#it's why she followed him in the first place

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓕𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂

🄸 🄻🄾🅅🄴 🅈🄾🅄 🄸'🄼 🅂🄾🅁🅁🅈

𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

cw | smut, swearing, pet names, jealousy, possessiveness, unprotected p in v, squirting, fighting, name-calling, fingering, reader tries to make rafe jealous, cyberbullying, make up sex, intox

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓗𝔂𝓪𝓽𝓽 𝓚𝓪𝓾𝓪𝓲 𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓽, 𝓗𝓪𝔀𝓪𝓲𝓲

The waves crash against the shore, a steady pulse that should be soothing, but your mind is elsewhere. You swirl your fruity cocktail, watered-down from nursing it for the last few hours, as your mind becomes consumed with thoughts of Rafe and why he hadn’t called. It hadn’t just been a day… three, to be exact. 

Rafe being busy wasn’t unusual… Greek life occupied him between meetings, events, school, and whatever else took up his time when you weren’t around. But the silence felt different this time. Deliberate even.

You open Instagram, tap his profile, and see nothing.

Topper���

You open Topper’s story, seeing your boyfriend smiling at a frat house dinner, a beer in his hand, and his phone resting on the table next to his plate of spaghetti. Your stomach twists as you think about him catching the messages you sent, seeing your face on his screen as your call comes through, choosing to let it go to voicemail. 

Your heart breaks a little more as Topper’s next story plays; Rafe packed in the back of an Uber with some friends, headed out to the bars. The following story plays from a different perspective. One row closer to the front, Rafe’s blurry face, caught in the background of her selfie. 

Kaylor Jane... Bleach blonde hair, statuesque, the type of woman who never seemed to doubt her place in the world. She’d been around before—at frat parties, lingering at different social events the boys had on campus. 

You blow out your air nice and slow, hating yourself for doing it, but you open up her profile nonetheless. 

She’s an influencer–an Alex Earle doppelganger–with a decent following for her makeup and lifestyle posts; a mini-celebrity on campus, to say the least. 

Your stomach falls as you see the thumbnail of her evening’s Get Ready With Me–sporting an oversized Phi Delta Theta shirt. You breathe a sigh of relief, your mind instantly screaming that it’s Rafe’s, eased as you catch the year scrolled across the bottom, the shirt obviously thrifted. 

Posted 51 minutes ago | 10,657 Likes |  180 comments

@/rafecameron001: 🔥🔥🔥

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your jealousy in check, but then again, why is he commenting that? Why the hell is he on her page? Why the fuck is he commenting on her shit and not messaging you back? 

@/yourname2: ? 

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself as you see your comment below Rafe’s, angry with yourself for sending it in the first place, but now it’s too late. The last thing you were going to do was delete it. 

You log out of the app, slamming your eyes shut as you try not to let your emotions get the best of you. It was nothing scandalous—just a fire emoji, simple and vague. But your gut twists regardless. 

Rafe wasn’t the type to comment on random posts—he wasn’t even the type to browse social media. He went looking for this. Your self-control lasts a minute, tops, and when you open the app again, you see that her PFP has shifted back to pink again, making your heart and mind race knowing she uploaded another story. 

Another selfie, a dimly lit bar you recognized, packed wall-to-wall. And again, just like in the cab, you see Rafe’s blurry face posted up behind her. You bite your cheek, debating whether or not you want to make this worse for yourself as you read the caption at the bottom of the picture with a link to the Live stream on her TikTok page. 

And just like before, your curiosity gets the best of you. 

You click the link, quickly joining the live stream. Muffled music pours from your phone speakers as she and her friend lean into the camera, welcoming familiar names as they enter the room. 

Your stomach falls as you see your username roll across the feed. Her eyes brighten, glossy lips curling into a smile. 

“Ohhh, look who just joined,” Kaylor coos, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. 

Her friend sees the name as well. She chuckles cruelly, giving her friend a side eye before looking back at the screen. 

“Long time no see,” she chirps, not even mentioning your name, but you know she’s talking about you, recalling the one civics class you took together in junior year. You swallow hard, grip tightening around your phone. 

Kaylor flicks her hair over her shoulder, adjusting her Princess Polly top, her tanned tits squished between the low, swooping neckline, making the boys in the comments go insane. 

Her eyes glitter in amusement as she sees it all, reading a few comments with her friend as she laughs. 

“Wait,” she gasps, lifting her hand up to her lips. “How rude of me. You probably wanna say ‘hi’ to him, huh?” She adds, circling back to you, dragging out the last utterance like it’s a joke. 

She reaches out her manicured hand, pulling Rafe into the frame. “Rafey, babe, come here for a sec,” she purrs. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles. Rafe smiles down at her first before looking at the camera. Your chest tightens as you watch the moment unfold in front of you in real-time. 

“Say ‘hi,’” she giggles, and he finally tears his eyes away. He drops his hands to his knees, far taller than Kaylor, squinting slightly in the low lighting as he reads the comments from her thirsty viewers as they gush about him. 

@/miamibabe11: Omg he’s so hot

@/danigirl11: Ally is he your man???

@/tarahhh34231: Wait are they dating??

@/southernbellee7: He’s BLUSHING

@/stacyrae96: BIG BOY KAYLOR omg does it hurt? 

@/fallenonthefield: Does he go to FSU

@/stacyrae96: Frat boy huh? 

@/danigirl11: What’s his @

Rafe laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks a little pink in the glow of the camera. “Damn, y’all are wild,” he chuckles, clearly eating up the attention you’ve been wanting to give him. And then, Kaylor twists the knife. 

Her hand wraps around his big bicep as she leans into the frame, resting her head on his shoulder to get a better look at the comments coming in. 

“You’re fuckin’ taking my gig, Rafey,” he flirts. “They like you more than me. Why do you like him more than me?” She teases through a laugh. “Rafey… I brought you over here to say ‘hi’ to y/n, but I guess he got distracted by all these beautiful babes,” she praises her guests, making the feed flood with likes and comments again as Rafe’s expression changes slightly.

“Oh. Hey, baby,” he hums, and if you didn’t know him better, you’d think he wasn’t losing his shit completely. 

That bright smile he had plastered all over his lips falters. His strong jaw tenses, broad shoulders straightening as his eyes dart away.

“Oh, thanks, Rafe.” Kaylor’s voice is so sugary and sweet that it’s borderline smug. She reaches out, taking a cocktail from his hand before passing another to her friend. “You got these for us, right?” She asks as Rafe steps out of the frame. “Aww, thank you, love. Your boyfriend’s the sweetest.” 

Kaylor lifts the mixed drink to her lips, taking a slow sip as she bounces to the song's beat, letting the moment stretch out before striking again. “Oh shit, babe. Speaking of, I saw your little comment on my post earlier,” she says as she batts her long lash extension at the camera. “All you commented was a question mark,” she huffs confusedly, tilting her head slightly. “Did you have a question for me, or?” The chat explodes with comments–people wondering what she was talking about, wanting context and the platform so they could check it out themselves. 

@/xoxomelody: No way It was on the GRWM she replied that under her boyfriends post 💀💀💀💀

@/urfavcassie: He liked what he saw

@/nattyspams: Omg y/n leave that man

@/notannie: Omg no way this is so messy

@/officialabby: Is his gf watching?? LMAO

@/theyluvsara: She caught him red-handed

@/iloveerin08: Ally you’re EVIL for this I love it

@/cinnamongirl567: Rafe bro say something

Without responding, Kaylor blows the camera a few quick kisses, ending the Live. 

Your heart thumps in your ears as your phone trembles in your hands. You stare out at the ocean as tears shimmer in your eyes. You look down at your phone, half-expecting to see a notification from Rafe, but still, nothing comes in; not a text, not a call, nothing. 

You walk toward the bar, avoiding your little group of girls as you step around, hiding out for the moment, knowing that if anyone asked you what was wrong, you’d fall apart. 

You belly up to the bar, ordering a drink. Your body jolts as your phone buzzes against the bar top, rattling as Rafe’s face and name lights up your screen. And even though you’ve been waiting for days, you ignore it initially, wanting him to sweat it out—too stunned and too nauseous to process what had just happened. 

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Rafe: Baby, please pick up.

Rafe: My phone died at the bar. I swear I would’ve called you sooner if I could.

Rafe: I know how bad that looked. I know. Just let me explain.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh even if there is an “explanation” you know what you saw. The comment on her picture, the lingered gazes, that smile that has, to your better knowledge, been reserved for you and you alone. 

You stare at the messages, feeling your chest tighten. And just when you’re about to cave, another one comes in. 

Rafe: Please baby

Your jaw clenches, thumbs drumming over the keyboard, only to delete. There were a million things you wanted to say…

You: So now you text me Rafe?

You watch as he starts to type a message, then deletes it like you did. 

Rafe: You’re on a trip with your girls Princess. I was trying to give you some space so you didn’t have to worry about me.

You: Jesus Christ Rafe are you fucking kidding me? 

Rafe: What?

You: I am texting you I obviously want you to reply

Rafe: I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy.

You: Not that busy

Rafe: What are you talking about? 

You: You have not been busy enough not to reply to a text. Just stop.

Rafe: I swear baby

You: Did you know that in the time you took to send her 🔥🔥🔥 you could have said goodnight to me?

You: You let her make a fool of me on Live Rafe

He reads it immediately. Three dots pop up, then disappear. Then pop up again.

Rafe: I didn’t know she was gonna do that. I swear, I wasn’t thinking. I was just trying to be nice and then it got out of hand.

You scoff and shake your head. Trying to be nice?

You: Buying drinks for her and her friend? Laughing when everyone in the chat thought you were with her? Blushing when she flirted with you? That was you just being nice?

Rafe: It wasn’t like that

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The worst part was that it was like that. You saw it with your own eyes. You tip your head back, trying to keep your tears in your eyes. 

Rafe: Baby? 

You: Why are you commenting on her pictures Rafe?

Rafe: Baby…

You: Answer me

You: If I go through your activity right now will I find more??? More comments like that? 

The dots appear again. Then disappear. You laugh bitterly, shaking my head. That’s what I thought.

You: You didn’t expect me to see it did you?

You close your eyes, picturing him pacing his room, stressed, running his fingers through his hair, jaw locked, fingers hovering over his screen as he tries to think of something to say that’ll dig himself out of this hole.

Rafe: We’re in the same accounting class. We’re working on a project together. She’s really nice but I don’t like her. She was wearin an old frat shirt from my house princess. It was only abt that. I was just messing around and I didn’t mean shit by it. Look at my phone you’ll see I have nothing to hide from you. Nothing. I wasn’t thinking.

You: That’s the problem Rafe. You weren’t thinking about me at all.

You stare at your screen, scrubbing away a tear as it puddles on the glass, as you wait for his reply.  

New Notification: Friend Request Kaylor Jane

Your blood boils as you see her name on your feed. Your fingers move on autopilot, rechecking her feed. It’s a short clip—just a few seconds long of Kaylor and her friend from her Live stumbling down Main Street in their heels as they head toward a cab. 

She lifts her hand, sticking up her middle finger; her tongue bit between her perfect teeth. Her hair whips in the wind, tits bouncing with each leggy step she takes as an Ariana Grande song plays. 

Song | break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored - Ariana Grande

🎶 “Break up with your girlfriend. Yeah. Yeah. ‘Cause I bored.” 🎶

@/xokaylorjane: Caption | Night’s not over yet 😉

The caption doesn’t even have to say where they’re going for you to know exactly where they’re headed. Her beautiful friend flashes the Phi Delt hand side before linking her arm with Kaylor. 

The post has only been up for seconds, but the comments have already begun. Most people following from her TikTok Live to her IG account, curious about why she left so. 

@/urfavoriteblonde: Wait where are y’all going now??

@/wtflola: Omg frat house afterparty??

@/miamidance21: She’s doing Rafe raw. next question.

@/umiamiluvr: Rafe’s house?? 👀

@/umiamiluvr: Girl you better know how to fight???? 

@/theyluvsara: Girlfriend’s gonna be PISSED LMAOtf

@/nattyspams: If I was y/n I’d be losing my shit 

Your fingers feel numb as you watch the clip again, then again, all while notifications continue to roll in from Rafe. You switch to his account, scrolling through pictures you’ve seen a hundred times before, but this time, you aren’t looking at him; you are looking for her.

@/xokaylorjane: Looking good rafey

@/xokaylorjane: Damn okayyy 👏

@/xokaylorjane: Drop the ab routine

@/xokaylorjane: 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

@/xokaylorjane: I see you Rafey

Rafe never replied—not once—but he liked every one. Every. One. You recalled him talking about his group project in Accounting; the timestamps of her comments at least cooperated with his story.

How had you missed this? 

And this wasn’t some random girl shooting her shot, either… This was someone Rafe knew. This was someone he talked to in class. Someone he spent time with at the library, someone comfortable enough to get a free drink from him. To drag him into her Live just to humiliate you. 

To everyone else, it was her flirting, and him, letting it happen. Which was embarrassing in and of itself. 

Rafe is jealous. There’s no way he would even allow a single comment to slip by without him noticing. And there’s no way he’d be okay with the shit that happened tonight.

Fucking hypocrite. 

You can barely breathe as you hit the call button, pressing it to your ear as you step away from the bar and walk toward the beach. 

“Hey, baby,” Rafe babbles–breathless as he picks it up on the second ring. 

The noise in the background is insane: loud music, shouting, laughter, the typical sounds of a frat party. 

“Are you partying right now, Rafe? Are you serious?” You scoff; the noise on the other end fading away as you utter the last word. 

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh. “Baby, I was literally just brushin’ my teeth. You’re eight thousand miles away right now… I couldn’t get to you if I tried, alright? I already looked. I’m gettin’ ready for bed.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not, princess. Why would I wanna party now? You’re obviously pissed… With good reason,” he recovers quickly. “I just wanna talk to you and go to bed. I want this night to be over with, okay? What’s going on, baby?”

“It sounds like you have a lot to hide, Rafe.” 

“I don’t…” He answers gently. “I swear. She’s been tryin’ to talk to me for two weeks; I’m not gonna lie about that. I didn’t ask her to come out tonight. That drink… I owed her a drink for doin’ my part of the PowerPoint ‘cause I procrastinated like usual. I shouldn’t have done it, regardless. I would have killed someone if they were doin’ that shit for you.” 

“That was so embarrassing, Rafe.” 

“I know… I know, baby. I’m sorry,” whispers his voice, desperate and tired. “I left the bar. I came home. I’m not out partying. What else do you need? I’ll do it–”

“FaceTime me,” you cut him short. 

“‘Course, baby,” he assures, the FaceTime notification coming in the next second, and there he was. Rafe stands in the dim glow of his bedroom, the camera angled at the mirror, catching him shirtless in his pajama pants, his hair brushed back slightly. 

“I miss you,” he mumbles sheepishly as he looks at his phone. “You look beautiful, princess. Where are you?”

You take a deep breath, finding it more challenging to say strong as you see the anxiety in his eyes. “The beach–”

“By yourself?” He asks worriedly, with not an ounce of accusation in his voice; it's just Rafe being protective. Being the guy you never thought would put you through what he’s put you through tonight or for the last few days. 

“Yeah…” You whisper as you turn around in the cool sand, heading back toward the resort. 

The light shines on your face; Rafe, able to take in your beautiful features, your cheeks glossy with tears, your eyes reddened, and your lashes wet. 

Your bottom lip quivers, and he knows he fucked up. His heart breaks as he looks at you, and even though pure stupidity got to this point and he didn’t want anything to do with her, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

“Baby…” He whispers, wanting you to look at him, but you know you’ll break down completely the second you do. “I wasn’t thinking… I didn’t think it mattered because she doesn't matter to me. I wasn’t thinking about you like you deserve to be thought about. And I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m so, so sorry. See—” 

He holds out the phone, scanning it around his room. His bed is pristinely made, just like he leaves it every morning. His TV is already on, playing ESPN with the sleep timer on. 

It was normal… It was Rafe.

“I swear, princess–” Light floods the room, stealing the words off his lips. He looks toward the door, panic flashing across his face as he turns. 

“Hey, Rafey.” You hear Kaylor’s sticky, sweet voice coming from the open door, the party surging before she pulls it shut, closing the two of them inside. 

“Hey. Wha-What are you doin’ here?” He asks. 

“Just thought I’d say ‘hi’’.” You can hear the smirk in her voice as she gets closer and closer. Your body starts to rush with adrenaline and anger. 

Rafe hesitates… 

He’s just silent. 

So, if he’s not gonna say anything, I am.

“Bye, Rafe–” Your voice cuts through the quiet of Rafe’s room. 

“No. No-No,” he panics as you end the FaceTime. 

His calls come in seconds later, back to back to back, you denying each one. 

You: Hate to interrupt whatever the two of you have going on. Just know we’re done.

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐ 𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓵 𝓖𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼, 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪

The music thumps through the old house's walls, a steady beat that seems to pulse in your chest. You swirl your drink absentmindedly, leaning against the counter as you look around the packed baseball house. 

You came to distract yourself—to drown out his thoughts, but as it had been for weeks, it wasn’t working. 

Your phone buzzes in your hands, the tiny vibrations feeling almost like a taunt. 

You weren’t together… You didn’t need to torture yourself with the idea of him, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

You weren’t over him… Not in the slightest.

You move your thumb, unlocking the screen. And there he was–Rafe Cameron, his beautiful face lighting up your screen as you bring your drink to your lips, taking a sip.

Rafe, Topper, and Kelce posing for a picture at some event. He had floated the invite to you, just in case you were interested… Just as he had been for weeks as well. 

His smile is beautiful–the man is so physically attractive it fucking hurt. But it wasn’t the picture that made your heart sink; it was the comments. 

@/umiamiluvr: Looking amazing as always 😍

@/miamidance21: Are you going out tonight? I think we’re going to Bar-X

@/fallenonthefield: Check your DMs

@/southernbellee7: Daddy daddy daddy

Your stomach twists as you read through the long line of thirsty comments. After that TikTok Live with Kaylor, Rafe’s account had taken off a bit, some of those same girls still hanging around, making it more and more difficult not to feel like some insecure teenager every time he posted, but you couldn’t help it. 

And, unlike before, when he liked Kaylor’s comments, he completely ignored theirs, but you couldn’t help but think about one of them catching his eye. You couldn’t help but think about him being over trying to win you back just to move on with someone else. 

That can’t happen. You knew you needed him to see you–to think about you like you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

You lift your camera, take a picture, making sure to give just enough away so Rafe knows exactly where you are, catching the Miami University baseball flag in the back. 

@/yourname2: Caption | Out tonight. Feeling good. 😉

And before you overthink it, you push post, adding it to your TikTok story. Maybe he’d respond, maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, you needed to feel like you weren’t the only one caught in an endless loop of missing and yearning. 

The ache grew heavier in your chest. You grabbed a bottle of tequila off the counter, pouring yourself a shot, downing one, quickly pouring another. 

Your best friend steps beside you, hauling you out of your spiral. “You okay?” She asks, her voice loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah,” You lie and force a smile against the rim of your SOLO cup before you take another drink. “Having the time of my life.”

She gives you a knowing look, but she doesn’t push it. “Let’s dance… Forget about, Rafe,” she smiles as she lifts her drink for a cheers. You do the same, pounding the rest of your mixed drink before grabbing another and heading toward the dance floor. 

You sway to the music; your head, light; body lost from a few too many drinks. But for the first time in a long time, you weren’t overthinking, scrolling, or waiting for the text that would make it all better. You were just dancing… 

And, drunk… Drunk as fuck. 

A laugh bubbles up in your lips as you twirl. When you steady yourself, a strong arm laces around your waist, his fingers glinting with a few rings. 

The smell of his cologne fills your nose–spicy and woodsy–the scent of the fat blunt he just smoked clinging to his shirt as well. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You turn around fast, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug.

“Hey, JJ,” you smile. 

He twirls you under his finger, taking you in as he gives you a low whistle. “Goddamn, you are beautiful,” he praises. 

“Thank you,” you smile as your head tilts slightly. 

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

The baseball boy smirks down at you, his hands resting lightly on your waist. He’d been all over you for the last twenty minutes, whispering in your ear, his touch a little too confident.

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” he points back to his friend, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did you want anything?”

You shake your head ‘no’ and smile. “Thank you, though.” 

“Of course. Don’t move, aight?” He asks, giving you a wink before disappearing into the thick crowd. 

You move in the other direction, weaving through bodies to find a quieter spot. Grabbing your phone you open up your TikTok page, notifications stacked with a few reactions from your friends, but not Rafe. You scroll through your list of viewers, his name on the bottom, the first one to see it. 

Buzz. 

Your phone vibrates in your hand, making your chest tighten. You hesitate momentarily before pulling up his page and catching the new post. It’s simple. He was at the gym. Not here. Not at a party. Not chasing after you.

It’s a mirror selfie: defined muscles, and sweat, his shirt tucked into the waistband of his shorts. His face is serious, jaw clenched, but something was intentional about it—like he knew you would see this. And the caption? It's a direct play on yours.

@/rafecameron001: Caption | Late night at the gym. Feeling real good.

The realization hit you like a slap to the face—Rafe was playing the same game you were. And you hated how much it was working. And like clockwork, the comments and likes started flooding in. 

Kaylor… Her comment sat there, smug and bold, right under his picture.

@/xokaylorjane: Nice seeing you at the gym 😉 This is me trying to convince you to go out. What’s it gonna take? I’ll do it.

You feel the heat rise in your neck, pooling in your cheeks, vision tunneling as you reread it again. 

She had been there, talking and flirting, and she was still doing it. And Rafe? He hadn’t liked the comment… Not yet. But he also didn’t turn her down either. 

You open her account next, and there she is, leaning into the mirror and applying a fresh coat of gloss to her already too-perfect lips. Her dress is practically painted on–some viral POSTER GIRL dress, hugging every inch of her perfect body, her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a Pam Anderson-style messy bun with bedroom eyes to match. 

@/xokaylorjane: Trying to catch this frat boy’s attention 🤭 what do we think ladies?

She didn’t have to say his name. She didn’t have to tag him. You knew exactly who she was talking about, and so did her followers. Whatever… 

Your heart pounds with the bass as you walk back into the mess. You look across the way, catching JJ’s eye. He smiles, and so do you, slow and deliberate. He nods a silent invitation, telling you to ‘come here.’

By the time you reach him, he’s already holding a drink for you. “Figured you needed this,” he smiles. 

Your face twists slightly, fingers brushing over his for just a second too long. “And, what gave you that impression?” 

JJ shrugs as he tilts his head slightly, stepping closer to you. “Just had a feelin’... And, guys, talk. I know you got some shit goin’ on with Rafe.”

“You could say that,” you sigh as you look up at him. 

“I hate that guy.” 

“What?” You chuckle as you scrunch your nose. “Why?” 

“Why not,” he scoffs, taking a pull of beer. “And he’s obviously a fuckin’ idiot because he fumbled you.” JJ’s handsome face twists in disgust. 

“Got no problem helpin’ you make him jealous, sunshine. I’m sure he’s gonna lose his shit. Fuck, he might even ruin this for himself, and I’ll be right there, showin’ you how much better I’d be. Truly, it’s a win-win for me... Worst-case scenario, I only watch Rafe crash out. Best case scenario, I watch Rafe crash the fuck out and get a shot with you.” 

You take a sip, letting the alcohol burn away the last bit of hesitation you had, and before you can think it through, you step even closer. JJ’s hand brushes against yours as a smirk spreads on your lips. 

“Okay,” you whisper, and just like that, you’re dancing again. 

JJ’s hands find your waist, guiding you to the beat. He turns you around, pulling you a little closer, your back pressed against his muscular chest, his breath warm near your ear as you start to dance. 

The music pulses around you; bodies pressed close, the heat of the party thick in the air. You can feel the baseball boy’s hands on your body as he moves with you, his face tilted close. 

Light floods around you for a moment, whirling away as your friend turns her phone camera from you toward herself, catching her smiling face as she looks up at her phone. 

She glances at you, flashing a devilish smirk, her eyes glinting with amusement. And, without hesitance, your friend hits upload.

Now, all that was left to do was wait.

Buzz.

You felt the vibration through your purse, barely registering it at first as the bass thrummed through your body. 

“Oh, shit…” JJ snickers. “That was fast.” The warmth of his taunting words fans against your neck, sending chills across your body as you both look down at the notification on your lock screen from Rafe. 

Rafe: I miss you

Rafe: Can we talk? Please

Rafe: What are you up to, princess?

The timing… It's almost comically fast. You stare at the message for half a second, thumb hovering over the keyboard before rolling your eyes, locking it instead, leaving him unread. 

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” JJ laughs as he grabs your hips, turning you toward him. “You’re gonna kill him… Please do,” he teases. You roll your eyes and rise on your tippy toes, leaning in his ear. 

“I’m gonna get a drink.”

You step away, making your way through the crowd again, and just as you do, you get another notification. 

Instagram Notification: Rafe Just Uploaded a New Post.

@/rafecameron001: Caption | Think I’ll stay in tonight

Your lashes flutter, feeling flustered as you see the newest picture, angled just enough to show the TV screen. ESPN’s playing on the screen, but what is the real focus? His abs. Bare skin, toned and relaxed against the sheets, the warm glow from the screen casting just enough shadow to make it clear this wasn’t some casual shot.

@/xokaylorjane: No Rafey. Room for me? 😘

It takes everything in your being not to throw your phone against the wall. Your heart slams in your ribs as Kaylor pounces on him yet again. 

You push the “like” button on her comment as a power move, and within seconds, your phone lights up with his name. 

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily before opening your heavy eyes, vision blurring slightly as the liquor courses through your veins.  

Fuck it. 

“Hey, baby. Where are you?” He asks, his voice already tight with worry.

You smile, slow and syrupy, letting the alcohol drip into your voice. “I’m out,” 

“You sound like you’ve been drinkin’. You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low, cautious. 

You laugh, tipping your head back against the wall. “I have been,” you admit. “A lot. But it’s fine. I feel amazing.”

“You don’t sound amazing… Where are you?”

You ignore the question, leaning back into the wall, letting his question hang in the air. “I don't know, but I  think I’m gonna leave soon,” you lie.

There’s a pause, the shift in Rafe’s breathing so sudden you could feel it like a ripple through the phone. 

“How do you not know, baby?” He asks worriedly. “I’ll come get you,” he said instantly. “Just—Just tell me where you think you are.”

“I don’t need you to pick me up, Rafe,” you say lightly with a teasing bite, toeing the line, pushing him just far enough to make it hurt. “I’m not alone; I’ll be fine.”

Silence. A dead, suffocating silence. Then—“Yeah? What the fuck does that mean?” He mumbles.

“It means you don't have to worry about me—you’re good at that. You should be fine.”

“Who are you with, baby?” He asks possessively.”

“… Friends? Obviously…”

Rafe sucks in a sharp breath. “Who?”

You lick your lips— heart racing even though you’d never admit it. 

You want to hear it. The anger. The desperation. The jealousy. Just a touch on the surface of the thoughts you've been feeling. 

“Cassie, Mabel, JJ—”

“That was Maybank. Are you fucking serious?” His voice is rough, raw with something dangerous, primal. “You’re joking? You’re drunk, you’re calling me, and you’re telling me you're with him?”

“You called me?” You let out a soft hum, playing with the hem of your dress. “He’s been really, really sweet tonight. I just think the two of you got off on the wrong foot,” you slur. 

“Baby, no,” Rafe pleads, his voice shaking and urgent. “Don’t do this. I’ll come get you; I don’t care where you are. Just—Just tell me. You're at the baseball house on Beach Road, yeah? I miss you. I love you, okay? I love you. And I know I fucked up, but you don’t need to do this. Please.”

You pause, letting his words sink in, letting the weight of them pull at something deep inside you. But then—Kaylor’s comment flashes in your mind. 

“You seem busy anyway,” you sigh. “Kaylor, right? Still, Rafe? Damn, That’s crazy,” you add with faux sweetness. 

“What? No, fuck, Kaylor. You think I care about her? I care about you. You’re drunk, and you’re making stupid decisions, and I’m—” Click.

You hang up. Rafe’s name flashes on the screen instantly as he calls back, but you shove your phone deep in your purse, walking straight back into the chaos of the party.

Your hands were shaking, but you pushed past it, past him, and everything… You press your hands to JJ's chest. “You wanna get out of here?”

JJ’s grin stretches wide. “Hell yeah.” 

Your phone vibrates incessantly as his name lights up your screen over and over between desperate texts. 

Rafe: Answer me

Rafe: Are you home?

Rafe: You’re scaring me baby. Come on.

Rafe: Please just text me back and let me know you’re okay.

Rafe: Stop fucking with me. You know I'm sorry you know I love you

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

The apartment was quiet now, the lingering pulse of the party still buzzing faintly in her veins. 

You crash down on the couch, leaning back, closing your eyes as the TV flickers with some random movie you’re not paying attention to. 

“You okay?” JJ murmurs, his large hand resting on your hip. He shifts behind you; lips grazing your neck. “Is this okay—” BANG. BANG. BANG. 

Rafe’s urgent knocking rattles the door hinges. “Baby! Open the door!” Rafe’s voice booms through the hallway, raw and frantic. “Are you okay?” Your heart drops, breath catching in your throat.

JJ lets out a frustrated groan, tossing his head back with an annoyed sigh. “Did I mention I hate that guy?” He laughs weekly.

“Maybank?” Rafe asks from behind the door as he overhears him. 

“Calm down, bitch. Let me pull out, alright?” JJ taunts and you shoot him a glare. “M’sorry, too far,” he chuckles softly.

“I swear to God, open the fuckin’ door! I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay!” Rafe’s voice cracks a mixture of jealousy, anger, and worry breaking through his every word. “Are you okay? Baby, just—just open the door. Please.”

JJ sits up, his jaw tightening. “Do you want me to handle this?” 

“No,” you say quickly, listening as Rafe spits threats at JJ from the other side of the door. Your legs wobble slightly beneath you, the alcohol still thick in your system. “I’ll handle it.

You walk over to the door, resting your forehead against the wood, closing her eyes. “Go home, Rafe,” you whisper, soft but firm.

“No–No. Co’mon, princess. Please,” he pleads desperately, his voice hoarse and soft. “I’m sorry about, Kaylor. I’ve been tryin’ to get your attention, that’s it–” 

JJ’s wicked laugh swallows up Rafe’s words. “Pussy…”

“Anyone but him, princess…”

You turn, watching Maybank smirk as he runs his fingers lazily through his fluffy blonde hair. “This is sad, man… You’re embarrassing yourself–”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Rafe booms, his voice hitting your chest from behind the door as he hears JJ. With a deep breath, you turn the knob and open the door. 

Rafe rushes to you immediately, finding your arms, his touch rough and desperate. “Are you okay?” He asks urgently like you didn’t get yourself in this situation. “Did you drink too much? Do you need water? Did he–” His jaw clenches, eyes finding yours. “Did he try anything–” JJ scoffs and laughs again, the two of you looking back at him as he shakes his head in disgust at Rafe. “Why are you even here?” 

“You kiddin’ me, Rafe?” JJ asks as he rises to his feet, stretching like he had all the time in the world. Then, with a smirk, he runs a hand through his hair, deliberately messing it up more before casually fixing his collar—and tucking back in his shirt that was never tucked in, to begin with; a deliberate move, one final act of defiance, one last attempt to make Rafe think something had happened between the two of you before he got there.

“Alright. Time to go… Get. Out!” Rafe yells.

JJ just rolls his eyes, stepping closer. “She asked me to be here… The hell do you think I’m doin’ here, huh–”

“Bull-fucking’-shit, asshole,” Rafe spits.

“I’m the asshole, Cameron–”

“Yes, Maybanks. You are the asshole. I’m not the one takin’ advantage of drunk girls.”

“You think I’d let anything happen to her?” JJ smirks. “You and I ain’t the same, man. You think I’d take advantage of her? Hurt her?” He lets out a dark chuckle, stepping forward. “Isn’t that your job, Rafe?”

“The fuck did you just say?” Rafe asks, his voice was low and dangerous.

JJ shrugs, his blue eyes gleaming with their usual recklessness. “I mean, let’s be real here,” he says, tilting his head. “She’s only with me tonight because of you. You make it too easy, man. I barely had to try. You do all the damage yourself.

Rafe surges forward, shoving him, JJ quickly returning the hit. “Rafe, stop,” you warn. Rafe barely heard you over his ragged breathing, his big body trembling with rage. 

“Say that again, motherfucker. I fuckin’ dare you.”

“You better leave, Jay,” you say softly. 

JJ just laughs at Rafe again. “Fuck I love watchin’ you lose your mind, Cameron,” he drawls. 

“Leave,” Rafe warns as he steps chest to chest with Maybank. “She told you to leave. Get the fuck out before I kill you.” 

“Kill me? Bro, what the fuck? You don’t wanna kill me? What if you fuck up again, huh? Who’s gonna take care of her–”

“JJ,” you stop him before he can keep going. 

“Sorry, princess,” he smiles at you one last time, making Rafe scoff and suck his teeth, his body language looking like he was seconds away from taking a swing. 

“Get. The fuck. Out.” 

“You already won, Rafe. Again. But for the record?” He tilts his head, grinning, knowing exactly how to get under Rafe’s skin. “You should really learn how to keep her–” Rafe silences the blonde, throwing a big wad of cash at JJ’s chest.

JJ smiles a crooked smile as he meets Rafe’s eyes again. “You can’t just buy her frat boy?”

“No shit,” Rafe mutters, grabbing him by his shirt. “Get a cab and fuckin’ leave.”

JJ grins, having the time of his life as he gets the rise he was hoping for, lifting his hands in mock surrender. 

Rafe opens the door and shoves him back—hard. JJ stumbles into the hallway, knocking his back on the wall, and before he can rile up Rafe again, he slams the door.

The chaos shuts off completely–the apartment dead silent, apart from Rafe’s deep, labored breathing.

When you finally turn, Rafe’s already looking at you. Still angry… Still possessive… Still completely fucking wrecked over the whole thing. He strides toward you, but the second he does, you’re already walking away.

“Baby, stop,” Rafe pleads. You exhale sharply, refusing to meet his eyes, crashing down on the couch. 

Rafe’s heart fucking ached… It was so clear. And you couldn’t take it either. 

Your eyes lift to his, making him take a breath, trying to center himself as he gets your focus back. 

“Just give me a chance, baby?" His voice cracks as he moves closer, his big frame sinking onto his knees between her thighs, making himself small for you. "I love you. This is killing me."

You bite your lips as heat wells in your eyes, you, trying not to let your emotions be so clearly painted all over your face, but it’s no use. 

He looks up at you, pleading, his hands gripping your knees, his touch careful but desperate, making you look away to keep the tears in your eyes. “Princess… C’mon,” he whispers, his voice shattered. "Just listen to me. Look at me." 

Rafe takes your hand, lifting it to his lips, kissing the top as he tries to pull you back in. 

"I fucked up," he whispers against her skin. "I fucked up at the beginning of the month, and I've been trying to fix it ever since. Everything I did—everything was to get your attention."

He hangs his head low, shifting a little closer. 

"I don't want anything to do with Kaylor," he says, shaking his head and running his hands down your thighs. "I don't want anyone else, baby. I just want you back." He takes a deep breath, his broad shoulders tense with frustration and regret.

Rafe Cameron, the man who would never let anyone else see this side of him but you on his knees, begging for your forgiveness, completely and utterly ruined for you. 

“It was never more than talking… I don’t know why I didn’t put her in her place, why I let her embarrass you. I’m an idiot…”

You lift your hands, cupping his face, making him melt. The second you touched him, his shoulders drop, breath hitching, his hands gripping your thighs like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. 

"I swear to you," he whispers, pressing into your touch. "If you give me another chance... I'll take care of you. I'll do it right this time."

Your mouth crashes against his, urgent and deep taking him by surprise. Rafe kisses you back with the same intensity, his big arms wrapping around your body tightly like you might slip away. 

