#being the only one to truly see him as a person first kills me and I’m getting more pissed at shokos charcter assassination bc why did she

[autistichalsin]

My chapter-by chapter analysis of The Hunger Games, chapter 1

Disclaimer: this and all future chapter analyses will contain spoilers for all the books.

What really strikes me about this chapter is what a masterpiece it is; a masterpiece of foreshadowing, establishing moments of characterization, worldbuilding and more, all without ever feeling like we're actually getting infodumped on. This is accomplished with Katniss's stream-of-consciousness storytelling. I've heard it criticized so much, but even aside from the very salient point that it fits her characterization as an emotionally stunted, traumatized, poorly-educated teenage girl, it still helps the story in moments like this. We feel Katniss's inner chaos, and it makes the story that much more immersive.

On to the spoilery part of the analysis:

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress.

There was a post, a while ago, that I can't find but wish I could. In it, the OP talks about how Prim is literally doomed by the narrative, not "heavily foreshadowed death," but literally doomed by the narrative, and this paragraph is the first sign, because Katniss reaches for Prim and feels emptiness instead. And re-reading this, I agree. The first thing we see Katniss do is reach for Prim, and find nothing. This time, it's temporary, but by the end of the series, it won't be. We've been warned, even if we don't realize it yet: Prim is doomed.

Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay. My mother got rid of the vermin and he’s a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me.

Katniss loves her sister and will do literally anything for her. Katniss also has no moral qualms about drowning kittens. With just one paragraph, we learn what a simultaneously harshly practical yet beautifully caring, loving person Katniss is. She has no room in her life for useless things like pets, and drowning strays probably helps the people of 12 in the long run by leaving vermin to be eaten by those on the verge of starvation. But her sister wants to keep Buttercup, and so she will. Katniss will sacrifice anything to keep Prim happy.

Foreshadowing. Prim is doomed.

Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

STILL more foreshadowing, for different themes: both for one of Katniss's biggest complexes (I'll get into details about this later) and for the theme of love. Katniss doesn't truly love anyone but Prim. Her entire world, we know, is going to be shaken when she does finally feel that for someone else again. Once again, we are being introduced to the recurring themes of love vs practicality and the classic question, "how much pain is love worth?"

Katniss is going to answer this question again and again: for Prim, there is no amount of suffering too great. For others... she'll find different answers. Eventually.

My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run.

The first hints of Katniss as a deeply traumatized girl emerge. Sometimes, when you're traumatized enough, thoughts can segue into The Event with no warning, just by proximity. And through the combination of blunted language and stream-of-consciousness leaps, we can see just how broken this has left Katniss. Unfortunately, this is only the start of Events for her.

My father could have made good money selling them, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion. Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they’re as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. In fact, they’re among our best customers.

A brilliant bit of worldbuilding. The Peacekeepers are working off of deeply corrupt laws, which they ignore because they too are being mistreated and systematically starved, even if they aren't as at risk as the people of 12. The system doesn't care about the very same people it safeguards to enforce its rules. This is the first hint we get that the system isn't sustainable, and it comes before we even fully understand what kind of hell this government is.

The theme of "bread and circuses" is going to be hammered down to us again and again that this is how tyrannical governments, including this one, pacify the masses. But when only the bourgeoisie are being given the bread and circuses, well.... the proletariat aren't going to take it forever.

The book hasn't shown itself to be the anti-capitalist masterpiece it is yet, but this is the first hint that we're reading a tale of class warfare.

“District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety,” I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.

I have seen criticisms that this is an egregious case of showing and not telling, with Katniss constantly talking about the dangers of badmouthing the government while never facing them. But in truth, it's the opposite. Yes, Katniss hasn't been caught despite repeated statements that she could have, but we'll learn, here and in future chapters, that 12 has been receiving a sort of tradeoff with other districts; their more severe poverty places them below notice. No one thinks them capable of causing real trouble, and even their district specialty- coal- is later proven to be basically useless, busy-work. So they get ignored... for now. Until the oligarchs start seeing what the proletariat can actually do and crack down all the harder to ensure they keep their cheap labor.

Are you seeing the resonance with the real world yet?

Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?

Here we see the dual themes of parentification and sacrifice. Katniss will be the adult, even though she ISN'T an adult, for her sister. She will keep quiet on things that hurt her, and upset her, to set a better example for her sister and keep her from getting hurt. Prim gets to have the normal and safe childhood Katniss never had, because Katniss has invested everything into ensuring she does.

We are taking a step up the ladder of self-sacrificial acts, here. In other words: more foreshadowing. Katniss will give everything for Prim. Prim is going to die, because Katniss is going to lose everything she cared about in the process of protecting everything she cared about.

In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be myself.

Katniss can't be a teenage girl. She has to be Prim's mom. She has to be tough. She has to be a provider. She has to be a trader. An advocate. She so rarely complains about it, too. But it shows here just how much she's given up. Only one place, and one person she can be herself with, and yet...

Gale.

Isn't this ironic. Because we are about to see, throughout the entire series, that this day is going to be the last time Gale actually lets Katniss be herself (and even here, there are strong hints that Gale wants Katniss to be something very different).*

*Disclaimer, because it seems important: my opinion on the Katniss/Gale vs Katniss/Peeta ship war is "team nobody." I think both of them were very bad for her in different ways. Any comment I make that seems like it is favoring one ship or the other... isn't.

“Hey, Catnip,” says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I’d said Catnip. Then when this crazy lynx started following me around the woods looking for handouts, it became his official nickname for me.

Maybe I'm overanalyzing, but I feel like this sums up the Katniss/Gale relationship so much. Katniss tries to speak, and Gale doesn't hear or understand her. Gale projects something onto her, and Katniss rolls with it. Sure, in this case it's a cute nickname, but it represents so much more to me.

Gale doesn't understand Katniss. Fundamentally. He understands the Katniss he wants to exist. The one who will run off with him and play house in the woods and indulge his little fantasies. He doesn't know very much about the real Katniss, at least as long as he's looking at her through a romantic lens.

“Look what I shot.” Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh.

Despite what I just said, I do love Gale and Katniss's friendship, and it breaks my heart that their friendship was as doomed as Prim. (Hint. Hint.) Katniss needed someone who understood the unique pain of parentification due not to abuse, but poverty- the kind where you aren't 'allowed' to feel angry at anyone within reach. Which is the worst kind of injustice. Getting mad at someone who harmed you is one thing, but getting mad at a system you can never (... yet) hope to change is different.

She must have really loved him to leave her home for the Seam.

It's said in a casual and sort of admiring way here. But Katniss is going to learn firsthand about the intersection between love and sacrifice. With the generational mirroring as a theme, especially between Katniss and Peeta, we're being given more foreshadowing that Katniss has self-sacrifice "in the blood."

I try to remember that when all I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father’s sake. But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type.

Another little glimpse into Katniss's pain and trauma. Her mom wasn't there when Katniss needed her most, and Katniss and Prim both almost died as a result. It wasn't her fault, and we see later that she regrets it deeply, but this still leaves scars. Your parents, above everyone else, are supposed to protect you. Katniss's mom didn't, Katniss nearly died, and because of that, Katniss had to sacrifice what remained of her childhood to become Prim's mom.

Katniss and Prim's relationship never goes back to just normal sisterhood after this. From the moment Mrs. Everdeen's trauma rendered her catatonic onwards, Katniss and Prim's relationship was infused with a mother-child dynamic that never left, not even when Mrs. Everdeen became well again.

It's so painful, all the more so because it's so real. I lived this with my little brother, albeit with stakes maybe 1% this high, when my mom became an alcoholic and my dad was too busy just trying to survive to really do anything. I was the one to take care of him emotionally, to show someone cared, to provoke my mom's anger so he wouldn't be hit, to make sure homework got done and he didn't skip school (I failed. Badly.) He still considers me more his parent than either of our parents. It never really goes away, even when you're both adults; that overdeveloped feeling of responsibility stays with you. Always.

And the worst part of it is when the parent who made you have to do this decides, on their own, that the time is right for them to come back. Katniss's mom is far more gracious about it than my own. She at least understood Katniss's pain, and didn't try to force the role on her; it happened only when Katniss was ready. But that too, as we'll see in a minute, was painfully real for me.

“I never want to have kids,” I say. “I might. If I didn’t live here,” says Gale. “But you do,” I say, irritated. “Forget it,” he snaps back. The conversation feels all wrong.

Once again, a hint that despite their sweet friendship and similarities, these are two tragically, fundamentally incompatible people. Katniss is in too much pain to think of ever having a family, and Gale is in too much pain to think of not ever having one. Katniss wants to survive the way she always has (which she doesn't realize isn't her destiny yet) and Gale wants to flee and survive literally any other way.

Both change in the end, but the underlying incompatibilities in their life approaches are still there.

And even if we did . . . even if we did . . . where did this stuff about having kids come from? There’s never been anything romantic between Gale and me. [...] Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won’t have any trouble finding a wife. He’s good-looking, he’s strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.

A few very interesting things are happening here. One, we're getting another hint, first dropped during Katniss's thoughts about Buttercup, that Katniss has a pathological inability to believe others actually like her- romantically or otherwise. Part of it is low self-esteem, part of it is putting Prim on such a pedestal that Katniss feels she can never live up (and giving her more self-esteem issues) and feeling like anything she attributes to herself might take away from Prim, and part of it is just raw cynicism. And maybe a dash or two of the feeling of permanent othering trauma gives you. Especially when that trauma involves a realization that you're never going to be able to rely on others to meet your own needs. You're responsible for your needs and your loved ones' too.

(Katniss is one of the most complex and real characters of all time. I relate to Katniss an uncomfortable amount sometimes.)

The other interesting thing is that you're getting a sense, for the first time, of how much trouble Katniss has recognizing and processing her own emotions- a very common trait in neurodivergent people. She can sort-of-understand a feeling of jealousy, but can't quite put her finger on the reason, and fitting with her attitude of relentless practicality, she decides that it's the worry of losing a useful hunting partner. Because, after all, Prim is the only person she loves, she can't care for anyone else, there isn't room for that. To care about anyone else would be to "take away" something from Prim.

Katniss repeatedly raises the question of when self-sacrifice crosses the line into self-harm by proxy. When altruistic love becomes self-negation instead. It's sweet that she loves Prim so much, but the codependence... If this is the benchmark for love for Katniss, it's no wonder that she feels at this point that she can't feel it for anyone else. This isn't sustainable.

(Prim is doomed. We've been warned.)

I found the patch a few years ago, but Gale had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.

This is going to be a recurring theme; Katniss is too impulsive and lacking a sufficient cause-effect pathway to be a planner/strategist. Gale makes the plans now; later it'll be Peeta and Haymitch.

(Also, this is foreshadowing Katniss's lack of agency. She is about to become an audience member in her own life story. She found the strawberries, but she didn't decide what to do about them. Gale did. That's about to become her entire life.)

No one in the Seam would turn up their nose at a good leg of wild dog, but the Peacekeepers who come to the Hob can afford to be a little choosier.

There is a hierarchy still, where the Peacekeepers are starving, but not as starving as the people in the communities they're sent to. Everyone is hungry, but some are hungrier than others.

Hint. Hint.

“That’s not her fault,” I say. “No, it’s no one’s fault. Just the way it is,” says Gale.

"Remember who the real enemy is." Katniss gets told this repeatedly, by Haymitch and others, and eventually she learns the lesson in time to lead a successful revoltuion.

Gale does not learn this lesson. He will end up destroying everything he cares about in his pursuit of revenge against the Capitol and anyone associated with it.

Gale would normally say that there is a huge difference between Madge, the mayor's daughter who is pampered and comparatively privileged, versus the willfully malicious Peacekeepers; the middle class are still part of the proletariat, after all. But Gale, in his pain and fear, loses sight of it and lashes out. This time, it's just words. By the end of the series, when he gets actual power, it will lead to something far more catastrophic.

Prim is doomed to die, Gale and Katniss's friendship is doomed to end in the most bitter way possible, and Gale is doomed to be his own worst enemy.

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn’t reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I’m sure she thought was a harmless comment.

Gale knows he's wrong to say things like that. But again, as said above, his pain and fear get the better of him, and cause pain to those around him. His normal philosophy is correct, but he loses sight of and discards it far too easily.

(Gale is going to lose everything because of his scorched-earth approach to anger.)

Also, a note: this is how the real world operates too. Culture wars to distract from class war. For an entire generation of readers, this was their introduction to the basic principles of socialism.

But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make things fair. It doesn’t fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby game. I let him yell though. Better he does it in the woods than in the district.

Katniss is still hung up on practicality. When she rants about the Capitol, she is, subconsciously, crying for help. But venting for the sake of venting doesn't make so much sense to her, given her stunted emotions.

Another bit of characterization I really enjoy here is the realistic teenage behavior. Yes, they're the oldest in their families, responsible for their entire family and only able to support them by hunting, and they should "know better". But they're teenagers in a fascist government, with an already extreme list of traumas and corresponding problems with emotions. Of course they're going to act irrationally at times and scare off game because they're having a meltdown- even non-traumatized teens would do that sometimes!

They're teenagers. Incredibly well-written, realistic teenagers. They don't have fully developed frontal lobes with the corresponding gifts of planning, impulse control, cause-effect relationships, and other things yet. They're more mature than most, but they're still going to behave foolishly sometimes.

Prim is in my first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse. It’s a bit big on her, but my mother has made it stay with pins.

This is probably a "the curtains are blue because they're blue!" moment, but this is another bit of symbolism I enjoy. Katniss, at Prim's age, was hunting and entering the Hob. Prim is being kept alive by both Katniss and Mrs. Everdeen. She has a dress that mostly fits. She has good meals now. She is protected where Katniss wasn't. The dress represents both the sacrifices Katniss made for her and the fact that now, Prim has the adoring mother Katniss didn't have. She has two loving people looking out for her, willing to do anything to keep her safe, healthy, and happy.

(Prim is doomed.)

To my surprise, my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me. A soft blue thing with matching shoes. “Are you sure?” I ask.

Katniss can't comprehend her mom doing motherly things for her. Both because of the parentification, and because Katniss still fundamentally can't believe that anyone, even her own mother, actually cares for her enough to want to do anything for her. Not after four years of Katniss carrying the entire family on her back. It's incompatible with the world she's lived in for the last four years.

Katniss is painfully relatable.

I’m trying to get past rejecting offers of help from her. For a while, I was so angry, I wouldn’t allow her to do anything for me.

Painfully. Relatable.

What Katniss is feeling in this scene, I don't think I can describe to anyone who hasn't been there. It's relief-bitterness-anger-hope-longing-mistrust.

"Oh great, look who's finally here to help now that things are okay again and I figured everything out on my own! I want you back. I want a parent back. I don't want to do this anymore. I can't stop it. I can't trust you not to make me do it again. I'd better keep doing it so I don't get my hopes up. How do I even live without doing this? How do I live as a person and not a caretaking robot for my family? Am I allowed to do that? What kind of selfish person would I be if I did, especially now that I've seen what will happen if you fail again? No, I'm not letting you do this. I'll let you pretend to the little one because they need a parent figure and they deserve to feel normal, but me? Hell no, do you think I'm stupid? I am taking care of myself, I already learned what it costs to trust other people to see to my needs and that is not a price I'll pay a second time, thankyouverymuch. Yeah, mom I love you. I'm glad you're okay now. And thanks for doing this for me, I guess."

It goes something like that.

But I digress.

In just this paragraph Katniss expresses so much of the pain of parentification, so succinctly yet vividly that it makes my chest hurt.

I just really, really love Katniss, okay?

“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice. “And nothing like myself,” I say.

Ow. Just... ow. She says it so matter-of-factly. Like she's just accepted it into her worldview; Prim, the embodiment of everything good in the world, is beautiful. Katniss, the leftover, the thing that exists just to take care of Prim, is ugly. That simple.

I wish we could have seen Prim respond here; surely she doesn't like anyone, even her sister herself, talking about Katniss this way? Or maybe Prim is so used to these kinds of casual self-put-downs that she's stopped trying to talk Katniss out of it.

Again: painfully relatable.

I protect Prim in every way I can, but I’m powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she’s in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.

Once more: Painfully. Relatable. You put so much into protecting 'your kiddo'. And then something comes along and reminds you that you're even more powerless than the useless adults in your life. It hurts. It feels like you failed. It's one thing for you to get hurt, you already know how to deal with it, but them?

Ugh. Dystopian fiction isn't usually where my inner abused and parentified child gets validated, but this series unlocked some things in my neural pathways.

Thank you, Suzanne Collins, for Katniss. I feel so seen in so many ways through her and her story.

Sorry. I know this is supposed to be an analysis, not a love letter, but damn if Katniss doesn't play my heartstrings like a fiddle.

“Tuck your tail in, little duck,” I say, smoothing the blouse back in place. Prim giggles and gives me a small “Quack.” “Quack yourself,” I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me.

Sorry, I am going to try to not repeat myself so much, but once again it just... Prim gets to be a child, because of Katniss. She gets to be a normal-ish 12 year old who makes silly animal noises and can't tuck her dress in. Katniss was fighting for her life and trying to find food. And of course it's not Prim's fault- I love Prim. But there's something just so painful about this contrast. Katniss had her childhood stolen from her, first by the tyrannical government she lived in, then her father's death, then her mother's mental illness, and finally the needs of a child she never should have been responsible for.

It's no wonder Katniss spends so much of the series in that emotional state abused, neglected, and traumatized children know all too well. You're simultaneously precocious and childish. Too grown-up one minute and acting like a child the next. Katniss never got to experience linear growth, and her psychology sure as hell shows it.

Painfully. Relatable.

Also, yet again: Prim. Is. Doomed. She's the most important thing in Katniss's life, the rationale for every decision Katniss makes, the reason she gets out of bed in the morning. The one person who makes Katniss's life worth living. Precious, sweet Prim, who retains her innocence and kindness in a world that aggressively stomps out both, is doomed by the narrative in every possible way.

Anyway, Gale and I agree that if we have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker. The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. [...] I stare at the paper slips in the girls’ ball. Twenty of them have Katniss Everdeen written on them in careful handwriting.

When you're a child, you can't comprehend something awful happening to your parents, because your life experience just hasn't shaped yet to show you that it's even possible. You don't understand that it can happen.

When you're an adult, you can't comprehend something awful happening to your child, because your life experience has shaped to show you exactly how it's possible. You know exactly how it can happen, so you can't believe that it can actually happen.

Katniss is at a stage of her life that would already be transitional in normal circumstances, where she'd start contemplating mortality- but she's already dealt with it for years.

Her own death doesn't scare her anymore. Her sister's scares her so much that she doesn't even think it's a possibility. After all, everything she's done for the last four years of her life has been for Prim. To keep her alive and give her the childhood Katniss lost suddenly and traumatically.

Prim is doomed.

Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch — this is the Capitol’s way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy.

We got hints of apathy and cruelty before, but now the curtain is, for the first time, being peeled back. This isn't a system built on simple oppression. It's a system built on raw sadism.

It's another sign that Panem isn't sustainable. People can endure a lot of cruelty when their loved ones are hostages, but there are limits. When those limits get pushed (hint), something will have to give.

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others.

Bread and circuses. The poor give labor (food) and entertainment, and the rich receive them. The rich live sequestered lives full of privilege, yet ultimately just as much under the thumb as the tyrant as anyone else. But still supporting the system because they lack the empathy to want change when they benefit from the status quo more than they would from a new system, so they think. They are simultaneously disgusting and pitiful.

Like the comfortably wealthy Trump-supporting boomers we all know and loathe.

The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food.

Our very first, incredibly subtle hint, that winning the games might be even worse than losing them. The first time reading, of course, you'll take this at face value. Later, though, you'll think of this and realize it was all only mockery and isolationism, a way of guaranteeing that the victors would be scapegoated by their District, ensuring they would never find companionship again even if their trauma didn't prevent it. And they can't complain, because, after all, they now have a life of comfort.

So many things are intersecting here; class warfare (Victors being an allegory for "temporarily embarrassed millionaires" and the American Dream) and the isolation of trauma and mental illness and more.

But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor. Not compared to a lot of the boys. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away. “But there are still thousands of slips,” I wish I could whisper to him.

Katniss so rarely worries about herself, only those she cares for. Again; her own mortality is okay to her. It's those she protects she can't let this happen to. But since she can't even bear to face the possibility of Prim being chosen (Prim is doomed) yet, she focuses her feelings on Gale, not only worrying that he'll be picked, but worrying that he will be upset that she might be. She only spares thoughts for herself for a few brief seconds, in the next paragraph.

Katniss gets accused of being selfish so many times, but it's notable that those moments only happen once she volunteers to go into the arena, once her survival depends on a bit of selfishness. Before then, she's one of the least selfish people in the entire series, and I'd argue that even at her worst she doesn't count as truly selfish. She's a teenager trying to survive and return home to her family, not a toddler who won't share toys.

I’m feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it’s not me, that it’s not me, that it’s not me.

But, of course, even when you are theoretically okay with dying, being faced with the actual thing will still inspire terror. So for just a moment, Katniss lets herself lapse into worry about herself.

For just a moment, she thinks about herself- and just that fast, Prim is placed in danger.

(This is how Prim will die too, by the way; being put in danger the one time Katniss is focused on something other than her. Prim is doomed.)

Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it’s not me. It’s Primrose Everdeen.

The unthinkable has happened, and Katniss's life has been changed forever.

And even though she can save Prim this time, it's only temporary.

Prim is doomed. Nothing in the world can prevent it now. Prim would die in the arena, but by going instead, Katniss has put herself in a position where any and all actions she does will spark a revolution that gives her a Pyrrhic victory.

There is no version of events where Prim lives.

Prim is doomed.

[heartshapedtrap]

oh brother gojo’s corpse is being weaponized as a tool… group suicide in ten minutes

[foldingfittedsheets]

The location of the sex shop I worked was a haven for spiders. We had tall ceilings and skylights and unused storage rooms. It was a spider paradise. We quickly sussed out which coworkers to call on in case of emergency. The Dorito lady was a solid ally for spiders but absolutely petrified of moths.

But there’s actually a hierarchy of fear. Most people don’t realize. The person least afraid is the one forced to deal with the bug in question. If coworker B was scared, but coworker A was petrified, well coworker B was gonna have to screw their courage to the sticking place because by the law of fear they were the most competent person on scene.

Thus enters Rick. Rick first appeared in the back storage room. This room doubled as a second bathroom so we went in on a semi frequent basis. The girl who’d gone in to pee shot out again gibbering with fear about the biggest spider she’d ever seen had just run across her boot.

We sicced Dorito lady on it. She returned, shaking her head. “He was squatting on a power cord where it plugs in. I couldn’t get a clean shot at Rick.”

“Rick?”

She shrugged. “Spiders that big need a name. Seemed like a Rick.”

Rick, freshly named, became a store menace. I’d normally say this was probably a case of multiple spiders being mistaken for one but everyone who encountered him swore up and down there could be no mistake. This spider was massive, fast, and distinct. A gladiator among arachnids.

I never encountered Rick. His exploits grew in the telling but the theme was consistent: no one could kill him. He’d hunker in places that no one could reach and dart away when a strike missed. He also chased off the more faint hearted, charging them in bold dashes. There could be no benign cup transplant to remove Rick from the premise. He was not leaving.

The saga of Rick continued for two months. Not seeing him was almost worse, a fearful wariness when going to the bathroom or stepping into quieter areas. I waited with dread, hoping my eventual run in would have me on shift with Dorito lady to protect me.

It was not to be. There was a girl the same who hated my one moment of singing that was absolute piss-herself scared of spiders. She’d slam straight into a panic attack and couldn’t think or speak. And so it was that one night on shift, I heard her scream.

It was unmistakable. I was in the front window turning off the open sign. Through an obstacle course of mannequins and lingerie I performed an acrobatic sprint out of the window, darting up to find her quivering at the front counter, fully crying. I radiated calm at her and said, “Just point.”

I knew it was Rick. Our destinies were intertwined and we had always been pulled toward the inexorable battle that was drawing nigh.

Her hand raised to point to our sandwich board sign at the front of the store. So Rick had the metaphorical high ground. There was no quick easy strike on the slanted signs surface.

I armed myself and marched into battle, my knuckles white on my chosen weapon. I would do this, because I must. Because there was no one else. And because I wanted to close and go home.

I saw Rick immediately and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger spider since. Outside of a tarantula, he was truly the most massive spider I’ve ever beheld outside a zoo enclosure or terrarium.

We regarded each other. Rick launched off the sign toward me and I stomped my foot reflexively, making him pause in his charge. Then I raised my weapon. Anything else, I believe Rick could have evaded. He’d bested most of the store thus far. But I had chosen chemical warfare.

I doused the shit out of that spider with cleaning spray, stunning him with a barrage of chemicals. While he froze, choking on the unexpected deluge, I dropped a paper towel over him. My foot came down.

I felt his exoskeleton crunch and I can feel it still to this day. The shattering was as of bones and I truly mourned that we had been forced into senseless war. If only he has cleaved tighter to the shadows. If only he’d crawled willing into a cup for relocation. I released a full body shudder of horror, fear, and adrenaline as I stepped back.

I took several quivering breaths. I donned a veneer of calm and tidied the battlefield of it’s corpse then went to reassure my coworker that all was well, while internally I still shook.

You fought well, Rick. I hope you sired many more monstrous children to haunt retail workers in the years to come. Rest in valor, you monster.

[p0rnd3aler]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE NSFW THINK PIECE/DRABBLE

I’m depraved

Rafayel is the neediest. He’s got a lot of insecurities/abandonment issues from his first love and he def has an anxious attachment style. He’s also absolutely the type of person to be codependent (Hello?? “Join me let’s drown in the ocean together”????? Like, come on). He’s constantly trying to do every little thing with you, almost like he can’t breathe unless it’s air that’s already been filtered through your lungs.

However, all big baby behavior™️ considered, he definitely knows how to woo you. I feel like since he’s Lemurian and also an artist, he only knows how to love a person in the most deeply devoted and romantic way. He’s also very careful with his heart and who he gives it to, once he decides it’s truly and solely yours that’s it. There’s no one else. But you also have to honor that with proper care, he’s very sensitive.

Anyway, I feel like he fucks in a way that’s slow, very sensual. The kind of love making where he takes over all of your senses, all you can feel is his touch, all you can smell is his sweat and cologne, all you can taste is him on your tongue, and all you can see and hear are his face and the sweet words of devotion he whimpers in your ear.

He’s also very easy to rile up.

Zayne is boring to me. Like I get the appeal he’s very hot and he’s also very stable (in a romantic sense) and healthy but I just can’t fantasize about that. Like yeah he’s a busy ass surgeon who will always make time for you no matter what and he’s super devoted and always caring for you in little ways, but also mf will make you take a water break during sex if you’re too wet bc he doesn’t want you to get dehydrated. Im done.

Honestly I think I’m biased against him bc the way he talks to MC just reminds me of this horrid man I met at a bus stop once who immediately started trying to tell me what to do/give me life advice. I get Zayne is qualified and the guy at the bus stop was not but idc if y’all want me to put effort into writing for him ur gonna have to submit it into the requests baby, moving on.

SYLUS. I feel like everybody thinks he’s just some big ol’ nasty freak but they’re WRONG. THEYRE WRONG ABOUT HIM.

Don’t get me wrong he’s definitely fucking tweaking when you first meet him, like just going apeshit off the bat with no context for us. But also? Once you get to know him? Bitch I’ll kill for that man you do not know. This mf drops everything for you.

Important arms deal he’s been trying to set up for a year or going to the arcade with you to get plushies out of a claw machine? Deal = cancelled

The fearless leader of the N109 zone who blows up anyone who perturbs him slightly. MF contributes 50% of the carbon in the atmosphere alone with the amount of shit he literally actually blows up with bombs. But you? You may break into his house and handcuff him to his bed in his sleep while trying to steal a brooch off of him. he doesn’t give a fuck. he’s in love with you. Set his house on fire! He won’t care! He’ll just buy a new one!

