#the commoner’s guide to bedding a royal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherienymphe · 1 year ago

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Smells Like Teen Spirit (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON/DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, attempted murder + suicide, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, underage drinking, jealousy, kook!reader

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

➥ cont.

summary: Being one half of the royal couple of Figure 8 isn't what it's cracked up to be.

The first time Rafe hit you, it was on your birthday.

Like every year, your parents threw you a big party that hosted no less than a hundred people. A good number of those people were friends from school and familiar faces you’d grown up with. The other bunch were family friends that had more in common with your parents than you. You took their pretty cards filled with money and thanked them with a smile, relieved when they scampered off to congregate with the other forty somethings.

It was the same party every year. Half the people of Figure 8 in attendance, an abundance of gifts you could barely keep up with, and a light scold or two from your mother to smile and greet the next person who came in. Your hair was flawless and your dress was the perfect length.

The only difference this year was the presence of a boyfriend at your side.

“Rafe, if my dad sees us, I will never hear the end of it.”

Your tone was light and teasing, and you said it with a smile, but there was a hint of seriousness there. It really didn’t matter how older you grew to be, you were sure you’d always be your daddy’s little girl. The older man already hadn’t been the most excited when you told him you were dating Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son, and you were positive that the Cameron family’s reputation was Rafe’s only saving grace.

You’d just turned eighteen then after all and was already flaunting your new adult status.

The blue-eyed boy in front of you merely chuckled, tightening his arms around your waist and leaning in to kiss you again. The house and the yard were filled with almost too many people, so you hadn’t hesitated when Rafe discreetly guided you upstairs.

“He’s too busy talking about his new boat, isn’t he?” he wondered. “He’ll talk all night if they let him.”

You lightly tapped his chest, but you didn’t voice any disagreement.

Your back was leaning against your bedroom door, the muffled sounds of some classical music reaching your ears through the wall. Rafe’s hands were tight on your waist, and you both felt and heard him chuckle again, his lips still pressed against yours. Only this time, he kept laughing—softly and to himself—and you gave him a slight frown when he pulled away.

“I was just thinking…” Rafe pulled you close again. “How hilarious it would be if he was going on and on about that damn boat…none the wiser to his daughter getting fucked on her birthday right upstairs.”

This time you hit him a little harder, and Rafe only laughed again.

“You’re not funny,” you scolded, deflating a little as you pulled away from him. “Way to ruin the mood.”

You said it quietly as you sat down on the edge of your bed, but Rafe heard it clearly, and when you looked up at him, you recognized the look on his face instantly.

“Funny,” he started, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door. “Mentioning sex usually has the opposite effect on most people.”

You rolled your eyes with a turn of your head, looking towards your window. The atmosphere was different, now, and you didn’t know if it was your fault or Rafe’s. He joked like that sometimes, and you knew it, so you could recognize that maybe you were being too sensitive.

The topic at hand, however, was a sensitive one for you.

“I really don’t want to have this fight, right now,” you mumbled.

You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t return it, determined to just stare down at the people in your yard. The air was thick, the tension even thicker, and you reached up to rub your arms, trying to rid them of the goosebumps that had appeared. Rafe hated being ignored, and you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue the conversation because you knew what was brewing.

Rafe was the perfect boyfriend. He was pretty—the kind of pretty that even some girls would be jealous of. He came from the kind of family that taught him about manners and respect. He never hesitated to do what he could to make your life easier despite growing up wanting for nothing. You didn’t think it was possible for an already spoiled girl to be spoiled some more until you started dating Rafe and he proved you wrong. He treated you like a princess, so yes. Rafe was the perfect boyfriend.

Mostly.

“I’ve been really understanding, you know…”

Rafe’s voice was low, and your gaze dropped to your lap.

“…but we’ve been dating for what? Eight months?”

You swallowed, eyes burning.

“Do you know how hard Topper and Kelce would laugh at me if they knew my girlfriend of almost a year refuses to have sex with me?”

You scoffed, finally looking at him, brows pulled together.

“You make it sound like I’m punishing you,” you breathed. “Rafe, this has nothing to do with you, I… I’m just not ready.”

“…and still no ETA on when you will be, huh?”

You blinked at him, lips parting at his callous tone and words. You looked away, blinking back tears because you would hate it if you cried on your birthday of all days.

“You’re being an asshole.”

You whispered it, and you heard Rafe huff.

“I’m not trying to be,” he told you, and you heard him move closer. “…but come on. I get it…”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you, and you felt his hand on your face, fingers grazing your cheek.

“You’re nervous, and it seems scary, but you’re treating me like I’m some stranger on the street, and not…your boyfriend. You know I’ll take care of you. I always take care of you, and that’s why I don’t understand it,” he bit out. “I treat you like gold, and here I am, eight months in and wondering if you even feel the same way.”

You whipped your head around to stare at him in disbelief, looking between his eyes. You didn’t know how he could be serious, but as you gazed at him, you realized that Rafe was very serious. You took a moment to scoot away from him just a tad.

“I show you everyday how much you mean to me, Rafe…but because I won’t have sex with you that means I don’t love you? So just forget all the other stuff, I guess,” you sneered.

Rafe reached for you when you started to turn away, shaking your head and lightly pushing at his hands. Today was your birthday, and you were fighting with your boyfriend…because sex was something you just weren’t ready for. You snatched your arm out of his hold, standing on unsteady legs.

“When you first brought this up, I told you then that I wasn’t ready, and you made it clear you were okay with waiting. Was that a lie?” you asked him, meeting his gaze.

Rafe ran his hand down his face, huffing to himself.

“No, but I just didn’t think I’d still be waiting almost half a year later.”

He was standing, now too.

“So, why are you? No one’s forcing you to stay here, Rafe,” you sadly told him with a shrug. “You don’t have to be with me if sex is that damn important to you. There are plenty of other girls out there who will happily give you what I don’t want to.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“…and I know because I see the looks they give you…and the looks they give me.”

You were used to envy. You’d been on the receiving end of it all your life. Growing up on this side of the island guaranteed that from birth, but you also knew it was because your standing was only rivaled by Sarah Cameron. If Rafe’s sister were anyone else, you might have found yourself involved in some one-sided rivalry, but Sarah was a lot like you.

Just a girl born into fortunate circumstances.

However, what you weren’t used to was envy because of the man you loved. When it came to your house and your lifestyle and everything else, it never bothered you because no one could take those things from you. Rafe, on the other hand… You knew what he was like and what he was used to. It was why you’d been very honest about your sexual history and lack thereof from almost the beginning. If Rafe was going to leave you for someone else all because you wouldn’t have sex with him, you would have rather he do it early.

Not now…not eight months in because now you loved him, and the thought made you want to cry, and it would take just as many months to get over him.

“If I wanted any of those other spoiled bitches then I wouldn’t be here,” Rafe told you. “Besides, you think I’m just going to walk away with nothing after investing so much time and money and energy into you?”

You reared back at that, eyes widening just a tad, and Rafe seemed to realize how that came out. He sighed, reaching for you just as you stepped away from him. You heard him curse when you left the room, ignoring the sound of him calling your name as you hurried to mix yourself in with all of your guests downstairs.

Rafe talked about you like some business investment he was waiting to get a return on. It hurt, a lot, and while you wanted to believe he hadn’t meant it like that in his head, you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was really how he saw you. Your mother smiled at you when she saw your face, none the wiser to your temporary absence. Your own smile was forced as she introduced you to their new golfing buddies.

You didn’t know when Rafe came back downstairs, only quickly glancing away when your eyes connected with his after some time. If your parents noticed your distance from him, they didn’t comment on it, and after a while, you barely noticed it yourself. You immersed yourself in your friends, halfway listening to boyfriend troubles and semester woes.

This was the only thing you and Rafe ever fought about. Plenty of your friends had boyfriends before who tried to pressure them into doing things they didn’t want to do. You were always the friend to tell them to dump them without hesitation, so why hadn’t you done the same? Was it because Rafe was so perfect in all other aspects of your relationship? The back and forth hadn’t ever been so serious before…not until tonight.

As you sipped on the drink you weren’t supposed to be having, you remembered the hurt you felt when Rafe implied you didn’t love him. What a crazy thing to say. You treated him just as well as he treated you, never mind the fact that you told him every day how much you loved him…but because you wouldn’t fuck him that meant otherwise?

It was enough to make you angry.

“Finally stopped hiding from me…?”

You tensed up for half a second, relaxing with a sigh as you heard him come closer. You were out by the water, now, sitting on the boat dock with one leg swinging. It had been nothing but just you and your thoughts for a good thirty minutes, and you guessed it took that amount of time for Rafe to realize you were no longer in the house.

“I don’t know yet,” you honestly told him.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t,” Rafe quietly said, getting straight to the point.

“…but I don’t know. You don’t even think I love you just because I won’t have sex with you. For all I know, that’s exactly how you see me,” you mumbled.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the guy ruining my birthday!”

You were looking up at him, now, tearfully, and you shook your head. Saying it aloud made you realize just how shitty it was, and you sniffed, pulling yourself to your feet.

“Just go home, Rafe…”

He stopped you from walking by him, and you ignored anything he was trying to say. The more he leaned in, that was when you smelled it, and your frown deepened at the stench of alcohol on his breath. You didn’t know why the smell made you so angry. It was a party, after all, but maybe it was the fact that if anyone of the two of you deserved to drown their sorrows in booze, it was you. Not Rafe. Pushing at his chest, you scoffed.

“One argument…and you’re already getting drunk?”

You jerked your face away from his hand, glowering at him.

“Don’t you want to at least wait for Ward to give you the daily disappointment speech?”

The slap wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was hard enough to make your face burn.

You were staring at the water from when your head had whipped to the side, and when a nightly breeze blew by, kissing your skin, only then did the dull burning sensation fade away into a painful one. Your lips were parted in shock, and you were slow to reach up and touch your cheek. The silence was loud, and when you finally looked at Rafe, he looked as shocked as you felt.

All of your breath had left you, and your brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to reconcile your boyfriend with the same guy who’d just slapped you. It didn’t seem real, and yet the dull pain you felt said otherwise. A few tears escaped against your will, and it was only then did Rafe move. His face fell, but you were already backing away.

“Y/N-.”

“Don’t touch me,” you tearfully spat. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t listen, grabbing your arms anyway, and you were still in too much shock to really fight back. Rafe cooed at you, trying to take your face into his hands no matter how much you protested. You wanted him far away from you, and your brain was unsure of how to achieve that, still grappling with the memory of his palm connecting with your cheek.

“Hey, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Baby, stop.”

You shoved at his chest, hitting it, but he wasn’t deterred. He only rested his free hand on the back of your head, holding you against him, and the feel had more tears spilling over. You kept trying to get away, but Rafe refused to let you, repeatedly apologizing and shushing you. You could feel the cool metal of his ring against your scalp, his lips there too as he kept telling you he was sorry.

Your chest was so tight, and it ached just as much as your face. Your mind was still fighting to make sense of what had happened tonight, and despite Rafe’s apologies for his entire behavior, you told yourself that this was the last straw. Rafe had ruined your birthday in more ways than one, and you were done. You had to be.

…because you deserved better.

The first time you had sex with Rafe—with anyone ever—you’d been terrified.

…and drunk.

An entire month after your birthday, and you didn’t know if you were more shocked or angry that you stayed with Rafe. You had been so determined to leave him that night. He had ruined your birthday beyond repair, and you knew that anytime you looked back on the night you turned nineteen, you’d only remember Rafe slapping you on the dock.

…but you’d also remember his profuse apologies, and the tears in his eyes as he begged you to forgive him.

He was drunk. That was what he kept saying, that he was drunk and acted before thinking. It was barely a reason and certainly wasn’t an excuse, so why did you stay? It was stupid to stay…and yet you did. You let Rafe kiss your face and lead you back to the party that had long died and smile in the face of the parents whose daughter he’d just hit.

You’d answered the phone as he called you, taking almost half an hour to just tell you again how sorry he was and how he didn’t know what came over him and how it would never happen again. You’d never known Rafe to be so apologetic in all the time you’d been dating him. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for the circumstances, and the whole time, you’d only been able to listen in silence with your fingers grazing your face.

You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for days, going over it in your head again and again. Torn between listening to your gut and telling yourself that it had just been a one-off thing, a bad drunken night. After all, what you’d said to him hadn’t been the nicest, knowing how he felt in regard to Ward and his relationship with him. It didn’t make it right…but you had provoked Rafe. You’d said it to hurt him…to make him angry… Right?

…but that wasn’t the case a month later.

Things between you and Rafe hadn’t been the same since. He still doted on you, and your parents still adored him, and you were reluctant to admit you still loved him, but you could never get that night out of your mind. You could never forget how swift it had been, how no thought to you had been spared. Rafe had only been focused on retaliating, hurting you, and it was something you often struggled with. You believed it wouldn’t happen again…but what if it did?

Without even realizing it, you became less argumentative with the blond. You gave him less pushback, you smiled more and became more agreeable to his suggestions. You spent more time with him, making him happy. You believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again, but in the back of your mind, something in you was doing everything you could think of to make sure it didn’t.

…and that was why you still didn’t quite understand how the fight had started.

Something about Topper…or Kelce.

You were so drunk, it was hard to remember.

“I saw you!”

You had blinked at Rafe from your place on the couch, staring up at him in wonder and confusion. Another Friday meant another party, and promising your mother you’d be back by a certain time, you’d allowed Rafe to help you into his truck. Nothing about the night had been out of the ordinary, and it was why you found yourself wracking your brain.

“Rafe, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you softly told him, trying to understand why he was so mad.

The only son of Ward Cameron knocked the glass of water right out of your hand, and you flinched at the action, blinking at the sight of shattered glass on the floor. You’d gotten it to try and help you sober up before you went home, and you stared at the spilled water with parted lips. You were too drunk to fully grasp the severity of the situation you were now in.

Suddenly Rafe was there, too close, leaning down over you with his hands resting on the back of the couch. You leaned back and away from him, eyes wide as he looked at you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. Like he was so disgusted with the sight of you, and again, you wracked your brain to understand what you’d done. To understand how to fix this.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been cold, icy, and you hadn’t missed the tick of his jaw. The alcohol in your system hindered your thinking, and that had seemed to make Rafe angrier, like he was furious you couldn’t put it together. Read his mind. Overwhelmed, you hadn’t been able to stop a few tears of frustration from escaping, and that just seemed to really send him over the edge.

“You were in his lap,” he had bit out, and only then did you finally understand.

Your odd relationship with your boyfriend these days had driven you to drink more than you ever had. You’d been sloppy…clumsy, and Topper was nice enough to help you back to your feet after you’d quite literally fallen right onto his lap. You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but one look into Rafe’s eyes had you swallowing it down.

He was very serious…and very angry.

You reached for him, but Rafe only slapped your hands away, straightening and looking down his nose at you. It was a look that made you feel so…cold, and with one blink, you remembered that you were alone. Sarah was God knows where, and the remaining Camerons had gone out to eat. The house was usually empty during this time, but it wasn’t this Friday night.

It consisted of you…and your angry boyfriend.

“I should…I should go. Call my mom,” you mumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

Your attempts to get by Rafe went unsuccessful, and with each block to your path, something deep within your gut just…dropped. Your gaze met a familiar blue one, and nothing about it was warm, welcoming. Rafe seemed to be so mad at you about something so silly, but instead of just talking about it later when you were both much clearer headed…he didn’t want to let you leave.

“Is that what you’re gonna do?” he’d mocked, a mean look on his face. “Call mommy and daddy to come get you?”

Sarah.

You reminded of him of Sarah.

That was what he’d said, what he’d thrown at you. His tense relationship with the other girl was no secret to anyone, least of all you, and you winced at every insult he threw at you. Spoiled brat. Perfect princess. Uptight prude. It shocked you for a lot of reasons, but mostly because Rafe wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t sober, but you’d hardly seen him drink all night and not nearly as much as you, and he was insulting you with confidence, throwing all of these things at you that you never knew he felt.

“I’m just going to go home, okay? You’re being an asshole, and I don’t know why, so I just…”

At some point, your back was grazing the wall, and Rafe was hovering before you, a look in his eye like leaving was the very last thing he wanted you to do. Every move of yours was mirrored, every turn met with one of his own, and for the first time ever…you were afraid of your boyfriend.

When Rafe hit you that night, you hadn’t been scared. Not really. You’d been angry…shocked…disbelieving. Not scared though. You’d just wanted to be away from him, you had even wanted to hit him back, but not once did you remember feeling scared for your life. Not like this night, and you couldn’t keep it together.