He groans into your kiss, hands moving up your body, gripping your waist, sitting down before pulling you on top, right where you belong. 

Your fingers twist into his shirt, needing him closer, feeling the heat of his body against yours. 

You smile against his lips as your fingers slip under his cotton shirt, fingers working higher and higher. 

“Princess…” He whispers against your lips, breathing rapidly before pulling back enough for you to chase his lips. Your eyes lock on his, your head spinning from the lingering buzz and his taste. 

“Mhmm…” 

“You–Fuck, are you sure you want this, sweetheart? Right now?” He asks as he leans in, kissing along your neck inside. 

Your head falls to the side, giving him more as your hands slip under the elastic of his sweat. 

“Of course, I want this, Rafe…”

“I just–You’re drunk, pretty. I don’t want you to hate me later.” He whispers hot against your skin as his fingers trace up your inner thigh, disappearing under your skirt, pressing against your soaked panties, making you whimper for him. 

“Rafe…” You sigh as you tug at the fabric of his pants. Rafe rushes to pull them down his thighs, quickly tearing off his white shirt before you can even finish your sentence. “Do you care?” You chuckle teasingly as he looks back at you with hungry eyes. 

Rafe’s eyes fall to your chest, watching with half-lidded eyes as you pop open the buttons of your cropped blouse one by one. He licks his lips, his eyes glazing over when he sees your breasts pressed together in a pretty lace bra. He swallows hard, shaking his head before meeting your eyes again. 

“Rafe Cameron…” 

“Mhmm…” He hums as his hands wrap around your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall between you. 

“Do. You. Care?” 

His big hands reach up, cupping your tits in his hands. “You’re so fucking perfect–”

“Rafe, you have two options here. Either you fuck me, or you leave… You decide–” Rafe steals your words off your lips before you can say any more, lifting you before tossing you to your back on the couch. 

He buries his face in his chest, nuzzling into your sensitive skin. Rafe takes your nipple between his plump lips, swirling and sucking as your head falls back. 

You feel Rafe smile against your neck before his hand drifts under your skirt, fingers brushing against the soaked lace of your panties. “Fuck, I missed you, baby,” he hums. 

Rafe pulls down your skirt, ripping down your panties as well before tossing them to the side. He kisses you again, letting his tongue slip between your lips. 

Your tongue rolls slowly with his as you wrap your fingers around his thick dick. Rafe groans deeply—the pads of his rough fingers start circling your aching clit. 

“I can’t tell you how much I need this,” he smiles as his fingers trace your soaked slit, too, teasing your entrance. “Wanna fuck your pussy so bad,” he mimics his word with a thrust of his hand, fucking two long fingers in your tight hole, making you gasp. “I’m gonna make you feel so, so good…” he hums between kisses as he curls his fingers inside you, making your back arch off the couch. 

“Rafe, fuck!” You cry as he drags his fingers across your G-spot, making your body tremble. You tug on his long cock, pulling to the tip. Precum drips off his throbbing tip, landing on your soft skin, rolling warmly down your inner thigh, making goosebumps flair across your bare skin.

Rafe pulls back slightly, grabbing his dick in his big fist and pressing his tip against your clit, making you squeal as you find yourself so close to falling over the edge.

He strokes quickly, rubbing your clit with his swollen tip, his precum mixing with your wetness, teasing the both of you. 

“I’m gonna cum–fuck. Fuck!” You cry as you grab your tits in your hands, watching him get you off with his tip alone. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, toes curling as your pussy flutters around nothing. 

“Atta girl… Fuck, that’s my girl,” Rafe praises, biting his lips, focusing hard on not cumming as he sees you like this. 

He smacks his cock against your cunt, making your muscle jump with each tap, the slick sounds of your pussy making him smirk. 

“Goddamn, baby,” he mumbles as he lowers himself to your lips, breathing heavily with you. “I could lie and say I forgot how wet this pussy gets, but I’m dreamin’ about it every night ...” 

Rafe rubs his fat tip along your slit, making you suck in a breath. His eyes fall down your body, watching as you move your hips ever so slightly, craving him inside you. “Please,” you whisper. 

“Shit,” he smiles as he circles his head around your soaked hole, teasing you as he presses himself in just a little before pulling his hips back. “Nothin’ better, I swear,” he hums drunkenly before thrusting inside, knocking the breath out of your chest. 

Rafe fucks into your slow at first, his eyes still trained on your body, watching your curves bounce with each thrust. 

Your pussy pulls him in with each stroke; filthy wet sucking sounds filling your ears and his as your slickness soaks him—essence rolling down his heavy balls onto the couch below.

His movements become more possessive and forceful, rutting into you with urgency. You grab for him, cursing under your breath as your pleasure mounts, feeling yourself about to come undone for him again. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me… I know you’re gonna cum. Think I forgot what this pussy feels like when you’re about to cum too… Just do it. Cum on my dick, baby,” He mumbles, his deep fucked-out voice barely heard over the clapping of your skin against his. 

Rafe buries himself into you, throwing his hips into you again and again as his name leaves your lips in a strangled moan as you fall apart. 

Rafe’s thick fingers push between your lips. You swirl your tongue and suck, looking up at him as he continues to stroke, blinking away overstimulated tears. 

“One more, princess. Okay?” He asks. 

His fingers press against your clit, rubbing fast, making fat tears roll down your cheeks. 

Your bottom lip trembles as his cock rocks in and rocks out, filling you deliciously each time.

“Rafe…” You whine as you look at the slight space between your bodies, watching your sloppy cunt take every inch—Rafe’s dick pulls out each time, slicked with your wetness, his big fingers slopping through the mess “M’gonna cum.” 

“Shittt,” he moans as your pussy tightens around him, your body cumming harder than it ever has before, taking him with it. Rafe moans your name as his hips stutter, muscles flexing as he fucks his cum deep.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you underneath him— his soft lips claiming yours tenderly as your bodies soften against each other. You breathe a deep sigh of relief as he kisses the corner of your lips, then your cheek, working to your neck before tucking himself close. 

The room is quiet now. The chaos of the night had settled, the alcohol faded from your system, leaving only clarity in its place. No more buzzing or reckless decisions—just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. 

“Thank you, princess,” he whispers as he looks at you like you’re his whole world. “I missed you… So fucking much.” Rafe cups your cheek in his hand, letting his thumb glide along your bottom lip. 

“I missed you too,” you breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, blinking quickly, scrunching his nose to keep his emotions at bay. “I love you, and I’m so sorry. I hope you believe me.”

“I forgive you,” you whisper, watching his eyes soften as he looks back at you. “I love you–” Rafe pulls you in, kissing you slowly. And when you kissed him back, soft and sure, he felt like he could breathe again. 

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

tags: @rafesthroatbaby | @marleymarleymarleymarley | @chelzaa | @rafesheaven | @nemesyaaa | @starkeysbabygirl | @littlelamy | @cameronsprincess | @lottalove4evelyn | @yasmin-oviedo | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @watchmerora | @rafeslovergirly | @buckybarnessweetheart | @anamiad00msday | @namelesslosers | @cades-outsider | @romaescapes | @starkeysprincess | @lish-0 | @oxpogues4lifexo | @unrealmirrorball | @lilithblackkk | @sleepiibunniiii | @gri959 | @rafesgiirl | @daryldixon83 | @akobx | @hyperfixationgirl | @lhhlver | @rrafeswhore | @slut-4-gojo | @blair-bears-blog | @loveesiren | @rafescorpsebride | @rafegf-real | @alphabetically-deranged | @ariana2saucyy | @rafestoothbrush | @hauntedfawnn | @laniirackssss | @wtfdudesblog | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @jkrafe | @alejstarkey | @rafe-cameronswife | @rafedaddy01 | @st8rkey

dividers | @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[mssishipi]

was it casual? - l.hs

PAIRING: heeseung x afab reader ft. sunoo

SYNOPSIS: Let’s play “Casual” by Chappell Roan. How far can you sink for a guy who only sees you as a bed warmer? Somewhere between the silences, you start to wonder. If it’s just casual, why does it feel so real? And if it means nothing, why does it hurt so much?

genre: angst warning: profanities, heeseung is an asshole (his friends also), reader is a sucker for bare minimum :(, smoking, contains 2nd hand smoke too, mention of pregnancy, sad and kinda happy ending (if you squint), lots of crying and self sabotage, explicit content (smut) contains unprotected sex, doggy style, pussy eating, mention of squirting, blowjob, shower sex.

WC:12.3K

A/N: damn 233 followers already? thank you so much! here's some angsty heeseung fanfic for y'all

"Why are you so dumb for crawling back to that man? We all know you're just one of the girls he likes to bang."

The words hit like a slap, burning through your chest, Your fingers clenched around the edge of the table, nails digging into the cheap wood, the pressure grounding you as frustration bubbled in your throat. You shouldn't care. You shouldn't. But fuck, it hurt.

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck everything about him.

You knew his reputation. Everyone did. He was the guy people whispered about in dimly lit hallways, the one whose name was laced with envy and lust.

Lee Heeseung wasn't just wanted—he was craved. His sharp cheekbones, the way his thin upper lip curled when he smirked, the small face that somehow made his presence even more intimidating. And that nose—slightly arched, just perfect enough to make your stomach twist when he looked down at you. He wasn't an academic genius, far from it, but intelligence was never his selling point. It was the way he carried himself, the lazy confidence, the quiet arrogance that made people flock to him like moths to a flame.

And you? You were just another moth.

But no—no, that wasn't true. You were different, weren't you? Heeseung doesn't fuck twice. That was his rule. One time, one night, then you were nothing but a name on his list, a passing memory in his beautifully wrecked life. Yet with you... it wasn't just once. He kept coming back, kept pulling you in with his heated stares, his late-night texts, the way he said your name like it meant something.

And maybe that's why you let yourself believe—just for a moment—that you were special.

But were you? Or were you just another girl foolish enough to think she mattered?

Your breath hitched, throat tightening as the weight of it all pressed down on you. You were exhausted. Exhausted from convincing yourself that he was just "figuring things out." That he was complicated, not careless. That maybe, just maybe, he wanted you the way you wanted him.

But he didn't. He never did.

And you were done.

Fuck him. Fuck his stupid, perfect face.

You were going to leave. You are going to block him, ignore him, and dragged him out of your heart with bloodied hands if you had to. It was what you deserved.

Sike, bitch.

"Heeseung!" You screamed his name, fingers twisting into the sheets as he drove into you from behind, your body arching under the force of his thrusts.

"Fuck, you're always so tight," he groaned, voice wrecked, half-laughing like he knew exactly how weak you were for him.

His grip on your waist tightened, his hips snapping against yours with punishing speed. Every thrust sent a shockwave through your body, pleasure and frustration tangling into something dangerous, something that made you forget why you wanted to leave in the first place.

His hand slid up your back, rough fingers ghosting over your spine before settling around your throat.

He forced you down, pressing your chest into the mattress as he continued to drive into you, deeper, harder, making you feel every inch of him. Your breasts bounced with each movement, and then—fuck—his other hand found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that made your legs tremble beneath him.

"You're shaking already?"

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape, but then he tightened his grip on your throat just enough to make your head spin.

"Hee—fuck—" Your voice broke as the pressure coiled inside you, too much, too fast, overwhelming.

"Come for me," he ordered, his breath hot against your ear.

And you did. Hard.

Your orgasm hit, your body clenching around him as pleasure crashed through you in dizzying waves.

Heeseung groaned, his pace faltering, and then he was spilling inside you, his hips jerking as he buried himself to the hilt. His lips found yours from behind, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, claiming kiss, the kind that made your heart stutter even as you hated yourself for it.

The both of you collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavy, bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.

Heeseung didn't move immediately. Instead, he slid his fingers through your hair, tugging lightly as he kissed the back of your neck—slow, lazy.

Your chest tightened.

Was it casual?

Your brain screamed yes.

But the way your heart fluttered said otherwise.

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck him for making simple things feel intimate.

Fuck him for always making you stay at his place, for the way he hugged you from behind in the morning, lips warm against your neck as he whispered a sleepy "Good morning, baby." Like you were his. Like this was more than just a cycle of fucking and pretending it didn't mean anything.

And fuck him—most of all—for never wearing a condom when it came to you.

Your legs shook as you sat on the edge of the bed, his cum dripping down your thigh. The room still smelled like sweat, sex, and Heeseung—faint cologne mixed with something distinctly him. Your chest rose and fell unevenly, fingers clutching the sheets as you glared at him.

"I told you not to cum inside me," you snapped.

Heeseung, fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low around his hips, only grinned as he reached for you, spreading your legs with ease. He looked down, watching the way your swollen cunt twitched, still messy from him.

"I always thought you weren't the type to let that happen," you muttered, frustration bubbling in your chest. "I heard you always wear a condom with other girls."

His smirk deepened. "Maybe you're not like other girls."

Your stomach twisted. You hated how easily his words got to you, how they made your heart stumble, made you want to believe you were different—even when you knew better.

Before you could snap back, Heeseung licked his lips, then slowly, wiped the mess between your legs with a towel.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, the rough fabric making you flinch. "I told you to take a pill," he murmured, his voice half-amused, half-serious.

Your glare hardened. "Fuck you? You're the one who needs to adjust, bitch. If I get pregnant—"

He cut you off smoothly, not even blinking. "It won't be a problem." He looked at you, eyes dark and unreadable. "I'm ready to be a father, babe."

Your whole body locked up. What?

Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing as you raised your hand to slap his shoulder. He laughed, dodging easily, catching your wrist in his grip before kissing your knuckles.

"You're so cute when you get mad," he teased, leaning in, his lips barely brushing against yours.

Your heart stupidly skipped a beat. He kissed you again—gentle, slow, as if this wasn't just another night of mistakes. As if he meant it.

"I'll buy you Plan B tomorrow," he murmured against your lips.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling against his chest.

Was it casual?

Fuck him for ghosting you after spending the whole weekend in his bed.

You stared at your phone, fingers tightening around the device like you could crush it, like that would somehow erase the ache in your chest. The message you sent two days ago still sat there, unread. Or maybe it was read, and he just didn't care enough to reply.

And screw you—screw you for being so fucking stupid. For always checking your notifications like some pathetic, desperate girl waiting for scraps of attention. For letting your heart lurch every time your phone vibrated, only to sink when it wasn't him.

"Just get over him already," your friend sighed, sipping her iced coffee as she leaned back against the café booth. "He's not worth it."

How could you?

How could you just get over the way he kissed your forehead in the middle of the night, the way he pulled you closer in his sleep, like he needed you there? How could you forget his sweet smile, his stupid Bambi eyes, the way he looked at you like you were something special—only to turn around and act like you didn't exist?

And screw you—screw you for being a fucking loser.

And that's why you were here, drowning in cheap alcohol, trying to forget him.

"God, I really need a drink." You muttered, rubbing your temple as the bass of the club pulsed through your skull.

Your friend side-eyed you, unimpressed. "It's fucking Wednesday, babe. Middle of the week. Calm your ass down."

You ignored her, slamming back another shot.

"Fuck Lee Heeseung!" you suddenly shouted, voice slurred, drawing a few stares from nearby tables.

Legs swaying, balance unsteady, you barely noticed when someone grabbed your waist, steadying you before you could fall flat on your face.

A familiar grip. A familiar presence.

Your blurry vision focused just enough to make out the sharp jawline, the messy dark hair, the annoyingly pretty face you spent too much time thinking about.

"Ohhh, it's you—Lee Heeseung!" You pointed at him, laughing as if this wasn't a complete fucking disaster. "What ya doin' here?"

His jaw ticked, eyes dark as they scanned over you—messy hair, smudged lipstick, a dress that rode up dangerously high on your thighs.

"I'm here to pick your drunk ass up." His voice was flat, irritated, but his hold on you was soft and steady. He slid your arm over his shoulder, gripping your waist tighter as he started leading you toward the exit.

You let him, but only because walking felt impossible.

Then, with a giggle, you leaned in, breath warm against his skin. "Ohhh, was it casual for you to pick me up at 3 AM because I'm sooo drunk?"

Your voice was teasing, but underneath it—hurt.

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around your waist for a brief second before loosening again.

"Shut up." His voice was quieter now, almost strained. "Let's go."

"No!" You ripped your arm from his grasp, stumbling back, your vision spinning.

"Why are you always like this, Heeseung?" Your voice cracked, but you didn't care. You jabbed a finger into his chest. "You fuck me on the weekends, make me feel like I actually matter, and then act like I don't exist after? You cuddle me, you kiss me, you hold me like—like I mean something! And then suddenly, you're back to being a complete dick?!"

You let out a bitter laugh, raising both middle fingers at him. "Fuck you! You couldn't even text me. Couldn't even take me out on a proper fucking date. What am I to you, huh?"

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a scoff.

"Is that the reason you got yourself wasted here?" His voice dripped with condescension, his lips curling in amusement like this was all some fucking joke to him. "Because I didn't text you? That's pathetic."

His words stung more than they should have. Your nails dug into your palms.

"Why do you even care about how I act?" he continued, "We're not even together, so you don't get to tell me what to do or what not to do."

You stared at him, breath shaky, chest tight.

"Not together." The words felt like poison in your mouth. "Right. That's your excuse for treating me like shit, huh?"

His eyes flickered with something more, but his face remained impassive, like he wasn't affected at all.

"I never made you any promises. You're not getting attached, are you? I just want to fuck you." he said simply, and somehow, that hurt the most.

Your throat burned. Fucking bastard.

"Right," you whispered, voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. Your nails dug into your palms so hard it hurt. "So I guess I was just some easy fuck to you, then?"

His expression didn't change, not even a flicker of guilt. His gaze swept over you lazily, bored, like he was already done with this conversation.

You could feel your resolve crumbling.

You wanted to slap him, to scream in his face, to put a fucking ax in his head for being such a heartless asshole. But you never did.

"You know what, Heeseung?" You took a step back, blinking away the sting in your eyes. "I actually thought—fuck, I actually thought you gave a shit about me." You let out a breathless chuckle, shaking your head. "But you don't, do you? You never did."

"God, I was so fucking stupid." You wiped at your face angrily. "Waiting for you to text me back like an idiot, hoping that maybe—maybe this time, it meant something." Your voice wavered, but you kept going. "But nah, right? It's just sex. Just another girl warming your bed. Just another weekend before you move on to the next."

"Fucking say something, Heeseung!" you snapped, stepping closer, shoving his chest. He didn't even budge. He just looked down at you, dark eyes blank.

And then—finally—he spoke.

"What do you want me to say?" His voice was low. "You knew what this was. I never lied to you. Whatever what's happening between us, it's just casual fuck."

Your stomach twisted. Right, casual.

"Fuck you." Your voice cracked.

You turned your back on him, forcing yourself to walk away, each step heavier than the last.

And the worst part? He didn't even follow you.

No "wait." No "don't go." No "I'm sorry."

Just silence.

The street felt too empty, the cold night air biting at your skin, but nothing compared to the hollowness settling deep in your chest. You had thought—no, you had hoped—that maybe Heeseung saw you as more.

But he didn't.

Because Heeseung wasn't the kind of guy to need anyone.

Not the way you needed him.

And you were done.

You were going to free yourself from this. No more late-night texts that made your stomach flip. No more rearranging your plans just to see him. No more pretending that his touches meant something when, in reality, they meant nothing.

You weren't going to be his puppy, following him around, saying yes to every last-minute "come over" text like some desperate loser.

You were leaving.

Right.

...

So why was it so fucking hard?

Why, after days of stubborn silence, after forcing yourself not to check your phone, were you back here again?

Why were you in his fucking passenger seat, his fingers buried inside you, his mouth pressed between your thighs, making you fall apart like the past week never even happened?

And why—why—did it still feel so fucking good?

You hated this. Hated him. Hated yourself more.

"That's it, baby. Moan for me." Heeseung groaned against your soaked folds, his voice low, dripping with hunger. His hands were everywhere—one gripping your thigh, keeping you spread open, the other palming your breast, his thumb lazily flicking over your nipple.

It felt so good, so maddeningly good, and that made you want to fucking cry.

"More—please, please." Your voice came out breathless, a plea wrapped in desperation.

Heeseung let out a low groan against your cunt, the vibration sending another shudder down your spine. "Can't get enough of you," he muttered, voice wrecked, needy—but you knew better than to believe it.

Because Heeseung never needed anyone.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, teasing strokes before dragging it down, tracing messy patterns over your entrance.

Then—his fingers. His hand slid down, tracing along your slit before thrusting inside suddenly, stretching you open, curling perfectly to hit that spot that made your legs tremble.

"Fuck—Heeseung!" You gasped, hips bucking, your back arching off the seat.

He was too good at this—too good at knowing your body, too good at making you fall apart, too good at breaking you down piece by piece until you forgot why you were mad, why you ever wanted to leave.

Your hands tangled in his hair, your fingers twisting at the roots as your legs shook. Heeseung groaned at the sting of your pull, pushing his fingers deeper, his tongue working faster, dragging you closer to the edge.

"Heeseung," you whined, voice high, breathless. "Getting close—please—"

And this was why you kept coming back. Because he knew you. Knew your body. Knew exactly how to ruin you.

Because the way he touched you—the way he kissed you, the way he fucked you—it felt too real.

Heeseung was right. He never made you any promises. Never gave you any reason to believe this was something more than sex.

You were just a dumb, stupid girl who kept misreading his actions. Who kept thinking she was special. But you weren't.

And yet, despite knowing all of that, despite the anger twisting in your chest, your fucking heart fluttered when he pulled himself up, his lips crashing into yours while his fingers still worked inside you. And you hated it.

Hated how he kissed you so slow, like he was savoring you.

Hated how he moved his fingers just right, drawing out every last wave of pleasure, dragging out your orgasm until you were crying against his mouth.

Hated how he made it feel intimate—

And hated yourself the most. Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how many times he ghosted you, ignored you, acted like you were nothing—

You knew you'd still come back.

Like a fucking idiot.

And you really were stupid. Because after everything—after the nights he spent inside you, after the way he kissed you like he meant it—Heeseung was still the same.

Still cocky. Still stupidly attractive as he leaned against the lockers in the university hallway, a lazy smirk on his lips, talking to some girl. Did it shock you? No. Did it hurt? Absolutely.

The lump in your throat grew heavier, thick with something you refused to name. You forced yourself to walk past him, shoulders stiff, steps quick—like he was nothing to you. Like last night, when he had you moaning his name in his passenger seat, never happened.

But he didn't even look at you. Didn't glance up. Didn't acknowledge you.

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you swallowed the sting.

Because that's what you were, right? Nothing.

Not his girlfriend. Not someone he cared about. Just another name on his list, another girl who meant nothing the second he zipped up his jeans.

And yet, you still hated the way your stomach twisted when the girl he was talking to giggled, leaning in closer. Hated the way he smirked, tilting his head like he was already picturing her naked. The same way he did to you.

Your chest ached.

You felt the bed shift, the mattress sinking under his weight. Then, warm hands—his hands—sliding over your waist, fingers pressing against your bare skin.

Soft lips ghosted along your neck.

"Who the fuck let you in?" Your voice was flat, uninterested, even as your grip on your phone tightened. You didn't turn to face him.

"Natty."

You scoffed. "Ha. I doubt it."

"Swear on my life, baby." Heeseung's voice was low, teasing, the way it always was when he wanted something.

You laughed, sarcastic.

"Missed you," he whined, arms tightening around you, his tongue flicking out to lick the sensitive skin just below your ear. That spot he knew drove you crazy.

"What happened to the girl you were talking to yesterday?" you asked, voice dripping in bitterness.  "Couldn't get into her pants?"

Heeseung laughed—laughed—like this was all some joke to him. His hands slipped under your shirt, palms gliding up your stomach, his breath hitching when he realized—

"Fuck, no bra?" He cursed under his breath, squeezing your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple.

Your body arch, you hated it, but still reacted.

"Nah," he continued, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. "Just... nothing compared to you."

You almost wanted to choke him. But instead, you swallowed the frustration bubbling in your chest and forced your voice to stay steady.

"Your sister told me you should come home this weekend." You changed the topic, ignoring his fingers still lazily squeezing your chest.

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh against your neck, completely unfazed.

"Huh? You guys always talk." He sounded amused, like this was cute to him.

You rolled your eyes. "Because you're not replying to their messages. Your mom worries about you."

His hands didn't stop. Of course, they didn't. He was still kneading, still playing with you, his thumbs rolling slow, lazy circles over your nipples as if you weren't trying to have a serious conversation.

He hummed in response, shifting slightly to lie back against your bed, tugging you against his chest.

"Hmm, okay." He finally said, completely casual.

You swallowed, your heart thudding stupidly at the way he pulled you in, the way he tucked you against him.

"Want to come with me?"

Your breath hitched.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him over your shoulder. A small smirk tugging at his lips as if he was already expecting your reaction.

Wide eyes. Stupidly hopeful heart. Fucking idiot.

"Why?" Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

Heeseung's fingers trailed down your stomach, dipping just under the waistband of your shorts, making your breath hitch.

"What do you mean why?" he murmured, lips brushing against your shoulder. "Wouldn't it be fun?"

You clenched your jaw, fingers curling into the bedsheets.

"Right," you muttered, looking away. "Just fun."

And of course, you still said yes. Because who wouldn't want an instant vacation?

At least, that's what you told yourself. That this was just a trip. Just an escape. Not another excuse to be near Heeseung. Not another way to keep fooling yourself.

So you ignored the nagging in your chest, ignored the way he carried your bag.

Ignored how fucking easy it was to slip into the illusion of being his as both of you stepped into the small, cozy house.

The moment the door swung open, a woman who looked exactly like him rushed forward, eyes bright, a tearful smile on her face.

"I missed you, my boy!" She practically tackled Heeseung, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that even he seemed a little surprised.

He scoffed but hugged her back, his usual lazy smirk softening just a little. "Ma, I told you I was gonna visit soon. Tell Haneul to stop bothering us."

You blinked, shifting awkwardly as the woman—his mother—finally pulled back, wiping at the corner of her eyes before her gaze fell on you.

And before you could react, she hugged you, too.

Your whole body stiffened. What the fuck.

"You must be the girl Haneul keeps talking about," she said warmly, stepping back just enough to study your face. "Is Heeseung treating you right?"

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You had no idea how to respond to that.

Your eyes flickered to Heeseung, who had already dropped both of your bags onto the couch, watching you with a raised brow, completely unbothered.

You swallowed, forcing out a tight, awkward laugh.

"We're not actually together, madam." You admitted, your voice stiff, uncertain.

His mother blinked, the warmth in her eyes faltering just slightly. "Oh."

You could feel Heeseung's eyes on you, but you didn't dare look at him. Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shirt, heart hammering in your chest.

And then, his mother smiled. Soft. Knowing. "I see."

You spent your days with his family wearing a smile, pretending it didn't hurt to exist in this space that wasn't really yours.

His sister, Haneul, was a breath of fresh air—constantly chattering about life, relationships, and the latest dramas, seamlessly pulling you into conversations that felt easy. She told you how glad she was that you were here, that someone like you was easy to talk to, unlike her emotionally constipated brother.

"Heeseung doesn't get it," she had said with a playful eye roll, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I swear, he's impossible to talk to sometimes. But you... I can tell you actually listen."

Her words made something warm stir in your chest.

His mother, on the other hand, couldn't stop talking about him—stories of him as a child, wild and reckless, stubborn and free.

"You should've seen him," she laughed, eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "Always climbing trees, always getting himself into trouble. One time, he fell and scraped up his entire knee, but do you think he cried? No. He just looked at me and said, 'It doesn't hurt, Ma,' even though his leg was bleeding like crazy."

His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Stupid boy still complains like hell when he stubs his toe, though."

You laughed along, your chest tightening as you glanced at Heeseung, waiting to see how he would react to their teasing. But he only sighed, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

Later, at the sea, you sat on the warm sand, toes buried in the grains, watching the waves crash against the shore. But your eyes weren't on the water. They were on him.

Heeseung was playing with his younger cousins, his laughter echoing through the salty air as he ran across the sand, chasing after them with an easy, boyish grin you had never seen before.

His usual cocky, indifferent mask was gone. No teasing smirks. No smug glances. No careless words designed to keep you at a distance.

You watched as he scooped up one of the kids, tossing them playfully over his shoulder while they shrieked in laughter. Heeseung's eyes crinkled at the corners, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he spun them around before dropping them gently back onto the sand.

He was so different.

This version of him—the one who smiled without arrogance, who laughed without restraint, who looked so effortlessly warm and real—was a version you had never been allowed to see before.

Then, as if feeling your stare, his gaze flicked up to meet yours.

Your breath caught.

His lips curled into a familiar smirk, the mask slipping back into place, and suddenly, he was walking toward you.

Your pulse spiked.

Oh, fuck no.

You scrambled to stand, to put distance between you before he could ruin you any further, but you had barely taken two steps when strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking you off the ground.

"Heeseung!" you shrieked, kicking your feet as he lifted you effortlessly, his grip firm.

He laughed, breath warm against your ear. "Where do you think you're going, huh?"

Your stomach twisted.

You should be mad—and you were—but the way he held you, the way he pressed his forehead against your temple as he spun you around, made something deep inside you crumble.

"Put me down, you asshole!" You squirmed, trying to sound pissed, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your ribs.

But Heeseung only grinned, holding you tighter.

"Not a chance, baby."

As the days of your so-called vacation slipped by, you found yourself in Heeseung's bed, again, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting shadows across his face.

Both of you lay tangled in the sheets, talking, laughing—about nothing, about everything.

You stared at the ceiling, heart pounding a little too fast, stomach twisting a little too tight.

Was it casual for the both of you to stay up until 4 AM, talking shit about the people you hated, exchanging knowing glances as you made fun of your professors, the fake smiles of people you both barely tolerated?

Was it casual to hear him laugh—really laugh—not that cocky, arrogant chuckle, but something softer?

Was it casual that he traced lazy patterns on your bare thigh while he talked?

One second, you were talking. The next, his lips were on yours, hungry, as if he couldn't help himself.

What was supposed to be one last fuck before sleep turned into something more, something too much. The way he touched you was different tonight, his fingers coaxing sounds from you you didn't even recognize as your own. The way he fucked you was relentless, teasing, overwhelming, pushing you past your limits until you squirted—until you were too tired to move, too weak to even change the sheets.

So you stayed there. In the mess of it all.

The damp sheets clinging to your skin, the scent of sex still lingering in the air, the weight of him pressed against you.

His arms draped lazily around your waist, pulling you close. His head resting on your chest, his breath warm, steady, as he slept so soundly—like he didn't just ruin you all over again. Like this wasn't killing you inside.

You lay there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the way his fingers twitched in his sleep, the way his breathing hitched slightly before evening out again.

On the last day of your stay, the two of you sat at Heeseung's childhood hideout—a small, secluded clearing behind his house, nestled between overgrown trees and old memories he never talked about. The sky was dark, the moon barely peeking through the leaves, and the only sounds were the distant hum of cicadas and the soft crackle of burning cigarettes between your fingers.

Heeseung exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his head tilted back.

"I hate my father for always shouting," he muttered, his voice flat, detached.

You watched the cigarette between your fingers, tapping off the ash, not saying anything. Just listening.

"My mother always tolerated him. Always crying, always forcing a smile, pretending he didn't just spit the ugliest words at her."

You nodded, silent, because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?

"She wasn't any better, though." He let out a humorless chuckle, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. "I love her, but I can't fucking stand how she talks about everything I should be doing. Like I'm still some little kid who needs to be told how to live my life."

You took a drag, the bitter taste settling heavy on your tongue.

"That's why I'm not fond of visiting this place."

You hummed, watching the way his fingers twitched slightly as he took another drag, like this conversation was pulling things out of him he wasn't used to sharing.

"Your sister misses you, y'know." You finally spoke, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "She told me she kinda hates you for leaving her alone."

That made him pause. His lips parted slightly, brows furrowing, before he shook his head with a laugh, blowing out another cloud. "God, I forgot you two are close."

You smiled faintly. "We always talk on the phone. She said she found me through some Facebook post where your arms were around me. She probably assumed we were friends and added me. Then the first thing she messaged me was, 'Tell your ugly-ass boyfriend to text me, or I'm disowning him.'"

Heeseung let out a real laugh at that, shaking his head. "She actually called me an ugly dick once."

"She's not wrong." You snickered, inhaling the last of your cigarette before pulling it away. "Shit, that fast?" You huffed, flicking away the short remains.

"Come try mine."

Before you could react, Heeseung took one last drag, then leaned in, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers warm against your skin.

You froze as his face came closer, his lips parting slightly, and then—he exhaled.

The smoke passed between you, warm and heady, sinking into your lungs as your lips hovered inches from his.

His nose bumped yours, eyes dark and lidded, waiting.

Your mouth opened, your lips brushing against his, and then—he kissed you. Tilting his head, as he deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours, tasting of smoke.

As you broke the kiss, your fingers ghosted over his, plucking the cigarette from his grasp. You kept your eyes locked on his, refusing to look away.

You took a slow drag, letting the smoke settle in your lungs before exhaling, the faint haze lingering between you.

"I love you, Heeseung."

The words left your mouth like a gunshot.

His smile faltered.

"Not just love that wants to fuck." Your grip on the cigarette tightened. "I want to date you. Take me on a date. Buy me flowers. Be my boyfriend."

Heeseung just stared at you.

"Let's go back." No hesitation, no acknowledgment, like you hadn't just laid your heart out in front of him.

He stood up, grabbing your hand as if nothing had happened, pulling you up without meeting your eyes.

"Heeseung, I love you." Your voice was firmer now, but he walked faster, avoiding it, avoiding you.

Your stomach twisted. Your fingers curled around his wrist, trying to stop him from running away.

"Heeseung, I said I love you." You said it louder this time, forcing him to hear it, forcing him to acknowledge the words that hung between you like a curse.

Heeseung let out a sharp exhale, pushing the house door open.

His parents looked up as you both entered, his mother smiling sweetly.

"Oh, I was just about to cook your favorite—" she started.

"I'm gonna go shower," he cut her off, already heading toward the stairs.

"Okay, come down after," his mother replied, still warm, still gentle, still unaware of the way her son was running from you.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile at them before following him upstairs, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Heeseung entered his room without a word, shrugging off his jacket, then his shirt. You watched as he stripped without hesitation, his toned back flexing before he disappeared into the bathroom.

"Heeseung, say something." Your voice cracked,

He turned on the shower, stepping under the stream of water, not even looking at you as he finally spoke.

"I'm gonna take a bath. It's either you leave—" He finally turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours, voice dropping lower. "—or I'll be fucking you."

Your breath caught.

There it was.

The only thing he could offer you.

Your fingers trembled at your sides. The ache in your chest was unbearable, clawing at your ribs, threatening to break you apart.

You should leave. You should. You should turn around, walk out, let this be the moment you finally let him go.

Your vision blurred. You felt the hot sting of tears slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

Fuck it.

Before you could think, before you could let the pain settle, you reached for the hem of your shirt, tearing it over your head. Then your shorts, your underwear—every piece of clothing stripped away, tossed carelessly onto the floor.

When you looked up, Heeseung was staring.

The steam from the shower curled around him, water sliding down his bare chest, dripping from his hair. His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of you.

You stepped forward, your skin meeting the warmth of the bathroom air, your bare feet silent against the tile. Heeseung didn't move, didn't pull away as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his.

His skin was hot, wet from the water, his breath shaky as your lips brushed against his.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers slipping into his damp hair as you tugged him down, your lips brushing over his—soft at first, then deeper, needier.

Your toes curled against the cool tile, your body tilting, stretching to reach him, but he was too fucking tall.

He let out a quiet chuckle at your struggle, hands sliding down to your waist, gripping tight as he adjusted, leaning lower to meet you, kissing you back.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his tongue tangled with yours, deep and slow, tasting of heat. Your body burned as his hands roamed freely.