As rough as he is around the edges he’s completely smitten. “You should know I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.” Like girl don’t fucking play with me. Is he mentally ill? Absolutely. But he is so devoted, so careful with you. “I’m never annoyed when we do things together.” It’s literally like he’s learning how to be a human being for once and he doesn’t care about losing the coldness or sharpness he once had because you’re more than enough to replace any absence the loss of those thing may bring. He knows he’s getting soft and doesn’t care. He doesn’t try to stop it. To kill for you is nothing to him. Not even a second thought. He kills all the time. But he would never harm again if the violence ever came in between you two.

And I think that dedication, that devotion totally translates itself into how he makes love to you. He’s definitely a filthy talker, I think he says some NASTY shit during sex, just because he likes seeing you squirm and feel how your skin gets hot from his words. But I don’t think he likes hurting you. He wouldn’t do anything to harm you. He’ll spank you yeah, and he’ll tap or squish your cheeks to get your attention. But he only wants to bring you pure, carnal pleasure when it comes to sex. If you even think “that feels good” he’s like a dog with a bone. You get no rest when he’s there you only get mind-numbing pleasure. He’s a tease, he’ll poke lighthearted fun at how loud you’re being, ask you who you think can hear you two while you’re being nasty. But he knows you. He knows what you love, what gets you off, and he cares to learn all of this because of how much he loves you God I’m SICK

Xavier is filthy. That man laps up your pussy like a thirsty dog. The freakiest nastiest mf out of all of them. He won’t show any sexual prowess or interest for months I think. I’m not sure he’s even aware of his powers. Your relationship will literally be based around his chaotic sleeping “schedule” (that shit is not a schedule) and relaxing between missions together. All things considered, you guys spend almost every waking (and sleeping) hour together. Work, dates, naps, eating, it’s almost always together.

It’s not until he hears you getting hit on all night that his composure finally starts to crack.

Three months of the sweetest, purest boyfriend you could ever ask for. Your sweet silly boy, who starts silently pouting all night. It’s not until you two finally find a hotel to stay at for the night, that he finally starts loosening up.

“I’m not a young fool, you know. I don’t take what’s in front of me for granted” he quotes the guys hitting on you earlier, which he heard through your ear piece. Then he recites every time another guy hit on you while you two were on your mission. He’s a jealous jealous jealous boy. He HATES other guys vying for your attention. It just makes him want to whisk you away and bounce you on his dick so loud that every other guy can hear it. When he feels jealousy, he feels the need to mark, claim, devour you so no one else can try and steal you. He gets himself worked up. Stewing and agonizing over the thought and the memory of another guy trying to get to you so much that he can’t even think of sleeping. He gets completely taken over by the urge to have your every reaction solely based on him and what he gives you. I think he fights off these feelings for a long time, up until the protocore mission in the misty invasion memory. He just barely keeps it together until you’re rubbing all over him, pulling him closer to whisper his name in his ear, he just can’t take it. He needs to hear you say it louder. He needs everyone to hear you say his name.

He fucks you so sloppy, the kind of man who does not care what means he has to use as long as the end is what he wants. He wants you covered in marks of his making, he wants you to smell like him, he wants you to have trouble walking the next day, and he wants that asshole who tried hitting on you at work to ask you “what’s wrong? You look like you’re having trouble walking”

And as soon as the guy asks that you look over to Xavier, who has the most pleased little shit eating grin on his face.

The craziest part is that after he gets it all out of his system he’s back to being the little innocent sweet boy. But you know his secret, and he likes that you know it.

[fluff-n-cookies]

Dabi simply adores you, his precious daughter. But he didn’t always love you.

Part 2

Warnings: attempted murder (failed), canon typical violence, robberies, alcohol+drugs, references to child neglect, implied pedophilia (nothing graphic, and not towards reader), teenage parenthood, minor swearing.

reader has blue eyes like Dabi's.

let me know if you spot anymore.

note: I swear, it's not that bad, just fluff with kinda angsty undertones, cuz' it's Dabi! what do you want

I mean, he was only a teenager when he had you, fresh to the villain business at the wonderful age of 16 and a half. He decided it’d be a wonderful time to drink his sorrows away one night, one horrid, awful night. He ended up fucking a woman he did not know, who was surely much older than he, in the back alley of a bar in the worse parts of town. Amidst the filth of the nearby dumpster, it was here that he would make the single worst decision of his life, either that, or the best. He really doesn’t know.

but alas, he ended up with a little swaddled baby 9 months later when the same woman angrily shoved you into his arms, declaring something unintelligible before storming out of the bar again. Dabi, who at the time was drunk and higher than a kite. didn't react. when you started crying, he didn't react. when you cried louder, thrashing around in his hold he still didn't react. he was in his own world at that moment, shutting out everything except the burn of the cheep beer going down his throat. it wasn't until he was kicked out of the bar along with you for being too disruptive and he fell asleep in one of the abandoned buildings nearby only to wake up hung over and disoriented did he realize what he had done; when he saw a quite malnourished baby laying down on his jacket that he chucked on the floor last night. your swaddle all dirty by now.

he did nothing but stare at you for a while, the pounding in his head as well as the harsh rays of the mid day sun didn't help much. He was still just a kid, a villain too, and homeless. he wasn't ready to have a child. for a split second he thought of leaving you there, God, you looked just like Fuyumi when she was a baby. but you looked worse, like you were barely living. had you... had you died during the night? he stumbled to your side of the room, trying his best to avoid the rumble of the deteriorating building. it would truly have been a miracle if you happened to survive in such conditions.

carefully, he flipped you onto your back, putting a warm hand on your chest. god. you were barely breathing. barely responding too. Dabi's breath hitched, had he nearly killed his own child? he stayed like there for a few moments. looking right at you. he really had no idea what to do. you're already on the verge of death, if you died right now, would it really matter? you've been on this earth for only a few days it seems, your mother left you with a villainous teenage father who could let you wither away in an abandoned building.

if you were to die right now. he could spare you the pain of having to live with him, you'd never have to know the horrors of life.

he could just light one flame,

let it fill the room with smoke,

and watch as your lungs give up

and you simply stop breathing.

...

you'd just be another person who never got to see their future.

Gently, he stroked your tiny chubby cheek with a warm finger.

he nearly laughed at the thought, killing his first child, just like his own father had done with him. he pulled you into his arms, preparing to hold a small flame right up to your face until your fragile little body couldn't take it anymore. then he'd leave your body here as he burns down the rest of the building. a fitting memorial. but before he could do anything,

he paused - you - you squirmed in his hold. cracking open your eyes to stare at him with soulless blue eyes that mirrored his own, tried and scared. an expression that surely should never be on the face of a child.

Dabi truly can't quite recall what happened in that moment when he held you in his arms. all he remembers is a clenching in his heart. maybe it was the alcohol and the drugs. but he felt the emptiness and the pain. the gut wrenching, soul crushing pain, the type that he felt whenever his father would ignore him, again and again. he pain he felt when he saw his childhood home again after so many years, only to find that nothing had changed; he was forever gone and no body gave a fuck.

but- you. just you. you were just like him. you wanted nothing more than a little bit of love. would it truly be so bad if he gave it to you? he'd keep you around, for a while at least.

that's what he told himself as he found himself stealing diapers and baby powder and formula and what not from a convenience store, only to fuck up making formula and changing a baby. he did a little victory dance with you in his arms when he finally figured it out.

but that's only after he managed to get some midwife or other doctor to do a lil' check up on you. (only to knock them out for the police to find their body hours later.) anxiously analyzing everything the doctor was doing, making mental notes to himself to have you try and eat better.

he tended to do more robberies and muggings these days, only to spend it all on a shabby little one bedroom condo in one of the cheaper (and by proxy, crime ridden) parts of the city. it was better than being a single parent living on the streets I guess.

he ended up turning the bedroom into your nursery, if you would call a room that could barely hold a twin sized bed, full of nothing but a crib, a small closet full of dirty clothes, and a big stack of baby products in one corner; a nursery. he instead slept on the couch most nights. but he would forever find himself running back into your room whenever you would cry, he almost always ended up letting you sleep on his chest on the couch. both arms slung over your tiny body so there would never be a chance you'd fall out of his grip.

but life got better with time it seems. he started taking bigger jobs, bank robberies, sometimes murders every now and then. he built a good reputation for himself. and you. you grew on him. who was once a fragile little thing, right to death's doorstep. now, when you smiled, he felt ever so full of life.

he liked how you would always wait by the door after he went out to run an "errand", always being right where he left you and babbling happily when he came back. making a little gesture to be picked up and carried.

he liked you you tend to boss him around most of the time. you could point to where you wanted to go and he would happily carry you there. he isn't even aware of what he's doing, you could yell at him (as best as a baby can anyways) and he'd meet your demands near instantly without much complaint. someone else would have to point it out for him to notice.

he especially liked how you would stare at him with wide eyes as he would smoke on the balcony with the glass door shut. every night, it was a routine, just after dinner, Dabi would snag a pack of cigarettes, and sit outside on the balcony to smoke, occasionally looking back inside through the glass to see what you were doing. he would put on a little cartoon or set out some toys for you. and while that'd keep you entertained for a while, you'd still drift towards him, looking back at him through the glass to try and get his attention. his smoke breaks kept getting shorter and shorter because of that.

he liked how every time he woke up, you would always be with him. looking up at him with those big blue eyes that he gave you. especially the way you'd always look at him with nothing but love and joy.

the same eyes that he used to look at his own father with disdain and fury.

he'll joke around that you're too clingy, always following him, attached to the hip, quite literally with how often he holds you on his hip. But deep down he knows he'd be torn apart if you were gone from him for even one hour. he can't live without your little hugs and giggles and stupid playtime's and everything. please, your love means the world to him.

but he was still only ever a boy, a boy who never quite got to grow up the way he was meant to. but you will forever be the reason he'd try and be a man. for his little girl. he remembers how he'd make more frequent trips to the grocery store, how he'd stock up on medicine for kids, how he'd buy cleaning supplies to somehow make the rinky dinky condo you both live in a tad bit more suitable for a child.

you're the reason he even joined the league. this world has already killed him, and while he was given a second chance as Dabi will it really ever be the same?

but you. you are so full of life, so perfect, awaiting a future unknown. he'll sculpt this world with the second chance he's been given. for your father, Touya, may be dead, but Dabi is not, and he is very much ready to give you what he never had, even if he dies again in the process.

but with the league comes responsibility, a time consuming responsibility. gone are the days when he'd lounge around at home all day and only leave to take you to the playground or grocery shopping, and the occasional robbery when he was low on cash. now he was busy! can you believe it? now Dabi may have skipped nearly all of high school but he wasn't that stupid enough to leave a child home alone for hours on end. hence, he came to the conclusion of daycare. the horrid, horrid daycare.

he nearly cried when he realized his little girl was growing up so fast, it seemed like just last week he was holding you on his hip as he heated up a bottle of formula in his hand to finally get you to shut up and sleep. that only a couple days ago you walked your first ever steps after he came home early with your favorite snacks. he wasn't even able to record it he was too busy sobbing as you held onto his legs to steady yourself waiting for him to pick you up. it literally felt like yesterday you said your first words, "baba" after he jokingly started calling you cry baby.

this actually led to quite a lot of problematic nicknames, cry baby became Babs and Babs became bun and bun became bunny and bunny---- (i'm losing it as I write this.)

but nonetheless, it hurts. so every morning he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to haul you out of bed and get you all pretty and dolled up for the day. he lets you choose your shirt and pants and bows and what not. tying up your little baby sized shoes to take you to the next district over. now, he would've enrolled you into a daycare much closer to home but he really wants you to be safe, and unfortunately anything and everything in your neighborhood without his supervision is not and never will be, considered safe. so he'd much rather escort you via public transport to the richer neighborhoods every single morning than have you be in danger of any kind. sure, you're a little out of place, with thrifted clothes and frizzled up hair from only ever using your dad's 4-in-1 shampoo. and he's definitely out place. hence why he never quite shows his face to the teachers. always ushering you into the daycare building before leaving as fast as he came. The teachers think that he's your older goth brother who's being forced to take you to school by his parents. is it exhausting? yes, very much so. will he do it on repeat for the rest of his life if that means ensuring your happiness and safety? most certainly yes.

---

PART 2 IS HERE

that'll be all. I might do a part 2. tried something different with my writing this time and hope it's better than the rest of my works.

my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box

send me an ask, I fucking love hearing from you guys.

edit, 4 hours after posting: I'm very disappointed that I still have no new asks. very disappointed in you all.

[vrisrezis]

Atsv characters realizing they’re in love with you

Gwens on the verge of tears, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen her like this in all the time you’ve known her. You’ve known gwen for almost your entire life, and never once have you ever seen her in such a state of affairs.

You suppose it’s reasonable, she lost Peter and she thinks she lost her father forever, the only other people she ever had. And then there’s you. Somebody she felt such deep emotions for even if she was unaware how deep they ran.

There’s so many emotions and so many thoughts running through her head, when she sees you for the first time in what feels like years.

You don’t say anything.

You stare at her, the state she’s in.

Your movements are slow and meticulous, calculated. And she wonders if you’re doing that because you’re cautious, because you’re scared of her.

“I don’t know what dad told you.” fear drips from her vocal cords, “but I promise you,” she’s desperate, wanting your touch so badly but fearing you truly saw her as a monster too, “I would never, ever, kill Peter.”

the building you’re both on, feels so much darker than it really is. It feels like she’s revealing herself to her dad for the first time all over again. She wants to cave in on herself but she fights every need to push you away because she needs you in her life.

“And believe me, I wanted to tell you! I did! I really did!” she tries desperately to explain, finally letting a tear slip out.

As soon as she let one go, it became a waterfall of tears.

“I love you.” she says, voice barely above a whisper, taking you both by surprise.

She realizes what she said, but she doesn’t dwell on it for much longer. Because she realizes, finally, what she said was true.

And now that she finally knows what it is she’s truly been feeling for you all these years, it hurts even more to look at you and not know what you could possibly think about her. She wishes she knew what was going through your head, she wishes she could just tell what you were feeling by searching your face but she just can’t find anything. She doesn’t know what you make of this. She doesn’t know if she’s going to lose you today.

“Please.” she feels her lips wobble, she knows she’s going to completely break down if you don’t say something, anything, in the next minute.

All she’s met with is more silence.

Miles knew he had a crush on you, sure. That simply made sense, it was common knowledge to anyone that wasn’t an idiot. Well, except you. But miles didn’t think you were an idiot, just maybe oblivious. It’s not like he minded, he was grateful that he liked the one, singular person in this very world that was oblivious enough to not catch onto Miles’s adoration for you.

Miles talked about you a lot, admittedly. His parents were naturally happy he had found an actual friend that wasn’t away, that wasn’t ganke, and that clearly made him so happy. In fact, Rio mentions how she’s never seen her son so happy to talk about somebody. She had teased him a few times, and although miles tried to deny it, both her and Jeff knew he liked you a little bit more than a friend should. Though, a little bit is a stretch. He liked you a LOT more than a friend should.

And man, when you finally met them. Ohhh boy.

Miles had tried to prevent it for so long, in fear his parents would embarrass him, even worse if they didn’t like you. But he had been delaying the inevitable long enough, and the time had finally came.

In the past, Rio had teased him about being in love. Of course, miles denied the fact. He had a crush sure, but love? That’s a lot, isn’t it?

But seeing you interact with his parents, getting along with them so well. Even with his dad?

He just can’t stop staring, and while normally Rio would be concerned, she simply walks over to her son with a knowing smile.

“I think Im in love.”

“I know, mijo”

Hobie had a rough day, to say the least. Being spiderpunk, spiderman, was tough. And as much as he complained about it, he was perfectly content with the way he went on living. Especially since it had given him the power to protect you, and fight for his beliefs.

But regardless it was sometimes a painful experience, being spiderman. The gash on his side wasn’t too huge, but was deep enough to cause him pain anytime he walked. Swinging around wasn’t much better.

He decided to swing by your place, since it was closer to him and while he hated the idea of bothering you while he was in this state, hated the idea of worrying you, he knew it was the best option if he wanted to get back to fighting as quick and as painless as possible.

He lets himself in through the window, as always. He walks over to your hunched over form at your desk, peeking over. “Biochem?” he asked aloud, and you, unbothered, simply nod. “Yknow you should really start locking the window sweets.” he says with a grin, and while you’d normally be annoyed by his remarks, you notice a strain in his voice that makes you look up at him.

You’re quick to stand up, “hobie! Jesus what happened to you!?” you said, ushering him into your bathroom so that you can get your first aid kit.

He sits down on the toilet, before shrugging. “Stuff..”

you’ve fixed him up before, but this was a little different. There was a change in your demeanor. It wasn’t out of this world for you to worry for him, but this felt vastly different this time around.

You were so kind, so gentle with him.

In his mind, he’s undeserving.

The warmth of your hands on him, was the only thing he could think about. Not even the pain of literally being stabbed could compare to how electrifying your touch felt.

Perhaps it was the blue led lighting in your bathroom or the loss of blood but, you looked so beautiful right now.

“I think I love you.” he whispers quietly, staring into your eyes.

Staring back, you can’t help but think you love this idiot too.

Pavitr is an idiot when it comes to romance, whether he likes to act like he’s good at it or not. He is not as smooth as he pretends to be. He realizes this anytime he tries to shoot his shot at you. He fumbles with his words and has to come up with some excuse as to why he needs to leave in that exact moment, immediately. Even pretending to flirt with his best friend, gayatri, doesn’t work. He does it so well with her, but when it comes to you he just cannot articulate his words. He finds himself totally lost.

It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out his feelings for you are strong, and that his feelings go deeper beyond friendship. You seem to be the only moron in all of mumbattan that hasn’t noticed, and he’s not sure if he’s grateful or in great agony.

One of the biggest reasons he was so obvious about how he liked you, was shown through how clingy he was. Physical affection is his love language, after all. But it goes beyond that, he always finds himself wanting to spend time with you. He even insists on walking you home even when his house is in the opposite direction, his excuse being that he wants you to get home safely despite being in broad daylight. It’s still a dangerous world out there, is his reasoning.

But it’s been so long since he last walked you home. When you were kids, he did it all the time. As you grew older, the tradition seemed to stick but as he became spiderman this occurrence became less frequent. It’s been months since he’s been able to do this.

The sun is bright, but it hits your face perfectly. And he can’t help but think you look like some ethereal god. Given his line of work, he doesn’t think it would be that weird if you were one.

He feels like he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t even realize its cause he’s way too focused on you, every little feature. Your hair, eyes, your nose, cheeks, mouth. Anything he could possibly look at on your face, he’s looking. He’s not listening to a word you’re saying, he watches your lips move but he cannot catch a damn thing. The grip he has on his bookbag becomes tighter, his face feels hot and he wants to say it’s because of the sun but he knows that’s not true. God, has your laugh always been so pleasant to the human ears? Or was that just him?

His lips move, before he even has a chance to stop the words from coming out, like word vomit.

“God I love you”

[froggiewrites]

Bloody Hands

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You're struggling with horrible period cramps, and luckily, Law has the perfect solution. Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Period Sex, Fluff Word Count: 2.1k Notes: Did I write this in one sitting instead of just taking ibuprofen for my cramps like a normal person? Maybe. Anyway, this is my first time writing for Law, so I hope I did him justice!

This is going to kill you.

You say that every month, of course, but you really, truly mean it this time. You’re practically immobilized, laying in the fetal position on your bed trying not to let out pitiful moans every time another wave of pain hits. You fail every time.

Several members of the crew had come to check on you, bringing offerings of heating pads, ibuprofen, and various other remedies, but they hardly helped. After the fifth visit (Penguin bringing you more water while anxiously checking you over), you couldn’t even thank your friends, only letting out a sad whimper to acknowledge their presence before once again squeezing your eyes tight and trying desperately to ground yourself.

Your captain had been noticeably absent from these visits, probably burying himself in work as he always does, and you’re torn between being grateful he hasn’t seen you in such a sorry state and hurt tearing through your chest that he didn’t care enough to check on you. You would have gone to him in a heartbeat if he was doing as poorly as you were. He wouldn’t want you to, of course, would lock his door and burrow so deeply into his bed he wouldn’t see a single speck of light until his illness had passed, but you would come anyway. You would at least try.

You regret the thought the moment you hear a familiar hum at the doorway. You should have known he would never leave you alone when you needed him. “I almost didn’t believe everyone when they said how bad it was.” You whine, and you hear a sympathetic chuckle. “I know.” The heels of his shoes click softly against the ground, and suddenly Law’s warm hand has slid under your shirt, warm and gentle as it rubs circles onto your upper back.

“Everything hurts.” You’re so lost in the pain you can't even bring yourself to hate how pathetic you sound. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, and you nuzzle into it, welcoming the affection gratefully.

“I know, sweetheart.” He doesn’t often call you pet names, and it makes your heart flutter when he does. Usually when you hear them it means you’re going to be taken care of, cherished in a more tender way than the quiet and understated (but no less wonderful) way he normally shows his love for you. His lips ghost over your forehead, and you finally open your eyes to see his own staring at you with undisguised concern, bags under his eyes more pronounced than usual. “Can you describe it to me? Is it just the cramps, or is there something else?”

“It’s just cramps. And a small headache, I guess.” Another wave crashes over you, and you pull yourself in even tighter. “They’re…they’re not normally this bad.”

“And the pain meds haven’t helped?”

“Not enough.”

“Hm.” You can see the exact moment he flips from lover to doctor, racking his brain for any knowledge he can use to help you, and the moment he finds his answer. The light flickers on behind his eyes, and he carefully looks over you, assessing the situation, before your lover is back, sly grin slowly creeping over his face and a quiet excitement makes its way into his voice. “I think I know something that could help. If you’re willing.”

“I would do anything for this to stop,” you whimper, and his amusement once again fades into fondness as his eyes soften with pity.

“I’ll do my best to help, sweetheart, I promise.” His lips brush against your forehead again before the bed shifts and his warmth has left you. You cry out, but he gently shushes you. “Just a minute. I’ll be right back, really.”

He probably is only gone for a minute, but it feels like hours. You don’t relax for even a second until you hear a quiet, “Shambles!” and find yourself in the familiar dim light of Law’s room. Your back is pressed against something rougher than his usual blankets, and you turn your head to see you’re laid out against a mismatched array of towels, clearly stolen from the shared bathroom the rest of the crew uses. His pair of towels are separated, one lying directly under your lower half while the other sits folded and ready at the end of the bed. Law is staring at you, unblinking, directly next to it.

“Hi.” Your voice is weaker than you want it to be, barely a whisper, but he slightly smiles when he hears it anyway.

“Hi.” He leans forward a bit, eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light, looking almost like a predator stalking his prey. It makes you tense despite yourself, causing another flash of pain in your abdomen. The vulnerable noise you make causes him to grin, showing just a bit of sharp canines through his parted lips. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“Your treatment, sweetheart.” He maintains eye contact with you as he slowly pulls latex gloves over his tattooed hands, covering the letters on his fingers. Once they’re fully on, he lets the material go, making a small thwap as it snaps against his skin. He repeats himself. “Are you ready?”

“Yes?”

“I need you to be sure.”

“Yes.” You repeat, more firmly this time.

“Excellent. I promise you’ll feel better soon.” With that, you can feel the cool latex against your skin as he slips off the loose pajama pants you were wearing in a single fluid motion. You then feel his hands against your thighs, forcing them apart and leaning forward. You let out a soft noise of surprise, and he gives you the same predatory smile as before before muttering, “Just relax.”

His gloved fingers slowly trace up your thighs, before he quickly removes your panties, depositing them somewhere nearby. He turns his attention back to you, fingers retracing their path, and you shiver as he runs a single finger down your slit. He lifts his hand closer to his face as though to inspect it, and you can see the blue latex becomes stained with blood. You can see his pupils dilate, black overtaking the normal steely grey of his eyes. You can’t tell if he’s fascinated or aroused. Probably both.

He allows his hand to find its rightful place again, slowly inserting his first finger into you. You gasp quietly, and he laughs under his breath. You feel yourself stretch around him as the slick of your blood makes it easy for him to slide himself knuckle deep into you. You let out a stuttering breath as you get used to the new sensation. Your pain hasn’t subsided, but this is certainly a good distraction.

“Everything alright?” His voice is low, thick with want, but he tries to maintain an even tone.

“Yeah,” you managed to squeak out. “I’m fine.”

“Only fine?” He lets out a displeased hum. “Next time I ask, I want you to be doing better than ‘fine’.”

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” You regret the words the moment they come out of your mouth. As much as Law loves to pretend he is some even-keeled professional, he’s easily riled up by a challenge, and challenges relating to you are some of his favorites. “I mean–”

“I know what you meant. Don’t worry. I’ll make it happen.” With that, he begins pumping, keeping a steady slow pace that isn’t nearly enough for you, before suddenly adding a second finger. He curls them, hitting a sweet spot that makes you sing for him, and he gives you an absolutely shit eating grin. “Sounds like we’re already well on our way, hm?”

He speeds up slightly, his other hand leaving the plush of your thigh and finding your clit. The material feels strange against you, but that thought is quickly shoved out of your head as he slowly begins to rub small circles against it. You let out a whine of, “Law!”

“Yes?” His voice is dripping with smugness. You can do nothing but let out another small cry of his name, and you can see the way his chest slightly puffs out with pride at the sound. There is nothing in the world he loves more than making you come unraveled, and he loves any reminder of that, especially those that remind him that you’re his and that he is the one making you feel this way. “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you. We’ll be there soon.” He adds a third finger, reveling in the way you clench around him. You see his eyelids drop slightly as he takes in the sight of you splayed out before him, blood and wetness covering his fingers as they pump in and out of you.

You finally, finally begin to feel something stronger than your pain as the coil in your stomach tightens, making every part of you begin to tense as you approach your precipice. Law leans over you, taking his eyes off of your cunt for the first time since he started  just so he can look you in the eyes and whisper, “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You gush around his fingers, crying out. He doesn’t look away from your face as your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, taking in every inch of your sweet expression. He works you through it, not removing his fingers until he knows for certain that you’ve ridden your high to the end, leaving you spent and relaxed against the towel below you. Once he slides his hands out of you, he quickly removes his gloves, dropping them into a nearby trash can. He grabs the towel at the end of the bed and uses it to wipe up any blood on your thighs, placing a gentle kiss to each thigh once he’s sure they’re clean.

“How are you doing?” His voice carries no challenge like earlier, only a genuine concern for you.

“I’m great.”

“No cramps?”

You close your eyes, taking in your current state. You feel a little sore, and there’s still a small pressure in your skull, but you realize your abdomen doesn’t hurt at all. “No cramps.” You can’t keep the pleased smile off of your face, and when you open your eyes you see his expression mirrors your own, if a touch more smug.

“Good.” He kisses your forehead before gently gathering you into his arms. You let out a soft noise of protest, but he pulls you into his chest anyway. “After a quick shower and some sleep I think your treatment will be over. …For now.”

“For now?”

“You’ll have to come see me if your cramps return, of course.” His eyes shine with a gentle mischief you don’t often get to see.

“Oh, of course, Dr. Trafalgar.” You expect him to roll his eyes at you, but he smirks further at you using his title. Interesting.

For now, he carries you into his personal bathroom, setting you down and beginning to fuss with the shower. Your eyes spy the empty towel rack, and you have a realization. “Law?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any towels not covered in blood?”

“I–hm.” He leaves for a moment, returning with another clearly stolen towel. The crew is going to have a bad night once showertime rolls around, but you can’t bring yourself to care too much, still caught up in your sudden relaxation after your day of suffering. In the shower, Law pampers you thoroughly, refusing to let you lift a finger to do anything for yourself. His fingers are gentle as he washes your hair, your face, your body. He wraps you tenderly in a towel once all is done, even helping you dress once you’ve dried. He only stops pampering you once he’s tucked you tightly into his bed, heating pad and pain meds ready on his nightstand just in case. And in a very rare treat, instead of rushing off to work, he lays down next to you.

