and everyone’s business gets passed around like a particularly sublime wine for all to enjoy. And now that you have your own circle of friends, you too get to be privy to those poorly-kept secrets. You learn that you weren’t misery’s sole companion, that everyone else is touched by it too. 

Even the high-bred ladies suffer from their own misfortunes; Lady Minjun can't give her husband a child and he resents her for it, making his distaste clear by sleeping around and fathering numerous bastards from other women. Lady Namjoo’s husband prefers the company of men. Lady Hayoon’s in-laws aren’t fond of her and they make it their personal mission to sabotage her marriage to her husband who won’t even stand up for her in front of his family. And Lady Chaeyoung's husband hurts her behind closed doors. 

Chaeyoung was the first of your so-called friends. After she had cheekily congratulated you for putting Heejin in her place, you two started speaking more and more and eventually became close–well, as close as the situation permits. She had a quiet demeanor which made her blend into the background when she was around other ladies, which is why you didn’t take much note of her before, but when you were alone, she demonstrated an impressive sharpness of wit and a penchant for bluntness that you’ve quickly grown to appreciate. 

Out of all the ladies you’ve befriended, she was the one you’re most likely to actually consider a friend. Which is why you were all the more heartbroken when you noticed the suspicious marks on her skin.

She had at first dismissed your concerns, chalking the bruises up to her being clumsy and unintentionally hurting herself. But you’ve never known her to be particularly graceless and the shape of fingerprints on her skin was unmistakable. Eventually, after much insistence and prodding on your part, she told you the truth, confiding in you that when her husband loses his temper, he often times takes it out on her. 

You were horrified to hear that. Her husband is a big brute and she’s such a frail little thing–how can he hurt her like this? You wanted to get Beomgyu involved immediately, knowing he’s the only person powerful enough to put a stop to this, but she adamantly refused, insisting that her husband didn’t mean it and that he promised her that he would stop. You didn’t believe him. That’s what they all say, only to turn around and hurt you again and again. Still she had begged you not to tell Beomgyu and you didn’t on the condition that if he does it one more time, you’d have no choice but to tell. 

And here she is again, with the marks of his anger on her body. 

“What is this?” You ask Chaeyoung, grabbing onto her arm where you can see a bluish bruise peeking out of her sleeve. 

She yanks her arm back and tries to cover it. "It's nothing, my queen."

“It’s not nothing.” You scoff, keeping your voice low so that the other ladies won’t hear. "Is your husband hurting you again?" 

"It’s my fault. I drove him to it. If I had just listened, he wouldn’t have needed to act that way." She hurries to defend him, and something about her response makes you both livid and profoundly sad. 

“No! It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare say that again.” You hiss lowly, set off by her words. “He is the one to blame. He is the one who hurt you, and he has to answer for what he did.”

“No!” She panics, shaking her head vehemently. “Please, don’t! Just let it go, my queen. I’m fine.”

“He can’t keep getting away with this. I won’t let him. If you don’t want Beomgyu to know then I’ll confront him myself.” You get to your feet, your mind made up. You don’t listen to her cries and pleads. You can’t really hear them, too focused on the ringing between your ears and the unbidden tears springing to your eyes. 

You march towards where you know he would be and demand to talk to him alone, all the while Chaeyoung keeps trying to get you to back down. You pull him out of whatever meeting he’s in, demanding to speak to him alone. He has to oblige you. You’re his queen after all, and so he follows you to an empty room where the three of you can be alone–well you three and the guards who stick to you closer than your own shadow. 

“What is the matter, my queen?” Lord Myeong, her husband, asks with faux-politeness, looking between the two of you. He never was quite able to sell the fake respect the other lords and ladies have had to treat you with ever since you got married to Beomgyu, his disdain of you managing to shine through every time. 

“The matter is that you dare to lay your savage hands on her. What kind of man lays a hand on his own wife?” You shout at him, your voice shrill with disgust.

Realization dawns on his face and he glares at Chaeyoung. “What happens between a man and his wife is only for them to know.” He tells you, a sharp edge to his voice, but he still tries to maintain his affected cordiality. 

You, on the other hand, don’t bother with those stupid pretenses. “Not when your ugly handprints are all over her skin for everyone to see. What is the matter with you?” 

“I was merely punishing her for acting out. I have the right to discipline my wife.” 

“She is not a child or a misbehaving dog. She is your wife. How could you do this to the woman you vowed in front of the gods to love and protect?” 

The man rolls his eyes and looks at you like you’re wasting his time with your silly womanly wiles, and it makes you almost burst from the anger building up inside you. “I am your queen and I demand that you never lay a single finger on her again.” You command forcefully but the man dismisses you as if you were nothing, always nothing. 

“Should I now?” He asks cockily, eyeing you up and down. “Maybe if the king disciplined you once in a while, you’d learn your place.”

His words make you see red, and before you can control yourself you launch yourself at him, punching him right across his unpleasant face, hearing a crack as your fist connects with his nose. 

"You fucking bitch!" He howls, touching his nose in shock, his teeth grinding together when his fingers come away bloody. “I’ll fucking get you for that–”

You tense up, preparing to fight as the huge man advances on you. What did you do? You can’t take him. He is too big and strong to fight off. Unless…

Your hand reaches for the dagger tucked away inside the skirt of your dress, prepared to do anything to protect yourself in your moment of madness. Thankfully, before he can reach you, the guards step in to shield you. 

“Back away.” The head knight barks at lord Myeong, his deep voice booming around the room.

Lord Myeong stops in his tracks, vexed but not about to lose his life over this. “Of course, the whore hides behind the king’s men.” He spits out before turning his furious gaze towards Chaeyoung who was shaking in the corner. “Wait till we get home.” 

He tries to grab her but you quickly order the guards to stop him. They do, shoving him away from the small woman. But when you order them to throw him out of the room, they refuse. 

“I’m your queen. You obey when I order you to do something.” You hiss at them but they don’t budge. 

“Fine. We’ll see what the king has to say about your disobedience.” You scoff and attempt to exit the room yourself but they stand in front of the door, blocking your way out. “We’ve already sent word out for the king. No one is going to leave this room before he gets here.” 

“Some queen you are.” Myeong snorts and you go to attack him again in reflex, burning in humiliation, but the guards step in and hold you back this time. 

“Let go of me.” You scream, fear and panic spiking inside you at the traumatic memories that being restrained brings back. You kick one of them in the shin, getting him to let you go before you punch the other one in the stomach, freeing yourself and moving away from them. 

“Don’t you dare touch me again.” You heave out frantically. 

“Crazy bitch.” You hear lord Myeong mutter under his breath, further igniting your rage but you don’t try to attack him again, focusing your energy on trying to get out of the room that suddenly feels all too suffocating.  

“Let me out.” You try again but they refuse, on their guard for any further attacks from you. 

“Let me fucking out!” You scream, growing more and more agitated with every passing second. 

Thankfully, Beomgyu arrives at this moment, bursting through the doors and rushing towards you at the first glimpse of your panicked state. “What is going on? Why are you screaming? Are you okay?” 

“These imbeciles don’t know how to carry orders from their queen.” You hiss in the direction of the guards, still disquieted but feeling better now that Beomgyu is right next to you. “They refused to let me leave. They even fucking restrained me.” 

“Is that true?” Beomgyu turns on the guards and the head knight stutters out, no longer sounding so frightening when faced with the king’s wrath. “S-she was attacking lord Myeong, my king. We j-just thought you’d prefer to sort things out before we let her go.” 

“Well, next time don’t think.” Beomgyu barks at them, “She’s your queen and you will obey her orders unless you want to be thrown in the cells.” 

“Y-yes, my king.” He backs off, and bows to you. “I’m sorry, my queen.” 

The rest of the guards echo his words, their apologies soothing your fire a little bit. But then Beomgyu turns to you and snuffs it out all together. “Now, what happened here?” 

"Nothing, my king." Lord Myeong straightens out as he talks to his king–so different from how he addressed you. 

Your scoff at his changing attitude catches Beomgyu’s attention and he turns back to you, seeking an answer, but you don’t say anything, too embarrassed by everything that happened to speak right now. Beomgyu gets the message, reading you easily just like he always does, and escorts you to a separate room so you can explain yourself freely, away from the others. 

“Beomgyu—” You tear up, throwing your arms around his neck, needing him to comfort you after your fuck up. He wraps one arm around your waist while the other goes to brush away the stray tears that leave your eyes. “It’s okay, my love. Tell me what happened and I’ll fix it.” 

He will. He always does. Every time you lash out at someone or do something stupid, he always has your back. 

“He hurts her, Beomgyu. He beats her up. We can all see the ugly blue and green bruises on her skin.” Your lips quiver as you recount to him what happened, telling him how she asked you not to go to him and promised you that the beatings will stop, and how you flew into a rage when they didn’t. 

“Oh, baby, my kind-hearted queen. You just wanted to help your friend, didn’t you?” He coos softly and you nod. “But you should’ve come to me, still. I would’ve helped her. Don’t I always help?” 

“You do.” You admit quietly. 

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” He asks and you feel an uncomfortable, queasy feeling budding at the pit of your stomach at that question. You don’t want to answer that. You don’t want to unfurl the seed and let it grow into the hideous monster it can be. 

So you go with half of the truth. “I wanted to fix it on my own. No one takes me seriously, Beomgyu.” 

He sighs. “And you think threatening to punch people–or in this case actually breaking their nose–is the way to get them to take you seriously?” He reprimands you and you try to draw back, feeling embarrassed, but he doesn’t let you go, using the arm he has around your wasit to hold onto you and pull you tighter against him. “My love, you need to let go of the savage ways he’s taught you.”

You press your lips into a thin line at that, your hackles raised. Taehyun isn’t savage. He taught you to defend yourself for the first time in your life, something that Beomgyu never did. He only shielded you from the abuse when he noticed it or when you told him. He never taught you how to protect yourself.  

Beomgyu doesn’t like your silence. He never does. But thankfully, for now, he lets it go, sighing. "Stay here." 

But you grab onto his arm before he can go, fretting. "Is Chaeyoung going to be okay?"

"I'll take care of it." He promises you, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss against your forehead before he leaves you to deal with the mess you created. 

As you’re left alone to simmer in the aftermath of your most recent fuck up, you realize just how much you’ve strayed from Taehyun’s teachings. You almost were something, almost were your own person, but now you’re even worse than before. Weren’t you the woman who once stood up to the fearsome lord Taehyun and got him to listen to you? Now you’re hiding away as you let Beomgyu take care of problems you created while trying to reclaim that phantom power. You're back to being the stupid helpless little girl who needs Beomgyu to do everything for her. This is just what he wanted, isn’t it? Well, he succeeded. 

You’re yanked out of your ruminations when you hear the door open. You look up to ask Beomgyu how it went, only to find Chaeyoung standing there. 

“Oh, Chae–” You rush towards her but she puts her hand up to stop you and you halt. “What–”

“Why did you do that? I told you to let it go!” She fumes and you draw back in shock. “I was just trying to help–”

“No, you were trying to make yourself feel better about your own issues with the king.” 

You freeze at her words. “What are you talking about?” 

She scoffs. “It’s obvious. I don’t know what exactly is going on with you and the king, but god knows everyone has heard the rumors, and whatever unresolved shit you have going on is making you feel helpless and angry and instead of confronting him about it, you lashed out at my own husband to make yourself feel better about your own complacency.”

You shake your head forcefully. “That’s not true. It’s not.” The hot tears sting at your eyes once again, but Chaeyoung doesn’t care for it. No one does except Beomgyu. 

“Yes, it is and don’t you deny it. Because if you actually cared about what’s good for me you wouldn’t have put me in danger by confronting Myeong.”

“P-put you in danger?” What is she talking about?

“Yes. Do you think what you did will make him hurt me any less? It will only make him more angry!” 

“You’re staying with him?” You ask incredulously and her answering laugh is haughty and bitter. "You're staying with Beomgyu?" 

You clamp up.  "What other option do I have? You think I can just separate from my husband and not be completely ostracized from all my friends and family? I don’t have a king who would kill his own wife and buy my annulment so he can marry me."

"That is cruel, Chae." You croak. How could she say this to you? She might not know the full story of what happened between you and Beomgyu, but just like she said, everyone has heard the rumors, and her being one of the ladies in waiting, she is sure to know more than anyone else about what you’ve been through at his hands. 

She takes in a deep breath to try to calm herself down, and you can see how underneath her anger, there is tremendous fear. “I’m sorry but you need to hear it. I didn't ask you to intervene. Worry about your own problems from now on."

She’s right–the seed unfurls, the monster grows. The only reason you got so enraged and out of control is because what she said reminded you of what Beomgyu has always told you–that you’re the reason for your own suffering, that if you had just been good, that if you didn’t try to escape, that if you let him do what he wants to you, he wouldn’t have hurt you like he did.   When she blamed herself for what happened, it felt like she was blaming you too. 

"I'm sorry. You're right. It was about me. I guess I just saw my situation in yours and couldn't control myself. It was selfish of me. I just feel so helpless and I wanted to do something for once." 

"You are doing something.” She insists, stepping closer to you for the first time since she came into the room. “You’re using him to make things better. It's the best anyone can do in your position. You know the peasants are talking shit about you and yet you’re still helping them and he's letting you. You may not be carrying out those good deeds directly but you're accomplishing more than you ever could have with Lord Taehyun. The king will do anything to please you. You just have to ask." 

You contemplate her words in silence. You suppose she’s right about that too. You may not be doing anything directly. People may look down on you and belittle you. But through Beomgyu, you can accomplish so much and he would be more than happy to let you. Maybe you should just get out of your state of self-pity and acknowledge that you’re more lucky–despite it all–than most of the other ladies here. 

"But you need to be careful because you’re costing him too many allies by your reckless actions. If you keep this up, you'll be damning him." She continues, and that more than anything, gets your attention.

You hadn’t thought about it that way before, too caught up in your own feelings to know any better. Beomgyu never said a word about it to you either. You suppose he’s just so intent on proving to you that he has your back and will not let the others treat you in a way you don’t like anymore, that he’s letting you ruin his court relations. 

"I don't want you to remove my husband from the palace. That would just make things worse for me. So could you please smooth things over with the king?" She asks you, and you give her a small nod. “Thank you.”

You still feel a hint of satisfaction when Beomgyu drags Lord Myeong into the room, the bigger man looking denigrated and subjugated as he apologizes to you and his wife. You merely give him a nod while Chaeyoung graciously announces that she forgives him.

"Get your things ready. You leave at first light." Beomgyu announces when he’s done, and Chaeyouung shoots you a panicked look. 

“Actually, I would like him to stay” You interrupt, shocking both men. You bow your head and continue, "If my king will permit, of course."

“But the way he treated you–” Beomgyu balks, unable to stomach the offense to his wife.

“I provoked him.” You bite down on your tongue as you parrot the incriminatory words. “Neither of us behaved particularly civilly.” 

“But, baby–” Beomgyu moves close to you, whispering quietly. You hold his right hand between your two smaller ones, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, my love. Give him one more chance. For me.” 

He still looks uncomfortable with letting it pass, but you turn to face Lord Myeong, scowling at him in warning. "If he will give you his word not to hurt Chae again." 

Beomgyu turns to him and the man nods tightly. "I give you my word, my king." He proclaims, then bows to you. “My queen.”

It’s hard to keep in your scoff, and you can’t look at the coward much longer. Luckily, you don’t have to as Beomgyu waves his hand, dismissing them both, along with the guards, leaving only you and him in the room.  

“I don’t like this, darling. He almost laid his hands on you.” Beomgyu recounts angrily, taking you in his arms. “He almost hurt you.” 

“I hurt him first. I started it.” You repeat uneasily, and it’s almost funny how Beomgyu finds issue with the sentiment when it doesn’t relate to him. 

“You can do whatever you want. You’re his queen.” Beomgyu argues, “If you want to, I can bring him back here and you can use that dagger of yours to brighten up his face a little bit.” 

His suggestion, entirely too serious, sends a shiver down your spine. 

The king will do anything to please you. But you need to be careful because you’re costing him too many allies.

You shake your head. “No. I need to start acting like a lady again.” You look away, your lower lip wobbling and cheeks flaming, but Beomgyu turns your head to face him once again. “You’ll always be a lady. No one can ever change that.” He presses a kiss against each of your tear-stained cheeks, before continuing, "But I must admit that there are better ways to get people to listen to you than punching them in the face. No matter how endlessly funny I find it when you do that."

You can’t help but smile a little at his joke, allowing yourself to really look at him, and you see nothing but adoration shining back at you. Beomgyu is in love with you. He'd do anything for you. So why are you standing here worrying about anyone else? 

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers, kissing you slowly, his soft lips molding against your own as your breaths mingle and your tongues meet. You can never get tired of kissing Beomgyu, each kiss containing a multitude of emotions that never wane–love, lust, need, ecstasy, relief… He kisses you like it’s the first and last time he ever will. Even this slow kiss is so heavy with feeling, it takes your breath away. 

“Am I?” You ask once you break the kiss, mouthing along his jawline. 

“Yeah. So perfect.” His breath hitches as you move down his neck. “Oh, love, if you keep going like that I’m going to–Oh…” 

You slip your hand under his pants, palming him as you suck on his sensitive neck. “Going to what, puppy?”

“Going to lose control.” He finishes, and you chuckle cockily. “As if you ever had any control when it came to me.” 

You take your hand out of his pants, hushing his protesting whine, and walk him backwards until you reach a chair and push him on it, getting down on your knees between his legs. 

“Darling, no, don’t sit on the floor. Want you comfortable–” 

“Hush, Beomgyu. Be a good pup and let me play with you however I want.” You chastise, shooting down his overly-protective tendencies as you take him out of his pants and jerk him into hardness. 

“Yes, baby.” He groans, throwing his head back against the chair as he hungrily watches you pumping his cock from under his heavy lashes. He’s too damn easy. So what if everyone thinks you’re his whore? You have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything you tell him to. He adores you. He’d spend his days and nights worshiping at your feet if you let him. "Love it when you use me." 

"Yeah?" You shiver, soaking up his need and adulation that hit you like the buzz of a strong liquor. You really can’t live without him. You live off his love. He wants to give you everything–himself, a family, even the whole kingdom. No one else matters to him and no one else should matter to you.  

You push yourself up to loom over him and cup his chin with your hand. "Open your mouth."

He does, sticking his tongue out, ready for you to spit in his mouth. His eyes flutter when you do and you feel his cock jerk in your other hand. 

"Filthy." You sneer, but you can’t hide the thrill that goes through you at that, neither do you even try. He deserves to see your own need. "And that bastard dares to say you can discipline me." 

Beomgyu quickly pulls his tongue inside his mouth and grinds his teeth together as his hazy eyes clear up a little bit. "He said that? I'll kill him." 

"No. He doesn't matter." You brush it off, pushing him back down. None of them matter. Only Beomgyu. "As long as you're mine."

"Always."

You push his shirt up his body, bunching it up under his chin as your free hand feels his tummy up to his pert nipples–his soft tummy, so different from the hard planes of Taehyun’s abdomen now that Beomgyu allowed it to go back to its natural state. You don’t know how he got it into his head that you wanted him to resemble Taehyun when all you’ve ever wanted was everything he was.  

Beomgyu’s back arches when you flick one of his nipples lightly, his cock getting pushed further into your fist as he mewls. 

“So sensitive.” You purr, nudging his poor nipple again and again. “So desperate. You fuck me every day and night and yet you’re still so needy. Is it never enough for you?”

“Never.” He vows breathlessly. “How can I ever get my fill when you’re the most wonderful creature the gods have ever created?”

The words come to him so easily, pouring forth like a sweet balm to soothe any semblance of worry in you before it has the chance to flare up. This is what you needed. This is what love is. Yes, it hurts sometimes, but god when it’s good, nothing and no one else compares. 

"More…” Beomgyu pleads, hips nudging upwards ever so lightly. “Just a little bit more. Please." 

“Of course, whatever my baby wants.” You coo sweetly, too sweetly, increasing your pace on his cock a little bit. Just a little bit though, messing with him until he groans out in frustration. “Baby, please!”  

"What? I thought you said just a little bit." You cock your head to the side in mock confusion but the playful giggle you can’t hold back at his pout gives you away.

“You’re always so mean.” 

“Oh, puppy.” You finally take pity on him, leaning upwards to press a kiss to his lips as you quicken your pace, much faster this time, and his mouth falls open as moans stream out of it.  

"You have such a pretty cock, puppy, so big and thick. It feels so good when you fuck me." You tease him, knowing it will just drive him more insane. And it does just that, the imagery getting to his dumb head. "Yeah? Want to fuck you so bad."

"Of course you do.” You pout sympathetically, “You're ready to fuck if I even just glance your way, aren't you?"

"Yeah. All ready for you, always." He nods, hips thrusting up to fuck your fist.

“Did I say you could do that?” You hiss and he quickly stills,  whimpering at your harsh tone like a scolded dog. 

You pause for a moment to take your lover in, sprawled on the chair with his dick out and his shirt pushed up to his neck, his hands fisted into the cushion below him so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch you. He looks delectable and he’s all yours to enjoy. "You can't control yourself, can you? Maybe I need to be put on a leash or you'll be humping my leg every chance you get."

He moans at the lewd idea and surges forward to kiss you. You allow him to do it, if only so you can rile him up more, before you grab him by the neck and push him back. "You like that, don’t you, puppy? Should I make you a gold collar and put my name on it too? Show your court who rules their king?"

"Yes. You own me. You own everything." He babbles heatedly, "Whatever my queen wants, she gets. I'm just your obedient dog."