His fingers slid up, trailing to your breasts, squeezing, kneading, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, arching against him.

Your hand slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his hardened cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

Heeseung groaned, his grip on your breast tightening for a moment before his head dropped against your shoulder, breath heavy, unsteady.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice wrecked, his hips twitching slightly into your touch.

Your lips curled, satisfied, pressing kisses along his jawline, teasing nips along his skin. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath your lips, the way his breathing hitched as you kissed your way lower, lower.

Until you were kneeling in front of him.

Face to face with his cock, thick and throbbing, precum already dripping from the flushed tip.

His hand curled into your hair, you look at him with your eyes before slowly putting his tip on your mouth. Then—slowly—you parted your lips, letting the flushed tip press against your tongue before taking him into your mouth.

Heeseung groaned, his grip tightening, his hips giving a slight, involuntary jerk forward as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper. The warm water from the shower dripped over both of you, rivulets sliding down his abs, over the flex of his thighs.

Your tongue dragged along his shaft, tracing every ridge, every vein, before pressing flat against the underside as you swallowed him further. His breath came out in a shudder, his jaw clenched as he watched you—watched the way your lips stretched around him, the way you let him slide deeper, let him use your mouth the way he wanted.

His hips began to move, slow at first, then rougher.

"Fuck—" He sucked in a sharp breath, his voice wrecked as you took all of him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You choked, eyes watering, but you didn’t pull away.

One of your hands slipped between your own legs, fingers pressing against your aching cunt, rubbing slow circles over your clit as you lost yourself in the mix of pain and pleasure.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered down, and the sight of you touching yourself while sucking his cock had his restraint snapping.

"Shit, you’re too good for me." His voice was nothing but a rough whisper, barely audible over the sound of the water hitting tile.

His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, forcing you to take all of him, tears spilling at the corners of your eyes. He stopped suddenly, backing away. 

You gasped for air, lips swollen, throat raw. But before you could process the loss, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet.

Your back hit the cold, slippery wall as he spun you around, his chest pressing flush against you, trapping you there.

The heat between you was suffocating.

You moaned as his cock slid between your thighs, not inside you yet—just teasing, just rubbing against your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness. He moved slow, dragging himself along your entrance, letting you feel every inch before he pushed in. 

You gasped, your nails scraping against the wet tile as he filled you completely, stretching you, stealing the air from your lungs. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you still as he buried himself inside you to the hilt.

"Fuck—" Heeseung panted against your shoulder, his breath hot, ragged, his body shuddering at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

He started slow—savoring it, dragging it out, rolling his hips in deep, deliberate strokes that had you clenching around him, your legs trembling.

His pace quickened, his thrusts growing harder, needier, the sound of skin against skin mixing with your ragged moans. Your knees buckled, your body going weak, but his arm wrapped around you before you could collapse, pulling you closer.

Then, without warning, he hooked one arm under your thigh, lifting your leg, changing the angle.

You cried out his name, your head falling back against his shoulder as he slammed into you deeper, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"You sound so good moaning my name—fuck—but keep quiet for me, baby, hmm?" Heeseung whispered against your ear.

You tried—tried to muffle your moans, biting your lip so hard you nearly drew blood.

But when his hand slid up, fingers tweaking your nipple, and his other hand dipped lower to rub slow, cruel circles over your clit, you couldn’t hold back.

"C-close," you choked out, pressing your forehead against the wall, your body tightening around him. "Can I? Please, please—"

His fingers moved faster, his thrusts turning relentless, dragging you to the edge.

"Shh," he hushed, his free hand moving from your breast to cover your mouth, muffling the desperate sounds spilling from your lips.

Your orgasm ripped through you, your body trembling violently as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls fluttering around him as you came hard, legs shaking.

But Heeseung didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

He spun you around effortlessly, lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed you against the wall, thrusting up into you with reckless abandon.

You were whimpering, your body too sensitive, too raw—but the way his cock hit all the right spots had you falling apart all over again.

"Fuck, take it," Heeseung groaned, his grip on your hips bruising.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but feel.

Your hands slid into his wet hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pushed it back, forcing yourself to look at him—really look at him.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, his lips parted as he moaned your name.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, forcing his gaze onto you.

So close. So yours.

Then, with a sharp gasp, his hips stuttered, his cock twitching deep inside you.

And as your walls tightened around him once more, dragging him over the edge, his mouth met yours in a desperate, messy kiss, swallowing each other’s moans as he spilled inside you.

His grip on you tightened, his thrusts faltering, his body shuddering as he rode out his high.

You stayed close for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling in sync.

Heeseung let out a soft exhale before slowly lowering your feet to the ground, his hands slipping from your body.

You blinked up at him, searching for something—anything—in his face. But he was already turning away, reaching for the soap, brushing his hands over his own body as if nothing had just happened.

A pang of disappointment settled deep in your chest.

Your thighs trembled, his release still dripping out of you, and without thinking, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. Holding onto him like he wouldn’t slip away. 

But he froze.

And then—slowly, carefully, deliberately—he peeled your arms off of him.

Your throat tightened.

Heeseung didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at you. Instead, he grabbed the soap again, rubbing it between his palms before sliding his hands over your body—cleaning you.

You wanted to say something. Wanted to break through whatever invisible wall had gone up between you.

But the only sound was the running water, washing everything away.

That night, you sat beside Haneul at dinner, forcing a smile, forcing yourself to act normal even though everything inside you was crumbling.

Heeseung didn’t look at you. Instead, he shoveled rice into his mouth, nodding along as his parents talked.

You forced yourself to eat, each bite turning to sawdust in your mouth. Forced yourself to laugh at his father’s jokes. Forced yourself to swallow the bitterness burning in your throat.

And when it was time to leave, Haneul hugged you tightly, her shoulders shaking as she clung to you.

"I’m gonna miss you so much," she sniffled, pressing her face into your shoulder.

You hugged her back, blinking rapidly, trying not to cry too.

You felt so loved in this house—by everyone except the one person you wanted it from the most.

The train ride back was worse.

Heeseung sat beside you, but he never looked at you. Never spoke.

It was like you were nothing more than a stranger sitting next to him.

You swallowed the ache in your chest and slowly lifted your hand, brushing your fingers over his, searching for something—anything.

His eyes flickered down, annoyance flashing across his face as he pulled his hand away like your touch burned him.

You felt your stomach drop. You turned your head, staring out the window, your fingers curling into your lap as you fought the stupid tears stinging the back of your eyes.

But at least you confessed, right? At least you let your feelings slip through the cracks. As long as Heeseung kept coming back to you, it had to mean something.

Right?

The following days were harder.

Because you were the one who kept coming back.

You were the one who kept bothering him, knocking on his door late at night, spreading your legs for him just so he would let you stay.

You were the one whispering soft "I love yous" against his skin, hoping—praying—he’d say it back.

But he never did. And every time you tried to reach for him—tried to hold him, tried to kiss him just because, not just when he was fucking you—he would sigh, irritated, pulling away with that same tired look in his eyes.

"Go bother someone else."

But you still stayed. Because you told yourself that this was enough. That loving him, even like this, was enough. That if you gave him more time, if you loved him hard enough, he would eventually love you back.

But then—why did it feel so awful?

So fucking awful knowing that he was only good to you when he wanted something?

So fucking awful when you reached for him, only to be pushed away?

So fucking awful when he sighed every time you whispered "I love you," like you had ruined the moment?

You kept crying at night.

At first, it was quiet—silent tears soaking into your pillow, muffled sobs that you convinced yourself were just temporary. But the more the days stretched on, the worse it got. The exhaustion, the emptiness, the way everything felt so fucking heavy.

You were barely sleeping. Barely eating.

By the time you dragged yourself to class, you were nothing more than a walking corpse—a ghost of yourself, barely functioning, barely holding it together.

Julie and Natty tried to pull you out of it. They dragged you to cafés, talked about mindless things, gossiped about the latest drama, hoping it would distract you.

But nothing worked. Your mind was always somewhere else. On him.

And when that didn’t help, when you couldn’t sit still in a crowded café pretending you weren’t falling apart, you found yourself outside. Leaning against a streetlamp, standing in the corner of an alley, a cigarette dangling from your lips as you smoked, staring blankly at the city around you.

You had never been much of a smoker before. But now, it was routine. Now, it was something to do when you didn’t know what else to do.

Because Heeseung wasn’t in his dorm. Because Heeseung wasn’t texting you back.

You stared at your phone, debating whether or not to message him again—just one more time, just to see where he was, just to make sure he wasn’t with someone else.

But you already knew the answer. Sunghoon told you he had been partying. Of course, he was.

Drinking, dancing, probably fucking someone else—living his best fucking life while you were here, wasting away in your own misery.

You were miserable, weren’t you? Pathetic.

In love with a guy who never gave a shit about you, who only saw you as another body count—another name in his phone.

Fuck him.

"You need to get over this, babe," Julie said, dragging you into the mall, her fingers gripping your wrist like you might try to run.

"Stop acting like your whole life revolves around some asshole." Natty huffed, shoving a pile of clothes into your arms. "Try something new. Get a haircut. Get a piercing. Do something instead of moping around like this."

So you did.

You let them drag you from store to store, let them pick out outfits you barely looked at. You even sat through a piercing appointment, letting them stab metal into your skin—a new helix, a capital piercing, even one in your septum.

But none of it helped. Not really.

You still looked like someone who had stopped caring.

Your hair had grown wavier, messier, tangled from nights spent tossing and turning in a bed that still smelled like him. Your makeup was smudged from crying too much, sleeping too little.

And now—here you were. Sitting in a restroom stall, your fingers fumbling with another cigarette, the cold metal of your piercings pressing against your skin as you exhaled shakily, trying not to break down again.

But the tears came anyway.

You curled over yourself, palm covering your face, inhaling deep, shaky breaths as the nicotine burned down your throat. Why him? Why did you let yourself get so lost in someone who only reached for you when it was convenient?

Why did you still miss him—even now?

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to push the thoughts away—

"Okay, okay, I'll send you the links we need to order. Stop being stupid and listen to me! It’s a birthday party, okay? Not a damn Halloween—God."

Your head snapped up. A voice that is sharp and masculine.

Wait—

Did you just walk into the men’s restroom?

"Agh, what the fuck, it reeks of cigarettes in here."

Your stomach dropped.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to put out the cigarette as quickly as possible, waving away the lingering smoke. The last thing you needed was some random guy judging you for being an emotional wreck in the bathroom.

You waited. Listening.

When silence stretched, you assumed he was gone.

But the second you stepped out of the stall— You froze.

And so did he.

Standing at the sink, washing his hands, was a guy you had never seen before. His dark hair was down, strands still damp from the rain outside. His skin was pale, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. His nose was sharp, lips plump and pink, his hooded eyes watching you with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then, his gaze flickered to the restroom sign by the door.

Then back to you.

He grabbed a napkin, drying his hands before picking up his phone, ending the call mid-conversation.

"Are you a trans man?"

Your face burned.

"No!" You blurted out quickly, biting your lip in embarrassment. "I—I’m sorry, I thought this was the female restroom, and—uh—sorry about the smell."

The guy in front of you let out a small, amused hum, his lips twitching, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he dug through his bag, fingers searching for something until he finally pulled out a small candy, offering it to you with an outstretched palm.

"Here. Eat this."

You blinked, staring at him.

"Not judging or anything," he continued, shrugging, "but cigarettes smell disgusting in your mouth. What if there’s an emergency and you need to kiss someone?"

A small, breathless laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"There’s no someone," you muttered, taking the candy from his hand. The moment it touched your tongue, the sharp sweetness cut through the bitter taste of nicotine.

The guy tilted his head, watching you with a slight smirk before rummaging through his bag again. A second later, he held out a small travel-sized bottle.

"You need perfume?"

You frowned. "Do I smell that bad?"

"Hey, I’m just offering," he said, grinning.

You sighed but took it anyway, spraying a little on your wrist before rubbing it against your neck. The light, citrusy scent replaced the stale stench of smoke.

Both of you walked out of the restroom together, passing by an older man who had been about to step inside. The second he saw you, his eyes widened in horror, and he muttered something under his breath while making the sign of the cross.

"God forgive these teens," the old man whispered, shaking his head as he entered the restroom.

The guy beside you rolled his eyes. "Drama queen."

You laughed, and he turned his head slightly, studying your face.

"See you later," he muttered before walking away, but then he hesitated for just a second, throwing a look over his shoulder. "Oh, and don’t smoke."

Soon enough, you were right back where you always were.

In his dorm. In his bed. In his arms, like nothing had changed.

The second you saw Heeseung, you collapsed onto his bed, clinging to him, hugging him tight like you hadn’t been falling apart for the past few days.

"Where have you been?" you asked, burying your face into his chest.

You felt his body shift slightly as he looked down at you, eyes scanning your face.

"What happened to you?" His voice was unreadable.

His gaze flickered to the piercings on your ears, your new septum, the slight dark circles beneath your eyes that no amount of concealer could fully hide.

Suddenly, you felt exposed.

"O-oh," you stammered, reaching up to tug at your hair. "I got piercings… out of boredom. Do they look good?"

Then, Heeseung’s eyes dropped back to his phone, completely ignoring your question.

The air shifted. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to swallow it down.

So, instead, you talked. Told him about the past few days, about nothing and everything, about all the things you wished he had cared enough to ask.

And just like always—it ended the same way.

Him, thrusting into you like he needed you to break.

Your nails, clawing at his back like you needed to hold on.

Your legs, wrapped around his waist like you were scared he would disappear if you let go.

Your body, begging for something your heart already knew you would never have.

"I love you," you whispered into his ear, voice trembling, breath shaky.

Heeseung’s movements slowed for half a second.

You held onto that second like it meant something.

"You know it’s not just casual for me," you whispered again, pressing your lips to his shoulder, desperate for him to understand. "I feel it. I know you do too."

And then—he slipped his hand away from your body. The loss of warmth was instant, suffocating, unbearable.

"Fuck, here we go again," Heeseung muttered under his breath, exhaling sharply.

You swallowed, suddenly cold, suddenly empty.

"Did you really not feel anything?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. "How do you keep coming back if it’s nothing?"

He ran a hand over his face, groaning in frustration.

"God, because your pussy is good!" His voice snapped, sharp and cruel, piercing straight through you. "You’re being so fucking clingy, it’s pathetic! I don’t want a fucking romantic relationship with you! I just want to fuck! How long are you gonna make me repeat that?!"

"What about the times we cuddle?" Your voice cracked. "The way you take care of me after? You even invited me to meet your family! Was that all just—casual? Just fucking?! How long are you going to deny this?!"

Heeseung’s eyes flashed.

"Deny?!" He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Do you think any of that was special? I was just treating you with basic fucking human decency! Stop being so fucking delusional!"

The words hit harder than a slap. This was dumb love. This was pathetic love.

This was you, being fucking stupid.

Because even after all this, even after every horrible thing he had just said—you still loved him.

And he still treated you the same.

"Fuck, I miss those days that you were feisty and wild, not this annoying bitch who cry about everything."

Your vision blurred. You barely felt yourself move as you ripped yourself from his bed, scrambling to collect your clothes, your hands shaking so violently you could barely pull your shirt over your head.

You just needed to leave. Needed to breathe.

By the time you reached the door, your entire body was numb.

The only sound was the sharp echo of your footsteps against the floor as you stormed out of his dorm, not daring to look back.

Sunghoon was in the kitchen when you passed, leaning against the counter, a drink in his hand. His head lifted slightly at the sight of you—disheveled, eyes red, breathing uneven.

You ran. Ran until your lungs burned, until the cold air stung your skin, until the only thing you could hear was the echo of your own footsteps against the empty streets.

And then you screamed. Loud. Raw.

Kicking a nearby trash can with all your strength, watching as it toppled over, spilling its contents onto the pavement.

You wanted to rip yourself apart. Wanted to tear out the part of you that still loved him.

By the time you stumbled into a small convenience store, your body was trembling—anger, exhaustion, heartbreak—it all blurred into one.

You didn’t even look at the shelves. Your hands reached straight for the pack of cigarettes, slamming it onto the counter.

"Not getting anything else, ma’am?"

The voice made you freeze. Your gaze lifted, meeting a pair of soft, knowing eyes behind the register.

Oh.

The same guy from before. The one who had given you candy in the restroom.

Your eyes flickered to his name tag.

Sunoo.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, careful, like he could see right through you.

You swallowed, your throat dry. "You told me not to smoke, but here I am buying." You forced a smile, but it felt fake, hollow—like you were trying to convince yourself that you weren’t falling apart.

Sunoo didn’t look judgmental. He just tilted his head slightly, watching you.

"It’s okay." He shrugged. "It’s not healthy, but if that’s what you need to cope, then let yourself be. I just said that before because, well… I don’t think smoking is good for you."

You let out a small breath, setting the pack aside. "Well, what do you suggest?"

Sunoo hummed, tapping his chin in thought. "Maybe cutting your hair? Adding another piercing? Listening to music, crocheting, doing your makeup, reading books, watching movies—there’s a lot you could do instead."

You blinked.

"You really think cutting my hair is gonna fix this mess?" You gestured vaguely at yourself.

"No," he said, grinning. "But it’s a start."

You laughed. It was small. Short. You reached for a pack of bubble gum instead, placing it on the counter. "I’ll take note of that. Just punch this in instead."

Sunoo smiled, ringing up your item. "I’m Sunoo, by the way. If you ever need someone to talk to, I can give you my number."

You hesitated. And then—you pulled out your phone. Because God knows you needed it.

Turns out, Sunoo was one year younger than you—a sophomore at your university, but an irregular student, which explained why you had never crossed paths before.

And somehow, in the span of a few weeks, he became the one person you could be completely honest with. You told him everything. Everything about Heeseung.

How you loved him stupidly, blindly, recklessly. How he used you, broke you, ignored you—but you still kept coming back.

Sunoo never judged. Never told you you were dumb for loving the wrong person. He just listened. And when you cried, he let you.

Sometimes, he would visit your dorm just to sit with you, listening as you let it all out.

You tried not to feel guilty about dumping all your burdens on him, but every time you apologized, he just waved you off.

"It’s fine," he said, "I’d rather listen than see you destroy yourself over someone who doesn’t deserve you."

And maybe that’s what finally pushed you forward. What finally gave you the courage to do what you should’ve done a long time ago.

You blocked Heeseung’s number.

At first, it made your chest feel tight, like you had just slammed a door shut on something that had been part of you for too long.

But as the days passed, the feeling of relief started to outweigh the ache.

You even made a bigger decision.

You moved. Packed up your things and transferred to a new dorm—closer to Sunoo, further from Heeseung.

When you told Natty, she cried, whining dramatically about how you were replacing her.

But deep down, she understood. She understood that if you stayed, if you kept yourself in the same routine, the same dorm, the same hallways that led you back to him, you’d never really escape.

So she helped you pack, helped you move, hugged you so tightly before you left, whispering, "You deserve better."

You changed. Not overnight. Not all at once.

But slowly, little by little, you found yourself again.

The clothes you used to think weren’t your style? You started to love them.

Sunoo helped you with your hair, trimming it, dyeing it a new color every week just because you could.

"New hair, new era," he declared, dragging you into the bathroom with a towel around your shoulders. "We’re bleaching this shit."

You let him. Because why the fuck not? It was just hair. It would grow back, just like you would.

You started going out more. Not to drown yourself in cigarettes or alcohol, not to forget, but to exist again.

You filled your days with movies, books, stupid little hobbies that made you feel something.

And little by little—you learned how to breathe again.

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"Too late, babe."

Sunoo laughed, gripping your hand as you sat in the piercing studio, white-knuckled and nervous as hell.

"I swear to God, if I pass out, you better not record me."

"Mmm… no promises." He smirked, already holding up his phone, camera locked on you.

You groaned, gripping his hand like you were giving birth as the piercer prepped the needle.

Your heart pounded. You had watched so many videos of girls fainting from navel piercings. It was supposed to hurt like hell, right?

"Okay, deep breath in," the piercer said.

You inhaled. And then you felt the pain, the sharp stabbing pain.

"FUCK, IT HURTS!" You screamed, throwing your head against Sunoo’s chest.

He cackled, arms wrapping around you dramatically, rocking you back and forth. "You’re doing amazing, sweetie."

His other hand? Filming.

The needle went through. Your stomach tightened.

The world spun around you and just like that, you fainted. 

When you woke up, the first thing you heard was Sunoo’s wheezing laughter.

"Dude." He was crying, clutching his stomach, shoving his phone in your face. "I got the whole thing. You looked like you died for a second."

You groaned, pushing him away, only to catch sight of your new silver barbell piercing your navel.

…Holy shit.

You sat up, poking at it carefully. "Fuck, that was traumatic," you muttered.

"But look at you now," Sunoo grinned, helping you stand. "A hot, bad bitch. I mean, you already were, but now you’ve got a belly ring to prove it."

You rolled your eyes. "This better not get infected, or I’m haunting your ass."

Sunoo winked, linking his arm through yours. "Worth it, babe."

People stared. Everywhere you and Sunoo went, heads turned.

And who could blame them?

Sunoo? A walking crayon, decked out in loud colors, funky sunglasses, and accessories layered on top of accessories. 

And then there was you. A full-on emo resurrection—black on black on black, nails painted, piercings gleaming, boots stomping against the pavement.

The two of you together?

You looked like complete opposites, but somehow, it worked. Sunoo owned the rainbow, and you owned the night.

"People are staring." You whispered as another group of girls side-eyed you both, whispering amongst themselves.

"Good." Sunoo grinned. "Let them stare. They wish they were us."

Healing cost a lot. Like, a lot. You hadn’t realized how expensive self-care actually was.

But fuck, it felt good. Manicures. Hair dye. Jewelry. Perfume. Clothes you never thought you’d wear.

You spent shamelessly, like you were trying to buy yourself back, piece by piece.

And maybe you were.

Because with every little change, every small act of putting yourself first, you started feeling lighter.

The wind tugged at your short bangs as you sat on the bench, silver headphones snug over your ears, blocking out the world.

Your fingers moved over your notebook, writing something important—or maybe not important at all—but either way, it kept your hands busy. Kept your mind quiet.

"Holy shit."

The words were barely a whisper, but the sound of your name following after made your stomach drop. Your brow furrowed, fingers tensing against the page. With a sigh, you slid your headphones to the side, glancing up.

And that’s when you saw them.

Sunghoon. Jake. Some other guy you didn’t care about.

And behind them, standing slightly apart—

Heeseung.

Your throat went dry.

"Is that you?! Holy fuck." Sunghoon gasped, eyes wide, his gaze flickering over your appearance like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

You swallowed, feeling uncomfortably exposed under their stares.

"Long time no see," Jake chimed in, taking a seat beside you without invitation. "You’re not attending parties anymore."

"You look quite different," he added, voice slow, dragging his gaze over you—your ears, your nose, your shirt—lingering a little too long on the details.

"She became an emo, bro!" One of them laughed, the word emo rolling off their tongue like an insult.

"Yeah, but she looks totally hot." Jake grinned, elbowing Sunghoon with a chuckle.

You clenched your jaw. The way they were talking about you like you weren’t even here.

The way his eyes hadn’t left you since the moment you looked up.

You hadn’t looked at him once. But you felt him.

"You moved dorms."

You finally looked at him. And regretted it immediately.

Heeseung stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, staring straight at you.

His gaze was unreadable, but his jaw was tight, his eyes dark, scanning you in a way that made something deep in your chest twist. Fuck this.

You pulled your headphones back on, drowning him out as you started shoving your things into your bag.

"Man, she’s back to being feisty. Heeseung’s gonna like her again."

The words were casual, amused, careless, but they made your blood fucking boil. Like you were some challenge. Some toy for Heeseung to get bored of, then chase again once you pulled away.

Fuck them for thinking you’d ever let yourself go through that again. Your movements were sharp as you snapped your notebook shut, yanking your bag over your shoulder.

You stood up. Didn’t look at them. Didn’t say anything. You just turned on your heel, ready to leave.

But before you could take a step, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Why the fuck did you move dorm? Why the fuck did you block me?"

His voice was sharp, tinged with anger and frustration.

You ripped your arm away, glaring at him like his touch had burned you. Heeseung felt his chest tighten at the way you looked at him.

"Our last conversation answered that." You huffed, slinging your bag over your shoulder, walking away without looking back.

But of course, he followed. Ignoring the way his friends laughed behind him.

"Playing hard to get." One of them snickered. You didn’t even hesitate—you turned, raised your middle finger, and kept walking.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened.

"Fuck, that alone made you switch dorms?" His voice was sharper now, almost accusing. "Where are you staying? Why didn’t you tell me?"

You snapped.

"I don’t want any fucking contact with you anymore, Heeseung. Go to hell."

His steps faltered, eyes flickering across your face.

You had never talked to him like this before. Not when he ignored you. Not when he ghosted you. Not even when he broke you.

His fingers twitched.

Then—he moved faster.

Easily catching up, stepping in front of you, blocking your way.

"You told me you loved me, and now you’re acting like this?" You scoffed.

"And you have the fucking audacity to throw that in my face—when all you ever did was make me feel like shit?" Your laugh was bitter, broken, a sharp edge of something cruel underneath it.

"Yeah, Heeseung. I loved you." You spat the words like they disgusted you. His chest tightened.

"I loved you—so fucking much. Even when you treated me like I was nothing. Even when you acted like I didn’t exist until you were hard and lonely."

His lips parted. But you weren’t done.

"But I’m done. I’m fucking tired of this casual bullshit. I’m tired of pretending like this didn’t fucking break me. I don’t want you, I don’t need you, so do us both a favor—leave me the fuck alone and go find some other pussy to bury your dick in."

The words hit Heeseung like a gut punch, knocking the breath from his lungs before he could even process them. But the sting of your voice—sharp, raw, final—was nothing compared to what you did next.

You spat at his face.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

The warm, wet impact landed just below his cheekbone, sliding down his jaw, and Heeseung stood there, frozen in place, feeling the slow, humiliating trickle of it. It should’ve pissed him off. He should’ve been angry, should’ve sneered at you, should’ve thrown some cruel words back in your face just to get the last hit in.

But he couldn’t.

Because you didn’t stay long enough to see him break. Didn’t look back to see the way his entire world fucking shifted.

Didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, didn’t do any of the things he was used to. No regret, no second guessing, no lingering in the space between leaving and staying—just walking away.

That’s when he saw another man.

Heeseung watched, breath stuck in his throat, as the man approached you, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, like it was natural, like he had been doing it all along. Then, before Heeseung could even begin to comprehend what was happening, the man pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours. Right in front of him.

Heeseung’s stomach twisted into a tight, ugly knot. His vision blurred at the edges, not from tears, fuck that, but from something far worse—a feeling he didn’t want to name. His hands clenched at his sides, nails pressing deep into his palms as he tried, really fucking tried, to convince himself that he didn’t care.

And what made it worse—what made his entire body fucking ache—was the way you let that man touch you, let him kiss you, let him hold you. 

Like you weren’t thinking about Heeseung at all.

You looked happy.

Not forced. Not pretending. Not putting on some fake smile to get through the moment. Genuinely happy. Like you had been set free. Like the months you spent wrapped up in his sheets, tangled in his arms, breaking apart at his hands had been nothing more than a phase—a mistake you had already wiped clean from your memory.

Sunoo turned slightly, just enough for his gaze to land on Heeseung.

The look in his eyes wasn’t smug. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t the expression of a man who had stolen something from someone else. 

Heeseung hated him for it.

His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, but he forced his body to stay still, forced himself not to move, not to react, not to pull you away like he so desperately wanted to. He had no fucking right to do that. You had made your choice, and for the first time in his entire life, Heeseung was the one being left behind.

This wasn’t some game anymore.

This wasn’t like all the times before, when you would tell him you were done, but then come crawling back the second he called. This wasn’t like the fights in his dorm, when you would cry and yell and break your own fucking heart, only to kiss him breathless later that night.

This was real. You had actually left.

And the worst part was, you weren’t hurting.

You weren’t looking over your shoulder, weren’t hesitating at the door, weren’t giving him a single chance to fix this. You were just gone.

And Heeseung had never felt so fucking lost. He told himself it didn’t matter.

You were just another girl.

He could go out tomorrow, find someone new, wipe you from his body the same way he had done with every other girl before you. This was nothing. You were nothing.

Then why—

Why the fuck did his chest feel so tight?

Why did he feel like he had just been ripped open from the inside out?

He lifted a hand to wipe his face, expecting to feel the lingering wetness from where you had spit on him, but instead—he felt something else.

A single tear, slipping down his cheek.

He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head at the memory—at all the things he told you, the rules he set, the lines he swore he’d never cross.

Was it ever really casual?

perm taglist: @won4me @ikaw-at-ikaw, @kristynaaah, @fancypeacepersona @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual

[fruitjoos]

It happened in middle school. The moment that loser muttered, “It was just a prank,” you knew—you were unlovable. Your existence was nothing more than cheap laughs and cruel jokes for others to toss around. It didn’t matter that for the next four years, the kindest souls would practically worship the ground you walked on. You never believed them. Not again.

In your opinion, all men were stupid. That included your small circle of friends from your freshman year at Stanford. You could understand why Tashi Duncan broke up with him. Honestly, she was the epitome of class. What knocked her screws loose enough to let him tear through her perfect little life in the first place, you had no idea. You watched as she and Art closed the nonexistent space Patrick had left behind, moving as if he had never existed. Like they didn’t care that he ever had.

It was sad.

Almost as pathetic as Patrick glueing himself to your side for the next eighteen months.

Whenever he visited campus, he followed you on quick grocery runs, camped out in your dorm while you studied, and sometimes, you’d come back to find your CD collection arranged alphabetically, your bed neatly made, or your laundry folded on your desk chair. You felt bad. So bad. You pitied him.

Just as you were settling into bed, ready to crack open your notes, he knocked. You let him in, watching as he shuffled through his bag, raving about some movie he’d bought for the Friday night tradition you’d fallen into.

“Can’t do movie night tonight,” you said, flipping through your textbook. You had a test on Monday.

You could tell he was falling for you. But you wouldn’t budge. And he noticed.

Yet instead of realizing you weren’t interested, he convinced himself he was the problem.

Patrick never said it out loud, but you could see it—the way his shoulders tensed whenever you brushed him off, the way his excitement dulled whenever you told him you were busy. He never complained, never asked for more than what you were willing to give. Instead, he tried harder.

He stayed longer.

He became a fixture in your life without you even realizing it.

At first, it was convenient. Having someone around who knew how you took your coffee, who grabbed your favorite snacks without asking, who could exist in your space without demanding too much from you. But then, it became exhausting. Because Patrick wasn’t just there—he was waiting. For what, you weren’t sure.

Maybe for you to finally look at him the way you once looked at Art. Maybe for you to say yes instead of I can’t tonight. Maybe for you to admit that all the time you spent together meant something more than just habit.

But it didn’t.

At least, not to you.

And yet, every Friday, he still showed up with a new movie. Every weekend, he still found a reason to stay. And every time you let him in, you knew—he was getting his hopes up for something that was never going to happen.

One Friday, just like every other, Patrick made his way to your dorm, a new DVD tucked under his arm. He was mid knock when he heard your voice—laughing, casual, the way you always were when you didn’t think he was around.

“He’s just so clingy.”

Patrick’s hand froze inches from the door.

“Like, it’s kind of pathetic at this point. He follows me everywhere.”

“He doesn’t have anything else going on,” Art chimed in, ever the instigator.

Tashi hummed in agreement. “I mean… it’s sad. He needs a life.”

Patrick didn’t stick around. His stomach twisted, embarrassment curdling in his chest like spoiled milk. He turned on his heel and walked away, the DVD still clutched in his hand.

You thought he was clingy? You thought he had nothing else going on?

He didn’t know what hurt more—the fact that you said it, or the fact that you were right.

That night, he didn’t text. He didn’t show up the next day either.

For the first time in eighteen months, he tried to figure out what his life looked like without you at the center of it.

Tennis. He could go back to that. Try to get on the ATP tour again, even if it meant swallowing his pride. If that didn’t work, maybe he’d get a job—something, anything to make it seem like he wasn’t just orbiting around you, waiting for some kind of purpose.

Because apparently, waiting on you made him pathetic.

Patrick tried. He really did.

He filled out applications, half heartedly scrolling through job listings like any of them would ever compare to being around you. He picked up his racket again, muscle memory guiding him through serves and volleys, but it didn’t feel the same. His body was there, but his mind?

It was with you.

He found himself lingering outside your dorm, fingers flexing at his sides, debating whether to knock. He told himself he was just passing by. Just happened to be in the area. But the truth was, staying away from you felt worse than the embarrassment of knowing what you really thought of him.

So he caved.

One knock, then two.

You opened the door, surprised, blinking at him like you weren’t expecting to see him again. Like you had noticed his absence.

“Hey,” you said, voice soft like butter.

And just like that, he was right back where he started.

[daydreamgoddess14]

What's it take to get your number?

What's it take to bring you home?

Here she is! My first Bucky fic (😬)

From my Valentine's Lovebomb event, this one is for Emily 💜

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader insert, no use of y/n, no applicable warnings - just some cute fluff while I dip my toe into another fandom.

Masterlist

Of all of the things Yelena had talked you into, this was undoubtedly the worst.

And she had, of course, talked you into some truly awful shit.

If she could see you now, scowling into your margherita, she’d probably throw something at you.

Hey! Smile a little, huh?

As it happens, the thought of it does make you smile.

She's been good to you since you met. Being Valentina's PA was often an utterly thankless existence. The way she'd collected up Yelena, Alexei, John Walker and the others had been admirable.

Adding Bucky Barnes into the mix had been a goddamn coup.

They mostly went about their business as instructed and paid you little to no attention, but Yelena had spotted you still working away late into the night just before Christmas. She'd disappeared and returned twenty minutes later with cartons of Cantonese food which she insisted you shared.

Since then, a tentative friendship had blossomed between you both.

At the bar, there’s plenty of small talk going on in the background. Lots of organising.

The tables have been arranged loosely in a grid with plenty of space between them to move around.

Not that you have to move anywhere.

The instructions have been made very clear.

Yelena read them out with such glee, you suggested that she go instead.

So you sit, and you wait… then they ring a bell and the men come in and also sit down, yes? Hmm… says you have five minutes. Seems not long enough? Then bell goes again and you stay in your seat. The men move around and you have more handsome men to talk to! Fun, right?

Oh yes. Great fun. So much fun.

Next time Yelena suggests speed dating, you’re going to drag her kicking and screaming with you.

You steal a glance at the time, only a few minutes until the shitshow kicks off.

You signal the waiter for another drink, god knows you need it.

A couple of deep, cleansing breaths and the bell goes.

The noise and activity around you does distract you.

You glance around quickly at the couple of people around you, the beautiful women in their barely there dresses, poker straight hair and lashes so long they could be used as a fan.

You’ve made an effort, of course.

A certain blonde pain in your ass made sure of it.

This top, this skirt, these shoes.

She threw them at you.

Girl, the skirt has pockets!

The woman at the table next to you looks completely underwhelmed by her first five minute attendee.

Her eyes wide and her mouth in a fixed line.

The poor guy loosens his tie nervously.

A tie? Yikes.

He seems uncomfortable, clearly aware of the unfavorable impression he's making.

You’re almost transfixed by the car crash about to unfold in front of you.

This has got to be more entertaining than your date, right?

This is the shit you could watch all night long.

A low cough alerts you to your own car crash.

You steel yourself, a fake smile already in place.

“Hey,” he says.

The smile begins to slip.

You know that voice.

Why do you know that voice?

How do you know that voice?

By the time you actually look at him, the smile is long gone.

“Oh fuck.” It could be a whisper. It could be a squeak.

Either way, it’s barely audible so of course he heard it.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, slightly incredulously.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?”

“Same as you, apparently.”

“Did you follow me?”