“You aren’t going to leave?” You can’t keep the tentative hope from your voice.

“Not until you’re asleep.” He pulls your head into his chest, and you happily make a home there.

“I’ll have to stay up to keep you here.” Even as you say it your eyes are drooping, and you can feel the rumble of his laugh.

“You can try.” He runs his fingers carefully through your hair.

You lose quickly, falling into an easy sleep, surrounded by warmth and care, and pain far away from your mind.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[lizthewriter]

now i'm all about you / theodore nott

PAIRING  best friend!theo nott x reader

SUMMARY  theo pushes you to realize how toxic your boyfriend is and how you deserve much better. theo being much better. (tw: reader's boyfriend calls her explicit names)

QUOTE  "clung to the nearest lips, / long story short it was the wrong guy, / now i'm all about you," - long story short by taylor swift

WORD COUNT  1.8K

WRITTEN  7.13.2024

theo glared at the wall with an unbridled fury as he rubbed your back, your sobs filling the room. he was going to kill him.

who was him, exactly? oh just your good-for-nothing boyfriend. now theodore loved with his whole heart. he truly did. but he couldn't for the life of him understand why you were going out with an absolute wanker like him.

you were so paticular about who you allowed in your life - but this arse somehow slipped his way through the cracks. this boy somehow always found a way to make you crawl into theo's arms with tears in your eyes, a broken heart, and wounded pride. and damn it, he's been holding himself back from knocking sense into ypu because he was afraid that kind of talk was coming from the fact that he'd been bloody in love with you since the day he first laid eyes on you. but he knew it was beyond that now. all he wanted was for you to be happy - and you very obviously weren't.

"hey, do you think you can look at me for a second?" theo asked in a gentle tone, shifting away from you slightly to get you to pop up out of your shell. you raised your head away from his chest (where his sweater was now damp with your tears) - he practically felt his heart break at your apperance. cheeks shiny with tears, eyes red and puffy from crying, hair frizzy and messy.

"i am telling you this as your best friend and someone who cares about you," theo started slowly, taking your hand and placing it in his. "you're an amazing person. and you don't deserve to be treated like this. you deserve to be treated like - like a queen! all right? this shitty guy shouldn't get a single sickle of your time."

"but - but what if this is the best i can get?" you asked with a sniffle, the waterfall of tears returning as your chest heaved. another pang of his heart, another surge of his rage. "what if i break up with him and then i'm alone forever cause no one else wants me?"

"i promise you, that's not true," theodore told you reassuringly. "i'm not complimenting you to be nice, i'm being honest, you're genuinely one of the best people I've ever met and i'm grateful i have you in my life . . . anyone else who's fortunate enough to be friends with you will see and recognize that as well. please. for your sake. break up with him. he only ever makes you upset. and you deserve to be happy."

the responsive silence weighed more heavily on theo than it probably did on you.

"maybe you're right," you sniffled in response. you wiped away your tears with the edge of your sleeve before theo offered you a tissue. "i deserve to be happy."

he smiled softly. "that's right."

"yeah . . . why do i get to be treated like this when i'm nothing but a great girlfriend?" you exclaimed angrily. "i mean, does he go sobbing to his friends about this stuff or is he just going about his life like- like he's not ruining mine?"

you stood up suddenly. "thank you, theo. you made me realize something today. i'll be right back."

"wait, i didn't mean break up with him no-" he wasn't even able to finish his sentence before you slammed the door to his dorm behind you as you rushed out of the room. he sighed, then chuckled. "well, that was anticlimactic," he said sarcastically to himself.

-

you laughed gaudily, your nose buried in a bouquet of flowers. your arm wrapped around him. your eyes admiring him. your body leaning against him.

what a prick, theo thought.

your "boyfriend" was manipulating you and you couldn't even see it. or at least, you didn't want to see it. see, you had confronted him. made a whole scene in front of his friends. landed a stark slap across his face. but he just as easily won you back in your moment of post-relationship weakness. by bringing you flowers and chocolate a promising to be better.

and here you were in hogsmeade, where you had invited him on a double date. you hooked him up with one of your friends, who was obviously very into theo and very dissappointed to see theo not granting her even a moment of his attention. she sat grumpily beside him, sipping on her butterbeer while grumbling under her breath.

"i'm going to grab us some more drinks," you said with a wide grin, getting up out of your chair. turning around, you bumped into another student trying to carry an obscene amount of butterbeer which accidentally slipped down your entire front. soaking your shirt, causing the thin fabric to cling to your chest.

"watch where you're going!" your boyfriend shouted at the kid, who mumbled apologies under his breath as he began to clean the mess he had made. he grabbed a handful of napkins from the center of the table, beginning to wipe at your chest, but you gently pushed his hands away as you wrapped your eyes around your body to protect from the wandering eyes of neighboring tables. "and you, couldn't you wear something a little less . . . showy?" he asked you under his breath, all though theo could hear him well enough. "i don't need other guys looking down your shirt."

"there's- there's nothing wrong with my shirt," you mumbled, receding further within yourself.

"you look like a cheap whore walking around like that."

you shut your eyes tight, almost as if you were afraid of standing up for yourself. "you said i looked pretty earlier."

"don't you dare call her that. and stop trying to police what she's wearing," theo said suddenly, getting up from the table and wrapping a protective arm around you. your boyfriend narrowed his eyes at theo. "when you should be helping her instead."

he took what was supposed to be an intimidating step towards theo. "take your hands off of my girlfriend."

theo chuckled bitterly. "your girlfriend? you certainly don't treat her like one."

"i'm warning you."

"just stop," you said quietly, placing a hand on your boyfriend's chest. "i was right. this . . . this wasn't a good idea. thank you for the flowers and the drinks but we're done."

you didn't even look him in the eyes as your hand slipped away from him and theo turned around, leading you out of the three broomstick.

"you're a little bitch you know that?" he called after you, causing the whole bar to go deathly silent. "probably cheating on me with theodore 'i miss my mommy' nott. date a pathetic loser like that and see-"

the crowd let out a collective gasp as he was suddenly shut up by theodore's fist meeting his mouth. red rinsed theo's knuckles - he couldn't tell if the blood was his own or your boyfriend (well, ex-boyfriend he now supposed) but to be honest, he didn't care. "you keep your filthy mouth shut," theodore spat.

"that's it! you two, out of my pub!" madam rosmerta exclaimed, shooing you and theodore away with a rag. as you left, you glanced behind you to see her giving your ex a good verbal beating. "oh and the headmaster will be hearing about this! students fighting, in my pub! not in so many years have i seen such disrespect to a public establishment!"

"here," theo said, placing his rather large coat around your shoulders as the two of you exited the three broomsticks. "are you okay? he said some pretty shitty things to you back there."

"i'll be fine," you responded with a weak smile. "i'm really sorry, you shouldn't have had to-"

"i wanted to. punch him in the face, i mean. he deserved it." the two of you soaked in the silence wrought on by your awkwardness. "he's wrong. you're not a - you know, what he called you. and i don't think anyone in that pub would assume that of you either."

"that means a lot to me, theo . . ." you paused, reflecting on your past relationship. "you want to know something?"

"hm?"

"i knew he was bad for me. of course, deep down, i knew. i guess i just hoped that he would be the person i thought he could be, the best version of himself. but . . . he didn't turn out that way." you buried your face in your hands and sighed. "merlin i feel so stupid."

"you're not stupid," theo reassured you, stopping in the middle of the road to place both his hands on your shoulder. "you're optimistic and you always believe the best in those around you. and that's one of the things that i- i love about you. it's not your fault that not everyone deserves your kindness."

the corner of your lips curled upwards and for a moment, you felt your heart pang in your chest. the way theo was looking at you, well, you didn't want to delude yourself, but there was so much love in his gaze. so much kindness and compassion. and looking back on your friendship, you can't remember him having done all the things he's done for you for anyone else. and you can't think of a single moment, at a drop of a quill, that he wasn't there for you when you needed him.

"you're too kind to me, theo," you mumbled in embarrassment, your cheeks growing red at his praise.

"i'm not kind, only honest, you know this."

"i- i can't help but think there's a reason you're so nice to me," you suggested subtly. it seemed so obvious to you now - it made so much sense. "theo, you have been there for me whenever i needed you. and you've helped me through so much. it's hard to think you'd do all that for someone you just consider . . . a friend."

theo paused and his silence made you nervous. maybe you were looking too much into it, reading too much into it?

"if my care for you were coming from a different place . . . hypothetically, how would you respond?" he asked, nervously shifting the weight of his body from one foot to the other.

"hypothetically, i'd say i would need some time to properly move on but i wouldn't mind going on a hypothetical date," you responded, pretending to consider the prospect. "that is, of course, if you can fit one into your hypothetical schedule."

theo smiled, a grin so wide you were sure his face would split in half. "i think i'd hypothetically be able to work something out."

[giddyfatherchris]

📱skz texts —how they react/comfort you (when you're going through a rough patch with a friend)

| including. bang chan, lee know

warnings. mentions of homophobia, anxiety and depression (but not going in depth with any of these subjects)

a/n. FINALLY!! channie and lee know’s part babyyyy honestly i kept procrastinating but today i decided enough is enough.😤 again, these are not in order but i cannot be 🎶booOoOoOthereeeddd🎶 so :) hope you enjoy mwah xxx

changbin, seungmin & i.n

hyunjin, han & felix

Lee Know

He knew from your texts you were not in your normal state. You were usually such a bubbly person, but when you answered so drily to his questions, he knew something was wrong.

As he waited for you to come home, he couldn't help but pace in his apartment. You weren't living together yet, but you spent so much time at his flat that you claimed it as your second home comfortably. In the 15 minutes it took for you to arrive, Lee Know had prepared himself for many scenarios, but he could have never predicted how you opened harshly the door and slammed it shut. Your ritual of crouching on the floor, calling for his three cats, was brutally ignored as you stomped to the kitchen.

"Hi, baby." He tentatively tried. Cautious, he kept his distance as you grunted in answer. You opened the fridge door, looked for a milli second before you closed it, then repeated the same process with the pantry. You made yourself a glass of water, didn't even take a sip, and grumbled as you looked in front of you, not really seeing anything. You abandoned it on the counter, ready to stomp away, when Lee Know put himself in your trajectory.

"What's going on?"

You would have kept walking if he hadn't grabbed you by the shoulders and blocked you from carrying on.

"Uh?" you looked at him as if you were just now seeing him. "Nothing, something at work, it's enraging." 

"Then please tell me so I can know who to kill," he replied in an equally angered tone. His hold on your shoulders tightened slightly at the thought someone had hurt you. 

You looked at him, surprised. "What, kill someone?" 

"Please, Y/n. I've never seen you like this. I don't know what happened, but for it to put you in that state, I'm guessing it's pretty serious." 

He had to pull it out of you, but you finally explained how you discovered one of your coworkers, who you considered a friend, was, in fact, a raging homophobic, queer-hating asshole. When you first heard him comment on someone else wearing a rainbow pin, you had laughed it off, thinking he was being dumb, but he kept adding on, and you realized, horrified, that he was being serious. 

Cherry on top, when you told him you were pansexual, he had stared at you with this idiotic air and asked if you were attracted to kitchen appliances. It ended up with you terminating that 'friendship' and leaving the office completely enraged. 

Your boyfriend listened carefully to your story. His piercing eyes set on you when he finally stated, "I have no idea how you managed not to smack him in the face." 

You let out a dry chuckle, telling the story again only egged you on, and brought up a familiar gloom you hadn't felt in a while. Immediately, he noticed the change in your demeanor, how the burning rage had simmered to a profound sadness. "Hey, it's okay, you can report the bastard, you know. He can't go around saying stuff like that."

You wrapped your arms around your middle, your lower lip softly shaking as you exhaled. "It's been a long time since I've been directly in contact with someone like that. I'm mad at myself for not seeing it maybe others knew, and they considered me badly for hanging out with him. I feel so bad."

He pulled you to him, softly resting his chin on top of your head. "Some people are really good at hiding who they truly are. He never said anything before, you never could have known."

"I know, but I somewhat feel like a traitor to my community," you covered your face with your hands before hiding in his chest. "Is that dumb?"  

He softly pushed you back and leveled his gaze with yours. "That is a little dumb because you did not betray your community, okay? You can't betray someone if you've also been fooled. And you know what's the best thing to do now? Report his ass. I'm sure if you do, there will be others who feel comfortable speaking up."

Your eyes lit up at his suggestion. "You're right. I want queer people to feel safe at work. The thought that I might have been seen as someone who would threaten that makes me sick. But if I speak up, that could change. Maybe we could even create a committee to do sensibilization about homophobia in the workplace." The gloom in your eyes was replaced with a fire. "One thing is sure, I won't let it happen again.

He gave you an adorable grin as he softly grabbed your chin. "My little fighter, I'm proud of you."

Your eyes disappeared into a happy smile as you hugged him again. "Thank you for always supporting me, although I am slightly scared of how little it took to convince you to kill someone." 

He laughed before grabbing you over his shoulder and whispered with a diabolical expression. "You shouldn't." 

Because really, there shouldn't be a doubt in your mind that this man was ready to make anyone who hurt you pay a terrible price. 

Bang Chan

The leader rubbed his hands on his face in an attempt to wipe away all the exhaustion. He looked back at his computer screen, feeling a violent cramp in his head causing his eyes to squeeze shut of their own accords. 

"Okay, okay. I get it. No more computer today."

He grabbed his phone before getting up, pleading his eyes to survive one last exposure to the light of a screen. He clicked on your name and quickly typed in, asking you what you wanted to eat for dinner but all signs of fatigue disappeared once he saw your answer. Worry replaced any feelings in his heart, his tired eyes fixed on the device.

What could have happened for you to be so down? He knew you were dealing with a difficult friend lately, but could it have gotten this bad so quickly? He wondered if he should push it, ask you more, but as his eyes started burning again he realized it would probably be of no help and he should wait for you to get home. Chan looked around the apartment, an uneasy feeling in his chest, a restlessness agitating his limbs. You were hurting and he couldn’t stay still, waiting for you to arrive. Then it clicked, he looked at your messages once again, closed the app and started dialing a number he was starting to know very well. As the line rang, a smirk slowly took place on his full lips.

You tiredly entered your apartment, welcomed with a delicious aroma. You kicked your boots off, more than ready to change into comfortable clothes and hug your boyfriend. 

Your heart melted at the sight waiting for you in the kitchen. Chan, his sleeve rolled up, showing his strong forearms, was very focused on the pots and pans burbling in front of him. He softly hummed to the soft jazz music playing in the background, completely oblivious to the world around him. You silently walked to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, loving how his strong back felt on your cheek through his clothes. 

"Jesus! You scared me," he whined, still, you could hear the smile in his voice as his hands wrapped around yours. "How are you?"

You didn't answer, feeling tears prickling your eyes and that burning sensation in your nose when you knew you were about to cry. You buried your face in his clothes, hoping it would muffle the sound of your sobs. 

"Y/n?" he quickly turned around, realizing you were far from okay. "Hey, baby what's going on?"

Violent sobs shook your body as you slid to the floor engulfed in Chan’s reassuring embrace, allowing you to let it all go. Once you calmed down enough to take a big breath, he asked again. "Baby, what happened?" 

Softly, he brushed his fingers through your hair. He was a calm and reassuring presence for you in all the chaos. You knew you could trust him, knew you could tell him anything and he would be there for you.

"You know my ´friend’, our relationship was already rocky, I knew that, but I thought it was getting better. When we studied together the other day, we talked so much, about anything and everything and even personal stuff. I thought we were getting over that petty argument, but today I heard them tell other people from my classes how I was faking my anxiety disorder and depression symptoms. They said I only did it to get attention and that I- I was an addict." Your voice broke on the last word, horrified that such words could have come out of their mouth.

Chan had to fight everything in him not to go after them right now. If there was one thing he despised it was when the ones he loved were hurt. He couldn't bear it. He knew how hard it had been for you to get a diagnosis and start taking medication. How could someone be heartless enough to make such comments? 

"I heard some of the people in the group defend me, but still... I can't believe it. I'm so stupid, I never should have told them about it."

"Y/n. You are not stupid. They are the assholes. You are not stupid for trusting someone you thought was a friend okay? I don't ever want you to think you are stupid for that."

You looked at him with teary eyes. He felt himself melt and soften, all anger disappearing when he realized how badly you needed him. "You are not stupid. You are not faking anything." he softly stroked your cheeks, wiping away the tears as he did. "I'm so proud of you for reaching out for help. I'm proud of you every damn day, and you know the people who really love you do too." You closed your eyes, relishing in his warm touch, allowing his soft voice to erase every doubt and fear. He softly kissed your forehead, "Okay?"

"Okay," you whispered. "Thank you I don't know what I would do without you."

"You would still do amazing because you are one of the strongest person I've ever met."

You chuckled at his comment. "You're so cheesy. Still, I'm pretty happy to have you." You lifted your head towards the stove. "Especially if you tell me you've been cooking for me." You took a deep breath in, finally registering what it was you were smelling. You looked back at him, already smiling, a look of surprise on your face. "Is- is that my mom’s… How, how did you do it?"

A proud and satisfied expression was printed on his features. "You wanted your mom’s spaghetti so I called and asked her to help me make it. Turns out the recipe isn’t that hard." He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear while you stared at him like he was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen, which he was.

"I can’t believe you did that. My mother has never told anyone her recipe!"

"Yeah, about that. I might have had to make a deal with her to get it…" You rolled your eyes, ready to hear some embarrassing stunt your mother pulled on your boyfriend. "I had to explain why I wanted the recipe, and she might have made me promise we’d go visit your family in two weeks while you’re on spring break."

You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck, asking him a thousand time if he was kidding, if this was really happening, while he promised over and over again it was. You pulled back to look at the satisfied smile growing on his lips. Chan was a sure value in your life, maybe the only true one, and as you looked at him, his dimpled smile and the satisfaction he had in preparing all this for you, you knew this was it. He was everything you would ever need.

[vettelsvee]

Hey, how's it going?I have been thinking, for me, Seb gives off a GREAT vibe of a big family guy, who has a big family with the person he loves, my opinion of course. Could you write something like this?

E a propósito, adoro tudo o que você escreve!!

ROADTRIP TO MONACO | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 2894

summary: seb and a pregnant y/n go and have a trip to monaco with their three little ones after seb's retirement

warnings: none, just mentions of pregnancy sickness as y/n is on her first term of her pregnancy! fluff, lots of fluff, and dad!seb

a/n: i love that seb. i actually love seb and oscar so much that the only thing i want to do is write about them. i'll be waiting your feedback, comments and requests please! and also, don't forget reblogs are truly appreciated (also, so close to 1k! tysm to you all because i most of the times feel surreal with all of this and how much you seem to enjoy my fics). also, anon: hope you like this!

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The soft melody of an alarm broke through the darkness of the bedroom Sebastian and you shared around one-thirty in the morning, interrupting the couple's deep sleep. Sebastian, still startled by the noise, managed to quickly stretch his arm to turn off the alarm in an attempt to fully wake up. Meanwhile, you rubbed your eyes, fighting against the tiredness.

"Is it already time to get up, sunshine?" you asked sleepily.

"Yes, darling, it's time," Seb nodded as he sat up in bed. "If we want to get to Monaco on time and avoid Charles from killing us. We should leave in about an hour and a half."

You yawned, curling up under the blankets.

"But it's too early, love… Don't you think we could, and should, sleep a little longer?"

Sebastian approached you and gently stroked your hair. He was aware that the fourth pregnancy was being a bit challenging for you compared to the previous three, despite being only in the second month.

If fatigue, nausea and dizziness were making life difficult for you at the moment, he didn't want to imagine how you would feel four months from now.

"Y/N, sweetheart, don't worry. Let me be in charge of waking up the kids and getting everything ready. You stay here and rest a little longer, okay? I promise I'll let you know when everything is ready so you only have to get in the car."

You looked at him with a tired but grateful expression. Still, you knew you had to help prepare the final details of the trip, and most importantly, make sure the kids were perfectly ready..

"Are you sure? I don't want you to take on all the work, really," you expressed with concern in your voice. "Even though I'm tired, I can help you..."

"I'm absolutely sure, darling," the man interrupted, smiling and giving you a warm kiss on the forehead. "These are the kinds of things I retired for, so focus on going back to sleep, alright? I'll see you in a bit, liebe."

"Sebastian…" you spoke again. "I'm really serious: we're in this together, and I don't want you to handle everything alone. It's a family trip, not a trip of Seb with his three kids. I want to help."

He admired your determination, but he wanted you to be treated as you deserved.

"I know, Y/N," he explained, "but I also know how tired you are. Really, allow yourself not to worry about your kids for once. I promise I'll wake you up soon enough so you can get ready."

You nodded, trying to avoid continuing the conversation and settling back into bed, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without thinking about how long your husband might take to prepare your kids.

Meanwhile, Sebastian left the room with determination and headed towards the children's rooms. Emily, Charlotte and Matilda slept all in different rooms, so he went from door to door, opening them gently and affectionately, and then approaching each bed.

He first woke up Charlotte, the middle one, who rubbed her eyes and looked at her father, confused.

"Dad, what's going on?" she asked, puzzled. "Did you have a nightmare and want to sleep with me? Or is mom having the baby?"

"No, no," Sebastian chuckled at his seven-year-old daughter's antics. "It's time to wake up. Remember we're going to Monaco today."

The little girl's eyes lit up immediately.

"Yes, that's right! We're going to your old workplace!"

After letting her fully wake up, the head of the family went to the room of the youngest, Matilda, who was four years old.

"Matilda, wake up, honey," whispered Vettel, giving her a gentle tap on her shoulder. "We have an exciting day ahead. We're going to see those fast cars daddy used to drive."

The youngest Vettel lazily stretched in his small bed and yawned. Sebastian then smiled, picking her up while she just wanted to hug Seb. 

"That's what I like to see, little one," he commented, tousling her hair. "Let me dress you so mom doesn't have to worry too much, okay?"

Both the children and Sebastian hurried to get ready. There was no doubt that, despite the sleepiness, the family was full of energy and excitement for what awaited them in the country about seven hours from their residence.

After also waking up Emily, your eldest, and making sure all of them were ready, Seb put cartoons on the living room TV to keep the children entertained and returned to his room, where you were still resting, seemingly peacefully asleep.

"Honey, the kids are ready. They're waiting for us in the living room. Are you feeling better?" he whispered as softly as he could, gently stroking your arm.

You opened her eyes and sat up in bed, stretching aggressively. “Thank you so much for getting our little devils ready, I owe you one."

He tenderly kissed you on the lips.

"You don't owe me anything, you did enough effort to bring them into the world and act as both father and mother when I wasn't around. Let me help you get ready, we have a great day ahead."

Quickly, Seb helped you change you clothes, gently touching your small but already slightly prominent pregnant belly. Once you were finally dressed in sportswear for comfort, you both walked hand in hand out of the room and headed to the living room, where your children were already waiting impatiently.

After making sure everything was ready and the kids had no further needs, you all headed to the garage, quickly getting into the family car. While Sebastian made sure the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk, you took care of buckling the children up and offering them a few games or movies to keep them entertained on the way, although you were quite aware they would end up asleep.

"Are you all ready?" you inquired, turning around from the passenger seat and looking at her children with a smile as Seb began to start the car.

"Yes, mommy, let's go!" exclaimed little Matilda, who received cheers from her sisters.

With the car's engine purring softly, they set off on the Swiss roads amidst the darkness of the night, which, despite being synonymous with tiredness, brought a surge of energy to the youngest members of the family, where conversations and plans for Monaco came to the forefront.

"Do you think grandpa Norbert is going to come, Dad? I heard you talking to him the other day," exclaimed Charlotte, once again showing her admiration for Sebastian's sister. "Is grandma Heike coming too?"

"I want to hear the loud noises of the cars and see how fast they go," Emily added immediately, excited.

Sebastian smiled as he drove, very happy to hear the excitement of his children and, especially, to be sharing such an experience with you all not only after his retirement.

As the hours went by, tiredness arrived, and the children fell asleep. Quite the opposite happened with you: you woke up when you no longer heard the sudden conversations between the siblings. As you progressed along the winding roads and approached Monegasque territory, the sky began to lighten, giving them a beautiful sunrise.

"Look, honey, the sun is rising," you commented to Seb, pointing to the horizon stained with warm colors. "I can't believe we're finally arriving in Monaco after weeks of waiting..."

After a couple more hours of driving, and lively conversation among the family resulting from a brief stop for breakfast and in your case, vomiting a couple of times, you arrived in Monaco. The city looked completely different from any other time of the year as the streets were adorned with flags and banners for the Grand Prix. Furthermore, the grandstands, the paddock, and the countless yachts docked in the harbor made Monte Carlo seem even richer than it already was.

"We're here, guys," Sebastian announced to his children sweetly. "If you need something, just make sure to tell me, alright?”

Seb parked the Mercedes in a parking lot reserved for VIP guests, and then got out of the car to help you. He made then a phone call, possibly to Leclerc, your kids began to stroke your belly. You reacted early and quickly moved them away, aware that journalists and paparazzi could discover the secret.

"Let's follow dad, guys," you whispered to them, getting down to their level. "And remember: no one, not Uncle Charles or anyone who asks you, can know that dad and I have made a little baby, okay?"

The children nodded in response to your question, which somewhat reassured you were still nervous. However, the excitement began to set in as you walked alongside your kids, following Seb towards the place where the free practice sessions would take place, partially pushing aside your worries. The sound of the engines grew louder with each step you took, with the youngest of the family covering her ears with his little hands.

"Look, mommy: there's the Ferrari team!" exclaimed Emily pointing towards the red team's garage.

Charles appeared in his racing suit, as Free Practice was set to begin in just thirty minutes.

As soon as he spotted your husband, who was slightly ahead of all of you, he raised his arms in the air with great joy at seeing him again on the circuits, a wide smile adorning his face.

"Charles!" exclaimed Seb when he finally reached the Monegasque, giving him a strong hug. "Thank you so much for inviting us. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. The kids are very excited to be here, and especially to see you."

Leclerc returned the hug to the German, reminiscing about the two years they were teammates.

"You don't have to thank me, Seb," replied the Ferrari driver. "I'm sure Emily and Charlie remember something, but I know it's all new for Matilda. Anyway, I'm sure they'll enjoy it like the first time, just like Y/N!"

As the conversation continued between the two men, you and the kids surrounded the Ferrari driver, who felt a bit shy seeing the children's excited faces.

"Thank you, Charles," you expressed with your little ones embracing you somewhat shyly. "We're very grateful that you made it possible for us to come," you leaned closer to the Monegasque and whispered: "and don't tell anyone, but despite Ferrari's shitty strategies, you're doing great."

After a few minutes of conversation catching up on your respective live, and where Seb almost revealed you were expecting your fourth child, Charlotte, Emily and Matilda crowded around Charles, excited to see their father's former teammate again. Despite the constant denials from the team engineers, he managed to let your kids have a close look at his car.

"Look," said Charles, excitedly, pointing to the vehicle, "this is the car I'll be practicing with today, and that's my teammate's, Carlos," he pointed to the car beside it. "What do you think?"

The children's eyes widened with passion as they began to examine the car closely.

"Can we touch it, Uncle Charles?" asked the four-year-old, grabbing Leclerc's race suit pants.

Charles smiled, nodding enthusiastically, inwardly melting at the scene he was witnessing. He wished he could see himself like that with Olivia in a few years.

"Of course, but do it quickly so you father doesn’t get fined again," he said jokingly.

While the kids explored the car, and after you joined them shortly after, Charles and Seb began to converse animatedly yet seriously about the expectations for the Grand Prix and the sensations he had so far in the 2024 Formula 1 season.