"Fuck, yes you are.” You bite down on your lip harshly, your thighs rubbing together in need at his pathetic display. “My vicious, feral dog. Come on, hump my hand." 

"Thank you." He mewls, thrusting his hips up to fuck your hand once more. He is so lost in that measly amount of pleasure, taking anything he can from you, that an even more wicked idea pops into your mind. 

“You really want to cum, huh?” You drawl cryptically, making Beomgyu tilt his head, giving you a confused look even as he continues to fuck your fist. But you don’t make him wonder for long. "Let's see if you can cum on command. I'm going to count down from ten and I want you to cum on one, pup."

"Baby–" He tries to protest but you’re already going through with it. 

"Ten." You start, making his eyes wide, and suddenly his thrusts turn frantic. 

“Good boy.” You purr, twisting your fist around his cock as a little treat for his obedience. “Nine.” 

“You’re going to kill me.” He croaks and you huff out a little laugh. If only you could. Your grip gets a little tighter around him, unintentionally helping him out. “Eight.” 

As you keep counting down, he gets more and more breathless. 

"Please, please." He cries out in desperation. “It’s not enough.” 

“Are you saying I’m not enough?” You purposefully twist his words, delighting in sick pleasure as he gasps and shakes his head. “No, no, you’re more than enough!”

“Then stop complaining and be good. Five.” 

His heartbroken wail goes straight to your pussy and you wonder if you’re the one who is going to cum on one. He just looks so delicious, sprawled there whimpering and crying as he strives to obey your almost impossible command. 

“Four.” 

“Baby… my queen…”

“Three.”

“Fuck–nghhh–”

“Two.” 

“I can’t. I can’t!” He freaks out, his eyes blown wide as he stares between you and his pistoning cock. 

"One." You take your hand away and he wails. You’re disappointed for a second–you really thought he could do this–but then you see his body go rigid before it convulses, cum spurting out of his red cock as he sobs. 

You gasp out in delight and reach out to run your hands over his feverish skin, calming him down. "Good boy." You praise, leaning up to kiss his tear-shocked face. “I’m so proud of you baby. You did it.” 

Beomgyu chases your lips, catching your lips with his own as he whines into your mouth. “So mean.” 

“Why? You got to cum.” You ask him in confusion, "Did that not feel good?"

He shakes his head and sniffles. "No. It was horrible."

"Oh, you poor pup." You take his cock in your hand and stroke it languidly, unsure if he can take it. He seems to like it though and so you ask, "Do you want more?"

"Yes.” He nods empathetically, “Yes please."

"Well, since you were such a good boy." You quicken your pace, his cum making a mess of him as you use it to stroke him. 

"Such a messy pup." You tsk, leaning forward to lick it. You don’t do a good job, a thick trail of saliva and cum linking your tongue and the head of his cock. But you weren’t trying to clean him up. You just wanted to tease him more, knowing how messy he likes it. 

"Ah please! Suck my cock."

You grin, once again getting just what you wanted. “I have a better idea.” You tell him, spitting on his cock and spreading it along his length while your other hand pushes the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him. 

“What?” He stutters, watching wide-eyed as you place his cock between your breasts and push them snuggly around it. “Come on, puppy. I know you’ve been dreaming of this.” 

"I love you." He effuses, making you laugh as his hips thrust up wildly under you to push his cock between your breasts. 

This should be humiliating. You’re on the floor, knees sore and tits out as you let him fuck them just so he can add even more to the cum and spit already covering them. But how can you feel anything but powerful when this is the king himself you have being so pathetic for you? When the one thing shining brighter than lust in his eyes is his love for you? 

“Are you okay, puppy?” You ask him, noting how he’s struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back and the way he’s panting like a dog, sweat glistening on his skin from the struggle. "Going dumb from fucking my tits?" 

"So pretty…" He whines, his thrusts growing sloppier and more erratic. "Going to cum… please let me cum."

“Go ahead, baby. You’ve been good.” Your praise, more than anything, pushes him over the edge, and he cums all over your breasts, his seed decorating your chest in beads more beautiful than any pearls. 

“That’s it. Let it all out, darling.” You coax the last bit of his cum out of his cock, rubbing the head of it against your nipples in a way that has you shaking in need. God, you need him inside you. You feel so empty. 

Sensing your need, or perhaps seeing it on your face, Beomgyu grabs your arms and pulls you to your feet, planting you onto his lap as he buries his face in your chest, licking his cum right off your tits and pebbled nipples. 

You can’t take it sitting still so you start rubbing yourself against his thigh, a fire lighting up inside you as he tickles your nipples with his tongue and sucks on them. You’re so wound up that it doesn’t take long for that fire to become an inferno, your legs clamping around his thigh as you cum, pulling his head back harshly by his long hair to give him an open-mouthed kiss. 

"Please… fuck.” He whimpers, moving your ass up so you’re sitting on his cock that is now hard once again. “Baby, please take my cock, use me." 

But you shake your head, sitting up and putting him back in his pants while he whines and protests. You press a firm kiss to his lips, shutting him up. "You have things to do. We can’t stay here all day. Go do your duties like a good king and maybe I'll let you cum inside me tonight." 

“Yes, baby.” He shivers, the fucked out look still apparent on his face as he gets up, and the thought that everyone is going to see him like this and know you’re the one who did this to him has you swelling with pride. 

___________________________________

You don’t know how you didn’t see this coming. You knew both men were out to kill each other. You knew Beomgyu offered to pardon whoever defected from Taehyun’s men and compensate them handsomely for it. You knew more and more people were turning their backs on Taehyun. You knew he was losing, and yet this somehow still comes as a shock to you. 

Kai has been captured, betrayed by Taehyun’s own men and brought to the palace to be used however Beomgyu sees fit. As it so happens, what Beomgyu sees fit is using Kai's life to bargain for Taehyun’s own life. He’s asking Taehyun to give himself up in order to save his little brother. 

Suddenly, everything becomes real.

“Sweetling, calm down.” Wonyoung’s musical voice trills out, halting your anxious pacing. 

“Calm down? How can you be so calm?” You shrill, “Aren’t you scared for him?”

“Of course, I am but I have to stand behind my brother.” Her composure ticks you off. 

“He’s going to kill Kai!” You exclaim. How can Wonyoung act so coolly about this? Doesn't she have feelings for Kai?

She sighs wearily. Despite her being a few years younger than you are, in moments like these, she feels much more mature and aged in comparison to you, like a wizened old spinster who has seen everything there is to see and knows better than you silly little you. “Not if Taehyun gives himself up.”

No. He can't do that. You shake your head in denial. “He can’t. He won’t. If he gives himself up, then the war is lost. He’s the only thing keeping it going right now. His men will put their swords down if he’s captured.” 

“Whether he gives himself up now or keeps fighting, the war is already lost. It’s better to surrender now before he’s betrayed by his own men too.” 

You grimace at her prediction. God no, that can’t happen. It would simply kill him. He has worked so hard for his city, sacrificed his childhood in order to become a strong, competent leader to his people. He suffered so much hate and malicious rumors and yet he never bowed under the pressure. So for him to go out this way, given up by his own men… it would kill his already broken spirit. 

“He’s going to take the fall for everyone. He has no choice but to give himself up so Kai can live and his city can be spared from slaughter.” She tells you, and in your delirious state you imagine you can hear a hint of sorrow in her gentle voice. You shake your head once again, childishly refusing to acknowledge the gruesome truth. She speaks again, even more gently, "Come on, sweetling, did you really think this was going to end any other way?" 

“I don’t know." You croak, Beomgyu's words clanging around inside your skull. 

I'll let you see his severed head when I bring it home to you.

She doesn’t say anything else, knowing there was no use. She just holds you and lets you cry. You already know she’s telling the truth. You just refuse to believe it. You refuse to believe it’s ending this way–just like Beomgyu wanted. Always like Beomgyu wanted. 

_________________________________

Once again it’s Wonyoung who accompanies you to visit Beomgyu’s newest prisoner. She could get in a lot of trouble for this and yet she does it anyway. You don’t know why. She doesn’t even go with you into the room Kai is being held in, weakly admitting that she can’t see him in that state. But she asks you to make sure he’s comfortable. She had requested from Beomgyu that he be held some place befitting of his status, but since she has never gathered the courage to visit him herself, she couldn’t be sure if Beomgyu had kept that promise or not. 

The guards standing outside Kai’s makeshift cell hesitate to let you in, telling you that you need permission from the king first, but Wonyoung wouldn’t have any of that. 

“This is your queen you’re speaking to. If the king finds out that you’ve refused an order from her, you’d be thrown into one of the cells, and it won’t be as nice as this one, I can promise you that.” She threatens the guard, who exchanges a look with the men flanking you. Your head knight gives him a small nod. “Listen to your queen.” 

The man takes in a weary breath and shakily raises his hand to unlock the door, the keys clanging together from the way his hand trembles. When he pushes open the heavy door, Wonyoung turns away, not bearing to even glance at her captured lover. 

“Stay here.” You quickly order your guards before you step inside. They hesitate, but before they can think it through, you shut the door in their face. Sure, they can open it again, but you’re certain Wonyoung will prevent them from doing so. 

Once you’re inside though–your back facing Kai after you’ve shut the door–you hesitate, suddenly realizing that you don’t even know why you’re here. You haven’t prepared anything to say. You’re not sure you even have anything to say. 

“Took you long enough.” Kai's voice hits your back. It’s so different from how you remember it–so tired and weak. You quickly turn around, seeing him for the first time in so long, and your heart hammers at how different he looks. 

Gone are the soft, boyish features–his round cheeks replaced by sharp bones, his eyes sinking in their sockets, his usually smiling lips pressed into a sardonic smirk. He looks exhausted. While Beomgyu has gotten softer and more radiant since you came back, Kai’s life force seems to have been stripped away from his body. 

This is what war does to those caught on the wrong side of it. This is how you know Beomgyu couldn’t have lost. The boy in front of you looks ten years older. He looks like he has seen the worst that a human can see, while Beomgyu has been thriving more and more each day. There was never any hope for Taehyun. 

Oh god, if this is what Kai looks like, then what about Taehyun? 

“Is… h-how is he?” You ask tentatively, and Kai lets out a little laugh. “Why don’t you ask him yourself. You’ll be seeing him soon enough.” 

You wince and wring your hands together anxiously. “How can I help him? There has to be a way to save him.” 

Kai scowls, getting up and walking towards you. Your heart leaps in your chest for a moment, thinking he’s going to attack you before his shackles stop him from reaching you. “There is no way. He’s been doomed since the second he laid eyes on you. You should’ve left him alone. If you had just done that, he would’ve been safe.” 

“I’m sorry.” You weep, “I didn’t know it would end this way. If there was something I could do–”

“Go back to him. Die by his side, do something right in your life.” Kai compels you and you scoff at his change in tune. “Didn’t you tell me to stay away from him?” 

“I thought that would stop your lunatic but it didn’t. It just broke Taehyun’s heart. He doesn’t love easily and I ripped the one person he loved from him.” He confesses sadly, but you shake your head in denial. “Taehyun doesn’t love me. He’s only doing this because he has a compulsive need to do the right thing even if it ends in disaster.” 

“That may be true but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you. I saw it with my own eyes.” 

“Then you saw wrong.” You shake your head again. Taehyun doesn’t love you. You don’t know what Kai thinks he saw but it wasn’t love. Beomgyu looks at you with love. You’ve never seen that look in Taehyun’s eyes. "And even if that was true, Beomgyu would never let me go. I can’t escape him.” 

“You can kill your monster.” He cuts you off, “You can rid the world of his evil.” 

Just the thought of it makes your heart clench painfully. You stare at him, wide-eyed. “I–I can’t do that… I’m carrying his baby.” 

Kai scoffs. “You’re really something else, aren’t you?” 

Humiliation burns deep inside you at his disgusted expression. "You told me to leave!" You scream. What does he want from you? 

"But I didn't tell you to fuck him.” He denounces, and in that moment you can’t even recognize the sweet boy you met a year ago anymore. “I thought you didn't want to be known as his whore."

"I am not his whore.” You insist, distraught. You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t even try to leave Beomgyu’s side anymore. Only he is safe. “I am his wife and I am carrying his rightful heir."

"And was this rightful heir conceived before or after the illegitimate marriage."

You hold in your tears. "Fine. I am rotten, just like him. I admit it. Are you happy now?"

"You should’ve realized it sooner. Your pity party is killing my brother." He spits out in disgust. “You never loved my brother. It was always Beomgyu you wanted. You just used my brother to get what you want. Well, congratulations on the happily ever after you’ll have once Taehyun is dead.” 

________________________________

Your heart almost stops when you step out of the room and come face to face with Beomgyu. He looks enraged, but you don’t even have the energy to fight with him right now. And when you collapse into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably, he too puts whatever he had to say to rest for now, carrying you in his arms and muttering to Wonyoung that he’ll deal with her later as he takes you away. 

It’s funny how you seek comfort in him from the very thing he caused and how you actually feel soothed by him. This is why your protests never get through to him. How can they when he always manages to get you back into his arms? 

You don’t see where he is taking you as you cling onto his body and hide your face in his neck. You only realize that he’s taken you back to your chambers when your back hits the mattress and the comforting and familiar smell of the room fills your nose and allows you to calm down enough to speak.

“I don’t want you to kill Taehyun.” You claw at his back desperately, your eyes searching his own for any sign of mercy. “Please.” 

He looks at you with anger in his eyes, for daring to beg for Taehyun’s life, but you’re surprised to also see pity there, and that pity tells you that there is no point to your begging. “You know I have to do it. I have to set us free. I have to protect our baby.” 

But you still plead your useless case–for if you really wanted to save Taehyun. You know what you must do. “So exile him. Banish him from the kingdom. Just don’t kill him.”   

He shakes his head, much more patient than you ever expected from him. Why was he being so gentle with you when usually any allusion to Taehyun would have him fuming with rage. Is it because he knows he has already won? 

“He will always be a threat to our family for as long as he lives. You know that.” He reminds you, “It’s time to end it. Aren’t you tired of this?” 

You are, so very tired. So tired you can’t reciprocate the kiss Beomgyu initiates, prompting him to pull back to look you in the eyes. And that’s when you realize why he’s being so sweet. He’s afraid he’s going to lose you again. He’s afraid that Taehyun’s death will make you withdraw into yourself again. He’s been keeping you as far away from the war as he possibly could so you wouldn’t fully fathom the gravity of it all, but now that it’s ending, there is no escape from the heavy price. 

When it comes down to it, is it going to be him or Taehyun you’re going to protect? 

“I love you.” He tells you urgently and waits for you to say it back, his eyes swimming with fear and uncertainty, his soul just about to drown in them. His soul, your other half, how could you possibly let it sink? 

“I love you too.” You finally say it, and his sigh of relief is like a drowned man’s first gasp for breath after being revived, quickly followed by more and more. 

“I love you. I love you.” He sobs, smothering you with kisses that you swallow down eagerly. 

He makes love to you, needy and scared, clinging onto you tight enough to leave room for nothing but his whispered confessions and pleas for yours. 

"Say you love me." He begs urgently, craving it more than his building release. 

"I love you." You blabber, your own ears not able to distinguish your words from the pathetic sobs as his hips smack against yours feverishly, but he hears them. 

"Say it again."

"I love you." 

"Again. Please." 

"I love you."

"Only me." 

"Only you." 

Beomgyu doesn’t let you breathe in anything that isn’t him. He surrounds you everywhere–his heat, his scent, his heartbeat… it all blends together and flows into you, uniting your being with his so tightly you don’t know where you end and he begins. 

_____________________________________

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” You whisper to the man behind you in an effort to not wake up the sleeping baby laying in his crib in front of you–your baby, your little prince. 

“Is he?” 

That voice. 

You immediately whip around, fear gripping your heart as you come face to face with the man you once called your husband. 

“Taehyun!” You stammer, reaching your arms out to try to protect your baby from him but when you hazard a glance back, he’s not there. 

“Where is he? You ask, panicked. 

“I could’ve given you a child. That baby should’ve been mine.” 

Tears spring to your eyes at his words. “Please, give him back.” 

But he ignores your plea, advancing on you. You try to move away but your legs don’t obey you. They keep you rooted to the spot as he comes closer and cradles your face in his hand. “Why did you leave me?” 

"I wanted to protect you." You attempt to answer, but your uncertainty is evident even to him. 

"Did you?" You look away guiltily but he turns your head back towards him. "Did you also give him a child to protect me? Are you going to let him kill me to protect me?"

"I tried to stop him but I failed. You saw what happened. I always mess up. I don't know what to do, Taehyun." You cry, but Taehyun isn’t Beomgyu, and he isn’t going to coddle you no matter how much you cry and whimper. "That's not an excuse."  

“I know, I–” He kisses you, shutting up your worthless justifications. Once again you can’t move. You have to stand there and let him devour your lips, his kisses harsh and angry. 

So you focus on gathering all the strength in your body, an effort so immense just to take a step back and beg, "Stop." 

He hears you and he pulls away, but only enough to talk, his lips brushing against yours as he does. "Why?”

“I’m married to Beomgyu.”

That makes him laugh darkly. “That didn’t stop you before. You cheated on me. What does it matter if you cheat on him too? That's what you do." 

You try to shake your head but he has your hair all fisted in his hand. “Don’t deny it. You want to be fucked, I know. Maybe if I had fucked you enough before, you wouldn’t have ran after his dick.” 

He rips your dress from your body, tearing it away the same way he did when you wore that dress Wonyoung got you, and with the same disdain. “I hate these fucking dresses.” He growls, “But you love them, don’t you? It’s another reason why you crawled back to him. I tried to give them to you, lost my fucking eye over it, but you couldn’t even give me some more time.” 

“That’s not why I left.” You deny, but that just makes him angrier. 

“Don’t lie to me. You know what I do to liars.” He hisses, grabbing your chin and digging his fingers into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open for him to kiss. He coaxes your tongue out, sucking on it before grazing it with his sharp teeth, making you shiver with both fear and lust. 

Are you lying? If you aren’t then why are you letting Beomgyu kill Taehyun? Why haven’t you killed him when you had the chance? 

Because you love him. Because you can’t live without him. Because he’s the father of your child. Because even though he is wicked, you could do so much good together, help so many people, live the rest of your life trying to atone for the horrible sins you've committed. 

But will you ever be forgiven?

As if he could hear your thoughts, Taehyun asks, “Do you believe him when he tells you that everything will be okay when I'm gone, angel? Do you think you'll forget me when I die? You think he’ll ever forget that I had you when he can taste me on your lips? Even if he kills me, he’ll always know that you let me shove my cock inside your pretty mouth and your tight cunt.” 

“Taehyun!” You gasp. This was so unlike him–the possessiveness, the jealousy, the emotion.  

“What? You like it when I talk to you like this? Treat you like the whore you are?” He grabs the underside of your thighs and lifts you up, walking you towards the bed before throwing you on it and prowling up to cover you with his body. He looms over you. "And you, you think it won’t eat you up alive everyday knowing what you did to me?"

"Then kill me." You beg him and he laughs. Clearly you aren’t strong enough to hurt Beomgyu or yourself, but he is. He can end you. He can end this tortured existence. "No, you don't deserve the mercy of death. You deserve to live by that monster for the rest of your miserable life."

“Taehyun–ah!” You squeak as he rips your legs open.

“Look how wet you are. You really like this, don’t you?” 

You bite your lip, trying to gather up your own emotions like precious gold, scared to show them to him lest he steal them away. 

He scoffs at your silence. “Come on, angel, speak up. I can’t know what you’re feeling if you don’t talk. So speak up.” He mocks, his fingers gliding up and down your spread pussy, his eyes falling to your hole as it flutters around nothing. 

His fingers tease around your entrance as his gaze flicks back up to you, harsh and angry, before he slams his fingers inside you, making your mouth fall open in a sharp cry. “Speak up, bitch.” 

“I’m sorry.” You weep, not knowing what else to say as his fingers ram into you, much too fast and hard. “I’m sorry, Taehyun.”

“Are you? Are you really?” He tilts his head to the side jeeringly, but you nod earnestly. “I am. I am.”

“If all that’s going to come out of that pretty mouth is lies then maybe you shouldn’t talk.” 

“W-what–hmph!” He stuffs his fingers that were just in your pussy into your mouth, choking you on your own taste. 

"You never loved me. You used me.” He spits out bitterly, and you feel his cock prodding at your entrance before it breaches your hole in one stroke. “You killed me."

Suddenly, Taehyun looks different, his clean, white skin covered in nasty cuts and bruises, a hideous gash extending across his neck, dripping warm blood onto your naked body. 

Overcome with the urge to throw up at the sickening sight, you close your eyes tightly, hoping to dispel the gruesome image, but he screams at you to look at him, not letting you escape what you did. 

“Look at me. Look at me! Look what you did.” 

You cry as you shake your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks. Or maybe it was blood. 

"Don't cry." He screams at you as he continues to fuck you, uncaring about the pain he’s causing you or the blood that drains from his body. "You fucking killed me, you bitch."

You shake your head harder, unable to speak with the fingers buried deep in your mouth, the tips of them hitting the back of your throat and making you choke on something that didn’t taste like you anymore. No, it tasted metallic and nauseating. 

"Don’t cry." A voice shouts in your ear, much more vivid and clear this time. It feels more real than everything else and the shock of it allows you to finally, finally, spit the fingers out, sputtering out repeated No’s as your whole body spasms with cold dread.  

“Please, stop crying.” It tells you again, surprisingly gentle and worried. “Calm down, baby. I’m here. Please, princess!” 

Princess? 