“Why the hell would I follow you?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Did Yelena put you up to this? I’m going to fucking kill -”

“She didn’t put me up to anything,” he held up his hands in surrender. “And, I’d like to see you try,” he adds disparagingly.

He’s not wrong.

“So, why are you here?”

“Sam thought it would be a good idea. He says I’m too introspective.”

“Nice. He’s such a good friend,” you bite back.

“Right? He’s got enough charm for both of us.”

“So you don’t want to be here either?”

“Does it look like it?” He frowned.

“Fine. So we sit in silence until you can move on.” You tell him sternly, reaching for your drink and taking a long gulp. You signal the waiter again for another.

He scoffed and shook his head.

“I’m not sitting in silence. Sam says I should talk more, so let's talk,” he declares, and you just roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“What the hell is there to even talk about?” you ask, “you literally have no idea who I am?”

Bucky seems undeterred by your attitude.

“What kind of books do you like?” he asks casually. “What kind of… seriously?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Yeah, you’ve always got your head in a book. You say I don't know who you are but I've seen you. Recommending stuff to Yelena - not to me, though - so what do you like to read?” He leaned forward on the table, making it wobble.

“Anything,” you mutter with a sigh, “everything, really. The classics, fantasy, thrillers, romance.” He nods along as you speak. “What about you?” You ask hesitantly.

“I’ve been reading the classics lately, actually,” he admits.

“Oh sure,” you roll your eyes.

“Hey, it’s true. I just finished Pride and Prejudice.”

“And did you enjoy it?” As you ask your question, the bell rings out.

“Gentlemen, time to move on to the next table please,” the organiser calls out.

“Hold that thought, doll. Guess I’ll see you around?” He stood, waiting patiently for the man in the tie to move along.

The woman at the neighboring table suddenly seems thrilled with her new date. Bucky offers her a smile, and she responds with a giggle.

He takes his seat at the next table, but instead of engaging with his new date, he leans back over to you.

“I loved it. I like the chemistry between Elizabeth and Darcy and the layers of their relationship. It’s probably my favourite romance.”

The woman next to you looks a little put out.

“Your favourite romance? Which others have you read?” You can’t help but ask.

The man directly across from you is growing increasingly annoyed, watching the conversation unfold with a sense of irritation, like he's watching a tense tennis match.

“I liked it more than Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights.”

A small, surprised smile curves up the corner of your mouth as Bucky continues to ignore his next date.

“Uhh, excuse me?” she interjected, her voice laced with irritation.

“Sorry ma’am, I’ll just be a minute.” Bucky calmly replies, not breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m not a fan of Wuthering Heights either, I tried to be in my tortured youth.” You admit.

He laughs and it’s… magical.

“Any others you’d recommend?”

“North and South -”

“Gaskell?” He confirms, you nod. He mirrors your nod, a small smirk crossing his face.

“Yeah, another brooding gentleman and headstrong woman.”

“Huh, sounds familiar.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Meanwhile, your new date grows increasingly impatient, tapping on the table incessantly, while Bucky's date becomes frantic as she attempts to catch the organiser's attention.

The man at your own table finally interjects, addressing Bucky directly.

“Excuse me, buddy, you're supposed to move on after five minutes, you know?”

“Sorry man, just seeing where this goes,” he shrugs before looking back at you. “Got any newer recommendations? Feels like I’m… stuck in the past sometimes,” he grins lopsidedly.

“Romance, or something else?”

“Let’s stick with romance,” he leans in with his elbows on his knees.

“Try Emily Henry,” you tell him as your new drink arrives.

“Excuse me sir, you do need to move on?” The waiter insists as he carefully places your drink down.

Bucky sighs, turning back in his seat to face his actual date.

“Finally, I might be able to grab a quick minute before the bell goes -” your date starts with a smile.

“Emily Henry, huh? Book Lovers author? I saw it but didn’t pick it up,” Bucky leans over again.

“I’ve got a copy, I’ll bring it over.”

“That’s great, thanks.”

“And North and South, too?” You ask.

“I look forward to it.”

“Excuse me!” Your date interjects loudly.

You look down at the table with a blush as Bucky turns away again.

“So, how long have you been single?” You hear your date ask as the bell goes again.

“And move on again please, gentlemen.” The organiser smiles.

Your date does so, following Bucky with an angry frown.

With another table between you, you assume that’s your additional ‘date’ with Bucky over and turn to greet your next date.

Now, from three tables away, Bucky calls down the row to you.

“Hey, doll, there’s a new bookstore opened by Sam’s place. We should check it out?”

You nod to placate him while disgruntled voices around you mutter and curse his interruptions.

The bell rings again and everyone moves on once more.

From five tables away he asks about the recipe for the pasta dish you made for lunch with Yelena last week.

From seven tables away he shouts to ask whether you saw the last episode of Traitors.

“That is enough, sir. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” the organiser says with exasperation at the next bell.

“But we're getting along so well,” he protests as two waiters try to lead him to the door.

Giving up, he gives you a half shrug and a wave.

“See ya later, kid.”

He leaves without further disruption.

You turn back to your latest date but your enthusiasm has left the building with Bucky.

Despite the tedious hour that follows, no conversation manages to match the level of engagement you experienced in your initial encounter.

You had been under the distinct impression that he had no idea who you were. Of all of them, Yelena was the only one who made an effort. Alexei occasionally pulled you into conversation, usually when he needed an additional body on his side in an argument, but Bucky walked past your desk almost daily without a word or a glance.

You couldn't help but wonder why he chose tonight, of all evenings, to engage with you.

He could have ignored Sam's suggestion to attend. He could have ignored you completely.

You'd given him an out, offered to sit in silence.

His casual comment to your second date echoed in your mind: “Sorry man, just seeing where this goes.”

Those simple words had hinted at a deeper curiosity or interest, beyond just passing time at a speed dating event.

It had been both impressive and frustrating to see the usually stoic Bucky calling across tables, asking you questions about your job, how long you'd worked for Valentina, with an animated excitement that seemed to be reserved solely for you.

The organiser called time and you wrapped your coat tightly around you, the mid-February nights were cold and you were ready for bed.

You shot Yelena a brief text, letting her know you had arrived home safe and sound, choosing to leave her hanging when it came to details about the event.

After a fitful night, you arrived at the office the following morning, books safely nestled in your bag.

Yelena is parked at your desk, her feet casually propped up as if she'd taken permanent residency.

She raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“So, did you find the love of your life?”

“I'm never doing that again,” you warn with a pointed finger in her direction.

“Really?” A familiar voice behind you asks. “And here I thought you had a good time.”

You turn around to see Bucky standing there, his gaze fixed on you with a cheeky smile.

Yelena can barely contain her excitement, her grin widening even further.

Her feet hit the floor with a thud as she eagerly joins the conversation, eyes darting between the two of you. She turns first to Bucky.

“Wait, you were there?” Her question laced with disbelief.

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to have attended a speed dating event.

“Yeah, and?” He asked, his indifference only increasing Yelena's excitement.

“You went speed dating?” She asks incredulously. He doesn't look at her as he answers, he looks only at you.

“I went speed dating.” He confirms.

“And all you got were book recommendations?” You add, reaching into your bag to hand him the two books.

“Well I was kinda hoping I got a little more than that,” Bucky smirks, his expression filled with a hint of mischief.

Yelena's eyes widened, her gaze darting back and forth between you and Bucky.

“Wait, what's this? What's with you two?”

“I mean, I did think you were scared of me-” he began.

“You don't scare me,” you cut in firmly.

His smile widened further.

“Good to know.”

Yelena watches the exchange with wide eyes.

“This is so weird,” she mumbles to herself.

“So, you think you'll do it again?" You ask him brazenly.

Bucky grins at your bold question.

“Maybe,” he muses before adding with a twinkle in his eye, “but only if you're there.”

FIN

[free-slutt]

mdni! ✰

tw: slight smut, swearing, age gap!

sugar daddy!satoru who loves to spoil his “babydoll” with the most latest designer pieces! chrome hearts, chanel, rick owens, birkins. whatever you want he’s gonna get it for you especially when you use that cute little pout that drives him fucking nuts

“satoru please!” you pout your bottom lip every so cutely with those big puppy dog eyes

“whatever you want babydoll”

sugar daddy!satoru who has a habit of sending you money just because. you can be in a bad mood, it’s a family members birthday, a holiday, or a random tuesday. he takes this roll very seriously. it’s more of a power dynamic for him, he loves that he can take control of your life, your bank account, how you treat him.. he loves the advantages that come with as well.

“tell me sweets.. well show me how bad you want that new bag”

oh! he doesn’t have to tell you twice.. there you are on your knees! a slobbering messy delicious sight for sore eyes

one hand of satorus making a sloppy pony while he fucks your mouth with no remorse on how bad it’s hurting you right now

“toru… too much” you mange to mumble against him fully in your mouth, he’s too big you can basically feel him down your throat. thick and curved too. whew…

he’s smirking while his other hand is grabbing onto whatever he can find, a pillow, a blanket.. whatever!

as he shoots his warm salty load into your mouth you can’t help but gag not because he taste bad but you weren’t exactly ready, you try to spit it out but…

“uh uh sweets! swallow my kids f-for me yea? part of the deal honey” as he’s fucking his load back into your mouth forcefully making you swallow it. all.

sugar daddy!satoru as much he doesn’t want to admit he can’t help but feel for you. that’s part of the reason why you guys are in this “relationship” in the first place. when he saw you at the local coffee shop getting yelled at by your boss looking so cute so innocent, he knew he wanted you.. he wanted to show you more to life than whatever you had going on originally. it started off with frequent visits and small compliments to small tips than larger tips, until he finally got your number and well? let’s just say after that he gave you his tip as well!

“o-oh my sweets! taking daddy’s cock so fucking w-well” he groans out gripping the fat of your ass as he pushes your head down to the black silk sheets of his mattress

“g-gonna fuck you t-till you can’t walk!” he looks down at the prettiest sight of your messy pussy wrapping around his cock like it was fighting for its life.. so tight and warm for him.

sugar daddy!satoru who gives you a time limit and a certain amount to spend a week and if you don’t obey and follow his orders you get punished, not any ordinary punishment though! oh he’s gonna ruin you..

as you lay there on his lap skirt pushed up to high pretty pink panties on display smack! satoru gives your pretty ass a nice good spanking…

“toru-ugh-i’m s-sorry! hurtssss” you whine but satoru really doesn’t care what you have to say especially since you didn’t listen to him

“oh? it hurts babydoll?” he chuckles coldly “you know what hurts me? my girl not following orders” smack! satoru will get carried away in the act.. again like i said it’s all about the power dynamic for him! he smirks at how soaked you are he can see it through those stupid pink panties of yours

“guess you can’t really say much anymore since your pretty little pussy is asking for more” he laughs bringing his long finger to rub small but rough circles on your clit.. he’s right your wet! you love it, you want more. “oh.. she’s practically begging for more”

“baby doesn’t know how to spend my money.. do i have to add more?” he asks moving your panties to the side spreading your legs open a little with his free hand while he bring his finger back to you, your mouth. “spit!” he demands and you do what was said.

“that’s my girl” he says teasingly

he brings his wet finger from your saliva down to your pussy entering you with no warning which causes you to whimper and squirm on his lap. he laughs gripping your hips with his free hand “since your moving so much should i take away from your allowance” he asks in such a tone.. a teasing tone.. he wants you to protest he wants you to say something.

“m-more toru!” he smirks at your response “make it clear babydoll, more money or more fingers?” he laughs while adding two more fingers which causes you to moan. loudly!

“gotta stretch this little pussy out for what’s to come later”

sugar daddy! satoru who takes you on vacations monthly. it could be a solo trip, a “couples” vacation or even a girls trip. he doesn’t care he’ll pay for every single damn expense, the rental car, the hotel, or the air bnb. it’s all up to you! he’s constantly checking your bank account to see if your spending the sufficient amount of money.

sugar daddy!satoru who takes you to the mall, doesn’t complain not once at how long he’s been in one store.. it could be hours at the same place he wouldn’t care as long as your doing what your supposed too. as you walk out his arms and hands are filled with bags,bags,bags and you guessed it! more bags! as you smile up at him and thank him for everything. he can’t help but feel such love and care for his pretty like angel

“you love this life huh? since a spoiled brat? might make you my pretty little wife.. stay like this forever”

an: english is not my first language so forgive me for any grammar errors if you have any recommendations/request feel free to submit!

[itsadmiralactually]

@ellena-asgasg

I see where you’re coming from and I respect it, but I must disagree. And this is why:

There is an age-old saying, one which James himself quoted that night in the brothel: “Old habits die hard.” As much as we want them to, most people can’t change what they’ve known since childhood. They can't walk away from it. In James’ case, he’s been in the Royal Navy since the tender age of 6-years old. His father essentially raised him to be a soldier; to be an incorruptible pillar of strength, honor, leadership, discipline, and justice. And he was. In a sense, I think he became “spoiled,” if you will, by his success. That’s why when Elizabeth rejected him in favor of someone who was nowhere near his equal, he went off the deep end: because he didn’t know how to handle such an insult, a defeat, of that magnitude. Let’s not forget that for the past 8 years (in CotBP), he literally ruled the seas; as we say here in the south, he was “kicking ass and taking names.” He is at his best when he is in charge of something.

Now let’s take a look at what happened in DMC. He crashed and burned (figuratively) and lost his commission… as well as everything else. Where did he go? Tortuga—a place where he could’ve easily started over and became a pirate like most men who were RN washouts. He had a chance to embrace the type of freedom you’re talking about. But what did he do with this chance? He let himself go: unshaven, unkempt, clothed in the tattered remains of his uniform (with more than likely stolen items of clothing; a.k.a the trousers, boots, and waistcoat). He was on a collision course hell-bent on self-destruction. He would’ve drank himself to death were it not for his chance encounter with Jack and Gibbs, just as he would’ve stayed in that pigsty if Elizabeth had not pulled him out of it. When she brought him to the Pearl, he could’ve very easily made a 180 and embraced the life of piracy, and had he not stolen the heart of Davy Jones, he would’ve ended up on the Dutchman , and everybody on the Pearl would be dead. I would argue that would be a fate worse than becoming captain of the Dutchman, as well as point out that he needs that order, routine, and structure. Without it, his life literally goes to shit.

Fast-forward to the events in AWE. We first see him clothed in the EITC Navy uniform. He is an admiral, yes, but he is not free. He is under the control of the most conniving little shrimp to ever sail the Seven Seas. Due to his actions, the most powerful ship in the Caribbean—in the entire world—has come under this tyrannical asshole’s command… and it’s all because of what James did. When he finds Governor Swann’s body aboard the ship (according to the script), I think that’s the moment the foundations of everything he knew and everything he believed in came crumbling down. I think Elizabeth being captured and seeing what she has become was the feather that broke the camel’s back. That night he set her free, what does she ask him? She asks him to come with her. She asked him to step away from everything he knew (or what was left of it). He had that same choice as he did when he was in Tortuga: to start afresh; to start a new life. And he didn’t. He hesitated and you can clearly see he wants to… but he doesn’t. When Psycho Bill (Bootstrap) interrupts, he says, “Go! I will follow!” and Elizabeth knows instantly that he’s lying. That’s when he makes his famous quote: “Our destinies have been entwined, Elizabeth… but never joined.” Why did he say this? He had the chance to start over and live life to its fullest; to be like Elizabeth, to be like Will. But what did he do? He stayed behind. And he died for it. He died to save her. He could not walk away from what has been drilled into him since childhood.

As much as he wanted to, as much as we wanted him to, James simply cannot change who and what he is. He is a man of duty, honor, and discipline. He is a natural-born leader. I fully believe he intended to take control of the Dutchman that night once he was certain Elizabeth was safe. He knew he was going to die anyway. At the very least, I think he wanted it to mean something; to be worthwhile. Freeing pirates is a blatant act of treason, after all. It would either be a firing squad on his own quarterdeck or (most likely, cuz Beckett is a sadist and all that) he would be hanged. He might even have been tortured beforehand since he’d essentially become Beckett’s “pet," and I can't imagine the lesser of two men would let him off easy without having his final "say-so."

In any case, given the atrocities and all the bloodshed that happened because of what he did, I think James felt like it was his duty to take over the Dutchman to ensure that something like that would never happen again; that the supernatural power of this sort would never fall into the wrong hands. Not only would him becoming captain of the Dutchman ensure his survival, but it would help him become who he once was. I think he would find freedom in being the leader of a vessel with such a noble cause like ferrying those who died at sea to the other side. He would become that pillar of incorruptible virtue once more. That is who he is. It is what he is, and always will be.

Again, I see where you’re coming from and I respect it, but I have to disagree. Fun debate, though! :-)

[pullupinarari]

I feel so cold without you [LH]

summary: Lewis' schedule has been crazy, and he can't spend much time at home. but little Grace doesn't understand why.

author's note: I am still struggling with a writer's block so I'm so sorry cause this is honestly so bad and makes no sense, but I'm trying to get my creativity flowing again so pls bear with me. this is angsty but doesn't have a destructive ending. also barely proofread

• masterlist

wc: 5530 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Everybody knows that Lewis’ life involves traveling a lot, to different countries, continents, all the time - that’s not new to anyone. You met him in this reality, married him with this crazy agenda, and Grace was born in the middle of what you consider to be ‘normal’ for your life beside your husband. 

As a couple, you always managed to deal with the schedules, the work trips, the races abroad. As a family, you learned how to juggle being a mum and a wife to a F1 driver, with your own work responsibilities, teaching little Grace the best you can all about why her dad has to be away so much. 

When Lewis is away for a little time, your daughter understands it. She sees her daddy racing on the television, she chants his name as if she was there in person - she knows her dad is doing what he is best at, besides being the bestest daddy ever to her.

But Grace is very, very attached to Lewis, in the exact same way that Lewis is extremely attached to his princess, and they can’t stay away from each other for long. The problem is, for the past couple of weeks, your husband hasn’t been home. 

Lewis was in Italy, preparing everything at Ferrari, and setting everything up for the day you and Grace will meet him there, at the new place that you will call ‘home’ for this new period of your life. Then, the driver had to fly with the team to Spain, to prepare for the pre-season. So, his schedule has been incredibly tight, leaving him with no chance of flying back to London, to his girls’ arms, even for just a night. 

As the weeks pass by, your daughter starts growing confused. Daddy isn’t racing on the telly, he isn’t home to play with her, so the toddler could show him how she is feeling more confident to ride her pink bike, and the only time she sees him is through a video call that he does when calling you at the end of the day. 

So, why is daddy not home to tuck Gracie into bed every night? To give her the special forehead kisses that only he knows how to do, the ones that would scare away all the monsters?

Inside the three-year-old’s brain, everything made more sense while she could see him driving his car on the television, listening to him talking on the interviews following the race, knowing for a fact that her daddy is working. And, as much as you keep telling the toddler that dad is at work, where is he working? Why can’t Grace watch him on the television now? And why can’t he come home?

It’s been too long - you know. You admit it too. But you can’t say that to your baby’s face, adding more to the exasperation living inside her confused mind. It’s already heartbreaking enough to see your daughter’s eyes growing sadder by the day, noticing how she grows quieter through the week, seeing the disappointment plastered all over her face every time you have to say ‘no’ whenever she asks ‘is daddy coming home today?’

The salty tears painting the toddler’s features when she begs her daddy to come home over the phone are enough to make yours and Lewis’ hearts sting with an indescribable pain - one that seems to never cease, no matter how hard you try to nestle her close to your chest, trying your hardest to shush her fears and insecurities, making her feel protected in the first home she ever knew - your skin. 

- You don’t love me anymore, daddy? - Grace blurts out in between sobs, her little voice sounding muffled against your skin as she hides her face on the crook of your neck. 

The words leaving her mouth were enough to make Lewis’ heart sink, making sure that question will forever be engraved in his mind, not letting him forget about this moment, about the hurt in his princess’ voice when wondering why he is not home with her.

The man is left speechless for a minute, feeling a bunch of hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes as well. It has, definitely, been too long since he got to have a moment just for his family, dedicating all his hours to his favourite girls. 

He knows exactly how Grace is feeling, because Lewis feels the exact same void fulfilling his days, desperate to have some free time so he can go back home as soon as possible. But unfortunately, everything has been too much, lately, and the driver’s schedule is not giving him a break. 

- Daddy loves you more than anything else in this world, princess, you know that… - Lewis’ trembling voice cuts his phrase short, swallowing the knot that’s stuck in the man’s throat as his daughter continues weeping on the other side of the line.  - Then come home! I miss you so much, daddy - Grace insists, her sobs growing louder as the little girl tries to understand why her dad can’t be by her side, right now. 

He wishes he could. Lewis feels every bone in his body frail at night, when he lays his head on the pillow and opens his camera roll, going back to every picture and video that reminds him of some moments when he genuinely felt happy and at peace - with Grace in his arms, with you by his side. 

Tonight, some silent tears are finally freed from his eyes, looking at all the pictures of his child in his phone, while his brain is still replaying the toddler’s harsh question that she let out over the call earlier today. 

Lewis feels this moment completely wrecking him, especially when he stops to think about all the videos you send him while he is away, updating him on every new achievement and discovery your daughter makes during the days, trying your best so your husband won’t feel like he is missing too much. 

But he is. And he knows it - especially when he realizes how fast time passes by, how tomorrow isn’t guaranteed for anyone. How does he know that tomorrow is coming? Your husband keeps waiting for it, hoping that a break will eventually arrive so he can go home, but he shouldn’t suppose that tomorrow is coming, because nothing in this world can assure him that there will be one. And that thought kills him, because while he is thinking about it, he realizes that it’s been five weeks since the last time he got to be home, tucking his daughter to bed. 

The excited, bubbly Grace you know has been missing lately, leaving room for a sad and confused toddler to show up in her place - one that holds tighter to you when you hug her, when you’re holding her in your arms, kissing her curls as her lips just show you a downhearted pout. 

As your child grows up, she finds new challenges in life, and dealing with new emotions definitely is one of them - and missing her daddy this much has been leading to a rollercoaster of questions to erupt in your baby’s creative mind. You tuck her into bed, but it’s not the same thing. Your kisses are sweet and protective, but they are not Lewis’ cuddles that make sure to create a shield around the little princess, making sure no monsters can reach her. 

Your days have been hard as well, trying your best to deal with Grace’s doubts and tantrums, hushing her as you assure her that you are right there for her, informing her that her daddy will be by the girl’s side in no time. But, in the silent darkness of the night, heavy sighs escape your figure as well, loud noises of concern erupt in your mind, questioning if you are doing a good job, if you’re being a good mum, if you’re supporting your husband the right way. But, sometimes, you also ask yourself: where do you stand, in the middle of all this?

The arms that hold Grace are the same ones that hold Lewis when he needs it the most, you being the pillar of your family, holding everything in place when a storm threatens to push your boat away from safe land. Either way, you know better than to complain, understanding how this entire situation is hard for your husband as well, sharing the same pain and apprehension when you talk to him over the phone. 

Feeling restless from so many sleepless nights, being haunted by the infinite thoughts running through his brain, the man finally managed to get a free day - just 24 hours, but enough for him to fly back home, accepting the short break if that means he can hold the light of his life in his arms for a bit, shushing away all the small weeps that leave the toddler’s figure. 

Arriving early in the morning, you are already waiting to see your husband walking through the door, with a cup of warm tea in your hand. You can’t deny that there’s a small glimpse of nervousness bubbling inside of your stomach, at the thought of finally seeing him again, praying that his presence will lighten up the mood and help your daughter feel better. 

You’re sipping on your tea when you hear the front door open. Shortly after, his shadow appears on the kitchen’s tiles, mere seconds before the man himself is in front of you - the shine in his eyes, the relieved smile cracking through his tired features is noticeable, as he immediately walks over to you. 

Once your figures meet, Lewis wraps his arms around your figure, holding you close without saying a word, sharing a deep, tight hug while kissing your shoulder lovingly from time to time. There’s a heavy sigh leaving his body, as if being home is the magic solution that helps improve all his problems, taking a huge weight off his shoulders. 

His face is glued to the crook of your neck for a while, as your fingers reach to caress his scalp. It feels like time has stopped, as if the world is not spinning anymore. Both of you are merged in a bubble of comfort and reassurance, almost making up for all the stress and agony that your parental hearts have been feeling lately. 

When your lips finally connect again - after so long, a deafening silence is created between your bodies, as if your kisses speak for the two of you. I miss you, I need you, things have been so hard without you by my side. Both of you feel the same, both of you know how hard the past weeks have been for your family. 

Breaking the kiss, your foreheads are still glued, the tips of your noses touching, wanting to feel the other as close as possible. 

- She’s still asleep? - your husband breaks the silence, asking about Grace. He has very little time to stay, and he wants to enjoy every second by his daughter’s side. Still, the man can’t help but bite his own tongue as he looks at the time: it’s 7:24 am, and he knows that his baby usually doesn’t wake up that early. 

He earns a nod from you. The little girl hasn’t had nice nights of sleep lately either, constantly waking up after having bad dreams, always begging you to cuddle her to sleep, to let her sleep by your side. To tell the truth, your heart softens every time that your daughter asks to sleep with you, loving how she helps you fight Lewis’ absence as well, you two cuddling each other so you don’t feel so alone without his bright, powerful presence around.  

- She’s on your side of the bed, though - you inform him. Last night wasn’t any different. Another nightmare, another cuddle session in your bed before the toddler falls asleep again. 

Lewis furrows his eyebrows at your words for a second, before remembering that you had already told him all about how Grace has been having more bad dreams than usual, especially since she started feeling so down, constantly asking if her dad doesn’t want to be around her anymore. 

Again, a deep sigh leaves his lips, filling the air surrounding you. The memories of everything that his daughter has been saying, make an incredibly heavy weight to form on his shoulders, hating how he has to stay away for work so much, how he hasn’t been able to give his princess all the attention she needs and deserves. 

Trying to shrug those thoughts away, the man serves himself a cup of coffee before reaching for your hand, guiding you to lay on the sofa with him, wanting to enjoy this day to the fullest - starting with a cuddle session with his wife, until it’s time for Grace to wake up. 

Having your husband’s arms wrapped around you again almost feels like a dream. Something that has felt so distant for the past weeks, that you were craving and needing so much. And now, you finally have him all to yourself, and as you rest your head on his chest, a comfortable silence strings your bodies along. No one dares to say a word, just focusing on how each other’s touch feels light yet soothing against the other’s skin, leaving kisses here and there, hugging tighter and closer. 

In the back of your head, there’s a small assumption that keeps itching you. As much as you want to believe that he is home to stay - at least for a week or so, unfortunately, you noticed how small is the bag that he brought with him when he arrived. An incredibly small one, the type that Lewis only uses when he is only away for a weekend or so. So, as much as you want to make the most of this, the cuddles, his presence, you know it’s something that it won’t last. 

It’s like Lewis can feel the tension that slowly creeps on your muscles the more you think about it, his hands rubbing your back to try and calm you down, showing that he is here, right by your side, trying to take your mind off of whatever is bothering you. 

But in reality, he too has been obsessively thinking about the time passing by, how he needs to leave again in the middle of the night, not even being able to sleep beside his wife for an entire night - wanting nothing more than to cuddle you and Grace to sleep in his chest, protecting the loves of his life. But he can’t. Not tonight. And he knows that he hasn’t told you about it yet, but it’s like he can’t find the courage in his body to do it, to drop the bomb in your face, to ruin the moment you’re having right now. So he decides to keep it to himself, for now. 

8:47 am, you and your husband are climbing up the stairs to your shared bedroom, where your daughter is still sleeping. Opening the door to her tiny figure wrapped in the sheets, her curls all over his pillow, truly is the sight that the man didn’t know he needed to heal every wound in his heart. 

Lewis doesn’t even hold back, his body moving on its own as he sits at the end of the bed, on his side of the mattress that now apparently belongs to Grace, so he can have a better view of his baby’s features. 

She looks gorgeous as ever, the most beautiful and precious thing that Lewis has ever laid his eyes on, the most important thing in the driver’s life, the owner of his entire heart, without a doubt. Some small tears tingle in his eyes as his fingers gently caress the toddler’s cheek, slowly nudging her so the girl can wake up. 

- Princess - he calls quietly, before landing a small kiss on his child’s hand. - Time to wake up. 

Slowly opening her eyes, the little girl rubs her features as she wakes up from her slumber. Her gaze immediately is glued to the figure in front of her, almost as if she is trying to make sense of reality, questioning if she is still dreaming. 

- Daddy? - Grace whispers, before some tears appear in her eyes as Lewis nods at her question, getting close so he can hold her small body close to him. 

Small cries escape the toddler’s figure, as she immediately wraps her arms around her dad’s neck, using all her strength to not let him go, scared that he might leave again if she breaks the hug. 

Lewis can’t even describe the feeling washing over him as he can finally hold his daughter safely in his arms, noticing the scent of her baby shampoo, how her skin still holds his favourite smell ever. He can only take deep breaths, kissing the top of Grace’s head countless times, trying to calm himself down so as to not break down crying while holding his baby.

It’s an emotional sight, even for you , now that you are watching your two favourite people reunite, feeling your heart beating stronger in your chest, as if it’s being refilled with love again, after so many insecurities pooling over your head lately. 

And your daughter’s cries quickly turn into an excited gasp that leaves her lips, forgetting about all the sadness that she was carrying lately - now being substituted by happiness, the genuine type, from having her father near her again.

Soon enough, the toddler is jumping on the mattress, giggling loud as she celebrates the fact that daddy is home again, and now he can have tea parties with her, she can show him how she has mastered all the techniques he has taught her about riding her pink bike, watch her favourite cartoons with her on the sofa, and do everything that the girl has been wanting to do with him while he was away. 

Lewis giggles for a moment, before feeling a weight sinking in his chest again, remembering how he can’t do any of that with his princess, because he will leave again in a few hours. 

- Daddy! Can we go see the cute ducks at the lake tomorrow? Mummy took me there the other day, and there are little ones now! You need to see them, they are sooo cute!! - Her excited tone, mixed with the puppy eyes that she is giving him, are enough to break the man’s heart. And he knows that his next words are about to break his daughter’s heart as well.

Sighing, he tries his hardest to find the right words to say it, but it’s like his brain just forgot every single one of them. 

- Daddy can’t make it tomorrow, love. - the little girl furrows her eyebrows, not really understanding what her dad is trying to say. - Are you tired from the trip back home, daddy? It’s okay, we can go the day after tomorrow. We can just stay home and have a tea party instead? - her cute smile is just making everything hurt even more for him.  - Bubs, daddy is only home for today. I have a day off work and came back to see you and mummy, but I have to leave again after you go to sleep tonight. - there it is, the words that he didn’t want to say, and the ones that no one in the room wanted to hear. 

Your head hangs low as you hear it. Deep down, you already knew it. You knew it, as soon as you saw the bag that clearly showed that he wasn’t going to stay for long, when neither of you wanted to talk about the day he had to leave you two again. And now, you know why. 

His words hit Grace like a million bricks, the poor little girl being met with reality once again as she tries her best to hold back the tears that still slide down her cheeks. 

- You don’t love me anymore! You don’t want to spend time with me anymore! - the toddler screams before running away from her dad, hiding in between the four safe, pink walls of her room. 

And again, Lewis is met with his daughter’s harsh words, that are enough to tear his entire world apart. He gets up from the bed, wanting to go meet his child again, only to be stopped by your hand, touching his chest in a silent ‘don’t’. He too can see the disappointment evident in your eyes before you break eye contact, turning your back on him as you go to your daughter’s room. 

Your husband sits on the edge of the bed again, his head in his hands as he rethinks every small decision that he has ever made, questioning why his schedule has to be so chaotic, why life can’t ease up on him a little more, so he can have some more time for his family. At this point, he doesn’t know what he can do to be better, to make things right, to make it easier for everybody, knowing for a fact that he has, above all, been failing his family lately: failing you as a husband, failing Grace as her father. 

Opening the door of your shared bedroom a little bit, he can hear his baby’s loud cries again, as you hold her close in your chest, trying your best to calm her down again - something that has become a part of your routine already. And the sounds, the mental picture of what’s happening behind Grace’s bedroom door is enough to break him, to make some tears fall from his eyes as well as he clenches his fist, absolutely hating this entire situation, cursing himself from having to leave his family so soon. 

Grace doesn’t know how to deal with these new emotions that have been erupting through her small figure lately. All she knows is that she is sad, very sad. And very confused with her dad’s agenda, not understanding why this is making her chest hurt, only making her cry out more, feeling scared with the discomfort that these newfound emotions provide her. 

Tired of hearing his princess cry while staying still in his bedroom without doing anything to help or to make it better, Lewis decides to step up, gaining the courage to walk to the toddler’s room.

Knocking on the door gently, he hopes to be met with a ‘come in’. But instead, he is met with a loud ‘I don’t want to see you!’ coming from his daughter’s mouth, hearing how you reprimand her due to the attitude she is giving him, now. There’s a desperate sigh escaping Lewis’ lips now, but still, he decides to ignore Grace’s words, walking inside the room. 

Once he does, the toddler immediately hides her face in your chest again, trying her best not to look at her dad’s face, keeping her words. 

- Grace, please look at me - Lewis asks her with a serious tone, crouching down so he is eye leveled with the kid. But still, all he gets in return is silence, and the girl only hides her face further into the crook of your neck. 

Rubbing his features with his hands almost desperately, he looks up at you, giving you a pleading glance, needing your help with this - begging you to forget about how sad and disappointed you are feeling at him now as well, so you can help him solve this problem with your daughter now. 

With a tired sigh, you give in. 

- Grace, look at your father - you say. Still, nothing. You know she is as stubborn as you are, but you absolutely hate when she is acting up this way. - Grace. - you say more sternly, catching the girl’s attention as she slowly turns to look at him, now. 

Once Lewis’ eyes meet his child’s again, the pain in both of their chests connects, feeling it in the exact same intensity. Taking in the sight of his daughter’s tear stained face is the worst part of it all. 

- Bubs, please listen to daddy carefully. - he starts speaking, feeling his voice cracking a bit, laced with the million different emotions surrounding his body as well.  - You know how you and mummy are going to move to the new house that daddy got in Italy, right baby? I even showed you pictures of your new room and everything - he asks Grace, trying to give her a calm, light tone. The girl nods her head, not really in the mood to talk now.  - So, daddy needs to go because I am preparing everything so you can move there as fast as possible love, so we can spend every day together again. - the thought of having his family next to him all day, every day again, makes a small smile appear in the man’s face.  - But you are never home anymore. You can leave that house and come here! And you don’t want to play with me anymore. - the toddler finally speaks up, finding a perfectly reasonable solution for the problem. 

Lewis tries to get closer to the little girl, his fingers gently touching her small hand, hoping she will give in a bit, so she can better understand what’s going on and hug him again in no time. 

- Princess, my favourite thing in this world is to play with you. Tea parties, riding our bikes, you painting my nails, watching ducks at the lake, you name it. My favourite time in this world is the time I get to spend by your side - he admits, being completely transparent as he looks right into the toddler’s eyes. - You know daddy loves you more than anything in this entire world, bubs. 

The three-year-old slowly nods her head ‘yes’. She does know that her dad loves her more than anything, but she is still hurt. 

- I promise everything will get easier, princess. I’m doing everything I can so we can be together everyday again really, really fast, okay? Please forgive me, my love. Daddy never wanted to hurt you - landing a small kiss on her cheek, his hands caress her hair as the little girl moves in your lap, stretching her small arms to hug her daddy. 

And once Lewis is able to hold his princess in his arms again, everything feels a bit more right, as if the toddler has the power to glue the pieces of his heart together. The only things that can be heard in the room are muffled ‘I love you, bubs’, ‘I love you so much’, that Lewis keeps whispering to his daughter, to which Grace quietly replies ‘I love you too, daddy’. 