The sudden hustle in the Ferrari garage made it clear that Free Practice 1 was about to begin. Sebastian and Charles had their conversation interrupted when Leclerc's beloved engineer insisted he get into the car as soon as possible. It was finally time for you to head to the corresponding grandstand to enjoy the practice session.

The Monegasque was forced, much to his regret, to interrupt his conversation with the your husband. Seb, however, understood, and immediately turned to you all, who were eagerly waiting to go to the best spot to watch the cars go around.

"Come with me, kids," notedhim, "it's time to go up to the VIP grandstand to get a better view of the session."

Taking Matilda in his arms, holding his daughters' hands with his free hand, and with you on his left, you all formed a little chain to avoid getting lost in the commotion on you way to the designated spot.

You were moved by the scene you were witnessing. Holding onto Seb's free arm, you tried to control your tears as your followed your husband's lead.

Minutes later, you had found your reserved seats, but numerous fans who had recognized Seb had delayed him. You were used to this, as were your kids. Moreover, none of your minded as they were aware that Seb had done great things for and in the world of motorsport.

“Look dad!”, exclaimed Emily excitedly as her father sat down next to her, “That's Charles! He's going really fast!”

"Yes, he's going fast indeed, Emily," Seb answered, still in shock at what he was witnessing after many time.

As the practice hour progressed, you captured some moments of the family with your camera, all of them fully caught up in the energy emanating from the circuit at that moment. The applause and words of encouragement, though impossible to hear for the drivers, were felt as the local hero made his appearance on the track.

When it came to an end, faster than they thought, you all made your way back to the Ferrari garage, where Charles had promised to meet his former teammate after the session.

Once there, you saw the blue-eyed with his girlfriend, Alexandra, engaged in lively conversation, likely about what had happened on the track during the previous hour. Charles, upon seeing Sebastian with you at the garage door, hurried over as fast as he could.

"Seb, I thought you'd be gone!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I didn't get to see you: you know, speed problems," he laughed at his own bad joke, "but I'm sure you had a good time, and your amazing wife and kids did too, right?"

Matilda and Charlotte shouted in unison. You and Emily nodded quickly.

"I'm really impressed, Charles," Vettel said enthusiastically. "Apart from the track being in wonderful condition, the weather cooperating, and not having too many idiots running around today, your performance has been incredible."

Alex joined the conversation, greeting your and the kids first, and then Seb.

"It's been wonderful seeing you in the stands. I wish I didn't have to stay locked up in the garage all day, but there are these crazy Charles fangirls out there..." she joked.

You laughed at the comment. If she only knew all that you had to go through in the early years of your relationship with Seb…

"Anyways…" Leclerc began, placing his arm around his girlfriend's waist. "Alex and I have been talking these past few days and we'd like to ask you if you'd like to join us for dinner tonight. It would be nice for us to spend some time together, just relaxing, and celebrate that you've finally come back around here," he explained, looking directly at your husband.

"But really, if it's any inconvenience for you," she hurried to add, "or if you need to head back home or..."

Sebastian looked at you, who nodded excitedly at the proposal.

"It would be an honor, Charles."

After exchanging details for the dinner, they bid farewell momentarily due to Leclerc's press commitments. During that time, you returned to the hotel where you would stay for a couple of days to freshen up and prepare for dinner, as managing three children wasn't an easy or simple task.

When you met again, this time at the restaurant, you were warmly welcomed by its members. Dinner unfolded amid laughter and lively conversations, mostly revolving around Formula 1 anecdotes and your private lives.

As the night progressed, Seb and Charles delved into deeper topics about the world that absorbed so much of their lives. Alex and you, on the other hand, got to know each other more and realized they had more in common than you initially thought.

The children, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives: Charlie, Emily, and Matilda, who fell asleep early, spent the night playing games with the young couple, who still seemed like kids in your eyes.

"I hope you've enjoyed the day, guys," Charles said, raising his glass of wine. "I hope we can enjoy many more moments together, especially when the little one comes because, Y/N, I know there’s a reason why you’re not drinking alcohol when you like wine so much."

"Cheers!" you all exclaimed while you tried not to get nervous and more shy than you actually were, laughing at the revealed secret. 

As you continued to enjoy the delicious food, along with the laughter and entertaining stories, you knew that trip to Monaco would become a cherished memory in the years to come. There was no doubt you should definitely do this more often and, above all, around the world if given the chance, something you had been waiting for years.

[goingmerryfics]

Sitting in their lap while they’re not paying attention - w/ Law, Luffy, & Kid

Content: Gender neutral reader

Notes* Thinking about doing a NSFW part of this.. perhaps..

Part 1 2 3 4

Law

Sure, he’s not paying attention at the moment. But years of dealing with Penguin and Shachi’s antics have made him hyper aware to anyone’s bullshittery

Usually, as soon as anyone would start to inch towards him, he’d look up from whatever he was doing and warn the person to knock off whatever they were planning and pay attention

But this time, the combination of being exhausted from more lack of sleep than usual and being so passionate about the subject matter he was trying to relay to you, you managed to pull it off

Slowly, you inched towards him as he rambled on, lowered yourself into his lap, and he didn’t even flinch. All he did was move the research paper he was reading off of so he could still see it

You were seated comfortably, sideways across his lap, one arm around his shoulders to keep you steady. Success.

His free hand rests on your back as he continues. He doesn’t notice for a few seconds more, until he glances towards you for a moment

He freezes. His words cut off, and he starts to quickly go red

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You don’t see him complaining, though

He demands for you to get off of him and quite messing around, but he won’t make a move to push you off. Nor do you feel his hand move off of your back

You tell him to go on, that you’re still listening

He’s too tired to fight with you and, truthfully, he wants to call you on your bluff

So he continues to explain his medical research to you, stopping every now and then to quiz you and ask you something about what he’d just read, or about your own theories

It’s actually a very insightful conversation, and he’s kind of pissed about it

Why do you focus better when you’re being a menace?

Once he’s through though, he does start to gently shove you off

“Alright, get out. I have things to do.”

As soon as you’re gone he leans back and lets out a hefty sigh

You’ll kill him with your antics one day

Luffy

Don’t try it during a meal. Yeah, it’s one of the only times this ball of energy is seated and not bouncing around, but he will shove you away and continue stuffing his face

Best time to try this is when he’s settling down for the day, about to head off to bed

Especially because he’s even more cuddly than usual when he’s ready to sleep

He’ll be hanging out in the boy’s cabin when you enter, they’re all chatting and laughing about something from the last island they stopped at, and the only person that really pays attention when you head straight for Luffy’s lap is Zoro, because nothing gets past him

Sanji doesn’t notice until you’re already in his lap, and he cooes at you to come sit in his lap instead

“What? No! They chose me! Get your own person!”

Luffy’s arms extend and wrap around you a couple times, effectively trapping you there with him, no way to move your arms or anything lower than your shoulders. Not that you mind, of course

Luffy’s always been extra affectionate, whether his intention be platonically or romantically. Hugging, kissing people’s cheeks, holding hands, the works

He pulls you right up to his chest and continues the conversation, your face comfortably resting on him

You can feel the vibration of his chest when he laughs

He’s warm. It’s comforting

If you thought this was a short-term deal, you’d be wrong. He doesn’t want to let you go now that he has your comfort, and you’ll stay in his arms well into the night

At least he pulls up a blanket when he notices you starting to fall asleep

“Aw, already dozing off? But we were having so much fun!”

He doesn’t try to keep you awake, though. You fall asleep against his chest, and sleep peacefully into morning

Kid

There are only two ways you’re going to be able to do this

Either he is truly distracted, or you think he’s distracted and he notices, but he’s just amused to watch you do it

In the first scenario, he would be at his workstation, fixing up his arm. Making some adjustments after noticing that it’s getting a bit loose in places

As long as everything is going the way he needs it to- fixing something is difficult with one arm -he’ll be calm enough not to completely toss you for trying to distract him

Keep talking to him and he won’t notice. He can only focus on so much

You let him know that you brought him a snack and something to drink, and he grunts in response. Good, he’s got all his attention in one spot

You put the plate and the cup down somewhere that Kid will be able to reach it but not knock it over accidentally, and quickly slide into his lap while going off about some updates on what the crew is up to in his absence

He shifts where he needs to so he can keep working without you in the way, which ends up with you facing him, gripping his shoulders to keep you steady

The minute you have nothing more to say, he very suddenly starts to shout

“The hell do ya think you’re doing, idiot!?”

Hop off and run for your life, because he tosses his whole arm your way while blushing as bright as his hair

On the other hand, if you crawl into his lap while and he notices, he won’t speak a word but he’ll watch your every move

You think you’ve gotten away with it

You ramble on and on about whatever comes to mind, but short by a pair of large hands around your waist and his breath tickling your neck

You stumble over your words, blush rising to your cheeks

“Go on, you wanted my attention, right? I’m listening.”

He makes it a tradition that you have to come sit in his lap for your daily reports. he loves seeing your flustered face as you try to remember all the information you needed to tell him, directly to his stupid, smug face

[cheshirebitch]

Alastor with a 1950’s housewife styled reader. When he sees her he doesn’t even understand why she’s in hell in the first place.

!!Mentions of domestic violence!!

She killed her husband for laying a hand on their child. She was slow and methodical with her kill, and when Alastor finds out he becomes enraptured by her. In awe of how proper and kind she is but how devastatingly cruel she can be if the circumstance calls for it.

He finds her duality alluring in a sense, and he’s so curious to see what fresh hell she’d let loose in hell if she decided to unleash herself upon some poor sinners.

This is my first request in a long time and I’m super tired so I hope this makes sense 😅

Oh boy, oh boy, did I love this idea and I hope I did you justice on it :)!

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕤

Alastor x Reader

“Alastor, dear, can you do me a favor?” I asked while smoothing my dress out nervously.

“Of course darling! What can I do for you my Angel?” Alastor started calling me that the day he met me. He was adamant that heaven messed up or I was a fallen angel for being too good. Every time he would go on one of his long stipples, I would have to keep my lips tight and calm my beating heart for two reasons. He really was too sweet to me and because I never want anyone to know my ugly truth. Not that I’m ashamed but because I don’t need everyone hunting down the man, especially considering he was alive and well in hell with me. I think he suffered considerably for his actions and I didn’t need the whole hotel, that was supposed to be a walking advertisement about redemption, trying to murder this man. Especially Alastor, he would be completely unforgiving.

He was always so polite when it concerned me and always had a compliment to throw my way.

“Mon Cher, looking elegant as always.”

“Darling, do smile more often. Hell would be much better with your sparkling smile.”

“What’s a looker like you doing at the bar by yourself? Care for company Angel?”

“Mon Cher,

“Would you be so kind to help me make dinner today? I truly didn’t expect the King of Hell to be visiting or I could’ve handled it on my own.” Exasperated that Charlie failed to mention, again, about her fathers visit. I rather not have him thinking an old housewife, such as myself, failed to uphold the standards I was raised with. This place will be spotless and perfect in two hours by my own hand, if Alastor agrees to assist me. I always batted his hands away when he’s tried before, being conditioned that all this work is only my job. My ex husband made sure I learned that too.

“Absolutely! Anything for my sweet Angel! Are you certain there is nothing else I can assist you with? Perhaps some cleaning, laundry, anything?” Alastor was leaning in towards my personal space as I pushed a finger over his massive smile. He truly is a pure gentleman despite his horrific sins he’s committed. Maybe that’s why I’m so attracted to him?

“Oh, no. Just some help in the kitchen will be fine. I just need someone to watch over the meal as it cooks so it doesn’t burn while I clean the rest of this hotel.” I smiled at him as polite as I could while trying not to tremble over the simple act of asking for help. It’s always involuntary when I flinch at a man, so much so that I’ve overheard conversations about it from the group. Charlie and Angel express their concerns to me but the rest just watch with pity in their eyes.

“Angel, certainly there is more I can do?” He gave me his smile still, slightly strained, but concern and a small hint of frustration were in those burgundy eyes. I pretended to think on it before shaking my head.

“That simply won’t do. I will handle all kitchen duties and you can clean. Don’t try to stop me.” Alastor morphed through the shadows as I raced to beat him to the kitchen, only to be met with a locked door. I huffed before giving in, but only because I was on a tight schedule. Fighting with Alastor’s stubbornness was at the bottom of my list and making sure this place was spiffy was at the top. So, I raced around on the lobby floor, cleaning everything and everything. I couldn’t help but notice how Alastor was trying to slyly send his shadow and Niffty to help. Ignoring them on purpose, faking ignorance for his sake, and kept cleaning at my full speed.

By the time I noticed there was nothing left to do, I was out of breath and was done one hour earlier than I thought I would be. That was also considering how I had two extra sets of helping hands plus the fact I didn’t have to check the kitchen at all. I smiled as I panted out, wiping the sweat from my brow. I sauntered into the kitchen, now with unlocked doors, and had my hands on my hips as I watched Alastor finish cooking everything I had laid out. I had a bandana on to keep my hair pulled up and stop the sweat from running down my neck. It was the pretty maroon and black one Alastor gave me the first year I knew him.

“Lovely to see you using the things I get you.” Without even turning around, he knew what I was wearing and didn’t degrade me for not completing these tasks completely on my own or faster. The smile spread on my face as I began to tease back.

“Always lovely to see you cooking. Don’t think I don’t see that tail wagging happily, deer.” I emphasized on his nickname being used more so as what animal he was. His ears twitched as he turned around with a playful grin. My tail whipped around behind me, showing I was teasing him playfully. He leaned closer, invading my personal space again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Angel. I’m just helping a deer friend out.” He chuckled at his own pun, making me smile and nudge him. This is what normally happens when one of us tells a joke, it turns into a pun war. Right now though, I guess it was deer themed with a hint of good tension between us. He had us switching places, where I was the one with the counter behind me and he with nothing. Walking closer and closer, getting more into eachothers spaces with no complaints. Which of itself, others would find quite odd how Alastor wasn’t upset by myself being this close to him.

“That pun wasn’t one of your best. Dare I say, I wasn’t too fawn of that one.” His smile widened with genuine happiness without anything evil being the cause of it. It really was beautiful. I couldn’t help but morph my smile from a playful one to a genuine smile as well, full of admiration. I could even feel my eyes basically forming heart shapes for him.

“Angel?” His eyes looked relaxed along with his smile, he was still leaning so close to me I could feel his coat tickling my skin.

“Yes, deer?” He smiled more before continuing.

“How are you in Hell? Really?” My smile froze as I panicked slightly. He was someone I could see hunting my ex husband down and brutally killing for what he’s done, especially towards me and my family. My hands moved before I could stop them, gripping his with mine. His eyes looked confused at our hands before looking at me, waiting for what it was.

“Promise me, Al, that you’ll let it go after I tell you.” His eyes searched mine before he sighed out.

“You know I can’t promise that, my Angel.” One of his claws carefully brushed my cheek slowly. He started moving slower with his movements when they were towards me after noticing how I flinched. The bright red claws remained on my face as I looked away, defeated.

“It wasn’t always horrible with him, my late husband and father of my two beautiful girls.” I smiled as I mentioned my children, who have long lived their lives after my death, and both in heaven.

“But after a couple years when my youngest turned four, Paul wasn’t the same. He was laid off from his fancy office job and started drinking when he couldn’t find work. We had to sell our home and move. I started working at a couple diners and cleaning for a couple homes, anything to make the bills.” My smile turned sad as Alastor’s turned strained the second I spoke of alcohol. His grip tightened slightly but never enough to hurt me.

“He would get angry when I came home late, how the house was a mess, when the children got fussy, and just anything that involved work for him. That’s when I got tired and mouthed off.” Alastor’s upper lip curled in disgust at what was about to be spoken next.

“He didn’t like that, slapped me back in place.” Alastor’s eyes squinted.

“I think you’re downplaying it, Angel.” I sheepishly grin, knowing he’s right.

“A little.”

“Tell the truth now, darling.”

“He beat me till I couldn’t stand anymore. I tried fighting back but…” I shook my head and felt my eyes burning.

“I was just a silly housewife.” He took his claw and gently swiped away a fallen tear. It was the only tear I will let fall.

“I only said enough when he went to hit the oldest for trying to pull him off of me.” Tension was rising up my spine and locking my jaw tight. Alastor’s radio static picked up even more the second I spoke that sentence. I could feel his anger radiating from him.

“I hated him for it, so much so I killed him.” I looked up at Alastor right when his eyes dilated, recognizing the shock and admiration that was swirling in his eyes. His smile spread out across his face more as the radio static cut silent, then he spoke without any static in his voice.

“My, my, what have we got here? Dare I say my Angel is really a demon after all?” I could tell he said it with slight humor, still thinking I’m too pure to be in hell.

“I poisoned him for months with rat poisoning in his alcohol. He chose his own death, I just sped it up. Everyone thought he died of alcohol poisoning but it was me. I’d do it again if it meant my kids never had to see that ever again. He could’ve lived if he just chose his family over the alcohol.” I shrugged with no remorse for my actions.

“While he was getting more and more ill, I would watch from the doorway of our bedroom, where he slept. Just holding a kitchen knife and sharpening it, watching him sleep horribly.” Alastor smiled wider, wider than I thought possible really, and dipped me down gracefully. His arm behind my back holding me completely as his other hand delicately glided his ruby claw down my cheek.

“Mon Cher, penser que je ne pourrais pas t'aimer davantage.” **

Alastor was immediately thinking about how he’d worship her forever and was intrigued to see what fresh hell she would unleash by his side with this daunting loyalty and protective spirit. He also took note to pay a visit to dear ol’ Paul, the current bartender that replaced Husk at the casino in town.

** translation - “My dear, to think that I couldn’t love you more.”

(As always, characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over :)! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! Thank you for the love and have a great day! <3)

[rachalixie]

forgive me for what i haven't done

summary: you arrive at your enemy's kingdom under the guise of making peace. the prince being nice to you wasn't part of the plan.

genre: strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort

warnings: she/her reader, reader's father is emotionally manipulative and physically harms her, mentions of violence

word count: 17.5k

a/n: absolute massive thank you to @sulfurcosmos, @isilentprincess, and @woahfruity for reading this through and giving me your honest feedback. i truly appreciate you <3 this fic has sent me through the five stages of grief.

you can’t ignore the bruising grip your father has on your arm as he walks you to the steps of the large palace. the journey here was a mere two hours, but it feels like this palace was built out of another world altogether. it’s shorter than your own, absent are the dull reaching peaks and towers of your home, traded for warm bricks covered in snaking ivy and the shining sun peeking through powdery clouds. where it lacks in height, it makes up for in its expanse. the building was wider than any you’ve ever seen. 

it was more beautiful than any building you’ve ever seen, too. 

you hope your nerves don’t show as you throw one last glance back at the carriage you arrived in; it would soon take away your handmaidens that had made the journey with you, and you wouldn’t see them again until you went home. it makes your heart ache that the only people you felt comfortable with were leaving you behind. you try and focus on the present instead, knowing that wallowing in self-pity would get you nowhere. you had hours of meeting strangers ahead of you, making polite small talk with them and learning whatever information you could about the royal family until you could go to bed and be upset in private. you weren’t here for pleasure anyways, your father had reminded you as the carriage had pulled in. you were here for a reason.

the first person you make eyes with is the king, a kind looking man, hair and beard speckled with gray and a soft smile on his face as he takes in his visitors. he had invited you and your father here, a gesture of goodwill, an unspoken plea for peace between your two kingdoms. 

“they want peace,” your father had scoffed, throwing the letter from the neighboring king to his desk. you watched as it slid off and fluttered to the floor. “the scum that killed your grandfather want peace, and they dare ask me to negotiate a treaty with them.”

“well,” you started, swallowing down your nerves like you did every time you spoke to your father. since your mother passed, all those years ago, you had taken over the role of his confidant, like he did with her. though, he never listened to your advice when you gave it; you were simply a body for him to talk at, to pour out his grief and frustration out on. “did the king not overthrow his own father? he is not the man that hurt our family, and i assume neither are his sons. can we not let the past stay in the past?”

the two kingdoms are small - a unity between you would open opportunities for new trading, allies in battle, new paths to resources that your people don’t see.

“their bloodline is rotten,” he says, definitive. “i would be doing the world a service by ridding it of their pitiful existence.”

his words of extremity did not surprise you; he spoke of all of the neighboring kingdoms in this way. he was not one for alliances, keeping the borders of his territory locked to outsiders, deeming them not fit to enter his kingdom. you can barely remember a time when foreigners or immigrants inhabited the now barren lands.

“and the people in their kingdom?” you question. “they are truly innocent. will they be given refuge here once their kingdom has fallen?”

“i do not care!” he spits out at you, eyes burning in anger, and you shrink back a little. “they will burn along with their miserable rulers. i will find a way to take them down, all of them, to make them pay for what they did to my family. and you, gods help me, will do as i say.”

and you would. in truth, you had barely even considered going against him. you were alone, you had no options other than following through with his wishes, no escape from him and his cruelty. you had nowhere to go that he would not find you. and yet, he remained vexed as he moved closer to you, speaking quietly in a manner that was more terrifying than if he was yelling at you. his fingers curl around your upper arm, like a warning-

“welcome,” the king’s voice breaks you out of your memory, and you muster up a smile for him. “thank you for making the journey here. and please, call me stephen. you are esteemed guests here, no need for formalities.”

your father doesn’t offer the same notion back, nodding coldly at your side. king stephen furrows his brow for a moment, and it’s clear on his face that he’s caught off guard. so expressive for a royal, you muse as he shakes his head and the smile returns to his face.

“my sons,” stephen gestures to the boys standing by his side, the ones you had yet to lay your eyes on. “crowned prince christopher, his betrothed, the lady roseanne, and our youngest, felix.”

betrothed? you did not know the older son was engaged. this complicates things. you can feel the anger coming off in waves from your father, and you place your hand on his forearm for a moment. not now, please, you mentally beg, and you almost sigh in relief when the tension leaves his body, turning your attention to the two royals in front of you.

the taller of the two dons a mop of curly hair under his circlet, cleanly pressed clothes shining with the royal blue of their family. a striking woman is at his side, an arm loosely curled around his. as he moves forward to greet your father, linking arms like the king had, your attention is drawn to the boy left standing alone. 

the shorter boy is what you can only describe as ethereal. his features are sharp in all the right places, smoothed out by soft planes and dips covered in starlight scattered freckles. his clothes are similar to that of his brother’s, but no crown adorns his head. 

he might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. it makes your knees weak. 

“i am felix,” he says, his voice deeper than you would expect from the gentle features of his face. he dips his head a bit, a sign of respect, as he takes your hand and presses a gentle kiss to the back of it. your voice is steady when you respond with your own name, and you’re glad for it. 

his attention is diverted when your father’s hand lands on your shoulder, his touch more gentle than it ever is whilst away from prying eyes. 

“my daughter, princess y/n,” he announces, a proud smug on his face when you shyly curtsey. he must think your timidness is a ploy to get their trust, and not as a result of the raging nervousness boiling under your skin. 

“it’s an honor to meet you, your highnesses,” you meet each of their eyes, looking for any sign of malice, but you find none.

“come inside, please,” the king beckons, and the circle of knights that had been flanking him move aside gracefully to make way to the tall archway leading inside the palace. you’re once again taken away by the beautiful architecture inside, melting candles lining the walls made of warm brick. “we will begin the peace talks tomorrow, spend the day settling from your journey.”

“we will go freshen up,” your father states, cutting your exploration short with a poorly concealed fake smile donning his face. you hope no one else can see through him the way you can. “and we will meet you for dinner?”

he doesn’t wait until the king answers before he pulls you off to a hallway, beckoning over a servant and barking at him to show you both to your chambers. you pray to the gods that your hosts see your father’s unorthodox behavior as a difference in customs, rather than rudeness. the servant looks flustered, eyes wide as he directs you to your adjoined chambers, and you almost feel bad for him. you’re sure he can tell when your father’s anger returns, getting stronger the further you walk from the royal family, and you keep your head bowed until the two of you are behind closed doors. 

he lets go of your arm harshly, almost throwing you off of him in his haste and if you weren’t so afraid you would remind him that he probably shouldn’t yell as you’re sure he was about to do.

“he is engaged?” he growls out, teeth gritted together in fury. “this was not in the intel that i was given. this does not fit into our plan!”

his plan was for you to woo the prince, get him to fall in love with you, and then to kill his father and take the throne. nevermind the extensive gaps that he didn’t care to think out, that you weren’t brave enough to tell him about. the thought of the prince not going along with the neighboring king taking over his kingdom never crossed his mind; it was either extreme hubris or immense stupidity on his part. perhaps it was both.

“will i have to marry him? the prince?” you asked, avoiding his eyes. you kept your voice as leveled as you could, but you couldn’t completely mask the apprehension you were feeling.

“you will do whatever is necessary to gain his trust. if the boy proposes, you will accept.” he said, clinical and cold like he wasn’t gambling with your life. if your father was correct, these men were murderers, men who killed others in cold blood. what would the prince do if he discovered your father’s plan? how long was he expecting you to keep up this charade?

“control yourself,” he says when he takes in the tears pricking at your eyes, the wobbling of your lips as the gravity of his words sink in. “those of our class do not weep so easily.”

“what do we do now?” you ask, regretting it almost immediately when his anger turns towards you. you had wished, foolishly so, that he may forget this revenge-fueled nonsense and let you go home. 

“i do not know, stupid girl. why do you not think of something instead of having me do everything for you?” you pray that no servants were listening in through the door, and no knights were making their patrol past the hallway. with how loud he’s speaking, there would be no hiding his ill intentions. “i thank the gods you were born a woman and i can marry you off. with how useless you are, there would be no helping my kingdom with you as a ruler.”

the words sting, your heart aches at the cold insult he’s thrown at you, but it’s not the first time he’s said something like this. it’s at the tip of your tongue to tell him that this wasn’t even your plan, that you didn’t want to betray this kingdom in the first place, that you’re tired of being his pawn in a game only he wants to play. you want to tell him that you would be a better ruler than he is if given the chance, that you almost hope for the day that he keels over and dies because you would be free of him. but you’ve learned to hold your tongue in times like this, knowing that he only says these things out of frustration; flashes of the kind man he used to be when you were younger play through your mind, calming you down as you scramble for some kind of answer. 

“i will go after the younger one,” you start, a half-baked plan forming in your head. “if king stephen and christopher are out of the way, he is next in line for the throne, is he not? we just have a couple more people to get out of the way. befriend the king, distract him and make him trust you. i will handle the prince.”

you disappointed yourself by expecting some kind of verbal affirmation, some kind of praise for doing something right, but all you get from your father is a curt nod and a gesture to leave his chambers.

a nod was better than nothing. a nod was silent assurance that you were doing something right, that he was wrong about you. that you could think for yourself. 

when you enter the hallway, you catch a glimpse of the servant from earlier peeking around the corridor. you smile at him, hoping that he had heard nothing and that your face didn’t betray the whirlwind of emotions clouding around in your head. he simply smiles back, foxy eyes crinkling and he nods at you before disappearing. 

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

dinner was an incredibly awkward affair; all throughout the meal, you couldn’t avoid meeting eyes with felix from where he was sitting across from you, and you flushed and looked away every time. his eyes were striking, soft browns highlighted with specks of gold reflected from the candlelight. this was the boy you were supposed to woo and manipulate, and you couldn’t even meet his eyes. gods help you.

you weren’t sure if your hosts could sense the concealed hostility in your father’s voice, but you could. he was doing a poor job of hiding his apathy, answering king stephen’s questions with short words or grunts. he eyed his food with judgment and took hesitant bites, even though you thought it was exceptionally made.

even the banquet hall itself was remarkable, banners of blue and gold hanging from the tall ceilings and plants of various kinds lining the walls. light shone down from the high windows, bathing the royals in front of you in a golden light.

“is the food not to your liking?” king stephen asked, a small frown gracing his features when he saw your father’s mostly full plate. 