Suddenly, you’re pulled out of this void of agony and despair you’ve been plunged into. Blinking away your tears, the ghastly visage of your past lover slowly loses its crimson discoloration as it morphs into the terrified face of your husband, tears of his own streaking down his flushed cheeks as he gazes at you in horror. 

“Beomgyu?” You croak, voice scratchy and strained. “W-what’s happening?” 

“You were having a nightmare, baby.” He explains, sniffling. 

“Why are you crying?” You ask, cupping his cheek and weakly wiping his sparkling tears away. 

“You were making all those noises, like you were being choked, and I–I was so worried.” He whimpers, leaning into your touch. “It’s so stupid. You’re the one who was having the nightmare, but I was so scared because I couldn’t get you to wake up. I couldn’t reach you in there.” He breaks out into a loud sob at the last part, lips trembling as he relives the terror. 

“I was scared too.” You whisper, pulling him tightly against you as if the physical proximity would allow him to protect your soul from further attack. 

Is this what your life is going to be like from now on? Plagued by nightmares of what you and your lover did? Getting trapped in a ghoulish dreamland where Beomgyu can’t reach you to comfort you? Is this your divine punishment?

______________________________

Taehyun is here. He is here to give himself up to appease Beomgyu’s wrath and save everyone else. He’s here to die so you can get your happily ever after. 

And here Beomgyu is, getting dressed in his ceremonial armor to personally carry out the execution of the man whose only sin was briefly making you his. 

You get dressed too, your attire blood-red just like Beomgyu’s so you wouldn’t be able to see any of the blood that might splatter in the aftermath of today’s abomination. 

"Don't make it hurt.” You plead your lover, and Beomgyu snaps his head to look at you with equal parts fury and imploration–half a mad king and half a child begging for something he wants but knows he shouldn’t have. "Let me take my vengeance on him."

"You're decimated his army, brought him to the ground, and now you’re going to take his life. What more do you need?” You press your hands against the gold of his breastplate, seeking the heartbeat you know is under there. “Just give him a quick death. Get it over with. Please, for me."

He looks into the distance, the request not sitting well with him, but he didn’t shoot you down immediately which tells you that he’s at least considering it. 

“Fine.” He says at long last and your knees buckle in relief under you as if you had managed to save Taehyun. “You don’t have to come, you know?” 

“I thought you said you would kill him in front of my eyes.” You remind him of his own words and he gives you a weary look. “I was mad when I said that. I never want to intentionally hurt you.”

You laugh wistfully at his claim. What he means is that he never wants to hurt you in a way that wouldn't benefit him, and he knows that seeing him personally kill Taehyun might be too much even for you.

This has always been Beomgyu’s method–keep you away from the battlefield so you’d forget all about his monstrous actions. But you owe this to Taehyun. If you’re the reason he’s losing his life then the least you could do is look him in the eye during his final moments and face all the hate he has for you. 

“I have to come.” 

“My queen–” 

“I chose you. You owe me this.” You snap at him and he recoils, shoulders slumping. He’s so anxious about ending this that he doesn’t have the energy to protest much “Yes, darling.” 

________________________

If you thought Kai looked bad, then Taehyun looks like he already has one foot beyond the veil. You’ve never seen him look so small, stripped of his leather and armor, his muscles–though never remarkably big–wasting away from malnourishment and the stress of war, what appears of his skin bruised and discolored, and his hair cut in a blunt style so as not to obstruct the vision in his one good eye. 

Dear god, his eyes. 

He's not even wearing the black enamel anymore, a hollow socket left in its place surrounded by darkened skin, giving you a glimpse of what he will look like once the crows have picked out the other eye. After all, dead men have no use for sight. 

But for now, he sees, looking at you with that singular, stormy eye of his, and you don’t know how you missed it before–perhaps it got diluted in the middle back when both were intact, and then was overshadowed by the black orb he put in-but you see so much emotion there now, intensified enough by the singular outlet for you to finally perceive. 

Anger, pride, regret, disappointment, fear… and so much more that you can't begin to untangle, so much that will be silenced forever when his vision goes dark. 

His gaunt face had been so startling to behold that you almost missed the necklace wrapped around his neck… a pearl necklace, your necklace!

W-What? Why? Why is he wearing that? What is he trying to do? 

You ponder it for a second, eyes jumping around the room in a confused frenzy, before they land on Beomgyu’s sword, and you’re immediately hit with a sickening realization–he’s showing the world who is behind his death. You are. You did this to him. 

Suddenly, you see him as you saw him in your dream, wounded and bloody. You see Beomgyu standing over his corpse, triumphant. And it takes everything in you not to fall to your knees. 

He doesn't deserve this. It had been so exhausting for you to fight your short battle before you gave in and ran back to your captor, but Taehyun has been fighting all his life. He never gave up, never flinched back no matter the horror he was facing. He even fought for you when you couldn't be bothered to fight for yourself. And yet here you are, preparing to watch him die for the sin of choosing to help you when he should have turned away like all the others. 

No act of kindness goes unpunished. 

You shake your head, a few bitter tears getting dislodged in the process and burning down your cheeks.

It has to be done. You think as Beomgyu recounts to the crowd of noble men and women gathered the crimes he has fabricated for Taehyun, his only real crime standing there for all to gawk at.

It has to be done. You think as you watch the proud man being forced to his knees, his head lowered down so his pearled neck could receive the royal sword’s fatal kiss. Still, he attempts to look at you, raising his face up to pin you under his gaze the same way the guards are pinning him to the floor. 

It has to be done. You think as Beomgyu, enraged that Taehyun even dares to look at you, grabs him by the back of the head and shoves his face back down. But once again, Taehyun looks up at you. 

It has to be done. You think as Beomgyu angrily unsheathes his sword and doesn't even ask Taehyun for his last words. 

It has to be done. 

Gods help you for what you're about to do. 

It's easy for you to slip past the guards flanking your side. You’ve proven yourself loyal to Beomgyu and so they forsake watching you in favor of watching the deadly dance of their king and the reviled warlord. 

You didn't expect to do this, you contemplate as your legs that were so heavy before carry you easily towards Beomgyu, as if walking on air, your arms solidly brandishing the dagger you had been gifted by the man on his knees. 

Taehyun is the only one to react to your sudden movement, eyes widening as he gasps. 

Or maybe he’s the only one you can see or hear, because suddenly Beomgyu is turning around to face you, startled. It all happens slowly, so painfully slowly. You can see the concern on his face first, followed by shock when he sees the dagger glinting in the sunlight, and then pain erupts across his beautiful face as the dagger plunges itself into his chest. 

You let out a pained wail even before he does. 

"I'm sorry." You choke out, your fingers grasping the hilt of the dagger in a death-grip as if you could take it back. As if you can undo what you've done. "I'm so sorry."

You hear people running behind you but Beomgyu barks at them. “Don’t touch her!”

They immediately still, clueless as to what to do as everyone else is in this court of madness. As clueless as you are. 

Oh, gods, what have you done?

“Hey, it’s okay. Don't cry.” Beomgyu murmurs softly, braving the pain to comfort you. Always comforting you even as your knife is buried in his chest. “I hate seeing you cry."

That just makes you cry harder. You’ve made a terrible mistake. "Beomgyu, I–" 

Your eyes widen as you’re cut off by a sharp pain that overwhelms your senses, and you look down to see Beomgyu's sword jutting out from your abdomen. You look up at him in confusion, not grasping what you’re seeing. Beomgyu would never hurt you like this. He would never. "Beomgyu?" 

But if the excruciating pain radiating from the sword protruding from your belly isn’t making it clear enough, then the horrified screams of Wonyoung does. "What have you two done?!" 

You also hear an anguished shout of your name, followed by a commotion and what sounds like someone being restrained. 

But you don’t look at any of them. You only look at the man in front of you–your lover, your soulmate, your killer. 

"Shhh. It's going to be okay.” He hushes your pitiful cries. “I'm not going to leave you. Never again." 

Of course. It all makes sense now. Beomgyu promised to never let you go, and he’s not going to break that promise even in death. 

"I love you." He murmurs, pressing a tight, pained kiss to your lips. 

"I love you too." You say helplessly. You deserve it all. You deserve him. You harbored this monster, loved and nourished him, reveled in all the twisted pleasures he gave you, hid between his sharp claws that were sullied by the blood of others. So how can you expect a different end to such a despicable existence?

"I'll find you in our next life." He vows to you, smiling as if it were your wedding day again. "I'll get it right next time. I promise you."

Next time? The thought sends a chill down your spine. 

No, please, let this be the end. You love him endlessly and tirelessly. The sun might grow sick of the day sky, the waves might abandon their shores, mothers might forsake their young, but you’d never stop loving Beomgyu. 

But you can’t do this again. Please, let your souls intertwine and become a distant star, far away from everyone and everything, together forever or until the lights in the heavens go out. But not this again. 

"It looks like you hit my heart. How ironic is that?" Beomgyu lets out a shuddering laugh before he kisses you again sluggishly. "Don't keep me waiting for long. I’ll miss you. I love you."

“Beomgyu, I–” 

He slumps forward, falling limply into your arms. 

Wonyoung shrieks, running towards you and taking him from your paralyzed grip. “Call the palace physician. Get him here now!”

The whole court springs into action, trying to save their king and queen. But you know it’s no use. He’s already dead. You know he’s dead. You can’t feel his soul anymore, and you know that soon, you will be too.

______________

You’re not dead yet. How could you not be dead yet when half your soul is already rotting away? Why are you still clinging onto this miserable world that has lost all its color and beauty with the departure of your loved one? The gods must truly enjoy your suffering to want to prolong it this much. 

When the door creaks open, your dying heart gives a weak thump, still foolishly hoping it would somehow be Beomgyu on the other side, back to tell you that he’s okay after all, that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed to be, and that he forgives you for what you had done. 

But it wasn’t Beomgyu. No, because you killed him. 

It was Taehyun, who now seems to resemble death itself, and for a second you wonder if the gods were playing a particularly cruel joke on you by having your collector take on the form of the man you had betrayed and betrayed the love of your life for. 

“Taehyun?” You ask shakily, growing more anxious the longer he hesitates at the door. Startled by your voice, he finally moves, walking towards you with trepidation in his step that is entirely too human. “I’m here.” 

He takes your hands in his and you stare down at them, feeling the chasm in your heart pulsating hideously at the touch as if in protest. 

"You saved me." He breathes out incredulously, like he can’t believe it. You can’t believe it too. 

"You deserve to live." You tell him, matter of fact. Everyone got what they deserved. 

"So do you." He proclaims and you smile wistfully. Oh, Taehyun. 

"What is going to happen to you now?" You ask him, brushing off his misguided declaration and he frowns, considering whether to push his point or just answer your question.  

For now, he answers your question. "I don't know but princess Wonyoung–well, I should say queen Wonyoung now--is allowing me and Kai to return home if we agree to a ceasefire. I don't think she cares about continuing the war anymore. Neither do we."

"Right." With Beomgyu dead and you to follow him, what else is there to fight about? 

"It won't be easy dealing with the fallout but–" 

"But it's better this way." You finish for him. 

"No! How can it be better when I'm losing you?" His voice wavers and you look at him curiously. Is he going to cry for you? After all you’ve done? 

"Don't cry over me. I don’t deserve it. I loved him." 

"He tricked you. He–"

You squeeze his hands firmly, or as firm as your dwindling strength allows, stopping his empathetic excuses. "I still loved him and you know that. You don’t have to pretend like I’m blameless just because I’m dying. It isn't like you."

"I just…" He trails off, staring down at your joined hands uselessly. 

"I still loved him… I loved him and he killed our baby. He didn’t want me to live if he wasn’t going to have me.” You pause, letting out a tired laugh. It was never about protecting your child after all. It was about keeping you. “You know what the sad thing is? I wouldn’t have wanted to live without him either, but he didn’t even give me the choice. He never did.” 

Taehyun stays silent and you wonder what is going on inside his head. He must think you’re stupid for expecting anything else from Beomgyu. He must think you deserve it now. He must find you abhorrent for saying you would have killed yourself if Beomgyu hadn’t. 

"You should go." You sigh, the breath coming out harder now.

But to your surprise, he shakes his head. “No. I won’t go.” He says, taking out the pearl necklace he was wearing at his failed execution. "I am not going to leave you alone." 

He leans forward, trying to wrap the necklace around your neck but you lift your hand up and push it down, shaking your head. 

"I won't be alone." You say and he looks at you in confusion. "I'll be with him."

His face changes into the contemptuous expression you've been expecting all this time. "You're choosing him again? I can't even win against his corpse?" He spits out bitterly, taking the necklace back and shoving it in his pocket.

"I killed him for you. What more do you want?” You ask him tiredly. Haven’t you already made the ultimate sacrifice for him? Is even this not enough? Can’t you spend your last moments on alive with the one person who loved you? The person you betrayed for Taehyun? The person who is now cold and stiff on his deathbed, waiting for you to warm him up or grow cold next to him. 

He’s so, so cold… 

“You know you never even said you loved me once?" 

“I did–” He protests but you cut him off. “You’ve never said I love you and meant it.” 

He opens his mouth and you hold your breath, the world stilling around you. 

Do you want to hear it? Would it make anything better? It would only dig the knife of what could’ve been deeper. What use is it now?

But you do want to hear it. You want to believe that you could’ve had someone else’s love, that you could’ve deserved more than what Beomgyu dictated for you. 

But then he shuts his mouth again, furiously wiping away his tears as if it disgusted him to have any evidence of them left.

"Go, Taehyun. I don't want to spend my last few hours on this earth doubting if I am worthy of love or not. At least he loved me. He's the only one who ever did." 

And so he leaves–storming away angrily and slamming the door behind him, but he leaves. He always leaves. 

Isn’t it time for you to die yet? 

In the wake of Taehyun’s furious exit and behind your useless tears, you see Wonyoung enter, a vision of an angel as she floats down towards your deathbed. 

"Is there any way I could make you more comfortable?" She asks softly. 

"Why are you so nice to me? I killed your brother."

She shakes her head, always so patient despite her grief. "He killed himself when he started all of this."

You don’t get her. How can she be so fine with this when the weight of what you’ve done is killing you faster than the sword they took out of you. "Aren't you angry at me?"

"What use is being angry? Is it going to bring him back?" She asks, finally letting a little edge creep out in her voice, but she quickly reins it back in. "My brother made a lot of mistakes, some he was driven to and some by his own volition, and they all led to where he is right now. It is no use to dwell on it. Why spend your last hours making you answer for sins you've committed together? For sins I was a part of. I killed him as much as you did when I encouraged his unhealthy obsession."

You fall silent for a while, considering her words. She’s right. What use is it dwelling on any of this and leaving him alone? You’re going to die soon so you might as well let go of your guilt. The gods will make you answer for your crimes whether you feel sorry about them or not. 

"I want to be with him." You finally say and she nods. “He’d like that.”

__________________

They take you to him, laying you both down on your bed before leaving you alone with only a single candle burning on the bedside table. It’s good. Your souls need the peace. 

You look up at your lover’s deathly visage and frown. He used to be so expressive, in happiness, in love, in anger, in madness… never was there such a lively spirit as his, but as you look at him now, you find nothing but emptiness that resounds in your very core. It chills you to the bone as you curl up tighter around him, chasing a warmth that isn’t there anymore. 

You don't know what will become of the others now. Will the war really end? Is Wonyoung going to be a good queen? Will Taehyun get remarried? How will Beomgyu be remembered in a hundred years? Will you both be wiped out from the history books?

You hope so. The oblivion of death can’t come soon enough. 

Mercifully, you can feel the drug Wonyoung had given you making its way from your faltering heart to your collapsing veins, pulling you into a slumber you know you won’t be waking from. 

You smile at the thought, leaning up to kiss the corner of Beomgyu’s lips before whispering one last “I love you.”

And with that, you finally let go.

______________________

A/N: well, it's finally over. make sure to let me know what you thought of the end or i will cry. lol jk but i really really appreciate all the feedback. thank you all for coming on this journey with me. i definitely wouldn't have been able to finish this fic if it weren't for all your support ❤️

and now, click on this link to see the future fics i have in store and vote on your favorite one. the one you pick will be the one i write!

[sweetpinkchampagne]

take me back to the start

pairing: simon riley x fem reader

synopsis: simon is deployed to fight in a proxy war in lebanon, with christmas nearing - its weird you get a 2am call from him when he’s supposed to be fighting.

warnings: mentions of war, guns, violence, cliche meet cute, elf being named as the best christmas movie :), major character death :(

note: so im actually sick in the head, angst for a tuesday night felt right though. love you all, we can pretend this is a hea or maybe i can rewrite it as one? stay safe pumpkins! for ultimate angst play the scientist by coldplay. https://open.spotify.com/track/75JFxkI2RXiU7L9VXzMkle?si=DJVMJFadQ3-ixAJjib3i6w

a meet cute is what they call it in those cheesy romance movies: “(in a film or television programme) an amusing or charming first encounter between two characters that leads to the development of a romantic relationship between them.” it was too cliche to be a coincidence. you had a gun in your hands, pointed at your target, focus in your open eye as you shot and missed.

the laughing clown on the carnival stand wall. the loud sound of metal clinking as you hit a tin can instead rang in your ears and you sighed softly. you felt a presence next to you, confidence exuding from him. embarrassment flushed your cheeks, expecting a chuckle or a tongue in cheek phrase. but he spoke softly to you, despite his gruff manchester accent.

“first time handling a gun?” the man asked and you turned to look up at him. 6’5. holy shit?

“is it that obvious..?” you sighed softly, laughing and covering your face in shame.

“not a bad thing love, you wanna learn how to shoot one properly? i can help ya.”

“you shoot guns? are you even qualified to do that?”

“you’d be surprised.”

“yes please..” you smiled softly, laughing at your attempts as he nodded, walking behind you and putting his hands on your hips, lining you up properly.

“this okay?”

“mhm” you said softly, focused on the task at hand, not his huge hands on your hips. you looked back up to meet the eyes of the teenager behind the jump, i mean obviously this was a scam but you thought it would be fun. he looked about 15, can of coke in hand, gaze elsewhere clearly not wanting to work at the carnival of all places.

simon’s foot moved between the small gap between your ankles and kicked one of them to the side slightly and you yelped, but he braced you in his grip, a chuff escaping his lips.

“now dont be gettin skittish when you’re holdin a gun, not a good look, huh?” you nodded laughing softly as he lined your hands up.

“uh-uh, bend this one.” he tapped your left up softly and you bent it, the other one straight.

“atta girlll, lookin like a sharp shooter now. m’kay, need ya to pretend you’re cutting a slice of pie, one arm bent, one straight, focus on the target and adjust your aim by moving your arm softly up and down across to the target like you’re cutting pie.” you smiled to yourself at the sweet analogy and you complied.

“slow- slow..” he added softly and you slowed your pace.

“shoot.” he spoke softly and you hesitated

“i really dont think im gonna get it-”

“shoot for me love.” this time you didnt hesitate, but you yelped as a loud “YOU WON!” automated winning message rung out through the speakers of the carnival machine.

“gosh!” you sighed, clutching your heart and laughing, shocked from the sudden noise. he laughed with you. the rest of that night was spent on the beach pier, long after dark where numbers were exchanged and names were shared. a year later he put a ring on it. mrs. riley.

it was the first snow of the month. 23 days and counting until christmas, and you could not contain the excitement. tucked up in your king sized bed, covered in blankets, bedsocks, flannel pajamas and the weighted blanket you used when simon was on deployment. it was comforting, made you feel like he was right there beside you: waking up next to his blonde stubble pressed against your neck as he rested on your shoulder. it was 2am, you had just stayed up to watch elf, because its a fact that's the best christmas movie to exist, and those idiots who say home alone clearly suck the fun out of things. because m&m spaghetti? yes please. 11 more days until you could run into his sweaty grimy arms, being poked by his tactical gear and not giving two shits, because your husband would be home. christmas could finally come. you tossed and turned thinking about holding your husbands cheeks in your hands, he was probably beyond exhausted, deployed in lebanon, you weren’t allowed to know, so you didn’t ask, but he called you when he could: always during the late hours into the night for him, so he wouldnt wake you in the middle of the night. a gentleman. time zone differences sucked.

you huffed as you flipped your pillow over to the cool side and laid your head down annoyed at your inability to fall asleep. your phone’s screen lit up the room, your lockscreen making you smile, a photo of simon teaching you how to chop wood in your backyard, your head was back, laughing as you wore a typical ‘lumberjack’ flannel because you thought they were sexy, simon refused much to your demise to wearing one as well. the lockscreen was replaced with his name, an incoming call. your eyebrows furrowed, it was late. but you supposed it had been 3 days since he last called, this was probably because he just got access to reception. you lazily reached over, hitting click and closing your eyes, falling back onto the pillow and smiling when you heard his voice.

“didn’t think you’d answer, you should be asleep, baby.” he spoke into the phone.

“always answer for you, si. what, late night booty call?” you giggled into the phone, you were joking of course, but you wanted to hear him laugh. and he did.

“hilarious one, you are.” he shook his head, laughing heartily.

“mhmm thats why you married me.”

“thats why i married you.” he parroted back to you, softer this time.

“i missed you, its been 3 days.”

“i know baby, im sorry- it’s been tight here.” you sat up softly, leaning up against the pillows

“is everything alright?” you asked a little concerned.

“yeah. uh-” you heard him wince softly, hearing shuffling in the background.

“si? what’s- are you hurt? where’s johnny?” you said seriously, eyebrows furrowed.

“baby..need you to listen to me, can ya do that fr’ me?” he said pained.

“simon?” you choked out, out of bed, pacing out the bedroom.