Today, there were no tea parties, the kid didn’t paint her dad’s nails, they didn’t go to see the ducks at the lake. Instead, they ate the toddler’s favourite breakfast together, at home, and decided to just spend the entire day cuddling on the sofa, enjoying the time together as a family, playing some small games, singing songs, dancing in the middle of the living room, to an extent that loud giggles would erupt through the walls.

After dinner, the air grows heavy again, as the three of you know that the day

is coming to an end, and that Lewis won’t be home again once you and your daughter wake up. 

The man carries Grace safely in his arms, her tiny limbs strongly wrapped around his neck as well, as they reach the toddler’s bedroom. Now, you decided to let them have this moment to themselves, waiting downstairs for your husband to come back. 

Tucking his princess in bed as he usually does, the biggest kiss lands on the little girl’s forehead, ready to scare all monsters away, so she can have the most peaceful of sleeps, with the sweetest of dreams. 

- Have a nice night of sleep, my love - Lewis says, trying not to show how this goodbye is killing him, playing it off with a smile. 

However, he notices the kid’s big chocolate eyes looking up at him attentively. 

- Please come back fast, daddy. I feel so cold without you. And mummy misses you too - the toddler whispers, almost on the verge of crying again. 

Lewis needs to swallow the lump forming in his throat again, staying silent for a second as he takes in his daughter’s words. 

- I promise I’ll be fast, bubs. You’ll be in your new room, in our new house, in no time. I promise - he shows her his pinky finger, knowing how serious Gracie takes pinky promises. 

The fact that her daddy is pinky promising her that they will be together again soon, makes a sparkle appear in the girl’s eyes, as she wraps her own pinky around his. 

- I love you so, so much, princess. More than anything in this world. Never doubt that - he insists, kissing her forehead again before giving her another bear hug.  - I love you too, daddy. And please make sure that my new bedroom has the right shade of pink in the walls - the three-year-old jokes, lightening the mood as her dad gets up from her bed.  - I will, baby. I will - he giggles lightly, before blowing one last kiss to his biggest reason to live, closing the door behind him. 

Lewis takes a moment before coming downstairs again, wiping away some of the tears that escaped his eyes. Saying goodbye to little Gracie is always the hardest, and definitely the worst part. 

Finally meeting you in the living room, the man completely breaks down as you engulf him in your arms, noticing how much of a wreck he is. You let him cry in your arms, staying silent as he apologizes over and over again to you. For not being home as much, for not having many days off of work, for failing you when you need him the most. 

At this moment, he starts thinking that maybe you were right all along. He should have slowed down already, he should have left F1 behind, dedicating himself to his other projects and especially to his family, which needs him so much. But he couldn’t say no to the opportunity of joining Ferrari, putting his dreams in front of everything else. 

This might only be temporary, until you and Grace finally meet him in Italy, but you are sure that you can’t keep up doing this for much longer, now. 

- Things can’t continue like this, Lewis - you tell him, hot tears sliding down your cheeks as well, now.  - I know, love. I know. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make everything right. In a blink of an eye, the three of us will be together in our new home, baby. Please, just be a little more patient with me - he begs, his arms wrapping tighter around your silhouette as he voices his pleads. 

You sigh. You know you will end up giving in, but you can only take so much, and now, there’s not a day that you aren’t concerned about the future of your family. 

- Just don’t let this sport break you, baby. Don’t let them take you from us. We need you so, so much - you confess, seeing Lewis nod as his tears match yours, holding you in his chest as you mourn the time you had for each other. 

Before he has to leave, he makes sure to cuddle you extra close in bed, your words echoing in his mind to the point where he feels like he could drown in them, dying in your arms as you fall into a peaceful sleep in his chest, almost as if he will still be by your side once you wake up. 

But you know he will leave during the night. And so, while you have the privilege to fall asleep in his chest, you trick your mind to dream about him, so you can have him twice, making sure that, one way or another, he will still be with you once you wake up in the morning. 

In your absence, everything is suspended for Lewis. Your husband is so addicted to seeing you, that he just daydreams about your figure being right by his side, inventing you everywhere, feeding the void that the distance insists in creating between him and his family.

He hates it, he really does. But unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do right now. He wishes he could make a call and cancel all his responsibilities for the rest of the week, spending all day by his girls’ side. But he can’t. And right now, he can only pray for you to be even more patient, until the day you are together again, in your new house.

Tucking you in bed with a forehead kiss, the man leaves your shared room, feeling all the weight coming back to his shoulders as he picks up his bag, leaving his happiness behind as he travels back to his job, leaving his heart behind, in his home in the human shapes of you and Gracie, wanting to be right where his family is. 

[gojomyshayla]

Gojo x senior!reader

Warning: rotten fluff. slight angst (nothing serious) gojo got hurt:((. Gojo being a menace for society

Starring: second year! Gojo. Senior!fem!reader. Other characters like second year!geto and second year! Shoko

Summary: Gojo Satoru is a lovesick junior hopelessly chasing after his beautiful, tsundere senior. When a mission nearly kills him, she finally shows her softer side—proving that maybe, just maybe, she loves him too.

(The picture belongs to the rightful owner)

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Jujutsu High had seen its fair share of curses, battles, and absurd antics, but nothing—nothing—was as relentless as Gojo Satoru’s love for you.

"You think if I die in battle, she'd finally notice me?" Gojo dramatically slumped over his desk, his blindfold askew as he peeked at Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri for sympathy.

"Try actually doing your homework first," Geto sighed, flipping a page of his book.

"Or better yet, try shutting up," Shoko added, lighting up a cigarette.

Despite his endless charm, wit, and undeniably good looks, you—(L/N) (Y/N), Jujutsu High’s top senior—remained completely oblivious to his suffering. Or at least, that's what everyone thought.

You weren’t completely clueless. You knew Gojo Satoru had an annoying habit of hovering around you like a particularly persistent mosquito, popping up in your training sessions, stealing your snacks, and dramatically professing his love at the worst possible times.

What you didn't understand was why your heart always skipped a beat when he did.

It all started when Gojo was just a first-year, wide-eyed, cocky, and irritatingly charming. The moment he laid eyes on you— the stunning, intelligent, and way out of his league second-year—he was done for.

The problem? You had no idea.

Or at least, you pretended not to notice.

From the very beginning, Gojo trailed behind you like a lovesick puppy. He would “accidentally” bump into you in the hallways, dramatically declare his love during sparring sessions, and shamelessly follow you around campus.

You tolerated it, mostly because it was impossible to take him seriously. He was ridiculous, infuriating, and somehow… endearing.

“Senpai!” Gojo had whined during one of your early interactions, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. “What’s it going to take for you to fall in love with me?”

You gave him a deadpan stare. “A miracle.”

He grinned. “Good thing I’m Gojo Satoru. Miracles are my specialty.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away, but even then, you were fighting back a small smile.He made it almost impossible for you to find any boyfriend, he would just scare away any boy who would linger a little too much for his liking 

---

The first thing you saw when you walked into the classroom was Gojo sprawled across your desk, arms stretched dramatically, blocking any chance of you sitting down.

“Satoru,��� you sighed. “Move.”

He peeked up from under his blindfold, a teasing grin stretching across his face. “Say ‘please’ first.”

You placed your hands on your hips, trying to look stern. It was impossible when he was looking at you like that—like you hung the moon and stars just for him.

“I’m going to count to three—”

Gojo immediately sat up, throwing his arms around himself. “Oh no, I’m so scared! What will my beautiful, terrifying senpai do to me?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “ utahime is right .You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you love me.”

You reached out, flicking his forehead lightly. “I tolerate you.”

Geto and Shoko, who had been watching the entire exchange from their seats, exchanged a look.

“She’s getting softer,” Shoko noted, exhaling smoke.

“Yeah,” Geto agreed. “It’s terrifying.”

--------

Studying was supposed to be peaceful. It was not—at least not when Gojo Satoru was involved.

You were flipping through a book, minding your own business, when you felt something lightly tap your cheek. You looked up to see Gojo twirling a candy wrapper between his fingers.

“What do you want?” you asked, already exasperated.

“Your attention,” he said shamelessly, scooting closer. “Also, I’m bored.”

“You could read,” you suggested, turning back to your book.

“You could kiss me,” he countered.

You choked. “Excuse me?”

Gojo laughed at your reaction, leaning back lazily. “It’s a valid suggestion.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Try it and you’re getting thrown out of the library.”

“But senpai,” he whined, tilting his head cutely. “You’d really throw me out? Even after I brought you this?”

He held up a small bag of your favorite snacks. You stared at it, eyes sparkling.but you did not forgot he is gojo satoru, of course he wants something in return “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just wanna see you smile,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart melted just a little.

“Fine. Give me the snacks.”

"Give me a kiss first~.”

You huffed but relented. “Please, Satoru.”

"Kiss kiss~"

You let out a sigh and stood on your tip toes to give him a kiss.....on his cheeks of course 

Gojo grinned like he won the lottery and handed them over.his cheeks on fire

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he teased.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

But Gojo heard it. And judging by the way his smile widened, you had just made his entire week.

----

“Senpai~” Gojo whined, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. “Can I have a bite?”

You sighed, looking down at the dango skewer in your hand. “Why? You literally bought your own.”

“Yeah, but yours looks better.”

“…It’s the same thing, Satoru.”

He leaned down, giving you a playful pout. “But it tastes better when you feed me.”

You huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but your cheeks warmed as you lifted a piece of dango to his lips. His grin widened before he bit into it, chewing happily.

Your heart fluttered. You quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“You’re so cute when you’re shy, Senpai.”

You groaned, nudging him with your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

Gojo’s Daily Attempts at Flirting persisted.

“Satoru, get off my desk.”

“But it’s so comfy.”

“Satoru, give me back my notes.”

“Say ‘Satoru, you’re the most handsome, strongest, and most amazing

---

After a few days,Gojo had been sent on a mission—a “routine” mission, Yaga had said. It was supposed to be easy.

But when he returned—unconscious, bloody, his usually bright presence reduced to something eerily fragile—you felt something close to panic grip your chest.

You had never seen him like this. Satoru was supposed to be invincible.

For days, you refused to leave his side.

You held his hand when he tossed and turned in his fevered sleep, whispered reassurances when he flinched at invisible threats in his unconscious state. You wiped his brow, murmured soft scoldings about how reckless he was, how much he scared you.

And then—

“Senpai…?”

Your heart clenched as his hoarse voice reached your ears. His eyes, still hazy, locked onto yours.

“Satoru.” Relief flooded you so intensely that you squeezed his hand without thinking. “You’re awake.”

He blinked sluggishly, then gave you the faintest, sleepiest grin. “Am I dreaming?”

You frowned. “No, you idiot.”

He hummed, his fingers weakly curling around yours. “Feels like a dream. You’re taking care of me… holding my hand… being all soft…”

Your face burned. “Shut up and go back to sleep.”

Gojo chuckled, but the sound was weak. “Okay… but only if you promise to stay.”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. “I’ll stay.”

His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “Good. ‘Cause I love you.”

You inhaled sharply. But instead of scolding him like usual, you brushed his hair back and whispered, “I know, Satoru. Now rest.”

--------

The moment Gojo made a full recovery, he was unstoppable.

“She held my hand, Suguru.”

Geto sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yes, Gojo. You’ve mentioned that—about a hundred times.”

“She stayed by my side.”

Shoko took a drag of her cigarette. “Tragic.”

“She whispered my name.”

Geto groaned. “Please stop.”

Gojo leaned back, hands behind his head, a dreamy look in his eyes. “You guys don’t get it. This is destiny. Our wedding is practically inevitable. Just think about our wedding, honeymoon, cute babies-"

Shoko snorted. “You’re delusional.”

“I am delusionally in love.”

Shoko laughed at his claim "like she you choose you" 

Gojo pouted "you two are not invited to our wedding"

Meanwhile, outside the room, you covered your burning face with your hands.

Maybe… just maybe, you were starting to feel the same

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[imtryingbuck]

Daydreamer

~ photo is not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Viking!Bucky Barnes x Princess!fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky marries Y/n to create an alliance between their families and kingdoms, their marriage isn’t one of love but Bucky soon finds himself falling for her.

Word count: 14,686

Warnings: angst. arrange marriage. rape (once and its done by bucky). mentions of sex. Sharon. swearing. fluff. lots of pregnancies. self loathing (Bucky). cheating. attempted SA on a child and Yn (doesn’t happen!!) mentions of a stillborn (not readers) breastfeeding (?) animal sacrifice (not detailed)

Masterlist

Y/n always dreamt of marrying, of course she did, it was drilled into her head from such a young age that she would be married and her job was to take care of her husband, home and have children. She use to lay on her bed and day dream of marrying a handsome man, a man who would love her just as much as she did him, a man who would gift her pretty flowers just because he saw them and they reminded him of her. She would dream of having a marriage filled with nothing but love and happiness, nothing like her parents’ marriage.

On the boat along with her parents and her two brothers she sailed off to meet the man she would be marrying, hope and praying to God that he was everything she had dreamt about, hoping and praying that he was kind, loving, and would care for her the way she would him.

As terrified as she was of the unknown she kept a smile on her face as she watched the waves beat against the ship, not knowing what God had in store for her.

King George stood at the docks getting angrier as the ships got closer to shore, his wife stood beside him and took his hand in hers giving him a reassuring squeeze, he could only muster a fake smile. It was only when the ships came to a stop his son came running to stand by his side. His nose scrunching up when he noticed the smell coming from his son and his flushed cheeks.

“Welcome.” George beamed as if he wasn’t annoyed at his son. “Welcome, this is my darling wife Winnie, my beautiful daughter Rebecca and finally my son, James.”

“It’s nice to finally be on land.” The other King laughed. “This is my wife, my sons and daughter.”

The fact that he hadn’t mention any names didn’t slip George or Winnie’s notice as the couple shared a look of confusion. “Well let’s get you inside and ale down you.”

“James why don’t you walk with your betrothed.” George said as he noticed the young princess standing there on her own looking nervous.

Bucky didn’t say anything as he walked closer to her, he didn’t react to the small shy smile she gave him - which George noticed as well as it dropping quickly and her lips turning downwards. Neither one of them spoke as they followed their families to the great hall, Bucky didn’t offer his hand to her as she climbed the steps nor did he wait for her to enter the hall before he left her side.

Her parents frowned when they saw the young prince who was going to be marrying their daughter walk up to another woman and place a kiss to her lips, watching as the other woman beamed as she held his hand. The King looked at George who seemed to struggle with making eye contact and asked who that woman was.

“That’s… that’s his wife.”

“What?”

“Y/n will be his second wife. That’s his first.”

“That is wrong, he cannot have two wives.”

“We can have as many wives as we want we’re Vikings, that is our right as men.” James says, bringing his wife with him. “I married Sharon out of love, I will marry your daughter simply out of duty.”

Y/n’s heart ached at hearing his words. Firstly he already had a wife, secondly all she was to him was nothing but a job, lastly and most importantly she knew right there and then with the way he spoke that she was going to be the same as her mother and be trapped in a loveless marriage.

She wanted to run, run fast and far away from this place but she couldn’t, she knew her father would have her tracked down and the consequences would be catastrophic, so she stayed in place as if she was a statue and continued to force the tears not to spill over and down her cheeks.

Everything that happened next went by in a blur, she didn’t know why she was sitting down next to her soon to be husband with his wife on his other side, and she definitely did know why everyone was staring at her.

“Y-Yes?”

“I’m glad you agree.” Her father smiled at her. “I am sorry George, she’s always daydreaming.”

“So does my sweetheart.” The man chuckled and winked at his wife.

Once again the conversation around her became quiet although she could see them all laughing and talking, she just couldn’t register what was being said. And before she knew it she was being led towards the bedroom that would become hers in a home that could never be her own with a husband that she would have to share.

The last thing she hears before sleep overtook her tired body was loud moaning coming from across the hall. Where her soon to be husband and his wife slept.

Bucky knew he was going to be in trouble with his father for being late but he had to deal with his wife as she had gotten more clingy and needy in the days leading up to today. That’s what happens when a wife finds out that her husband has to marry a second wife, he guessed.

He had already fucked her three times that morning and now she was begging for him again, just as he was about to leave to greet the King and Queen. “No.”

“Please Jamie.” The blonde woman pouted, giving him her best sad eyes. “It’s because she’s coming isn’t it? Aren’t you going to want me now?”

“I have to be there to greet them my love and of course I’m going to want you. Always. You know this.”

“It’s because she’s a princess and I was just a thrall.”

“No, Sharon I couldn’t care if she was a queen, I will still want you.”

“So fuck me then.”

And so he did. By the time he had satisfied the both of them he was rushing to the docks, cussing to himself when he notices just how late he was, he tried not to show his father that he caught the disapproving look he was given - though use to it by now especially ever since he married Sharon, a woman who was his mother’s thrall, but that didn’t mean it didn’t affect him.

Steve had told him that he had heard that the beauty of the princess was unmatched, from how her hair was never a strand out of place, how her eyes shined brighter than the sun, to how her curves were envied by all women around her.

Steve wasn’t wrong.

Now Bucky was struggling to take his eyes off of the princess he was to marry, he felt guilty to Sharon for struggling to keep his composure around another woman but he also felt guilty to the princess before him, he had the scent of sex and perfume of another woman on him when her scent was supposed to be the only one to embed its self into his skin.

The small shy smile she gave to him made him want to take her hand in his own and promise her that everything was going to be okay, that she had no reason to be nervous or shy because he was there with her, yet he didn’t do any of that, he stood by her side and acted like his fingers weren’t begging him to stretch out and to touch her. The second he saw Sharon standing in the great hall he left his future wife’s side and returned to his wife. Kissing her to reassure her that everything was okay, and that she was still the only woman for him. Bucky knew what he had done was wrong especially in front of the family of his beautiful betrothed but he had his wife to think about.

“Who is that woman?”

“That’s… that’s his wife.” He forced himself not to roll his eyes at the way his father says that.

“What?”

“Y/n will be his second wife. That’s his first.”

“That is wrong, he cannot have two wives.”

“We can have as many wives as we want we’re Vikings, that is our right as men.” Stepping closer to everyone with Sharon holding his hand tightly. “I married Sharon out of love, I will marry your daughter simply out of duty.” Bucky’s eyes quickly glanced to the princess to see how she reacted, he wish he hadn’t when he saw the tears filling those pretty eyes of hers.

He watched as her brother had to guide her over to the table where everyone had gathered to talk about the upcoming wedding, throughout the whole conversation she didn’t speak or look up preferring to keep her eyes on the wooden table in front of her.

“Y/n. Y/n?”

“Y-Yes?”

Bucky knew that she had no idea what her father was talking about, but he didn’t care because he had just heard her voice even though it was quiet he was desperate to hear more yet she didn’t say anything else.

Climbing into bed after such a long day Bucky was ready to sleep when Sharon climbed on top of him, once again begging him to fuck her, he knew that if he said no it would cause an argument or her kicking him out of the bed so he did as she asked. He noticed that her moans were louder than usual, knowing that Y/n was just across the hall he asked her to quiet down just for her to respond with an even louder moan.

It had been two days since Y/n met the man she was to marry… and his wife, in those two days she didn’t speak to anyone other than her mother and brothers or unless it was necessary for her to speak - not that anyone else really spoke to her, she had yet to spend time with James as his wife kept calling him away when they were supposed to try and get to know each.

But here she was standing in her room with the thralls helping her put her wedding dress on, her hair braided, shoes on and ready to go to marry a man she didn’t know other than his name. With shaky hands she picked up the tiara that had been given to her by her grandmother, placing it on her head she took a deep breath in only letting go as she stepped over the threshold.

Preparing to walk down the makeshift aisle in the woods where their wedding was being held, she saw James standing there looking longingly towards his wife, she wasn’t going to let it get to her however. Holding her head up high she walked quicker than she was supposed to, she stood in front of him not even holding her hands out for him to take, keeping them to herself and close to her body. Since their marriage was for duty she didn’t see the need to focus on what was being said, saying yes instead of I do, and when he leant forward to kiss her, her lips didn’t even move from the straight line that they had been in from the second she woke up. There was no need to pretend as this was all for duty, nothing more, nothing less so she didn’t understand why he looked hurt when he realised that she hadn’t kissed him back.

No one would have guessed that it was her wedding day by the bored look on her face as she sat at the table alone. No one would have thought that she was the bride when the groom was dancing with another woman, kissing her and keeping her close to him. No one had tried to speak to her as the celebration continued. All she wanted to do was going to bed and hope that she didn’t wake up the next morning, that would be nice she thought to herself.

She hadn’t realised that James had finally made his way over to her, not realising that he was sitting by her side and talking to her until he touched her arm causing her to flinch and pull it closer to herself.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She sees him give her a soft smile from the corner of her eye but she didn’t react to him. Sighing Bucky tries to touch her again, closing his eyes as she moves further away from him. “I know we don’t know each other but we’re married now. You and Sharon are my wives and I would like you two to get along, but remember our marr-“ He cuts himself off as she pushes her chair back and stands before he can ask where she was going she walks off and away from the celebration.

It’s for duty. It’s for duty. It’s for duty. She kept repeating in her head as she made her way into her room pressing herself up against the door trying to get her heart rate to slow down.

When she finally removed her wedding dress and the tight braids that were causing her head to start hurting, she heard giggles then the door open and close across the hall, within minutes she heard the moans of her husband and his wife. On her own wedding night she fell asleep to the loud moans of a woman that her husband was pleasing.

It’s for duty. It’s for duty. It’s for duty.

Y/n hugged her mother goodbye, her brothers both telling her that if she ever needed them to write to them and they’d come as soon as they could, her father patted her head as if she was a dog, she watched them sail away leaving her behind with people she didn’t know, with a husband and his wife, leaving her alone to suffer in a loveless marriage. As George and Winnie left to go back inside, Bucky took a step closer to her after he told Sharon to go with his parents.

“Are you-“

“Fine.” She cuts him off. Not even giving him a glance she walks towards the great hall with him trailing behind her, without saying anything to anyone she walks straight towards her room and locks herself inside.

“Give her a few days son, she’s in a new place.” His mum said to him when she noticed to longing look he was giving Y/n’s retreating form.

It’s for duty. It’s for duty. It’s for duty. He reminded himself. Smiling to his mum he placed a kiss to her cheek before making his way to sit next to Sharon.

It was exactly a week before anyone other than the thralls saw her again.

Steve was the first one to notice her as he and Sam made their way to sit on the steps leading up to the great hall, she was standing by one of the stalls talking to the owner. “Isn’t that the princess?”

“Where?”

“Over there.”

Sam nods and frowns. “Where’s her guards?” The blond shrugs making his way down the steps with Sam following, neither one understanding why Bucky hadn’t given her own personal guards since Sharon was surrounded by his most trusted men wherever she went and she was only a princess by marriage, being a princess was Y/n’s birthright meaning if anyone was going to be targeted out of the two it would be Y/n.

“Thank you so much sir.”

“You’re welcome Princess.”

Just as they were about to call out for her Y/n walks off, they both follow her only stopping when she does. They frown in confusion when they see her get down on her knees and pull out some meat out of her pocket. “It’s okay kitten, I’m not going to hurt you.” She says softly, laying the pieces of meat that she was ripping apart on the ground, not long after they both see a small ball of fluff come crawling from underneath the chopped down logs. “Hello little one, it’s okay you can eat it. It’s nice.” Giggling softly as the kitten crawls onto her knees with a piece of meat in its mouth.

“Princess.” Steve says lowly in hopes not to scare her or the kitten.

Her head snaps in the direction of the voice, her eyes widen when she sees who it was. “Y-yes?”

“What are you doing out here without guards?”

“I don’t have any?”

“You are a princess… you’re also married to Bucky.”

Standing up with the kitten in her arms she pulls it closer to her. “Who?”

“Buck-James, he prefers to be called Bucky.”

“Oh right. Well I don’t need guards.”

“Of course you do.”

“I don’t.” Walking past them, the two men look at each other when they hear her parting words. “No one would care if I was harmed or killed.”

The next person to see her was King George, it was a few days after she found the kitten that she had named Benny. Quietly she called out his name as she moved down through the corridors searching for him, he had gotten out when the thrall entered her room and now she couldn’t find him anywhere. George was in the war room when he heard a whispered voice, deciding to find out who was behind it, finding Y/n in the hallway he raised his eyebrow as she had yet to realise he was standing there.

“Ah! King George. Hello.”

“Hello. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Well. I’m looking my kitten… I lost him.”

“A kitten?”

“Yes, I know I should have asked you before I brought him into your home b-but I’ve been lonely an-“

“What’s his name? And what does he look like?”

“Benny and he’s a tabby.”

“I’ll help you search.”

An hour of searching and coming up empty Y/n tried not to show the devastation on her face but George saw it, he felt bad for the young princess he left her with the promise that if he saw the kitten he would tell her. As George walked back into the war room he faltered when he saw a ball of fluff curled upon the papers, picking the small animal up he went to Y/n’s room.

“King George.”

“Hello Princess Y/n, I have something for you.” Holding Benny up Y/n’s face lit up, a huge smile taking up her face.

“Oh thank you! Where was he?”

“In the war room, I think he’s ready to plan his first raid.” They both chuckle as George hands Benny over to her. “Where did you find the little one?”

“I saw a man kick him and he ran off, he wouldn’t come out of his hiding spot so I brought some meat and lured him out.” She smiled sadly.

“If anyone hurts him again tell me and they’ll have me to deal with, okay?” As she nods they both hear footsteps coming towards them, looking they see Sharon with guards around her. Y/n saw the eye roll George gave the blonde but made no comment on it.

“I have to go now, goodbye King-“

“It’s just George, there’s no need for formalities. And Y/n please join us for dinner tonight I know Winnie would like to see you.”

“O-okay.”

When Bucky walked around the corner with Sharon hanging off his arm, his eyes went wide with surprise to seeing Y/n sitting at the table talking with his mum. Throughout the meal he couldn’t take his eyes off her, he found himself smiling along when he saw her smile, he wanted to know what she and Rebecca were giggling about. When they were all finished with their food, Y/n bid the King and Queen goodbye before leaving the hall.

Bucky had found her sitting on the docks, her shoes neatly placed next to her, she turned her head to the side when she heard his footsteps but made no attempt to move which he took as a good sign to continue to walk towards her. “Can I sit?”

“Yes.”

As he sat he tried to keep as much distance from her as he could so he didn’t make her uncomfortable and leave him. He tried to find the correct words but everything he came up with seemed stupid, so he sat next to her in silence as they both watched her feet move lightly in the water.

“How are you finding it here?” Bucky asked after many minutes had passed. Wincing himself as he processed the words he spoke.

“Fine.”

“Good. That’s good. We should spend more time together.”

“Why?”

“So that people will see that we are happily married.”

“Right.”

“Which will require you to speak more than one word to me at a time.”

“Correct.”

“Will that be a problem?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because, what?”

“I.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t.”

“Go on.”

“Want.”

“Keep going.”

“To.”

“Yes.”

“Pretend.”

“You don’t want to pretend?”

“Correct.” Bucky frowned at her words. He didn’t want to pretend either but he had already married someone who he loved. “But I will. I’ll do my duty. Goodnight.”

Before Bucky could reply Y/n stood up, grabbing her shoes she walked away. He felt terrible but he hoped that maybe spending time with her he could find some love for her, maybe he, Sharon and Y/n could find some comfort within each other and be happy together.

The next day Bucky knocked on her door just for there to be no answer, he had finally asked Sharon to let him spend some time on his own with Y/n and now that he was trying she wasn’t answering her door. Walking into the hall where Steve was sitting he asked him if he had seen her.

“Saw her going outside earlier.” The blond said without looking up.

The usual loud chatter from the market hit his ears as he made his way outside, as he looked around he saw children laughing and running around and that’s when he saw her. Running behind them before grabbing one of the children whose scream caused a few people to look over, he watched with curiosity as Y/n and this child started to chase after the others, one by one they were all caught.

As Y/n caught her breath Bucky made his way over to her. “What’s all this?”

“P-playing… a game.” She smiled behind him, as Bucky turned around he felt a small hand on his leg.

“You’re it!” The child shouted before running.

“What? What do I do?” He asked Y/n who was slowly walking backwards.

“You chase us. First person you grab helps you get the rest.”

“Why are you walking away?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.” He smirked taking slow steps towards her.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Stop walking away.”

“I’m not.” Looking around she sees one of the kids, and ever the adult she gestures towards the little girl. “There’s one over there.”

And ever the fool Bucky looked over, Y/n taking that as her queue she bolted. He laughed before chasing after the child she had outed. It slowly became just her that was needed to be caught, she squinted her eyes at the children in front of her as they walked slowly towards her - huge smiles on their little faces.

A scream tore through her throat when she felt arms wrap around her frame. Bucky’s laugh hit her ears as he picked her up and spun them around. “Got you.”

“I think my heart stopped beating!” Turning around in his arms she smiled up at him.

“I’m sorry Princess.” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear he heard the stuttered breath she released. They didn’t realise that they were still standing there holding onto each other until a child came up and tapped on her leg.

“Play more?”

“Y-yes, sorry.” Pulling away from Bucky’s arms she smoothed out her dress. “Let’s play.”

As the game progressed more and more kids asked Y/n if they could play too which she smiled instantly and nodded, Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he smiled or laughed as much as he did right now. George sat on the steps to the great hall with Winnie sitting on the step above him, both watching in amusement as Bucky grabs Y/n’s hand and helps her escape from the clutches of the children.

Behind them Sharon stood there with a sour look on her face.

Y/n and Bucky had been married for just shy of a year, as she said she would pretend that they had a loving marriage and she did. To well. Sometimes Bucky had to remind himself that it was all an act and that she was just doing what he wished. There were talks amongst the people of the fact that Bucky had two wives and yet no children were born, the whispers of Y/n being barren had made its way to her ears which caused her to worry that she would never be a mum but she never showed that those whispers got to her.

In the months that passed Bucky and Y/n had fell into a routine where they would spend as much time together as they could in front of people and behind closed doors they would spend a whole day together once a week - Bucky wanted more days but Sharon had gotten angry at him and put on the waterworks so Y/n asked for one day, Sharon agreed. Even on their one day together the blonde would always make her presence known and nine out of ten times Y/n would just leave the married couple alone.

The people never shied away from letting their love known for the princess, she had been seen more than once helping people carry a variety of things and would always wave them off when they tried to thank her, she would keep the children entertained by playing different games always including everyone; said children would always gift her wildflowers that they had picked from inside the woods - never batting an eye when Sharon who would be standing right next to Y/n made a comment about her never getting any flowers. That caused an argument between the blonde and Bucky which made everyone around the dinner table very uncomfortable. Y/n had once helped a stall owner sell his goods by standing on a wooden crate and put on a show of the goods on his table, she even managed to convince Steve and Sam to buy something.

And then there was her helping the farmers with their animals, not caring for a second about getting her hands or dresses dirty. One time Winnie gasped before bursting out laughing when Y/n walked into the great hall with mud on her face, her hair looking like a birds nest, a huge smile on her face as she told them that she had delivered eleven piglets all on her own.

It wasn’t just the people who loved her - George enjoyed her company and love how she would listen to his stories with fascination, Winnie loved her as if she was her very own, always excited for dinner time just so she could see Y/n. Rebecca loved how Y/n would accompany her for walks along the beach, arm in arm they would talk about random things and Rebecca felt like for the first time she could be open and honest without the fear of being judged. Even Sam and Steve enjoyed the company of the princess once she finally spoke to them without a stutter.

Bucky found himself dreaming of Y/n as he slept next to his first wife, every time they had sex his thoughts would be on his wife that was just across the hallway on her own - the very one who had stolen everyone’s hearts, including his very own. He knew that Sharon had seen the lingering looks he had given the princess, he knew that everyone had seen the way his eyes lit up whenever Y/n was nearby. His heart ached when she would drop his hand the second they were away from prying eyes but he knew it was his fault, he had told her that all their marriage was - was for duty, nothing more, nothing less. Bucky was now regretting his words. He wished nothing more than to go back and take those words back.

Sharon hated her. Plain and simple. And she didn’t once try to conceal it. She hated that the attention Bucky would lavish her with was depleting as the days went by, he had promised her that nothing would change but it was even if it was being done slowly. Sharon couldn’t understand why everyone loved Y/n, okay she was born a princess and had been known for her beauty but other than that she was just a woman the same as she, and in her eyes Y/n wasn’t as beautiful as everyone made her out to be. Every time Y/n and Bucky spend their day together she made it her sole mission to disrupt that, her excuses ranged from she was just walking by and saw them to she missed him, she smirked in victory every time Y/n got up and left in silence - seeing the hurt look on Bucky’s face when he realised she was gone brought her great satisfaction.

Since Y/n came out of her shell she along with Winnie and Rebecca would have their breakfast together in the hall where they would discuss a new pattern to add to the tapestry that they were making in pure boredom, when Y/n didn’t show up for breakfast they didn’t think anything of it as it wasn’t unusual for her to miss the meal once or twice but when she didn’t show up to continue with the tapestry, Winnie made her way into Y/n’s room to check on the young girl, frowning when she saw her being sick rushing over to hold her hair back with one hand the other rubbing her back. “Are you alright sweet girl?”

“F-fine now, thank you Winnie.”

“Fetch the physician. Quickly.” Winnie says to the thrall who was helping Y/n stand.

“I-I think I ate something that hasn’t agreed with my stomach. I will be fine now.”

“I kept being sick and then I found out I was carrying James. It was the same with Rebecca.” Winnie smiled, her hand resting softly on Y/n’s stomach.

“That would be impossible for me.”

“How do you mean dear?”

“W-we haven’t laid together.” She admitted quietly.

“What? Not since your wedding night?”

“We’ve never…”

“B-but we heard-“

“That was him and Sharon. As I said it’s most likely something I ate.”

“Right. Right okay. Well the physician will give you some herbs and you’ll be better.”

The physician did as Winnie said by giving her some herbs and telling her that she needed to rest, Winnie pressed a kiss to Y/n’s head as she slept.

Y/n had woken up to Benny meowing in her face, slowly getting up out of the bed she went and opened the window for him to jump out and get some fresh air. As she stood there feeling the cold breeze against her face she heard the door open and close, thinking it was her thrall she was surprised to see Bucky standing there.

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“You told my mum that we haven’t laid together, why?”

“Because she thought I was with chi-“

“So you told her?”

“I couldn’t lie to her James.” Getting nervous from the stare he was giving her she whispered. “Please leave.”

Within seconds he was in her face with his hand wrapped around her neck squeezing tightly. “You are my wife. You do not talk to anyone about our marriage, do you understand?”

“Y-yes.”

“She shouted at me for not consummating our marriage so that’s what we’re going to do now.”

“N-no no please I don’t-“

“Shut up. Shut up!” Dragging her over to the bed he pushed her head into the covers and held her there as she tried to kick him away.

“P-please don’t, plea-no no no stop!”

He pulled up her dress, kicking her legs open before he forced himself into her. She screamed so loudly as the pain ripped through her body, crying out in hopes that someone would come and stop him from his actions. Praying to God that he would stop the man behind her. The covers were wet with her tears, her neck hurting from the force he was holding her down. She didn’t know how long the whole thing had been happening for but she knew she was no longer screaming or fighting him, she knew that the tears were still falling and that he was no longer holding her neck.

Finally after what felt like an eternity he filled her with his seed but didn’t move. “There. We’ve consummated our fucking marriage.” Pulling out of her roughly he tucked himself back into his pants and watched as her knees hit the cold ground. He didn’t say anything else as he left her room and made his way back into his own. Leaving her on her own as the tears refused to stop falling. Leaving her to shake in fear, pain and confusion. Leaving her to cry herself to sleep.

The thrall walked into Y/n’s room the next morning, a frown on her face when she saw that the bed was empty and a mess - she had grown use to seeing Y/n’s bed always neatly made, knowing that she preferred to make it herself - as she went to fix the side of the cover she nearly screamed when she saw the princess curled up in a ball with Benny laying on top of her, the young girl was torn between helping her princess or getting help when she saw the dried blood on her dress and in between her legs.