“this is amazing, like nothing i have ever tasted before,” you voiced, directing the attention to yourself. your own plate was nearly scraped clean, and you might have licked it to savor the flavors if you didn’t have your royal dignity to uphold. 

your heart pounded in your chest from addressing the king so directly. 

“good, i am glad,” stephen smiled warmly at you, quelling your nerves, and his smile reached his eyes in a way your father’s hadn’t for years. “i shall make sure to send your compliments to our main cook, he was worried that the meal would not suit our guests’ tastes.”

“minho worries too much,” christopher laughs, meeting eyes with his fiancée. the way he looks at her sends warmth up your spine, like you’re witnessing kindling sparkling into a burning flame. “his cooking is the best in the entire kingdom.”

it might have turned you off that he was boasting like that if it wasn’t about someone whose status was below his. a crowned prince, giving compliments like that to a palace worker? kitchen staff, at that? it was different, for sure. 

the thought stuck with you for the rest of the night, even as your head hit your pillow at night. though you weren’t so naive to think that first impressions were indicative of their entire nature, it seems that the image of this royal family that your father painted for you might have been more skewed than you initially thought.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

while your father spent the next day with king stephen and their advisors, beginning the process of drafting and scrapping and rewriting peace treaties that you knew would never come to fruition, you were left to your own devices. venturing out of your chambers where you were bound to run into strangers was unsettling, but you pushed the feeling aside as you got dressed.

your father no doubt assumed you were jumping right into spending time gaining felix’ trust, but you didn’t know how to approach the younger prince to fulfill your part of the deal. you didn’t even know how to find him, or who to ask for his whereabouts; the sheltered walls of your home did not provide many opportunities for you to practice talking to people. 

the people here did not seem to have the same problem. wherever you turned, visiting nobles and palace staff sent you smiles, casual how are you’s and i hope you slept well’s handed out to you like spare change. it made your head spin, and the desire to retreat back into your chambers was strong.

you found your way outside instead, through an archway made of brown stone. the fresh air often helped you think. 

your casual walk allowed you to take in details that you couldn’t when you first arrived. the trees and greenery surrounding the palace were things you did not get at home, the forever winter killing off any color you longed to see. crops and livestock were held miles from the palace, outside of the reach of your vision and the invisible leash your father had kept you on, but here they thrived under the midday sun. you had a horse that you called your own, but you were only allowed to use him to travel to nearby towns on the outskirts of the palace property, right outside of the strong walls that surrounded it. none of the villagers there spoke to you past cold formalities, no matter how hard you tried, so eventually you gave up, settling for spending your time inside the castle.

here you found that you simply had to step outside of the palace walls to feel the soft grass beneath your feet, to smell the earth under your nose, to drink in the vibrant pinks and purples of the flowers in the gardens. there were so many trees, tall and strong with no walls blocking your vision of the soft foliage. you found a quiet bench under a tree, leaves and twigs decorating it’s surface from disuse, and you decided to call it your own despite having no ownership of any part of these grounds. 

no ownership yet, if your father had anything to do about it. 

you sat there for hours, drinking in the scenery as the sun made it’s path across the clear sky. you had expected boredom to creep around the edges of your mind, but it never came. the tranquility was so addictive that you found yourself back there, on that same bench, the next morning. and the next, your feet carrying you there before you were even fully awake.

“penny for your thoughts?” a deep voice disrupts your peace on that third day as a slender body sits on the bench next to you, just close enough that the warmth of his body touches your skin. you’re equal parts relieved and distressed when you see that it’s felix, and you smile at him in greeting, hoping that it didn’t come out as a grimace. this time when you meet his eyes, you make an effort to not look away.

“i do not get to see things such as this at home,” you wave your hand towards the garden, towards the birds chirping and the gentle sound of a stream bubbling. “it is beautiful. serene, you know?”

you don’t know how to act around him, and you certainly didn’t expect him to approach you. your words came out awkward, sounding unpracticed and superficial, and you try and hold back a flush from taking over your face. you hoped it wasn’t outstandingly clear how uncomfortable you were in his presence. do better than that, your father’s voice rings in your head.

“i agree,” he turns away from you, drinking in the picture-perfect view in front of you. “i am very lucky to call this place my home. what is yours like?”

“gray,” you deadpan, and the responding laugh he grants you makes your heart skip. better.

“there must be something beautiful there, it cannot just be you, right?” he says, a playful smirk tugging his lips upwards. 

“flattery will get you nowhere, my prince,” you shoot back, enjoying the moment of quick banter between the two of you before your words turned sober. “when my mother was alive, she would paint the hallways and the walls of our chambers with beautiful flowers and vines and clouds. the flowers were my favorite part, she painted them in such beautiful shades of purples and yellows. most of them have been painted over, but the ones in my chambers remain. those are my favorite part of the castle, the most beautiful things i have ever seen.” 

“i would love to see it one day,” he says, adamant and genuine as he takes your hand in his to squeeze it once before letting it go.

“maybe you could visit?” you look up at him through your lashes, a fake gesture to toy with him that left you feeling staticky and wrong. it was a complete lie - you would never subject this beautiful boy to the somberness of your home, lest it dull his brightness. even though he might not have a home soon, you push away the thought.

“only if it means i can see more of you, and not having you hide away,” he says, pointedly, though his face shows no malice. 

“it is overwhelming, for me,” you explain, embarrassed at having been caught. “to be surrounded by strangers.”

“yes,” his eyes are far away for a moment, his head deep in thought. “i understand.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the next morning you had only just left your chambers, planning for another day exploring the greenery around the palace, when you spot felix leaning against the wall opposite of the door. he approaches you with a warm smile and takes your hand, his skin soft under your fingertips. how long had he been waiting there for you?

“my lady,” he bows his head, bringing the back of your hand to his lips to press a kiss there, as he had done when you first arrived. “would you care for a walk around the palace? it would be my honor to be your escort for the day.”

“if you ask so nicely,” you smile back, humor seeping into your voice naturally. “how can i refuse?”

“excellent,” his smile widens and he holds an arm out for you to take. “i’ll take you to meet my friends! that way, you will have friends here, too, instead of strangers.”

his friends, you thought, would be nobles and lords and other members of high class that you would have to make fake pleasantries with. while his gesture was sweet, you had no interest making relations with the elite members of this court, the ones whose lives you were planning on upending. the last thing you expected was for him to take you straight to the kitchens, down winding hallways and corridors, marked by the ever increasing aroma of delicious baked goods and mouthwatering herbs.

“minho!” felix exclaims, bouncing on his heels excitedly, catching the attention of a man who was frowning deeply at a pot bubbling over a fire. “this is y/n, i am taking her around the castle today. y/n, this is minho, the king of our kitchens, and a dear friend of mine.”

the way he introduced you, so casually, was perplexing; no one had ever spoken your name without princess or lady preceding it. even more so was his casual use of king when talking about someone of lower class, a term that should be solely reserved for his father. 

“hello, my lady,” minho looks up, his lips turning up into a graceful smile, slightly crooked teeth peeking through his lips. his hair curls around his ears a bit, dainty jewelry adorning his lobes, and his features look almost sculpted in perfection. he’s absolutely beautiful.

“is everyone in your kingdom this pretty?” you blurt out, forgetting yourself, and minho barks into laughter. felix’s hand moves to lay on your arm, right at the crook of your elbow, and if it wasn’t for the amused smile on his face you may have thought you upset him.

“you are one to talk, my lady,” minho says, delight on his face that quickly morphs into exasperation as the pot he was monitoring earlier begins to bubble over.

“careful, min,” felix drawls out, his fingers curling further into your arm. almost possessively. interesting. “she is our guest, not someone for you to flirt with.”

“alright, your royal highness,” minho says distractedly, stirring vigorously. “now stop distracting me, unless you want raw meat and vegetables for dinner tonight.” 

felix grins in response, shooting a wave at the cook before leading you to a door in the back of the kitchens. it follows outside to a set of fields you hadn’t laid eyes on before, a cobblestone path winding through it like a river.

“so, do you think i am pretty too?” he teases as he leads you down the path, towards a set of men - knights - sparring in the midday sun. “or is that reserved for minho?”

“well-” you laugh, startled at his boldness. “i will not lie, you certainly are beautiful. but do not let it get to your head.”

“well as you said, flattery gets you nowhere, my lady,” he laughs too, and the two of you break all composure as you lean into each other. it’s almost too easy to be casual with him, too natural to break the carefully taught formalities that were drilled into you. you thought it might be a challenge, or awkward at the minimum, to get close to the prince, but you’re finding it to be quite an enjoyable experience thus far.

as you approach the knights, sweaty and panting from the exertion of their practice, you point out two men stand out from the rest, wearing armor with the royal colors showing proudly rather than the simple silver of the other knights. they held themselves with grace, power exuding off of them almost effortlessly, and they spark your interest.

“changbin and jisung,” felix points them out. “chris’ most trusted knights, and our friends. i pray for you if you ever get into a poker match with those two, they’ll cheat you out of every coin in your purse, the rascals.”

his voice is fond as his words are teasing, a juxtaposition that fascinates you. you don’t think you can recall a time where someone has used an insult as a term of endearment as he had just done. you lock this away in the back of your mind to ponder on later as you take in the two knights in front of you. the shorter one is clearly fond of exercise, if the muscles that even his heavy armor can’t hide is any clue. his hair is as dark as a raven’s feathers, curling from sweat, and his face is kind. the one next to him is slimmer, but no less strong. his face is round, cheeks swelling from the gummy smile he’s wearing, and his eyes are so pretty. 

“felix!” the more muscular one, changbin as felix had pointed out, beams at the man beside you. “care to join? your moves must be getting rusty with all the sitting around you royals do.”

felix sends a glare to changbin, no heat behind the gesture, and him and jisung laugh in response. 

“i have company, you scoundrels,” felix complains, almost in a whine. “could you not just boast about my prowess on the battlefield? you had to make me look bad?”

“please, lix,” jisung teases before turning his attention to you. “he may not be the most powerful warrior, but he is quick. the most agile swordwork i have seen, probably. it is like he is dancing with his opponent.”

felix flushes, shy under the compliments of his knights, his friends. 

“hyunjin and seungmin must be around here somewhere,” felix muses as he walks you down the corridor lined with knights, back inside and down a hallway you haven’t seen before. “this is where mine and chris’ chambers are. hyunjin is chris’s personal secretary, and seungmin is mine. though, i would consider him more of a menace than anything else.” 

his voice is lined with fondness again, like the way he spoke about minho and changbin and jisung. it’s the same manner as how he talks about his father and his brother, his family. it was like they were all his kin, regardless of blood.

“you are on a first name basis with the staff here?” you ask after a lull of silence, curiosity winning over your hesitance. your own handmaidens did not address you by name, the women who were your closest companions since you were young girls. you had never even thought to grant them the privilege of doing so.

“we treat everyone with the same respect, regardless of status or bloodline,” he says, words sounding a little colder than usual. 

“do not misunderstand,” you quickly correct, not wanting to offend him. because you want him to trust you, your mind supplies. not because you want him to like you. “i think it admirable. it is…different, to how things are in my kingdom. i am simply not used to it. i would prefer it this way, if i had the choice.”

it wasn’t a complete lie; you were searching for words that would win him your favor, but it surprised you how naturally they came to you. 

“do you not?” he furrows his brow, looking at you in confusion. whatever iciness he had before had melted into befuddlement, like he genuinely didn’t understand. “have a choice, i mean.”

you don’t know how to tell him you don’t have many choices at all. 

the silence takes over the both of you again, less comfortable than before, but he remains quiet as if he can sense the thoughts whirling inside of your head. it’s only when you reach the limits of the palace property that you’re thrown out of your mind, glancing at him with unspoken question.

“i thought we could take a stroll through the lower towns to end our day,” he explains, no signs of lingering animosity from your previous conversation. “it is my favorite place to go to get away from the palace once in a while.”

the lower towns, like most things in this kingdom, were not what you had expected. there were children playing in the streets, laughing and screaming while their parents watched on in exasperation. markets lined the cobblestones you walked on, selling vibrant fabrics and jewelry, freshly baked goods and crisp produce, and a variety of trinkets that overwhelmed you in the best way, patrons were striking bargains for products on every corner, trading goods for coin, a smile on each face you encountered.

it was a good distinction from the towns you were used to, where knights patrolled to ensure nothing was amiss. people there lived in fear, not in joy. everywhere you turned, people smiled at the prince beside you, and he would wave back or offer a small nod, ever polite. the few times you had managed to sneak into the lower towns to buy paints and canvas or trinkets as gifts for your handmaidens, you had gone in a thick cloak that covered your face lest you be recognized. here, walking around in your day dress, you felt almost naked. 

a child runs up to felix and wraps his small arms around his legs, bouncing excitedly on his heels.

“prince lixie!” he squeals, and felix leans down to ruffle his hair, a large smile on his face. it might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. “is that a princess?”

it takes you a moment to realize that the child is asking about you. you don’t interact with children much, your father would never allow them to touch you like the boy is with felix.

“yes, she is,” felix whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. “a very beautiful princess. why don’t you say hello?”

“hello,” the boy turns shy, peeking his head out from behind felix’ leg. the child, you found, could be forgiven for his lack of decorum when addressing you. he had a lot to learn at his young age. “i am joshua.”

“hi, little one,” you say, a little awkward as felix’ eyes are trained on you. “i am y/n.” 

you were at loss for words, but the few words you managed to give had the boy practically beaming at you in response. you watch as felix tells him to return to his friends, because you and him were on official palace business, and the boy nods sagely before scampering off.

“sorry about him,” he says once lucas is out of sight. “i have been visiting him in the village since he was very little. i have taken a liking to him, naughty as he is. he is the son of one of the merchants here, and he lost his mother years ago. i see myself in him.” 

“he is precious,” you take his arm again as he continues down the path. “i always wanted to visit the children in the orphanages at home, but i-” you cut yourself off, a habit you’ve taken to since arriving here. i need to learn to think before speaking. “i have not gotten the chance.”

“the children here are lovely,” he says. “i like learning from them. they keep me humble, remind me that not everyone is born with such privilege.”

he says it so simply, as if it’s his right to question such things; a man born into royalty surely has no business spending time with lower-class children, learning from them. it is one thing to offer them a coin, something that the kingdom could clearly spare. but what could they possibly teach him that his well-respected tutors could not?

you didn’t bring it up, afraid that he would react the same way he had earlier, when you questioned his informality with his staff. afraid that maybe, he would react in anger, though you couldn’t quite imagine the perfect lines of his face twisted into anything but peace.

before the two of you leave, he stops at one of the many stands selling an array of sparking jewelry and scarves, and he asks you if you would like anything. you want to say yes, the handmade twists of metal and dyed fabrics captivating you, but you shyly shake your head. 

you almost miss his forlorn expression when you refuse, turning away from the stand. it’s better this way, to not receive gifts from him. there will be nothing in your possession to remember him by, then.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

as felix drops you off at your door in the evening, the day comes crashing down on you - he’s so kind. everyone here is, from the royal family to the staff and the people living in the villages outside the gates. throughout the entire day you spent with felix, you did not once think about why you were here, simply enjoying his company and learning about him, not the secrets you were tasked with uncovering. 

it’s given you a lot to think about.

as he leaves, he runs a gentle hand down your arm from your shoulder to your wrist, squeezing gently before walking away. even his strides are made in lovely, even steps that makes him look other-worldly.

you lean against the doorframe, taking a deep breath to try and settle yourself, and it’s then that a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye captures your attention. 

a servant is standing just down the hallway opposite from the one felix disappeared into, the same servant who had walked you to your chambers the very first day. the first person here who had smiled at you for no reason other than to be kind.

“hello,” you call out softly, beckoning him closer to you; you don’t know who looks more nervous out of the two of you as he approaches you with uncertain steps. “what is your name?”

“jeongin, my lady,” he almost whispers, hesitant, wide eyes trained on you. 

“nice to meet you, jeongin,” your lips tug upwards. he’s adorable. 

“we have met before,” he blurts out, smacking his hands over his mouth. “i am sorry, i spoke out of turn. i just meant…” 

he trails off, looking down shyly. 

“meant what, jeongin?” you ask, sure to keep your voice light and free of demand despite the curiosity starting to burn in you. what did he mean, you’ve met before? surely, he means within the palace earlier that week, right?

“i used to live in your kingdom,” he admits, his fingers playing with them hem of his tunic. “when i was younger. my mother was a servant in your castle.”

“really?” you gasp, understanding and puzzlement taking over simultaneously. 

“yes, but i left when i was still young,” he explains. “i remember you, though. you were always kind. i admired you for that.”

“thank you, jeongin,” you manage to force out, knowing that you did not deserve his kind words, even as informal as they were given. he was wrong; you were just as wicked as the rest of the nobles in your court. perhaps you were simply better at hiding it.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

your father pulls you into an empty corridor near your chambers the next day, his strength harsh enough to make you stumble over your feet.

“what have you learned,” he speaks in hushed tones, scared of being overheard. it’s more of a demand than a question, as if he simply expected you to have what he needs after such little time.

“i spent the entire day with him yesterday,” you start, choosing your words carefully, lest he discover that you’re actually enjoying yourself here. “he took me around the castle, and i have an idea of the layout, in the case that we need to make a hasty exit.”

“anything else?” he pushes, leaning further into your space. 

“they are…unusually fond of their staff here,” you divulge, more reluctant to give up this information. “they might be of use.”

“good girl,” his smirk is like frost, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. a gesture that, to others, may have seemed paternal, protective. though his touch sends an unpleasant shiver up your spine, his words satisfy some sick satisfaction within you - the need for his approval was met.

“your mother would be proud.”

as he walks away, it makes you queasy how those words make you straighten up, proud. pleased. living in the echo of your mother’s footsteps for so long made you doubtful that you would ever be able to fill them, but maybe this was a start.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you see felix later, walking to the banquet hall with another boy dressed in simple clothes. they pause by the entrance, deep in conversation, and you duck behind a pillar, out of their sight. you’re just close enough to hear snippets of their conversation, when their voices raise from their hushed whispers. they must not want to be overheard, you realize, straining your ears harder. this was your chance to gather some kind useful information for your father.

you close your eyes and listen, picking up puzzle pieces of she’s sick and time off and you’ve almost completed the puzzle when it hits you - though any conversation they might have had was not meant for you to hear, this one in particular felt like a breach of privacy. not of felix’ but of the boy standing before him. 

his secretary, seungmin, that he had spoken about the previous day. the boy who, as you had just learned, had a sick mother, and was requesting some time away to care for her. as you peek around the pillar, you see felix rest a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to the boy before pulling him in for a gentle hug. 

he’s friends with his staff, and he touches them so casually? this didn’t fit. it fit nothing of the way you were brought up, formality and proprietary trained into you, and it fit nothing of the picture your father had painted of the royals that ruled over this kingdom. it seems that with every observation, instead of answers you were left with more and more questions. 

“what are you doing?” a voice sounds from behind you, too close, and you nearly jump. 

“what?” you breathe out, turning to see jeongin standing behind you, eyes wide.

“you were just standing there with your eyes closed,” he explains. “is everything okay?”

“my lady,” you correct, the words leaving your mouth as if it had a mind of its own. “is everything okay, my lady.”

“oh,” he says, twisting his bottom lip between his teeth. “apologies, my lady. there is no such need for formalities here, i had forgotten.”

“it is alright,” you assure, watching as he relaxes and lets out a breath. 

“just, a word of advice?” he says, continuing before you could tell him that no, you didn’t want nor need his advice. “if you are going to be here for some time, you should try and adapt. not to overstep, my lady, you just might find yourself more comfortable if you relax a bit.”

he walks away with a smile, and you’re left alone to reflect on his words. he did overstep, but it does not mean he didn’t give you something useful. adapt, he had said, and perhaps he had a point. felix seemed to be more open with you when you were agreeable, when you didn’t question his strange impropriety. 

maybe becoming one of them, even through a facade, was the key to unlocking whatever you needed to find.

he arrives at your door as the sun was setting, light knocks accompanied by a call of your name that you almost couldn’t hear. you call out softly for him to enter, a delighted smile taking over your face when you see what he has grasped in his hand, held out in offering.

a beautiful bouquet of flowers, wrapped in creamy tulle. the petals were a vibrant purple, highlighted by sharp yellows and soft whites towards their center. they were violas, your mother’s favorite flower. 

you hadn’t seen one since she had passed. your father had forbade anyone from growing them on his lands.

“how did you know?” you gasp, smiling at him brightly as you take them from him. you move them closer to your face, and if you were alone you might bury your face into them, savoring their powdery sweet smell. “that these were my favorite flower?”

“you told me,” he says, ears turning pink under your attention. “that your mother painted your room in purple flowers. i just guessed, but from your reaction i hope i got it right?”

how had he remembered such a small detail that you had given him, when you knew little to nothing about him?

“oh, felix, they’re perfect. you remembered such a small thing?”

“there are a lot of things i wish to know about you,” he confesses. 

“likewise,” you smile at him. 

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

smoke, creeping through the gap between the floor and the wooden door, rising in curling pillars towards you. snaking around your neck, entering your throat and your nostrils, burning your lungs to ash. you scramble for the doorknob, but the moment your fingers hit it you’re snatching your hand back - it’s icy hot, unable to touch. 

there is no escape.

the windows - covered by royal blue curtains, catch fire from below, and you throw them back. you need air, something to clear out your crumbling lungs, but when you look outside the city is on fire. red-hot flames lick up the side of the palace, trees turned barren and flowers burned to a crisp. 

in the center you can see felix, flames surrounding him but not touching. he’s whispering something, and you cry out that you can’t hear him. speak louder, please, you beg. help me.

“this is your fault,” he speaks, his voice right in your ear, but when you turn towards it, it’s not felix next to you. it’s your father.

his hand slides around your waist, pulling you close to him, embracing you. 

“good work,” he says, proud smile on his face as the both of you watch the city fall to the flames. “i knew you could do it.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

since the younger prince had taken you on a tour of the castle, you’ve seen him every day. sometimes he would greet you at breakfast, disappearing afterwards only for him to show up at your door later to ask you on a walk around the grounds. other times he would be waiting for you outside your chambers when you woke up with a basket of fresh pasties baked by minho for you to enjoy together, and he would watch in delight as you savored the flavors. on rarer days, you would only see him in passing while he was between duties, but he would stop to press a kiss to the back of your hand, every time. 

you played along with him, accepting his flirting and responding in turn. it came instinctively, and you often forgot that you were meant to be luring him into a false companionship, not a real one. he was alluring, smart with a fragment of recklessness, soft with sharp edges, a perfect balance of everything. 

as the days passed, he would get bolder. his touches lingered for longer, the searing heat of his hand pressing on your arm, your shoulder, on the small of your back. his kisses moved from your hands to your cheeks and your temples, to the crown of your head, and it left you aching for more. he didn’t hold back his compliments, reflecting not only on how beautiful he found you but also how thought you were clever, intelligent, good-natured. you never thought those things about yourself, but something in the way he said it made you think they were true.

in the times that you weren’t with felix, you spent time with jeongin. the boy was as sweet as he looked, the the more time you spent together, the more his shyness melted away to reveal sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. you found your own walls dropping around him too, his easy companionship making it difficult to remain closed off to him. he reminded you of the home of your childhood, the one that you missed fiercely, and you were grateful to have him by your side. he kept you humble, holding you accountable for the way you acted, even though a spark of fear remained within him any time he spoke his mind in that regard. you managed to hold back your annoyance at his remarks, and soon you found that it simply faded out of reach. you became fast friends, almost too quickly, evidenced by the way he would raise his eyebrows at you when he saw you with felix, like he could see right through you.

you were lucky that your attraction to the prince was all that he could see through. the weight of your impending betrayal was like a shackle on your ankle, following you wherever you went, impossible to truly forget about. while you had yet to learn anything about the royal family that could serve as a benefit to your father, you saw your relationship with felix as a betrayal in it’s own right. if you were better, you would leave him alone - you would leave this kingdom entirely, and refuse to play any part in their downfall. but you couldn’t physically stay away.

you couldn’t stop from filing away small bits of information that might serve to be useful, either. the prince’s brother’s favorite meal, in case the opportunity to poison him came along. his father’s daily schedule, told to you by felix freely when you had asked, your fingertip running down his arm from his shoulder to his wrist. the likely areas where secrets may have been hidden, restricted to you and glossed over by felix when he would walk with you around the castle. you hated it, categorizing this information into handy little parcels that you would deliver to your father.

a welcome distraction came in the form of the very thing you should be avoiding; on a few occasions, felix had christopher and his betrothed, roseanne, accompany the two of you on whatever excursion he had planned for that day. 

a simple picnic in the garden, juicy fruits picked just that morning and fresh baked bread and crumbly cheeses to snack on while the four of you talked. conversation came easy with chris and roseanne, once you broke out of the too familiar anxiety that surrounded you when with new people. felix’s warmth from where he was settled next to you, allowing you to lean into him, helped more than you wanted to tell him. chris was so similar to his brother, sharing his kindness and his humor, though his jokes were cheesier than felix’ dry sarcasm. roseanne was lovely, someone who you could see as a close friend under different circumstances. 

a on a visit to the lower towns, just as lively as it was the first time you went. it was then that you officially met hyunjin and seungmin, the prince’s assistants. the way they bickered with one another, and their royal counterparts, made you laugh so hard that your stomach ached with it. even they were striking, and it left you wondering whether one’s disposition on the inside reflected their beauty on the outside. 

your friendly chatter continued into mealtimes, where the kings would join you, the very few times where you would get to see king stephen at all. he bantered with his children, asking them about their days and their plans for the next ones, acted like a father instead of a king with them. it sent a pang of longing through you - your father had been like that, before. you don’t think he remembered how to be a father, anymore.

as much as you loved the prince’s company, you hated the approving nods you would get from your father whenever he saw you and felix together. the acknowledgement that you craved for just weeks ago felt near futile now - he didn’t see that instead of making the prince fall for you, the opposite was taking place. he didn’t see the genuine connection between the two of you, the way you craved for him, the way nothing else seemed to matter when he was in front of you. he didn’t care about your heart, about how it would likely break beyond compare when he he was finished here. he didn’t care about you. 

the you that was falling for felix. for his compassion, for his gentle nature, for his quick wit and effortless beauty. for the way he treated those around him, for the way he spoke to you like you were more than a pawn in a cruel game of chess. it made you sick to your stomach to think about what was to come, what you hopelessly wished you could avoid. you find yourself wishing, not for the first time, that you and your father were truly here seeking peace. that you could imagine a future here without guilt gnawing at your chest.

the closer you grow to felix, the stronger the gnawing feeling in your stomach becomes. but you can’t stay away from him, even if you tried; the sparking light in his eyes drew you in and you were helpless to his magnetic pull. the way he would beckon you over with his hand, palm facing upright as if waiting to join with your own, left you no choice but to go to him. you knew you were selfish, spending time with him out of your own desires while doing nothing to warn him of what was to come and making no actions to follow through with your father’s wishes. you knew your time here, living in peace, was running short, the last dribbles of sand slipping down an hourglass.

and yet, when he finally pulled you into an empty alcove and held you close so that he could press his lips gently to yours, you let him. you responded in kind, moving together with him like some kind of dance. 

when he invited you into his chambers and into his bed, you didn’t say no. even then, when he gave you all of himself, you took it. 

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

fire, this time contained in a ring of wooden slats, smoke curling up into the night sky. felix, by your side, you tucked into his side while the two of you claim it’s warmth for your own.

“why?” felix says, running a hand up and down your arm. you hum, snuggling further into him when a breeze makes it way to you through the trees surrounding you.

“why what?” you ask, voice syrupy sweet.