“Rafe, please, I just…I just wanna go home,” you choked out, touching your temple. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You were so confused as to how you got here. The night had taken such an unexpected turn, and more than anything, you wanted to sleep it off and write the whole thing off as a bad dream. You wanted to get some more water and take a shower and skip to the part where you had a pounding headache in the morning. You didn’t understand how a night of partying had turned into an argument with your boyfriend.

Although, you supposed it wasn’t much of an argument. Mostly Rafe yelling at you and you trying to understand why. Rafe was determined to make this into something it wasn’t, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to let you leave without dead-ing this whole thing, you frowned at him.

“I fell. You know I fell, you know…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe rolled his eyes, and something in you was telling you that Rafe was going to believe what he wanted to believe. He was determined to make something true, and it startled you to realize that you’d lost this argument before it even began. Slipping from in between Rafe and the wall was a mistake.

A mistake that had consequences.

Your purse was halfway across the room before you could even grab it good, Rafe suddenly in your face again. He was yelling about a whole bunch of nothing, and when you turned from him again, Rafe made sure it was the last time, gripping your upper arm so hard that you actually cried out. His other hand followed suit, and he shook you, hard enough to make your head whip back and forth.

The only time he listened to you was when you asked him to let you go.

…and he did just that…shoving you in the process.

The kitchen counter slowed your fall only a bit, but it added to the pain more than anything else. Trying to get up proved fruitless, because Rafe was there, kneeling before you with one hand on the counter. The other was on your face, forcing you to look at him. You were too drunk to make full sense of everything he was saying, to grasp the danger you were in. When you finally did, it was too late.

…because Rafe was already ripping the dress he bought you a week ago.

You thought it was a joke at first—some awful and insensitive scare tactic—until you were reaching up to pull at the hand around your throat. Your other hand slapped at the cabinets below in panic, and with a knee between your legs, it was impossible to close them. You knew that you were alone, but that fact didn’t stop you from crying out.

“You really expect me to just watch you throw yourself at my friends? Huh?”

The kitchen floor was cool against your back.

“…and laugh about it?”

He was fumbling between you both, and the room was spinning too much for you to understand why. You felt nauseous, and Rafe was hurting you, and you were cold. Not to mention that your head had started to hurt, but you also realized that everything was hurting.

“But you won’t even touch me.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut…only lower.

The pain of Rafe’s intrusion had you wailing, and the difference in your reactions couldn’t have been starker. It was hard to decipher, but you were sure that Rafe had moaned, a low drawn-out sigh as he sheathed himself inside of you. You could feel Rafe’s chest heaving against yours, could feel his heartbeat, could even hear his shaky breath.

You, on the other hand…

You couldn’t move. You felt frozen, restricted by something unseen, and when you tried to fight against it, you gasped. One shift had you wincing, and tears spilled over almost immediately. Your hands were pressing against his chest, now, desperately trying to push Rafe away, pushing off of you… out of you. It was no good, Rafe in a whole other world you weren’t privy too as he pulled back.

The feel had you wincing again, and you thought…

Well, you thought wrong.

Your relief was short-lived, and Rafe ignored everything you said as he started to thrust inside of you. His hips barely left yours, only enough to create friction, and you pushed your forearm against his neck, fighting to get him to stop. The pain wasn’t something you could wrap your head around, and you didn’t know if you were grateful or not that you were so drunk.

Every snap of Rafe’s hips made you cry harder, harsh sobs escaping and echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. The sound of your bawling was only rivaled by the groans that escaped Rafe, your boyfriend pointedly ignoring your plight. One of his hands pushed against your face, forcing your head to the side…as if he didn’t want to see your face.

See the reality of what he was doing to you.

You thought at some point that the pain would go away, subside, but it felt like it only got worse with each thrust of his cock. Rafe was a man on a mission with only one objective in mind, and you were having the hardest time sorting your thoughts, realizing that in this moment you were a means to an end. An objective to be met through the use of your body.

…but you supposed it was more than just that.

Rafe was always entitled, a trait you found somewhat endearing much like towards an entitled child, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he’d feel entitled to you too. Before the night of your birthday, you knew the one thorn in your relationship, the one thing to actually put a crack in your relationship. Deep down somewhere, you expected Rafe to just leave you. After all, why wouldn’t you?

There was no universe in which you’d ever consider the possibility of the alternative.

The possibility that your boyfriend would just take what he wanted.

It didn’t last long—or maybe that was the alcohol in your system sparing you—but you couldn’t even be relieved. Even after Rafe pulled out, spent and satisfied and out of breath, the pain still remained. He was talking, and you didn’t know if he was talking to himself or you, but you paid it no mind. You could still feel him deep in your gut, and you rolled onto your side, curling into yourself.

You didn’t hear him the first time, but the second time Rafe told you to get up, he was forcing you to your feet. It hurt, and you could barely walk, and your confusion only grew. His hold was tight, and his tone sounded off, and you discovered why when headlights from the yard bled through the windows and into your line of sight.

He was rushing you to get upstairs, but you kept stumbling from both the pain and your blurry vision. Rafe didn’t let you go until you were just inside of his room, and as you collapsed to the floor, you could hear the door opening downstairs. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted to, and you hadn’t even realized Rafe had left—to give some half-baked excuse for the broken glass, no doubt—until he returned, suddenly kneeling at your side and begging you to stop crying.

You tried to push him away, but your movements were sluggish, weak, and you weren’t able to hold your own as he pulled you to your feet. Rafe stumbled into the bathroom with you, an arm around you and holding you up as he started the shower. You didn’t want him touching you, but you were physically unable to stop him. Every step hurt and made you stumble, every wave of your arm made you sway, and when the warm water ran over you both, there was nothing you could do as he washed away every remnant of his assault.

You were at Rafe’s side on his birthday, a small smile on your lips as he kept an arm around your waist. Rose thanked you for coming, not that she would expect anything different, and Wheezie asked if you would be staying over. The youngest Cameron had taken a liking to you—all of them did really—and she looked forward to having you around. You wanted to tell her no, but that wasn’t what you said. Instead, you said:

“Its’ Rafe’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I?”

The dark-haired girl beamed, adjusting her glasses, and her satisfaction was contagious. You knew that Rafe’s dynamic with his family was tricky at the best of times, and while you were sure they loved you just fine, something in you also wondered if they liked who Rafe was when he was around you. They were happy to host you for as long as they could.

They had no idea that it was only 24 hours earlier when Rafe tried to kill you.

Trying to leave Rafe resulted in the last thing you ever expected.

That night—and all the other nights that followed—haunted you. When you closed your eyes, you could only see Rafe at his lowest, holding you down and hurting you. You could only feel the pain of him forcing himself inside of you, and the pain that lingered when he was no longer there. The memory of bloody water swirling down the drain was a constant in your mind. As well as the memory of Rafe putting you in his bed, pulling his shirt down to your knees.

You should have left the night of your birthday, you should’ve gotten out then, and none of it would have ever happened, but you told yourself that late was better than never. You told yourself that you learned your lesson and you didn’t have to experience any more hurt to leave. Your eyes were open, and while you didn’t know if you’d ever go against Rafe legally for what he did, you did know that you were leaving him. You had to focus on each step at once. Trying to think so far ahead was enough to scare you.

Right now, you just needed to leave him.

His entire visage had been eerily calm as you broke up with him, voice shaking as you did. Even he hadn’t been able to deny how your relationship had deteriorated, become something unrecognizable and unhealthy. The morning after, you felt like you were existing outside of your body. You could see Rafe leaving apologetic kisses along your face as you stirred, but you couldn’t really feel it. You couldn’t feel his hands either, not until they found a home between your legs, at least.

Your protest was almost immediate, but Rafe had assured you it was fine…and you were scared.

So, you believed him.

Experiencing pain and pleasure at the same time was foreign to you. Rafe’s previous assault was not something to be ignored, but it felt odd to come around him and hiss from the pain of it at the same time. He was gentle, pressing his lips to yours and grazing his fingertips against your skin. His thrusts had been slow and careful, but the damage had been done, and every push of his hips brought out conflicting reactions.

That was how it always went.

Even after the pain and bruises were long gone, you couldn’t stop being afraid of Rafe. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t respect any kind of refusal from you. What kind of relationship was that? How could you thrive in that? Rafe may have been your first everything, but you weren’t naïve. He was an abusive asshole…and you were just too scared to do something about it.

Until last night.

You thought it would be easy. You even remembered internally laughing at yourself for how dramatic you’d made it in your mind. You thought… You thought that Rafe would move on, let you go. After all, he’d finally gotten what he wanted, and you had even exhaled when he nodded, a soft ‘okay’ soon to follow.

“Let me drive you home,” he’d said.

“Okay,” you’d replied.

You didn’t know why you thought it would be that easy.

Things with Rafe hadn’t been easy in months, and your attempted breakup was no different.

You realized that when the needle on the speedometer started to rapidly climb, the sound of Rafe’s revving engine loud in the truck. You asked him what was going on, where he was going, even though deep down you knew. You knew Rafe better than anyone probably, so you knew the answers to your questions before you even asked them.

“Rafe, stop,” you’d begged, reaching for his arm, but the blond simply fixed you with a wry smile.

“Why?” he’d wondered with a shrug. “So, you can leave me? Why would I want that?”

The houses and trees were flying past you outside the window, and you never felt more powerless than in the moment you were trapped in Rafe’s truck, unable to do a thing as he raced down the road towards the end he’d already picked out for the both of you. Any attempt to grab the wheel only resulted in Rafe jerking it—jerking the vehicle in the process—and scaring the shit out of you.

Retracting everything you’d said earlier only resulted in a harsh slap to the steering wheel, a dry laugh from Rafe soon to follow.

“You think I believe that load of shit? Huh?”

“Rafe-!”

“You just tried to break up with me not even thirty minutes ago,” he screamed.

He wasn’t wrong, and you still wanted to, but you were more afraid of dying than living a lie. You pleaded with your boyfriend, assuring him that you didn’t mean it. He only laughed again, and you got the feeling that Rafe was genuinely amused by you. By your tears, by your fear, and by your desperation.

Your heart was racing so fast it could be classified as painful. Your hands were sweating and constantly sliding against the door from where you tried to hold on to it. You pulled at his arm when he swerved into the other lane, swerving back just in time to miss an oncoming truck. Your stomach twisted painfully, bile rising in your throat, and at this point you couldn’t even see the road because of your tears.

“Rafe, please, please just talk to me,” you cried.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, blue eyes focused on the road with not a glance spared towards you, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. You looked out of the window again, unable to make out a thing, and when you reached for Rafe this time, he didn’t slap your hand away. He didn’t protest when you wrapped your arm around his waist, leaning into him and resting your hand against his chest.

You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, and you didn’t know if you stopped fighting as some unconscious tactic or simply because you were accepting what was impossible to escape. Rafe had to have been going a hundred miles an hour, this kind of speed something your brain could barely fathom. It was after some time when you felt his hand on your head and some time after that when you gradually felt the truck slowing.

You were still shaking long after it came to a stop in some wooded area, and the silence in the vehicle was loud. Rafe was just playing with your hair while you trembled against him, and when he stopped, it was only to trail his hand to your neck, gripping the back of it harshly as he forced you to sit up. You knew you looked as distraught as you felt, but Rafe…

Rafe looked calm and in control and nothing less.

His blue eyes ran over your face, drinking in your trembling lips and wet cheeks, lingering on your wide eyes the longest. You felt him rub his thumb along your skin, and when he hummed, it harshly pressed against the side of your neck. Suddenly, the corner of his pink lips curved just the slightest, and nothing about it was soothing.

“I wasn’t serious… You know that, right?”

You didn’t respond because he wasn’t kidding, and you both knew it. Rafe shifted, moving closer, and he brought his other hand up to touch your cheek, wiping your tears away. He studied your eyes, leaning in and grazing your lips.

“It was just…something I didn’t mean. You understand though. Doing things…saying things we don’t mean,” he slowly said to you, swiping his tongue between his lips. “Right…?”

The drop in his voice and the slight raise of his brows had you swallowing, and he was looking at you like he dared you to disagree. Fighting the urge to throw up, and with a shaky nod, you told Rafe what he wanted to hear.

“Right,” you whispered, and he chuckled.

“Alright,” he breathed with a blinding smile, pulling you into his side. “Kelce is throwing together some small thing at his house. I told him we might stop by…”

He trailed off, leaving room for a comment, and you only shrugged.

“That’s fine with me.”

Your voice was barely audible, but Rafe heard you fine, starting the truck and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I knew it would be.”

You’d been quiet the whole night, and you’d been quiet all day, only existing as silent support to Rafe on his birthday. If anyone noticed your reserved demeanor, no one commented on it. No one knew that as you wished Rafe a happy birthday, you were afraid of what could happen if you didn’t smile hard enough. When he kissed you, you could only think of how he’d kissed you after threatening to kill you both. Every time Rafe held your hand, it felt like a chain tethering you to him.

You dreaded the moment the party would thin out and everyone would start trickling from the home in pairs, heading back to the comfort of their own homes until just Rafe and his family remained. Eventually they would call it a night too, and you and Rafe would be alone, and you wouldn’t have a choice but to kiss him back when he eventually kissed you.

…and kiss you he did.

“You almost ruined my birthday, you know,” he mumbled into the kiss, making you pause for half a second.

Your only response was a quiet apology, and Rafe sighed into your mouth.

“That’s okay, baby,” the blond purred. “You know I’ll let you make it up to me.”

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and that was why you let him undress you. You let him wrap his arms around you and hold you close and press kisses to your skin. It was surreal to have sexy with someone you were afraid of, like you were being held hostage in your own body. If Rafe noticed—and you were sure that he did—he didn’t care.

He was content to lay you down and bury his face into the crook of your neck. In fact, you were sure Rafe liked your fear, liked that you were so scared of him. You thought it made it all the more fun for him to push his cock into you and feel you tremble in fear. You just knew there was something in Rafe that took great pleasure in making you momentarily sacrifice your fear of him for ecstasy instead.

He forced your head back, and your chest arched upwards into him. You gasped at the feel of his tongue on your skin, gliding over a hardened bud and tasting you. His hips came down slowly, like he was savoring the feel of you clinging to his cock. He sighed with every thrust, and you were never able to swallow down your own moans once Rafe started stroking that fire building within you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, nipping at your lip as he plunged his cock into you.

One of your legs were thrown over his shoulder, and the stretch burned in a way that wasn’t painful but wasn’t the best either. One of your hands was wrapping around his arm, trying to ground yourself as the other twisted into his sheets. You couldn’t stop gasping, clenching down on him every time Rafe hit that spot in you that made you lose your breath.

When he pushed your leg back more, you yelped in pain, but Rafe only hummed. His thrusts became rougher, and he only hummed again when you hissed. Your hand rested on his chest, pushing against him slightly—a nonverbal communication—but Rafe ignored it.

“Rafe…”

His hips were slapping against yours, and you couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it. Your other hand came up too, and he slapped it away, that same hand wrapped around your throat only moments later. You let out a choked cry, reaching up, but Rafe didn’t stop, continuing to fuck you and choke you.

“Look at me-look at me,” he quietly spat.

Too afraid not to, you did, your distressed gaze meeting his even one in the low lighting. He was so close, nose almost brushing against yours, and he looked between your eyes. His hand tightened around your neck, making your heart skip a beat, and his free hand covered your breast, squeezing it, and your free leg kicked at the sheets.

“I will kill you.”

Your nails pressed into the skin on his arm.

“Do you understand me? You try to leave me again…and I will kill you.”

Your heart was threatening to burst from your chest, and the ceiling behind Rafe’s face was starting to blur. The edges of your vision were growing faint, darkness creeping along the outer rim.

“I will dump your body on the side of the road, and I will get away with it.”

His words and cadence were slow, purposeful, and you knew that Rafe was entirely serious. Tears had long spilled over, and you couldn’t stop crying. Rafe shook you, your neck straining from the action, and the whole time he kept fucking you. His lower movements didn’t stop once, sliding into you over and over and stroking your walls all the while he threatened you.

He roughly let you go, and you coughed, touching your throat and shaking uncontrollably. When Rafe shifted, your leg falling to the bed, you pressed your hands to your face, sobbing into the palms of them. Rafe caged you in, thighs meeting yours with every thrust, and he didn’t seem to care at all at the sight of your distress. In fact, he kissed the back of your hands, humming with every stroke, and you could only think that if you had broken up with him on your birthday then he wouldn’t be threatening your life on his.

Ward Cameron may have felt a lot of things about Rafe, but he wasn’t going to let his only son go to jail.