“Princess Y/n.” Getting down on her knees she made her way closer to Y/n. “Please, please wake up.” When she did finally open her eyes she flinched when she saw the other woman. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll get help.”

“N-no, no please don’t.”

“But someone’s hurt you.” She frowned, helping her sit up she saw the bruises around her neck. “I’ll get-“

“No. No just… please.”

“Okay. I’ll make you a bath.” She goes to stand when Y/n’s hand reaches out for her.

“P-please don’t leave me.”

“I’ll just be in the other room, I won’t go far.”

“Please.”

Helping her stand they walked slowly towards the other room where the large tub sat, somehow she managed to do the job with one hand as Y/n was gripping the other. Helping her clean up she asked once again if she should get some help but the young princess shook her head and pleaded her not to say anything to anyone. Once fully cleaned, dried and fresh clothed Y/n sat on the chair as the thrall changed the covers on the bed.

“I’ll get these cleaned. I’ll get you some food.”

“Please don’t say anything to anyone.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

As the young girl slipped out of the room Y/n stood slowly and made her way over to her bed, Benny jumping up straight away when she got as comfortable as she could. The thought of writing to her brothers and begging them to help her had crossed her mind but she knew she couldn’t, there was nothing wrong with what her husband did even if she begged him to stop, she was his wife which meant he could do as he pleased, it was the cold hard truth. Just before the first tear could fall the door opened once again.

“I told the Queen that you weren’t feeling well, she did say she would come to see you but I managed to convince her that you needed rest.” She smiled sadly, eyeing the bruises around Y/n’s neck. “I brought you some soup.”

“Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Lyra.”

“Thank you Lyra. C-can you sit with me for a while?”

“I won’t leave unless you tell me too.”

Bucky’s smile quickly fell off his lips when he came back in from training with Steve and Sam, seeing his mum sitting on her throne with an annoyed look on her face which turned to anger when she laid eyes on him. He gulped. Bucky was a Viking, he wasn’t scared of anything. Other than his mum.

“What’s wrong?”

“Leave us.” He knew he was in big trouble now. Watching nervously as not only Steve and Sam put their heads down and walked off but all the guards and thralls.

“Mother?”

“How’s Y/n?”

“I haven’t seen her today. Why is there some-“

“When was the last time you laid with her?”

“Mother!”

“When?”

“L-last week.”

“That’s a lie.” Crossing her arms she leaned back in her seat. “Poor girl has been sick and I thought finally, finally I’ll be getting a grandchild imagine my surprise when she told me the two of you have never laid together. Not even on your wedding night.”

“I-Mother-“

“Your first wife-“

“Sharon, her name-“

“Has yet to give you a child. You are wasting your time with her just to let Y/n rot away.”

“They are my wives I will do as I please!”

Standing abruptly she watches as her son flinches as she makes her way down the three stops towards him. “I’ll be talking with your father about having your marriage to Y/n annulled and set that poor girl free, I know a King that is looking for a wife. She’d make a very fine Queen.”

“N-no. No you can’t do that, father won’t do that.”

“Why wouldn’t he? I know one of Y/n’s brothers is looking for a wife and Rebecca is of age to marry, annul your marriage and marry those two together, we still have their loyalty.” She smiled and nodded, mainly to herself, which made Bucky flare his nostrils in anger. “Now get out of my face.”

Bucky was fuming. He paced back and forth outside her room trying to figure out what he was going to do, he didn’t want to lose Y/n, he didn’t want their marriage annulled, he didn’t want her to marry someone else. He was angry at her for telling his mum the truth, he was angry at his mum for ruining the fantasy he was happy to live in by ripping her away from him. But mostly he was angry at himself, he should have spent their wedding night with her and not Sharon, he should be spending more than one poxy day with Y/n, when he was thinking of her whilst inside of his first wife he should have been with Y/n instead.

Before he could even process what he was doing he was standing in Y/n’s room watching as she leaned against the frame of the window, a short giggle leaving her lips which he knew that there was no doubt that she was watching Benny - probably trying to attack the flowers that grew under her window. He asked her why, and then before he knew it he had his hand wrapped around her throat, then he had her on the bed, sighing contently when he made himself home inside of her. Bucky knew she was screaming and crying but that didn’t stop him, it’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? That’s why she had told his mum that their marriage wasn’t consummated, he was doing what she wanted, doing to it keep her in their marriage so she didn’t have to marry this King his mum knew.

He awoke with a sharp exhale, sweat pouring down his face and naked torso, he saw the blonde hair belonging to Sharon next to him, closing his eyes tightly he tried to rid himself of the nightmare he had - only opening them quickly when he got flashes of that nightmare. Raping a woman was something Bucky would never dream of doing but yet he was having a nightmare of doing the very same thing to his own wife.

Bucky didn’t know when he started crying until Sharon put her hand on his back. “Jamie, what’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.”

“You’re crying.”

“Just a bad dream that’s all.”

“Okay.” He felt her shift behind him, he didn’t even look up when she swung her legs over his lap. “I know how to make you feel better.”

“Not in the mood Sharon.”

“Come on James, I’ll make you-“

“No.”

“Jamie please, I need you.”

“I said no!” Pushing her off him, he stood quickly before she had the chance to climb on him again. “Fuck sake.”

“What’s wrong with you?” She snapped.

“Nothing.”

“It’s because of her isn’t it?”

“Who?”

“Her! Across the hall!”

“Y/n. Her names Y/n.”

“So it is about her- don’t walk away from me! What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed and going for breakfast.”

“But we’re talking about her.”

“No we aren’t.” Putting on his shoes he threw a dress at her and told her to get dressed.

As he made his way down the hallway he saw a thrall carrying covers, he frowned when he saw the blood staining on it. Bucky was going to ask where it came from but Sam came up behind him, silently walking into the hall where the dining table was already set up with his parents sitting together and Rebecca barely managing to keep her eyes open. Sharon came in minutes later, not saying anything to him as she moved her seat further away.

“Lyra.”

“Yes my Queen.”

“Has Princess Y/n woken yet?”

“She has but she’s still not feeling well.”

“I’ll come and see her.”

“No! The Princess needs rest, my Queen.”

“Um. Okay, please let me know if she needs anything.”

“Yes my Queen.”

Bucky’s frown deepened when he realised that the thrall his mum had just spoken to was the same one in the hallway with the blooded covers.

Throughout the whole day Bucky couldn’t settle, every time he sat down his knee bounced, every time he stood he paced back and forth, there was something wrong but he couldn’t pin point it. He couldn’t shake it. Not even the day after or the day after that, he had woken after having the same nightmares, before he realised what he was doing he had walked out of his room and across the hall knocking lightly on Y/n’s door. Although no answer came he went inside first thing he hears is the hissing coming from Benny - standing protectively in front of his mama - Bucky frowned wondering why the little one was hissing at him when they had formed a bond ever since they had met.

“It’s me… James.” He whispered to the small but fierce creature. Walking slowly towards the bed his eyes widened when he saw the dark bruises around Y/n’s neck. “Y/n! Y/n wake up!”

Startling awake she flinched at seeing who was in her room. “J-James.”

“Who hurt you?” His eyes eying up the bruises. “Tell me who’s done this.”

He couldn’t understand why she frowned, giving him a puzzled look as her hand made its way slowly to her neck. “Y-you.”

“What? No I didn’t, I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The next words that came out of her mouth had him stumbling backwards as if she had struck him with the sharpest blade known to man. His heart pounding in his chest, he felt sick, sweaty and cold at the same time as his eyes filled up with tears as he frantically looked around the room, the memories of what he had done flashing right in front of him. “Y-you forced yourself on me.”

He shook his head, stuttering out sorry over and over before stumbling out of the room and down the hallway where he found his mum sitting at the dinner table on her own most likely waiting for everyone to join.

“James?”

“M-mother.” A broken sob fell from his lips as his legs buckled from underneath him, Winnie was quick to stand and run the distance between them just in time before his knees hit the ground.

“What happened? James? What’s-“

“I hurt her! I hurt her in the worst way!” He kept repeating clutching his mums dress tighter in his hands. Winnie continued trying to sooth him and get him to answer who he had hurt. Pulling away he roughly whipped his face. “Annul our marriage. Please. Mother you have to, I hurt her!”

“Y/n? James… what did you do?”

“I don’t remember mother I swear!”

“James!”

“I-I r-raped her.” As soon as those words came out of his mouth Winnie stood up, running out of the hall and down the corridor.

Winnie wasted no time in wrapping her arms around Y/n when seeing the bruises decorating her neck, promising her that she was going to get her out of this marriage she tried to keep Y/n closer to her when she pulled back.

“Then you lose my father’s loyalty, his army as well as my uncles.”

“Rebecca will marry your brother, it will-“

“You can’t. My brother is to marry in a months time.” Leaning over to her side table she handed Winnie the letter she received the day before. “James only did his job as a husband. Now that he has consummated our marriage we can go back to pretending.”

Looking up from the letter Winnie asked. “What are you talking about?”

“He was mad at me for telling you the truth.”

“T-this is all my fault.”

“It isn’t. I swear.” Covering Winnie’s hands with her own she smiled sadly. “I know my duty Queen Winifred, I assure you that I will not cause any more trouble.”

“Fuck duty! You are his wife, you are a woman who doesn’t deserve any harm done to her. This is my fault, I thought you two were happy and having a real marriage b-but I was wrong. I am truly sorry Y/n.”

They went back and forth for a while before Lyra walked in, instantly freezing at the doorway at seeing her Queen sitting on the bed. With the door being open they could hear George shouting from the hall, Winnie gave Y/n a forced smile before leaving - silently hoping that her husband hadn’t just killed their son. As she made her way around the corner she saw James on the ground where she had left him with George pacing in front of him, her husband would normally calm down instantly when he laid eyes on her but he didn’t, he continued shouting and calling James all the names he could think of.

“Enough.” She said to her husband though he didn’t hear her over his shouting. “Enough!” George went quiet, his latest angry word dying on his tongue as she raised her voice.

“What he did to her is not acceptable!”

“I know. You know and so does he, thats why he told us. I am to blame for what he did-“

“How is it your fault? You didn’t tell him to force himself on his wife.”

“No I didn’t but I was angry at him for not consummating his marriage to her.”

“M-Mother w-will annul our marriage-“

“Shut up!” George hissed at him. “When?” He asked Winnie.

“I can’t. The plan was to marry Rebecca to Y/n’s brother but she received a letter saying that he’s getting married in one month time. We lose Y/n we lose her father.” As she spoke she could hear Bucky mumbling ‘no’. “She said she will continue to pretend, that it is her duty.”

“That poor girl.” George whispered, giving his son a once over he walked out of the hall without another word.

Bucky was quite aware of how pathetic he looked on his knees crying over an act he had committed against the one person he silently vowed to never hurt, he knew he needed to fix the atrocities he had done but how? Getting her flowers would be an insult. Truly apologising wouldn’t stop the pain she felt. He had no excuse good enough to explain what he had put her through other than his mind going blank. He couldn’t set her free now that her brother was marrying.

Catching a glimpse of his hands made him want to chop them off, be sick until there was nothing left to come out. He knew that he would never be able to sit at the great table of Valhalla feasting with Odin and the greatest Vikings to ever exist. The Gods were no doubt thinking of ways to punish him. A punishment he wouldn’t fight against.

Bucky woke with a sharp slap across his face. Sharon on top of him looking angrier than he had ever seen her. He had no idea how he had gotten into bed - finding out later that it was Steve and Sam that dragged him there after he cried himself to sleep on the hall floor.

“You arsehole!”

“I know.”

“You fucked her! You promised me you wouldn’t touch her!”

Another slap.

And another.

She went in for a fourth when his hand wrapped around her arm in mid air. “I promised nothing to you. She’s my wife Sharon.”

“No I’m your wife, me!”

“Get off me.” She didn’t budge. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“You lied to me, you said you wouldn’t fuck her and you did!”

“I raped her!” He shouted. “There’s a fucking difference.”

“You still-“

Pushing her off him Bucky got out of bed and got dressed, he could hear her in the background still shouting at him but he paid no attention to her. Slamming the door behind him just before a cup came into contact with his retreating body.

As the sun came up to sit high in the sky Y/n sat on her soft sand watching as the water swayed slowly back and forth, she needed to get out of the room after a month of staring at four walls all day long. George, Winnie and Rebecca visited her room every day and at dinner they would have their food brought to her room especially since finding out that she wasn’t eating, they watched as the light in her eyes dimmed and nothing they did or said brought it back, she no longer laughed or smiled without it being forced, her voice no longer sounded the same. They felt so ashamed of their son and brother because they knew this was his doing.

Not long after the sun came her peace was disturbed when her name was called quietly, looking around she saw Bucky standing there, no longer looking the way he did when they first met.

“C-can… do you want me to go?” His voice was hoarse from lack of use, she had found out from Rebecca that he know longer spoke unless he needed to.

She shook her head, she didn’t see the point in trying to avoid him or their marriage any longer than she already had. Watching as he took slow steps towards her she got a better look at the man as he got closer, his hair wasn’t in the braids she had gotten use to seeing, his eyes didn’t shine the way they did, his beard had grown and didn’t look soft like it once did, but of all she noticed he looked smaller as if he wasn’t eating.

As he sat - making sure to keep enough distance between them both even though he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tightly - his eyes went straight to her neck, the bruises had finally faded though he could still see them as visible as the day he put them there. “Y/n… I-I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I asked the Gods to strike me down for what I did. I’m so sorry.” Tears were streaming down his face, though his vision was blurred he could see her clear as day. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

“It’s fine. It happened and we cannot go back to that night to stop it from happening.”

“It’s not fine Y/n I ra-“

“I know! But hopefully something good has come out of it.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Getting closer to him Bucky flinches when her hand touches his, bringing it closer to her where she rests his palm on her flat stomach. He frowns before his eyes open wide.

“I’m with child. I haven’t had my monthly bleed since that night, the physician confirmed what I already knew.”

Ripping his hand away from her stomach as if touching her burnt him. “No! No, no you have to get rid of it!”

“What?”

“Get rid of it. I don’t want it.”

“You need heirs James.”

“Not from raping their mother I don’t!”

Sighing she took his hand away from where it was tugging on his hair and placed it back onto her stomach. “In my daydreams we stand side by side, before we separate and chase after our children, we are happy and it’s not pretend.”

“That’s in a daydream Y/n doesn’t mean it will come true.”

“It could.”

“What? After what I did?”

“Yes. I’ve seen and heard how you’ve tortured yourself, many men don’t care about the damage they leave behind but you do. We can be happy.”

“W-what about Sharon? Is she in your daydreams?”

“That is your choice, not mine.”

He didn’t know what to say so he nodded, his hand still resting on her stomach with his thumb rubbing the area. “I swear I will never hurt you again, I promise.”

When they got back to the great hall everyone was eating breakfast where they all stopped and stared at them with shock written all on their faces, seeing them standing there together was something none of them had expected. The words of Y/n being with child fell from his lips quicker than she expected, Winnie’s eyes lit up for a split second before dimming quickly - knowing how the babe came to be caused her to have mixed feelings. Sharon started screaming and calling Y/n horrendous names whilst she cursed the unborn babe, then lunged at the other woman, only to be stopped by Bucky who stood protectively in front of her. Bucky stood there taking the assault from Sharon’s fist whilst Winnie had Y/n in her arms and moving her towards the table where Steve and Sam stood guard of her without being told.

George ended Sharon’s assault on Bucky by yelling her name so loudly everyone flinched, he threatened to kill her if she cursed his unborn grandchild one more time. From that day onwards Steve and Sam became Y/n’s guards.

That was seven months ago.

The first time Bucky saw Y/n’s stomach starting to grow he nearly tripped over, his eyes glued to her stomach, like Winnie he had mixed feelings about the unborn babe on one hand he was excited to finally have a child but on the other he felt guilty of how it came to be. The first time Y/n had let him touch the growing bump he cried, the first time he felt their babe move around his eyes went wide and filled with tears, asking if it was hurting her, his favourite thing to do was talk to the bump - he liked describing their surroundings making Y/n walk to different rooms of the great hall, market, woods and the beach, describing to the bump it’s family that couldn’t wait to meet them. Once when Y/n had fallen asleep he went into full detail of how their mother looked from the way her hair was always soft and smelled of lavender, how her eyes always shined a little bit brighter when her favourite meal was placed in front of her, how her nose scrunched up when she smiled, how her lips always looked soft and how she would nibble on her bottom lip when she was concentrating. He told his unborn babe everything he knew about its mother, telling it that he couldn’t wait to meet them, promising that he would love them and be there for them no matter what.

In the months that passed Bucky and Y/n got closer, no one ever saw one without the other, the people loved seeing their Prince and Princess together - the children weren’t happy that they could no longer play games but the girls loved sitting with Y/n and make flower crowns, they would make way to many so they would hand them out to everyone in the market even Winnie would sit on the porch wearing one.

Y/n sat next to Bucky with Sam and Steve sitting across the table from them laughing and telling stories of when they were younger, Bucky pulling different plates closer to Y/n as she nibbled on meats then fruits, when she eyed up the bowl of nuts that Sam was hogging he didn’t bat an eye as he took the bowl from his friend and handed it to his wife. The laughter died down rather quickly when the deafening sound of the horn pierced through the walls, the door came open with two guards standing there telling them that they were under attack.

Helping Y/n stand Bucky pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Get my mother and Sharon and hide in your room, barricade the door until I come for you.”

She didn’t get far when Winnie and George came running out of their room, George nearly word for word said what Bucky had said - though he didn’t mention Sharon - Winnie’s hand was on Y/n’s back as they rushed towards Bucky’s room, the older woman gasps in shock with Y/n staring with wide eyes at seeing Sharon naked on top of one of her guards… neither one knowing that they had an audience as Sharon kept bouncing. That was until Winnie said her name, the blonde screamed and tried to cover herself up.

“I-it’s not-“

“We’re under attack. Get dressed.” Turning to the man who looked he was trying to blend into the bedding. “And you get out there!”

As they made their way to Y/n’s room Sharon was trying to explain what they had seen, but neither one of the women listened to focused on barricading the door to Y/n’s room once she made sure that Benny was in the room too - finding him curled up in the cradle Bucky had made with the help from George. Winnie was trying to find other things to barricade the door, Sharon was still trying to justify what they had walked in on - begging them not to tell Bucky - whilst Y/n was looking out of the window, her heart breaking at seeing the flames that were burning homes to the ground.

“Come here! Quick!” Opening the window when she saw children running. “Winnie help!” Both women leaning over to help the children up and through the window. “Sharon, get them in the back room.”

Some of these children were the same ones she would play games with, all of them clinging on to Winnie and Y/n with tears streaming down their faces. Winnie clung onto one of the younger ones, Y/n’s heart stopped. Henri. A young boy who always had the largest smile on his face showing off his missing teeth was being chased by a large man. Henri was deaf. So without thinking Y/n used a chair to help her climb out of the window, Winnie paled when she saw her daughter in law who was heavily pregnant retreating body.

Running as fast as she could in her condition she watched as the man knock Henri down, bile rising in her throat when she sees him pulling his trousers down as well as Henri’s, picking up the thickest stick she could see, and using all her strength she whacked the man at the back of his head. Grabbing Henri she tried to calm him down and show him who she was, holding his hand she moves quickly towards the window where Winnie was watching the scene with horror written all over her face.

Then Y/n stopped. A warm sensation in between her legs. Tugging on Henri’s arm she pointed towards the window and mouthed ‘Go.’ Hearing the man groan, she turned around and watched as he sat up, pushing Henri away she sighed as his little legs ran towards safety.

“You fucking bitch! I’m going to have fun ruining you!” Just as he lunged forward she stumbled backward, tripping over and landing harshly on her back. “You’re making this easy for me.”

He got on top of her and pulled her dress up, her hands were stretched out trying to find something to use to get him off of her, panic rising and pain intensifying she saw the handle of a dagger on his hip, just as he pulled his trousers further down she reached out and grabbed the dagger.

“What are you going do with that? Princess you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I am a princess, yes, but I will not hurt myself.” She says lowly before ramming the blade into his neck.

“Princess Y/n? Gods!” She heard the familiar voice of one of the farmers. He got the man off of her and helped her stand. “What are you doing out here?”

“Henri. He’s safe.”

“My boy? I-I couldn’t find him, where is he?”

“My room. Go.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“M-my waters broke, I won’t be able to get through the window.”

“Shit-okay. Okay. I know where to take you. Come.”

Winnie watched as Y/n limped off with a man she didn’t recognise from where she was, she turned to face Sharon seeing her sitting on the floor crying and still pleading with her to not tell Bucky what she had been doing, rolling her eyes she knelt down in front of her. “Sharon you need to protect these children, do you understand?”

“He’ll be mad. Winnie please-“

“Sharon! This isn’t time for you to be an idiot, lock the window behind me and protect these children.”

“Please Winnie it was an acci-“ Winnie cuts her off by smacking her across the face.

“Lock the window. Protect the children. What do you have to do?”

“L-Lock the window and protect the children.”

“Good.” Winnie helped her stand and together they moved towards the window, standing on the chair Winnie climbed out, just as Sharon was about to shut the window Benny jumped out and ran in the direction where Y/n had walked off in. Making sure Sharon did as she was told Winnie followed Benny. Benny led her towards an old shack near the water, where she could hear Y/n panting and groaning. Cautiously moving closer Winnie picked up a stick, blowing out a breath she yanked open the door.

“Winnie?”

“I’ll save you Y/n!”

“No! No Winnie it’s Karl! The farmer, he helped me!”

With her arms raised in the air, Winnie looked at the man. “Oh. Oh.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to rescue you.”

“With that?” Pointing at the stick in her mother in laws hand Y/n raised her eyebrow.

It was a long twig.

“I- a lot of damage can be done with this…” Karl looked at Y/n, both burst out laughing. “What? I could have poked his eye out! Stop laughing!”

“S-sorry.” Karl stuttered, realising that he was laughing at the Queen.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

“My waters, they have broken.”

“Shit.”

Bucky wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand as the last one of the raiders went down, he ignored the pain in his leg from where he had been slashed - looking for his dad amongst the chaos, finding him searching for their fallen men. Everyone was rushing to get water to put out the fires of the many homes that had been destroyed, despite the attack happening during the night and them not being prepared they hadn’t lost many people which was a blessing from the Gods.

“Son, go and check on your mother and wife.” George said coming over to him, blood dripping from his clothes. “I’ll write to Rebecca and get her to delay her trip, she shouldn’t have to see this.”

Nodding Bucky patted his father on his shoulder and turned around to head into the great hall, knocking on Y/n’s door he frowned in confusion at hearing a child’s voice then Sharon’s. “J-Jamie?”

“Yeah it’s me, open up.” He heard things being moved from behind the door. Slowly it came open and Sharon’s red-tear stained face came into view. “Where did these children come from?”

“J-Jamie I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad.”

“What? Where’s Y/n? Where’s my mum?”

“I-I didn’t mean too!”

“What did you do?” Pushing inside he saw many children huddled up together in the back room looking petrified. “Where are they?”

“I don’t-“

“Sharon!” He yelled, his heart racing, his eyes searching her face for answers. His eyes snap from her to his hand where a smaller hand was holding his. Henri. The young boy points towards the window then drags him towards it. “Out there?” He spoke slowly so Henri could understand what he spoke, watching as the boy nods. Thanking him Bucky rushed out of the room ignoring Sharon’s pleading.

The second he stepped outside a man came running over to him. “Prince James! Come quick it’s Princess Y/n.”

“I-Is she hurt?”

“She’s in labour.”

George watches with Sam and Steve as Bucky runs off, they share a glance with one another before following. The screams that pierced the night air caused Bucky to flinch as he got closer to the shack, walking in on his mum delivering his babe wasn’t something he was expecting - George had to push him towards his wife that was trying to find something strong to grab ahold of.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Pushing back her hair with one hand he gave her his other. “You’re doing amazing.”

“One more push Y/n and babe number two will be here.” Winnie smiled.

“Hear that? Our babe will be here.” With the adrenaline pumping through his body Bucky didn’t register his mums words, to focused on encouraging his wife and telling her that she was the strongest person he knew.

After one final big push Y/n’s whole body sagged as cries of her babe filled the shack. “It’s a girl, a beautiful girl.” Winnie beamed.

“Our beautiful girl.” Bucky’s face was wet with tears as Winnie handed him his daughter. He pressed a kiss to his daughter’s head then moved to press a lingering kiss to Y/n’s. “I’m so proud of you.”

George asks Karl to fetch the physician - who nods and runs off - standing with Steve and Sam they watch Winnie hand Bucky something, he frowns, then his eyes go wide - moving between the babe in his arms to the babe in his mums arms to Y/n. “T-two?” Winnie nods with a smile and hands him his other child. “Y/n… we have two babes.”

Y/n smiles weakly. “It’s a boy.”

“I don’t care. We have two children, two beautiful children.” He honestly didn’t care if both were girls just as long as they were finally in his arms and healthy. He couldn’t take his eyes off of their two babies as they slept peacefully in his arms.

When the physician did their checks and told them it was safe to move the princess - very carefully - Bucky handed his babes over to Winnie and George and picked Y/n up slowly, by the time they got back to her room she was fast asleep in his arms. Reluctantly waking her up when the thralls needed to clean her and get her dressed. Everyone left him watching over Y/n and their babies not that he realised as his eyes wouldn’t move away from the cradle that he moved closer to the bed.

“Bucky?”

“Hi sweetheart.”

“Are they okay?”

“Perfect. They’ve got your nose.” He chuckled.

“C-Can I hold them? I haven’t been able to yet.”

“Of course! Let’s get you sat up.” Helping her sit up he sorted the cushions behind her back and made sure she was comfortable before handing over their babies.

“The wet nurses have already fed them when you was asleep.”

“Good. I love them already.”

“So do I.” Bucky smiled. “What do you want to name them?”

“That’s up to you.”

“How about I name our girl and you name our boy?”

“Okay. I want to name him Silas after my younger brother.”

“I-I didn’t know you had a younger brother?”

“He didn’t survive the birth but my mum named him Silas after her brother.”

“Silas is a perfect name for him.”

“What about her? What do you want to call her?”

“Astra.”

“Silas and Astra.” Y/n smiles down at the sleeping babes. Looking up at Bucky her smile drops, seeing the dried blood on his face reminded her of what happened before she gave birth to her two sleeping beauties. “How many did we lose?”

“Not many, we were lucky.” Then Bucky remembered that she was outside her room when he had told her to stay there until he came for her. “What was you doing outside? You could have been hurt or-or worse!”

“I saw children running so I opened the window and helped them inside, then I saw man chasing Henri an-Bucky he was going to rape him so I climbed out and attacked him-“

“You-Y/n!”

“What? I couldn’t let him do that to an innocent child!”

“No I know but anything could have happened.”

“Well… he knocked me onto my back and pulled my dress up but I grabbed his knife and I erm I killed him.”

He blinked. His jaw dropped. He didn’t know whether to be angry or be proud of her for protecting herself and saving the lives of the children. “I-you-Gods.”

“So… yeah.”

“Next time please listen to me.”

“Okay.”

“I thought Sharon did something to you.” He confessed, watching Silas wrap his tiny hand around his finger.

“Why?”

“All she kept saying was sorry and that she didn’t mean to, so I thought she had hurt you.” He feels Y/n tense beside him and an uncomfortable look on her face. “Y/n?”

“You should talk to her.”

“Why what’s happened?”

“Just talk to her James.”

Although he wanted to know what was going on he decided not to push the subject, instead he climbed into the bed next to Y/n. “You need to rest.”

“I don’t want to let them go.”

“Lay them down in between us.”

Winnie wasn’t a violent person, no, but when it came to her family she would do anything to protect and defend them, she was so close to smacking Sharon’s head off the wall as the blonde continued to ignore her. Winnie had told her no multiple times, watching her son’s first wife like a hawk as she kept trying to get into Y/n’s room. She took her eye off Sharon for a second to talk to one of the thralls and when she looked back Sharon was practically running down the corridor.

“Gods Sharon stop!”

“I just want to see him.”

“No. Leave him alone with his family.”

“I’m his wife!”

“He’s with his wife and babes now leave him- Gods!” Sharon didn’t listen. Opening the door she falters seeing Bucky fast asleep with his arm over Y/n’s waist, two sleeping babies in between them - Benny curled up on the pillow above the twins. “Sharon please leave.” Winnie hissed under her breath.

“James wake up!”

“Sharon!”

“James!” The blonde shouted causing all four in the bed to wake up.

Bucky’s attention was on Silas and Astra as the two started to cry, helping Y/n sit up and free her breast he passed Astra to her. Turning to face Sharon and Winnie he could feel the anger radiating off his mum. “What’s going on?”

“I tried to keep-“

“You didn’t come to bed last night Jamie.” Y/n’s eyes widened slightly keeping her eyes trained on Astra as she fed from her. Sharon was treading on thin ice with the way she kept interrupting her Queen.

“I was with Y/n and our babes.”

“Our?”

“Yes mine and Y/n’s.”

“But… what about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m your wife James! You only married her for duty remember, you said so and now you’re pushing me away all because she had babes with you! It’s not fair!”

Handing over Silas to Y/n and taking Astra into his own arms, he turned to Sharon. “I love her! I love our children. Please just leave.”

“Y-you love her? No. No you cannot.”

“Sharon let’s just leave.” Winnie tried. Bucky’s admission left not only Sharon stunned but herself and Y/n, Winnie guessed that Bucky was finally developing real feelings for his second wife ever since he found out she was carrying his child, it was nice to hear him admit it.

“No! He is my husband! This whore will not take him away from me!”

Bucky’s nose flared in anger, shifting a sleeping Astra in his arms he went to get out of the bed only stopping when Winnie burst out laughing. “Sorry. Sorry, I just find it funny that the woman fucking another man behind her husbands back calls another woman a whore.”

Y/n went stiff. Bucky frowned. Sharon went pale and Winnie looked pleased with herself, the only sound in the room was Silas suckling hungrily.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“Nothing! Jamie you know your mum hates-“

“I’m talking to my mother.” He snapped. “What are you talking about?”

“Last night when we went to get Sharon from your room we saw her fucking her guard.”

“She’s lying!” Sharon shouted, her hands clasped together shaking.

“That’s why she kept saying sorry and that she didn’t mean to.” Y/n whispered. Although she wasn’t fond of the blonde she didn’t want her accusing Winnie of lying, but yet she found herself worried about the other woman - in her kingdom a man murdered his wife for having an affair, she didn’t know what Bucky was going to do to Sharon.

Looking at Sharon he could tell that Y/n and his mum were telling the truth because it was written all over her face. “How long?”

“J-just the one time.”

“Stop lying. How long.”

“Jamie please.”

“How long Sharon!”

“S-since you found out that you had to marry the princess.”

“For two years? W-why? Who is he?”

“Because I was angry at you James!”

“Who is he?”

“All of them.”

Bucky felt that air empty his lungs. “All of your guards?” Watching her nod he felt like he was going to be sick. He loved Sharon, he really did, marrying Y/n wasn’t something he wanted but he had no choice and that’s why he was honest about it to her when they first met, over time he grew to have love for her then he took her against her will which is something he would forever regret, finding out that he was going to be a father left a bittersweet taste in his mouth and his heart soaring to the news. But he never laid with Y/n, the two hadn’t even shared a kiss and yet the woman who he married out of love had been cheating on him with the guards he had protect her. He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid to not have figured something wasn’t right. “Get out.”

“Jamie-“

“Get out. I won’t ask again.”

Winnie opened the door and ordered the two guards to take Sharon to her room, the blonde screamed, cursing Y/n for opening her mouth, apologising to Bucky. But neither one paid any attention to her. Just as Winnie closed the door she apologised to Bucky, then left them alone.

Getting Astra to settle down after her sleep was disturbed by Sharon’s shouting, he whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It-it’s not my place, she is your wife.”

“But you’re my wife, you should have told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It… it’s fine, I understand why you didn’t tell me.” Looking down at Astra he smiled softly. “You’re not going to break my heart are you? Did you hear that mama? My little star said that she won’t.”

“Did she now?”

“Yes, she even said that she promises to never leave me- oh she just said that she will always be my little star.”

Despite her body still being sore she couldn’t help but laugh at Bucky as he kept having a conversation with a babe that was less than a day old, even including Silas who was too busy drooling on her chest.

After eating breakfast that Lyra brought in Bucky left, shortly after Winnie joined Y/n instantly cooing at the twins as they slept in their cradle. She informed her daughter in law that Bucky was going to talk to Sharon, and that it wasn’t going to end well.

And it was true.

In the great hall Bucky stood before his father and asked for him to grant him a divorce, he had spoken to Sharon in their room trying to understand why she had cheated on him and all she kept saying was that she was sorry - it was starting to piss him off. Truth be told, Bucky wouldn’t have been so hurt if it was just the once with one guy but she had been sleeping with every single member of her guards for two years - he couldn’t forgive her for that. He never thought that he would be standing in front of his father asking for him to grant him a divorce from a woman he had loved since he was seventeen, the woman he had defended against his parents, best friends and people. Hearing her cries and pleading had no effect on him whatsoever as George granted him the divorce, Bucky removed his wedding ring he had from his marriage with Sharon and dropped it on to the ground before walking away, leaving Sharon crying on the floor.

Eight years had passed since the birth of Silas and Astra, and since Bucky divorced Sharon.

A week after the divorce Sharon had managed to break into Y/n’s room after being kicked out of the great hall, Y/n awoke to seeing the blonde leaning over the cradle where the babes slept and at first she thought it was one of the wet nurses who had been helping her with feeding the twins but she quickly realised that something wasn’t right, getting the woman’s attention she saw Sharon standing there with a blade to Silas’s neck.

“It’s not fair.”

“P-please don’t hurt them.”

“It’s not fair that I cannot have my own children. It’s not fair that I am punished.”

“No-no it isn’t, please-“

“I thought it was Jamie’s fault an-and that’s why I slept with the guards, I thought if it worked then I knew I wasn’t at fault. But then he fucked you once and you were with child, then I knew. I knew it was my fault.” Sharon turned to face her and smiled sadly. “Why are the Gods punishing me?”

“They aren’t-“

“They are! They are punishing me b-but I’m going to get what I want.” Turning to face the babies again she leans down and picks up Silas. “I’m going to love him forever, I promise.”

“No no please Sharon-“

“I deserve this! After everything you’ve put me through!”

“Me? Sharon do you think Bucky will allow you to get away with kidnapping his child?”

“You have another one.”

“Tha-that isn’t the point. Please just put my son down and leave, I-I won’t even tell Bucky about this nonsense but you need to put him down and go.”

“But… but I want a child.”

“I know you do, but you can’t have mine. Leave Sharon!”

Before Sharon could reply the door came open and an angry looking Bucky stood in the doorway. “Put my child down. Now!”

Whether Sharon came to her senses or the tone in Bucky’s voice scared her, she did as she was told. Bucky grabbed her arm roughly which had Y/n jumping out of bed and begged him to loosen his hold but he just ignored her and continued to drag the blonde away. That was the last time Y/n saw Sharon - after pestering Bucky for nearly two weeks of trying to find out what happened to the other woman she found out that he had put her on a boat and paid a man to take her to another village.

It was the last time Sharon’s name was ever mentioned.

As the twins grew the more they were spoilt by everyone around them, especially by Winnie - if they weren’t in Y/n’s arms they were in their grandmother’s. When the people found out that the babes had been born a huge celebration was held, animals were sacrificed to thank the Gods for the safe delivery of the babies, in gratitude for saving the Princess and his grandchildren George gave the deeds to the farm to Karl.