“mission went south. i uh-..” he paused and you held onto your phone for dear life. “i don’t think im gonna make it back to you sweetheart.” he almost whispered. you didnt respond for a moment, choked sobs filling the room, and his end of the call.

he was pressed up against a sandstone wall, his men were killed in action, he avenged them, but at what cost? he lay there, shot in the abodmen, cuts all over him, laboured breathing as he held his stomach.

“nono- no.. baby, i dont- we cant- .. i dont.. we’re running outta time, yeah? cant have my last time hearing ya be hearing your sobs.” he began to break down, his voice shaky. you wailed.

“you cant do this! you cant- how, i dont- im not even going to be able to bury you! this isnt fair, we were.. this wasnt supposed to happen.”

“sweetha’rt- please listen to me. dont have time. we dont have time” his voice pitched as he winced in pain. “fuck.” he choked out, head thrown back. “i love you, you know that? more than anything in this fucked up little world. you’re keeping me going here.” he said softly into the phone.

your hands were cradling your head, ear pressed to the phone as you accepted this fucked reality that the cards dealt you with. you finally found it. safety, love all for it to be ripped out from underneath you for some fucking proxy war he had been tasked to fight in. his stocking hung up by the fireplace next to yours, already filled with new cologne and underwear.

“i love you- iloveyou more than i could even put into words. please simon, please dont do this to me.”

“i dont have a choice lovie. you’re my strong girl, you can be brave for me, yeah?” you didnt speak into the phone, too pained.

“honey.” he said sternly.

“i promise i will be, of course i will be.” you responded breathing erratically.

“tell me about today.” he said sternly.

“what? no, simon.. thats”

“please. need to hear you speak to me.”

“i-.. i um, i got the oil changed today for the car, and i know you said you wanted to do it because i get ripped off at the mechanics but i couldnt wait… i made gingerbread today, and i gave some to the next door neighbours because im used to you eating what i bake within seconds, and it was too much for one.” he smiled softly into the phone, you could hear it in his voice.

“what i would give for some of your fuckin gingerbread right now.” you sniffled softly, nodding.

“it snowed. it snowed today, a whole foot. i thought of you.” you smiled into the phone, your nose dripping and your cheeks streaked as you blubbered.

“you’re in the snow, im in a desert.” he laughed weakly at the irony.

“simon i cant do this, pretend this is a normal conversation, i cant let you die. dont die, dont leave me here.” you wailed loudly, clutching at your heart.

you could hear him sigh, not out of frustration but out of defeat, he cursed the fucking suicide mission he had been sent on. what about this shit fight was honorable? this wasn’t war, this was just killing for the sake of killing.

“yes you can. you coulda been a fuckin soldier, stubborn as one. you’re so strong baby, so strong. you can do it, for me you can.” he said sternly. “baby i-.. i gotta.. i gotta go soon..getting cold.” he added.

“close your eyes” you whispered into the phone softly. “close your eyes and pretend you’re with me, its okay honey. you can rest now.” you tried to be strong for him, even though your voice was shaking.

“mm.. beside you. does the house still smell like gingerbread?”

“yes” you breathed

“i can smell it. when i close my eyes and imagine… i betcha the kitchens covered in icing sugar and gumdrops.” you laughed, hiccuping as you tastes your own tears.

“i love you baby. im sorry i brought you into this. not how i wanted to go. you know that.”

“i know, dont apologise. its okay. you cold?”

“colder.” blood loss.

“i know. its okay. rest, you can.. you can let go.”

“dont hang up.”

“of course i wont. not leaving you si. you’re stuck with me.” he laughed weakly, and went quiet.

“still with me honey?” you asked, fear in your voice. a grunt of approval rung through the phone. running out of time.

“i love you simon riley. more than anything in this fucked up little world.”

the line went quiet. he died peacefully, hearing your sweet words, phone cradled into his chest as he drew his final breath.

p.s. while you did never get to bury his body (it was never found), you were given his badges from the base and his spare dog tags.

“S. RILEY”

[mariabtsos]

Unsinkable ||j.jk|| Chapter 9

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Description: The 1910s are the peak of passenger ships, it was also the peak of classism, Jungkook is a third class immigrant from Korea, and you are a first class “prisoner” not wanting to go back to a life of strict standards. Once you meet Jungkook, life seems worth living, but when tragedy strikes, will you guys make it out to live the life you planned?

Genre: One-shot, Titanic AU, poor/artist!JK x rich!f reader, angst, fluff, very slight smut, forbidden love.

Warnings: ANGST, major character death, descriptions of drowning or being stuck underwater, mentions of coma and it's effect (Brain Death wasn't discovered until 1968), ending of life supporting measures, grief, amputation of a limb.

AN: This is the second to last chapter, next one will be the final one, it will include a source list with excellent channels and educational sources for you to inform yourself about the Titanic and how everything played out according to history if you are not aware of the actual story, even if the 1997 film is somewhat accurate, there's things it got wrong that even I didn't know until my research for this story.

Word Count: 1.7K+

Thank goodness both Yoongi and Jungkook were being sent to the same hospital, Taehyung and Jimin arrived an hour or so after you, you made sure to give their names to the nurses so they could come see you, since you had to be admitted due to your knee, and the horrible frostbite on your nose and fingers.

You’d been put in the same ambulance as Jungkook, and although you were so happy to see him, his state made your heart shrivel up. His eyes were shut, and he looked so pale, you could still see some little spots of frost on his hair. He was still breathing from what you could tell, and you wondered if he could still hear you.

You tried reaching for his hand but the EMT stopped you, explaining that they had to take his temperature and then wrap him up in wool blankets, given how cold he was to the touch. All you could do was talk to him.

“We made it, Jungkook! We're almost at the hospital, you just have to hold on for a little longer,” you felt yourself tear up, why had this happened this way? You were supposed to be running off together right now, with Jimin, Taehyung, and Chris in tow. How had it all gone so wrong?

You were separated once you made it to the hospital, they had to take him for some tests and you to get your knee and ribs taken care of. The pain was unbearable, you hadn't realized how bad your knee was hurt until they set it back in place, then again, the doctors said that you had just reached normal temperature. Maybe you were too cold and too worried about Jungkook to care.

You were given crutches and pain meds and sent on your way, the hospital needed the beds.

“Ynie?” You saw Taehyung standing in the waiting room, tears in his eyes. You were so grateful they had made it to the hospital, and you didn't hesitate to give him a hug.

“Tae, thank goodness you're here!” He hugged you tightly, and soon after Jimin hugged you as well, the baby in his arms was now swaddled and had a little beanie, “did they tell you when Jungkook might be waking up?” the latter asked as you pulled away, you simply shook your head.

“I hope it's soon, did you guys see Yoongi? Is he okay?”

“We know he's awake, and we know he was screaming, but so were a lot of other folks,” Jimin answered. It was like he called on something, all of the sudden more screaming was heard. It wasn't just victims in pain anymore.

You saw a woman with one of her children down on her knees screaming. A bigger family hugging a pair of small children, a man quietly sobbing in the corner, and so many others. You were so lucky to still be alive, to have the one you love still be alive. You felt horrible for all of them.

“That big family over there, aren't those Martha's kids?” Jimin nudged Taehyung, who immediately made his way to them, followed quickly by Jimin.

You watched as they talked to them all, the kids immediately hugging Tae’s legs, his face contorted a bit as he kneeled down to be at the children's level, they hugged him tightly. You realized quickly that their mom probably begged for someone to take them up to the lifeboats, or maybe she'd managed to get there before they launched and she put them in there first?

Did you see her floating body when you were in the water with Jungkook? Had she been one of the first screams to dull down, or one of the last ones along with you? You assumed it was the latter, you hoped that's what it was and not that their other family had to come get them because they had no one else left.

Taehyung and Jimin sat quietly next to you in the waiting room, the dread you felt was unbearable, almost like the same dread you felt just a five days ago, when you boarded the ship that was now thousands of feet underwater, you wondered if there were alive toward the end, and you shivered at how horrifying, dark and lonely that must’ve been, going down with a ship and seeing nothing but darkness during your final moments.

You shuddered.

After what felt like hours to you, a doctor finally came out “Relatives of Jungkook Jeon?” The man called, he butchered your lover's name so horribly, but you didn't care at the moment, you stood up faster than your brain could realize and Taehyung ended up having to hold you up since you forgot your crutches.

“I'm his wife, is he okay? Can we go see him? Will he be discharged soon?” your mouth was moving faster than ever as you asked the questions.

“Mrs Jeon…” the doctor took a deep breath, you'd seen the look he was giving you before, you and your mother got that look when your father passed away. You started breaking down. “We did all we could but he seems to be in a deep comatose state and he can't breathe on his own,” he explained. You felt your knees buckle under you.

“Do you want us to stop life saving measures?”

How can this be? You both made it, you both got taken out of the water, he made it to a hospital. Why was that not enough? Why did his life have to end? You couldn't go on without him, you could go on, you were supposed to run off together.

“Mrs. Jeon?”

How could they ask you such a thing? You weren't going to kill the one you loved, who would do that? Surely there was something they could do, Jungkook would pull through, he was going to come back to you and they would have to, they were doctors afterall, if they couldn't save Jungkook then who could they save?

You suddenly felt faint, and all you heard Taehyung and Jimin yelling your name.

Where am I?

That was your first thought as you floated through the bright void you found yourself in. It wasn't like that for long, morphing into what seemed to be Jungkook’s hospital room.

“Hey darling,” hearing his voice made your knees buckle again. You turned and ran toward him, he was awake and smiling, you jumped into his arms and he hugged you tightly.

“What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here,” you were confused.

“What do you mean? We're supposed to leave together?”

Your lover sighed, the pain in his eyes was something you hated seeing. “This is my stop darling, I won't be able to join you,” he explained, and you felt yourself break all over again, “Remember what I said in the water? You need to live, make each day count, and one day we’ll meet again okay?” he held your face in his hands, “it’s okay to let me go, just don’t let them bury me okay, my body being in one place forever is not like me at all,” he wiped the tears streaming down your face.

“I’ll never let go, I will live for both of us Kook,” you bid farewell tearfully as his hospital room door opened. At the last second you felt him pull you, giving you one last kiss before what felt like a gust of wind pushed you out of the room.

And then you woke up.

You were still on the ground, Taehyung was holding you and the doctor was checking your pupils with a small light, “Are you okay? You scared us half to death, Yn!” Jimin sounded frustrated but relieved, you attempted to get up, but the doctor and Taehyung held you down, encouraging you to do so slowly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as they helped you up, Jimin handed you your crutches, and the doctor placed his hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay Mrs. Jeon, I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you better news, I’ll let you think about it and you can let one of the nurses know what you’d like, and they’ll let me know.”

Once he was gone you let Jimin and Taehyung know about what had happened, about your…dream? That’s what it had to have been. You told them what Jungkook told you and they were nothing but supportive, letting you know that whatever decision you made they’d be by your side. So you decided to let him go. It wasn’t the easiest decision, and the last few minutes of Jungkook’s life were the most painful you had ever felt in your short 18 years of life. You sobbed as they listened for a heartbeat or for any breathing. “Nurse, let it be on record, time of death is 20:25,” he put his supplies back into his coat pockets, “I’m very sorry for your loss Mrs. Jeon.”

Taehyung held you and Jimin rubbed your back, as he had his baby in his arms, you sobbed until your head hurt. The only good thing about this was that Yoongi did pull through, his right leg had to be amputated due to how broken it was and the damage the frostbite had done to it. It was a few more weeks before he was fully discharged, and thankfully a lot of first class passengers had come together to get accommodations for less fortunate survivors, Ms. Molly ended up finding Tae and Jimin, and you hid behind a pillar with Yoongi, who begged to not be seen by anyone you knew, whilst they spoke.

“Have any of you seen Yn? Or Jungkook?” she asked with a concerned look on her face. “We think they died in the water,” Taehyung sounded somber. You peeked to see the woman who had been so motherly to you, for a split second you thought she caught a glimpse of you.

“Oh…” the older woman’s voice shook, “well, I’ll give you this, I had set it aside for Jungkook, he was a wonderful young man and he deserved a better start here, you should be getting checks as well shortly with some compensation and Mr. Ismay has arranged for transportation for you and…anyone else who traveled with you,” she said a little louder. She whispered a last take care of her, before she walked away. They did end up getting $950 each, totalling a good $1900. You all set to travel up to northern New York, you wanted life away from the busy city for now, but you will ensure to live life to the fullest. For yourself and for Jungkook.

[auroracalisto]

good enough

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x gn!reader, 8k words tw: MAJOR MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE. divorce, cussing (lots of f bombs at some point), lots of arguing, angst, at one point, reader is said to have had depression before. the reader and bradley are both idiots and neither one of them can properly deal with shit. macho man rooster ends up letting fear gets the best of him and he literally ruins his own life bc of it LMAO, possibly ooc if you squint, possibly questionable actions when it comes to friends, this is dramatic as hell (and i loved every minute of it), self-doubt, angry characters, regret is strong here, rooster fears death and makes it a personality trait™ a/n: based on the song "good enough" by maisie peters. sorry for all of the tws, but i just wanted to try and mark all the boxes. but fr i love bradley. this is purely a play on the song i named, and is just a piece of fiction. a dramatic piece of fiction. like literally take rooster and place him in some angsty romance novel, but cut out the smut. that's this. i am also so sorry for the length of this. i just... started going and i couldn't stop. LMAO

Your heart lurched to your throat as you stood there, his head turned away from your lips—he was avoiding your touch. He didn’t have to say it for you to realize it.

You hesitantly smiled, backing down. Maybe he just had a bad day. It happened pretty often, so taking it personally wouldn’t have benefited you in any way.

He was your favorite person, and you knew you were his. You two were best friends until the end of time. That’s how it had been since even before you two got married—that’s how it would stay.

The television that sat in the living room had long since been turned off. The fan perched in the corner of the room silently hummed along, providing little relief to the California heat that plagued your home.

"Rooster," you began, rubbing the back of your neck. Sweat stuck to the palm of your hand, and you grimaced as you quickly wiped your hand off on the seat of your pants. "How was your day? I know it's been busy—"

"—we need to talk," he said, cutting you off.

He didn't even give you a chance to question things as he walked past you, sitting down on the sofa in your shared condominium. You blinked slowly at your husband, but you gave a small nod. Your feet moved on their own accord as you sat beside him. You placed a hand on his knee, and he only pulled himself away from you.

You swallowed thickly, nerves getting the best of you. Had you done something to offend him recently? Did something happen with Maverick again? You had thought they were doing well—the videos Natasha had sent you were proof enough of that. It warmed your heart to know that he was finally finding himself in this crazy world.

Maybe it was just hot. Yes, that’s it. The heat was getting to him. It had been getting to everyone on base, and at work. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was the same thing here.

"Bradley…?" You said nothing more than his name, watching him with nothing but pure adoration behind your eyes. He meant the world to you. There was nothing he could say or do to change this, even if he was avoiding you.

The man looked at anything but you. His dark brown eyes stared at the black television, and then they moved to the grey carpet just beneath his boot-clad feet.

You must have just vacuumed. He could see the indentations, and that’s what he chose to focus on as he searched for the right words to say. But they never came.

"I want a divorce," he said.

It was so simple. Those four words.

And just like that, your world came crashing around you.

Where was this coming from? Did you do something to upset him?

The words swirled around in your brain, repeating over and over until it hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your chest. He wants a divorce.

You sat on the edge of the black sofa, eyes fluttering shut as you took in a deep breath. Your hands rested in fists on top of your thighs as you wracked your mind for an explanation. You couldn't find one.

There was nothing that could justify whatever this was.

How long had he been thinking about this?

"Where… where is this coming from?" you asked. You just had to know.

"I don't want to talk about it. Just… please."

"What?" You looked up at him in disbelief. "You—you want to divorce me but you won't even give me a reason?" you asked. Your eyes burned as you held back your tears. You couldn't cry. Not now. If you cried that first tear, then surely, they would never stop.

"I have never asked you for anything, Y/n. Please, just say yes.”

"I don't understand where this is coming from, Bradley," you said, reaching forward to take ahold of his hand. "Please. Talk to me. I want to understand what's going on."

Rooster clenched his jaw, looking down at your hands. Your wedding band glinted in the soft glow of the light overhead. The beautiful piece glared at him as he fought to find the right words to say—but nothing he could say would make this better. Not now.

The words left him without a second thought.

"I don't love you."

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, no, no. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be telling you the truth right now. He did love you. He married you! Why would he ever ask you to marry him if he didn't love you?

Why would you plan your life together if he didn’t love you?

But even though you could create more and more questions in your mind, trying to placate every emotion coursing through your veins, nothing made sense.

You pulled your hand away as your tears finally began to fall. If he didn't love you, you wouldn't force him to be with you any more than he wanted.

Rooster inwardly grimaced, but he wasn’t about to let you see that. He needed to be strong—he needed to save face and keep on digging in the same grave he had started.

"Just… just tell me when."

"When what?"

"When did this happen? When did you fall out of love? I—I thought you loved me, Bradley. I love you."

He pursed his lips. He seemed to hesitate as he allowed his eyes to meet yours. Rooster's blood rushed to his ears, and his fingers itched to grab onto something. To grab onto you. But he couldn’t. He couldn't even look at you properly when you looked so sad, but he forced himself to do so anyway. You deserved that, at least. You deserved to be looked at when he was ending the relationship you fought so hard to keep.

"I don't know. It just… happened."

He was lying. He had to be lying. There was no way he was being honest—he loves you. He loves you, and this was all just some bad dream. Some bad joke that Hangman put him up to. Maybe Fanboy was in on it, too. Surely, someone put him up to this. They had money in a bowl somewhere, waiting for your reaction so they would know who won. He’d whip out his phone soon and text them the result.

But the way he looked at you… you knew he was telling you the truth. He wanted a divorce. This was happening, whether you wanted it to or not. There was no cruel bet, no ulterior motive.

This was happening.

Every moment of the past three years pierced your brain—Bradley asking you out in the middle of the Hard Deck. Meeting his friends. Picking out your wedding rings. Becoming Y/n Bradshaw. The kisses you shared. The whispered conversations, the happy smiles, the—

He was your life. He is your life. You love him more than life itself.

But he loved you.

Loved. Past-tense.

He did love you. Something changed. What had changed?

You abruptly stood up, roughly wiping your tears away. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be near him right now. Your heart was far too heavy, weighed down by the immense burden of his confession.

"Alright," you said. "I… I won't force you to stay with me. I would never do that to you, Bradley. I would… I would never, ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You held back a sob, fists balled at your sides. “We can get a divorce."

Relief spread across his face. He couldn't smile, though. This ended up being a lot harder than he expected it to be.

"Thank you," he said. He stood up, towering over you like usual. "I appreciate it."

You gave a curt nod, averting your gaze. Your tongue poked out, nervously wetting your lips as you cleared your throat. He appreciated it.

Were you just a joke to him?

"I will… I will make arrangements. I will leave by next week."

"What? You don't have to do that. There's no rush—"

"—I'll leave by next week," you cut him off, no longer looking at him.

What was he doing? You didn’t need this. You didn’t need him. As you took a step forward, the tears began to fall. Your husband forced himself to stay put as you rushed off to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

You found little comfort in the blankets that now surrounded you, tears wetting the pillow on which you rested your head night after night. You found little comfort in the place you spent with your husband, time after time, lamenting how much you loved each other. Planning the future of your life—of your family. Of your relationship that should have only grown in love.

The memories of this bed burned in the back of your mind. You could hardly breathe as the sobs plowed through your body.

This wasn’t fair.

This couldn’t be real.

Rooster slowly sat back down, burying his face in his hands. His elbows dug into his thighs, a choked sob catching in the back of his throat. He couldn’t believe he allowed himself to say that to you. It was far from the truth. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

This was for the best.

This would keep you safe.

As the sun peered through the grey curtains, setting just beyond the horizon, Rooster stood up. He wiped his tears away, instantly hardening. He had done this time and time again. He would hide, folding back into himself like a metal chair—he’d be there for people when he was needed, but he would be just out of the way until then. He wouldn’t bother you any longer than he needed to.

This was for the best—you wouldn’t have to live your life wondering what could have been.

If he died, that was that. You would move on, and he could rest peacefully in the afterlife.

His father hadn’t ever given his mother a chance to do something like that. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake.

Three years had passed.

Three, long and grueling years had inched by, taking your misery along with you. The New Year would pass over and over, and the only thing you would write on your resolution list was: Move on.

But you never could. That list ended up in the garbage only weeks after drafting it up.

How could you when the love of your life left as he did? How could you when you knew he was the only thing that kept you going, even if you were hundreds of miles away?

They would never say it out loud, but your friends never quite said anything about why he divorced you—why he fell out of love. But why would he tell them something like that? Rooster generally kept to himself. It wasn't something that he would have been very honest about, to begin with.

You knew they knew something more, but they never said anything. You never expected them to, either. They were your friends as much as they were his, and they had been his friend for far longer. You couldn't blame them. Whatever they knew—that was his business. But you kept silent, allowing yourself to wallow in self-pity for more than you should have.

But just like you couldn't blame them for keeping his secrets… who could blame you?

You had your own life before Rooster, yes, you did. You didn’t depend on him. You were independent, and you had your own interests and everything. You didn’t need him. But with his confession, it was as if everything you had ever known had been tossed out of the window of a speeding car in an instant, shattering against the run-down pavement. Pieces flew everywhere—you'd never be able to find them again, let alone put them back together.

You'd never have enough glue for something like that.

You would never be able to repair the gaping hole that was in your heart.

And you knew it was silly. You shouldn’t have ever let yourself trust someone so completely. But you never thought something like that would happen. Rooster was so easy to love.