“why did you do it?” he turns towards you, the flames still visible in his eyes. he glances over your shoulder pointedly before turning back to the campfire, pulling you into him again. you look behind you, and a firestorm meets your vision. you can barely make out the outline of the beautiful palace through the inferno, but a figure stands out in the center of it. you move closer, the heat threatening to scorch your skin, to see your father strapped to stake. burning. dying.

you turn back towards felix, question dying on your lips when he’s not there. a sick feeling enters your stomach as your gaze returns to the fire, and where your father was is felix in his place.

you let out a horrid scream.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

waking up to the sight of felix, blonde hair illuminated by the morning light like a halo around his head, was something you think you could never get used to. even if you were allowed this under better circumstances, if the two of you had fallen together after meeting at a ball or a diplomatic meeting, his beauty was something that you truly could not comprehend. 

you have half a mind to scold both him and yourself for breaking proprietary, for falling into bed with one another out of wedlock, as parts of two separate kingdoms that have yet to establish ties. you don’t, though; you were as much at fault as he was, and you had enjoyed it too much to ruin it for either of you. you do not acknowledge the guilt that was creeping up inside of you from your dishonesty, or the remainder of fear that lingered from your dream. looking at felix while he slept seemed like a much better way to spend your time.

he is equal parts pretty and cute when he mumbles, smacking his lips together as his eyelids flutter, holding onto the last pieces of sleep he can. when his brown eyes peek through his eyelashes and land on you, you can see the smile in his gaze.

“morning,” his deep voice rumbles, and he pulls you close to him by the waist. you land almost on top of him, his movement making you lose your balance from where you were perched on your elbow watching him, and you both let out breathless laughter at your undignified flailing. you settle against him, his chest pillowing your head while you trace senseless patterns into whatever patches of skin you can find.

you can still feel the phantom touches that he had imprinted on you the night before, as he held you more gently than anyone ever had. you can feel the silky smooth strands of his hair under your fingers, the ghost of his breath panting against your neck. you can hear the sweet sounds you pulled out of him over and over. 

“penny for your thoughts?” he asks, just as he did when he met you in the gardens the very first time. 

“mm,” you sound, not wanting to break the peaceful silence the two of you were basking in. “just thinking about my mother.” 

“oh,” his face drops in sadness. not in pity, but in compassion. in empathy, for of all people he would understand; he lost his mother, too. “can i ask how she passed?”

a refusal is at the tip of your tongue, as it is when anyone asks about your mother, but it fizzles out when you look at him. you found yourself wanting to talk about this with him.

“she was sick,” you start, early memories of your childhood filtering into your head. “since i can remember, she was sick. it took over her body slowly, it took years for her to succumb to being bedridden. she would paint for hours and hours, back then, until she collapsed. but then, it took over her mind too. that was the worst part, her forgetting who my father was, who i was, forgetting who she was. when she passed, it was almost a relief, i could not stand to see her in that state of pain anymore. i was twelve, when it happened.”

“i am sorry,” his voice is deep, thick with sadness. “that sounds like something a child should never have to go through.”

“what about…” you trail off, not wanting to make it sound like the two of you were trading secrets like giggling children. 

“she was murdered by bandits, in the lower towns, just a few years ago,” he answered your unfinished question. “she went further than she was supposed to go from the castle grounds, and she always refused to bring knights with her. my father blames himself, and i blamed him for a long time too. but it was not his fault.”

“i am sorry, too,” you place your hand on his cheek, hoping the weight of your caress would surpass the lack of words you offered him. 

“as strange as it is to say, i-” he cuts off for a second, letting out a strangled laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “i am glad that you understand. it is hard telling these things to people that have not experienced that kind of pain.”

you don’t think it’s strange at all. it settles something within you, the part of you that had felt so alone for years. for all of his charms, it was this display of raw honesty that transformed what you had thought to be superficial attraction into something more, something deeper.

“i feel the same,” you close your eyes, trying to tamper the nausea that arose at those words. you’re going to take his father from him too, your back-stabbing mind informs you. and his brother, you don’t deserve his comfort. 

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

your father calls for you that morning, sending a note to your chambers. you only see it when you finally get out of felix’ bed and make it to your own to freshen up, a smile present on your face that you can’t help. 

every step you take towards your father’s chambers feels more and more like you’re signing your death wish, and the sound of his door opening several moments after you knock on it sounds like cannon-fire in your head.

“you asked for me?” you move closer to the desk where he had sat, and from your position you could see messy piles of paper with words that had been angrily scrawled on them. 

“i have asked you for many things,” he starts, voice dripping with condescension. “but it is good to see that you can manage to follow simple orders.”

his passive aggression makes your blood boil; after weeks of being treated so kindly by your hosts, your patience was wearing thin in the face of your father.

“i am trying to earn their trust fully,” you try to reason. “it is taking longer than expected.”

“and sharing a bed with him is not enough? whoring yourself out to them has not given you the opportunity to find out what you need?” his words were almost enough to make your skin catch fire. how did he possibly know what you and felix had done? “complete what i have asked of you, now. the faster we finish this, the quicker we can leave this horrid place.”

leave this place, and go back to what? an empty castle where you are disrespected, forgotten, ignored? a place with no life, no joy, no laughter? you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you were certain that going back was not a favorable outcome.

“i’m not a servant that you can bark orders to,” you bit out, regretting it almost instantly when he stood up so fast that his chair fell to the floor behind him. 

“watch your mouth,” he growls, stalking towards you, and you take a few steps back from him. “it seems that the only thing you’ve learned from the insolent brats here is how to be weak. how to disrespect your king, the one who has clothed you and fed you since you were born.”

your king, he said. not your father. 

he grabs you by the neck and pushes you back, back, back until you’re up against the door, his grip strong enough that you knew would leave behind a ring of bruises. you wish you could deem this unfamiliar, but the sensation of feeling pain caused by his hands was not uncommon.

“i am growing tired of your excuses. you think they care about you? they would kill you in an instant if they knew what you have been hiding.” he moves closer, until his face is inches from yours and you cannot look anywhere but at him. “if you know what is good for you, you will stop this insolence and do as i say.”

when he removes his grip from you, your knees give out, and you brace yourself against the doorframe to keep from falling. he returns to his desk, not sparing you a glance as you leave his chambers and close the door behind you.

you don’t notice the frightened frame that had been standing outside the door through the tears clouding your vision.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you’re sitting at the fireplace in your chambers when you hear your door open, jeongin slipping in and closing it quietly behind him. he settles himself next to you, taking in your haggard appearance.

“your father is not here to make peace, is he?” he asks, his voice quiet and free of judgment. like he was confirming what he was already known to be true, not making an accusation.

“no,” you answer simply, too exhausted to try and lie to him. your friend. maybe the first real one you’ve ever had.

“you are helping him.” he says, letting a crumb of distress loose into his voice.

“yes.”

“you have come here under the illest of intentions, gained our trust,” he starts, calm. quiet.

“i know,” you sigh.

“you are going to hurt a lot of people.“

“i know.”

“you are going to do it, even though you do not want to.”

“i know, jeongin!” you snap, feeling guilty when he jumps a little.

“it’s just,” he’s playing with his fingers, a tell of his nerves. “i remember what it was like, at home. before, and then after. when things changed, when people became meaner. more cold, and closed off. that is why we left, and came here. don not make us go through that again.”

“i am sorry,” you whisper, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach at his words. all you can offer him is an empty apology, useless as it is.

“i had hoped that you would be different. that you would stay true to who you were, or who i thought you to be.” he’s looking into the fire, not blinking as if mesmerized. as if he’s trying to dissociate from this moment in a way you wish you could. “when i saw you here, you still had it. that light, from before.”

“i do not want to do it, innie,” you choke out, echoing his words while your eyes burned. “i do not know what to do. i never wanted this, i hate it.”

“i know,” he says. “i can see it. in everything you do, your hesitation, the way you hold yourself back. but you do not understand.”

“understand what?” you’re exhausted, you don’t have it in yourself to be frustrated at him.

“that you have a choice,” he says, as if it was a simple thing. “that you can choose to end this, choose to do what you know is right.”

“i am scared,” you wobble out.

“being scared is good,” he finally breaks away from the fire, but the light in his eyes burns just as bright when he looks at you. “it makes you genuine. that is what makes you different from him. but you do not have to let that stop you.”

“i do not know how,” you whisper, voice barely carrying over to him. 

“figure it out,” he says, just as quiet. “or i will do something, that you will not like. i will not let you harm my friends, no matter who you are.”

he leaves you then, slipping out of the chambers as quietly as he had come in, leaving you to your thoughts and what felt like a never ending stream of silent tears flowing from your eyes.

the next morning, you hand jeongin a note to give to hyunjin for christopher. 

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the sun had been set for hours when you wrap a scarf around your neck to hind the greenish blue splotches forming around your neck and secure the buckles on your boots. you hadn’t seen felix all day, but you knew that if he asked you to spend the night with him that you wouldn’t be able to follow through with what you were about to to.

your cloak shrouds your face from anyone who might be awake as you quickly make your way through the gardens, to the bench that you often inhabited. christopher is already waiting there for you, a grim look on his face.

“why did you ask me here, my lady?” he asks, clearly confused. 

“please, i need you to listen to me,” your voice is hushed, like you’re scared of anyone hearing despite the hour of day and the concealed location you had chosen.”i am going to tell you things that you will not like, but i need you to listen until the end.” 

“are you alright?” he looks concerned at how desperate you sound, but you shake your head. now isn’t the time for him to worry about you.

you tell him everything. the things your father had said about his family, the plan he had concocted before even stepping foot in this kingdom, the way his demands have been increasing from your lack of progress. the way you had changed as a result of being around the people here, that you didn’t wish to play in your father’s game any longer. you watch as his face morphs from surprise to anger to betrayal and back again, a cycle of emotions that might be comical under any other circumstance. 

there were many ways you could have done this; telling the king for one, but this would open the chance of him ending your life along with your father. trying again to reason with your him, making it clear that you weren’t going to comply with his demands, but you could never see him compromising his mission. there was one single thing that you had thought of that had a chance of succeeding, with your head still attached to your body.

you end your speech with a demand, simple as it is, and that’s when he shows disbelief.

“you want me to kill your father?” he asks, incredulous. 

“i may have loved him once,” you admit, voice thick with emotion. “but not anymore. he is not my father anymore, he is a tyrant. there is not a single soul in the kingdoms that would benefit from him being alive.”

“how do i know i can trust you?” he raises a cool brow, indifference masking whatever he was truly feeling underneath. “what if this is part of your plot?”

“you do not have time to consider my legitimacy!” you cry out, desperate. “i have tried to delay him, to think of some way out of this. he is getting angrier by the day and i fear that he will do something without thinking, something bad, and soon.”

“why not just leave then?” he asks, as if giving you a test. for all it was worth, it was a test that you wanted to pass. “why go through all of this when you could just get out, save yourself?”

“that would not be fair to my people, to leave them with him,” your words come out more passionate than you expected them to. “they deserve better than that. and it would not be fair to you, either. you have shown me more compassion than anyone has since my mother was alive. i will not repay that kindness by leaving like a coward.”

“has he hurt you?” the question catches you off guard, as does the concern filtering through his gaze. you bite your tongue; you want to answer, tell him yes, but that tiny, frightened version of you inside stops the words from coming out. you want to pull down your scarf, show him visible proof of the way your father treats you, but your hands feel like lead. he takes your silence as a confirmation though, nodding and cursing under his breath. 

“i will not kill him,” he says, and you open your mouth to beg, plead for him to listen, but he holds a hand out as he continues. “but i will keep my guard up. i will not take this lightly; my father’s life is in danger, and i will take every precaution while i gain information.”

you sigh through your nose, defeat making your body sag into the bench. this was your last chance; chris may as well have just sealed all of your fates.

“please understand,” he says, weary. “i cannot go to my father with accusations when i have no proof. i believe you, i just need evidence before i can act.”

“please, just,” you say as you stand, not wanting to ask him for another impossible task he might refuse. “do not tell felix? i cannot have him getting caught up in this. i do not want him hurt.”

“you care about him.” he states, as if he is already sure of your answer. 

“more than i thought possible,” you answer, and it is the truth.

“i cannot promise you that i will keep him in the dark. he is my brother,” he frowns. “we do not keep secrets from one another.”

“please,” it’s all you can say before you walk away, pulling your hood back over your face. you can only hope that he will listen to your plea. if not for your sake, but for felix’.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you should go to your own chambers, should stay away from felix until things were figured out, done and over. but your feet take you to his door instead of your own, and you’re inside his chambers before you can second-guess your stupid decision. you can tell he’s awake by his breathing, irregular and short, and it both pains and excites you that you are allowed to know things about him in that capacity.

“hi,” you keep your voice low, almost a purr as you climb into the bed and throw an arm around his curled up form. his nose scrunches and he wriggles a little bit, almost dislodging you, but you keep your grip strong. you don’t know when you will get this again. 

“you smell like outside,” he complains, his body going lax. “where were you? i missed you.”

“just checking on some things,” you mumble into his skin, your lips finding home on the back of his neck. “i am all yours now.”

“do you not have people to check on things for you?” he asks, opening his eyes finally and turning his head towards you. you’re glad for the lack of light that keeps him from really seeing you. seeing the stress pinching your brows together, and the guilty frown that you can’t get rid of. “i have told you, my staff are there at your disposal. for whatever you need.” 

“why trust others to do things i can do myself?” you quip back, the guilt of not telling him eating at you. you bury your face into his neck, hiding yourself, and the hand he tangles into your hair soothes you a bit. you feel tears welling up against your will and you let a shaky breath out into his honeyed skin.

“are you alright?” he tries to move your head up to look at you, but you refuse, shaking your head.

“i just really care about you, you know that right?” you admit, the last words you spoke to chris echoing in your head. “i didn’t expect to ever care about someone this much.”

“i care about you too,” confusion laces his words, and he runs a hand up and down your back. “are you sure you are alright?”

“i will be.”

so will he. you would make sure of it, somehow.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

felix is out of bed by the time you awaken the next morning, but it isn’t something unusual to wake up to cold sheets next to you. he is a prince, after all, and he can’t spend all hours of his day with you. if anything it’s better that he’s gone today; it will help you keep the distance that you failed to keep the night before.

you’re slow as you dress, the decision you made before you succumbed to sleep weighing heavily on your shoulders; you were going to speak to your father, for a final time. you were not going to give him a choice, you were going to rob him of the basic right that you he so often deprived you of. you were going to make him listen to you, for once.

but when you enter his chambers, he is absent from them. you try and dampen the dread creeping up your throat; surely, he wouldn’t act now? only a couple of days after you last spoke?

you approach his desk, looking for any sort of clue that might lead to his whereabouts, but what you find is worse than you’d imagined. pages upon pages of plans, detailed imagery of how he wanted to kill the king and his sons, how he wanted to enslave the people here, how he would take the resources here and let the land rot and decay, all scribbled down in near nonsensical sentences. 

stupid man, leaving these out for anyone to see. you swipe them off the table, folding them neatly and tucking them into the bodice of your dress where no one would find them, just as your father enters the chambers. your hand flies to your chest, covering up what you had just done, but your father must think it an act of surprise from his lack of acknowledgement.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, eyes narrowed on you. you hold your head up even when you want to cower before him. 

“the crowned prince knows of your betrayal,” you inform, watching as his eyes filled with anger. no fear, as you had expected.

“how,” he growls, making quick steps towards you and taking both of your arms in a harsh grip. his rings dig into your flesh, 

“i told him,” you say, surprised when the words come out clean and leveled and your head stays up high. “i will not help you any longer. the king will know soon, and you will be thrown in prison.”

it was an empty threat; you knew the king was still unaware of what was going on. 

“you would trade me for these people you barely know? the same people who killed your moth- your grandfather?” and it clicks into place. he made a mistake, he misspoke, and it showed the last of his cards that he had kept so carefully hidden from you. it’s clear now: he’s gone mad, searching for some kind of revenge, even if it is on the wrong people. he’s locked himself into some grief-fueled conspiracy, and you realize now that he’s truly lost to you. that he had been lost, for years now. 

“you are not fit to rule over anything,” you snarl. “you are not fit to be a father, you are not fit to do anything more than sit here and place blame on everyone but yourself!”

he doesn’t react for several moments, searching your face for something, before letting out a bark of laughter, eyes wild.

“you ungrateful, insolent, stupid girl,” he shakes you with every word, and your teeth rattle. “you think you can threaten me?” 

he raises a hand and the back of it strikes you across the cheek, metal catching on the delicate bone there. you fall to the ground, the force of it knocking you off balance, and when you raise a shaking hand to your burning skin it comes back flecked with blood. 

“get out of my sight,” he spits at you, stepping around your form as if you were a mere pest before him. “this changes nothing. your threats mean nothing, but heed mine. if you ever step foot in front of me again, i will have you hanged. from now on, you are not my daughter. you are nothing.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the walk to your chambers feels longer than usual despite your hurried steps, and you can’t shake the feeling that something unfortunate was going to happen, soon. what did your father mean when he said that your warning changed nothing? did he not believe you?

you don’t dwell on his clear descent to madness for long; you curse yourself for not seeing the blatant signs of it earlier, his obsession and his misplaced fury, but you know that there are more pressing issues that need your attention. 

perhaps a further look at his aimless scribbling would give you some answers. either way, it was the proof you needed, the evidence chris claimed was necessary to have before approaching king stephen with your claims. you knew needed to act, and soon.  

when you find felix already in your chambers, his presence is enough to qualm the hurricane raging under your skin. it comes back full force, though, when you look at him and he’s angry. 

“when were you going to tell me,” he starts, voice ice cold like you’ve never heard it before. it terrified you. “that you were planning to kill my family?”

“what?” you gasp out, every nerve in your body freezing to stone. any urgency you were feeling regarding your father is wiped out, replaced with cold trepidation. chris told him.

“you came here to kill my father, to kill my brother and his love and to, to use me,” he grits out, voice trembling, and you can’t stand it.

“no, i-” you choke out, the words escaping you. you wanted to tell him everything, wanted to show him what you had found and bring the evidence to his father together, but you can’t get it out. “maybe at first, but no, not anymore-”

“not anymore?” he cries out, incredulous. “how can i trust anything you say to me? you’ve been lying to me since you got here, lying about everything, lying about caring for me-”

“no, felix, i love you,” the confession rips out of you and the timing couldn’t be worse. you wanted to tell him after, when things were not in the uncertain state they were in now. you wanted to give him the confession he deserved, something worthy of the man that he was. he shakes his head at your words, crystal tears forming in his eyes.

“you do not get to say that to me,” he bites out. “i do not even know who you are, you have been lying to me from the beginning, playing with me, you do not get to say that.”

“i did not want to,” you almost wail, the feeling in your knees giving out as you fall to his feet. the emotions that you haven’t been letting yourself feel were pouring out of you. “i did not want to, but he would have killed me, or married me off to some brute to get rid of me and i had no idea what to do.”

you want to shout, look at what he did to me, look at the evidence of what he would do to me, but you can’t. 

“stop. stop talking.” he drags you to your feet by the arm, grip harsh like he would rather do anything than be touching you right now. “get out of my chambers. i want you and your father out of my home, and if you do not leave i swear to the gods i will tell my father to have you hanged.”

you stumble towards his door, turning back to throw one last pleading glance at him, and you regret it as his next words cut you right to the core.

“they warned me about you, did you know that?” he’s no longer speaking out anger, but rather cold indifference. it’s worse, somehow. you wanted to ask who they were, but in the moment it truly didn’t matter. “they told me about your family, how vile you all are. how you would poison us from the inside. but when i laid eyes on you, i did not believe them. i know now, that i should have.”

your body remains frozen long after he leaves, and you don’t realize that your body has moved to your bed until jeongin peeks his head into the door.

“innie,” you choke out from where you’re laying over the covers. he rushes to your side, and his face falls when he sees the tears leaking from your eyes. 

“what happened?” he pushes your hair out of your face with the tips of his fingers, so gentle that you can’t help but let out a sob. 

“felix,” you stutter out. “he hates me- he wants me gone. and i don’t blame him, i hate me, but innie, it hurts.”

you let jeongin pull you into his arms, tears leaking into his shirt, and even then your traitorous heart wishes it was felix holding you like this. the last thing you remember before sleep clouds your mind is jeongin whispering i’m sorry into your hair.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

fire, but this time it surrounds you. not burning, but encasing you in warmth, covering your body completely. it spreads, catching onto the surfaces around you.

it’s threatening to combust, taking you with it. you didn’t know what do to. flee? protect, your mind demands. so you run, past door after door, passing by people who beckon you inside. you can’t, you need to leave.

chris, asking you to come inside. minho, calling you in for a meal, fresh and fragrant. jeongin, asking you to join him, telling you he’s worried about you. 

felix, standing still as stone on his balcony. your father behind him, eyes dark as they narrow in on the prince. no.

you rush to them, gliding past felix, your flame sliding off his skin like water. you push your father away, your momentum carrying the both of you forward as the flames catch on his frame.

falling, falling, falling, off the balcony towards an endless pit of darkness. you look up and felix is watching, beautiful face twisted in anguish as he watches the two of you plummet.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you didn’t leave. despite felix’ warnings, you didn’t make any moves to flee the castle. you needed to see this through, needed to ensure that the people here were safe; the only way you would leave this palace is in the absence of your father’s company. if you were going to die, you would rather it be by stephen’s hands than by his.

you almost don’t leave your chambers, terror paralyzing you as you sit on your bed, waiting nervously for something to happen. whether it be news from christopher about his efforts or a group of knights ready to take you to the dungeons, your body itched for some action. you don’t leave for breakfast, and you don’t let jeongin in when he quietly brings you a meal and leaves it at your door. you pick at it, watching the morning sun rise into the sky and wishing you had a jug of wine to drown yourself in.

by midday, you had made up your mind; you were going to enter the king’s chambers, deliver him the information you had, and sneak away from the palace at night. where you would go, you did not know, but you knew that you were not welcome in either court anymore. you had ostracized yourself from your home and from the group of people here that you hoped to one day call your family. 

you had no one. and it was your own doing.

you push away the thought as you hurry through the familiar halls, stopping at one of the only doors you had yet to enter. the king wasn’t in his chambers, you discovered, when you spent several minutes knocking on the door to no avail. the council chambers were empty as well, and you felt your heart speed up as you raced through the halls, avoiding any person you saw. your boots clicked on the stone as you hastily entered and exited chambers and hallways, searching desperately for the king, hoping he was here somewhere. 

you find them in the banquet hall, a smile on stephen’s face as he signs a long document with a feathered quill. you’re not close enough to see what it is from you’re standing behind a column at the entrance to the hall, hiding your presence from them. your father moves to stand next to the king when he finishes, leaning in close as he takes the quill from him, and he raises his hand behind the king’s back. in his hand, sunlight glints off of a piece of metal in his hand - a knife,

you look around desperately for a knight to alert, but you find none. why are there no knights here? your stomach lodges itself into your throat as you stare at the two kings, frozen as your father readies the knife, poised to strike stephen right in the center of his back -

“no!” you cry, breaking away from the spot you were glued to as you run faster than thought was possible have towards them. your father turns towards your voice in shock, the knife slicing through the king’s side in a clean movement, and the king falls. 

“what are you doing?” your father snarls, the man by his feet forgotten as his attention turns to you. you spare stephen a glance, meeting his wide eyes, and you hope he can see the apology in yours. your father’s forward movement moves your attention to him, and you see him stalking towards you with his knife poised. “i am growing tired of your foolishness, you wretched girl.”

“if you want to kill someone, kill me. not him,” you plead, backing away from him. “he did not kill her, you know that. this, this delusion you are living under, it needs to stop!”

“do not speak of her to me,” you can see his anger rising, redness traveling up his neck. “you are a poor excuse of a woman compared to her. you know nothing. everything i have done, i have done for her, and i will kill you and the rest of them if i need to.”

you’ve heard your father recount his killing of countless adversaries, spoken in cold tones with no regret, but to see him with his weapon raised at you is something you had never imagined in all of your days. it was a truly terrifying sight.

he backs you into the same column you had been hiding behind earlier, a mirror image of the way he had cornered you in his bedchambers days ago. his free hand circles your neck, covering the bruises that he had left behind then, and your hands fly to his wrist.

“this will never free you,” you choke out, tears brimming in your eyes that make your vision blurry. this way, when you look at him, his features are so unfocused that he almost looks like he used to, when he was sane. kind. “do you not understand? this will not bring her back. you will be truly alone.”

“better to be alone than living with you as a reminder of what i have lost,” he says softly, the sharp blade of the knife pressed to your side, stinging as it nicks your skin. 

you close your eyes, resigned to your fate. this was how it was going to end, no matter what. you, suffering from the result of his hands, his jolted mind. you, a mere ghost of your mother, biding your time in this world until he decided that you had none left. living a life that would never truly be your own. 

no.

your eyes fly open and meet his and he hesitates, the knife pulling back the smallest bit. you take the chance, your hand moves from one of his wrists to the other and you twist, taking in a sharp breath when he gasps and lets the knife clatter to the floor. he lets go of your neck and you drop, grabbing the handle of the knife with a shaky hand and slashing upwards, hoping that it would land somewhere. 

he drops to the floor with a howl of pain, clutching at his thigh, and in the next moment you’re on top of him, pinning him to the floor with a knee to his stomach. the knife is still in your hand, unmoving from how strongly your fingers were grasped around the handle. it would be so easy to plunge it into his chest, so simple. you would finally be free. 

you barely register when several knights finally barge into the hall, swords pointed at the two of you. your focus was purely on the man under you, at the madness swimming in his eyes and the ugly curl of his mouth shaped in scowl. 

“you will not do it. you are weak,” he wheezes out, confident even as he struggles to speak from your weight on him.

you raise the knife. 

a moment of tense silence. 

and felix calls out your name. the only voice that could break you away from the trance you were in. his lovely voice, shaped in your name. 

when you meet his eyes you drop the knife, and you’re pushed away from your father when by knights who move to secure him in shackles. you stand on wobbly feet, taking in the hall - felix, hovering by your side, hands raised as if he wanted to touch you but couldn’t. chris, standing by his father’s side, supporting him as he rises from the floor. blood drips down his side, but not an alarming amount. he would be fine. your own father, cursing angrily at the guards who were keeping him restrained, his words passing through you with no recognition.

you’re sure you looked horrible, in this moment. hair a mess, chest still heaving, clothes torn. you didn’t belong here. you drop your father’s papers that you kept hidden in your clothing to the ground, watching them flutter before settling, face up for all to see.

“i will leave at first light,” is the last thing you say before leaving the king, the princes, and your father behind you.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you didn’t look at your own reflection until the next morning. your face was a horrible painting of blues and blacks, and the bruises on your neck are fading into green, though you’re sure more were forming underneath them. 

you look horrible.

you didn’t come with many things, and most of them were unnecessary for where you were about to go; traveling into the woods didn’t require fancy dresses and jewelry, so as you packed your bag you left them behind. 

the last thing you expected was for felix to push the door to your chambers open, a noisier affair than you were used to from the way the door banged against the wall. 

“you are still here,” he breathes out, panting a bit like he ran here. he eyes the bag you were holding warily.

“i am,” you answer, fear seeping into your veins as he moves closer to you. not of him, never of him, but of the power he held over you. of the way his words could break your heart into more fractures than it already was in. 

“your father is in line for execution, at midday,” he informs, placing a hand on top of yours when he reaches you, his warm skin stinging the ice-cold skin of your own. 

“good,” it’s the only thing you can think to say. the only reaction you can muster from learning that your father was about to die, like you had wished him to.

“chris told me what you asked him to do,” he says, voice low. “i did not stay long enough to hear the whole story, when he told me the other day. i came to you in anger, and i did not listen to you either. i am sorry.”

his voice wobbles in sorrow, and it breaks your heart. 

“no, do not be,” you whisper, flipping your hand around so you could tangle your fingers with his. you wanted to feel him like this, at least one more time. “i should have been honest with you. when i chose to go against him, when i chose you, i should have told you.”

“you were scared,” he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “of him. and of us, i presume. i cannot fault you for that.”