You should have known that when you called the police, throat tight and phone call tearful as they asked what your emergency was. Telling the woman on the other side of the phone that you were hiding from Rafe Cameron inside of the bathroom wasn’t easy. Telling her that he had a gun was even harder, and something in you wondered if they would’ve been as urgent if they hadn’t heard his booming voice from the other side of the door as he threatened you.

You were sitting on the steps when a familiar car pulled into the driveway behind the cruiser, and you felt your face crumble. There was some relief as the older man went back and forth with Shoupe, but it dwindled the longer it went on. When Ward turned his head towards you, you dropped your gaze, eyes tracing the blood on your foot from where a few shards of glass had nicked it. You didn’t dare look up, not even when you heard his footsteps approaching despite the loud protests from the Sheriff.

When Ward said your name, it was cautious—gentle—and you shook your head.

“No.”

Your name rolled off of his tongue again, and you interrupted whatever he was going to say.

“No, no, no! No,” you cried.

You knew what he was going to say, where this was going, and you refused. You were tired, so tired, and each time you’d tried to do the right thing after your disastrous birthday, you got screwed over. Each time, Rafe was one step ahead or using that charming smile and devious words to convince you it would never happen again. Every slap, every shove, every hand around your throat was proof of all the lies that left his lips.

You were sure that the only truth Rafe had ever told was when he said he’d kill you.

It was silent between you two for some time, and you heard Ward sigh. You bit your lip, worrying it so much you started to taste blood, and you sniffed, wiping your face as you refused to look at the man. When he took another step towards you, you flinched, and only then did you look up to see the way Ward’s face fell.

You watched him press his lips together, only a thin line, now.

“I want you to tell me what happened.”

You scoffed.

“You know what happened. I’m sure Shoupe told you,” you forced out, and Ward exhaled through his nose.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder, looking at his son in the back of the cop car.

“I want to hear it from you. I want to know how a couple’s quarrel turned into-.”

“A couple’s quarrel?” you repeated in disbelief, tears falling as you exhaled. “He threw a vase at me. He put a gun in my mouth.”

You couldn’t tell how Ward took your words, but he did put his hands on his hips.

“Now, Y/N…you know it’s a crime to lie to the police.”

His response didn’t surprise you, and you nodded, your laugh humorless. Ward knew you were telling the truth, he knew just how unhinged Rafe could be, but he didn’t want him in jail. He couldn’t have the Cameron name tarnished by the arrest of his only son on domestic violence charges. Ward would rather handle this in private, away from prying eyes…and it disgusted you.

“I’m not lying, and you know I’m not lying,” you choked out.

“Why would Rafe do this? Right out of the blue?”

You were on your feet, now, sneering at the other man.

“It’s not out of the blue. Rafe has been treating me like shit for months!”

“…and this is the first we’re hearing of it…?”

The eldest Cameron tilted his head to the side, studying you, and you felt your breath leave you. You watched him touch his chest, gaze soft as he seemed to plead with you.

“Now, I’m not saying that’s not true…but you know that’s what they’re going to ask you. They’re going to ask you why you didn’t tell anyone…and they’re going to note how convenient this all is.”

You knew that, and you looked away, hands falling at your side.

“Rafe says you dropped a vase, and it started an argument.”

“He’s lying-.”

“…and anyone can say you’re the liar.”

You pressed your hands to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell. Even through your lids, you could see the change in colors from the flash of the squad car, and when you opened your eyes again, the procession of red and blue lit the yard.

“That gun is legally his…and no one saw him do what you claim he did.”

“Why are you protecting him?” you loudly wondered, looking at the man in disbelief.

You’d eaten dinner with his family, even watched his daughter some nights, and he’d smiled in your face on numerous occasions, treating you like his own. Now, though…when push came to shove…Ward Cameron was showing you that you were not one of his own. Rafe was his own…and you were now a threat.

He took a step towards you, and you reached out to grip the rail to keep yourself from falling.

“I am just telling you what will happen if you continue with this,” he slowly started, and you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him. “They will take Rafe away, and I will pay his bail, and he’ll come home with me. There were no witnesses, and everything is pure speculation, a simple case of he said she said.”

You knew that he was right, and you felt yourself start to shake.

“…and in that scenario, I can’t help you.”

You knew what he was saying. You knew that he was talking about protecting you from more than just scrutiny and the law—he was also talking about protecting you from Rafe. Your lips parted, and you shakily exhaled. You felt like you were going to collapse, legs unsteady, and when you looked over…your eyes finally met a familiar blue pair.

You were positive that Rafe hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since they’d put handcuffs on him. If looks could kill, you were sure that you’d be six feet under, and you frantically blinked. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, and your stomach churned at the memory of his hand on the back of your neck. His other held the gun, angrily forcing the weapon into your mouth as he sneered at you.

Something about returning the smile from some pogue at The Wreck—blond and rowdy and kind of familiar.

You recalled that his name was JJ.

The fight had started almost as soon as you got inside, and you shuddered at the flare of pain in your arm, recalling the way Rafe had shoved you into the wall. You’d only slid down just in time to miss the flying vase. Just thinking about it was enough to paralyze you with fear…and then you thought about what would happen should you choose to have a legal battle with Rafe and his family.

…and lose.

You let out a choked sob, looking away, and letting your face fall into your hands. You collapsed back down onto the steps, Ward’s voice reaching you.

“You tell Shoupe this was all one big misunderstanding…and I can do so much more for you. …but I can’t help you if you go through with this.”

You couldn’t stop crying, because you were trapped…and you knew it. Your parents had money too, just as much as the Cameron’s, but that only evened the playing field, it gave you no advantage, and you were back to square one of your word vs Rafe’s. You knew he would be far more forgiving if you just…did what Ward said. You knew that if you went through with this and lost, Rafe would wring your neck.

“I won’t let my son go to jail, Y/N. One way or another…”

You knew he was telling the truth, the conviction in his tone matching the certainty in your chest.

“…but at least this way, I can help you.”

Your knees bounced as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your tearful gaze focused on the perfectly manicured grass. You curled in on yourself, head falling, and your shoulders shook from your sobs.

“He scares me,” you struggled to say, and Ward placated you.

“I know…I know he does, but you have to let me help you.”

You pulled the ends of your sleeves over your hands, wiping your face. The night was still lit up with red and blue, and you closed your eyes, stomach sinking. It took everything in you to give Ward a shaky nod, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Ward waved the other man over.

You felt like you were betraying yourself, arm still aching and throat still raw from all of your screaming. A lot of your trembling was still from what had happened hours ago, and like that day in his truck…and the night of his party…you’d really thought you were going to die. You couldn’t go through that again, but Ward said that he would protect you because you knew Rafe better than anyone, and you knew that if you tried to press charges against Rafe and didn’t succeed…

He would kill you.

“Y/N wants to talk to you.”

You glanced up at the sound of your name, holding Ward’s gaze for a few seconds before finally meeting Shoupe’s.

“I want… I don’t-I don’t wanna press charges.”

Your words tumbled out, and for a moment, you were sure that Shoupe hadn’t heard you properly. You came to realize that he heard you fine, and his confusion wasn’t from a lack of understanding. You watched him rest his hands on his hips, looking between you and Ward.

“Now, Y/N…” he started, seemingly trying to organize his thoughts. “I heard that phone call. I heard what you said and I heard him yelling.”

“It was just a regular argument, Shoupe,” you whispered with a shrug. “It was stupid. A stupid vase…”

“That he threw…”

The pause was heavy, and you glanced away.

“That I dropped.”

You shook your head when he said your name, and you licked your lips, gaze pleading as they met his again.

“Please, just let him go. He didn’t do anything to me. It was a stupid fight that I exaggerated because…I was angry and things got out of hand, and this just went way beyond what I intended, so…”

The other man didn’t look like he believed you, at all, and you watched him glance at Ward—who hadn’t said a thing—before looking back to you. He sighed, fixing you with a look you couldn’t name.

“Are you sure…?”

Your only response was a nod, unsure if you could lie any more without breaking down. With an aggravated sigh—aggravation at you or at Ward, you didn’t know—Shoupe signaled to his deputy to let Rafe go. Ward was pulled to the side as the two men had a hushed and heated conversation, going back and forth, while your gaze rested on Rafe.

You felt like you were doing the worst thing possible as you watched them guide him out of the backseat. He looked far from happy as they uncuffed him, and just like all night, his gaze refused to leave you. The flashing red and blue bathed him, blue eyes glinting almost dangerously, and you pressed your lips together while you watched him rub his now free wrists.

The other men were distracted as Rafe slowly made his way over, and you didn’t dare move. You were too scared to, and as much as you wanted to pull your eyes away, you couldn’t find the strength to. It was just hours ago that you’d stared into that face as he yelled at you for something as harmless as a smile. Only hours ago, he was pushing you around and threatening you.

…and now those same hands were reaching for you and pulling you to your feet.

You cried for so many reasons as Rafe wrapped his arms around you, rocking you from side to side and shushing you in what was meant to be a soothing voice. They were tight, and you cried harder, apologies slipping past your lips before you realized what you were doing. Rafe was always quick to forgive if you were quick to apologize.

“I know,” you heard and felt him murmur into your hair.

“Please, please don’t…”

You both knew what you were begging for, and he gently shushed you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out again, repeating it as many times as you thought you should, hoping and praying that it was enough. “You have to know that…”

Your words died in the air at the sound of his voice.

“I should be angry with you…but I understand,” he softly told you. “You were scared, and you should’ve been.”

You sniffed, staring at the red and blue grass.

“I went too far, and you were right to be scared.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there, telling you the words that brought you temporary relief.

“I forgive you.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction

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just-aake · 5 months ago

Text

Everlasting Devotion - Part III

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 7572

It’s not difficult to spread news through the kingdom, especially regarding the royal family.

After all, gossip and rumors from the castle staff had initially revealed Natasha’s “secret relationship” with you. It makes sense that you would use the same method to spread the news of your supposed breakup.

With a carefully planned moment when some passing castle staff could easily overhear you and Natasha discussing returning as just friends, the two of you set the stage for your new charade.

By the next day, whispers of the breakup became the focus of every conversation. Nobles and common folks all either speculated whether the information was accurate or tried to pinpoint the reason for the sudden change.

In one of the castle’s guest rooms, maids pack the noble occupant’s belongings while they discuss the matter.

“Do you believe it’s true that Queen Natasha and Lady Y/n are no longer together?” one of them asks, her voice hushed yet eager for gossip.

The other maid glances around briefly before whispering, “I heard that this morning, the two passed each other in the halls with just a simple greeting, nothing like their previous interactions.”

“At least that means that they’re still on friendly terms with each other, right?” another one chimes in.

The first maid shakes her head with a sigh, “I hope so. Remember how Queen Natasha was so depressed when Lady Y/n became distant from her earlier in the year.”

“It’s so unfortunate that things didn’t work out for them,” the second maid remarks sadly, looking at the half-packed trunks before her and asking.

“Is Lady Y/n really leaving this evening?”

“Mhm,” the third maid answers with a nod but then pauses in realization and glances toward the door with a curious look.

“Speaking of which, where is Lady Y/n? She said she had to step away for a moment, but that was a while ago.”

They all look at each other with perplexed and clueless expressions before collectively shrugging in response and returning to their tasks, letting the conversation shift to other gossip.

Meanwhile, over in the opposite wing of the castle, in the new queen’s private chambers, your gasp of breath is muffled under Natasha’s mouth as she covers your lips with hers again, bringing you into another deep kiss.

Your hands clutch tightly at her clothes, pulling her closer from her position above you.

Now, given her newly changed relationship status, the two of you shouldn’t be in this kind of situation together.

However, when you visited her earlier to discuss further details of the plan, one teasing comment led to another, and before she realized it, Natasha found herself pulling you into a kiss and guiding you to her bed, where the two of you are now tangled in each other’s embrace.

“Natasha…” you whisper in between one of the kisses.

Her heartbeat quickens at the sound, loving how her name falls from your lips.

Pulling back slightly, Natasha takes a moment to look at you, and her breath catches at the stunning sight before her.

A lovely red flush graces your cheeks as your chest rises and falls heavily with every breath.

Your eyes look at her with such a loving gaze, and also a hint of desire underneath that causes Natasha to lean in again, unable to resist not being near you.

Her lips hover above yours, brushing them lightly in the gentlest touch.

You release a soft breath of anticipation, urging her closer.

And Natasha’s not one to ever deny a request from you.

Leaning in, she’s about to lose herself in the feeling of you once again — when her door suddenly slams open.

The sound of her younger sibling’s outraged exclamation fills the air.

“You broke up with Y/n?!”

A surprised shove from you pushes Natasha off from above your body, causing her to instinctively catch herself beside you on the bed before she could fall over the edge.

Realizing the result of your action, you reach out to steady her and give her an embarrassed, apologetic look before withdrawing away when you remember the new presence in the room.

Groaning at the interruption, Natasha runs her fingers through her hair in frustration, pushing it back from where it had fallen over her face as she shoots a glare at her little sister.

“How many times have I told you to knock, Yelena?!”

Ignoring her reprimand, Yelena stands frozen, mouth agape in shock. She looks between the two of you in confusion, struggling to find words.

After a second, she regains her composure, swiftly closes the door, and turns to face both of you again, pointing at Natasha in accusation.

“No way,” Yelena groans in disbelief. “Please don’t tell me this one of your stupid plans again.”

Sitting up straighter at the insult, Natasha huffs and crosses her arms in offense.

Before she can begin an argument with her sister, you gently rest your hand on her arm, stopping her.

“Actually, Yelena,” you interject. “This time, it was my idea.”

“To break up!?” Yelena exclaims, her voice rising in confusion and disbelief.

“To pretend to break up,” Natasha stresses the distinction with a frown.

She stands from the bed, subtly adjusting her clothes where you had pulled them, inadvertently revealing a glimpse of her toned body for a brief second.

Clearing your throat lightly at the sight, you quickly look away and scoot to the opposite side of the bed from Natasha, standing and directing your attention to Yelena instead.

“It’s just until the matter with Dreykov is resolved,” you explain. “There’s so much tension between everyone on the council at the moment, and I don’t think our relationship is helping to ease that pressure.”

“Unbelievable,” Yelena sighs in exasperation, rubbing her temples as she mutters, “Why can’t you two just be a normal couple?”

“We are a normal couple,” Natasha argues defensively, her brows furrowing as she crosses her arms.

“Well, according to the whole kingdom, you’re not even together anymore,” Yelena reveals.

You release a relieved breath, nodding at the news.

“So it worked. People actually believe that we’ve broken up,” you remark before glancing at Natasha for confirmation.

“That’s good. Isn’t it, Natasha?”

For some reason, your relieved words cause an uncomfortable feeling to form in her chest. Natasha presses her lips slightly in a thin line in discomfort, but when you turn to look at her with the question, her expression quickly shifts, and she manages a small smile.

“Yeah…” Natasha nods lightly. “…good.”

Yelena makes a sound of disbelief, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters under her breath.

Turning to her sister, Natasha asks impatiently, “Was there something you needed?”

Unbothered by her annoyed tone, Yelena shrugs calmly.

“Not really. I originally came here to slap some sense into you, but since you’re just pretending, I don’t have to anymore.”

“Great, then leave,” Natasha responds flatly.

“Actually,” you interject, stepping in between the two. “I think I should go. I need to finish preparing everything for my return home this evening anyway.”

Natasha’s expression falls at the reminder.

She tried to convince you to stay longer, but you remained firm in your decision to return to your manor as soon as possible.

Letting out a tiny sigh, Natasha takes your hand, caressing it gently as she pulls you close.

“Alright then, I’ll meet you later in the courtyard before you leave.”

At her offer, you and Yelena exchange a quick glance at each other, silently communicating something to each other.

“What is it now?” Natasha asks, her irritation resurfacing at the unspoken interaction. She already knows she’s not going to like the answer.

Stepping back, Yelena raises her hands in surrender and shakes her head in refusal, clearly opting out of delivering the bad news.

Natasha rolls her eyes and turns to you, her gaze expectant.

You give her hand in yours a tiny squeeze before gently pulling away, patting her arm to offer some comfort.

“It might be better if you don’t,” you explain carefully. “People are just starting to believe our ruse, and we wouldn’t want them to become suspicious.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief.

“So seeing my best friend off before she leaves is suspicious?”

“No,” Yelena answers with a slight smirk. “But it’s been less than a day since you broke her heart. Wouldn’t a breakup be more believable if there’s not much interaction between you two at the moment?”

Her words cause Natasha to frown.