He was such a happy person—he exuded confidence. He was the epitome of an amazing human being. And yet, he still fell out of love with you.

You never believed someone could just fall out of love so easily.

So, instead of remaining in the very place you felt like you were sinking in, you did what you thought was best. You packed your things and moved to Virginia. At least there, you'd be far enough away that he'd never find you. The mileage did little to comfort you, but it was something.

At least here, you felt like you could breathe.

Changing from the west coast to the east coast was drastic—but you adapted. You had to. You couldn't continue living in the very place that was threatening you at every given minute. You couldn’t continue on in a place where at every corner, something reminded you of him. It was driving you into a familiar depression—one that you had known before Rooster, and one that you would now know after Rooster.

When you left, Phoenix was devastated. Other than Bob, you were her closest friend. She never stopped talking to you—she never stopped being friends with you, even when you moved across the country. When Phoenix asked you to come in to visit, you hesitated. But then she promised you that Rooster wouldn't be there. That he would be visiting some family he had up north—his girlfriend's family. He would be using this free time to get to know them better.

You wouldn't say you were happy for him. Hell, that was far from the truth. Despite the fact you no longer wore your ring on your finger, it was always on a chain around your neck. Your heart still beats for him, no matter how many times you had tried to move on. And you did it all. You tried everything that Google said to do. One night stands, going out with strangers, having people set you up, hell, you even tried therapy. But it never worked.

Why would it? Rooster was the love of your life. He was the one you had seen yourself dying with—he was the one you wanted to grow old with. And he didn't want that in you. He didn't see the same things.

He didn’t see your relationship as a rising sun just beyond the mountain tops. He was already there with the setting sun, disappearing beyond the horizon. He had been there, at the end of your relationship, far before you even had a chance to find the middle. He had made peace with the end. You couldn’t even find peace in the beginning.

After much pestering and a FaceTime call from both Phoenix and Bob, you were convinced to join them back in California for a week. But your only condition was that Phoenix would be paying half for your plane ticket. She agreed in a heartbeat.

So that's why you stood here now, in front of the old dormitory in which you used to visit your friends in. You had already been to the hotel you'd be staying at, and you took a taxi to the base.

The grey building towered over you, making you feel far smaller than you actually were. Memories sat behind those walls, waiting for you to relive them, even if you didn’t want to.

It only took one text message to Natasha before she came barreling down the sidewalk, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. Bob was not far behind, and Hangman was taking his sweet ole time. You didn't know he'd be around, but you felt better knowing he was—you had been close before Rooster sent in the papers. He helped you pack and get your things to Virginia.

You hugged Phoenix tightly, smiling up at her.

"It's been too long!" she nearly shouted, excitement running through her body. As she pulled away, Bob pulled you into a hug. He greeted you as he had so many times, with a hug and a simple ‘hello.’

Last but not least, Hangman sent you a smile. He pulled you into a hug, despite the fact he used to be one of the last people you would expect it from. You melted into the hug, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"It's… it's good to be back. I'm glad to see you guys."

"Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy are already at the bar. Said they'd just meet us there. You ready?" Phoenix grinned.

You were as ready as you would ever be. You gave a small nod to your friend, and before you knew it, you were on your way to the very place you met your ex-husband. The Hard Deck.

It was suffocating, standing in that corner all alone. Your friends played pool, and you watched as the different colored balls sunk into the pockets that lined the edge. Hangman stood off to the side, beating some stranger in darts.

Rooster had always been good at that.

Lost in your mind like you had been so many times before, the sound of a glass falling at the bar made you jump.

And then you saw him. Your own glass slipped through your fingertips, crashing onto the floor. Shards littered the wood floor. Phoenix yelped your name in surprise, coming to your side immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, placing a hand on your arm to try and comfort you. You continued to stare, and she eventually looked in the direction of your gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as she tried to find something to say.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near you.

And he was looking right at you.

"Y/n, it's okay, he's not—"

You pulled your arm away from Phoenix, taking a couple of steps back before you took off running in the direction of the restrooms. It was as good of a hiding spot as anywhere, and you'd be able to collect yourself before going back out there. You couldn’t possibly run past him—he’d stop you. Or at least, try to follow you. Phoenix would make him leave. Surely, she wouldn't just let him stay.

You locked yourself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet seat. You took in a deep, releasing a shaky breath as tears clouded your vision. A hand pressed to your mouth, elbows digging into the meat of your thighs as you tried to keep yourself calm.

This wasn't happening! She promised he wasn't here. Why would she lie?

Maybe she didn't know.

The bright light in the bathroom was far too much.

The dripping water from the sink struck the porcelain—plip, plip, plip.

The noise from the bar was deafening as you sat there, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Loud voices echoed through the building, striking your ears in an instant. But the more you cried, the more your sobs became the only thing you heard.

It had been ages since you cried over him, so why now? Why were you so triggered by just seeing him?

You tried to calm yourself down but to no avail.

You loved him. You love him. You never stopped. You couldn't just stop.

You tried so hard. You spent years trying to forget the man who ripped your heart in two with four simple words.

But the universe had a funny way of working. It seemed to work against you in every way possible, no matter what.

You could never win.

You would never win.

No matter what, you were never good enough.

You hadn't been good enough in school. You weren't good enough at work. And you hadn't been good enough for Rooster, even when you were married. You weren't good enough for him, now, either.

There was a knock at the bathroom door before you heard it creak open. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to keep quiet, choked sobs caught in your chest.

Worn shoes popped up underneath the stall door you found refuge in. Those same damn shoes you bought him once for Christmas, four years ago. He had been so excited—they were almost the exact same pair his mother had bought him one year for his birthday. His father's favorite brand—his favorite style of shoe.

God, you searched everywhere for those damn shoes.

And he kept them.

Silence enveloped the bathroom, save for your stifled sobs. You rested your shoulder against the old paneled walls, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore him. But he knew you were there. It was far too late, now.

Rooster stood there, fist raised to knock on the stall door. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. What would he even say? What would have been good enough?

Three years had come and gone without you. Three long years in which he felt as if he was drowning, just existing. He would have been better off launching himself into that ocean, the same as his father. His wedding band was stuffed away in some kind of pocket, always near him or on his person in some way. He tried to get over you—one-night stands, blind dates, even going as far as asking Hangman to find him a girl.

It worked, for a while.

He started dating Kristie—a sweet woman who worked as a nurse on base. But she saw right through him. She knew who he was, and what was going on in that head of his.

She wasn't mad—a bit disappointed, yes, but it didn't stop her from breaking up with him and canceling their planned vacation up north together.

She wasn’t you. She would never be you.

And he didn’t think he would ever see you again.

Rooster found himself in the middle of the Hard Deck, never once expecting you to be there. None of the Dagger Squad had said anything about you. He didn't know you were even going to be in town.

He felt like he couldn't breathe when he laid eyes on you.

The yellow lighting cast a soft glow on your skin. You were beautiful. You had always been beautiful, but damn, you looked even more beautiful now. Maybe it was just the years that had passed him by.

The walls of his small corner of the world couldn’t fall on him sooner.

The glass that crunched under your shoes became the only thing he heard until he watched as you ran back into the hallway.

In a split second, Hangman was beside him, obviously pissed.

"What the hell, man? Why aren't you with Kristie?"

"She broke it off."

Hangman clenched his jaw. He couldn't believe this was happening, but then again, Rooster had his head far up his ass more often than not. Hangman punched him in the arm, just enough for it to hurt.

"You need to leave," he said, watching as Rooster recoiled in pain.

"What?" Rooster looked at him in surprise. "No."

"Yes!" he exclaimed. Was this idiot really that much of an asshole?

This time, Phoenix spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. "We promised you wouldn't be here. You're supposed to be up north. You're supposed to be far away from here!"

"You promised?" Rooster stared her down.

"Well, yeah, you asshole! You broke their heart. They didn't even want to come here in the first place. God, I should've just gone to see them instead of dragging them out here," Phoenix groaned, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand.

Rooster hesitantly took a step forward.

"Rooster, get out," Hangman said, voice low.

He shook his head. He needed to talk to you.

"Rooster!"

He broke out into a run, and before Hangman could follow, Phoenix grabbed his arm.

"What the hell?" he stared at her in disbelief.

"Just let it happen," she said.

"Let what happen? Watch Y/n get their heart stepped on all over again?"

"Just… just let it happen."

Phoenix would wait for you to berate her, later. But for now, she could only wish her friends would try to make up. She could only wish that Rooster would gain a pair and grow up. Her heart ached for you as she watched Rooster run back to the bathrooms, knowing that she couldn’t ever take the pain away from you. The only one who could do that was Rooster, himself, and even then, she wasn’t sure if that would happen.

And now, he found himself standing there, the silence deafening in the small space. The light was bright in the enclosure—brighter than he remembered. His hand was still hovering, his arm growing heavy as he debated on knocking.

Should he just leave? Should he do as Hangman said and walk out? But he couldn't just leave. Not now. Not when he knew he made the biggest mistake of his life, telling you all that bullshit.

You used your sleeves to wipe your tears away as you shakily got to your feet. Your fingers struggled to even unlock the stall door, but when you did, you swung it open. Rooster had to back up just to avoid being hit with the metal.

The two of you just stood there, bright light casting shadows onto the old tile floor. Not a word was said as Rooster stared at you.

You were exactly as he remembered, if not better. You had changed your hair since the last time he saw you. He kept the mustache, and his hair was still cut the same. You kept the same style and the same makeup (or lack thereof).

You still looked at him the same… even if it quickly changed into one of anger.

You were still so beautiful.

His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to talk to you, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to you. Nothing he could say would make things better.

He was such an idiot.

You stepped forward, walking to the stark white sink. You grabbed a few paper towels and wet them before carefully wiping the remnants of your tears. You stared at your reflection in the rounded mirror, your lip caught between your teeth as you hiccuped.

"Y/n?" Rooster tentatively began. He raised a hand to touch your shoulder.

You immediately moved away from his touch, glaring in his direction.

His fist clenched beside him as he watched you.

You tossed the paper towels in the trash and pushed past him, quickly leaving the bathroom.

"Y/n," he repeated.

As you walked, he followed.

Your friends stood in their respective corner, knowing they should intervene. Yet they stayed, hoping that somehow, Rooster would fix his fuck up. They couldn’t keep watching the two of you fight some imaginary battle—they couldn’t watch the two of you wish your life away for something that was quite literally at the tips of your fingers.

Phoenix wasn't too sure if he'd be able to fix this. Hangman honestly wanted to hang a man.

You shoved the doors open, walking into the cool California night. It wasn’t like the cold in Virginia. Virginia’s winters were unforgiving—the snow that would fall would chill you to your very core. Virginia winters would put southern California to shame in an instant. At this very moment, you wished you were there, standing in the chilling wind, begging for some kind of relief—at least then, your body would become numb even if your mind was still running a mile a minute.

Nothing could have prepared you for what had transpired. Nothing could have prepared you for seeing the man you fought so hard to forget.

With no car, you continued walking. You'd call a taxi at some point. Right now, you just needed to breathe.

But you had yet to realize Rooster was still following you.

The man grabbed ahold of your wrist, making you stop in the middle of the damn parking lot. Cars and trucks alike littered the parking spots. A few people walked past you as they went into the bar, ignoring the tension that stood in the middle of it all.

You whipped around, jerking your arm away from him with wide eyes. "What's your fucking problem?!"

Rooster paused, body going rigid as he waited for you to continue.

You had never yelled at him, even when he asked for a divorce.

"Why the fuck are you even here? You're not supposed to be here! You have a fucking girlfriend. Get away from me. I don't ever want to see you again."

Tears sprung to your eyes once more. You tilted your head back, wishing they would just stop. The stars stared down at you, mocking you where you stood. The sky was so close, and yet so far away.

God, would this man ever make you stop crying?

"Y/n—"

"—just go away! I don't want you here!"

"Please," he began, "I need to talk to you. I need to apologize."

"Apologize?! Oh, that's rich! Just leave me alone. You did enough damage when you asked for a divorce. Just leave me alone."

"Y/n, please," he continued. "You… please just hear me out."

"I heard you out once, and it was the worst fucking time of my life," you said. "I'm not listening to you ever again."

You turned back around, set on leaving—this time a bit faster. But his words grounded you in your spot, heart leaping to your throat once more.

"It was a mistake!"

You stared at the gravel that crunched underneath your feet. You could feel your pulse rushing through your body, fast and unsteady.

Nothing could have prepared you for that.

"It was a mistake, Y/n," he said, his voice far quieter this time. "I never should have asked for a divorce. I never should have said anything. I should—I should have just—"

"—what, toughed it out? Let me realize you stopped loving me when you started cheating on me or some shit?"

His eyes widened in surprise.

"What? No. No, Y/n… I… I never should have said anything. I never stopped loving you."

What?

You couldn't breathe—your lungs constricted in your chest, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Your body burned as you looked up at the night sky, stars littering the vast ocean of darkness. They still mocked you, but this time, dark clouds rolled in. Perhaps the sky knew just how you felt. The moon cast a soft glow on everything in its path.

Tears blurred your vision once more.

He never stopped loving you.

You let out a sob, turning to face him.

"What?"

"I never stopped loving you," Rooster lamented. "I… still love you."

"Then… then… why?"

"I couldn't do it to you."

"What? Do what?"

"I couldn't die! I couldn't die and leave you a widow. I couldn't end up with the same fate my dad had, leaving you just the same as my mom," he said.

"Well you're not fucking dead, are you?!"

Rooster paused, lips parting to speak.

"You're not dead. You're standing right in front of me, telling me that the reason you fucking divorced me was because you didn't want me to be a widow?! I would have been less upset if you had fucking died!" You took in a deep breath, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You did not have to do that. You did not have to make me miserable. You did not have to make me feel like the one person who loved me was an entire lie!”

Rooster winced. Your words pierced his soul like a sharp bullet, ricocheting off the crevices of his very soul.

"Fuck off, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, fists clenched at your sides. "I never want to see you again."

"But Y/n—"

"—no! No, I'm over you, you bastard! I don't love you anymore. I haven't in years. You're still in love with me? That's great. Fucking deal with it. You deserve to feel the pain of not knowing. You deserve to lose yourself in everything you thought was yours.”

Bradley Bradshaw had never felt as if he wasn't good enough. When he was faced with adversity, he worked harder. When he felt bad about something, he did more to try and overcome that. He had never felt as if anything he did wasn't good enough. But in this very moment, he stood there, wondering how in the world he could have fucked up so badly.

He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough, for you. That much was evident as he watched you once again walk away from him, disappearing into the night.

His eyes fluttered shut and he held back his tears as he stood there, waiting for lightning to strike him where he stood. Surely, it'd be better than having to go back into the Hard Deck after a screaming match like that.

He deserved it.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch. He opened his eyes, head darting in the person's direction. Hangman watched him for a moment before he patted his back.

"You fucked up, man," he began, averting his gaze. "Now you've gotta fix it."

"But how?"

"For fucks sake, Rooster," he groaned. He ran a hand through his perfect hair, musing it from the stress of his friend. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought Rooster might actually be a pretty smart guy. This dude was dumber than a box of rocks, and this just proved it.

"They still love you, you know," Bob said, arms crossed over his chest. "We heard what they said, but they're just hurt. You really did a number on them."

He glanced over his shoulder. The Dagger Squad stood there, all watching him as he stood there, in the middle of the parking lot.

This… was all his fault.

Those four simple words should have never left his mouth. He should have been spending the last three years with you, not trying to forget you. Because if he were to have died in that time, it would have at least been with you and not with the overwhelming ghost of you haunting his every waking move. He could have at least left you behind knowing you were loved instead of wondering if he ever truly loved you at all.

Time passed slowly in the month it took you to finally calm down from the emotional rollercoaster Rooster had you on. You were back in your apartment, the east coast calling your name (even though the west coast screamed for your return; the sandy beaches and the salty water just weren’t the same, here).

Your heart ached—every romantic thing you saw made you want to cry. It all reminded you of your ex-husband, and now, there was no changing things. In your anger, you had told him you never wanted to see him again—that you didn't love him. You made sure he knew that when you left him standing in the middle of that damned parking lot.

What a lie that was.

But if he could tell lies, why couldn't you? Why couldn't you force him to live with the idea that you didn't love him, just the way he did that to you?

Regret became you.

You wondered if that’s how he felt all this time—regretful.

Did Rooster even have a bone in his body that was capable of feeling anything other than pride?

Maverick would know.

Did he know about all of this? He had been Rooster’s best man at the wedding. Surely, he knew something.

Your arm rested over your eyes, blocking out the sunlight that peaked through your curtains. Saturday mornings never got easier for you. Hell, no morning did. Getting up was a constant chore. You had already gotten ready for the morning, but you slipped right back into bed, not wanting to deal with the idea of being a live, somewhat functioning adult at the moment.

Your phone began to ring, loud and in your ear as you lay in bed, staring at the back of your arm. With a groan, you rolled over and picked it up.

Phoenix was calling you.

You answered after a moment of your fingers hovering over the bright buttons. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone.

"Hello?"

"Y/n? Hey! So, uh, quick thing, and I promise you I didn't know about it until Bagman just said something, but he gave Rooster your address."

Silence enveloped your bedroom as you processed what she had just said.

"What?!" You immediately sat up in your bed, gripping your phone with unforgiving strength. "What the hell!"

"I know," she continued, voice laced with worry—she didn’t know how you were going to take this. "I know, and I'm sorry. But, uh, he said that Rooster is probably gonna show up within the next hour or so. He caught the earliest flight out there."

"Why?"

"Why?" Natasha echoed. "Y/n, why do you think?"

You fell silent. You stared down at the blankets that pooled at your feet.

Day after day, you wondered if Rooster would show up, begging you to take him back. But the sun continued to set, day in and day out, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.

"Y/n, I know he's an asshole,” Natasha said. “I know he broke your heart. But… Rooster's been through a lot. He might not have realized how bad of an idea it was until he went through with it. He’s… he’s done nothing but regret it ever since.”

"I know he's been through a lot," you said, voice far quieter than it had been. "I know he has. But… but that's no excuse. We were married. I was his partner. He took that away… he took that all away.”

"There's no excuse for him," Phoenix said. "I’m not making one. You’re… you’re my very best friend. But if he shows up and you don't know what to do, you have two options. Turn him away, or… hear him out. Whatever you do, I’m here one hundred percent of the way.”

You swallowed thickly. Without saying anything else, you hung up the phone, tossing it onto your bed. You buried your face in your hands—it seemed to be the only thing you could do recently that would actually allow you to catch your breath.

And then, your doorbell rang.

That was far less than an hour.

The shrill ding of the bell resounded in your brain. You would have to get that changed to something less annoying.

Getting out of your bed and walking down the hallway was the easy part. It was opening the front door that made you want to die as your hand slowly grabbed onto the knob.

You can just turn him away. It'll be okay, you told yourself. He will leave if you want him to.

With much hesitation, you opened the door.

Rooster stood there, worried he had gotten the wrong door and Hangman had given him some shit directions. But as you appeared in the doorway, relief spread across his features. He was dressed in those same shoes you had given him. He wore a pair of jeans, and he wore one of those stupid Hawaiian shirts that he loved so much.

You still had the pink and yellow one you had stolen before you left him in the top left drawer of your dresser. It still smelled like Rooster… but the laundry detergent you had was the same exact one you had used when you were married to him.

Everything you owned reminded you of him.

"Y/n?"

"Bradley."

His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. He nervously wrung his hands together as his eyes looked anywhere but you. This wasn’t that confident, macho man you knew. This wasn’t Rooster.

This was Bradley Bradshaw, in the flesh.

His heart was on the line, and he could only hope that the universe would grant him one last wish—let you believe him. Let you understand him.

He would understand if you turned him away. He would leave, and he would never bother you again. But he hoped that you’d accept him for who he is—for everything he has been.

Again.

Even though it took him so long to realize his mistake. Even though he made so many mistakes just to find himself trying to take it all back.

Rooster never thought he was perfect, but hell. The universe really didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, did it?

"Listen, I know you said you didn't want to see me," he began. "But I can't… I can't keep doing this."

You stayed silent.

Bradley was a lot of things. Stupid, funny, a great, flaming ball of firey anxiety. And still, the love of your life, even now.

Nothing would ever stop that from happening, even if he shoved his hand in your chest, pulled out your heart, and crushed it right in front of you.

Even now, after all this time, you knew you loved him.

He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

"I love you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never stopped. I just… fucked up. God, Y/n, I fucked up so bad. I never should have asked you for a divorce. I never should have said any of that shit. I thought I was protecting you. But the only thing I ended up doing was hurting you more, and I never wanted that to happen.

"I love you, so much, Y/n. I never stopped. I… you are the love of my life. But… but even if I loved you, it wouldn't stop life from standing in the way. My dad died. He left my mom all alone. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't bear the thought of you suffering, all alone, wondering what the hell you could have done to make things different. I couldn't let you have the same fate as my mom."

You stared at him, hands gripping the door.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

"I… I know I should have."

"So why didn't you?"

"I had already made up my mind…"

And once Bradley Bradshaw made up his mind, that was that. Most of the time, anyway.

Silence enveloped the two of you once more. Birds chirped in the background, cars honking in the backed-up traffic on the interstate not too far from your home. Life was still going on, just like it always would. Life would continue to find a way, even if someone left it behind—even if someone felt as if their world was crashing to an end.

Three years ago, if Bradley Bradshaw had shown up at your door, telling you he had made a mistake, you would have believed him. But watching him as he stood at your door this very moment, you weren't sure. You had every right to slam the door in his face, burning the image of his scared self in the back of your mind. But as you stood here, hands dangling down by your thighs, you knew you couldn't.