A year later Bucky and Y/n shared their first kiss, it happened when they went on a walk along the beach, Y/n was laughing about a memory from her childhood of when her and her brothers were chased by an angry pig - Bucky laughed picturing her running away from the creature. He didn’t realise that he was leaning in to kiss her until her lips touched his, it was slow, it was timid from Bucky because even though they had twins together they had never kissed before, he was still feeling guilty of how his twins came to be. As they pulled away Y/n smiled shyly at him, then she took his hand and led him back to the great hall, and he just followed like a lost puppy. Once in her room she closed the curtain that separated the twins part of the room to hers smiling at Benny as he watched over the sleeping babes, turning to face Bucky she kissed him and before either one of them realised both stood in front of one another naked, he took his time in exploring her body - the act itself was slow, passionate and intimate.

Later that week George, Bucky and the rest of the army was going on a raid which had them away for eight months, Bucky frowned as he came off the ship once it came to a stop at the docks seeing Y/n standing next to his mum and sister with the twins standing in front of her, it wasn’t until he got closer to his family that he saw his wife’s stomach bigger than it was the last time he saw her.

“Y-you’re?” Y/n nodded to his unspoken question, everyone watched as Bucky dropped to his knees his hands going to the bump that was carrying his babe, pressing his forehead against it. “I should have been here.” As soon as those words came out of his mouth the unborn babe kicked, Bucky and Y/n laughing at the babe agreeing.

Whilst everyone was celebrating a successful raid Bucky kept his arms around Silas and Astra listening to their babbles, his eyes never straying from Y/n as she spoke with Winnie.

A few weeks later he was kneeling beside Y/n as she gave birth to another boy, naming him Harlow, just like the twins he was a splitting image of the both of them.

Two years later Y/n rushed into the hall panicking which instantly had Bucky standing up. “What’s wrong my love?”

“It’s time!”

“What is?”

“Minnie! She’s in labour.” Minnie was the cat she had found injured in the woods, Y/n took the little one home and nursed her back to health. Minnie and Benny became very close… close enough that Y/n married them because as she said they weren’t going to have any bastards.

When four tiny kittens were born Bucky couldn’t stop the laugh from falling from his lips as Y/n cried that she was now a grandmother. His laughter quickly died down when he heard the nose of water hitting the floor.

Their fourth child was born that day. Another beautiful boy, naming him Paxton.

A couple years later George stepped down as King after going on a raid where he was really badly injured, luckily he survived although he probably wished he had died because when they got back and Winnie heard what had happened she smacked him… in his wound. The celebration went well into the night as Bucky and Y/n was announced as King and Queen. Their kids loved the songs that were being played, Astra’s legs swung back and forth as she sat on her fathers lap with her eyes wide open watching in fascination as the dancers did their performances, Silas was to busy playing with Harlow with their wooden swords, and Paxton was on Y/n’s lap with the juice from the grapes he was eating dripping from his chin.

Two months into being King and Queen, Y/n’s screams pierced through the great hall as she gave birth, once again. A babe was handed to Winnie as the midwife told Y/n to keep pushing, Bucky’s eyes went wide when he processed the words from the midwife, another set of twins.

“I-I cannot do it.” Y/n cried, gripping Bucky’s hand tighter.

“You can, sweet girl you can do it. A few more pushes.”

“I’m not having any more after this James! It hurts too much!”

“No more, I promise.” Despite Bucky loving to see her stomach swell with his child he couldn’t stand the pain she had to go through, and plus he was happy with the amount of children they already had. After one more final push the room was filled with the sounds of the cries of another babe. “You did it sweet girl. I’m so proud of you.” Bucky beamed, his eyes moving between Y/n and the thrall that was cleaning up the crying babe waiting to hear what it was.

“I hate you.” She panted. Everyone in the room laughed at her words.

“I love you too.” Pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead.

“A girl and a boy.” Winnie beamed, pressing her own kiss to Y/n’s head.

Their second daughter was born first, they named her Sage, their fourth and final boy was named Atlas. “They are perfect.” Bucky smiled down at the twins.

“Astra was right.”

“What do you mean?”

“She said she had a dream that they were going to be twins.”

“My little star is a daydreamer just like her beautiful mama.”

“I mean it though James.”

“What?”

“We’re not having any more children, if you want more you’ll have to marry-“

“No. It’s just you for me.” Holding her hand he pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “And I don’t want any more children.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure my love.”

When the door came open George walked in with Astra on his back and Paxton in his arms, Silas and Harlow walking in behind him. Bucky watched as his kids - the same ones he never thought he would have - climb slowly and carefully onto the bed, all trying to catch a glimpse of their new siblings. George and Winnie holding each other at the bottom of the bed, Benny and Minnie both jumped down from their spot on the windowsill and jumped up on the bed also trying to catch a glimpse of their new family members.

Bucky watched with a smile on his face feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment at seeing the love of his life with their children. Kissing the side of Y/n’s head he whispered. “I love you.”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[rafayelsbelovedbride]

Wait, how did I miss this???? Tamino???? TAMINO????

A week after I said this ????

I'm not a big fan of the magic flute, but this code name fed my delusions so well 😭

Tamino was deceived into thinking that the Queen's daughter Pamina was kidnapped by an evil demon who was later revealed to be Sarastro who inherited the temple of the sun instead of the Queen of the night. As the story progresses, Tamino and Pamina go through a series of trials, and as they walk through fire and water they enter the temple of the sun. At that moment, the Queen comes back to destroy the temple but in the end, she meets her doom. And that's how the sun overpowers the night.

Honestly, I want to believe that the prophecy told in the tome of the Sea God was meant to mislead Rafayel. The flame in the temple, promised by the prophecy, relies on two lovers stealing the other's hearts to provide the faith that ignites the flame.

But as Rafayel said before, that warm flame is incomparable to the power of the sun. When MC gave her purest worship to Rafayel at the end of the Forgotten Sea, I think he saw that the power promised by the tome was nothing compared to the newborn flame MC gave him.

So maybe after that, Rafayel decided to join "the temple of the sun" and maybe now he's going through the trials. A trial that forbids him from speaking to his Pamina first. And then, the trials that they will face together after the misunderstandings are resolved.

Maybe, in the end, Lemuria will meet its real sun. And maybe, in the end, the flame that illuminates an entire civilization won't come from bloodshed.

And maybe, the reason why Rafayel rejected MC's heart at the end of the Sea of Golden Sand was because he knew that this was not the way to enter the "temple of the sun". He knew that a Lemuria that relied on the suffering of these two lovers was not the place he wanted to live in and was not the place he wanted his followers to live in.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Countermeasure 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jake Jensen

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Jensen and Nano.

Summary: work and personal blur together as an employee takes a special interest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Jake flips up the lid of the box, the smell of pepperoni steaming into the dim glow of monitors. He really should think about cutting down on pizza, it’s starting to give him indigestion, but he just doesn’t have the time to cook. Between work and... his hobbies, he barely gets any sleep. 

That night is not much different than the one before or the next. He burns the roof of his mouth with the first slice as he’s fixated once more on her. The cameras catch her every move as she wafts around the large house like forlorn wraith. The lens gives him a direct line to her loneliness. 

She’s in her silk black robe and matching nightie. They hug her curves perfectly as furry slides cling to her feet. She’s as refined in her leisure as she is standing by his desk asking for an update. 

Nano is a good boss. The first manager he’s had that even understand his job. He delved into her extensive background in development and backend management. She really doesn’t look like the stereotype. But he does. 

She pours herself a glass of wine. The censor for the davenport triggers. He redirects his attention to the white SUV pulling in. Late is not so better than never. Jake is never late. Never for her. 

He switches back to the kitchen where she leans on the square marble island and sips. She’s unaware, or even indifferent, to her husband’s return. The cabernet usually signals that she’s headed for bed. 

She sits up as she hears her husband enter. Andy is in no hurry as he unlaces his shoes then shrugs out of his jacket. Jake should’ve placed the camera on the other side. This angle is awkward. Well, he had limited time when he wired the house. 

She looks over as Andy enters the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything. He mutters and goes to the fridge. He takes out a bottle of beer. 

“Long day,” he pops the cap with his hand. 

“Tell me about it,” she says as she puts the stopper in the bottle and sets in back in the rack. She takes her glass and struts off. He remains and drains half the beer before he follows. 

He finds his wife upstairs. Why he even made her that is a mystery to Jake. He doesn’t treat her like one. Not like a husband should. 

She sits in bed and balances her wine and her ebook. She’s working her way through an interesting fantasy series. It surprised him to know she was so far into it. He always thought she’d be into those romance rags or the bestseller thrillers. 

“You’re mad?” Andy asks as he strips off his blazer. 

She hums. 

“Like I said, long day. Work was a lot.” 

“Andrew,” she doesn’t look up from her book. 

He’s silent as he unbuttons his shirt. He peels it down his arms and drops it in the hamper. He nears the bed as he looks her over. 

“What’d I forget?” He asks. 

She clucks, “you tell me. For once, Andy,” she drops the ebook and empties the glass before slamming it on the night stand. “I’m not your goddamn secretary, I’m your wife.” 

“Honey,” he sighs. “Work--” 

“I work too,” she flicks him away with her fingertips. “But I guess I don’t work as hard as you. Oh, the leftovers are in the fridge. Take them for lunch so they don’t rot.” 

She rolls onto her side and pulls the duvet to her shoulders. Her husband shifts. He shakes his head and continues to undress. 

He comes up beside her and nudges her. She ignores him. He’s persistent. He stretches out behind her and wraps her in his thick arm. 

“Honey, I’m sorry I missed date night. No more excuses,” he purrs as he caresses her cheek. “I love you. I don’t want you to go to bed angry.” 

“Well, I am,” she sneers. 

He kisses her hair and whispers. She doesn’t react. He continues to nuzzle her as his hand roves her body. 

Jake puts the pizza aside. His appetite dissolves. Don’t let him do it. Don’t. He doesn’t deserve it. 

She shimmies over and rolls onto her back. Andy kisses her. She lets him. She lifts the duvet over him and he angles his body over hers. Jake sighs but doesn’t look away. 

He’s hard even if he is burning with jealous. Andy grunts as he shifts around under the duvet. She bends her knees so they poke up on either side of his thick torso. The duvet slips.  

Andy strokes himself as Jake resists the same. Her husband grows frustrated as he struggles to get inside her. She grips his shoulder and reaches down to help him. He huffs and shoves her away. 

He growls and gives up. He bounces off of her and sits on the edge of the bed. He clutches his head as he hunches. She drops her legs. 

“Sorry, I must be tired,” Andy utters. 

She hums derisively. She pulls the blankets over her again, “next time.” 

“Yeah,” her husband scoffs and stands up. 

He crosses the room and rips his robe away from the hook behind the door. He leaves her in a dark cloud and she hangs her head. It’s a while before she moves again. 

She reaches into her drawer and pulls out the little rose gold vibrator. She shuts off the light and he listens to her breathing and her moans. He’s sad for her. She deserves more effort than that. She deserves to be cherished. 

Another camera activates. He hates to look away from the writhing figure on night vision. Andy is in the front room. The glow of his phone is cradled in his hand, his other is... 

Huh. Interesting. How’s it that he can’t get it up for his own wife but he’s down there doing just fine with a screen? Well, Jake can figure it out. He can figure anything out. It’s why he is Nano’s favourite employee. 

[nevereclipse]

Tim Bradford and Y/N.. Tim arrests a model on a call and she seduces him to get out of the arrest

Bad for Business

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Model!Reader (gn)

Genre: fluff, hints of spice

Words: 850

Warnings: use of y/n, y/ln, y/e/c. Vague allusions to sex and sexual preferences, flirting.

Summary: Tim arrests a model on call, and they flirt their way out of it.

A/N: GIRL i was STRUGGLING with this one 😭😭 i hope you like it

----

Of all the things you thought you would get arrested for, stealing from the director of photography at LA Beauty was not one of them. You hadn’t even planned to steal from him, but after eight gruelling hours of photo shoots, some of which you were deeply uncomfortable with, you’d found out he was only going to pay you half of what he’d promised.

Maybe most people would’ve asked him about it, but you were still new to the industry, and unfortunately it was never too late to get fired. Especially not when you were getting paid shit money.

So, yeah, okay, maybe you took a couple hundred-dollar bills from his wallet. Honestly, what did he expect? He was ripping people off while carrying hundred-dollar bills in his wallet.

Still, you hadn’t expected to have a cop knock on your dressing room door and place you under arrest. You especially hadn’t expected the cop to be so damn hot.

“Woah.” You couldn’t help but let out the sound when the cop – Bradford, his name tag said – opened your door.

“Are you Y/n L/n?” He asked, eyes quickly darting over you. His voice was rough, his eyes hard and you at that point you hadn’t realised you were about to be arrested.

So, naturally, you dropped your weight onto your right hip, and purred out, “Why do you wanna know?”

Bradford hadn’t been amused. His tone biting, he’d said, “You’re under arrest for theft, Miss L/n.”

---

Tim was pretty sure a vein in his temple burst when he saw you. That was, he assured himself, the only reason that blood was rushing through his body at the sight of you. At the sight of long stretches of smooth skin, flowing hair, and Jesus Christ, your face. This was not fair. Nor was the way your cherry pink lips opened just slightly when he told you were under arrest.

“What? Wh… I didn’t steal anything…!” You said, and there was a hint of guilt in your voice that you quickly repressed.

“Uh-huh,” Tim said, unimpressed. He pulled handcuffs from his duty belt, “Turn around. Hands behind your back.”

Holy shit. You were actually getting arrested. This was bad – this was very bad. Panic started to form in your stomach: so, you did what you always did to get out of situations that made you panic. You flirted.

Bradford snapped the handcuffs around your wrists just as you said, your voice slightly sultry, “Can’t you think of better things to be with those cuffs, Officer?”

Tim didn’t reply. He’d actually been trying very hard not to think about what other things he could be doing with his cuffs. Very… very… hard…

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…” Tim swallowed thickly as he stated your rights. It provided a weird benefit in that moment. Not only was it a requirement, but it gave him something to focus on to calm his half-hard cock. How were you affecting him this much?

“Turn around.” Tim ordered.

You grinned, quickly shaping it into a smirk. “Hmm, bossy. You know, I like a man who knows how to take control…” Your tongue darted out across your bottom lip, and you didn’t miss the way Bradford’s eyes darkened as he followed the movement. You looked up at him, walking just an inch closer. “Do you like being in control… Bradford?”

You made a show of tracking your eyes down Tims chest until they landed on his name tag, and Tim was suddenly immensely glad that his lifetime of repression had taught him self control.

“Come with me.” He said, leading you out of your changeroom by the hands. One hand sat on the side of your arm, forcing you to walk forward.

“Yeesh, take a girl out for dinner first,” You said, stumbling slightly in your heels. Not a real stumble, but one that let you fall just enough that Tim couldn’t help but reach out and steady you. Under arrest or not, he was a gentleman goddammit.

Unfortunately for Tim, this ended with you half crouched to the ground, hands behind your back, and looking up at him with those goddamn y/e/c eyes.

You looked up from your half kneeling position, bit your lip, and said, “Or don’t. Up to you, Officer.”

And he tried, he really, really tried, but for just a moment, Tim’s control faltered. And in that second, his grip on your arm slipped. And you grinned and it was real this time, and Tim’s head spun and before he knew it you were bolting. You disappeared around a corner, and it took Tim a solid thirty seconds before he even realised what’d happened. Did you just… flirt your way out of getting arrested? Plenty had tried, but you were the first to ever succeed.

“Bradford!” Tim turned at the voice and was greeting by the frowning face of Sergeant Gray. “What the hell just happened?”  

[shewrites02]

Deserve | Toji Fushiguro x Reader |

A/N: My first JJK Work on my page. It just a drabble, but if you follow me for a while this is how all my hype fixations start lol

Request : Open

Word Count : 500

Leave a comment if you enjoy ! :)

Toji knows he doesn’t deserve you. Is reminded with every sweet touch your delicate fingers place on his face. You are everything he is not. Soft. Fragile. Good. Everything the sorcerer hunter is too broken to be. Still, it never made a difference to Toji what he felt he deserved.

He made peace with the type of man he is a long time ago. The type to take with no regard for feelings or apologies. The type to leave a wake of devastation if it meant getting what he wanted.

Toji Fushiguro was not the type of man to let you go just because he knew you deserved better.

“Fuck you Toji- Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. .”

You hope to spit the words venomously, but they come off your tongue in a broken whisper. Dragging the back of your hand across your cheek to clear your tears, you take a sharp breath. An attempt to gather yourself, regain your composure. This bastard does not deserve the tears you shed on him.

“ ‘Superhuman' but can't even look me in the eyes as you reject me.”

“C’mon doll, don’t be like that. I told you I didn’t want anything serious from the beginning.”

Toji’s voice does not quiver or quake in the way yours does. Does not hold any hesitations, or uncertainties. His words are sure, certain.

Something in the conviction of his tone short circuits your brain, has you reacting before you can think. Cocking your shoulder back, you swiftly bring your palm to the sorcerer's cheek, smacking him as hard as you could.

And he lets you.

Toji has faced far tougher opponents than you, and walked away with far less wounds. It wouldn’t have taken him any effort to foil your attack. Instead his head snaps to the side, and that blank look on his face is replaced with a pained smirk. Then his eyes meet yours.

“But you acted like you did ! Begged me to open up to you- !” All composure you might have had is lost as anger and hurt bubbles over in your chest. “ Don’t act like this is my fault.”

It's difficult to breathe. Suddenly all the air so readily available is being sucked away by the presence of Toji Fushiguro. You need to get away from here. Away from him. You need air.

You turn on your heels to head in the opposite direction. Shove through the crowded racing track in search of an exit. You can’t remember where you parked, but that is okay. At this point you would walk home if it means getting away from here.

“Y/n!”

Toji’s voice echoes behind you.There’s a part of you that has to fight the instinct to stop, hearing him out, search for comfort in his words. There another part of you, a larger part that can’t be bothered to listen to any more lies from the lips of fushiguro. That part keeps your head forward, feet plowing into the pavement.

There’s a clasp on your wrist, drawing you back before you can fully cross the exit’s threshold. The grip is unyielding against your persistent attempts to escape. Fear would engulf your body if you weren’t so sure of the culprit, so knowing of the feeling of those fingers against your skin.

“Let me g-”

“It’s my fault-” He proclaims, interrupting any further protesting you had. “ Just mine.”

You hate listening to the words as you speak them. They taste bitter on your tongue. Though that doesn’t outweigh your heart’s need to know.

“Why are you doing this to me Toji- why am I not good enough?”

The soccer hunter’s eyes soften at your words. He even shrinks in on himself, as though trying to shrill up into something smaller. Something more kin to what he’s feeling inside.

“I can’t love you- not like you deserve.”

“No Toji. You just don’t love me enough to try to be what I deserve.”

If you enjoy my content or if you have $5 to spare , please consider donating it to Besan . she is a mother trying so desperately to get her family out of Gaza. She is still so far away from her go fund me goal!

Operation Olive Branch Spreadsheet

I know everyone may not have the means to donate, but if by some chance you have an extra $5 to spare please consider donating it to the families trying to rebuild their lives in the Gaza strip.

[xspeter]

episode two: the weirdo on maple street

˚✧˚. summary: you meet a girl with a buzz cut, finally learn why Conner’s been ignoring you, and get into a blowout fight with your twin brother

m.list

wc: 6.1k

notes: “but kat! we haven’t even had any real interactions with steve yet! isn’t this a steve harrington story?” patience everyone, it’s coming i swear. but i meant it when i said slow burn.

You don’t know what you were expecting when you arrived at The Wheeler residence. Maybe some tears? Some yelling? You can say with full certainty though, that a girl wearing nothing but an oversized benny’s diner shirt and Ted Wheelers jacket all while adorning the cleanest buzz cut you’d ever seen was nowhere near the top of your list. In fact, it wasn’t even on the list!

She stuck out like a sore thumb in the basement, her breathing shallow and her face pale. Mike swallows, turning to look up at you. “We found her in the woods out by Mirkwood.” He explains, but you can’t get yourself to look away from her.

She’s soaked to the bone, her eyes glancing warily between the four of you. “Is there a number we can call? For your parents?” Mike asks.

Dustin looks at her wide eyed, “Where’s your hair? Do you have cancer?”

“Dustin!” You reprimanded.

“Did you run away?”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Is that blood?”

The girl's breathing quickens even more, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say she looked like she was going to have a panic attack. All of the boys' questions are probably overwhelming her, and honestly they were making you anxious as well. “Boys! Enough, okay? She's just scared, and cold.” You say sharply, effectively shutting them up.

You lean down so you’re eye level with the girl, cautiously placing your hand on her knee. She jumps at the contact, but doesn’t make any move to pull away. “Mike, get her something to change into.” You murmur.

He does as he’s told, jogging over to what you’re assuming is his clean clothes hamper. He comes back holding a blue sweater and grey sweatpants. “Here, these are clean.”

You take the clothes from him and hand them to her cautiously, “You must be freezing.” You murmur. She doesn’t reply as she takes them from you, her big, brown eyes never leaving your face, like she’s scared something will happen if she looks away.

Suddenly, she stands and lets the jacket she’s wearing fall back onto the couch. You stand back up to your full height as well, your knees cracking as you do. “The bathroom is over-” You attempt to tell her, but she reaches down to pull her shirt over her head before you can stop her.

The boys all instantly turn around, their eyes wide and cheeks red. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Dustin repeats.

Without thinking, you grab her wrist and stop her, and she flinches at the sudden touch. You swallow, letting her go cautiously and pointing towards the basement bathroom. “Let's change in the bathroom, okay?” You murmur.

She doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you sigh in relief as she follows you. She looks around the bathroom uncomfortably, and you reach to pull the door shut, but she stops you.

“You don’t want it shut?” You ask, and she slowly shakes her head, and then mutters her first word. “No.”

You smile, “Okay. We’ll leave it cracked, alright?”

Once more, she just nods, and you turn away from the now cracked door so she can change. You can see the boys all discussing something, but you can’t really hear them, something about Alcatraz?

Still, you don’t really care about whatever it is they’re saying right now, you just want to know how the hell they found this little girl. “Hey!” You call out to them, and they all freeze, turning to you with questioning looks. “What the hell is going on?”

The boys all exchange looks with each other, and Mike is the first to speak up after a moment of silence, his voice soft. “We found her while we were looking for Will.”

You wet your lips, trying to wrap your head around what they’ve said. “Looking for Will? Boys, it’s pouring outside-”

“So? If Will is out there in the rain why should we stop looking because of it?” Lucas defends, and your heart aches a bit for the boys. You hadn’t really thought about them at all today, you’d been so busy focusing on your family and yourself. It makes you feel like shit. You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You can’t look for Will if you get sick, or even worse, hurt.” You explain to them, “I know we’re all worried for him, but you can’t put yourselves into danger because you want to find him.”

They don’t say anything, and you don’t really blame them. You weren’t mad at them, you just wanted them to be more cautious. “Do your parents even know that you went?”

Dustin shakes his head slowly, and you just nod. Mike sighs, his wet hair sticking to his forehead and dripping into the floor. “Look, she can sleep here tonight.” He says, changing the topic back to the girl.

Dustin’s eyes go wide, “You’re letting a girl-”

“Just for tonight!”

You tug on your bottom lip uncomfortably, really there isn’t anything else you can do right now. You’d bring her home with you, but you aren’t too sure how you’d explain her to your mom, and you don’t really want to put the extra stress on her right now.

Mike continues, “In the morning, she’ll sneak around the house and ring the doorbell. My mom will know exactly what to do and she’ll send her back to wherever she comes from, and we’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time we find Will.”

Lucas and Dustin smile, their eleven year old brains thinking this is the best idea on the planet. Really, it’s not too bad, but you aren’t sure how much you trust that it really goes as smoothly as he makes it sound. Plus, no way they actually thought you would let them go back out there by themselves. “Yeah, that plan is great and all, but did you forget I’m here?” You questioned, “You’re not going out and looking for him unless you call me first.”

Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “Nope! Look, I'm not stupid enough to think I can stop you guys from looking for him entirely. So, I’m going to come with you and make sure you guys don’t get hurt.”

Lucas crosses his arms over his chest, biting on his lower lip in thought. “It would be nice to not have to bike home.” He mutters, and Dustin hums in agreement.

Before anyone can say anything more, the girl walks out of the bathroom, now adorned in Mike's pajamas and hugging her old clothes to her chest. You quickly walk over to her with a soft smile on your face and lead her back to the couch. Mike wanders off to find something for her to sleep on.

“I don’t think we ever got properly acquainted, did we?” You mumble, letting her sit back down onto the couch. “I’m Y/N, and these three knuckleheads are Mike, Dustin, and Lucas.” You point to each other of the boys as you tell her their names. “You're gonna stay with Mike tonight, and then tomorrow his mom will find your parents.”

She frowns a bit at the mention of parents, like the word is foreign, but you don’t have time to dwell on it right now. You need to get the boys, and yourself, home.

She doesn’t say anything as you lead Lucas and Dustin out of the basement, but you can hear Mike talking to her while he gives her the sleeping bag he found.

After you fit the boys bikes into your trunk and let them clamber into the backseat, Dustin sits up so his head is right next to your headrest. “Do you think he’ll actually go through with it?” He asks.

You raise a brow, “With what? The plan?”

Dustin nods, and you just shrug. “Mike is smart, he’ll do what he thinks is best.”

Lucas scoffs, wrapping his arms around himself and leaning his head against the backseat window, “Wouldn’t want her in my house.”

–

The next morning, Jonathon is making breakfast for three instead of four. There’s a lingering tension in the air, and you can’t help the way you glance at the fourth, empty chair at the table.

“Here, I made breakfast.” Jonathon mumbles, going to set your Moms plate in front of her, but she gasps and takes it from him. “Be careful of the posters!”

“Yeah, okay, alright.” Jonathan murmurs, placing your own plate in front of you. The food looks appetizing, but you can’t really bring yourself to do more than pick at it.

“I can’t eat.” Your Mom mumbles, shoving the plate away and going back to staring at the poster you’d made last night.

“Can you atleast try?” You murmured to her softly, shoveling some eggs down your own throat in encouragement. She sniffles, shaking her head. “The Xerox place opens in, like, thirty minutes, and I don’t want you to go alone, Jonathon, so Karen’s going to take you.”

Jonathon just nods, but you cautiously speak up. “I can go with him.”

Your Mom just shakes her head, “No, no, I need you here with me. I, uh, we need what? 200? 300 copies?” Her words are moving a mile a minute and you and Jonathon can barely understand what she’s saying.

“Mom,” Jonathon attempts but she’s not listening.

“How much is a copy? Ten- ten cents?” She digs around in her purse for all the change she can find.

“Mom-”

“This is all I have-”

“Mom!” Jonathon reaches for her wrist, gently stopping her and ultimately forcing her to look up at him. Her eyes instantly fill with tears as she begins to use her free hand to hold her head.

Jonathon lets his head hang, releasing her wrist and in turn gripping the chair in front of him. “You can’t get like this, okay?” He says, and you all know it’s true.

She sniffles, a quiet sob leaving her, “I know- I know, I’m sorry.”

You grab her cold hand in your own, squeezing it. “It's okay, Mom.” You murmur, because it is. This is… unimaginable, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel like you were going the slightest bit crazy either.

The heartbroken look on your Moms face kills you just the tiniest bit, you’ve never seen her look so broken in your life. You wish there was something you could do, like you could magically pull Will from thin air.

Then the thoughts come, the ones you’d been fighting off with a sword. How this was your fault. How if you’d just come home, if you hadn’t worked late, then Will would be here. He’d be home, and everything would be normal.

The only thing you and Jonathon can think to do is to continue reassuring your Mom that it’s okay, but even you don’t know if you believe that yourself.

A knock at the door causes your Mom to shoot up, the poster in her hand falling onto the floor. You pick it up, placing it back onto the coffee table as Hopper walks into your home. You resist the urge to snap at him, considering you’d called him as soon as the Police Station opened six hours ago and he was only coming to check in now.

“We’ve been waiting here for six hours.” Your Mom says, her whole body practically trembling in what you assume is anger.

Hopper doesn’t look the slightest bit remorseful, “Yeah, I came as soon as I could. A little bit of trust here, alright?”

You scoff quietly at his mention of trust. How could you trust a cop that couldn’t even bother to call back? Hopper glances at you, and you swear you can see the tiniest bit of pity in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything though, instead turning back to your Mom. “We’ve been searching all night. Went all the way to Cartersville.”

Your mom sucks in a shaky breath, “And?”

For the first time, Hopper looks remorseful. “Nothing.”

Your breath hitches, a hand coming to rest on your stomach while you grip the chair in front of you. You’re in disbelief that they didn’t find anything, not even a piece of clothing. It makes the hope you’d been holding onto dwindle just the tiniest bit.

Hopper smacks his lips, gesturing to your landline, “Flo says you got a phone call?”

You watch as your Mom explains the call you’d gotten last night, how she’d heard Will breathing on the other line. You can tell Hopper is skeptical, the way he chalks the whole thing up to a prank call, but you’d seen your Mom when it happened. She was scared, genuinely terrified. You don’t see how a prank call could cause that visceral of a reaction in her.

“You think I don’t know my own son's breathing? Wouldn’t you know your own daughters?”

Hopper goes silent at that, wetting his lips as he turns away from your Mom and looks to you. “We need to talk.”

Your eyebrows raise slightly, had he found out about the girl in The Wheeler's basement? Did she do something to Mike? You swallow, “What about?”

“Your friend. Conner.”

You lead Hopper to your bedroom, the only place you can think of to give yourselves the slightest bit of privacy. You couldn’t lie and say that the mention of Conner's name hadn’t immediately brought a weight down into your chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

Hopper closes the door gently behind him, and you plop down onto your bed. Your fingers grip the sheets, tugging them between your fingers nervously. You hadn’t been able to get ahold of Conner since you saw him at work the night Will went missing. Of course, it worried you, but you assumed… Well, you’re not sure what you assumed.

Hopper runs a hand over his face as he stands in front of you, he almost looks like he’s dreading what he’s about to say to you. He sniffs, “When was the last time you saw your friend, Conner?”

“Why are you asking me this?” You murmur, standing up from where you sit on your bed so you’re chest to chest with him.

Hopper sighs, “You know why, Kid.”

Your stomach drops. This had to be a joke, there was no way- no way that your brother and your best friend go missing on the same night. You don’t believe you could’ve angered anyone that much.

You let out a disbelieving laugh, eyes immediately filling with tears. “You’re lying.” You gasp out. It’s the only explanation you can come up with. One person you love going missing? God, that was hard to even comprehend, but two? There was no way.

Hopper shakes his head, “I’m not.”

“You are!” You scream, shoving your finger into his chest over and over again, “It’s not true! It can’t be!” Hopper doesn’t make any move to stop you, and you’re subconsciously thankful for it.

“They can’t both be- be gone!” You cry, guttural sobs spilling from your lips. You hadn’t cried this hard since you found out the news about Will, but you suppose with the news about Conner it’s all just become overwhelming.

Hopper wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as you continue to fight against him. “Listen to me.” He mutters, placing a comforting hand on the back of your head and the other on your upper back. “I’m going to find your friend and your brother, alright? I promise.”

Slowly, your breathing begins to even out and your sobs begin to get softer. Hopper just sighs, giving you one final squeeze before letting you pull away from him. Your tears continue to fall, but not as violently as moments before.

“We’ve just gotta get through these questions.” He mutters, and you just nod, not even embarrassed at your break down.

“Okay.”

After Hopper leaves, it takes you a little bit of time to build up the courage to tell your mom about Conner. You're not sure how many heartbreaks she can take before she completely breaks.

When you finally do, she instantly bursts into tears. Conner wasn’t- isn’t, her son, but he’s been close to your family since you were both eight years old. Jonathon hadn’t said anything, instead grabbing his keys and leaving. He doesn’t say where he’s going, and frankly you can’t find it in yourself to care all that much.

Your Mom does her best to comfort you, but considering she herself needs comfort, it doesn’t work out all that well. Still, you accept her hug with open arms, crying onto her shoulder.

“They’re both okay, Y/N, alright? I- I know it.”

You just nod, sniffling slightly. Yesterday, those words had been comforting and had given you hope. Today, they just make you feel empty.

“I should go talk to his Mom and Dad.” You murmur. Your Mom just nods, giving you a kiss on the crown of your head before you leave.

The last time you had seen Mr and Mrs Donnelly was last week, for Conner's birthday. Their family always had huge birthday celebrations, because Conner was the only baby Mrs. Donnelly had been able to carry to full term, so a birthday was like an accomplishment in their family.

Another sob wracks through your body, but you’re quick to control your breathing and stop the oncoming flow of years threatening to escape. You don’t want to be crying when you see Conner's parents, you want to be strong for them.

When you approach the driveway, you notice that somehow the bright blue house seems dull. Honestly, the entire world felt dull, like all the color had been ripped out of it.

It takes you a while to exit your car and knock on their door, but you eventually do, biting on your nails the whole time.

When Mrs. Donnelly opens the door, the first thing you notice is how similar she looks to your own Mom right now. Her blonde hair is sticking up in places it usually doesn’t, and she’s nursing a lit cigarette in between her shaky fingers.

“Y/N.” She sighs out, immediately wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a hug. You can’t stop the way the tears now spill from your eyes in big droplets, most definitely soaking into her shirt. She doesn’t seem to care either though.

“They’ll come home.” She murmurs into your hairline, “Both of them.”

You just continue to sob, your fingers tugging at the fabric of her shirt. “I’m sorry,” You murmur, “I’m so sorry.”

—

By the time you return home, Jonathon still isn’t back. Your mom is practically burning holes into the new phone she must’ve bought though, and she’s moved the couch so she’s sitting right in front of it.

She barely glances at you as you enter, and neither of you say anything as you make your way to your room. Your talk with the Donnellys had been very hard, and even a bit uncomfortable, honestly. They told you that Conner never came home from that shift, and you’d felt a crushing ton of guilt sit on your lungs.

You’d left Conner there alone, even though you’d had a bad feeling. Those awful voices begin to creep back into your mind, reminding you that what’s happened to Conner and Will was entirely your fault.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel sick to your stomach at the reminder that now two people had vanished off of the face of the earth on the same night. Did someone take them? Were they together? Subconsciously, you hoped that Conner was there to take care of Will wherever they were. Maybe then Will would be less scared.

You glance at your electric clock, realizing school has been out for thirty minutes. Mike should be home by now, and if the plan went as smoothly as he claimed it would, everything should be back to normal now. Or, at least as normal as they can be. Still, you had a suspicious feeling that she was still right where you’d left her last night.

Will and Conner going missing, this strange girl showing up in the woods… Everything was too weird right now. Did the girl have something to do with what happened to Will and Conner? Yesterday you would’ve said that chances are the two had nothing to do with each other, but now you weren’t sure.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the shrill ringing of your landline, and you practically dart towards it. You aren’t entirely sure who you’re expecting, but this time you aren’t exactly surprised to hear Mike on the other side.

“She knows.” He blurts out, not even giving you a proper greeting.

Your eyebrows furrow, so you’d been right about her not leaving, but what did he mean she knew? “She knows? Knows what?”

“She knows about Will.”

By the time you get to the Wheeler residence you know that Lucas and Dustin are already there, because their bikes are thrown across the yard hazardously.

You roll your eyes as you step out of your car, collecting both of the bikes and setting them against the only tree in the yard. You know firsthand just how expensive those things are.

Karen Wheeler opens the door for you with a warm smile, baby Holly sitting on her hip while she plays mindlessly with a Barbie doll.

“Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you!” She says, and you laugh nervously, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater as you think of some excuse. “Yeah, sorry. I just wanted to check on the boys and make sure they were doing alright.” It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not exactly the truth either.

Karen nods, a small frown forming on her lips, tugging the slight wrinkles on her forehead down. “That’s really sweet of you, Honey. But… How are you doing? I mean, first Will and now Conner- I can’t imagine it’s been easy for you.”