“Is that what they’re saying?” Natasha asks, her voice growing more upset. “That I hurt Y/n. I would never do that.”

“But you kind of did,” Yelena counters before shrugging slightly. “At least the pretend version of you did.”

Natasha’s brows furrow deeply at the revelation, a mixture of frustration and sadness flashing in her eyes.

She opens her mouth to argue, but you interrupt her by placing a calming touch on her shoulder.

“What matters is that our plan’s working,” you say, caressing her arm comfortingly before intertwining your fingers with hers, bringing her focus to you.

“Which means Yelena’s right,” you continue firmly. “We shouldn’t be seen together for the moment.”

You tilt your head and look at her with that same soft expression that always makes her want to grant any request of yours.

“Okay, Natasha?” you ask for her confirmation.

She presses her lips slightly in irritation at the situation, but at your expectant gaze, Natasha relents with a sigh.

“Okay,” she murmurs reluctantly. “I’ll keep my distance.”

In the background, Yelena mutters a soft “whipped” under her breath before coughing lightly when Natasha shoots her a warning glare.

You roll your eyes at Yelena’s teasing before cupping Natasha’s face and pressing a light kiss on her cheek.

“I’ll see you at the next council meeting,” you reassure, turning toward the door.

Considering that’s days away, Natasha isn’t all that comforted by your words. Her eyes follow you, a mixture of longing and resignation in her heart.

As you walk past Yelena, she remarks with a mischievous grin.

“I’m telling Kate.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” you reply with an amused smile. “Goodbye, you two. And Yelena, don’t tease Natasha too much when I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Yelena calls out with a sarcastic wave.

When the door closes, Yelena turns to Natasha with a knowing smirk.

“So…how many seconds did it take for you to cave and agree to Y/n’s idea?”

Natasha sighs deeply, running a hand through her hair in exhaustion before moving toward her desk.

“Not now, Yelena,” she warns, not in the mood for further teasing.

Yelena observes her for a moment, noting the tension in her posture, before shrugging and turning her attention to her sister’s display of weapons. She picks up one of the swords, testing its weight and balance with an appreciative nod, and takes a few practice swings.

Natasha ignores her sister’s actions, already used to Yelena always playing with her things, and turns her attention to the documents she was reviewing before she was understandably distracted by your presence.

Her brows pinch in irritation when she realizes that most are from nobles expressing their agreement with her decision to break off her relationship with you, followed by their recommendations for other potential political partners.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Yelena says suddenly, grabbing Natasha’s attention.

Glancing up, Natasha gives her a questioning look, prompting Yelena to elaborate and gesture at her with the sword.

“You and Y/n pretending not to be together.”

Natasha scoffs and leans back confidently against her chair.

“We’ve known each other for years. I think we have a pretty good idea of how to behave as friends.”

“Mmm, Y/n probably can, but you can’t.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Yelena,” Natasha remarks sarcastically, brushing off the comment.

“No, I’m serious,” Yelena insists, moving closer to stand across the desk from Natasha. She waves her unarmed hand in the air for emphasis as she explains.

“It was fine before when the two of you pretended to be a couple, but that’s because, let’s be honest, you often behaved like one in the past.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief, refusing to acknowledge the most likely truth in her words.

“But pretending to be just friends?” Yelena continues, pointing at Natasha accusingly. “I can’t even remember the last time you looked at Y/n without that lovestruck look in your eyes.”

“I look at her the same way as everyone else,” Natasha defends.

“Mhm, sure,” Yelena responds flatly, rolling her eyes.

With a long sigh, Yelena’s expression grows serious, and a hint of concern flickers in her gaze as she continues.

“I’m just saying it’s obvious that you’ve been in love with Y/n much longer than she has been with you. And now that you’ve experienced what it’s like to be with her, you’ll probably struggle with this whole ‘just friends’ situation.”

A silence envelops the room as Yelena’s words hang in the air.

Natasha appears to be contemplating her sister’s warning before she leans forward on her desk with a slight smirk.

“Y/n told you when she fell in love with me?” Natasha asks curiously.

“You’re hopeless,” Yelena deadpans, hanging her head in defeat.

Natasha chuckles lightly, leaning back in her chair, relaxed and sure.

“I’ll be fine. I know how Y/n feels about me, and she knows how I feel about her. Nothing is going to come between us.”

Yelena shoots her a skeptical look.

“Except for the fact that the two of you are now eligible for other suitors,” she points out, pondering for a moment before adding, “I mean, wasn’t Y/n already meeting with Commander Hill as a potential partner before you two pretended to be together?”

Natasha recalls the moment when you confronted her about the secret relationship rumor after your date with Maria.

You had told her that the two of you were just talking then, but Natasha still remembers the discomfort and nervousness she felt when she discovered you were looking for a partner.

Now that she thinks about it, Natasha wonders, if there wasn’t that momentary rift in her friendship with you, would she have been considered as one of your choices as a potential partner, or would you still have accepted Maria’s invitation instead?

The sudden curious thought unnerves her slightly, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her chair.

Attempting to appear unbothered, Natasha shrugs and replies calmly, “Yeah, but nothing resulted from those meetings.”

“Because of your little charade,” Yelena points out. “Who knows, maybe if you hadn’t asked Y/n to be a part of your plan, they would’ve been married by now.”

Natasha frowns deeply at that comment before quickly shaking her head to dispel the uncomfortable thought.

Considering she has a brief meeting with the said commander later today, the last thing she wants to dwell on is how you and Hill nearly shared a future together.

“Is there a point you’re trying to make with all of this?” Natasha asks.

In response, Yelena slams her hand atop the desk, shooting her a serious glare and an exasperated sigh.

“I just don’t understand why you would choose to go backward in your relationship.”

Natasha gives her a confused look.

“As opposed to what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Yelena replies sarcastically, gesturing to one of the desk drawers. “Maybe that little box hidden in there might give you an idea.”

Natasha looks at the drawer where she knows the ring intended for you is hidden, then back to her sister with a disapproving glare.

“You’ve been snooping through my things again,” Natasha accuses.

“Wha-No…” Yelena defends.

She waves her hand aimlessly in the air as she tries to come up with a believable excuse.

“I just happened to see it…that one time.”

Natasha crosses her arms and raises a disbelieving brow, staring at her expectantly.

Knowing she’s been caught, Yelena sighs and continues, “…when I was searching your desk to borrow one of your knives,” she admits.

Natasha blinks at her in confusion.

“What happened to all of yours?” Natasha asks, referring to Yelena’s own collection of weapons.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yelena brushes off quickly, looking away and twirling the sword in her hand in distraction.

Natasha examines her sister carefully, suspicion in her eyes. She knows Yelena well enough to recognize when she’s hiding something.

However, Natasha also understands the lack of privacy and freedom that comes with their roles in the royal family, where every move and decision is under constant scrutiny.

Having recently experienced this lack of freedom herself, Natasha decides to give her some leeway, trusting that Yelena will come to her if she needs help.

“Alright, then,” Natasha accepts nonchalantly.

Yelena squints at her in suspicion at her simple response before widening her eyes in surprise, realizing she wasn’t going to pry further. Yelena goes to return the sword to its place before facing her again, bringing the subject back to the original discussion.

“So, why haven’t you asked Y/n to marry you?” Yelena questions, her tone curious and insistent.

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it Mom?” Yelena asks knowingly. “Is she trying to make you do some elaborate proposal?”

“No, it’s not that,” Natasha chuckles lightly before her expression turns somber at the real reason why she hasn’t asked you to marry her yet.

“It’s just…with everything that’s happened, I just…I want to make sure it’s safe…”

Natasha glances down at the documents from the overbearing nobles, their demands and judgments returning to her mind. She rubs her temple in irritation, feeling the tension increasing there again.

“…before I drag her into this kind of life,” she finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.

Yelena observes her for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought before she shakes her head knowingly.

“Nat, you can’t protect Y/n from every danger out there,” Yelena remarks. “Besides, we both know she’s perfectly capable of handling herself.”

“I know,” Natasha answers sadly, recalling how you tend to face your problems alone and how well you had hidden your troubles from her and the others.

She still regrets not noticing what you were going through sooner.

Determined not to make the same mistake again, Natasha mutters softly under her breath in a promise, “But she shouldn’t have to.”

Realistically, she can’t shield you from every danger. But she can still try to give you a peaceful kingdom—the kind you’ve always believed she could accomplish.

That’s the least she can do for you after all the trust you’ve placed in her.

Letting out a tired exhale, Natasha reaches to the side of her desk and opens a secret compartment, retrieving the weapon from its place.

Her expression softens as she turns the item over in her hand, examining it with a gentle touch. It is one of her favorites and special to her for a reason.

The engraving of her family crest is prominently displayed on the hilt. The intricate hourglass design reflects hours of delicate and careful craftsmanship. Each detail and aspect of the weapon had been chosen and customized personally for her.

After a moment’s hesitation, she looks at Yelena in contemplation and makes a decision.

“Here, so you won’t have to go through my things again,” Natasha says, offering the knife to Yelena.

Before she can take it, Natasha pulls it back slightly and points at her with a warning, continuing firmly, “But you better return it after you finish with whatever it is you’re doing.”

Yelena nods in understanding as she accepts the weapon, admiring it appreciatively before recognizing it and securing it at her side.

“Right, because this was a present from Y/n. It’d be a real shame if I accidentally lost it,” she jokes with a slight chuckle.

Not amused, Natasha gives her a severe glare, a silent warning that causes Yelena to raise her hands in surrender.

“I’m kidding,” Yelena reassures. “Don’t worry, Nat, I’ll take care of it. Promise.”

She makes her way to the door and opens it before pausing and turning back to Natasha.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Mom wanted me to tell you that you need to meet with her sometime soon to discuss the plans for your birthday celebration.”

Natasha groans at the reminder.

Her upcoming birthday meant yet another social event that some nobles will manipulate for their own selfish agendas.

Considering how the previous year’s celebration turned out, Natasha is not looking forward to participating in the planning for this one.

“I assume ‘nothing’ is not an acceptable answer for her,” Natasha says with resignation.

Yelena shrugs, replying, “Maybe if Y/N was the one to suggest that. Knowing Mom, she’d probably consider it then.”

She pauses, a mischievous glint in her eyes, before releasing an exaggerated gasp.

“But wait, it wouldn’t make sense for Y/N to do that for you.”

Her voice drips with sarcasm as she gives Natasha a teasing smirk.

“You know, since you broke her heart.”

Before Natasha can react, Yelena swiftly hides behind the door, closing it just in time to block the small, paperweight Natasha hurls at her, the object clattering harmlessly to the floor.

Her laughter echoes down the hallway, causing Natasha to huff in irritation.

She turns her glare to the documents on her desk. With a frustrated growl, she crumples the papers and throws them away.

As she sits back in her chair, Natasha runs a hand through her hair, closing her eyes for a moment to collect herself. She sighs deeply, realizing she’s not going to like this new charade at all.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After preparing everything for your return home, Natasha’s mother invited you to spend some time with her before you leave.

The fireplace casts a warm glow, creating a cozy atmosphere in the room as you engage in a friendly game with her.

Sitting across from the former queen, you study the board between you, contemplating your next move.

“So,” Melina suddenly speaks up, drawing your attention. “You and Natasha have decided to remain friends, is that right?”

Realizing she’s referring to the breakup rumors you and Natasha fabricated, you look down at the board to avoid her scrutinizing gaze. Calmly, you move one of your pieces forward, capturing one of hers, before nodding and meeting her eyes again.

“Yes,” you reply, keeping your tone casual. “We both agreed it would be for the best.”

“Hmm,” she hums thoughtfully.

Her eyes narrow in suspicion at you as she taps the edge of the board in contemplation.

You maintain your composure, accustomed to facing similarly observant eyes from her daughter.

After a moment, Melina sighs softly and turns her attention back to the board.

“I see. Well, I won’t deny that I’m disappointed it didn’t work out between you two, but I promised Natasha I wouldn’t meddle in her love life anymore. So…” She moves one of her pieces and looks up at you with a nod. “…if that’s what you’ve both decided, I’ll respect your decision.”

You offer a small, appreciative smile and refocus on the board. Noticing the new position of her piece, you furrow your brows in confusion.

“Why would you place your king inside the enemy’s territory like that?” you ask.

Melina smiles faintly, letting out a melancholic sigh as her gaze drifts to the board, lost in a distant memory.

“It’s more common than you might think, especially during wartime. Spies have always given our kingdom a fighting chance, so leaders often took on such roles too.”

She looks back at you with a smirk.

“Even I was a spy at one point in my life.”

“That sounds dangerous,” you remark, moving a counter piece and capturing another one of hers.

“It is, but if done correctly, it can be very effective,” she explains, moving the king to a position you didn’t anticipate, trapping your defenses.

She leans back in her chair, relaxed and confident, nodding at you with a hint of a smile. “And who knows, you may discover something along the way.”

Frowning, you scrutinize the board, searching for a path to recover from Melina’s powerful move, but find none. With a soft sigh, you shake your head in defeat.

“I should’ve known better than to think I could beat you in a game of war and strategy,” you admit, leaning back in your chair.

Melina waves her hand dismissively, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Nonsense, you’ve matched me at every move up until the very end. It’s impressive, really. I believe you strategize almost at the same level as your father.”

Your body tenses at the compliment, and your expression falters as you withdraw your hands to your lap.

The warmth of the fire seems to fade, replaced by a sudden chill that runs through you.

Melina notices your change in demeanor, her brow furrowing with concern as she realizes her mistake.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” she apologizes genuinely, her voice softening. She reaches out as if to touch your arm but hesitates, choosing to respect your space. “That was insensitive of me.”

“It’s okay,” you mutter, your voice barely audible as you shake your head slightly. Your hands clench slightly with your next thought, the tension palpable in the air. “I mean, it makes sense that I would have internalized some of his ways of thinking after all these years.”

“No,” Melina interjects firmly, leaning forward to ensure you hear her clearly. “You are not like him, Y/n. You are better. In every way.”

Her eyes lock onto yours, filled with conviction and deep, unwavering belief in you.

The sincerity in her words warms you, and you give her a small, genuine smile of appreciation. You hope that you will be able to prove her right.

Still sensing the slight tension in your expression, Melina claps her hands together, a determined look on her face.

“Now, I wouldn’t want you to leave without a little something from me,” she remarks, reaching over to grab a bundle of books and handing them to you.

“Here you are,” she continues. “You’ve been quite curious about the previous war in our recent conversations, so I had these old books found for you. Unfortunately, there isn’t much information about the Starks, like you requested.”

“Thank you,” you say in slight surprise. As you flip through the books. Your fingers run along their spines until one, in particular, catches your eye. Its edges are charred and damaged as if it had survived a fire.

“Oh, how did that one get in there?” Melina asks, peering over with a hint of confusion.

“What is it?” you ask, intrigued by the book’s worn appearance.

“It belonged to King Howard Stark, found among the remnants after the fire burned down their carriage,” she explains. “We tried to return some of the things we salvaged from the accident, but their son didn’t want to accept anything from us then. Still, we are fortunate that he at least agreed to keep the peace treaty his parents had established.”

You delicately trace the front of the book, absorbing the revelation. Though you once claimed you wanted nothing to do with your identity, you can’t deny your curiosity about what life might have been like if things had turned out differently or about the people who would’ve been a part of your life instead.

Melina sighs sadly at the memories. “I should return that to the storage,” she says, reaching for the book.

But you pull it closer, asking hesitantly, “Is it okay if I hold onto it…just for a bit?”

Melina observes you thoughtfully, humming in contemplation before deciding, “I guess that should be fine since I know you’d take care of it. But why the sudden interest in the Starks?” she asks.

You shrug lightly, tightening your hold on the book.

“Like you said, just curious.”

Before she can press further, a knock on the door interrupts the conversation, and Melina calls them in. The door creaks open, revealing a guard who bows slightly and declares, “The carriage is ready outside for Lady Y/n.”

Hearing this, you stand and give a bow in goodbye to the former queen.

“I should go.”

Raising her hand in a stopping gesture, Melina stands with an amused expression.

“Hold on, with all my spare time now, I don’t see why I can’t come with you to see you off.”

You pause, slightly surprised, your eyebrows raising, but you don’t refuse her company as the two of you make your way to the courtyard.

When you step outside, the chill of the evening air greets you. At this late hour, the area is almost devoid of workers and visitors. The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone paths.

However, the quiet atmosphere is disrupted by a rhythmic clang of metal against metal from the nearby training yard.