Were you stupid for what you were about to do?

Maybe.

But so was Bradley.

"I've started seeing a therapist," Bradley spoke, breaking the silence. "He said it would be good for me to at least… try to tell you why."

"Why you left me?"

He gave a small nod. "Yes. And… he made me realize it never should have happened. It was my fault. It was never yours."

You rubbed your eyes out of frustration, unable to stop yourself from sniffling. A groan escaped you, and he frowned in response.

"Y/n, I… words can't even begin to describe how sorry I am. I can't take back what I said. I can't change the fact that I asked you for a divorce because I was terrified of dying and leaving you alone. But… but I can do this," he said, licking his lips as he watched you.

You tilted your head in confusion, not sure where he was going with this.

Time moved slowly—just as slowly as it had when your world came to a startling halt.

He suddenly held out his hand, locking eyes with you once more. Dark brown eyes peered into yours; those same brown eyes you used to watch until you fell asleep in his arms. Those same brown eyes you stared into when you first said, “I do.” Those same brown eyes you looked into when he asked you for a divorce.

"Hi," the man said, a small smile appearing on his mustache-clad lips. "I'm Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw."

Your eyes widened, your heart leaping to your chest once more, but not because you were scared to face him. But because you couldn't believe this was really happening.

He… was starting over.

You were starting over.

Hesitantly, you took his hand, firmly grasping it before you shook it.

"It's so nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw," you said. Your eyes were still red from your tears, but you began to smile, pushing down the pain and regret of the last three years. It wasn’t worth it. The utter buffoon standing in front of you was worth it. "I'm Y/n Bradshaw," you continued with a grin. "Quite a coincidence, huh?"

Bradley just smiled, tilting his head to the side. You had never changed your name. In fact, you stayed the same, despite the icy shield around your heart. Not that he could blame you.

You were his Y/n. The love of his life—the reason he continued on, and the reason he believed in love, despite the fear that sucked the rational thinking out of him.

Because even when death knocked at his door, he knew you would be there. You would be there, just like his mom was for his dad.

Nothing could change that.

Not the divorce, not his lie that lasted for years. Not the untimely “confession” that left the two of you reeling for each other.

Nothing could change how he felt for you.

And with one instant, you knew your world was mending itself. You'd have problems—that you were sure. You’d have to work on communication; on both sides. But as you moved out of the way for Rooster to come in, you knew it would be worth it.

Love, no matter how much it hurt, was worth it.

Good enough or not.

"Why don't you come in, Mr. Bradshaw? I think we have a lot to catch up on."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, taking ahold of your hand.

"Only if you'll have me."

"Of course, I will."

This was a start. A new start.

A good start.

You were both starting over. And although you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, a part of you was starting to realize that you may have always been good enough—sometimes, fear was stronger than anyone’s resolve. Fear could make even the bravest people pause; it could cause stupid decisions and brash opinions that change everything a person knows. Minds were a powerful tool that could hurt everyone in its path.

You lived it.

You were still living it.

But like any great thing, sometimes starting over is the best way to go. Sometimes, opening your heart back up is the only thing you can do to move on.

Those same brown eyes you fell in love with peered down at yours, and for once in the past three years, you finally felt at peace. You were good enough. You always had been.

And Bradley Bradshaw was a good man. A great man, even. But even great men can fall short. Even great men can make mistakes. It takes an even greater person to face those mistakes head-on, and an equally great person to forgive and continue on loving, even if they never stopped, to begin with.

[lorem-ipsum-2099]

I feel like it’s been long enough now but here are my unsolicited thoughts about Miguel O’Hara: Spider-Man 2099 Issue #1.

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD

Tw: mentions of past abuse

Alright, I’ll get the bad stuff out of the way first.

Are we seriously trying to redeem Conchata?? You know, the same woman who verbally abused Miguel his entire life, the raging narcissist who killed people in order to escape back to Nueva York solely to fake her death in front of her two sons for sympathy???? HOWEVER, that’s not nearly as bad as how ready Miguel is to receive her???? Like huh????

(I know comparing the newest release to the first cancelled volume is not 100% valid BUT in this case it’s for comparing characterization)

And don’t even get me started about Conchata feeling bad about the horrible things she said to Miguel while zombified.

(Which is such a shame since this page is so pretty).

This seems like it’s gonna be a continuing plot line throughout this volume and I feel like it can go either way. Ideally (as awful as this sounds), Conchata responding negatively to Miguel failing to perform his responsibilities as Spider-Man would not only be most in character but would also allow Miguel a moment of growth. Giving an ab*ser a second chance is a noble but often misguided especially if it’s a parent. This could potentially be a moment of deeper commentary but based off Steve Orlando’s previous writing it’s hard to tell what direction the story will be taken.

Another thing that didn’t sit 100% right with me is some of the remaining Zeros to another planet?? (Especially when it’s heavily implied that Southey targeted disenfranchised non-white communities I may be reading too deep into it but still worth mentioning).

Although I will admit I enjoy the idea of the problem not being 100% solved immediately, sending the infected to another planet is kinda ridiculous even by comic book standards.

NOW the good stuff!!

The art direction was absolutely phenomenal! Each page is a piece of art and the colors are to die for!! And the fight scenes??? INCREDIBLE!! Especially Miguel’s one-on-on with The Zombie, their dialogue and action were incredible not to mention the gore level that is being established for this issue.

I also readily enjoyed the references to Carnage and The Hive throughout, makes me excited for their their reappearance. Honestly, the art and fight scenes are what saved this issue.

If I had to give a score I would say about 3.5/5, writing is questionable so far but I’m curious to see where it goes.

[theangelsheardyou]

Purpose! AU

Tags: major character death, depressed chuuya, hints of soukoku, hinted dissociative amnesia, decay of angels chuuya, fyodor pretty much wants chuuya to join him lol he's so whipped

I'm planning on drawing for this au too, but the quality of the pictures will be bad if I post them thru my phone. So here's my art account, posted straight from my drawing tablet, it's mostly mha art so far but I'm going to add hints of bsd in there too.

Art acc: @god-shit-girl-art

"Everything you have, and everything you've lost, I'll give it a purpose. Your past, your present, and your future, give it to me. And I will give you purpose."

Chuuya laid achingly amidst the softness around him. Linen sheets and silk pillowcases danced around him on his bed, and yet, he paid them no mind.

A heart can only take so much. But in his case, it seemed as if it had nothing left, nothing to give, nothing to own, nothing to fight for.

It had been 2 months since Dazai mysteriously died. He feels guilty for the fact that he cannot even remember how it happened. The death of his....someone....and his mind couldn't even grant him the decency to remember.

It was like that in cases of trauma. Just like the heart, the mind can only take so much before it breaks. Shattering like a mirror, some pieces will inevitably break apart, never to be seen again.

All he knows is that before he died, however he died, Dazai had used his Ability on Chuuya. And now that he was gone, so was his Ability. Chuuya no longer has the power of gravity manipulation, but for some odd reason, he wasn't mourning over it.

Whether Dazai had left him a note, a phrase, a word, or anything at all, he didn't know. It was all a part of the shattered mirror that was his mind. He couldn't even remember how he died, or if he even left him anything. Part of him wished, prayed, begged for this to all be some sort of scheme, one of Dazai's old tricks. He wasn't dead, no, this is just part of his plan. Somehow, some way he and the ADA will fix this mess, and they'll be together again. Someday, any day now.

....right?

The creak of a large wooden door could be heard from across the room, reminding Chuuya of where he was. He didn't bother getting up, or even looking in its direction. He laid there like a lifeless dog, after losing its owner.

"Nakahara Chuuya," came a voice. Deep and laced with an accent. Chuuya knew who it was, and was half-hoping to hear the sound of an ADA member, telling him to get up and that Dazai needed him for the next phase of his plan.

When Chuuya didn't reply, footsteps answered instead. The sound of hard leather soles against the expensive polished wood, it rang in his ears. He never bothered to really listen to them before.

"I have to admit, it was hard to find you," said the man, tall and slender, his shadow doing justice to his sleek and mysterious nature.

"This penthouse of yours, seems far too big for just one person. However I do believe you'd been visited many a night, correct?"

Asshole.

Did he just call Chuuya a whore?

Perhaps it was the thinly veiled insult, or how Chuuya just realized that a powerful enemy whose strength outweighed his own was now in his bedroom, but the ginger found the strength to sit back up. However slowly and groggily, with his hair a red-orange mess that framed his face and a dress shirt unbuttoned across his chest. His blue eyes seemed more grey, now that Fyodor looks at it. Were they always this dull?

"What do you want you anemic son of a bitch," Chuuya said, it wasn't a question.

Fyodor didn't answer. Instead the two stared at each other, one with eyes posing no threat and one with eyes that couldn't pose any even if it wanted to. In his mind, the Russian compared the man's blue-grey eyes to that of an empty glass. Nothing to give, nothing but potential.

"Dazai's dead." Chuuya said finally. His voice was hoarse and he could taste his thick saliva. How long had it been since he brushed his teeth or combed his hair? Was he wearing the same clothes he did that day 2 months ago? Or was it that night?

"I am aware, yes." Fyodor said, his voice and demeanor unwavering. What did this asshole want?

Chuuya looked down, facing his hands that laid aimlessly on his knees, legs folded, blankets ruffled and forgotten. There were wounds on them. Why were there wounds on them?

"However, I am not here for him."

Chuuya looked back at the dark-haired man, noticing a change in his attire. His coat that had once terrorized countless innocents in its dark tone was now white, with dark feathers around the collar. He could barely see what was inside, though.

"You look unwell." He said.

"Yeah? Great, thanks." Chuuya retorted sarcastically. "That's what I was goin' for, actually."

Fyodor chuckled at his comment, voice deep and alluring.

"You know, Chuuya, a man is only as great as his biggest weakness."

"Fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Fyodor maintained his smile, and began walking to the side of the room slowly, leather shoes rhythmically playing the wooden floor like a piano. Slow and steady, each note just like the last. Like it was leading up to something.

"It's a story of power. Lose and obtain. Give and take. Something must be lost in order for another to be found."

Fyodor took one of the floor-length curtains in one of his pale, slender hands. His illuminating lilac eyes remained focused on the redhead.

"You lost one of your biggest crutches," He said. "And in turn, one of your biggest weaknesses. Ride a bicycle with training wheels, and you'll never truly learn to ride without them."

"Wait a second," Chuuya finally gained the strength to speak again. "Are you talking about Dazai?"

Fyodor nodded, as if he was happy to hear Chuuya was on the right track.

"The man was a necessary loss. The final stepping stone to your metamorphosis. Because of him, and everyone who you've lost before, you now have the choice to become something greater."

"And what's that?" Chuuya scowled. "Another one of your chess pieces? Another pawn to your sick little game? Dazai is dead, you've won. What more could you possibly want from me?"

"Ah, you take the king away," Fyodor said, "but the queen still has all the power."

With that, his hand flew to the side, opening the curtains wide enough to see the world below it, the world outside. Cars and streetlights, people out on the town, the moon shining just as bright as before, as if nothing had changed.

"Even without your Ability, I believe you still have the potential to create more," He said, staring up into the stars.

Chuuya emerged from the darkness of his canopy bed, the first time he stood on his own two feet in ages. He walked to Fyodor's side, entranced by the light of the moon.

"Ah, how fitting for it to be a third quarter tonight." Fyodor said.

"A what?"

"A third quarter. Only half the moon is visible tonight, the other is shadowed in the dark. And yet, it's still just as beautiful, no?"

Fyodor faced Chuuya, albeit having to look down a little bit to look him in the eye.

"Everything you have, and everything you've lost, I'll give it a purpose. Join me, give me your past, your present and your future, trust it with me and I will give you a new purpose."

Fyodor stretched his hand out to Chuuya.

"Together, the moon will shine even brighter than before."

"What do you say, Chuuya Nakahara?"

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 8

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Tommy Miller x reader (secondary)

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, and both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

I wanna add we're really heavy on the birth/pregnancy, forced birth, choking, domestic violence, threats of hanging and murder. Can't say I didn't warning yuh (unless i missed a warning of course. then please let me know so i cant edit ASAP) Like this is a rough chapter, a lot of violence to a pregnant woman. but I wanna say right now...

The baby will not be harmed in anyway. Baby will be born healthy, and live and have a good life in both the main ending and alt ending.

5k words (sorry not sorry lol)

Also to clarify a few things I guess i didn't make clear enough in previous chapters!

Joel only 'guessed' that Tommy and LO slept together. He had suspicions but thought he could trust Tommy and his 'girlfriend'. When LO rushed to stop Joel from hurting Tommy, that was his 'evidence'. Joel was beating Tommy because he found out about Maria.

Joel only heard part of the conversation between Zach and Little One. Nick said way back in chapter 3 the wall are thinner than she thinks. He didn't know Lorenzo had any part of it, and because LO didn't rat him out, he never will.

Thats my bad for not being clear!

Can you catch the Superstore homage? (aka i rewatched two episodes just to take it line for line lol)

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

Month 3

No one warned you about morning sickness. 

You knew fuck all about sex before you came to Joel’s, just a thing or two from your friend back at the ranch and how to get a man off with your mouth or hands, but pregnancy and birth was next to nothing. You didn’t even know how pregnancy happened really, other than a penis in a vagina until you asked Tommy early on if you were going to get pregnant. After a very uncomfortable talk for both of you, Tommy explained that Joel told him he pulls out, so you should be good… Lorenzo said you can still get pregnant that way, but thinking back to the night Joel almost killed Tommy and you… Joel finished inside… the timing added up. 

Pregnancy and birth were entirely unknown to you, and you wished someone would just give you a heads up. Joel had a daughter and no doubt had been through at least once pregnancy, and Lorenzo had mentioned 4 of his 6 older sisters got pregnant before leaving the house… something about no sex education, men too old for them, and their religion not believing in birth control or abortion… but you didn’t know what half those words meant, and after Lorenzo mercilessly made fun of you for days about not knowing Joel’s song for you was actually a very famous song, you didn’t dare ask him about the words, or anything with pregnancy. You didn’t want to ask Joel either, not wanting to give away how terrified you were, not wanting him to think you didn’t want to… But you did! You did want this baby, you reminded yourself again and again and again, because Joel was good to you, Joel took care of you, Joel would care for this baby too. You’d be bound to him, and he’d never get tired of you this way, and he wouldn’t hurt the mother of his child, right?

The birth was something you tried not to think about.

So here you were, puking your gut out before you even had breakfast and Joel held your hair back.

“Shhh, shhhhhhh” he coo’d and you heaved, yellow bile and acid coming up from inside you since the little food in your stomach from dinner had been thrown up 5 minuets ago.

With a final spit into the toilet, you sink back and Joel wipes your mouth for you. “I think that’s it.” You mutter, and Joel carries you into your shared bedroom, laying you down with the care of an infant before kissing your forehead. 

“Don’t worry about breakfast, little one. I don’t need anything this morning.” He says before kissing your cheek. But you were worrying about breakfast, because you wanted it… but the only way you’d be getting food is if you made it. Tommy wasn’t here to care for you anymore. “I’ll be gone until the evening, what's for dinner?”

The thought of cooking, the thought of raw meats and the strong smells of spices made you want to vomit again. “I dunno…”

“I think a few of them chickens is ready to be butchered, you ever made chicken parmesan? We got that cheese I brought back yesterday, you could make something like that.”

You groan a bit, exhausted and tired despite being only 3 months in. You didn’t sleep at all last night, nightmares of the past and the future plaguing you. He knew that you didn’t sleep, you had told him… “Joel I can’t, the butchering, I feel so-”

“I’ll make Lorenzo do it.” He promises. “Chicken parmesan it is then?” He decided for you. What he didn’t understand is it wasn’t just butchering a few chickens. To make chicken parm you need chicken breasts, not the rest of it. You didn’t waste meat, so Lorenzo kills (you could do it on a normal day, but not with your heightened smell) then you pluck, clean, Lorenzo butchers, then you have to separate the different parts and put them into hygienic storage and take them to the freezer locker, then thoroughly clean yourself, all the tools and surfaces (and Lorenzo) to prevent illness. It would take hours. But Joel didn’t see that, he only ever saw the food at the end of his day.

“Okay” You agree reluctantly, and he begins kissing your neck and groping you, no doubt wanting a quicky before a long day of unspeakable violence. “Joel, please, I don’t feel good.” You beg him not to, but you learned in the past that this never got far.

His morning breath wasn’t helping anything as he tugged down your shorts. “I’ll be quick.”

You knew what that meant. Joel slid into you with no prep, no lubrication, and it burned. The steady rocking was the last thing you needed right now, and with his head buried in your neck, you covered your mouth as the nausea took over. You threw up, but like everything the last several months, you just swallowed it down again to deal with when Joel was gone. When he came inside (wasn’t he worried about you getting pregnant again?) you quickly pull up your pants and run to the bathroom, pushing past Lorenzo no doubt on his way to babysitting duties with you. 

As he watched you run past and heard the sounds of throwing up, Lorenzo caught Joel’s arm as he brushed past. “Peppermint or ginger. Find it, whatever form it's in. Oils, drops, whatever. If you can find the leaves or the root we can make it into a tea. Just find it, it’ll help her nausea.”

Month 4

“Okay Lorenzo, I got a question for you, and you can’t make fun of me.” You say as you cook, the swell of your belly beginning to show now.

“No guarantees.” He says, sitting his drink. How did he find so much alcohol?

“Fine. Okay… when Joel and I have sex-”

He visibly cringed. “Since when do we talk about our sex lives?” 

“Renzo.”

“Fine, go on. But remember I’m not exactly an expert on female anatomy.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay. Well I told you he always pulls out right? Um… ever since I told him im pregnant… he doesn’t.”

Lorenzo waits for you to continue, but you don’t. You think that’s it. “What the problem?”

You continue to avoid looking at him, stirring the soup. “Well.. what if I get pregnant again?”

He stares at you like he’s trying to make sense of your question before the recognition sets in. “OH!” But before he explains what he means… his face shifts… theres something sad in there, a hint of pain in his eyes you only saw once, the face he had as he looked at you in disgust while Joel carried you from the bedroom to the bath while you were covered head to toe in spit and cum and period blood… was it pity? “Jesus kid… No one really taught you anything, did they?”

“C’mon, just tell me.”

Scrubbing his face, he sighed. “No, you can’t get pregnant while your already pregnant.”

Oh. “Wait… really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Ah. Okay then.”

There was a long, long silence before he spoke again. “If you got any other question about, like… pregnancy and birth… I can try and answer.”

Joel had been trying to find a doctor, a midwife, something for you… but it was slim pickings in Wyoming. 

Five minuets later, you were squealing, covering your ears, but laughing. “Ew! What the hell is a mucus plug! You know what, I don’t wanna-”

“IT’S A PLUG FULL OF MUCUS IN YOUR VAGINA WHAT DO YOU THINK IT IS?!?!” He yells loud enough to get past your attempt at blocking your ears. 

“NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH!!! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” But you still could.

“Honestly in the last month or two all kinds of weird things are gonna come out of you including but not limited to a very slimey and weird looking baby.”

You gasp, feigning indignance. “How dare you insult my unborn child!”

“It ain’t personal, sweetheart. All babies look ugly as fuck as newborns. Now, let’s get back to the gritty details.”

With a squeal, you try to run away. “No! I know enough!” But you’re laughing. It felt like you were messing around with Zach back in your childhood home. 

“My sister Elaina lost like 4 teeth.”

“AAAHHHHH!”

Month 5

Joel had finally found a midwife of sorts. Well, technically, Jack did, as it was his cousin. Maura had been a nurse in the birthing wing a short time before everything went to shit and had been helping women deliver babies ever since. Initially, she told Jack to keep his mouth shut. She hated Joel and didn’t want a thing to do with him, but when no one else showed up and you were in your 5th month, she relented, purely for the sake of the innocent kidnapped girl. 

“Put the fucking gun away, Joel.” She said as she entered your room, grabbing the barrel in Joel’s hands and pointing it to the floor. “Point that shit at me again and I’m not helping your child bride.” She stared him down, head tilted up only slightly to reach his eyes. If she was intimidated by Joel, she wouldn’t

Joel glared at her, but he didn’t have many options. “If you hurt her-”

“From what I hear, you’re doing enough of that yourself. Now, you stand up against the wall and watch if you want to, but don’t interfere, and do not try to intimidate me, understood?”

You watched in awe as she stood her ground… It had been months before you had done anything of the sort against Joel, only standing up to him when Tommy’s life was in danger. Joel gave a curt nod and she turn to approach where you lay, sat up against some pillows.

A gentle smile was on her face, but it was clear she was here for business. Still, her confidence and certainty put you at ease.

“My name’s Maura, I’ll be helping deliver this baby.” She was beautiful, with long black hair and a light smattering of freckles on her face, but got straight to the point. It was clear she knew what she was doing, asking you questions you hadn’t even thought of yet and examining you. When she was done, she stood up, looking at you, not Joel. “It seems despite the circumstances-”

Joel tried to interrupt. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean”

But Maura ignored him, keeping your attention with her bright brown eyes. “Despite the circumstances, everything appears to be progressing naturally, theres no cause for concern as of right now. But you need to keep things low stress.” It was then she turned to glare at Joel, to emphasize her point.

Maura said she’d be staying near-by and Joel was paying her a hefty price for her services. When you’d go into labor, Joel was to send a man on horse to fetch her, preferably Jack, but she warned she would armed, and she’d be there shortly.

That night, Joel held you close as you discussed baby names. 

“How about Loretta? Like that singer you liked?”