“i was scared, but-” you cut yourself off, trying to find the right words. he waits for you patiently, eyes trained on your features. “since my mother died, my life has not been my own. i have not been allowed to make my own decisions, i don’t know how to…do this. that is no one’s fault but my own.”

“this?” he asks, velvet soft as he seeks for clarification. 

“to be honest about things. to trust people with what’s going on. to…not be scared of people’s reactions,” even this show of candor was sending your heart into a frenzied pace. “i do not know how.”

“then let me teach you,” you can hear the tears in his voice but you don’t look up to meet them. you didn’t think you could handle it. selfish. “please. i do not know what you are planning to do - after, but please do not leave.”

“felix, i have never felt more free than i have here, in this kingdom, with your people. with your family,” you squeeze your fingers around his hand, the only thing you could bring yourself to do. “with you. you have already taught me so much. how do i continue to take and take from you like this?” 

“you do not owe me anything,” he vows, bowing his head a bit. “anything i give to you, i give gladly. i act without thinking and i make rash decisions, too. do not think that i am not learning from you in turn. if it were not for jeongin finding me and explaining things to me yesterday, i would have done something horrid. i could have lost you, do you understand? you and i, we are not so different.”

jeongin. once this was all over, you were going to award that boy a house. or a village. whatever he wanted.

“did he do this to you?” he says when you don’t answer, raising one hand to the bruising around your neck and another to your cheek, feather-light fingertips tracing along the lines. “did he hurt you?”

“yes,” you breathe out, admitting for the first time to someone other than yourself what kind of man your father truly is. letting yourself accept that maybe, it was not your fault. that maybe, you deserved something better. 

you stayed.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

chris meets the two of you outside your chambers hours later, looking more exhausted than you’ve seen him before. he takes in your linked hands with a smile.

“felix told you?” he asks, gentle. you nod, leaning into felix. “i am sorry, that i did not do more. that it came to that.”

“do not apologize,” you say, resolute. “if anyone should be sorry, it is me. for putting you all through this.”

“if anyone needs to apologize, it is your father,” felix swears, his grip on your hand tightening. “if he was not already on his way, i would kill him myself for hurting you.”

you squeeze his hand back, hoping the gesture would bring him some comfort. violence was not a color that you think shaded felix often, but you couldn’t deny that his protectiveness was attractive.

it is chris’ duty to oversee the affair, but you cannot bring yourself to accompany him. the thought of seeing your father again, restrained and awaiting death, was not something that you wished to experience. 

felix stays with you, guiding you through the halls and into his bed, holding you tight the entire time. his presence by your side is overrides the myriad of negative emotions inside of you and for once, your mind is quiet, failing to remind you that you needing felix in this moment was self-serving. it’s as if the thoughts were dying along with your last-living relative.

you wished that you felt happy, relieved to be released from him. or even sorrow, full of grief for your lost father. but you felt nothing.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

chris enters felix’ chambers at dusk, waking you and felix from the sleep that neither of you intended to fall into. 

“my father wishes to see you,” he addresses to you, waiting with leveled patience as the two of you slowly rise from the bed.

“is he angry?” your voice comes out as a whisper, betraying your anxiety.

“yes, but not at you,” he assures, settling a hand on your shoulder, his touch light. “do not worry.”

but you did worry, all throughout the walk to the king’s advisory chambers to when you enter the door, startling him out of whatever hushed conversation he was engaged in with his staff. when he looks at you he is angry, and you’re glad in that moment for christopher’s warning. you moved with more confidence than you truly had, chris and felix’ presence at your sides helping more than you cared to admit. 

“you wanted to see me, sire?” you ask, your hands wringing together. felix takes one of them into his own, if only to stop your movements.

“i wanted to discuss things with you,” stephen waves off his advisors, waiting for them to leave the chambers before continuing. “regarding your father.”

“my father is dead,” you state plainly, moving forward until you were in front of the king. “i swear fealty to you, my lord.”

you slowly knelt at his feet, gasping in surprise when felix knelt by your side. 

“whatever i can do to prove my loyalty, i will do it,” you assured, keeping your head down. normally, you would internally bristle at the thought of kneeling before a king like this, in an act of submission, but this time it was different. this time, it was your choice. 

“you have proven your loyalty by going against your own kin, my child,” his voice was thick with emotion. “please, stand.”

you don’t, until felix does and pulls you along with him. you’re confused at his immediate acceptance of you, the daughter of a man who wished him such ill-will. you look at him and you’re sure he can see the puzzlement on your face.

“i did not ask for you here to make you prove yourself,” he explains, gesturing at the papers strewn about the table. your father’s notes. “i simply wished to thank you, for preventing such heinous acts from occurring. these notes…” he pauses, as if gathering his thoughts. “are unsettling. more were found in his chambers, detailing increasingly vicious flights of fancy.”

you would learn later that in your father’s notes were his plans for you, for once his own were executed. perhaps stephen felt pity for you as a result of what he saw. when you meet eyes with the king, any trace of anger is gone, replaced with a deep kind of sadness.

“thank you, for keeping my family safe at the sake of your own welfare. anything you wish for, i will grant it.” 

your mind screams at you that you don’t deserve it, that you had put them in more harm than anything, that he doesn’t owe you any kindness. 

“i wish for nothing that i do not already have,” you glance at felix, shooting him a small smile when you notice the pride gleaming on his face. 

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

it takes less of jumping through diplomatic hoops than you would have expected to sign your kingdom over to stephen. the lands were adjacent to one another, so rearranging property lines was as simple as removing a single line from a parchment map. you learned that it was more common than you had originally thought to combine kingdoms, though usually it resulted from acts of war. you were queen for all of two days before officially resigning.

your father, for all his boasting, did not carry many alliances with other nations, and the ones he did have stephen was glad to cut off. your father’s knights did little more than grumble about having to change their colors, and the ones that refused to were promptly dismissed from service.

the castle that was once your home was a different case; you never wished to go back there, other than to gather the things that still held your mother’s touch. that place hasn’t been a home to you in a while, but you decided that it could be a home to someone. 

it would take some time, but you had plans to turn the palace into an orphanage. a place where everyone and anyone could come and seek shelter, food and water, and company. it was the least you could do for your people, who had suffered under your blind eye for over a decade while you sat in your chambers, ignorant to all that was going on outside the palace walls.

the biggest relief was the weight of your kingdom off of your shoulders. maybe it was selfish to think that way, but you had never asked for that life. you knew your people were in better hands with stephen than they ever would have been with your bloodline, and you could think of no better successors than chris and roseanne. 

you had your ladies in waiting brought from your old palace, but they did little more than help you dress. jeongin had become your formal assistant, but you considered him a friend and a confidant more than anything. you had offered him and his family whatever he wanted, now that the riches your father held were in your name, but he had refused. he simply asked for a new house in the lower village for his parents and siblings, but stated that he wished to remain in the castle. 

you and felix decided to hold off on announcing a formal betrothal, deeming it wiser to let the kingdom that had nearly doubled in size settle first. you had not been together long, after all, and most of your time together was spent with you under a guise. you took the time to relearn each other, to memorize every miniscule detail of the other’s personality, your habits and your mannerisms and your preferences. despite your earlier reservations, propriety mattered little with the two of you; you spent even more time together than you did before, and you had all but moved into his chambers, only using yours when you wanted someplace quiet to think. 

you don’t remember a time when you were happier than you were now. for the first time in your life, you looked toward the future with brightness.  

[charlottecutepie]

𐙚 How was your date, doll? (William Afton x fem!reader)

In honor of reaching >200 followers, this is a little gift from me <3 thanks for your feedback, comments and reblogs, it means a lot to me!!

After a bad date, your boss William Affon is more than glad to help you.

tags: nsfw, smut, fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, public sex, pet names, doggy style, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, degrading and praising, dirty talk, dumbification, sir kink, manipulations, secret filming

You have been working for William not so long ago, but you have already become his most beloved employee. He treats you in a special way, even forgiving you for being late. He likes to hand you a cup of coffee in the morning when he sees his beloved girl yawning adorably, still sleepy on the morning shift. He likes to stroke your hair gently at the end of the day, thanking you for your work. He truly appreciates you.

He has been watching you for a long time, noting your habits, your communication style, your gestures. You're so friendly, even already found friends in the team. William saw that many people liked you, visitors and colleagues, of course, such a good and smiling doll. He often wondered if his lovely girl had a boyfriend. Most likely, yes? You're so pretty and sweet, your eyes, lips, nose, everything is so beautiful about you, of course you have a boyfriend. William must be an idiot if he even allowed the idea that his girl was single.

But there was still hope, so he decided to test the water.

“You look so tired, doll. How about I give you a ride to your house?” he killed two birds with one stone. A pet name and ride offer. How will his baby react? William is holding himself together, nothing superfluous, right? It's just goodwill. You're so tired, barely standing on your feet.

“That's so sweet of you, Mr. Afton,” you look at him in surprise and the corners of your lips rise. “yeah, please, I'm so exhausted and my feet hurt.” It's the first time you've got in his car. Doubts crept into William's mind, if you had a boyfriend, you'd turn him down, right?

It's so interesting to talk to you, you're a good listener, and William has a lot to tell you, and at the same time ask you a couple of questions while you're sleepy. Just to make sure that his girl isn't in a relationship.

As he drops you off at your house, William tries his best to look casual. “Goodnight, doll,” he whispers softly, gently stroking a lock of your hair behind your ear. And here's another action that you didn't reject. If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn't let other man touch you like that, would you?

More time has passed, and with it more names have been added to you, more touches, more glances from Mr. Afton. You got along pretty well, William always found an approach to people. However his affection for you only grows stronger, but your personal life is changing too, just yesterday one person invited you on a date. If only William knew.

He's suspicious; something about your demeanor today isn't quite right. You're obviously acting more cheerful than usual, wearing makeup for the first time he's seen you which somehow makes you even more beautiful. You whisper to your friends, giggle softly, covering your mouth with your hand, a slight blush on your cheeks. Who are you talking about? William's gut tells him there's something different about his beloved girl today. What are you hiding?

“Mr. Afton?” his thoughts and assumptions are interrupted by your voice, he adjusts his glasses, slightly lost, he clearly wasn't listening to what you asked him a minute ago. He politely asks you to repeat it. “Uhm. . . I was wondering if I could leave early today?”

William raises an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Why exactly? Work isn't over yet.” a small smile tugs at his lips. “Unless there's some emergency. . .”

“It's just that I have an important meeting today.” your palms sweating slightly and your voice doesn't sound as confident as you want.

He raises his eyebrows, an amused gleam in his eyes. “A meeting, huh? Sounds interesting. Who is it with?”

And that's when you can no longer fight the feeling that you're lying to a person who trusts you a lot. Your excitement is becoming more noticeable and William already understands that this isn't an ordinary meeting. He's not stupid, but his jealous nature didn't want to believe to the last that you'd sooner or later find someone. And that's when he hears from his sweet girl, “I'm going on a date, sir,” fuck, the way you say it in such happy and naive tone, as if yourself can't fully realize it yet.

He doesn't want to let you go, he hates the idea of someone touching his beloved girl, kissing your lips, having. . . sex with you?

But everything changes the very next day, when you appear at work with your head down, your sweet face is tinged with sadness. You're distracted, silent, thoughtful.

“How was your date, doll?” a question when you don't expect it at all. The shift was already coming to an end, and you, all confused in your thoughts, didn't even notice. You give him a sad look, hoping that he'll read the answer in your eyes. But William still looks worried, even though he knows what happened, he needs his girl to admit it.

You look around. “I don't really want to talk about it.” you mumble.

You're just shy because you don't want anyone else to hear, William knows. That's why he leans towards you, too close. “Let's go to my office.” he offers, his voice tempting.

When you find yourself in his office, he closes the door behind you and sits down on a small couch in the corner, beckoning you to join him. You feel a little stiff and insecure, but as soon as you sit down next to Mr. Afton, your anxiety evaporates, and you feel a bit better. You trust him very much, you really need to hear a second opinion, especially from such a mature and experienced person as William Afton, who, although divorced, was married anyway. It's hard to hide your emotions, especially when you're new to this experience and relationships overall, when it's your first kisses, touches, hugs.

That's when he looks so sympathetic, interested in helping you and says, “Tell me what happened.” you obediently blurt out everything. You explain to him, your voice quiet and sometimes you're silent, as if afraid to say too much. You tell William everything, how your date started out sweet, romantic, how good it was in the beginning, and then when he started touching you, kissing not only your lips, but also your neck and collarbone, you stopped liking it. It became unbearable, uncomfortable, you didn't want this person, you felt no desire. It's an inexplicable feeling that you've experienced. And in some way, you even blame yourself for rejecting your so called boyfriend.

“I was lost, so I let him touch me. I knew that sooner or later we would go further, but for some reason I didn't want to do this with. . .” you pause thoughtfully. “him.”

“Did he touch you here?” William puts his hand on your thigh. You shudder, such a strange question that you definitely never expected. But trusting William, you think that's the way it should be and nod. “Was it unpleasant or uncomfortable?”

“I didn't feel anything,” you shrug helplessly. “and then it felt like he didn't understand my signal and started kissing me more aggressively, it was too much for me.”

“It's completely normal to feel this way,” William explains, stroking your thigh. “Some people just can't be physically attracted to certain partners. It's not a reflection on you. The important thing is that you listen to your own body and emotions, if something doesn't feel right, trust yourself enough to speak up.” he's trying to ease your discomfort, as he talks, his fingers move slowly higher on your leg, gradually reaching closer to a forbidden zone.

You get goosebumps, immediately there's a feeling of warmth that spreads nicely through your body, such an acute reaction to William's touch, something that you never experienced with your boyfriend.

You're his naive little bunny, so trusting, sweet, blinded, yet curious about his opinion, craving his advice and help, support. “Your body knows what it wants, princess. You felt weird because your gut told you he wasn't the right one to satisfy you. On a subconscious level, you realized that he's not the person you would like to give yourself to. You need someone who understands your body. Someone capable enough to pleasure you, doll.”

William notices something much more than just guilt in your eyes, something sparking in them. That's when he catches your gaze on his lips, your eyes dreamy, as if you're not listening to him at all.

“I can give you that, darling. You deserve to be satisfied fully, someone who knows what they're doing and won't disappoint you.” you contemplating his words, comparing him to your boyfriend; William seems more understanding, experienced and dominant than any man you knew. “because I'm well aware of how to pleasure a girl like you.”

You don't pull away and let William kiss you, his hand squeezes your thigh, causing you to moan softly into his mouth. This is the first time you've felt so sensitive, you gasp when finally his hand slides to your clothed pussy. Your brows furrow and you let out a sudden “ahhh” as you pull away, lips parted. William continues moving his palm all over your core, his fingers rubbing you through panties, your skirt hiking up.

“You're wet just because I kissed you, doll. Was it different with him?”

“Much different,” you breathe out. “this. . . feels better.” your pussy throbbing in anticipation as his fingers push the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing you to his hungry eyes. “Sir, i don't know if—"

“I want to help you figure this out. We're already halfway there, we've already found out that your body doesn't want him, honey. I don't want you to get upset about yourself or men, I don't want you to think that sex is something unpleasant.” he understands that his little girl still in doubt, that you're shy, your face is confused, your lips are pursed, you're afraid to make a moan, but your eyes speak for you. So pleading, so needy, begging.

His thumb caresses your sensitive bundle and you whimper, grinding subtly against his finger, wanting more of those new sensations. Your curious gaze drops lower, noticing a distinct bulge in William's pants. “He had one too when we kissed. . .”  you mutter. William gently guides your hand towards the outline of his erection through his pants.

“Of course he did,” he husks out. “It's impossible not to get hard around someone as beautiful as you.” William feels like his dick is about to explode right in his pants as your hand hesitantly starts stroking his bulge. You've never felt anything so hard before; he notices his little girl's eyes widen at the size of him, making you even wetter. “That's right, babygirl. Let your hands explore, feel just how much you affect me.”

“Has he ever made you cum, doll?”

“No, i couldn't. . .”

“Then let me take care of that.” William doesn't stop rubbing your little clit with his fingers, moving in smooth circle movements, what makes your head spin. You spread your legs wider due to overwhelming bliss, breathing heavily, your hand no longer on his bulge as you hold onto his wrist instead, as if trying to stop him or control, but not really, yourself don't know what your doing.

“Ahh— Nn, that feels weird!. . .” your body writhing beneath his touch. “S-sir, wait, wait!” you moan, he never stops stroking your wet folds.

“Just let go, babygirl, it's okay, you're supposed to feel that way.” he purrs in your ear. The sounds you're making are too loud, but beautiful for a man like William, so he doesn't give a fuck, rubbing your clit just a little bit faster to bring you to orgasm. As you cum, your body shudder uncontrollably, your hole clenching around nothing. “Such a good girl.” you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the gasps escaping your lips, because you've never felt anything as this before.

His erection aches painfully in his pants at the sight of his girl coming in his arms. You just realize what happened. “S-sir. . . That—”

“Didn't expect you to cum that fast.” he smirks and continues stroking your sensitive clit even after your orgasm subsides, making you jolt. You feel embarrassed at this comment now. “Now that's what happens when you're in hands of experienced man, princess.”

His words and especially calm yet dominating tone of voice have your pussy throbbing with need again, your mind hazy. You blink couple of times, still trying to come to your senses, but it's so fucking hard when his hands never leave your body, caressing you, even groping you. You bat your eyelashes at him as his fingers teases your wet entrance.

“Your body didn't react that way to him, did it?”

“No. . . ” you whisper.

“That's what I thought," he hums, finally slipping one finger inside your warm, wet cunt. You immediately gasp, feeling sudden stretch, William takes a deep breath as you squeeze his finger. “such a tight little pussy. No wonder your boyfriend couldn't get you even wet.” he pumps his finger in and out of you, watching your face contorted with pleasure.

“Sir, ohh. . .”

“That's it, keep calling me that and I'll make sure to train this pussy cumming only on my cock and fingers,” he growls, adding another finger inside your already wet slit while kissing a trail along your neck. He pinches and rolls your clit between his fingers. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be out there as a dried up little bitch who never got any satisfaction.”

“No, oh!. . .” you babble and glance at him in surprise, not expecting such degrading words, but as soon as your messy pussy clenches on his fingers, he can't help, but laugh. “Too much—”

“It's okay, bunny,” William curls his fingers up inside you, pressing on that sweet and sensitive spot that have you choking on your moans. “I'm just giving you what that prick of yours supposed to, making you squirt over my fingers, feels good, hm?” that's when he picks up a speed, finger-fucking you in fast rhythm, a small puddle forms on the couch under you.

“Waittt!. . . Ohh god, i can't! It feels so weird, sir,” there's panic in your voice as now this feeling is definitely not comparable to the previous orgasm, you sob and maintain eye contact with William, too shy to look down. He's pumping his fingers in your tight pussy, reaching deeper. “Please, wait!”

Your mouth hangs open and eyes roll back as you coat coach under you and drip on his fingers. William enjoys that cute scared and confused look on his little girl's face, he can feel the hotness of your cunt as you squirt, wet sloppy fucking filthy sounds it makes. You look absolutely hot and there's no way he's that lucky to finally have you in his hands.

“Damn it, doll, you should be grateful that I'm here teaching you how to properly fuck.” William pulls his fingers out, a satisfied smirk as he looks at the mess he created. “I bet you don't even know what an orgasm feels like until I gave it to you.”

Your eyes full with tears, body weak as you watch how William sucks his fingers clean, groaning at your heavenly taste. He manhandles you, putting you on all fours, slipping your panties off and unbuttoning your shirt to have access to your bare breasts. You don't even get what's going on, it's like your brain has leaked out through your pussy, but you love the way he behaves. That's what you needed. You press back into him and then hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, you nervous, but still glance over your shoulder with puppy eyes, lips pouty and cheeks burning. William pulls down his pants and reveals his cock.

“Tell me, princess, did the thought of his dick turn you on?“ you shake your head, he sighs. “You made a mistake, admit it, you stumbled, but you know, you're still a good girl because you came to your senses in time. You came to me, as a good girl should, that's because you know you need something better than him.” William's words make you almost cry at how true they are. In fact, you didn't like your boyfriend, you just didn't want to admit it, just was happy someone noticed you and liked you, but having a man like William around, it was hard not to succumb.

“It didn't feel right with him, as if there should have been someone other. . . Not him.” William teases his tip against your slit, rubbing sensually, you grip the couch, too desperate to finally feel him inside.

“You made the right decision, doll, you know that I'll always help you.” he tells you, while his hands carefully and gently fix your hair, all this time you feel his swollen cock runs through your folds. “It's good that you came to me, because someone else could just take advantage of you. But not me, sweetie, I'm here for you.”

“Please, sir, put it in, please—”

“You didn't beg him like that, did you?” his hands grabs your hips, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave marks.

You shook your head, feeling a real fire igniting inside as your body doesn't obey, but begs for what it didn't receive on yesterday's date. A real good fuck.

“That's right,” he smacks your ass, pushing only tip inside of you, but that already enough to make your eyes widen and choked cry escape from your mouth. “you should feel lucky that I've taken notice of you and offered my help. Imagine if some other filthy jerk had gotten ahold of such clueless doll like you?”

“No, mr. Afton,” you're not yet able to realize what that feeling is, because you simply don't know, you're mindless, but every nerve is on edge, you're trembling with desperation. “i don't want anyone else, just you!”

“Fuck, you're so fucking hot inside, bunny,” William groans huskily as he pushes his length fully, your walls welcoming him with warmness and crazy tightness. Your knees weak, but William's hands wraps around you, not letting his precious girl fall. He leans towards you, almost pressing you into the couch, his breath on your skin. “sh, sh, babygirl, don't cry, don't cry,” he mutters in your ear while slowly starting to move. He frowns, trying not to moan loudly himself, but how can he hold back when your little pussy is so perfectly wrapped around his dick? So wet, warm and— “oh fuuuck, bunny!. . .”

You're shaking under him, mewling loudly and drooling as you cum, just from having his cock inside. Your eyes filled with sweet tears and nonstop “ohmygoood” slipping from your lips.

“You're full of surprises, dear.” William smiles and presses your head into the couch to shut you up. You can't make noise in the workplace, the most important rule. And that's when he fucks all the air and the last remnants of the brain out of you, starting to slam into your throbbing cunt. “Your taking me so well.”

William's dick presses deeper into you, your back arches. He knows what he does to you, but you don't, not yet. You swear you can feel his cock already penetrating where it's impossible, so deep in you that it begins to cause discomfort and pain. But you can't stop the madness that's going on, completely forgotten even your boyfriend's name, and what happened yesterday, as if no date ever happened. As if everything is as it should be, William Afton balls deep inside you, fucking your brains out, as it should be. All you can do is feel his cock filling you up, as it should.

“Nnggh— that feels, ohh— please!” you say through watery eyes, trying to wiggle your ass to draw him deeper into your pussy, but his grip on you is firm, so you have no choice but to just let yourself be used as a fleshlight.

Oh, poor little helpless and needy doll, William thinks. He sees how you grip the couch tighter, your glassy eyes, vision blurry, head empty, but cunt filled.

“You shouldn't have ignored your desires before.” he groans. “You're such a good girl, you deserve my dick, every fucking inch of it. I'll make you my little slut, who'll come to me at the end of the shift to have her pussy well fucked and filled with my cum. Every weekend at my place, where you can scream as loud as you want as I ruin your pussy.”

“That, nnngh— sounds so beautiful, sir.” you turn your head slightly towards William and give him the perfect view of how messy you are, dumbfounded, with silly smile on your peachy face, brows furrowed, drooling, your gaze isn't focused on him.

He thrusts roughly into you and you cry loudly when his tip reaches your cervix. He fucks you into oblivion. You're nearing your orgasm, your pussy preparing to cum one more time. William ruts deep into you, having no mercy on his girl as he lets his cock slide along your walls. The beautiful sounds your pussy squelching, your muffled cries and begs, of skin slapping filling his office.

“Yeahhh, I'll take care of you, don't you worry.” he grunts, you're breathless and limp in his arms, but when his hand travels down, his fingers finding your clit and starting to circle it, your closing your legs, shaking. “Spread them.” he commands you, but you can't really obey as your clit is way too sensitive and overstimulated. “I said spread your damn legs, doll.”

“No, no, sir, please— too sensitive, i can't!” you whine, your throat dry, but that only annoy him so he forces your legs open. His pace getting faster and his fingers rubbing on your bundle, what makes your mouth open in silent scream.

Soon his thrusts become sloppier, his dick twitching from how tight your clenching on him as if trying to milk him dry. William buries his cock deep inside you, low quiet moan leaves him as he spills his seed against your cervix, claiming you as his. Your orgasm hits you in next seconds, right after William's, what makes him laugh almost mockingly when he sees how his little doll becoming shaking mess, your hips moving in smooth circles as you cum, feeling warmth of his sperm inside you.

“Th. . . Thank you, mr. Afton.” William pulls out and his cum starts leaking of your used hole little by little.

You close your eyes and weaken, falling onto the couch fully now. Your panties on the floor, which is already stained with your juices mixed with his sperm, you don't even want to look there. No, right now you're not ashamed, not embarrassed, you just don't give a fuck, you felt so good that you won't be able to come to your senses for a long time. Even the glass of water that William handed you with big care won't bring you to reality. You're so tired that you don't even notice William turning off the camera in the corner of his office.

[asonofpeter]

It's My Party

Pairing: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Plus-Sized!Best Friend!Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Rafe's birthday, so he could do whatever he wants, right?

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NON-C0N/DUB-C0N, substance use, alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), nipple play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

A/N: Woah! Where'd this come from? I honestly have no idea, I wrote this in like three days and I love it. My first full Rafe fic? YAY! I've been kinda down so I'm glad I was able to write this! Also pictures in moodboard are my personal perceptions of how Reader looks, doesn't translate into the story besides her being a plus-size queen! Enjoy! 💕💕💕

PLEASE HEED WARNINGS BEFORE READING! I DON'T CONSENT TO THIS WORK BEING REPOSTED, COPIED OR TRANSLATED!

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s my birthday,” Rafe chuckled, leaning back on his arms on your bed. “I wanna make sure the hottest girl at the party is wearing a pretty outfit,” he said, his striking blue eyes running over your frame. 

Your mouth fell open at his comment. You stared back at yourself in the mirror, studying the outfit Rafe had gotten for you. 

It was a dainty light pink sun dress with cherries on it paired with a matching ruffled tie-up cover. It was cute, feminine, soft. 

Just like you. 

“It’s not your birthday yet, Rafe,” you shook your head with a smile, glancing at your best friend before running your hands over the cotton.

“But it will be,” he replied. “So what do you think?” He referred back to the outfit. He had stood up by then, stalking over to you so that his front brushed with your back. The heat of him radiating onto your skin. 

The heat between your legs grew, but you forced it away. Shaking your head clear of any possibilities, you glanced in the mirror to look your best friend in the eyes. 

His intense stare was already on you.

“I love the outfit, but I don’t know about it making me the hottest girl at the party,” you snorted before walking away from the mirror to grab your clothes to change back into. You felt him roll his eyes at your statement but you ignored it as you turned back around to face him.

“You’re already the hottest girl, so that won’t be a problem,” he said, eyes darkening. 

This time you rolled your eyes.

“Really?” You scoffed. “You’re aware that the blonde skinny chicks are going to be throwing themselves at you, right? You won’t even notice I’m there,” you blew out a breath.

While you were comfortable in your own skin, loving your stomach rolls, stretch marks, and flabby skin—you also knew that you weren’t society's beauty standard. So it always confused you when Rafe flirted with you.

He would call you hot one minute and the next you’re seeing a blonde skinny girl walk out of his room with her clothes disheveled.

Still, he was just your best friend and you’re sure he only meant it for a fun laugh. He was never serious. 

As you were about to go into your bathroom, leaving the conversation, you felt a firm hand wrap around your arm.