Curious, you glance toward the sound, and a tiny, amused smile forms on your face when you spot the familiar redhead, seemingly engrossed in a sparring session.

“How strange. Natasha doesn’t typically train at this time of day,” Melina comments beside you, noticing her daughter’s presence. She gives you a questioning look, her eyes sharp with curiosity.

You shrug slightly, your gaze naturally following Natasha’s graceful movements as she parries and strikes at each attack.

“I’m not sure why she would be training at this time either,” you reply softly, the lie slipping quickly from your lips.

As you continue to watch, you realize that Natasha’s opponent is Commander Hill. You recall that they were scheduled to meet today, but it seems they decided to test their skills against each other instead.

You’re fairly certain who suggested the idea, conveniently placing them in the training yard just as you are leaving.

At one point, Natasha’s eyes meet yours, and a tiny grin briefly breaks through her concentrated expression, causing your lips to quirk up lightly in response.

“I see,” Melina mutters before clearing her throat.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you remember her presence, realizing how long you must have been staring at Natasha.

Turning away casually, feigning disinterest, you return your attention to the former queen, hoping she didn’t notice your captivated expression.

Unfortunately, the amused grin on her face, accompanied by a raised brow, suggests otherwise.

Sighing internally, you can’t believe it hasn’t even been a day since you and Natasha started this charade, and you are already getting caught by her sister and mother.

You’ll need to work harder to suppress your feelings for Natasha to ensure that this charade remains convincing to others in the future.

Taking a deep breath, you brace yourself for the anticipated reprimand of your deception.

Melina hums thoughtfully, her eyes darting between her daughter and you before giving you a pointed tilt of her head.

“I trust that the two of you know what you’re doing?” she finally asks.

Surprised by her words, you stare at her momentarily before nodding hesitantly and answering softly, “Yes.”

“Good,” Melina says with a satisfied nod. “That’s all I need to know.”

You tilt your head in slight confusion at her reaction, astonished by her nonchalant attitude and the trust she places in you regarding the situation. You wonder if she’s toying with you, offering a false sense of security before delivering a reprimand or lecture.

However, Melina simply gives you a reassuring smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder before surveying the surrounding courtyard. Her brow furrows as she realizes something, and she calls for a nearby guard.

“Where are all the escorts?” she asks, concern evident in her voice.

Before the guard can respond, you break out of your stupor and speak up.

“I told Captain Rogers that I would be fine without one,” you reveal.

The aftermath of the recent attack had left many of the castle’s soldiers out of commission, still recovering from their injuries, both physically and mentally. You can see that the remaining soldiers are spread thin, their numbers barely sufficient to maintain the castle’s defenses.

“No, that’s not acceptable. Surely, we can offer you some protection on your way home,” Melina insists, moving to command one of the guards.

You stop her, interjecting reassuringly, “Thank you, but really, there’s no need.” You gesture towards the carriage. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t be alone during the ride.”

Standing in the distance near the carriage are two familiar figures waiting for you.

Upon seeing who you’re referring to, Melina relents with a soft sigh in understanding, “Oh, alright then.”

She gently touches your arm, adding, “It’s been a pleasure having you at the castle, Y/n. Come visit again soon.”

You give her a bow in farewell, returning the sentiment, “I will. Thank you…for everything.”

Leaving the former queen’s side, you make your way over to the carriage and find Pietro near the packed chests at the back. He fidgets with the restraints, securing them again and again, his movements a blur of nervous energy.

After stowing the bundle of books in the carriage seat, you quietly approach him.

“What are you doing?” you ask the older twin curiously.

Pietro jumps slightly, startled by your sudden presence at his side, and replies hastily, “We’re not doing anything!”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion at his reaction.

Seeing your expression, Pietro shifts nervously and tries to lean casually on the chests, patting them awkwardly.

“I mean, I’m just checking to make sure everything’s secure.”

“The guards already did that,” you point out with a raised brow.

“Well, you can’t be too careful,” Pietro sputters, his eyes shifting around nervously.

You notice his gaze darting toward something beside you.

Turning to see what he’s looking at, you find his twin sister standing a short distance away, gazing intently at the training field.

Confused and surprised that Wanda has yet to greet you, you start to make your way toward her.

Before you can get far, Pietro swiftly slides in front of you, blocking your path and waving his hands frantically.

“You know what, you’re right. Everything’s all ready to go. We should just get into the carriage now,” he suggests quickly, attempting to steer you in a different direction.

Pinching your brows further in suspicion at his behavior, you step back and cross your arms.

“What is going on? Why are you acting so strange?”

Pietro’s face flushes with a mixture of guilt and anxiety.

“It’s nothing, really. Just…um..uh,” he stammers, but his eyes flicker once more to Wanda.

Determined to get to the bottom of this, you sidestep Pietro and stride over to Wanda. He quickly follows behind you, still trying to convince you that nothing is happening.

With her arms crossed, Wanda focuses intently on something in the distance, not noticing your approach.

You follow her gaze curiously, and your eyes widen in surprise at what you see.

In the training yard, Natasha is now struggling in the sparring session, with Maria seemingly gaining the upper hand with each strike. While it’s not unusual for the skilled and formidable commander to hold her own against Natasha, you quickly notice that something is off compared to when you watched them earlier.

Natasha’s movements and swings are staggered, lacking their usual precision. When their swords connect again, you spot the reason.

A tiny red mist appears at the point of contact, and Natasha’s sword is slightly shifted from its intended position, causing her to lose balance from the sudden, unexpected shift in pressure.

Reacting quickly, Natasha adjusts herself and continues the fight.

Swiftly turning to Wanda, you see the subtle red glow in her eyes and on her fingers, moving slightly from where they’re hidden in her crossed arms.

“Wanda!” you call out.

Startled, all signs of her powers vanish immediately, and she turns to you with an innocent expression.

“Yes?”

You give her a disbelieving look, silently telling her she isn’t fooling you.

“In the carriage,” you declare, pointing back in the direction you came from.

Frowning, Wanda points at Natasha in the distance. “But she broke up—”

“Now,” you say firmly.

Wanda sighs, dropping her hands to her sides with a pout, but she follows your order and heads to the carriage.

Turning to the other twin, who is now standing awkwardly nearby, pretending to innocently examine something on his shirt, you call out, “You too, Pietro.”

Grabbing his arm, you pull him toward the carriage. “Don’t think I forgot about your part in this.”

He yelps in surprise at your sudden action. “But I didn’t do anything!” he exclaims incredulously.

“Really? So, you weren’t trying to distract me from finding out what Wanda was doing?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Pietro starts to answer but hesitates, closing his mouth guiltily under your knowing gaze. Deciding there’s no point in lying, he quickly jumps into the carriage before you can reprimand him further.

Shaking your head at their behavior, you hold the carriage door, preparing to enter, but can’t resist glancing over your shoulder at the training yard once more.

Natasha stands victorious despite the earlier interference. She helps Maria to her feet, then casually turns toward you as she sheathes her sword. Catching your gaze, Natasha flashes her usual confident smirk and follows it with a quick, flirty wink.

Huffing lightly, you roll your eyes at her antics but can’t help the smile that forms on your face. With a slight nod of goodbye, you climb into the carriage, and the driver closes the door behind you.

Natasha watches you over at the training ground until you disappear inside the carriage.

She’s glad she thought of arranging this short training session, knowing you would be leaving at this time. This way, she keeps her promise to maintain distance while still seizing the chance to see you.

The moment you appeared with her mother, her attention immediately drifted toward you. Glancing down at her hand, Natasha clenches and unclenches it, observing it curiously before looking back at the carriage.

Perhaps her focus on you was why some of her strikes felt off earlier.

The commander steps up beside her after recovering from her defeat, and her eyes follow Natasha’s gaze across the courtyard.

“Oh, is Lady Y/n leaving today?” Maria inquires, wiping sweat from her brow.

Realizing she is still staring, Natasha quickly turns away. She nods slightly and tries to mask her emotions with a casual tone. “It appears so.”

Maria’s expression shifts to one of sympathy at the seemingly new dynamic between you and Natasha.

“I’m sorry to hear that it didn’t work out between you two,” Maria says gently. “I hope this wasn’t because of the remarks from the other council members.”

Natasha grimaces at the reminder of why she’s in this position, but she quickly changes her expression to something more neutral.

“These kinds of romantic relationships are always complicated,” she says with forced nonchalance, adding, “We’ll be fine eventually. This won’t change anything about our friendship.”

Maria nods thoughtfully, glancing back at your carriage.

“That’s good to hear,” she says. “Whether romantic or platonic, I believe Lady Y/n is someone great to have by your side, either way, Your Majesty. The other lords don’t even try to know her enough to understand that.”

Her praise reminds Natasha of Yelena’s earlier remarks regarding you and the commander.

Clearing her throat to dispel the sudden discomfort, Natasha tries to sound casual as she brings up the topic of Maria’s intentions.

“I heard you and she also shared a brief sort of courtship before,” Natasha begins, hesitantly asking, “Do you still have an interest in Lady Y/n in that way?”

Maria turns her attention back to Natasha, her expression slightly surprised before turning contemplative as she considers her response.

“I won’t lie and say that I’m not intrigued after getting to know Lady Y/n,” she finally replies, her words careful and measured.

Natasha’s brows furrow slightly at her admission, realizing Yelena was correct about the potential problems this new charade could bring.

You’ve always teased her for having so many admirers, yet you are oblivious to the many others also drawn to you.

Now that you’re no longer spoken for, they are probably eager for the chance to be with you. But with the conditions of this charade, Natasha can’t do anything to prevent it from happening, forced to keep her distance and maintain an indifferent attitude about the situation.

Natasha sighs internally at the thought and returns her focus to the conversation.

Before she can muster an appropriate response, Maria gives her a small, knowing smile as she continues, “However, I won’t be pursuing such relations with her anytime soon if that’s what you’re asking.”

Confused, Natasha furrows her brows and asks curiously, “Why is that?”

Maria chuckles lightly before gesturing at her.

“Well, first, because she just got out of a relationship with you,” Maria reminds her. “I’m sure she would prefer some time to herself before delving into something with another person so soon.”

Natasha nods in understanding, acknowledging the truth in Maria’s reasoning. “And the other reason?”

Maria’s eyes drift back to the carriage briefly before returning to Natasha. A faint, self-conscious smile plays on her lips.

“Contrary to how it may seem with my other accomplishments, I’m not as confident when it comes to matters of romance,” she admits.

Natasha considers this, realizing she rarely hears about the commander’s romantic pursuits. The only time it was mentioned was by you about your meeting with her.

Rather than reassurance, her revelation brings about a new discomfort as Natasha suddenly realizes something.

She raises her hand in a halting gesture, her thoughts racing as she pieces together the new information.

“Wait, are you saying Y/n asked you out first?” Natasha asks hesitantly.

Maria nods in confirmation before tilting her head slightly as if recalling the memory.

“I’m still curious as to why she did, though, considering her secret relationship with you,” she remarks thoughtfully. She shakes her head and shrugs, continuing, “Though, maybe it was her father’s decision to have us meet. I heard he made such arrangements for her during that time.”

Natasha falls silent as she processes the revelation. The uncomfortable feeling from before resurfaces with full force. She knows Dreykov had no part in this.

Choosing Maria was something you decided for yourself.

After a moment of silence, Maria speaks up, sensing Natasha’s distracted state.

“Should I come back another time?” she suggests.

Pulled from her thoughts, Natasha quickly shakes her head in response, deciding to redirect the conversation to other matters rather than continue spiraling further about the subject. She can deal with her feelings later.

“No, it’s fine,” she reassures, taking a deep breath to regain her composure. “You mentioned you found something troubling about Rumlow’s weapon operations.”

Maria nods, retrieving a folded document from her side and handing it to Natasha.

“One of the orders from his books lists some strange, unapproved weapons that came in recently,” she explains.

Natasha furrows her brows as she examines the document. It indicates that the weapons were sent to Rumlow from somewhere far west. But the only two kingdoms in that direction would be Carter and—

“Stark?” Natasha mutters in contemplation.

After years of brief communication with the former enemy kingdom, the sudden influx of information concerning them is both unusual and unsettling.

First, there was their previous captain Bucky’s reappearance from hiding, then your revealed identity, and now possibly this.

Natasha would feel better about the situation if she had a chance to meet the Stark king and see what sort of person he is, but all she’s learned about him is from rumors and stories—most of which are not exactly favorable toward his character.

“We’re not sure,” Maria answers, pulling Natasha from her thoughts. “But that’s the least troubling part.”

“What is it then?” Natasha questions.

“They’re missing from his inventory,” she reveals. “Most likely, the weapons have already been sold or distributed to his followers.”

The mercenaries of Hydra. Some of their members escaped capture after her duel with Rumlow and are still hiding in the kingdom.

It’s troubling to think they may have gotten hold of these weapons, and now, without someone to follow, who knows what they might plan to do.

Natasha sighs at the news, adding to her growing list of worries.

“What kind of weapons are we dealing with here?”

“I’ve asked around, but not even Clint has an idea of what these weapons are capable of,” Maria answers.

Natasha frowns, then nods with determination.

“Inform Captain Rogers of the situation and see if he can spare any more help in the investigation,” she instructs. “We need to find these weapons quickly before they are used to hurt anybody.”

“Understood,” Maria replies, nodding. “I’ll let him know right away.”

As Maria leaves to carry out the orders, Natasha takes a moment to collect herself.

The thought of being unable to be near you for a while tugs at her heart, but combined with these new problems, she steels herself, understanding that there are other pressing matters at the moment.

Her feelings can wait. It’s like she said before — Nothing is going to come between you two. Natasha glances back toward the departing carriage one last time, a mix of conflicted emotions flickering across her face. Right?

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A/n: thank you for reading! I know I already said that it may take longer in between parts, but I’m still sorry about the wait (and for how long this part is 😬) Hopefully, with some free time coming up, I can have more time to write.

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @nothanksbye07, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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dollwrites · 8 months ago

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the brainworms are brainworming soo… let’s talk about how possessive king!Griffith becomes over his queen.

ivory veils crafted from silk. parasols that catch the white rose petals the commoners rain down upon you. headpieces adorned with pure, white wings whose span careens around from the back of your head to spread across the bridge of your nose. your own kingdom’s population have never been allowed to gaze upon your countenance ( and you, in turn, never able to know what your subjects look like as their eyes gleam with awe at the king and his queen ) — only the lowest quarter on rare occasion. your soft lips as they curve to form the syllables of his name in a whisper before he juts his left shoulder into view, concealing you behind the glittering silver of his armor.

not even inside the palace walls are you permitted to be perceived. you are to hold on to one of his hands with both of yours, allow your husband to be your sight and guide you through seemingly endless corridors. each step you take, you count. you know how many it takes to reach each room in your palace, though you rarely see its magnificence for yourself. once inside the destination, your ladies in waiting as well as royal guard must leave the bedchambers before Griffith will run his willowy finger along the shape of your jaw. “Closed?” you know what the inquiry means, and you close your eyes behind their shield, before giving a subtle and obedient nod. the gentle tilt upwards, as his svelte digits slip beneath your eye covering, lifting it slowly, so as not to shock the delicate gems he keeps hidden away in darkness all day. “Slowly now, my pet.” he murmurs, the once rough pad of his fingertip feeling soft and delicate as it traces your temple, over your cheekbone, and down to your lips.

you are eager to see, but you allow your eyelids to flutter for a few beats before you open them. your vision restored, you glance around the familiar environment. the only room in your own home that you’d truly recognized.

“Very good girl. Take a moment to gather your bearings.”

you look around for a moment— take in the atmosphere. dim candles cast a warm, orange glow on the bed of silken sheets and on the man who sits in front of you upon them. “My love,” you utter, your eyes sparkling with curiosity as they flit upwards to catch his visage within them. he was as stunning as ever, with striking icy eyes and hair as soft and silver as the moon’s glow. “Why must I always hide myself?” it seemed almost disproportionate. if anything, it would be Griffith’s unearthly beauty worth concealing.

Griffith watches you with a stoic expression for a moment, his pout etching upwards into the ghost of a smirk that most would’ve missed. “You are mine, sweetling. As are the people of this kingdom. Every stone, every drop of rain, every blade of grass in this domain. But you are far more precious than any of those.” Griffith’s sapphire eyes seem to darken ever slightly, before he traces the shape of your lips, staring at them for a long moment. after a breath, they flicker back up and lock on to yours. “These eyes are priceless gems, finer than any that have ever been mined. And no man, woman, or child shall look upon them except for your king. They will never tear up, they will never glare. These eyes will only ever gaze up at me with desire and devotion. Your king. Your savior.”