Joel hums, none commital. “I always liked Dorothy, we could call her Dolly as a nickname. I know you like Dolly Parton” Joel had been teaching you about old country music, and you certainly had a few favorites. Not knowing many women in general, your pool of girl names was not strong so you drew from singers he’d mentioned. 

You scrunch up your nose a bit at that. “I like Dolly, I don’t like Dorothy.”

“It was my grandmas name, I’d really like to name our daughter after her.” His voice had that tone to it, the one that left little room to argue, but you tried to push past Dorothy.

“Maybe June? Like June Carter?” You knew how particle he was to Johnny Cash, but also... that was the name of the only friend you had before Tommy.

“That’s beautiful, little one, June it is.” He smiles into your skin, and you think you’ve won, when he says. “Dorothy June.” 

He had already decided, and there was no real option to argue or change his mind. You’d just call her Dolly, then.

You had one thing you really, really wanted for boy name, and you desperately hoped you could get it, but you couldn’t tell him why. You didn’t want any more kids so this was your only shot. You hadn’t even wanted this one, but as your stomach swelled with life, motherly love came with it and you decided you’d make the best of the situation. The child inside you was your number one priority. “Okay, boys? I really like Caleab… It’s my favorite boy name…” You didn’t have to tell him that was Zach’s middle name.

“I like it, bebita.” 

You got what you wanted. You knew Joel was hoping for a girl, so you figured he was less particular on the boy name. 

“Got any ideas for the middle name?” You ask him.

“Nothing in mind, really. I’m open…” He kisses your neck.  “Anything you want?”

You keep quiet. The name you wanted… he’d never go for.

Joel pulled you closer, nuzzling his face against you as he whispered. “Ah. I see.” You freeze. Tommy hadn’t been so much as alluded to since he barely made it out alive and you thought for sure Joel would have a fit, and you began to prepare yourself to feel a hand wrapped around your throat… But he tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed into your locks as he settled down for bed. “Caleb Thomas”

Month 6 

Lorenzo was getting on your fucking nerves today, and you were about to fling the frying pan, bubbling grease and all, at his face. 

“Will you shut up?”

“No, I’m not going to shut up because you are being fucking stupid!” Instead of his usual spot sitting at the kitchen table, he’s standing, arms crossed, in the doorway as you tried to get diner done. “I told you the first day, you are a dumb. Bitch.” he was drunk, three sheets to the wind and absolutely no filter.

“You have no fucking idea what I am! I am trying to fucking survive, Lorenzo, I am trying to keep myself and this baby-”

“You are playing housewife to a serial murder and a rapist!” He yells at you, clearly frustrated. “You are rewarding all the bad things he’s ever done you just give positive reinforcement-”

“Don’t fucking blame me! I’m not reinforcing the bad, I’m reinforcing the good!” You storm over to him, glaring Lorenzo down. “You have no fucking idea how bad things were! I used to dream about killing myself, about dying, about Joel finally snapping and doing it! I am doing the best in the conditions I have!”

“You could have left! You could have left with Zach and gone off with him for fucks sake!”

With a burst of anger you didn’t know was even in you anymore, you shove him, hard, causing the drunk to fall over. “You wanna know what he did last time I tried to run? He caught me within 10 minuets, dragged me back and chained me to this table-” You point at the table that you and Joel sit at most evenings now for diner. “And raped me in front of everyone, Lorenzo! Then he branded me and left me to be gang raped by all your little buddies here! And no one could stop him, not even Tommy! All Tommy could do is stand by and watch, and unchain me after Joel left before anyone could do anything more!”

Lorenzo was not deterred. “That’s my fucking point!”

“If I leave and he catches me, I am dead!”

Scoffing, Lorenzo rolls his eyes from where he’s slumped against the floor. “Yeah, that’s why”

Unsure how much more you can take from him, you motion him to continue.

“You just don’t wanna admit you fell in love with your rapist.”

That was enough. You begin to walk away from him, but he follows after you. 

“What about when you give birth, huh? What kind of father is he going to be? Are you going to stand by while he beats your kids?”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, still walking away. 

“And what if you have a daughter? You just gonna let him molest her like your dad-”

You wipe around so fast you don’t even have time to blink. “No, Joel isn’t like that.” 

Lorenzo laughs at you, cruel and loud. “You are 20 years younger than him, he raped you! You really think he’s above-”

“YES! He will not hurt her like that!”

“And if you have a son? Do you really wanna raise a man like Joel? The kind of man who beats and rapes innocent girls?”

Tears prickle at your eyes now, a terrible tightness in your chest bubbling with stomach bile. “N-no, that’s not gonna happen, I won’t let-”

“Oh, because you’ve had so much choice the last year, havn’t you. Sooooo much control.”

“I won’t.” You shake your head vigorously. “I won’t let anything happen to my baby, Joel won’t hurt them.”

“So, say he doesn't. You really gonna raise a kid here? Half the men here would’ve raped you, given the chance! You really think your child is safe here?”

You can’t argue with him when he’s right. But he doesn’t get it. Joel is good now, Joel protects you, Joel will protect the baby… Joel is gentle now… soft, kind… he thinks of you, he sings you songs… he plays music for you, he’ll be a good dad… You’ll be okay…

You shut down, going into autopilot. You don’t look at Lorenzo as you walk back to the kitchen to finish frying the chicken. Joel would be home soon.

Month 7

“JACK! GET MAURA!” Joel shouts as you groan on the bed, the tight contractions hurting.

“Joel, it hurts!” You call for him, and in a flash Joel is at your bedside, letting you squeeze his hand. 

“I know, little one, I know…” He pets your hair, having flashbacks to Sarah’s birth…. He wanted another girl so bad, but god, he just wanted a healthy baby and for his girl to make it out alive. Birth was dangerous in modern medicine, nonetheless a post-apocalyptic shitstorm. 

Lorenzo stood in the doorway, biting his nails. “You’re not due for another 8 weeks!”

Grunting through the pain, you let a rare bout of sarcasm slip. “Oh yeah, that’s right, never mind.”

“Could be false labor, you know? That’s called Braxton-Hicks contractions?” Lorenzo looked more nervous than you.

Joel ignored him. “It’s gonna be okay, Maura’s on her way and I think even out here 32 weeks is gonna be okay.” Joel wasn’t entirely sure about his own words. 32 weeks meant a premature baby, and pre-mature usually meant NICU… but there was no NICU to go to… if the babies lungs were under developed or anything like that, there were no options. 

Lorenzo was chewing through his nails enough to draw blood. “Or maybe it’s Braxton-Hicks”

At that, Joel finally acknowledges Lorenzo. “Okay, we get it, you know the term Braxton-Hicks, we’re all very impressed.”

“AHHHHHHH” You yell, wishing to get there was something for the pain.

Lorenzo wouldn’t shut up. “Okay, contractions are getting longer, that means your in active labor?”

“Her water hasn’t broke yet!” 

“Is she dilated?”

“Does it look like her pants are off to you?”

“Well check!”

“I don’t know how to tell! Weren’t you bragging last month you helped your sister give birth in a Walmart?”

“That doesn’t mean I know how to check if she’s dilated!”

“You know more than me!”

“I’m not sticking my fucking face between legs!”

“Oh, because you’re gay you’re suddenly scared of vagina’s?”

“What are you talking about?”

“So you’d rather let her just die?”

“DIE? Joel she’s not gonna die because I’m not looking at her fucking cu-”

“GUYS” you shout, causing both to turn and look at you. “The contractions stopped.”

There’s a moment of silence before Lorenzo speaks. “Oh. Huh. That’s uhhh… Braxton-Hicks I guess. False labor.”

As Joel kissed you that night, sex was the last thing you wanted, but you knew there was no point in fighting it.

Joel sucked on your throat, already bruised with dark marks from the night before, now sore and aching with new licks and bites, his hands roaming to expanse of skin presented before him. Gripping, feeling, pinching, tugging, some things felt good, some hurt, but that didn’t matter. He’d get you off, he always did, at night anyway, but you knew sometimes he just liked to feel you, feel what he owned.  The pain is mine. Your cries are mine, your cunt is mine. And if you bleed? Your blood is mine.

Your belly round and swollen with child, he could not hardly keep his hand off it, every time his hand traveled to explore, it quickly found itself returning to its home, never wanting to miss a kick. He slithered down, nestling his face between your legs and devouring your pussy the way he did your neck, the way he did every piece of you, body and soul and until there was nothing left but this subservient version of you, weak and obedient to his hands. He lapped you up, skilled tongue exploring through your folds only pausing to nibble at the soft skin of your thighs or kiss the round stomach above him. He felt extra possessive today, a desperate, anxious way about him as he devoured you so hungrily you wondered if he intended to eat you, swallow you whole to keep you with him forever; a communion, and you were the eucharist, a matrimony of cannibalism. 

You wanted to tug at his hair, you wanted to entangle yourself in him but your belly was in the way, so you simply laid back and enjoyed as he tongue fucked you, prodding at your entrance, his hands on the globe where your child waits to be born.

“Fuck, Joel, need you, need to cum, please.”

You beg for him, plead, and he devours. Joel knows you love when his perfect, plus lips such at your mound and your clit with long fingers fingering into you, and you yelp when they curl up and hit that spot inside you. “Keep moaning, little one, let me hear you.”

You obliged. Sometimes you wondered how sick everyone in the house was of hearing you, but they weren’t the ones you needed to please; pleasing Joel kept you alive.

“I need you inside me, please” Nudging him with your leg as you cry for his cock. “Joel, I gotta have you inside me, I need to cum on your cock, please? Please, Joel-”

A wet, sloppy sound as he detached from you, and his eyes looked just as hungry as he acted while he crawled up. “You beg so pretty, little one, such a pretty little cock whore.”

But you didn’t have time for his talking, you needed him inside you, now; the hormones of the pregnancy had a mind of their own. You take a chance and push him down, watching Joel smile as you straddle his waist. “God, I just- just need you.”

“The take me, little one, take me” 

You cry out as you sink down onto him, feeling your cunt split on him. “Fuuuck!” Sobbing, you take him fully and begin to fuck yourself on him.

“Just like that, pretty girl, fuck, taking me so well, gonna have you all stretched out to have this baby, huh? Gonna give me a child, little girl? A baby of our own? Fuck, fuck you look so pretty like this, swollen with my child, stretching your stomach as I stretch your cunt, fucking perfect, my perfect wife.”

Wife.

Wife.

Wife?!

You knew Joel was delusional… but fuck, Lorenzo was right… you were playing house wife. Joel thought of you as his wife… 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, again, and again, keep you constantly knocked up, make our happy little family, you and me and a dozen little kids running around, FUCK, our family, our family.”

You continued the pace, you couldn’t falter, you couldn’t slow down, you couldn’t hesitate; you couldn’t give any sort of reason for him to think you didn’t want this…

But it suddenly struck you

You were trapped. Joel trapped you with a baby, knowing you’d need him to protect it, knowing you’d never leave your child… and now he was going to keep you pregnant. You could never leave with 5,6,7 kids, it would be impossible. 

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock little one, just little that…” Joel reached out to touch you, roughly manhandling your tits that were swollen and engorged.

You begin to cry, but that wouldn’t give away anything for Joel; he fucking loved that shit.

One hand on your breast, one on your clit. “Cry on my cock, baby girl, cry when you cum.”

You did, you sobbed as you came, your body betraying the horrors you felt at his hands.

Month 8

“Hey Joel? Can I talk to you about something?”

You had to do it. You had to. And it had to be now. You two had fucked less than half an hour ago and he was currently eating your food, humming contently. He was always lovey-dovey after sex, and was always much happier after food… The pair didn’t line up often, so now was your chance. 

“What’s on your mind, little one? Nervous about being a mother? You’ll be a great mom; I just know it.” He smiled at you with puppy dog eyes, looking up from his plate, and you couldn’t help smiling back, not when he showered you with compliments.

“Well… you’ve said before you wanted lots of kids… but we… well this little baby was an accident.”

“A miracle, not an accident.” Joel corrected you. You didn’t see how conceiving a child the night he was threatening to blow your brains onto a wall for sleeping with his brother if you didn’t shoot said-baby’s uncle was a miracle… but you digress

“Right. Well… we never really talked about more kids… and although I’m over the moon about this baby, I did initially not want to have it.” Joel’s face began to darken, but you powered through. “Maybe we could see how we feel about one kid after a few years before thinking about-”

Joel slammed down his silverware. “What are you trying to say.”

But you freeze. This was a bad idea, you needed to placate immediately, you needed to calm him down. “N-nothing, Joel, just thinking out loud.”

He stood up, a deadly, blank stare on his face, so far removed from the adoration as he bestowed kisses on your ever-growing belly. Joel walked around the table, standing behind you and placing firm hands on your shaking shoulders, leaning into your ear. 

“You say’n you don’t want my kids? Don’t wanna be their mama? You don’t wanna be my wife?”

“No, no that’s not-” But you don’t get a chance to finish, his hand is wrapped around your throat and insane strength pulling you up and out of the chair, the wooden furniture toppled to the side in a loud clatter. He slams the back of your head against the drywall, you’re toes barely touch the ground; struggling to breath, you claw at his hand, but he doesn’t even blink.

The panic begins to set it.

“YOU ARE NOT IN CHARGE! YOU DO NOT GET TO MAKE CHOICES!” He screams, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as a few men hesitantly gather, like vultures waiting on the next piece of deadmeat. You couldn’t see who, but it didn’t matter. Even the good ones couldn’t intervene.

Joel’s face was suddenly right in front of yours. “Everything you have, any freedom, any luxuries, any power you think you have is because I have given it to you.” Black spots appeared, your vision blurring, sinking into the unknown and god, did it feel sweet. Was it finally over? “I bought you, I own you, you have no rights! You are nothing! You are nothing but a toy for me to play with, a breeding bitch and you should be so lucky to sit at my table!”

He let go, but as you gasped for breath, Joel yanked at your hair and patched you across the room, not letting go of his grasp on you as you flung into the counter. What he didn’t know, what he could never understand was how the handle of the draw rammed into the brand on your side. Suddenly, all sense, all rational went out the window, and you were violently thrust back to last year as he burned his initials into your skin. The flashbacks were triggered, and the result was nothing short of hysteria. You cry out for the only person who would step in.

“TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMY!TOMMYYYY” You scream, the fact Tommy was miles away didn’t matter, nor did the fact this would only anger Joel more. This didn’t matter; you wanted him, no one but him, and all sense was knocked out of you.

Joel pulls you up by your hair and slaps you hard enough that you taste blood and screams at you to not say Tommy’s name, but you can’t stop, you scream and scream and scream for him to come save you and your baby, the precious little life inside you that has never done anything wrong. 

You fight and claw and panic, hysterics drowning out the one or two voices telling Joel to stop; who they belonged to, you couldn’t say. 

Joel stopped listening, and the voices grow louder as Joel drags you, kicking and screaming, outside; rope and a chair in his hand, your hair in the other, and Joel walked with long strides to a tree outside.

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

YEEEEEEESSSSHHHHHHHHHHH Cliiiiiff hanger, hanging from a cliiiiiiffff thats why he's caaaaallled, Cliff Hangers!

Who else used to watch Inbetween The Lions? Anyway.

Who wanna guess what happens!

Only two chapters left!

For the sake of credit, if you didn't find the superstore reference or dont watch the show, most of the dialogue between Joel and Lorenzo and LO was between Amy and Jonah from two birth related episodes of superstore

Also, Maura is named after my dear dear friend @maura-honey who although is not generally a fanfiction girlie, made a tumblr so she could read, like and reblog this series and always sends me such lovely messages <3

Reblogs are the best way to spread and support, but comments mean the world. I know not everyone likes to share dark content on their blog, but even a kind anon is such support!

for those who voted you dont like or hate or Lorenzo, I hope that doesn't mean you hate him as n he's a bad character. I got a comment on AO3 that said "i cant tell if i like lorenzo or not, but i like him in the story" which makes sense! His victim blaming is really fucking shitty.

no poll today, sorry!

MoonBanana said they think LO copes by lying to herself until she beleives it, what do y'all think? is she as delusional as joel?

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

[ruinconstellation]

Fic recs for The Hands of the Emperor

@rattyjol @wingedscribe @savrenim @far-sector @ariaste, and if you know an author’s tumblr handle and I haven’t yet tagged them, please do pass this along!

SPOIILERS AHEAD. Most of these contain spoilers for Artorin Damara's secret name, and some have other spoilers.

Trial by Fire by astrocryptographer. Rating: Teen and Up Audiences. No warnings. 4,040 words, 1/1 chapters. Relationship: Kip/HR.

Cliopher sayo Mdang trials as the Sun-on-Earth’s personal secretary. Incidentally, they learn that the taboo against eye contact has lifted, and that the one against touch has not.

Refraction by astrocryptographer. Rating: Teen and Up Audiences. No warnings. 9,249 words, 1/1 chapters. Relationship: Kip/HR. 

“If each of my two natures, I told myself, could be housed in separate identities, life would be relieved of all that was unbearable.” -The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde In a lonely tower, a young man without a name mixes a potion out of an old alchemy book, and in the mirror Fitzroy Angursell looks back.

Hold on Forever by SunInGlory. Rating: Teen and Up Audiences. No warnings. 16,959 words, 2/2 chapters. Relationship: Kip/HR.

Kip hated the sense of desolation in the man's voice, the despair, the resignation at the foundering of the ship that was his ke'ea. No one should have to give up— “You could always stay here,” he offered. “No one would ever know.” The man’s head popped up in astonishment—and, for the first time since coming in through Saya Dorn's pantry, he looked right at Kip, directly into Kip's eyes. (in which the newly crowned Emperor keeps tumbling through to Saya Dorn’s house.)

In the Office of Friendship by astrocryptographer. Rating: General Audiences. No warnings. 3,079 words, 1/1 chapters. Relationship: The Imperial Household. 

First Commander Omo suggested that his Radiancy retire, and that was bad enough, but then he just. Kept talking. Imperial Guardsman Elish was going to need a second vacation. If he survived this conversation.

Protocol One by astrocryptographer. Rating: Teen and Up Audiences. Warning: Major Character Death. 18,836 words, 4/4 chapters. Relationship: Kip & HR.

Protocol One: The Unexpected Death of the Lord Magus of Zunidh (the Last Emperor, the Lord of Rising Stars, the Sun-on-Earth, all ten thousand of his titles, his Radiancy, Cliopher’s dear friend)—how it is followed, and how it is not, and how the world somehow continues to turn.

Bloodstained Threnodies by astrocryptographer. Rating: Mature. Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings. 2,113 words, 1/1 chapters. Character: HR.

The Emperor of Astandalas died so that the Empire could live. The Empire in return sustained the Emperor with blood: a perfect, vicious symmetry which stabilized the magic of five worlds. We were never certain when precisely in our reign it could be said that we died. (The Emperor is a vampire.)

Arrest by astrocryptographer, complete series, 72,212 words, 2 works. The Arrest of Cliopher Mdang, rating: Teen and Up Audiences, no warnings, 69,381 words, 13/13 chapters. Acquittal, rating: General Audiences, 2,831 words, 1/1 chapters. Relationship: Kip & HR, the Imperial Household.

When the Last Emperor and Lord Magus of Zunidh declares Cliopher an enemy of the world, a threat to peace and prosperity, a Terror to rival those of the fallen Empire, what else can he do but live up to the legends? (or: the Moon Lady sets a curse on His Radiancy, causing him to hate Cliopher in an inverse of the love he bears. How can Cliopher break the curse?)

with a winged heart by celebros. Rating: Explicit. No warnings. 33,064 words, 6/6 chapters. Relationship: Kip/HR.

"Cliopher. Cliopher. Cliopher." I blink. It's Conju, standing with his hands on my shoulders, and I go to answer him and realize that I am already speaking, babbling, and Franzel is behind him, wringing his hands and looking near tears. I try to focus on what I'm saying, but it's like a stream, light and splashing past me, too quick to hold, not enough to catch, somehow, somehow –  (A few weeks before the start of the viceroyship ceremonies, Kip finds himself the unwitting recipient of a truth serum.)

Inner Guard by rattyjol. Rating: Teen and Up Audiences. No warnings. 903 words, 1/1 chapters. Character: Ludvic Omo.

His grandfather had liked to say that every piece of wood had something beautiful inside it, calm and quiescent like a wingfinger on a cold morning. It took a sharp knife and steady hands to bring it forth, but it took a carver’s eyes to show it the sun and let it fly.

Friday Keeps Coming Next by rattyjol, complete series, 44,495 words, 2 works. Friday Keeps Coming Next, rating: Teen and Up Audiences, no major warnings (temporary character death), 38,198 words, 10/10 chapters. Thursday Won't Ever End, rating: Teen and Up Audiences, no major warnings (again, temporary character death), 6,297 words, 1/1 chapters. Relationship: Kip & HR. 

On Cliopher's first day as imperial secretary, breaking the taboo of eye contact causes a perpetual time loop for Cliopher and His Radiancy. What could go wrong? 

The Virtue of Being True by electropeach. Rating: Teen and Up Audiences. No warnings. 15,685 words, 3/3 chapters. Relationship: Kip & HR, the Imperial Household.

"You're under an enchantment, Cliopher. The good news is that the protections his Radiancy has placed on you have shielded you; the bad news is that the protections that block the spell are also reflecting it, meaning that instead of you it affects everyone who comes near you. You may have noticed an unusual propensity for candor in your vicinity today?" (A reverse truth serum plot leads to Cliopher having a very strange day.)

The Ones We Call by Name by ketchupblood. Rating: General Audiences. No warnings. 7,222 words, 1/1 chapters. Relationship: the Imperial Household. 