Your breath hitches a bit. So, Conner's disappearance is public knowledge now too. You shouldn’t be surprised considering Tommy knew about Will just hours after he’d been officially reported missing, but it still makes your heart skip a beat in your chest. “Oh.” Is all you can manage to say for a moment. You clear your throat, “Yeah, um, I’m okay. Holding up the best I can, you know?”

Karen nods, placing a comforting hand on your bicep. “Well if you or your family need anything don’t be afraid to call us, okay?” You just nod, your eyes glancing at Mike at the top of the stairs. He waves at you, urging you to hurry up and come up stairs.

You give Karen a polite side hug and smoothly walk up the stairs, where you see Mike, Dustin, and Lucas all standing outside his room. Lucas looks shocked, Dustin’s smiling, and Mike looks worried. You narrow your eyes at them, placing your hands on your hips, “What happened?” The boys all glance at each other before Lucas and Dustin both begin to speak at once.

“She closed the door—”

“No, she slammed it—”

“Really, Dustin, that’s what you’re worried about?”

“I’m just saying!”

“She slammed the door shut with her mind.” Mike finished for them, and your eyes widened slightly. She closed the door with her mind? That wasn’t possible.

You sigh, shaking your head. “It was probably just the wind, guys.”

Dustin scoffs, “It wasn’t the wind, Y/N. Look, we’ll show you.” He barges into Mike's room, where you can see the little girl sitting on his bed. Her eyes immediately dart to you, and there’s remnants of blood under her nostril. It looks like she’d tried to wipe it away, but she hadn’t gotten all of it.

Dustin darts over to one of the many Lego sets Mike has on display from when he and Will built it last year, and you can see Mike itching to protest, but he holds back.

Dustin holds the house they had built together out in front of him and swivels his neck back to you, “Okay, watch.” He says, going to release it, but you stop him. You don’t think Mike would be very happy to watch it shatter on the floor.

“Dustin, let’s not, okay?” You say, taking the house from his hands. “I don’t want to be mean, but we’ve got a lot bigger issues at hand then her apparent powers.”

Dustin frowns, “But-”

You put the Lego House back where it was sitting on Mike's shelf, fixing Dustin with a hard look. The curly-haired boy rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

You ignore his pouting, walking past him so you can crouch in front of the little girl. “Hi.” You say to her warmly. You’d be lying if you said she didn’t creep you out just the tiniest bit. A random girl with a shaved head and limited vocabulary? It was hard not to be nervous around her.

“Her name’s Eleven. El for short.” Mike tells you, and the girl- El- nods in agreement. Add named after a number to your list.

You nod, “Do you remember me, El?” You ask her softly. She swallows, slowly nodding, “Yes.” She says shortly.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “Okay. Good, that’s good.” You glance at Mike, then return your gaze back onto El. “Mike told me you might know something about my brother? Will?”

El is silent for a moment, her eyes darting from you to Mike, before she nod’s solemnly. “Lost.”

You resist the urge to gasp, instead letting out a shaky breath. “L-Lost? Where is he? Is he safe?”

El looks at you with eyes so wide you would compare her to a china doll. She shakes her head, wetting her lips before she says terrifyingly low, “No.”

Mike shudders, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s something else,” He says. “She said that there’s bad men looking for her. We think they’re the same ones who took Will.” He explains.

Your eyebrows furrow. Bad men? So he was kidnapped. You look back to El, “What kind of bad men?” You ask her.

She sucks in a shaky breath, her tiny fingers forming a gun. She points it at her own head, and just as quickly drops it. But, you’re able to get the message.

That’s all the information you’re able to get from her, but it’s enough to fill you with a mix of dread and hope. Hope, because there was a chance he was alive. Dread, because you knew if that were true, it wouldn’t be the case for much longer. And if Will was alive, wouldn’t that mean Conner was as well? You prayed that they were at least together, able to keep each other safe.

As you make your way out of the Mikes room, you awkwardly find yourself face to face with Nancy Wheeler. You hadn’t actually talked to the girl since eighth grade, the last year before she decided playing with her brother was officially lame.

“Oh, hi.” You say, giving her an awkward wave. Nancy gives you a nervous smile, returning the wave. “Hey, Y/N. I’m sorry about Will and Conner. I’m sure they’ll find them soon.”

You tug at the bottom of your shirt uncomfortably, your gaze falling to the floor. “Thanks. I, uh, I hope so, too.”

You both just stare at each other in silence, until the sound of a horn honking outside turns your attention away. Nancy shoves her thumb towards the front door, beginning to slowly walk away from you. “My rides here, so… I’ll see you around?”

You nod, “Yeah, see you.”

As Nancy walks through the front door, you wait for her to leave fully before also making your exit. You don’t have any issues with Nancy, you just weren’t the same people anymore. She was dating Steve Harrington and hanging out with his possé of future highschool dropouts, while you were still dressing up for your little brothers board game.

Once you’re finally able to get back on the road, your thoughts easily drift from Nancy to Will and Conner. El said that Will was lost somewhere, but she wasn’t sure where. That could be good, right? If he was lost and not kidnapped or something like that. Lost things could be found when looked for hard enough.

Jonathon always said Will was exceptionally good at hiding, but you’d always thought that was because he just wasn’t looking hard enough.

—

By the time you get home the sun has already set, and your Mom hasn’t moved from her spot on the couch. You can tell she’s fighting sleep by the way she’s slouched over and her lips are slightly parted. You just look at her in pity, debating if you should tell her what you learned.

But, you didn’t want to get her hopes up when you didn’t even really know if El was telling the truth. After all, Will’s face was plastered all over Hawkins, it wasn’t that unlikely that she’d simply seen his face there and recognized him in Mike's photo. Still, you couldn’t help but think she was telling the truth. It was all just too strange to not be connected.

You softly shake your mom awake, and she practically jumps out of her skin at the contact. Her eyes dart across the room before they land on you, and her gaze softens just barely. “Oh, Y/N, you scared me.”

You mumble an apology, your hand falling naturally to her shoulder. “What do you say we get you to your bed?”

She shakes her head, her body already beginning to tremble again. “No, no— I need to be here if Will calls again.”

You tug on your lower lip, weighing your options in your head. You could leave her out here and watch her drive herself crazy, or you could convince her to go lay down in her own bed. “Look, I’ll stay out here and keep watch, and I promise as soon as I hear it ring I’ll come get you, alright?” She’s silent for a moment, as if she’s arguing with herself in her mind, before she slowly gives in and begins to let you lead her back to her room.

Just before you reach her bedroom door, the shrill ringing of the phone cracks through the silent house. Your Moms ears practically perk up as she darts for it. You just follow her, your arms crossing over your chest as she cradles the yellow landline to her ear.

“Hello? Who is this?”

She glances at you, her breathing heavy as her eyes immediately begin to fill with tears. “Will?”

Your own heart begins to beat faster as you step closer to her, “It’s Will? Is he- Is he saying anything?”

She lets out a quiet sob, “Will, it’s me. It’s mom.” She places her hand over her heart, “Talk to me. I’m here. Just tell me where you are honey, please?”

Suddenly, the lights begin to flicker, and you can hear a faint Mom? sound over the phone. Your hand immediately flies to your mouth, your jaw going slack. He’s alive.

“Will! Yes, it’s me! It’s mom! Where are you? Just—” Suddenly, the electricity spikes for the last time and you watch as your mom flings the phone onto the couch. “No, no!”

You reach for her, your own voice shaky. “Was it- Was it actually Will?”

She doesn’t answer, instead crouching onto the floor and sobbing into her hands. You can’t bear to watch it anymore. Your stomach begins to churn and you feel your lunch beginning to rise back up. You quickly run outside, hoping the fresh air might help you, and thankfully it does.

You're able to force your lunch back down, but you can’t quite build up the courage to walk back inside and face your Mom. You heard… Did you hear Will? You thought you did. Or were you just so desperate for him to be alive you imagined it?

Your stomach begins to churn again, but the sudden sound of music coming from Will’s room distracts you. You assume it’s your Mom going in there again. When she wasn’t staring at the phone she was usually in there, just sitting on his bed and going over the countless drawings he’d made over the years.

What you aren’t expecting to hear though, is the guttural scream that rips from the house. You immediately run back inside, “Mom?” You cry out, but she doesn’t respond to you. Instead, she practically flies out of Will’s room and takes you by the hand, dragging you back outside and into her car.

Once you’re sat in the passenger seat you once again bombard her with questions. “What’s going on? Why’d you scream?”

She doesn’t respond, her eyes practically bulging from her skull as she shakily forces the car on. Her gaze falls back to the flickering light in Will’s room, the song starting up once again.

“Mom?” You attempt again, but she doesn’t answer. It’s not until after she’s gotten out of the car do you hear any words from her, those simply being, “Stay here.”

Your mouth goes dry as you watch her walk back into the house with her head held high. Really, you’re at a loss. You don’t know why she freaked out so much, and you don’t know if it’s something dangerous or if she really has just reached her breaking point. Your fingers tap your thighs as you wrestle with what to do. If it is something dangerous, the last thing you want is for her to be in there with whatever it is by herself.

Just as you’re about to get out of the car to follow her, the blinding white lights of your twin brother's car enters the driveway. You can’t help the way your skin bristles at the sight of it.

You step out of your moms car, your feet crunching against the rocky driveway. Jonathon’s car squeals as it comes to a stop, his headlights slowly going out as he exits the vehicle.

“Where the hell were you?” You say exasperatedly.

Jonathon looks shocked at your tone, but he’s quick to come up with an explanation. “I was looking for Will.” He says, slamming his car door shut.

You scoff, “For ten hours?”

Jonathon runs a hand over his face, and it’s now that you notice just how exhausted he looks. His eyes are red and puffy from crying, and the dark bags under his eyes don't compliment it very well. His skin is a sickly pale, and he looks like he’s struggling to even hold himself up. It breaks your heart to see him like this, but you’re holding strong in your stance that he can’t just disappear for half a day without telling you where he was going. Especially not now that he was one of the only people you had left.

“I went to Lonnie’s.” He confesses solemnly.

Your lips tug into a straight line, your arms hugging yourself tighter. Your Dad hadn’t even bothered to call you and see how any of you were doing. You can’t say you don’t expect that kind of thing from him though. “And? What did he say?”

Jonathon just scoffs, kicking up some of the gravel on the driveway. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” The hard expression on your face doesn’t change. “Well, while you were out, Mom got another call. And she’s really freaking out in there.”

Jonathon’s head snaps up so his eyes are meeting yours now. “She did? Was it Will?”

“I’m…” You suck in a breath, your lips twisting uncomfortably. “I’m not sure. It- It could’ve been.”

Jonathon shakes his head, “Could’ve isn’t enough, Y/N.”

You bristle at that, your eyebrows furrowing as you point an accusing finger at him. “You think I don’t know that?” Your anger feels like it’s flowing out of you in waves, all of it wrongfully directed at Jonathon. He's not the one you were truly mad at, but he’s the only person around.

Jonathon frowns, shoving his hands into his pockets— an anxious habit he’s had since you were kids. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He attempts to defend, but you’re hearing none of it.

“I mean, to be honest, Jonathon, it feels like you don’t even have any hope that Will is alive. Or Conner. So why even bother looking?”

“You know that’s not true—”

“Do I?” The tears are flowing freely now, and you don’t have the energy to try and stop them. You turn away from him, the wind making a shiver run up your spine.

“You’re not being fair, Y/N.” Jonathon whispers, so softly that your ears strain to hear it.

You sniffle, adjusting your arms against your chest. “Yeah, well, neither are you.” You spit out, walking through the open front door and leaving him outside in the cold.

[taglist: @inlovewithchriss @idkman5335 ]

[mortish-writes]

I'm considering adding another route following the first seven nights. I've gotten various requests over the past few weeks and this encompasses most of the types of story lines that have been requested. Each of these routes would come with a unique prologue and MC. I'll explain each one below.

M/F/M - Storyline where Valdricht and Serax aren't in a relationship. You can choose to be with both of them in an MFM relationship or split off with one. I think the trickiest aspect of this one is the MF options. Valdricht/MC would be a piece of cake, but if it's just you and Serax, it'll be really difficult to get him to engage with the epic gods and monsters story line. He'd rather laze about a brothel and tell stories of slaying dragons than actually slaying them. It might be kind of fun to write all the ways he attempts to avoid doing anything that will advance the plot. It might also turn into a brothel simulator.

Priest - You'd play as a male MC raised within the Elodari faith with a backstory that's pretty intense. Your overall story line would be similar to that of the Heretic route, except with the added struggle of adapting to the female body given to you by The Weaver.

Female Serax - Why does this need its own route? Can't we just click a button and make Serax a lady? Girl, please. It needs an entirely different backstory for Serax, Valdricht, and the MC. Tbh I've given this one the least amount of thought, probably because I know it would be the most fun and I don't want to distract myself. And by least amount of thought, I mean that I have a 20k word outline.

Cultist - Oh boy. Here's some BoS lore for you. This was supposed to be the original story route alongside the Heretic route. I'd planned to do a Light vs Darkness MC route where you could be raised in the Elodari faith as a vestal or raised by fanatical Duskweaver cultists. I realized that it would mean a lot more writing and I'd be significantly delaying the demo launch, so I scrapped it. But it's all still outlined and it's quite different. Rather than being a Cinderella-esque story, you're a venerated child and you're raised in a hidden place with the knowledge that you'll be the mother of a god. To sum it up, you'd play as a sheltered shadow princess.

Anyway, I'll run this poll again later. I think that your opinions might change as you get to know the characters better.

Night IV is coming along well. The intimate scene took some turns I didn't expect and came out even better than I'd hoped. I'm still playing with the Zealot route to see if there's any possibility for that on Night IV, but I don't think there's any scenario in which it feels like intimacy is something she genuinely wants, rather than feels obligated to engage in because of The Weaver. Having grown up on my grandma's stash of 70's bodice rippers about women getting abducted by hot pirates and highland lairds, I could easily write that sort of scene, but I think it would offend modern sensibilities. I'll give it some more thought once I wrap up the main route.

-Mortish

[imjustatorturedpoet]

Meet me in the Hallway

chapter three: someone new

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x Reader

also available on ao3💘

wordcount: 4,5k

—

The guards moved mechanically, handing out lunchboxes with the same detached efficiency they used for everything. Like it didn’t matter if you ate. Like it didn’t matter if you lived.

You stepped forward and took a box from a pink-clad guard. His mask reflected nothing, just a void where a person should be.

Maybe that’s what you’d become too.

Stepping out of line, you spotted Player 390 ahead, waiting for you. You tilted your head slightly, a silent signal, and the two of you headed toward the right side of the hall, away from the noise. Someone was already sitting there on the stairs. Gi-hun.

He sat with his back against the metal bunk frame, head bowed, eyes locked on the floor. His meal sat beside him, unopened, like he was waiting for it to disappear. You sighed softly, watching him. Another ghost in a room full of the dying.

"You two know each other, right? I saw you talking before the first game, on the stairs,” you asked, glancing at 390 as the two of you approached. He flicked his eyes toward Gi-hun. "Yeah. We’re best friends, you could say." You arched an eyebrow. But before you could ask, 390 beat you to it.

390 exhaled, ”He was never like this, if that's what you wanted to know.”, there was something almost bitter in his voice, ”He used to be loud and energetic. Ate dinner with his daughter every other Saturday. Even when things were bad, he’d make some time for her. Even when the loan sharks came. But it got worse. Then three years ago, in the summer, he just... vanished. Nobody knew where he went. Wouldn’t pick up my calls. His mom was worried sick.”, 390 hesitated, ”She was sick. Diabetes. She didn’t make it. He came back after she had already died. Poor lady. I miss her.”

Three years ago.

The timeline lodged itself in your brain like a jagged piece of glass. Gi-hun had told you he played these games three years ago.

"He won,” you murmured. 390 frowned. "Yeah. Guess so. So sad that the games ended after his mom… you know.”

He came back when it was too late… why did that seem so familiar? Did that happen to someone you knew?

A sharp pang twisted in your gut. Winning doesn’t mean surviving. Sometimes, you leave a place, but it doesn’t leave you. Because, maybe, there’s no difference between going home and staying here. At least, for you.

You kept that thought to yourself.

You sat beside Gi-hun and opened your lunchbox. The scent of warm rice and fried egg drifted up, but the weight of the room made it impossible to enjoy. Food tastes different when you don’t know if it’s your last meal. Jung-bae turned to his friend, trying to coax something, anything, out of him.

"Look at this, man. This is just like my mom used to make. What’s in yours?"

Silence.

"Aren’t you gonna eat? Not even a little bit?”

Gi-hun didn’t even blink. He just stared.

390 sighed and scooped up a spoonful of rice, holding it out toward him like a mother feeding a stubborn child. "Come on. You know what they say—‘Eat up, even on your deathbed.’ Just do your brooding after, yeah? Please?”

Nothing.

390 dropped his spoon back into the box with a clatter. “Forget it, then.” He took the bite himself, chewing slowly. And then, between mouthfuls, ”You know… maybe this is for the best. That 24 million wouldn’t even cover a quarter of my interest. If we play just one more game—"

"Jung-bae."

Finally. A reaction.

For the first time, he looked up from the floor. His eyes were hollow—like the words had scraped something raw inside him, something that never healed. His fingers twitched, just once, then clenched into his palms.

“Last time I was here, someone who was very dear to me, said the exact same thing.” His breath caught on the last word. “And in the end, that person died here.”

The silence that followed was heavy, thick. Player 390 swallowed, but his usual easy confidence had drained from his face. You watched Gi-hun carefully, something cold creeping into your spine.

How many people had he watched die here? How many faces had he memorised just to forget? How many names had been swallowed by the walls of this place, lost between the gunshots and the silence that followed? How many times had he looked at a body—still warm, still fresh with the shape of life clinging to it and known that it would never move again?

And more importantly…why had he come back?

A part of you wanted to believe there was an answer—something logical, something that made sense. Survivor’s guilt, maybe.

Oh, you knew that very well.

The idea that winning didn’t mean escaping. That no matter how much money he had, he had never really left. Maybe he thought if he returned, he could undo it somehow. If he played again, if he stood in the same places where they had fallen, if he suffered the way they suffered—

Maybe it would mean something. Maybe it would make up for what happened before.

But that was a stupid, naive thought. Nothing could make up for this.

Nothing could bring them back. Nothing could erase what had happened. Nothing could take away the sound of their screams, the way their blood had seeped into the dirt, the way their bodies had hit the ground like discarded toys.

And yet he was here. Back in the hell he fought to escape. And that meant one of two things.

Either he had nothing left waiting for him outside.

Or he had never truly left at all.

You glanced at him. Noticed the way his shoulders curled inward, the way his hands were fisted so tight they trembled. Maybe it was both. Maybe he had lost everything on the outside. Or maybe, the second he stepped into this place three years ago, the outside had stopped existing for him.

The thought made your stomach turn. Because if he couldn’t escape, what chance did the rest of you have?

“Help us, then, sir.”, the voice cut through the fog in your mind, sharp and unyielding. The voice was in front you. You looked up at the same time as Gi-hun.

Player 001.

Behind him stood Player 100 and a few others. Their presence shifted the air; made it feel heavier.

“You’ve played these games before,” Player 001 said simply. Gi-hun looked at him, then lowered his head.

Retreating. Hiding.

You knew that look all too well. You thought he might ignore them entirely. But then—

“I pressed the O button because of you.”

Gi-hun flinched with disgust. But not because of Player 001, because of himself.

Player 001’s voice remained soft, ”I was scared. I wanted to quit. But you made me think… maybe I could play just one more game."

"Me too.”

"Yeah, same.”

“Us too.”

You felt it then, the way they were looking at him. Like he was their answer. But you looked at him like he was already carrying their deaths. For a moment, he met your gaze.

Then, just as quickly, he looked away.

“Sir,", Player 001 said, leaning in slightly, ”You know which game’s next, don’t you?"

A few players moved closer, waiting, hanging on his silence.

Even you. Why? You didn’t know.

Gi-hun exhaled, “The second game was Dalgona.”

The bunk above you creaked—a shift of weight, the subtle sound of someone listening in. Your eyes flicked upward. Player 388. He peered down, curiosity flickering across his face—until he realized you were looking right back at him.

Caught you.

His eyes widened slightly, embarrassment creeping in. Without a word, he pulled back, retreating into the shadows of his bunk like he hadn’t just been eavesdropping.

"Dalgona?"

Gi-hun gave a small nod, ”We had to choose one of four shapes and carve it out."

"Which shape was easiest?"

“Triangle.”

"And the hardest?”, you asked.

A pause.

"Umbrella."

Player 001 scoffed, ”Some people actually chose umbrella? Those poor bastards must’ve bitten the dust.”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened. He didn’t say anything. But you saw it in his eyes. Judgment. Maybe even something closer to disgust.

"So we just pick triangle, then.”, you murmured. "Shut up,” Player 100 snapped, ”If all 365 of us survive, the prize money won’t go up." You stiffened. That was wrong. You felt your anger rise up again, threatening to spill out.

"What’s the point if we don’t eliminate anyone?" The words hit you like a hard slap to the face.

"Are you fucking serious?”, you stood up, voice sharp. "You actually want people to die on your account? How selfish can you be?”

Player 100 sneered, ”Watch your mouth, young girl. You foreigners have no respect."

You snorted, sharp and cold. “I’ve lived here for 14 years, ddo-ra-i. And respect? That’s earned, not handed out like pity. You lost my respect the second you decided that a stack of bills was worth more than the blood on your hands.”

His lips curled into something ugly at the insult. Before he could speak, Gi-hun cut in. "We’re not keeping this to ourselves. I told you because I want everyone to survive."

You scoffed, ”And we don’t even know if it’ll actually be Dalgona."

Gi-hun nodded in agreement. "If it is, I’ll tell everyone."

Player 100 exhaled through his nose. Annoyed. Then he walked away, but not before shooting you a nasty look that you reciprocated.

But Player 001 stayed. And he was watching you. “Do I know you?", you asked before you could stop yourself.

A beat of silence. Just long enough to matter. His expression doesn’t change. But his fingers twitch. Just once. Almost imperceptible. Almost. Then, a smile, too easy, too practiced.

“I don’t think so. I’d remember someone like you.”

Too smooth. Too sure.

Liar.

You looked away. But across from you, Gi-hun was still watching. And his face was unreadable. And Player 001 kept looking at you too.

He saw it. The flicker of something in your face. The way your muscles tensed before you schooled your expression back into place. But he didn’t say anything. He just kept watching.

“May I ask you something?” The words sliced through the space between you, measured and deliberate.

All three of you turned. Player 001.

He had moved closer, lowering himself onto the stairs like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t out of place in this circle—like he wasn’t watching. Listening. Waiting.

But there was something else.

His presence didn’t fill the space—it stretched into it. Expanding. Taking up the silence. His attention settled on Gi-hun.

Curious.

"Why did you come back to this place?" Gi-hun didn’t answer. Not at first. His body tensed in a way that was almost imperceptible, a flicker of something restrained.

Player 001 continued, ”You said you won. You made it out. That means you must have received 45.6 billion won. Did you spend it all?"

Beside you, Player 390 stiffened. His expression shifted, something clicking into place in his mind, "Wait, hold on." He turned toward Gi-hun, brows furrowing. "Did you bet on horses again?"

You side-eyed them both with a smirk on your face, amusement flickering beneath your growing curiosity. Gi-hun shook his head. But it wasn’t just denial—it was something heavier. Something that sat inside his chest like lead.

"That money doesn’t belong to me,” he said, voice quieter now, ”It’s blood money. For the people who died here. The same goes for the money up there."

Silence.

The words carried a weight that couldn’t be shrugged off. You understood. That kind of guilt—how it settled deep, gnawed at you from the inside, until even the things meant to save you felt like they were swallowing you whole.

After Jonah, you—

"You don’t have to think of it that way." The interruption of your thoughts was smooth. Your head snapped toward Player 001. His expression didn’t change.

"It’s not like you killed those people," he continued, his voice too calm, ”And saving that money won’t bring them back to life."

Gi-hun exhaled, shaking his head, ”If you had pressed X, everyone here would’ve changed their minds by tomorrow. All of us would’ve made it out alive."

Another beat of silence.

Player 001 didn’t blink. Didn’t waver. "That’s right," he admitted.

Curiouser.

”I was the last to press O. But there were 182 others who wanted to stay.", his gaze flickered to the patch on your chest. Shit.

"And there were also 182 who wanted to leave," Gi-hun countered.

The space between them tightened. You glanced at Player 390. Neither of you spoke, but you felt the tension shifting, thickening.

Player 001 leaned forward slightly. "Let’s say I pressed X, and we all got a chance to vote again tomorrow.”, his voice was steady. Too knowing.

"Would everyone have been happy? Do you think the majority of O voters would change their minds? Would they thank me if they saw me on the street?”, he turned to you, "Would you thank me?"

The question echoed in you head. You knew the answer. No, I wouldn't.

Gi-hun’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer. His silence said enough. 390 let out a breath, rubbing his temples, “Alright, enough. There’s no point in placing blame now.”, his voice had softened, tinged with something exhausted.

"You know the saying—a widow understands a widower best. Let’s just focus on tomorrow, okay?”, he gestured toward Gi-hun, ”He’s won these games before. If we stick together, we’ll have nothing to worry about."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disagreement, ”Cut the poor guy some slack.”, you glanced at Gi-hun, eyeing the sharp tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled into his palms, ”He doesn’t need more pressure from everyone expecting too much from him. He'll crumble to pieces."

Gi-hun turned to you at that. For a second, you thought he might actually say something. Something real. But then, just as quickly, he looked away.

390 nodded. "You’re right. But he has the experience. Any advice he has will help."

"He’s right.”, a new voice.

You all turned in unison. Player 388. Your eyes narrowed slightly. So, he had been eavesdropping. And he did it again.

He hopped down from his bunk, stepping closer to the group, ”We have to stick together. I’ll be with you all the way."

You frowned. Skepticism creeping in, ”Who are you?"

The man straightened his posture, ”I’m Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho."

Dae-ho turned toward Gi-hun, extending a hand. A handshake. An offering. Gi-hun didn’t take it.

390 arched an eyebrow. "Oh, Dae-ho. Have we met?"

Dae-ho hesitated. A flicker of something too fast to catch. His gaze shifted, first to Player 001. Then to Gi-hun. Then, finally, to you. And when he extended his hand again, you felt the weight of their gazes on you. Waiting.

You blinked. Then, slowly, you took his hand. Dae-ho’s fingers were warm. And when you welcomed him, he nodded gratefully.

You looked at Player 001 again. But he was already watching you. A chill curled down your spine, slow and deliberate, like fingers trailing along your skin. It was subtle, but his expression shifted. Not much. Just enough to unsettle you.

Recognition. Again. Or was that jealousy?

What you didn't see was that his expression had changed again. Not just interest. Something closer to… possession.

No, don’t be ridiculous, (Y/N).

He kept watching you, like he had seen you before. Like he knew exactly who you were now. The weight of his gaze wasn’t just familiarity though, it was expectation. As if he was waiting for you to remember. Your stomach twisted. Where had you seen him before? The thought gnawed at the back of your skull, sinking its teeth in, refusing to let go.

You tried to place him—tried to pull him from the depths of your memory, where forgotten things go to rot. But every time you got close, every time you felt like you were reaching for something solid, it slipped through your fingers. Like water through cupped hands.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

“Very sure.”, he said.

Liar.

The word flared behind your teeth, but you didn’t say it. Instead, you looked away.

—

Seoul. Outside the hospital. August 31st 2015.

It was raining. That’s what you remember first.

Not the words. Not the doctor’s face. Just the sound—the endless drumming against the hospital windows, against the pavement, against the roof of your skull. Filling the silence before the weight of it could crush you.

“We’re terribly sorry. Your brother only has a few days left."

The words landed like a blow. Didn’t sink in. Just hovered there, useless and unreal.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

You were supposed to be at home with Jonah, counting down to your 21st birthday tomorrow, joking about how old you were getting. Not here. Not now.

Where was your dad? Your mom? You don’t know. You should. But you don’t.

It didn’t matter, anyway. It was too late. Too late.

The hospital room felt too small. Too suffocating. The air smelled like antiseptic and something worse, something bitter and sterile and hollow. You couldn’t be in there anymore. You needed out. Needed air. Needed-

So you walked away. Somewhere. Anywhere.

And then you were outside.

You don’t remember pushing through the doors. Don’t remember stepping into the rain. But it was there, soaking through your clothes, sliding down your face in slow, icy trails. You weren’t sure where the rain ended and you began. You tilted your head up slightly, letting the rain mix with the tears you refused to wipe away. Maybe if you stood there long enough, you’d just dissolve into nothing.

You just let it happen—the cold creeping into your bones, numbing the places where the grief should have settled. You stood there long enough for your fingers to go stiff, for your lips to feel like they didn’t belong to your face anymore. You stood there until the only thing you could feel was the weight pressing down on your ribs, crushing something inside of you until there was nothing left to break.

The door to the hospital slid open with a quiet hiss behind you. You didn’t turn.

A man stepped out, barely hesitating before lighting a cigarette. The scent of smoke curled into the cold air, mixing with the dampness of the rain.

You heard the flick of a lighter, the sharp inhale, the quiet exhale.

He ignored you the best he could until you shivered—a full-body tremor you couldn’t suppress, the cold cutting through the thin shirt you wore. Then the man finally spoke.

"You’re going to catch a cold.”

The voice was there. Low. Unfamiliar. You don’t remember what it sounded like. Only that it existed.

No answer. Didn’t look. But after a long moment, you stepped under the hospital overhang anyway. Not because you cared. Not because you wanted to. Just because he wouldn’t stop waiting.

He stood beside you. Close, but not too close.

Neither of you spoke. Not at first. It was a silence that stretched—one that didn’t need to be filled. And finally— "Family?"

You hesitated. The word was too big. Too much. You nodded anyway.

“You?”, you asked, just to say something.

A pause.

"Yeah."

That was it.

No names. No details. No stories. Just a shared understanding, heavy enough to settle between you.

The rain kept falling. The cigarette burned. And for the first time all day, the silence didn’t hurt.

"Could I get a cigarette?"

A shift beside you. The crinkle of a pack being pulled from a pocket. He handed one over without a word. You put it between your lips, fingers barely steady enough to hold it. A flame flickered at the edge of your vision. He held the lighter up.

You leaned in. Let him light it for you.

The first inhale burned. Good.

"Thanks."

The silence stretched over you again. You took a long drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke curl in your lung and suffocate you.

You broke the silence first, “What’s your name?"

“Does it matter?”

"Guess not."

You don’t remember his face. Or his voice. But you remember this. The rain. The cold. The cigarette between your fingers, smoke curling into the night. The feeling of standing next to someone who didn’t ask for anything, who didn’t expect anything, who just stood there.

You didn’t see him again. Not for a week.

And for some reason, that stuck with you.

—

The dormitory. Present.

The memory slams into you like a punch to the ribs. Your breath catches—too sharp, too sudden. A cold sweat prickles at the back of your neck. Your pulse stumbles, just for a moment, before picking up a fraction too fast. You swallow hard, blinking fast, but the static in your head doesn’t clear. Your hands twitch, restless, like they’re reaching for something unseen.

A cigarette. A lighter. A name.

You closed your eyes for a moment. The scent of cigarette smoke still clung to your senses, curling in the back of your mind like it had never left. Like time hadn’t touched it. Like it had burned itself into your bones, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

Had you really forgotten his face? His voice? Or had you buried it—like everything else?

Your fingers twitched where they rested on your lap, a phantom weight settling between them. The ghost of a cigarette. The quiet rasp of a lighter flicking open. The slow inhale. The smoke curling past your lips, thick and acrid, stealing the air from your lungs.

Why now?

You exhaled, trying to shake the feeling, but something inside you clawed at the edges, a whisper of recognition you couldn’t place. A presence you had felt before, but never turned to face.

Your eyes flickered up.

Player 001.

As you locked eyes with 001, something shifted. A flicker of something deep in your chest, something you shouldn’t be feeling.

Attraction wasn’t the right word. This wasn’t attraction. Not in the way you knew it.

Attraction wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Like being studied.

It made no sense. But it was there, curling in the pit of you stomach like a lit fuse.

No, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t about how he looked at you, how his voice sounded, or how his presence filled the space around you all. It was deeper than that.

Stranger. More dangerous.

It was the remembrance.

The way he looked at you—like he already knew you. Like he had seen everything you were and everything you were not. And the worst part? You felt it too. It made no sense. But it was there, curling in the pit of you stomach like a lit fuse.

Not fear. Not trust. Something in between.

A man like him shouldn’t have that effect on you.

He wasn’t young. He was handsome, true, but not in the effortless way of youth. His features were sharp, deliberate—chiselled jaw, high cheekbones, eyes dark and intense. The kind of face that could have belonged to a movie star in his prime, except there was something more.

There was no naivety to his beauty. No softness. Just a quiet, effortless confidence, like he had nothing to prove because he had already won the game long before anyone else knew they were playing.

And you were watching.

You hated that.

Hated the way your pulse picked up. Hated the way your breath shallowed—just slightly. Hated the way his voice lingered in your mind, low and even, like he had spent a lifetime learning exactly how to make people listen.

God, what the hell was wrong with you?

This wasn’t the time for this. This wasn’t the place. And yet.

When he leaned forward slightly, his attention still locked on you, the feeling sharpened. Not lust. Not even desire.

Curiosity.

The kind that was dangerous. The kind that got people killed.

He was still watching you. The feeling in your stomach twisted tighter.

It was the way he held your gaze—too steady, too deliberate. Not casual. Not meaningless. It was the way he sat, completely at ease, as if he had all the time in the world to watch. To watch you.

It was unsettling. Not in a way that made you want to look away—but in a way that made you want to stare back. Like if you looked hard enough, if you pieced together the shadows of memory, you could force his face to belong somewhere.

"Do I know you?"

The words echoed inside your skull, circling, gnawing at something just out of reach.

A ridiculous question. And yet. The feeling wouldn’t go away.

Your pulse was a dull, steady thrum against your ribs as you let the thought settle, let the weight of it press down on you.

If you had really forgotten, then why did your body remember? Why did your breath feel heavier? Why did your hands feel empty, like they had lost something they should have been holding? Why did his eyes feel like they had already seen you—somewhere outside of this place?

A flash of rain. A flick of a lighter.

A quiet voice beside you.

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

Your stomach lurched.

No. That was—no.

Your mind scrambled to catch up, to hold the thought in place, but it was ridiculous. An impossible connection.

What were the odds?

There were thousands of men in this city who smoked. Hundreds who had stood outside that hospital over the years. What were the odds? And yet, you still couldn’t remember his face.

Maybe you never would.

What were the odds?

The question curled around your ribs like smoke, thick and inescapable. But when you looked at him again, his expression hadn’t changed. And that was the worst part. Because he knew something.

And he wasn’t going to tell you. Not yet.

That was impossible. Wasn’t it?

Your lips pressed into a thin line, fingers curling slightly. Your mind tried to shove the thought back into the dark, to rationalise it away.

Because it wasn’t him. Just another older man. Just another moment in your past you had no business dragging into the present.

And yet. Player 001’s lips curled. Just slightly. Not quite a smile.

You looked away first.

"You alright?”, Player 390’s voice cut through the static in your mind, grounding you. His eyes flickered over you, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah."

Too fast. Too clipped. He didn’t believe you. Hell, you didn’t believe you.

You exhaled sharply, forcing your shoulders to drop, shaking the tension out of your fingers.

It was just a memory.

Just the past clawing at you when you least expected it. Nothing more.

And yet… your fingers curled slightly, like they were waiting for something. A lighter. A cigarette.

A name you had asked for but never received.

You clenched your jaw and stood up to walk back to your bed. But your legs felt heavier now, as if something unseen was still holding onto them.