#this is technically a dizzy drabble AKSKSKS #griffith x you #griffith imagine #griffith #griffith berserk #berserk #berserk x reader #berserk x you #berserk imagine

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manthatthingisafreak · 6 months ago

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Imagine you're a servant at the castle, and you notice that I, the prince, am rather clumsy but never get scolded for it. On the other hand every little mistake you make is closely scrutinized and punished harshly. It gets on your nerves more and more, until one day you're blamed for something I did, and of course, punished harshly for it. That night, stewing in your anger, you snap. You sneak your way up to my room, fully intent on forcing me to tell everyone it was actually my fault and not yours. You see me sleeping peacefully, and climb your way on top of me, shaking me to wake me up. I sit up, startled, and ask you what the hell you think you're doing, you will definitely be punished for thi- I am silenced by your hand over my mouth as you harshly tell me how unfair it is that I've never been punished, and how you're going to fix that.

At first you just intended to beat me up a bit, not near as harsh as the punishments you've had to endure but surely it would relieve some stress. But then your knee moves just right to lightly grind against my clothed pussy and I let out a shocked little whimper. You stop, but then smirk and do it some more, teasing me for whimpering underneath a servant like this. How pitiful I look trying desperately to get the friction back when you move your knee just a bit. You tell me if I beg for it, I can have your knee back, and beg I do, whining and whimpering under you, grinding helplessly against your knee. You teasingly ask me "Does his highness want to be touched?" As you ghost your fingers over my cunt, teasing my sensitive tdick through my underwear. You tug them down and make me beg for your fingers, make me admit that I'm a clumsly little slut of a prince, longing for the touch of a commoner. First one, then two fingers in me as you feel yourself get worked up as well. Then suddenly you take them out, I whine at you, you grip my hair harshly and guide my head to where you've unbuttoned your pants to reveal your hard cock/strap and whisper "Suck. It's the only lube you're gonna get your majesty so put that mouth to good use". Your hands grip my hair, thrusting yourself into my mouth recklessly, this is a punishment after all, it only really matters if you're enjoying it. After a bit you pull out and tell me to get on all fours, lining yourself up at the entrance to my boypussy, you thrust in all at once, not stop til you've bottomed out inside me. Eventually you flip me around to make me face you, pleased with the tears streaming down my face as I tell you how good you feel inside, begging you for more, to go harder. You tell me how unbecoming of a prince it is to say such things, don't I have any shame? What would the other nobles think if they saw me right now, all spread and eager to be fucked by a servant? Of course, because you're just sooooo nice, you'll keep how muxh of a royal slut the prince is a secret, in exchange I should let you do this to me whenever you feel like it. And I agree, to pleasure drunk to even fully comprehend what I've just said yes to.

The next day you do your work happily, and of course you have a few 'audiences' with me whenever your task gets frustrating and you need some stress relief. The day ends with my legs all shaky as you guide me up to my bedchambers, knowing full well you aren't just sending me diligently off to bed.

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kyonkyon69 · 1 year ago

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DRAMIONE FANFICS

[AO3/FANFICTION.NET/TUMBLR]

[BIG 3]

[1]Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love

[2]His Little Bird Series by TheWanderersWanderingDaughter

[3]MANACLED by Senlinyu

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

>TheWanderersWanderingDaughter AO3 fics

>Senlinyu AO3 fics

>On the Nature of Daylight by ikorous

>& Obey, Till Death Do Us Part by LongtimeLurker1111

>A Good Prisoner by greenflowerpot

>Edge by phantonym

>Dramione fics [GOOGLE DRIVE]

>Dramione fics [GOOGLE DRIVE] Part.2

>The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy Series by speechwriter

> Rights and Wrongs Series by LovesBitca8

>The Gloriana Set by ThebeMoon

>Clean Series by olivieblake

>The Fallout by everythursday

>Isolation by Bex-chan

>The Commoner's Guide to Bedding a Royal Series by olivieblake

>Silencio Series by AkashaTheKitty

>Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing... Rat? by Maya Mistful

>Confessions Series by SaintDionysus

>Enemies with Benefits by DrusillaMaxima

>Wait and Hope Series by mightbewriting

>Aurelian by BittyBlueEyes

>We Learned the Sea by floorcoaster

>How to Win Friends and Influence People by olivieblake

>Chronos Historia by In Dreams

>The Oblivious Ones by diamonddaydream

>Love in the Time of Death Eaters by gnrkrystle

>Presque Toujours Pur by ShayaLonnie

>The Brightest Black by: Enigmaticrose4

>What the Room Requires by Alydia Rackham

>The Boy in the Hammock by galfoy

>Heavy Lies the Crown by: floorcoaster

>It's All Uncharted by: redhead414

>A Second Look Series by RiverWriter

>Simply Irresistible Series by Bookworm1993

>The Dragon's Bride by rizzlewrites

>What the Room Requires by Alydia Rackham

>The Green Girl by Colubrina

>Architecture of Life Series by EscapingArtist

>Breath Mints / Battle Scars by Onyx_and_Elm

>Remain Nameless by HeyJude19

>Love and Other Historical Accidents by PacificRimbaud

>Apple Pies and Other Amends Universe by ToEatAPeach

>A Gentleman's Guide to Incandescence by olivieblake

>Lionheart by greenTeacup

>Scarlett Dragon by cleotheo

>Phoenix Potion Universe by FedonCiadale

>How Fair the Vine by thebrightcity

>Amateur Cartography by worksofstone

>Every Day, a Little Death by LovesBitca8

>Tea with Mrs. Granger by Guardian_Kysra

>Finding Granger Series by aCanadianMuggle

>The Politician's Wife by pir8fancier

>The Alkahest by shadukiam

>Love In A Time Of The Zombie Apocalypse Universe Series by rizzlewrites

>Crumple Series by MissiAmphetamine (Kaleidoscope)

>Osculum Annuum by MyDelphi

>These Selfish Vows by HeavenlyDew

>Some Bright and Last Thing by bionically

>Late Night Wandering by Snowblind12

>Never Odd or Even Series by ambpersand

>The Temptation of Miss Potter by Rumaan

>Tear The Moon by Maria81

>Sex and Occlumency by Graendoll

>Somewhere in Time Series by madrose_writing

>Wedding Bells by cleotheo

>The Phoenix Potion by FedonCiadale

>Green Light by SereneMusafir

>The Risk'verse Series by MissiAmphetamine (Kaleidoscope)

>Secrets and Masks by Emerald_Slytherin

>Bring Him to His Knees Series by Musyc

>Soft As It Began by rubber_soul02

>The Watergaw by ectoheart, smokybaltic

>The Token by mezy

>Truly Madly Deeply Fest [sequel--->

Truly Madly Deeply Spooky Flash Fest 2023]

>A Game of High Stakes by In_Dreams

>Hunted by Bex-chan

>The World of Wait and Hope Series by mightbewriting

>The Bracelet by AkashaTheKitty

>Lena Phoria FF fics

>Once Upon A Thyme by zensho

>Cruel And Beautiful World by Lena Phoria

>The Fires of Beltane by Arionrhod

>Don't Look Back by Onyx_and_Elm

>Here We Go Round The Prickly Pear Series by Hystaracal

>Measure Of A Man by inadaze22

ONESHOTS

>Draco Malfoy Runs a Marathon by PurpleSugarQuills

#yandere draco malfoy #draco malfoy #dramione #hermione x draco #draco x hermione #dramione fanfic #dramione fanfiction #harry potter #hermione granger #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #dramione fanart #harry potter fics #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #yandere boy #romance

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fizzyxcustard · 2 years ago

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One Night.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, sexual references, angst, heartbreak, insecurity.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "You spend the night with Thorin, and then out of insecurity, you leave him." Requested by @lathalea. Timeframe of post-BOTFA requested by @sotwk

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thorin was lay beside you, his breathing slow. You watched his chest rise and fall. His dark eyelashes fluttered and his eyes moved beneath their lids. He had fallen asleep not long after your final round of love making.

You sighed. He was so beautiful, and didn’t even know it.

The night had become full of tension, which had followed his coronation celebration. Of course you attended, being a close friend of the new king. For many months and you had travelled alongside him, helping and fighting for him to re-take the mountain kingdom of Erebor. Thorin had taken you aside, complimenting you on your attire for the celebration, his blue eyes alight for you. Your first kiss had been outside the main hall, in a cold, empty hallway. Everything else that had followed was back in his bed chamber. The two of you had snuck away, hand in hand, still stealing secret kisses along the hallways.

Never before had you ever been touched in such a way as how Thorin touched you. His hot skin sent intense vibrations through you. His gaze made your heart thunder, and pulsate in other parts of your body, acknowledging just how aroused you were. His voice made sighs slip off your tongue so effortlessly.

You kept your eyes on him as he slept, recollecting the beautiful memories of him opening his heart, soul and body to you. When he had first slipped inside you, he had been over you, his large hands holding your legs open. You had welcomed him so freely in those moments. However, in your second round of pleasure seeking, you had climbed on top of him. He was laid out beneath you, vulnerable, offering it all. Those hands had been clamped on your hips, guiding your movement as the two of you ascended higher towards that wonderful, earth shattering climax. The third and final time, Thorin had been behind you. His lips remained on your neck and shoulder, showing you that even when he could not see your face, he still adored you and admired your beauty.

This was all wrong. Thorin was the most amazing man you had ever met. And you were just mediocre. Nothing special or of substantial value. You looked upon his sleeping form, studying his slim lips which peeped from beneath his moustache. His beard was neatly trimmed, despite him now growing it longer after reclaiming Erebor. That was a promise he had made many years ago. Once the mountain was re-claimed and he would grow his beard back long, as was custom with the Longbeard Dwarves.

Slowly, and you slipped out of bed. There was an ache in your chest. You loved Thorin so much more than you could ever express, but you were not worthy of his hand. A royal Dwarf deserved someone of standing and position, not a commoner like yourself.

Tears fell down your cheeks, reminding you of the man you were originally pledged to many years ago. He had told you he loved you, showered you with gifts, but made it known through his behaviour that you meant very little to him. His actions did not speak louder than his words. And, of course, his attention then swept elsewhere. Thorin would no doubt do the same. Such a beautiful soul would never cherish you and mean it! If this man from your past could not love you, then surely Thorin couldn’t either.

But you had never been touched, kissed and made love to in such a way as that! Every movement made you quake beneath Thorin’s touch, and his whispers of adoration made you shiver. Maybe he just knew how to please women and had rehearsed the words many times.

You re-dressed and slipped out of the chamber, giving Thorin one last glance. The ache hit you hard once again and you placed your hand on your mouth, stifling the uncontrollable sobs.

The halls were quiet and dark, with only the faint light of torchlight guiding your way. And by the time you made it back to your room, you grabbed a quill, ink and parchment. Your hand shook as you tried to write, which meant that your normally laced handwriting became more squiggled. A tear fell onto the parchment, splashing, and caused a swirl of black ink to form under your signature.

***

Thorin woke, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. He looked up at the ceiling of the room and sighed, recollecting the evening before. And as soon as he saw your face in his mind’s eye, he turned to see you had disappeared. He called your name into the gloom.

A dread hit him and his stomach twisted into a hard knot. Something was wrong.

Why would you disappear like this? Even though you could have just slipped back to your own bed chamber, Thorin felt something in the depth of his very being that told him that he would not find you there.

Thorin pulled on a robe, tying it at his waist, and made his way to your room, his mind full of questions. He didn’t even knock as he got to your door and let himself in, finding the room empty. A lump swelled in his throat. He approached your desk. A candle had been lit, and there under the flickering light, was a piece of parchment.

My dearest Thorin,

I cannot remain here. I do not belong. I will never be enough for you, my love. Go and find happiness. May Mahal bless you.

The letter was simple.

Thorin crumpled the letter in his hands, feeling a whole array of emotion wash over him. Terror and frustration seemed to form the knot in his stomach, which was now gaining momentum. Only the night before and Thorin had been on the verge of offering everything to you, a life together. That was all Thorin wanted. You, in every way. He thought that you had been willing to give yourself to him. You had even told him you loved him, shivered at his touch, become undone beneath him. The two of you had panted, sweat, groaned against each other. How could he just let all of that go?

He would not let you go.

He could not.

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @knittastically @meganlpie @luna-xial @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @rachel1959 @mrsdurin @quiall321 @missihart23 @lemond57 @evenstaredits @catthefearless @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @glassgulls @sazzlep @aliasauthor @solairewisteria @littlebird-99 @court-jobi @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @for-fuck-sake-im-alive

Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @braidedheart @emmyspov @dumbassunderthemountain

Middle-earth tag list: @mismaeve @sotwk @emmyspov @valkyrie-of-the-light

The Hobbit tag list: @flowerniche

#richard armitage #thorin oakenshield #Thorin #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x Fem!Reader #Thorin x You #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Fic #Thorin Oakenshield Fic #The Hobbit Fic

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ashleyfableblack · 12 days ago

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Twilight nuzzled back against her wife's chitinous body. Chrysalis chuckled as she pulled the blankets over them and squeezed her tightly. The alicorn queen nickered a sing-song trilling in the comfort of her embrace. She leaned back to give her fanged smile a soft kiss.

Twilight broke into a giggle. "You're still wearing the hat?"

"Well…" Chrysalis purred in a deep, honeyed tone, trailing a hoof along her wife's shoulder. "I'm still in a very giving mood, you see."

The couple shared a mischievous smile and a chorus of lascivious, breathy chuckling as they kissed again. "Oh, are you now?"

Chrysalis threaded her chitinous hoof through the spaghetti-strap of Twilight's festive red nightie. Her Emerald snake-slit eyes narrowed to a predatory, hungry low-lidded simmer. "Besides, you're still in this delightful little number. It only seems fitting."

They shared another kiss causing Twilight's crest of chest fluff to poof out from the fluffy trim of her top. With that, Twilight began to ooch and nuzzle, rolling about in her wife's hooves. The fabric of her bedclothes hissed almost musically as she cuddled. Underneath the heavy winter blankets she used her wings like long-fingered hands to guide Chryssi's hips and long limbs, finding her way to her favorite comfy position, draped in the armored creche of Chrysalis's much larger form.

The Changeling Queen-mother's snakelike tongue flicked playfully in Twilight's ear, as much playful flirting as tasting the rich, mature flavor of her wife's love in the air. Looking over the much smaller mare, she spied the trio of letters on the bedsheets, Hearthswarming cards and their colorful envelopes. Twilight had been reading over them when she had come to bed.

The first was embossed with the golden gemstone seal of their neighbor to the North, The Crystal Province. A photo of the royal family peeked out from the paper. In the glossy image Princess Cadance, her husband, Shining Armor and their royal daughter, Flurry Heart beamed. It was a scene of holiday joy as they lit a large Unity Beacon at the center of a gathered crowd. Though she didn't much care for either of her annoying in-laws, Chrysalis made a minor note of pride in their royal niece's development. She was still but a child but Chrysalis knew she would be party to great things, someday.

She snorted, clearing her senses of the unpleasant taste of Cadance and her Husband before looking to the two other cards.

They were the simple card-stock of much more common Hearthswarming greetings from ponies living much less lavish lifestyles, Twilight's parents. With a flick of her tongue she tasted the awkward mix of emotions wafting from each one. Having only separated within the last year the couple were still feeling their way around how to relate to their immortal queen daughter in their new lives as free and lone beings. The heady mix of parental love and the blend of guilt and joy found in their new freedom scented the paper like perfume and kerosene.

Mortal beings and their complicating issues.

Chrysalis nuzzled against Twilight, giving her ear a playful nipping. "Your parents are faring well, beloved…?"

"Well, enough…" With a soft shimmer of magenta light from her horn Twilight lifted a letter from one of the envelopes. "Dad's moved into a new apartment next to the observatory in Southeast New Canterlot."

"Staying close to his work?"

Twilight chuckled. "Well, that and his new… much younger, marefriend, named… Chloe… something…" She scanned her eyes along the page. "Chloe Acres."

Chrysalis chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

Twilight returned her wife's smirk. "Yeah. Some gal from Gryphonia he met locally. She's an aspiring amateur writer, stargazer and yes…" she huffed with a knowing grin "…a burlesque performer." They shared a laugh. "She sounds… eh…. nice. At least he's happy, I guess."

Twilight lifted the second card in the glow of her magic. "Mom seems to be settling into her new place in Manehatten. Hasn't found steady work yet but she's not really looking for any either. Seems she's mostly just enjoying taking several new classes downtown… modern dance, Neighponese calligraphy…"

Twilight lay in silence for some time. Chrysalis could sense the unease, questions in the air, circling about like the stars of stray magic trailing from her wife's mane and tail.