He was the Emperor, the Sun-on-Earth, and the Lord of Ten Thousand Titles. For just a moment, he let himself hope that someone might dare to call him by name. Or: his Radiancy realizes that his personal secretary and the groom of his chamber are... friends.

Dispatches from the Junior Secretariat by wingedScribe. Rating: Teen and Up Audiences. No warnings. 62,321 words, 8/14 chapters (no cliffhangers). Relationship: the junior secretaries (Gaudy, Tully, Zaoul, Eldo, Iro, Iri), Kip & HR. 

Gaudy Vawen is leaving home to follow his uncle. Eldo Vardes is doing the same to defy his father. Zaoul wants to find the answers to questions only he is asking, and Tully wants to find problems only she can sort out. They collide in Solaara, where they find the Imperial Bureaucratic Service poised to aid the greatest transition in government since the Fall. And also, where they find themselves the somewhat-captive but very intrigued peanut gallery to the lives of both Cliopher Mdang and His Radiancy the Emperor. A retelling of parts of Hands of the Emperor through the the sometimes-comprehending, often-bemused, always-intrigued eyes of Gaudy, Tully, Zaoul, and Eldo as they grow and advance in the Service.

Epithalamion by oliviacirce. Rating: Explicit. No Warnings. 10,611 words, 1/1 chapters. Relationship: Kip/HR.

"Right," Zemius said. "So—when Dora asked His Serene and Radiant Holiness the Last Emperor if the regency ceremony was a wedding, it reminded me of something, and well, Kip, I don't think you're going to want to hear this, but the thing is—it was a wedding." (in which the Viceroyship ceremony was accidentally a wedding)

a buried and a burning flame by savrenim. Rating: Mature. No warnings. 16,538 words, 1/15 chapters. Relationship: Kip & HR.

Cliopher Mdang's hands were stained gold years before he came into the Emperor's service. (Or: the one where Kip went home after the Fall accompanied by Tor, a ghostly man, and returned to Solaara with golden soulmate marks on his arms.)

flies far, far home by nsmorig. Rating: General Audiences. No warnings. 5,576 words, 2/13 chapters. Relationship: Kip & HR. 

In Astandalas in the years before the Fall, far from home and desperately lonely, Kip makes a friend. If the Emperor can be a man without a soul then, logically, Kip can be friends with a soul without its associated man. (daemon au, albatross style)

Not a fic. A Fancy-Man and Foreign: A Case Study of Cliopher Mdang by Ariaste. Nonfiction meta, an analysis of the cultural byplay in The Hands of the Emperor. 9,909 words.

soon, they said, if not today by Ariaste. Rating: Teen and Up Audiences. No warnings. 44,417 words, 4/4 chapters. Relationship: Kip & HR.

Cliopher passes the Imperial exams on the first try. It changes everything. (In which Cliopher Mdang meets the Emperor two years after his reign begins.)

one for sorrow, two for joy by Ariaste. Rating: Teen and Up Audiences. No major warnings (warning: imprisonment). 35,528 words, 4/4 chapters.

The Emperors of Astandalas did not have daemons. Cliopher knew this could not, technically, be true. Thinking this thought, even in the quietest whisper in his deepest heart of hearts, was undeniably treason, but…. facts were facts: The Emperors of Astandalas, though worshipped as gods on earth, were each of them born a human being before they were apotheosized by the crown and by law and custom. Every human being had a soul; therefore, every human being had a daemon. So the Emperors of Astandalas must have had daemons. But by tradition and ritual and magic and taboo: The Emperors of Astandalas did not have daemons. (daemon au, manatura style)

hélouzithe, hélouzanth by nsmorig. Rating: Explicit. No warnings. 7,546 words, 1/1 chapters. 

In court’s long sleeves, the Astandalan greeting, gripping the forearms, might not involve any actual contact of skin, and Cliopher’s hands are holding his sleeves, but Cliopher is not in court’s long sleeves, and his fingertips spread across the curve of skin before the elbow.

Works containing At the Feet of the Sun spoilers that I haven't read yet but these authors are definitely skilled: 

dream only of stars and songs by electropeach, 70k words, 3 works, rating: T.

when every no turns into maybe by Ariaste, 30k words, 5/5 chapters, rating: T. 

Lastly: if you have any fic recs for HOTE, please add them to this post!

[agentmaineapologist]

So I ranked the top 10 rvb deaths (my opinion, not based on nothing but my tearducts):

1. The Director [I realized why he was doing what he did and the extent of just how much he missed his wife right as I got to his death scene, so I was bawling. I could write an essay on this man.]

2. Tex (Epsilon Unit) [it's just the power in the statement of epsilon's "I forget you." that really got to me]

3. Church (Epsilon) [obviously 🙄]

4. Doyle [entirely unexpected and very fucking painful]

5. Church (Alpha) [he died in denial. That will forever do emotional damage to me]

6. Loco [my boi ain't deserve that :( also unexpectedcus he seemed like a very major character]

7. Biff [the circumstance of his death, aka the fact that it wasn't meant to happen that way and the fact that he had a pregnant wife/gf (I can't remember) waiting for him

8. CT [she died at the hands of her friends because of a misunderstanding of which side was the bad guys. That's fucked up.]

9. Tex (Beta) [not too sad, but the way church said "... Tex?" at the end of s5, and the way he wouldn't believe she was dead during s6 was just. Ow.]

10. York [just for the longevity of it and how it continuously affected Carolina long after he had died.]

Thinking about watching them in reverse order so it goes from least sad to worst. Just might tbh

[senanatheskenana]

I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight

Genshin guys sacrificing themselves to save you. 

TW: major character death, gore, angst.

Kaeya

Kaeya laughs breathily as you pull his head onto your lap. His eyelids are so heavy but he keeps them open just enough to see you. A grin spreads over his face but you can see from his weepy eyes that he is in pain that you could never imagine. 

“I’ve made so many bad choices in life,“ he wheezes.

You look down at him and gently caress his bloodstained cheek, shaking your head, “No, no, no- Kaeya, you- everyone makes bad choices, it wont ever stop me-”

He cuts you off, coughing violently, blood and spit sputtering on his paling lips. “I hurt people, and I lie, and I never apologise”

You whimper, small tears pitter pattering onto his nose from yours. You don’t know what you can say to comfort him. Then you feel a cold hand clutch yours. It shakes as he brings it to his lips.

“But i got one thing right“ he kisses your knuckles, leaving prints of his lips in blood like lipstick, “And that’s enough for me“

And just like that the warmth in his face fades and the pressure around your fingers loosens. You are left mourning, unknowing of the redhaired man nearing you, too late to help you.

Diluc

“Please spare them,“ Diluc shouts from behind you, “They’re innocent! They have no collusion with me.”

He makes stern eye contact with you as if to say ‘don’t say a word’. The man beside you grips your should tightly, making you wince.

“Oh you mean to say that this... person has no link to the crimes? And therefore should not be executed?“ Dottore grins.

Diluc furrows his eyebrows at the horrid man before nodding.

“And in doing so you acknowledge that you are in fact the perpetrator of said crimes... And as such accept to take their place in execution?“ Oh he was having fun with this.

You squirm in his grip but it’s futile.

“And you promise to let them go if i do?“ he asks, eyes quickly glancing at you in concern.

“You have my word,“ the Doctor smirks. Did he really mean that, or was he simply playing with you both.

And like that you are pushed away, into the iron grip of two other fatui members as your lover marches quietly, unquiveringly, towards his awaiting death. 

You are made to watch and the redhead is forced to his knees, arms behind his back as a sword gently skims across his neck mockingly. His eyes close in acceptance but he still worries for you.

“I should not worry about the meddler, Dark Knight Hero. They mean nothing compared to two Ragnvindrs“

Diluc lets out a shaky sigh as he hears you struggling.

“Diluc please- don’t! I love you, please don’t do this for me“

But despite your howls, not a moment later the sword is pulled back before it lunges forward. It cuts your love’s head clean from his body and he falls messily to the ground.

Dottore laughs and plucks the head from the floor. 

“Leave them. They serve no other purpose nor entertainment.“

The Doctor takes his head but the body is left before you, seeping blood into the grass. And you cant find it in yourself to do anything but lay beside him, head on his chest, pretending that nothing had changed; he was fine and you were sleeping like just that morning.

Venti

Venti knew better that to steal the freedom of anyone. So how could you ever expect him to let you die. In his years, he’s never met anyone more deserving of life than you. To even think of you fading away while he persists was a crime to him. 

Which is why, even as you weakly beg him to stop trying, he still continues to throw as much of his life force into you. The divine glow that had once surrounded him grows faint but you feel your lungs begin to reconstruct and the blood start to seep back into your wounds. 

The moment ends suddenly when he collapses against you, wheezing against your chest, now pale and all too tired. He is cold when his shaky hand clasps yours. He tells you, through laboured breaths,

“You deserve to live... to be- to be free. I could no.... not live without you.“

“Please promise me you’ll... try to live without me, (Y/N)“

Albedo

Albedo can feel the skin on his bones flake away like slate as he falls to his knees in front of you. The other Albedo does the same, both afflicted with the same injuries. Both Albedos share an incredulous look at their wounds, coughing up blood. 

One is a golden colour.

Your Albedo clutters to the floor in a heap, turning weakly to face your legs, shaking as you stand there unmoving in shock. 

With no care for himself he asks, “Are you ok?” He knows the answer but he wants to assure himself that he’s done the right thing. 

You hastily shake your head, crashing to your knees, skin scraping agains the cold jagged rocks of the mountain. “No! No I’m not ok- You’re dying Albedo!”

You press a torn piece of fabric against the opening of the sword but he pushes your hands away, knowing it would only make the bleeding faster. He takes your hand.

“Please don’t cry. It’s no use... Just lay with me for a moment... Just a moment.“

You lay beside him, forehead against his, mindful of the hilt pressing agaisnt his chest. 

“Help’s gonna come, i promise.“ you sniffle, kissing his knuckles. They are bone white.

But no matter how long you both lay there no one comes. And you watch in horror as the humanity slips from Albedo’s body, leaving him nothing but a statue of chalk. 

When you are finally found, it was hard for people to believe that the statue had not always been there. It sickened you to believe that it would remain there forever.

Xiao

Everything had transpired so quickly in that small time. At one time you were fighting along side Liyue, and then the next you were tackled to the floor, an arrow narrowly missing your head. 

Xiao grunts and holds his side, still standing in front of you. Only now you notice the huge gash that slashed across his stomach. It oozed steadily, his once white shirt stained red. 

He didn’t even realise it at first.

“Xiao! Don’t try to be a hero! Please you’re hurt.“ you reason with him. But of course, Xiao does not welcome such sentiments.

He turns to look at you, perplexed. Had he really been this hurt? He hadn’t realised. He was too focused on you to feel the searing pain that oozed out oof his side. As if it had all happened suddenly, he slipped against the wall, still fighting to keep himself upright as he stared at you. 

You nodded to say you were ok, an answer to his unsaid question. You wished he was more worried about himself, but then again Xiao was never very keen on the idea of his health anyway.

So in the most Xiao way he pushes himself up to continue the fight- to charge his spear through the imposing enemies that were closing in on you both.

He puts on a stoic face for you but you both know that, with the injuries he has, he wont last much longer. And just like that, he stands long enough to see the foes fade away before he falls into your waiting arms. 

He isn’t afraid of this moment- in truth he yearned for it for years before meeting you. But of all ways to go, he knew this had to be the most honourable of all. He felt finally satisfied in your grasp. Yes, dying in your place was surely the best choice he had ever made.

Tartaglia

Chillde knew that it would one day be the thing to kill him. The Doctor had warned him that one more prolonged use of the delusion would prove fatal.

You found this out the hard way- as he fumbles out of his Foul Legacy form, choking on the blood and phlegm stuck in his lungs, and stumbling to his knees to catch his breath. He knows it’s useless. So when you race up to him, holding him steady and yelling at him worriedly for his negligence, he just smiles cheekily at you. 

“You’re so cute where you’re mad,“ he sighs softly, squeezing your hand as he collapses into your chest. 

“You’re an idiot, Ajax!“ you cry in frustration, “I always knew it would happen but god- not now- i just thought we’d have longer... “

He smiles sadly up at your face, feeling your tears drip onto his own cheeks, slivering down his neck. “Please don’t be sad. I hate it when you’re sad-”

“I can’t help it- you’re dying!“ you whine, “You’re literally fading in my arms. I dont know what i’m doing- you’re so subborn sometimes.“

“What am i going to tell your family? Teucer?“

His bright eyes fade a little at your words. He didn’t ever think you’d react so passionately to his death. He wanted to tell you about how he had sorted a generous fund for his family- and you. But he really could not comfort you with that. He didn’t worry because he would not be there to see the fallout.

“Teucer’s a smart kid. They all understand the risk- and the way i see it, i’d do it 1000 times over- if it meant i’d die to save you“

“Think about how sad Teucer would be if it was you who died“ he breathes out shallowly. “They’ve prepared for mine- but you- you came by surprise, and they all love you- and for you to get ripped away without warning would hurt everyone- including me.“

Zhongli

Zhongli had long since accepted that you would one day die. What he just could not bear to accept was that he was destined to watch you die. From the moment he met you, to the moment he fell in love, to now to this moment. 

The air seemed to stagnate around him, stopping in its tracks. His eyes darted around and he surely knew there were two things in danger, himself and the person he had fallen so helplessly in love with, and only enough time to generate a shield to save one. He realises that this should probably have been a more complicated dilemma but it takes him less than a second to choose to wrap you in his geo energy.

You realise what he’s done very quickly, screaming and trying to run to him, against the forces that attack you both but the shield is too strong. You bang against it desperately, yelping in anguish as you see him face his ultimate destruction.

He gives you a look that at once makes you stop and stare in awe and grief. He stands tall against the attack, glowing a bright gold, so bright all attackers flinch away under it as if it were burning them. 

And then all at once, there is no danger.

And the golden husk that defended you shatters and floats to the floor like singed paper.

And you look around in relief to see that you are safe. There is nothing left to hurt you.

But there is also no Zhongli. There is nothing left where he stood but a pile of dust and the earring that once dangled so serenely from his left ear. You quickly pluck it from the pile, sobbing as you do so, before clutching it to your chest. you wail loudly in despair as he slowly begins to shift across the ground with the breeze, scattering gently over the stone..

Surely this could not have been your lover’s show of erosion? Was he really nothing but earth now? Something so unmovable had become something transitory like dust.

You scramble to gather the dust in your free hand, scrunching it in your shaking fingers and holding it so tight you can feel each grain of him.

You cling to the hope that maybe he is still here. Rocks erode and in time become silt and sand, but they do not disappear completely.

Kaedehara Kazuha

Kazuha finds himself facing the Raiden Shogun, her judgement imposing on top of him like a smithing iron. In that moment he is reminded greatly of his friend. 

He could have given you up. He could have let you take the blame for your own actions.

So why didn’t he? You ask yourself that a lot.

And the answer to him is simple,

He cares a whole awful lot more about your life than he does his own.

And that is perhaps the biggest reason he is not scared when he is faced with the sword that glows purple as it begins to charge. 

“Do you have anything to say in your last moment Kaedehara Kazuha?“ the puppet asks.

He shakes his head, though his heart beats with echoes of ‘i love you.... please dont be sad.’

Thoma

Thoma was not the same after that. You doubt he remembers you, let alone what he did. Does he remember he once possessed a vision? Does he remember the feeling of loving you, or how it felt to be simply in your presence.

So many questions run through your head as you approach the man who stood in the courtyard. He seeingly looks into the space in front of him, without seeing anything at all. Only when you get close to him does he shake off the stare. He gives you a polite smile before continuing his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?“

“I’m not completely sure.“

“What do you mean?“

“I feel like im missing something- like i’ve forgotten something on my shopping list.“

“Sometimes i feel like that“ you hum.

“Like you’re not completely whole, or that you forgot your shopping list?“ he remarks. He almost seemed the same in that moment but you knew from his look that he didn’t know who you were.

“Both. Increasingly the first one.“ you give him a look, “I lost someone- a big part of me- and i don’t think i’ll ever be myself again.“

“I- i think i lost something too.“

You take a breath, “Thoma do you remember me?”

He shakes his head; though sad, he still smiles at you.

“I dont think that’s what it is though- at least not completely“

You feel your heart crack at that.

“I don’t remember who you are, or what you do, or what we did. But“ he turns to you and gently nudges your shoulder, 

“I remember that i loved you.“

[stormingfrost]

Wonders of the Invisible World 

Tags: Body horror, major character death, Implied/Referenced child abuse, original characters, pitch/sandy, Katherine/nightlight

summary: 

Through hundreds of years of strange things happening all over the world, finally someone sees. The Bennett family is now at the forefront of every children's tale - except, now, they learn that these tales are not only real, but much, much darker than they first thought.

For @rotg-halloween day nine: Changeling

Read it on AO3

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 /13

chapter nine: Changeling

under cut

Joyce held Sophie close to her. Colors flashed around her, lights flickering as she begged for her children’s safety. 

“That’s not Sophie.” 

The voice echoed in her head. 

“No,” she begged. “Don’t.” 

Sophie wasn’t breathing. Her eyes were empty and dead. Like she didn’t have a soul. 

“That’s not your daughter.” 

The woman next to her bent down and grabbed her. Joyce struggled against her, pleading that her daughter had to be safe. 

Sophie fell from her grip. The world sharpened, the colors and lights staying in one place. 

Joyce looked down, staring at Sophie. The thing was wood, carved to perfection. 

“Why?” She asked. Mary held her. 

“We’ll get her back,” she whispered. “Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.” 

Joyce looked at the woman. She was the spitting image of Jamie. She hadn’t noticed that before. 

Something in her trusted her. Deep down, past the grief and the pain. Everything would be alright. 

Andy approached them carefully. 

“Uh, you okay?” Joyce nodded. 

“She unlocked her power,” Mary said. “It was an unfortunate way to do so, but there is no stopping it now. The storm she conjured will pass, as well as this fake will return to normal wood.”

Joyce hesitated. She didn’t remember a storm. She only remembered seeing those two monsters taking Sophie. She remembered running to them, yelling and screaming. She failed to save her child. 

“Joyce?” Andy asked, nudging her. “You looked dazed.” 

“What happened?” She asked.

“A big wave of… some kind of…blue shit released out of you. Then it started thundering and you were holding something that looked like Sophie.” 

“That ‘blue shit’ was her power,” Mary explained. “Your energy. You unlocked your power of being a witch. The urge to protect your children made your energy grow stronger until it did this.” She motioned around the room. 

Any furniture was knocked over. The windows were shattered. The door leading into the hallway was ajar. 

Vivian held Jamie, who looked scared. The two wolves stood next to them. Joyce ran her hand down her face. 

“Long day, huh?” Shadowbent said, his bones cracking as he transformed back into his more human-like form. He was still a wolf-man, but she could make out human features. She tiredly nodded. 

Jamie pushed past Vivian and hugged Joyce. She held her son close to her. 

“We’ll save Sophie, right? Nothing bad will happen to her?” 

“Of course.” 

She looked up to Mary, who nodded. 

“How do we do this?” Joyce said. She was sitting on the couch, with Jamie leaning against her. He’d fallen asleep quickly. Vivian looked tired as well, opting to lean against the couch’s arm. Andy stood, looking out the window into the night. 

Shadowbent sat across from her, watching as Jamie stirred and murmured something in his sleep. 

“Knowing the Storyteller,” Mary started, “she’ll bring Sophie to the Moon.” 

“The Moon?” Andy asked, turning to the conversation. 

“Yes.” Mary nodded. “He is their benefactor. The spirit who is inhabiting my brother’s body was close to the Moon. So, she is as well.”

Joyce mulled this over. 

“We have to get her back. Let’s go.” 

Mary shook her head.

“Not tonight. I’m sorry, I know how important it is to get her back. But you all are tired. It would be a waste to go now.” 

Joyce frowned. 

“She’s my daughter. She’s two! You can’t-“ 

“Joyce,” Mary interrupted. “Look at you. Look at your siblings. Look at your son. It is time to rest. In the morning, we will go after them. I will teach you to hone your talents. Until then, you have to sleep.” 

“Sorina and I will keep watch,” Shadowbent said. “They surprised us before, but we will not let it happen again. Rest now, and we will make sure nothing happens tonight.” 

Joyce nodded. It made logical sense. Something in her broke as she thought about how she was abandoning her daughter. She was so little, so trusting… 

She looked down at Jamie, running her fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered open, staring up at her. 

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” 

She stared up at the ceiling, noting the holes which let light in. This place was a biohazard. She sighed, looking across the room at the sleeping forms of her family. 

Blue light seeped through her arms, glowing at her fingertips. She stared at it, wiggling her fingers experimentally. 

If Mary was to be believed, then she was a witch. 

Sure. This is her life now. Everything else was crazy, so why not? 

Shadowbent walked over to her, sitting down on the floor next to her. 

“It feels strange, doesn’t it?” He whispered. 

“Yeah. I feel it pulsing through me like my heartbeat.” The wolfman nodded. 

“I remember when I first transformed. I hope you have a better transition than I did.” Joyce nodded, looking down at her hands. The light dimmed, almost disappearing entirely. 

“I need her to be safe,” she murmured. “I failed.” 

Shadowbent shook his head. 

“No. You didn’t. You try your best. You had every odd stacked against you.” 

Joyce glanced over to Jamie. 

“You killed…” 

“I know. I apologize for that. He wanted to kill you.” 

Joyce nodded. Shadowbent smiled and got up. 

“Try and get some sleep, Joyce. You have a long day tomorrow.”