"I'm sorry, beloved. But you know, it's to be expected with mortal beings." She shrugged, dismissively. "They get bored, tired, ennui sets in. A few decades of their short existence with the same being and they're ready to move on to greener pastures."

Twilight rolled about to face her wife. As dismissive as it sounded, in her own way she knew Chrysalis was trying to be comforting. Her perspective as an ancient immortal being was something Twilight had come to terms with. It was an aspect of her she would eventually one day share. Though she was the de facto leader of the Council of Friendship and a Queen of New Equestria, one day she too would hold that same sense of care for others yet, from a certain unavoidable distance.

"I know. It's still just a little sad to see them apart like this." She tapped a hoof against Chrysalis's barrel. "But, they're not just MY parents. They're their own creatures and it would be horribly selfish of me to expect them to be the creatures I would want them to be. I need to let them be who they need to be to be happy."

She ran her purple hoof down the ebony chitin and clicked it along the opaque blue ridges of her wasp-like waist. "That's never going to be us, though, is it?"

"Never."

A pitted hoof lifted Twilight's chin to bring their eyes together. Staring intently, she held her pony bride, gently stroking the small of her back and the curves of her flanks. Her voice was loving, yet had a firmness in it, a certainty. She wasn't speaking to be reassuring as much as she was simply stating a known fact.

"In eons unspoken from now, I will still hold you just as tightly." The dark queen flexed her hooves, pulling their bodies together until they touched. "I will kiss you twice as deeply…" She nuzzled her chitinous ebony cheek into the navy waves of Twilight's mane. "And I will only yearn for you even more." She kissed Twilight's horn and hugged her tenderly into her barrel. "I will crave only you, long, long after Sun-butt and her flaming skylight have gone supernova and devoured this little pebble and her thirsty horndog sister's dayglow nightlight."

Twilight snickered, giving Chrysalis's rump a playful swat of her hoof. 'You butt…"

She caressed her partner with her wings, stroking the length of her shell, cooing and nesting into the comfort of her larger form.

"Happy Hearthswarming, honeybug, now and forever."

Chrysalis kissed the crown of her wife's lustrous navy mane. "Now and forever, my love." A gust of her emerald magic flame drew the curtains of their marriage bed shut about them, sealing them in their privacy. "Until the end of time."

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olivieblake · 1 year ago

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hello I’ve been amping up to reading One for My Enemy and the Atlas Paradox (after the required reread of the Atlas Six) by pregaming all of your dramione fanfiction. and honestly having finally read Clean and MARKED for the first time, and like knowing Theo and Hermione as Masters of Death, I have added (you guessed it) Masters of Death to my tbr…. ANYWAY i am writing this email to let you know there is a Bad Boy Carolina Herrera eau de toilette ad I saw last night that is very Bad Lads coded like it’s got flashbacks to them as children, motorcycles, the whole nine. here is the link, hope it works lol, enjoy and thank you for your time: https://youtu.be/n-NTg5aNims?si=4MnVF80iKit04Fu4

omg this is totally the bad lads, love that!! aw, I miss writing them. wait, should I write... people who actually like each other??????? sounds fake tbh but things to consider

I hope you enjoy your pregame!! ahh. I can't help but shudder at the very thought of what might be going on with my early work (don't tell me) but I love the idea of people time-traveling with me. thanks so much for reading!

#the commoner's guide to bedding a royal

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greenerteacups · 8 months ago

Note

I wonder if you've read " The Commoner's Guide to Bedding a Royal " by olivieblake . It's a British royal family au of dramione . Mainly because your Theo and Daphne remind me SO MUCH of them there. There's no actual similarity plot wise , it's just .... Vibes I guess ? Anyways it's one of my favourite written relationships of all time and yours is becoming one too even if y'know they're not actually ending up together , it's just the way they exist in juxtaposition of each other ?

This is not a comment I get too often, so thank you deeply! I have a great time writing Daphne and Theo, despite the fact that they're probably one of the more tragic dynamics (as yet) in their cohort. It's a really young age to be acquainted with the sting of unfulfilled possibility.

#thank you my love!#lionheart spoilers #greenteacup asks

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akatsukicross · 2 years ago

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Suddenly, I Became A God || Prologue

Summary:

You're the twin of Athanasia de Alger Obelia. Instead of being born with a healthy body, you were born sick and frail. The one day you're able to at least go outside and spend time with your sister... Athanasia goes into a mana shock. Due to how powerful and the properties of her mana, you ended up passing out from the sheer pressure.

So, when you wake up in a bed of unknown origins with people saying that you were their God. Rightfully, you are confused and afraid of the current situation, and income hacking gold blood from your mouth.

Thus shenanigans and misunderstanding happen!

Each route is different but have similar experiences.

Choose wisely, reader.

Tag list: @hamdehlesmis, @d3sperate-enuf, @mizu-san, @god-is-disappointed, @mirrorimegi, @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethisnamethis, @jennyzyn, @xiaosprettygf, @runassimp, @probablynoposts, @jcrml

If you want to be tagged in the next part of the story please comment.

— ❝ Genius ❞ — the characteristic of exceptional insight in performances of some art of endeavor that surpasses beliefs. It creates new benchmarks for the future and establishes better operations, or remains outside the competences of contenders.

The most beloved princess, the golden child of the mightiest of Emperors, the grandeur of the imperial blood, and the forthcoming of the Obelian Empire. Your genius twin sister, Athanasia de Alger Obelia, was loved by the common and noble folks with just a radiant smile. Her poise was elegant and lovely, there are no bound of her eminence.

Truthfully, you continuously ponder on how can someone, so flawless, be your twin?

The quiet stillness of the wanning genesis bled through the settings, small rays of light of dawn peer from the darkness, chirps of bird’s resonate, those asleep were now rouse. As the bells of the Obelian Empire chimes for the common folk finish their early labor. Ballads of the heavens and prayers of the Church beg for their God bless them on this wonderous day.

Today marks the beginning of the founding of Obelian, and soon the official festive will begin with the God’s blessing the imperial bloodline.

“Your Royal Highness, your bath is ready, let us help you undress.” A couple of servants guided you towards the lavatory. The nightrobe you wore was places elsewhere as you submerged in the petaled waters.

You hear shuffling along the marble flooring, a couple of servants began to do their duties, gently raising your arms and legs to scrub clean of any grime. They washed your hair with the highest of quality of soaps that the greatest Emperor could buy and the common envy.

The smell of selected roses from your personal garden was pleasant. You ignore their idle chats that held no consequential themes. After a while, a thin bathrobe clothed your naked bod that’s been wiped clean of impurities. Then they bring out a bowl filled with water, blessed by the Gods and their apostles; wringing a towel, a servant began to cleanse the impure magic from out of your precious bod.

“Your Royal Highness, Princess Athanasia and the Emperor have bestowed you these...” A maid smiles, holding a few you gave the jewelries a tiny glimpse, beautiful trinkets encased with delicate gold-leaves. From a glance, you could tell that these crystals were from a conquered country. The luminous shades were far different than the usual season.

For some reason, a certain ornament had caught your eye. It took a while for the servants to doll you up, knowing the situation you’ve faced. It was alright though, you knew that.

“(Y/N)!” You heard your name being called out from your genius twin. Athanasia de Alger Obelia, the heiress, and most beloved daughter of the Obelian Empire and beyond; the definition of being the most, lovely princess in this entire world. She wore a gown that matched with a blue-ribbon, in the center, there’s a lovely sapphire cut gem.

She hugs you, disregarding noble etiquette with such excitement. Her loveliness had no bounds with her gentleness.

“Ah... jamae, you’re here early.” You spoke softly, patting her back in the hug. You realized that design of floral that accompanied the dress. It was one of the few dresses you both had matching attires as twins.

“I’m glad that you’ll be able to attend this tea party with me even if it’s just for introductions.” Athanasia exhales, her cerulean-blue eyes soften at the trinket of your choice.

Her hand hovering over your own. “You know, the family painting will be finished soon... so let’s look at it together after the Founding Festival and papa’s birthday.”

“Jamae, I have to get ready.” You scratch your cheek sheepishly as you’re still in a robe. “I’ll be there in a bit, so don’t worry too much.” You watch your genius sister wave her good-byes as the doors closed once more.

It’ll take a while to get ready but the weather was ideal and perfect for outdoor tea parties. Oh, you see the other gathering nobles that your dearest sister invited personally.

It seems like the God’s decided to have mercy on you. For now.

“It marks the day of the founding of the Obelian Empire.” The mages and priests sigh in relief at the stone sculpture of the beloved God. Ancient scriptures were written around that bled into the purified waters that were sanctified by the Pope.

“The sun and little stars of the Obelian Empire will soon arrive in advanced this afternoon for tomorrows festive, we must finish ours before everything else.”

They all are dressed in the finest satins, and took a few steps forward. Their face covered and body covered in modesty, everyone gapes at the fading moon.

“We will meet again, your Grace.” It was familiar sight to see, and the cordiality that shrouded the kindred souls of the people around the sculpture.

The beautiful shawls that were crafted around the God showed their perfect stature.

Truly, a God among mortals to have such a benevolent smile even when it was just grit.

Which route will you choose?

Male, Female, Gender-Neutral

#genshin #wmmap fanfic #suddenly i became a princess #wmmap athanasia #sagau brainrot #genshin sagau #wmmap au #athanasia de alger obelia #claude de alger obelia #sagau x reader #sagau venti #genshin impact #crossover #sagau #self aware au

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ageofmarie · 24 days ago

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Royalty!Reader x Commoner!Josh (Part 2)

Hello again! I wanted to say thank you for the interactions and advice provided from my first ever post! It means so much to me and I hope that you will continue to enjoy my story. (If the story is too slow burning, let me know and I will happily adjust the pace)

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I block out the rest of my father’s words as he explains the rule of the challenge. As he explains that the winner is the last man standing, I watch the faces of the competitors falter slightly before their stoic and determined faces return. But while the other suitors smile at themselves with pride, the fifth suitor smiles at me. I find myself melting into him once again but have to convince myself that he won’t last to the end and to not get my hopes up.

“We shall house our warriors for the night and begin the trials tomorrow. The loser of each trial will be eliminated by royal decree until the final suitor remains,” my father’s voice rang out, his words sending a chill down my spine. I watched as the five suitors were escorted out of the room, each of them casting one last look in my direction before disappearing from view.

As the room emptied and the festivities began to wind down, I felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of my stomach. The weight of their impending dooms hung heavy over me, the gravity of it all threatening to crush me beneath its cruel demands. But amidst the fear and uncertainty, the remnants of the fifth suitor's smile remained clear in my mind, causing a smile to break onto my face. I knew it was foolish to hold on to hope, to allow myself to be swayed by a stranger’s gaze and smile. But there was something about him, something that felt like a lifeline in the midst of this suffocating situation.

As I made my way back to my chambers, the image of the fifth suitor lingered in my mind, his presence like a beacon guiding me through the darkness of uncertainty.

That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, sleep eluded me. The weight of dreams never crushed me as I found myself unable to fall asleep. The upcoming trials pressed down on me, each one a step closer to an inevitable conclusion. The thought of one suitor being eliminated after another was disheartening, a reminder of the cruel game my father had set in motion.

But amidst the turmoil of my thoughts, there was a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished. The memory of the fifth suitor’s smile danced before my eyes, filling me with a warmth that chased away the chill of the darkness that was swallowing me whole. After hours of tossing and turning, I eventually shove my covers off and sneak out of my room. I lightly skimper through the royal hall and push my way through the grand doors to my place of fortitude; the garden. The moonlight bathed the garden in a luminescent glow, casting shadows that danced across the flowers and bushes. I made my way through the quiet pathways, the soft rustle of leaves beneath my feet the only sound disturbing the tranquil night. As I rounded a corner, I spotted a figure standing by the fountain, his silhouette outlined against the shimmering water.

It was him. The fifth suitor.

He turned as he heard my approach, a small smile quirking his lips as he took in my presence, and my heart melted. His hazel eyes held a warmth that drew me in, like a moth to a flame. For a moment, we just stood there, wordlessly gazing at each other under the silver light of the moon.

"Y-your royal highness," he finally spoke, his voice soft and soothing like a gentle breeze. "I apologize for wandering on castle grounds. I just- I found that I was having trouble sleeping."

I nodded in understanding, feeling a surge of compassion for this man who stood before me, vulnerable and beautiful as the moon hit the reflection of the water, perfectly outlining his best features. His presence in the garden felt like a twist of fate, a moment of solace in the midst of chaos. I found myself drawn to him, my heart beating erratically in my chest as if trying to tell me something I wasn't ready to acknowledge.

“It’s okay, I’m glad to know I’m in good company.” I offer him a warm smile and I see him slightly ease up as his grin widens. As a silence consumes us, he hesitantly but firmly moves toward me, kneeling in front of me as he grasps my hand in his.

“Josh Kiszka, your majesty. It’s truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he smiles as he plants a gentle kiss onto my hand before standing up.

His gesture caught me off guard, the touch of his lips on my hand sending a shiver down my spine. I watched him rise to his full height, his hazel eyes never leaving mine. In the silence that followed, the weight of the world seemed to lift off my shoulders, replaced by a sense of calm that only he could bring.

"Josh," I repeated his name softly, savoring the sound on my lips like a secret shared between us. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

He smiled, a genuine expression that reached his eyes, filled with a warmth that was both comforting and exhilarating. "I must admit, I never expected to find solace in the company of royalty under the moonlight."

As his words hung in the air, a coy smile tugged at my lips. "And I never expected to find solace in the company of a commoner under the moonlight," I replied, our gazes locked in a dance that spoke volumes beyond what words could convey.

Josh's hazel eyes sparkled with a mixture of surprise and delight at my response as a light laugh escaped his lips. “I’m not just any commoner, your highness. I’m a bard.”

I meet his laugh with my own as he moves closer to me. “A bard, huh? You’ll have to sing me a song sometime.” He smiles once again, the gap in his teeth more prominent as the moonlight drowns him.

“There’s not a single song I could sing that could ever encapsulate the brilliance you radiate, but I will do my best to appease you, your highness.” My face heats up at his gesture and I laugh, doing anything to prevent a silence from enveloping us. After a few moments of silence and admiration, his hand reached out tentatively, perhaps seeking reassurance that this moment was not a mere dream. I extended my own hand, mirroring his movement until our fingertips brushed ever so lightly, sending an electric current through us both.

#greta van fic #greta van fluff #josh kiszka #greta van fleet #royalty au #garde #garden #x reader #your majesty #gender neutral reader

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kiryoutann · 2 years ago

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Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

I appreciate the likes, replies, and reblogs! Thank you so much. If you like what I do, you can consider donating to my Kofi. Once again, thanks so much!

Grief is so hard to hide, isn't it?

Childe despised it. He despised how the illumination along the corridor's walls seemed to dim as he was moving through it. He despised how the people gathered outside his father's door bowed to him before lowering their heads once more with grave expressions.

Childe despised that he had to go through something like this again.

When the big door was opened, Tonia and Teucer's sobbing from next to the bed were the first thing that caught his ear. It was soft but, had the ability to cut his long-dead heart. On the other side of the room, you are standing next to his mother, stroking her shoulder and attempting to sooth her.

Childe despised grief since it reminded him of his mother's expression whenever he spoke of Anton.

“Ajax,”

His mother called out in between her sobs. His blue eyes were fixed on her, watching her struggled to gather the last of her energy to approach him and give him a weak hug. Why was she hugging him?

"Your father.." A sob. "He... he's gone."

Snezhnaya's king, King Alexander II, is gone. He's dead, and the only thing left to give the dead was a funeral. The royal family held it the next day, sending their nation into mourning and leaving both the royals and the people dressed in black.

However, not a single tear fell from Childe.

All he did was stand next to you while watching the funeral process being carried out. Beneath the memorial chapel, blue eyes follow the outline of the casket where his father lies.

Again, not a single tear fell from Childe.

“Ajax?”

It wasn't until you gently tugged on Childe's sleeve that he realized he was buried in his own thoughts. When he meets your eyes he can't help but wonder what you think of him now you see his face without the tear stains on his cheeks. He should be grieving, which means he should be crying, right?

Meanwhile, from your eyes, you notice that his blue eyes look even emptier than before.

You took a breath before saying, "We'll be returning to the palace soon."

“..Oh.” He gave you a delayed response.

But, you make no complaint about it. You gave him a quick peek through your black birdcage veil before hooking your hand on his, gently pulling to guide him to leave the building.

Childe detested grief because he found it weird.

The two of you stopped when a group of aristocrats came towards you both. One of them is Duke Maxim, whom you remember from having tea with you just before the incident. They bowed respectfully before rising to their feet.

“Your Highnesses.” Maxim greeted, turning completely to Childe then. "To encounter you again in such a setting... how unfortunate."

There is something about his voice that you don't like, even if you are unsure of what it is. Childe next to you is still in silence, either he doesn't know what to say or he is deaf to what is being spoken since he has been lost in his own thoughts during the entire funeral.

You chose to be the one who opened your mouth, “Duke Maxim, is there something you want to say?” you ask.

Maxim's face is hardly covering his real expression right now. Perhaps it's because of your tone, or perhaps he regards you as someone who doesn't deserve to hear what he has to say. Yet, he had little choice because Childe stood there with no response.

"I simply wanted to remind you that the meeting discussing the succession should be held today."

Now you know exactly what it is about his presence here that you dislike. Maxim did show respect for the deceased by wearing black like other nobles attending funerals, however, he lacked the modicum of common sense that told him that for someone to bring up the subject of inheriting the throne when the late king's coffin had just been closed was inappropriate.

Your jaw stiffens from your attempts not to curse him then and there. "Excuse my impoliteness but, can you show a little self-awareness? We just laid to rest the late King.” You didn't hide the venom dripping in your voice.

“Forgive my rudeness, but it appears Your Highness is unaware of the importance of a new king for Snezhnaya.” One of them opened their mouth. You fixed your sharp eyes on the arrogant looking man in military uniform.

It's so miraculous you haven't flung one of your high heels in their face.

"Would holding the conference on the day of the burial change anything?"

The rhetorical question comes from you, answered by none. You still try not to raise your intonation and cause a scene but, it feels impossible when they appear in front of you with their foolishness.

Your hands wrap around Childe's arms tighter than before, protective in case they intend to snatch him away from you (though you know that's unlikely). “Give my husband some time. If you're intelligent and empathetic in the slightest, you'll know you have to give him at least a week to process everything." you demand.

Neither of them dared to open their mouths after that. Wise decision, you think, considering your patience is growing thin.

One of them broke the silence with a faked cough. "Ahem, We will be back tomorrow morning then, Your Highness."

Both you and Childe gave no response to him, he used the opportunity to continue, "For the discussion regarding the succession and also the investigation of Prince Shiva."

Instantly, your eyes open wide to find the man trying to hold back his grin from coming out. He knew very well what he had said. The confusion and anger on your face is too obvious for them not to notice, yet they see no threat in it.

"Why on earth would you do that?" You grind your teeth.

"Surely that is obvious. All of this took place during the late king's meeting with him. It is only natural for us to suspect him.”

“But, Shiva couldn't have done such a—!“ You stopped when realization hit you.

Isn't this exactly what you thought the day before? Didn't you also suspect Shiva? Something whispering to you is not a coincidence for the King to show the exact symptoms of poisoning as you did before his death.

If you, his own sister, are unsure that your brother is completely clean, what about others?

On the other hand, your words that you cut yourself off put those bunch of nobles under the impression you too had realized it. Now, they have no intention of covering up their grin, they look at you with a look as if they have won something.

"What's wrong, Princess? Have you nothing to say?”

Hold it, (Y/N), you tell yourself as you take a deep breath to quiet the raging emotions inside of you. A second later, the burning fire that was your anger miraculously disappeared as if someone had splashed water on it. Rational thought comes back to you, it whispers so you don't give them what they want.

"No," you respond. "It was very understandable. So, you are free to do as much investigation as you like on my brother." But, if Shiva is proven to be innocent, you will be the first person I feed to wolves, you want to add but, didn't.

When you turned to look at Childe, he still had the same straight face and blank stare. Now you feel guilty having to argue with these people in front of him. A smile you forced on your face for them.

"Please excuse us." You softly motioned your husband to walk past the nobles.

Childe remained silent throughout the carriage trip to the palace. He only glances up when you put your hand on his to give him a gentle squeeze; for the rest, those blue eyes find his shoes to be the most interesting to look at. Because of that, you assumed he would remain that way for quite sometime. That is until you walk him into his chamber.

“Please rest, Your Highness.”

That's what you said after Childe sat down on the couch near his bed. Just as you were about to bow to excuse yourself to give him some alone time, he opened his mouth unexpectedly.

"Aren't I a horrible person?"

The moment it came out of him, you couldn't help but notice the emptiness in his voice. You straighten your posture again as you gaze at his attempts to give a thin, bitter smile. It was so terrifying how he looked no more alive than a wolf on the verge of death.

Childe let out a laugh that shook his shoulders but, never touched his eyes.

“My father died but, I didn't shed any tears. Am I not a cruel son?” He isn't waiting for your response because he knows, he is the worst person in the world.

Childe despised grief because he didn't know what to feel about it.

With a room this big, your cursing should have echoed. However, what his hearing now captures is your footsteps getting closer. Stop, he thought. How can you be so brave to approach someone so cruel that he doesn't cry over his father who died the slowest and most painful death possible?

"I'm not even grieving." He let out a scoff. "Perhaps they were right when they said I didn't have a passion for anything but bloodshed. Perhaps they were right about me being heartless—”

It was the warmth he felt when you closed him in your arms and drew him into your embrace. Those blue eyes widened. You bring him further to rest his head on your chest. At this point, you don't care if he can hear your heartbeat; the fact that you're this close proves that you don't see him the way he sees himself.

Soft, ginger strands between your fingers as you stroke his head. “There is no right or wrong way to grieve.” You spoke softly. "Everyone handles it differently, therefore no one has the right to judge you, including yourself.”

Childe believes he really does not deserve you. This is a luxury that no amount of money in the world can purchase. In your arms, he unfolds, not a single part of his cold, dead heart is left untouched by your comfortable glow. He never wanted anything so much than to drown in everything about you. His secret becomes your truth, you are the air he would kill to breathe.

As if he'd spent his entire life practicing for it, his hands found your waist and hugged you tightly.

Inside his head, he wondered while performing autopsies on past memories. If only someone treated him like this every time he asked about Anton in the past, would he have a better understanding of grief? If only people didn't force him to bury everything about him, would he not mistake the emptiness in his chest for the absence of a heart?

Childe nuzzles up to your chest. "Don't go.” He spoke quietly. “Stay with me."

You've experienced a lot of déjà vu during the last several days. This time, you're reminded again with the memory of when Childe came to you drunk and said exactly the same thing. You don't know what to feel now you realize there's no alcohol involved in this one.

Nonetheless, through your questions about the meaning of his words, you made your choice.

You stayed.

It was late at night when Laura arrived at the address you gave her. She pushed back her hood, sweeping her dark eyes across the exterior of the luxurious mansion where the Crown Prince of Liyue stayed whenever he visited Snezhnaya. Unlike other nobles, Shiva always preferred to reside in the home he purchased over the Emerald palace.

Even though the eyes of the guard guarding the gate were sharp, Laura tried to muster up the courage to approach them.

“State your business.” The voice was firm and fast, leaving no gaps for her to make excuses.

In an effort to get the bravery to speak, Laura swallowed. "I-I have a letter from Euryphaessa to His Highness Prince Shiva." She's hoping the guard would let her in using the alias you instructed her to use.

It appears to work. The expression on the two guards' faces changed to one of curiosity before one of them ran through the gate to announce the arrival of this guest.

Soon after, he came back and led Laura into the building. After passing through a large door, she stopped in a room with a luxurious spiral staircase that was his main focus.

"Why did she send a letter all of a sudden?"

Laura almost jumped out of her skin when she heard his baritone voice. When she turned around, Shiva was already standing some distance away from her in his bathrobe. His damp hair dripped with water drops that touched his skin, creating the illusion that it glittered in the light of the chandelier. The Liyue imperial family was undoubtedly gifted with attractive appearances.

“A-ah.. that..”

Instantly, she lost her ability to form words under those piercing gazes. In order to spare her life, Laura hastily handed the letter into his hands. She watched as he tore open the unwaxed envelope and pulled out the paper inside.

Shiva raised one eyebrow before starting to read.

Brother,

You're returning to Liyue, right? On this sad day, I cannot leave my husband who is still in mourning. Under any other circumstances, I would definitely escort you to the harbor instead of sending a letter.

Are you alright? Remembering what happened makes me tremble. Even now, I become frightened every time someone brings me a cup of tea.

Shiva paused for a moment. You're afraid? It felt strange and worrying at one time. Nonetheless, he pushed the thought aside and continued reading to the third paragraph.

Upon your arrival in Liyue, please take care of your health. Now that you've matured, I hope you'll be wiser. Do you still often train with General Alatus? Endure all your difficulties, I believe it will bring positive consequences. Rest is always necessary; avoid staying up too late.

“No wonder she rarely writes letters. She's really bad with words.” he commented.

Someone told me that your expression is scary. Usually, I wouldn't have given this any thought, but, for some reason, I am now. Sometimes, I wish you could smile more. People will easily like you if you do. It would be great if my brother had more reliable acquaintances. Can you do that? I believe you can. Other than that, I don't think I have anything else to be concerned about. Now that I've said it, I hope you'll heed my wise counsel.

After writing this, I'm reminded of the moments I spent with you. Do you remember what we used to do when we were kids? Do you recall how we almost ruined all of Dad's important letters because we were too intrigued about the contents?

After reading the fifth paragraph, Shiva furrowed his brows as his mind searched for his past memories. The day you and him almost ruined the Emperor's important papers..

Something clicked in the back of his head.

Reading letters to improve your skill to decipher their hidden messages is a passion shared by the two of you. But, why are you suddenly bringing up that?

As he read the next one, Shiva's presumption was proven to be correct.

The contents of this letter I wrote are important, so please ensure that you understand my worries.

Your dear sister, (Y/N).

Shiva swept his eyes over the letter, re-reading it looking for the 'content' of the letter that worried you. His brain thinks what kind of secret code you put in it. For him to understand what you actually want to say, how should he read this letter?

Ancient letter code? No, you won't use it since it's possible that he has forgotten how to crack it. If you wanted to send a letter while trying to disguise its true message, you would choose the simple way yet, still ensuring it's not entirely obvious that someone other than Shiva can understand it.

Shiva stopped thinking. What if..

Laura wondered what brought his eyes back to the top of the letter. As she recalls, you only gave her one sheet, however, Shiva acted as if he was trying to memorize every word in it.

What was really in that letter? she thought.

Meanwhile, Shiva was trying to test his assumptions. From the start of your letter until the end, he carefully reads the first letter of every sentence. His breath caught as it made a complete one after reaching the fourth paraghraph.

Y O U. A R E. U N D E R. S U S P I C I O N.

Those four words were enough to tell him everything he needed to know.

There was a long tense silence for Laura, it felt like the calm before the storm. The next thing that happened, Shiva's shoulders shook from the silent laughter that escalated and echoed in the room. He pushed a strand of hair that tickled his forehead while reading the letter for the umpteenth time.

"Ha ha ha! Goodness, she really is something!”

Shiva crumpled the letter until it was shapeless. He landed his eyes on Laura with a big smile that sent chills down her body.

“You!” He pointed at her. “Tell the Princess that I understand her worries.”

There was a dangerous stir in his irises as he unclenched his fist and let the paper fall onto the marble floor. When Laura was about to nod in understanding, Shiva opened his mouth again.

"And one more thing,"

The most arrogant smile graced his handsome face.

"Tell her, that no one can touch me."

Though she didn't fully understand what he meant, Laura nodded quickly before bowing to take her leave. She had never been so eager to leave a room this quickly. Her wobbly feet almost knocked her over as she was in such a hurry to reach the door to give you his message.

"He said that?"

You asked Laura after hearing what Shiva told her to tell you. You see her giving you a nod through the mirror.

Evidently, sending him a letter in secret code was the perfect move. To be completely honest, when you first started writing it, you weren't sure if Shiva would get the sense of what you were saying. Even though Laura is now obliged to stand by your side, it is still possible that she will read your letter and use it as a chance to threaten you back if you write it too obviously. One could never be too careful.

You also avoided meeting him so that Snezhnaya's nobles didn't think you were working together. Shiva now knows what might happen in the future, therefore you should start looking into the incident on your own.

The jewelery box on the dresser was opened, revealing various kinds of expensive jewels inside. You took the necklace with the yellow gem and handed it to Laura.

"You have done well."

“T-thank you, Your Highness!” She immediately received it from your hands.

Though you can't really confirm Shiva is completely clear of this incident, you hope it's not him. If Shiva later fails to keep his word and gets 'touched' by the nobles, it's not impossible for them to suspect you, considering you were also at the same table as the King yesterday.

But, if it turns out that Shiva poisoned Snezhnaya's king—Childe's father—then, which side should you take?

A knock on your bedroom door was heard before you found the answer. It swings open when you tell them to come in and shows Countess Sasha. She approaches you, gives you a polite bow before stating her purpose of coming.

"Your Highness, someone is pleading to see you."

You furrowed your brows, "Who?" You don't recall having an appointment with anyone.

"It's Duchess Anna."

You can't hide the uncertainty on your face. Duchess Anna? In this situation, what could she possible want to say? When she requests a meeting without an appointment, especially while the entire palace is still in grief, you want to call her out for being impolite, but deep down you are left wondering what compelled her to do that.

With a sigh, you say, "I'll meet her."

One of the drawing room is where you stand after the door closes to give you and the brown haired woman in the seats some privacy. Anna hurriedly stood up to bow to you before raising her head again.

“Your Highness—”

“How impertinent,” You interrupted her without even a smile on your face. “to ask me to meet you outside of an appointment and while we are all still in mourning. Unless you are not grieved by the tragedy that happened?”

A loud gasp escaped her red lips. “No! T-that's not it, Your Highness! I'm come to inform you of an important matter!"

"You ought to be." You said. “Start talking."

Duchess Anna bit her lip in frustration, you really don't spare even small talk. Though, it's quite understandable considering your relationship and what she has done to you (even if that was from your manipulation). She took a breath, preparing herself which you thought was too much of a waste of time.

"About His Highness agreement with my husband which was cancelled,”

Although her words cause you to raise an eyebrow, you choose to keep quiet and let her continue.

The expression on your face should be enough to tell her that you don't like where this conversation is going. Yet like most people, Anna has a cause to defend—in this case, she is fighting for herself.

"I beg you to convince His Highness to make a new agreement with him."

Anna is a lot of things that you can't describe. But, you never thought she would be this lowly. You clicked your tongue in disgust, making sure it was loud enough for her to know the sight of her sickened you.

"And why should I do that?" you ask.

The Duchess locked her jaw, both from frustration and embarrassment at seeing no difference in your expression after hearing her request. “Please, please! I will do whatever you ask of me in exchange for it. Maxim—my husband—threatened to divorce me if I couldn't resolve the situation!” Her voice was full of despair.

Maybe under different circumstances, you would pity her. However, the agreement she was referring to involved Liyue in it, and you forbid anyone to lay a hand on it.

A scoff escaped you. “Is this what you mean by 'important matter'? Not only are you utterly ignorant, you're also disturbing my time of grieving just for things like this.” Your voice is full of poison that shows the shock on her face.

“Your Highness!” Anna screamed as you started to turn around to walk out of the room. “Your Highness! You will regret this!”

How dare she to say that. You gave her one last glance and found her face red from anger. Duchess Anna.. would she come up to you and slap you like the last time?

The next thing she said froze you in place.

“Something bad is going to happen!”

What?

What does she mean by that?

Before you could turn to her and ask what she meant, the familiar excruciating headache made you lose the strength to stand up. Unknowingly, your hand reaches for the doorknob to support your unsteady legs.

A vision. After a long time of not getting one, you receive one in the worst situation. In the next second, you get a glimpse of what the future holds.

It was a man—no, a group of men whose faces you couldn't see clearly. They huddled around a big table to discuss about something. One of them tapped his full ring finger on it to get the attention of the whole room.

"Then it's decided." he started. "On the second day of the throne succession conference, the great plan will be carried out!" He said proudly, “Prince Childe will get what he should have had a long time ago.”

A small vial filled with purple liquid was displayed before he continued with his voice unable to hide a smirk within it.

“This poison is the perfect gift for him.”

The vision ended there as you tried to collect your breath. Your heart is beating too fast for you to realize that your maids are already around you worrying about you.

No..

Fear abounds. You clenched your trembling fists. Behind your head, you draw conclusions from what you just saw.

Someone is planning to kill Childe.

AbbyBianx, ness

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