“Why would I pay attention to those girls when I have you?” He questioned, face hard as he stared at you. “It’s my party and if I say you’re gonna be the hottest girl there, then you’re going to be the hottest girl there,” he squeezed you slightly. 

You exhaled sharply, dropping your gaze as you felt your cheeks flush once more. Sometimes you wondered if Rafe was truly attracted to you or if it was all a big lie just to get in your pants. “Okay, didn’t know it was a big deal,” you ripped your arm away from his grip. 

You also wondered if that curiosity was the reason you knew you’d never want to explore a relationship with him. Curiosity killed the cat and what you have with Rafe now is more than perfect for you to be wandering on a side of regret.

“Just wanted to make it known,” he shrugged, stepping back. “So do you like the outfit?” He asked.

Your face softened as you smiled. “Of course, I love it,” you emphasized, earning a smile from him. You closed the bathroom door behind you leaving him in your room.

Rafe had come over just like any other day. You expected you’d be driving to the club like always but today he had a bag from your favorite store in his hand. His smile brightened at the way your face lit up at the sight of it. 

You assumed it was another piece of jewelry or a handbag he made a habit of buying you. But no, it was an outfit this time around. And it was actually your size. Part of you wondered how he guessed so accurately but then you realized you weren’t giving him enough credit. 

He had bought you a cute outfit for a special occasion, and you were happy. 

“Are we still going to the country club? I’ve been craving their strawberry-mango smoothie,” you stated as you walked out of the bathroom, knowing the fruity drink had been on your mind since you had it well over two weeks ago. 

“We could do whatever you want,” he grinned.

~

There were few things in life Rafe enjoyed. And his birthday was one of them.

It was the one day out of the year that was about him. The one day out of the year when Sarah wasn’t the favorite. The one day out of the year that his dad didn’t look at him with disappointment or disapproval. It was the one day out of the year that he was celebrated just for existing. 

Most importantly, you would go all out. Planning him the perfect day to make him feel extra special. He doesn’t think he’d have any other person do that for him.

The thought brought a smile to his face and it only grew when you opened the door, greeting him immediately.

“Happy birthday!” You wrapped your arms around him, shoving your face in the crook of his neck. 

He wrapped his arms around you, enjoying the smell of your perfume.

“Mr. 21,” you smirked, pulling away. “You feel old?” You joked.

“Not yet,” he reached up to push a piece of hair out of your face. “You look beautiful as always,” he complimented, loving the way you grew flustered. He raked his gaze over your body, taking in each curve, craving to touch the softness of your body, but he noticed a big thing was missing. “Where’s the outfit?” He questioned. 

“It’s in here,” you held up the bag in your hand. “That’s my party outfit, but we’re going golfing and I don’t want to sweat in it,” you explained. 

“I was gonna say,” he smirked before nodding towards his truck, implying it was time to go.

“Have some faith in me, Rafe,” you gazed at him, your eyes sending him a look he couldn’t decipher but his mind told him what he wanted to believe. 

He chuckled in response as he opened the door for you. 

“I have all my faith in you”.

Rafe knew it was the right thing to put all his faith in you. No one ever cared for him more than you, loved him more than you, treated him with respect more than you. You were safe, warm, and reliable. 

He glanced over as you watched the scenery pass by. You had your hands folded neatly in your lap, your skirt stretching over your thick thighs he craved to have wrapped around his waist or his head. 

You were goddamn gorgeous and the thought of you created an unquenchable thirst. Hell, he’s been thirsty since he realized he was attracted to you back in high school. But you were so fucking oblivious to his flirtatious remarks that you’ve never been more than best friends.

Curling his fingers around the steering wheel, he pushed the thought to the back of his head. Focusing on the road.

You arrived at the club shortly later, your water bottle in hand as you made it to the golf carts. You had one job today—sit pretty and cheer Rafe on.

Turning in your seat to face the course, you waved at the two men waiting on Rafe. They waved back before greeting the man of honor. Soon they started their game, Rafe’s name leaving your lips every time he hit the ball.

You didn’t understand the sport, found it rather boring. But it was his birthday so you faked your way through it with the biggest smile on your face. It wasn’t until you were done reapplying your sunscreen that he called your name.

Lifting your head to find him at the bottom of the short hill, he waved you over. You met him and the boys there, a puzzled look on your face.

“It’s the last hole, why don’t you give it a shot?” He grinned, eyes shielded from his sunglasses but you could still feel his intense gaze. 

Sticking your sunglasses in your hair, you squinted to where the flag was. “I don’t know how to play,” you stated matter-of-factly. “Besides, you guys are having fun, I’m just the cheerleader,” you puffed out a small laugh.

“It’s my birthday, c’mon,” Rafe tipped his head. “It’ll be fun,” he encouraged. “I’ll show you”.

You let out a soft breath, caving in. “Just this once,” you pointed. You stepped in front of Rafe’s welcoming stance, allowing him to envelope his arms around you. 

He showed you where to place your hands and position your fingers, his hands on top of yours. Almost every inch of him was pressed against you—his hands rested on your forearms, his chest against your back, and his front pressing against your ass. 

You gulped as the feeling made you hot before you attempted to ignore the proximity but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. And when he swung the club, following through, you smelled the masculine scent of his cologne, your knees buckling.

“Atta girl,” he grinned, stepping away to watch as the ball landed close to the hole.

“Damn, Y/N,” Kelce chuckled. 

“You should join us for the full game next time,” Topper smirked.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Thanks, guys, but I’m sitting out any future games,” you smiled. 

“You just need a little more convincing,” Rafe slid his arm around your shoulders. 

The four of you began heading back to the carts. Top and Kelce were in front while you and Rafe stayed behind.

“How’s your birthday so far?” 

“It’s more than perfect”.

~

“Wow,” Rafe smirked, watching as you walked out of his bathroom, now changed into the outfit he had specifically picked out for you. He reached for your hand, raising it in the air so you could spin. “You’re incredible,” he breathed out, in a complete daze.

“Rafe,” you dragged, avoiding his gaze as the heat grew on your face. “Thanks for the outfit, it’s really nice,” you played with the sleeves of the cropped cardigan. “But it was really expensive, I-,” you began, but he raised a hand.

“You’ll find a way to repay me,” he finished your thought, his blue eyes darkening. “But right now, we’re gonna celebrate my birthday,” he pointed over his shoulder towards the door where the party was starting.

With your hand in his, you nodded, letting him pull you along. 

You met up with Kelce and Top in the kitchen, everyone wishing Rafe a happy birthday as you passed. You thanked Kelce as he handed you a cup of water. The night was still young so you had enough time to catch up with the rest of the partygoers.

Leaning against the counter, you listened to the guys' conversation, droning in and out of it when parts became boring. It wasn’t until you spotted a few girls making their way toward the group, that a smile appeared on your face when you figured they came for Rafe.

While you held some feelings for Rafe, all you wanted was for him to settle down with a nice girl. One you could maybe be friends with too. It was a little fantasy you had.

“I love your dress, Y/N,” one of the girls complimented, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

The three Kook girls were standing in front of you and Rafe. You were a bit shocked that they acknowledged you first, but you welcomed their kindness.

“Thanks,” you rolled your lips together in a smile. “Your earrings are so cute,” you gestured to the gold hoops she had. 

She hummed before her attention turned to Rafe. “Happy birthday, Rafe,” she brushed her hand along his arm, squeezing his bicep. “Me and a few of my friends are gonna head into the pool if you wanna join,” she batted her lashes.

“Maybe later,” he pressed his lips together in a smile. “I’m with my friend right now,” he slid his arm over your shoulders.

You furrowed your brows, glancing at him like he was insane for turning down her offer. “He’s kidding,” you butted in. “You guys have fun,” you pressed a hand on his back, urging him closer to the girl.

“Awesome!” She beamed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the patio.

Rafe glanced back at you with a look you couldn’t decipher but as he noticed the smile on your lips he only turned back around, shaking his head and chuckling. 

You knew he’d thank you later just as Kelce and Topper did when the other two girls dragged them along to the pool as well. You grabbed your water from the counter before weaving through the house. Just as you were about to go outside for some fresh air, you bumped into someone.

“Shit, my bad,” they apologized, placing a hand on your arm. “You okay?”

You gazed up to see a very handsome guy—tall, with dark eyes, dark hair, and dimples that were so kissable. 

“Yeah,” you shook your head, a little dazed by his beauty. “I’m fine,” you reassured. Many guys on the island were attractive enough to catch your eye, but this guy was something else.

“Can I get you a drink? Since I spilled yours,” he offered and that's when you noticed your cup was on the floor.

“Sure,” you beamed. “It was just water though,” you added with a shrug.

“A water for the lady then,” he grinned. 

You followed him back into the kitchen where he got you a new cup. He had asked if you were heading outside so you nodded as he grabbed your hand, leading you past the pool where you saw Rafe hanging out with the girl from before. 

A smile fell on your face, glad to see him have fun before you stopped at a bench under a tree in the yard. 

“I’ve never seen you around the island,” you told the guy, smoothing out the skirt of your dress before sitting down. 

“I’m visiting my cousin, he brought me along,” he answered. “What about you? You live here?” He gestured to the house.

“Oh, no” you snickered. “My best friend lives here, it’s his party,” you explained. You glanced back at those brown eyes, chewing on your lip as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. There was a new feeling in your stomach tonight, far from basic attraction—there was more. 

But you couldn’t pinpoint it. Still, the longer you talked to this guy, the more you felt it.

“I was struggling to stand up on that board, that wave was huge!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands. 

You hid your laugh with your hand, doubling over as he told his story. “You’re kidding?! How did you make it?” 

“Pure luck and ambition,” he shrugged, sipping his drink. “But I also learned maybe there’s a reason you shouldn’t surf during a thunderstorm,” he joked.

You agreed. “I’m glad you lived to tell the tale,” you reached over to touch his arm, gazing at him through your lashes.

His eyes flicked over your frame before he hummed out in agreement. “Me too”. 

Silence engulfed you for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped and only you and him were in existence. Letting the feeling in your tummy guide you, you leaned in. 

He followed, reaching over to place a hand on your waist and soon his lips were on yours. Your hand reached up to thread through his hair, deepening the kiss. 

You kissed for what felt like hours but in reality, it was only minutes. It was a soft and innocent kiss, but it felt so intense, so hot. You were fully making out with a stranger at a party and all you could worry about was the heating sensation igniting in your heart.

Unsure of it, you still didn’t want it to stop, unfortunately, it did.

“Watch out!” You heard Rafe scream as a ball flew over your head and bounced off the tree trunk. You yelped, heart racing at the thought that it could’ve hit you square in the face. Immediately, you saw Rafe jog over towards you. 

He was in his swim trunks, chest bare, and water dripping down his abs. 

You licked your lips unconsciously, the familiar feeling burning between your legs but you pushed it aside when you focused your attention back on the guy, making sure he was okay and he placed a hand on your knee in response.

“You okay, Y/N?” Rafe caught up to you. “Didn’t see you until the ball slipped from my hands,” he chuckled, running a hand over his head.

“I’m fine, Rafe,” you reassured.

“Didn’t realize you weren’t alone,” he cleared his throat, sending a glance to the guy.

“This is,” you placed your hand on top of his that was resting on your knee. You paused, realizing you didn’t know his name.

“Eric,” he answered with a smile. 

“Eric,” you repeated, unable to control your growing smile. You liked his name. Turning back to Rafe, you chose to ignore the frown on his face.

“Happy birthday, man,” Eric turned to Rafe. “Sick party,” he smiled and you grinned between him and Rafe. 

“Yeah, thanks, Y/N threw it for me,” Rafe said, his eyes flicking to yours before they rested back on the hand that was on your knee.

“No way, you have a talent,” he squeezed your knee and you felt your cheeks heat up.

You shrugged bashfully and you narrowly missed the snort that left Rafe. 

“I was about to head back inside,” Rafe pointed towards the house. “We were gonna get a few drinks,” he trailed.

“Okay, have fun,” you said. “I’m gonna chill out here with Eric,” you added, leaning into his side. You also chose to ignore the way his jaw clenched.

“Okay, sounds good,” he pressed his lips together in a smile before he made his way back.

Once he was out of your eyesight, you turned back to Eric, threading your fingers through his hair and resuming what you were doing before.

~

Rafe didn’t want to leave you tonight, especially on his birthday. But you had practically pushed him into the girl’s awaiting hands. He didn’t understand why you were so happy to do that, didn’t you see how more perfect you’d be in her place? 

Was he not obvious?

As he stared back at you, the smile adorning your lips, he knew the answer. Which is why he turned back around, allowing the girl to lead him to the pool. 

He tried to have a fun time, jumping in the pool with her. He could admit that she was attractive but nothing compared to you.

As he, the girl, Kelce, and her friend had a chicken fight, his mind continued to wander to where you might be. 

Kelce and Top were in the pool with him, meaning you were alone. You could’ve sat in one of the lounge chairs, enjoying the game, but when he glanced over, you weren’t there. The thought of you alone in the house irked him, what if someone spikes your drink or makes you uncomfortable?

Your laugh answered his prayers but another question came to mind, who was making you laugh?

He was about to jump out of the pool when the girl stopped him, handing him a shot of something while she pressed her boobs against him. He chuckled, taking the shot from her. He was distracted for a moment but then he heard your laugh again. 

This time he exited the pool, leaving the girl dumbfounded. It didn’t take long to find you but he wasn’t expecting you to be so far from the party, alone, with a guy.

He inhaled sharply. 

There was no way, right? He’s been drinking all night, his mind was painting a picture he didn’t want to see. But then the sight of you leaning in to kiss the guy, his hand sliding over your waist and yours fingering through his hair made that anger grow. 

To his side a few guys were kicking a ball around, without another thought, he grabbed it, throwing it in your direction. He knew it’d miss you but he still shouted out your name before he went running in your direction.

You pulled away from the guy, your eyes going wide as the ball hit the tree over your head. 

He checked on you, hoping the incident would make you open your eyes and realize you shouldn’t be spending the night with a stranger on your best friend’s birthday. But that’s not what you had done at all.

Instead, you snuggled up to the guy “Eric”, letting him keep his hand on your knee, and telling Rafe to have fun.

He swallowed down the jealousy, forcing a smile before making his way back to the house. The thought of you outside with him made his blood boil. Even more so when he snorted up a line in the kitchen a few moments later.

The white powder was the second thing that could calm him besides you. Still, he preferred you.

“Eric,” Kelce said the name in thought. “I don’t know an Eric,” he shrugged. 

“I mean look at her man, she seems to like him well enough,” Topper said, glancing at the way you were staring at the dude.

Wiping his nose, Rafe sent him a look. 

There you were, busting out in laughter again at something. “I don’t trust him,” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes locked on you as you giggled behind your hand. 

When had you ever laughed like that towards him before? When had you ever been so focused on a guy other than him? 

“That’s for her to decide,” Kelce laughed. “And by the looks of it, she seems to trust him well enough,” he snickered behind his cup. 

Rafe grimaced, running his tongue over his teeth as Eric rubbed his hand along the exposed skin of your thigh. If he had known the short skirt he explicitly picked out for you would lead to that, he might’ve rethought the outfit entirely.

“Well I don’t, it’s my party, I can decide who’s attending and who’s not,” his gaze darkened and his friends sent him a look.

“Hey, man, Y/N’s having a great time. Are you sure you want to do that?” Topper asked, aware of what Rafe was implying.

“I know what I said,” he stated before he began walking towards you. He heard Topper mutter under his breath but he paid no attention to it.

“Oh, hi,” you turned to face your best friend who appeared in front of you. “Back so sudden?” You asked, gazing behind him where the house was still active. 

“Yeah, I was thinking it was time to head back inside,” he said. “It’s getting kinda cold,” he added.

“I’m fine,” you dismissed. “Do you need me for something or-” You were cut off by him.

“Nah, I just think it’s time for us to head back inside, it’s late,” he stated, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I said I was fine here, Rafe,” you said his name but he didn’t like the way you said it. 

He narrowed his gaze, running a hand over his mouth as he contemplated. “Get inside, Y/N,” he opted to say. The look on your face told him what you were thinking. “I mean it”.

“She said she’s fine,” Eric stood up, blocking Rafe from you. 

Rafe placed his hands on his hips, dropping his head down as he let out a chuckle. “I don’t remember asking you,” he jutted a finger into Eric’s chest. “Actually, I don’t remember inviting you to my party,” he grinned.

You stood behind Eric, frowning as you stared at your best friend. Even under the moonlight, you could see how blown out his eyes were. The knowledge didn’t settle with you. So you stepped around Eric, grabbing hold of Rafe’s arm to prevent anything from escalating.

“C’mon, Rafe, I’ll go,” you sighed.

He relaxed, smiling down at the hand that was intertwined with his and the other on his forearm. He glanced back up at Eric, sending him a look of victory. 

“You don’t have to listen to him,” Eric directed to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you blew out a breath. “It’s best if you go, Eric,” you frowned, tears pricking in your eyes and Rafe couldn’t help but grow angry at that. You shouldn’t be crying over a boy you met a couple of hours ago. With your statement though, Eric left. 

Rafe led you back into the house and he couldn’t help the feeling of pride swell as you clung to his arm.

You, on the other hand, tried to keep a smile on your face but you couldn’t feel the pang in your heart at what you missed out on. Why did Rafe need you back in the house? You wondered.

“C’mon, drink up, it’ll take your mind off of him,” Rafe handed you a cup with some type of liquor in it.

You sent him a look and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s my birthday,” he encouraged. “I want my best friend to be having fun too,” he grinned, pushing the cup into your hand.

You pressed your lips together. “Alright,” you sighed, giving in for the third time today. The bitter taste landed on your tongue and you cringed as it burned down your throat.

Rafe chuckled beside you, quickly pouring you another. “See, you’re having fun already”.

The longer the party went on, the more drinks you had. You weren’t drunk but you could feel the buzz. Reaching for a few of the snacks on the counter, you hoped you’d be able to sober up but Rafe had another idea.

“Let’s head up, yeah?”

You nodded, reaching for his hand as you began making your way up the stairs. You were still down about Eric, but you knew it was better than dealing with Rafe punching the life out of him. You didn’t enjoy his violent tendencies, especially when the white substance made it worse, but you tried to push past it, noting the good qualities he had.

He was loyal, smart, and confident.

Sometimes you wish that was enough for you.

You brushed past him as he opened his bedroom door for you. You found your bag on his bed, searching for his gift deciding now would be a good time to give it to him. Even though you were slightly pissed at him, he was still your best friend and it was his birthday.

He smiled at you when you sat on his bed and patted the spot next to you so he could sit. 

“Happy birthday,” you grinned, passing him the small box, and your shoulders pressed together. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he raised a brow but he took it from you nonetheless.

“Shh, just open it,” you laughed, watching as he did.

His gaze softened at the gold Rolex. He hummed out in delight, thanking you in the process.

“There’s an inscription,” you pointed at the expensive watch. 

He turned the watch over to find that there was. His thumb traced over the words you picked out.

Rafe, you’re worthy of everything. Love, Y/N.

His heart swelled at the sentence. He wasn’t often told he was worthy of anything so for you to say he was meant it all. “Thank you, Y/N,” he swallowed.

You could tell he appreciated the sentiment so you wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Anytime for you, Rafe,” you smiled, gazing into his eyes. “What does the birthday boy want to do now? I’m sure the girls are waiting for you to rejoin them in the pool,” you smirked, standing up and walking over to the window. 

Part of you wished that Eric was still outside, but he was long gone. The other part of you already accepted the loss, knowing something worse could've come from it if Rafe had escalated things.

Which in the past, he’s done many times.

You turned back around to face your best friend.

“Nah,” he said after a pause. “I kinda wanna stay up here with you,” he said.

“I don’t think that’s much fun when the party is downstairs,” you pointed towards the window.

“Who says we can’t have a party of our own?” He smirked, holding a small bag in his hand.

“By all means, enjoy yourself, Rafe,” you chuckled. 

“It won’t be fun if you’re not doing it”.

“Rafe,” you warned. 

“C’mon, it’s my birthday,” he said.

“Just this once,” you rolled your eyes, deciding you could indulge for one night.

He smirked, standing up and guiding you to his desk. He lined one up for you, instructing you how to do it. 

You cringed at the feeling, moving from the seat and walking back to the bed as you rubbed your nose.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” he found his spot next to you, laying back on his bed. He folded his arms behind his head and you couldn’t help but peek at his lower abdomen that became exposed from his shirt riding up. “This is probably the best birthday I’ve had,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, why’s that?” You decided to humor him.

He sat up, leaning in close so his chest pressed against your shoulder. “I got the hottest girl in my room, wearing the most beautiful dress,” he sucked in a breath, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. 

Your face grew hot and you gulped. “You could have a hotter girl in here if you didn’t chase Eric away,” you bit, unsure why you said it.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re still sad about that?” 

“I’m just confused,” you breathed out. “I was having a good time with a cute guy, is that so wrong?” You asked.

“Yes,” he stated and your jaw went slack. 

“You’re kidding,” you laughed, shaking your head. 

“It’s your best friend’s birthday and instead of hanging out with him you’re kissing a dude you don’t even know?” He spoke with his hands, his movements becoming erratic and that had you worried. 

“Rafe, I spent the whole day with you, you were hanging out with that girl earlier, what happened to her? She was cute!” You exclaimed.

He stood up, walked over to the window and he ran a hand over his face. He was pacing back and forth in front of you as you shifted on the bed.

“You think I care about her?” He stopped in front of you. “I didn’t want to go in the fucking pool with her but I did because of you!” He shouted. 

You flinched. 

“I don’t give a fuck about any other person besides you!” He yelled. “And it fucking sucks when that feeling isn’t reciprocated by my own fucking best friend,” he huffed, chest rising.

Your heart dropped and felt a sting in the back of your eyes. You didn’t realize you were crying until a sob broke through you. 

Rafe stilled and he let out a sigh. “I-,” he inhaled, pressing his fist to his head. He dropped to his knees in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “You don’t get it, okay? You’re the only one on my side, the only one who makes me feel like I’m not crazy,” he dropped his head to your thigh, his hands squeezing your sides like he was afraid you’d leave. 

“I care so fucking much about you,” you cried. “Everything I do is with you in mind,” you closed your eyes, your hands settling on his head as you began to run your nails along his buzzed hair. “This entire party, the entire day, I chose not to go to college so we could be close, I-,” you sucked in a breath, trying to decide what the point was. “I gave up on what I could have with Eric so you didn’t get upset,” you wiped your eye.

“What you could have?” He lifted his head to stare up at you. “What do you mean by that?” He leaned back. 

“Love, Rafe,” you answered.

“What about us?” He furrowed his brows. 

“Romantic love,” you elaborated. “Why do you think I’m always trying to hook you up with a nice girl?” You tipped your head to the side. 

You both stared at each other in disbelief before Rafe stood up, running his hand over his head. 

“I already told you I don’t want another girl,” he shook his head. “I want you,” he faced you again. 

You were left dumbfounded. 

“Are you honestly that blind?” He narrowed his gaze. 

This time, you stood up. “We’re friends, Rafe, nothing more!” 

He quickly stepped towards you, gripping your face in his hand firmly so you were forced to look at him. “You really think that’s all we’re meant to be?” He scoffed, flicking his gaze over you.

Your eyes were wide and you tried to push him off of you but he instead wrapped his other arm around you to keep you in place.

“Look at us, sweetheart,” he said. “If you really think all we’ll ever be is just friends, then you’re adorable,” he chuckled. “I think it’s about time you realize it was always meant to be us,” he licked his lips, eyes boring into yours. “Tonight was supposed to be perfect, I had it all planned,” he began. “Tonight was the night we were supposed to make things official,” he breathed out.

“Rafe,” you clutched his wrist, trying to pry his hand off of your face. “We’re just friends,” you restated, fear spreading over your eyes.

“We’re just friends,” he mocked you and you frowned, tears pricking in your eyes. “Stop playing dumb, for once, will you?” He taunted. “Did you think we’d go our entire lives without ending up with each other? Why do you think I’ve never dated anyone seriously, or you?” He tipped his head to the side.

Your stomach dropped. Is that why all the boys who were interested in you never lasted or never got the chance to properly ask you out? 

“We get each other, no one else will. We’re from good families and you’re the only girl my father will ever approve of,” he gulped. “So let me ask you again,” he inhaled. “Did you really think we’d never be more than just friends?” 

Your heart dropped. “Is that the only reason you want us to be together? Because of money and status?” You asked, voice shaky. “Am I just some silly pawn to get your father’s approval?” You felt a tear slip down your cheek but Rafe was quick to wipe it away with his thumb.

“Stop asking stupid questions,” he pressed his forehead against yours. 

You shakingly let out a breath, closing your eyes as more tears slipped. The proximity and his grip had you uneased. You were confused. 

“It’s always been you, Y/N,” he rubbed his nose against yours. 

Your breath hitched as you stilled, unsure how to respond. But it seemed like he already knew the answer to his own question. His silence is what caused the sobs to rack through your body.

“Hey,” he cooed, stepping back and letting go of you. “Don’t cry,” he used his thumbs to gently wipe under your eyes. “C’mere,” he wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to cry into his chest. 

It felt strange to be consoled by the man who brought tears to your eyes, yet, here you were. Still, there was nothing more comforting than Rafe, you thought.

He led you to sit back on the bed, bringing a tissue to wipe your face once you calmed down. “Cheer up, okay?” His lips curved into a smile. “It’s still my birthday, we should be celebrating”.

You nodded. “You’re right,” you inhaled, hoping this conversation would be left in the past.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed his lips to your temple before he pinched your chin, guiding you to look up at him and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

Your eyes widened and you tried to pull away but the angle you were in made you fear he could break your neck at the grip he had on your chin. Still, as his lips continued to move against yours, you couldn’t help but melt at his touch. 

This feeling was something you’ve been curious about for so long. The fire, desire, and passion that was enveloped in the kiss lit you up. It was intense. He loosened his grip on your chin, cradling the back of your neck as you moved your lips against his. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you moaned, but that was the wake-up call you needed. 

You quickly shoved him away, getting off the bed and creating some distance between the two of you. “You can’t do that!” You pressed your fingers to your lips and you still felt him there.

He stood up, stalking closer to you. With each step, you took one back. “What am I gonna have to do to get you to understand that I can?” He reached for you and he was fast, pulling you against him once more.

He was strong, you’ll give him credit for that and it was scary how you didn’t realize it before.

“Rafe,” you exhaled, turning your head away, feeling the intense presence of his stare.

“Am I gonna have to fuck you?” He hummed. 

Your eyes widened and you struggled to remove yourself from him again.

“I think I’m gonna have to fuck you to get it into your pretty head,” he chuckled, squeezing you tight so you’d stop moving. 

“No,” you shook your head, hands pressing against his biceps. “Rafe, please,” you pleaded.

“Oh, I love it when you beg,” he smirked. “But fine,” he loosened his grip on you. “Give me one night,” he proposed. “One night to show you it’s always meant to be this way, us,” he elaborated.

You dropped your gaze, blanking out as you contemplated. But he took your silence for an answer, dipping his head down to kiss your neck. You gasped, pulling away from him but instead, he pushed you back against the bed.

Crawling further up the bed to get away from him, you didn’t miss the way he looked at you like you were some prey he was getting ready to devour. He chuckled as he forced himself between your thighs, his hands slipping underneath your skirt and hooking around your panties.

It felt like such an out-of-body experience, your legs moving as he slid them off them, your thighs pressed against his shoulders as he laid before your cunt.

“We’d be so good together, sweetheart,” he said, hands kneading the soft flesh of your wonderfully thick thighs. “And I can make you feel just as good,” he said before he dipped his head down and licked a long stripe against your folds.

Your back arched at the feeling. You scratched your nails along his buzzed hair, a moan erupting from you as his tongue flicked around your sensitive bud. The feeling of his chuckle against you made you shudder and you felt embarrassed that he was finding your reaction amusing. 

“Just relax, don’t think too much about it,” he stared up at you before he licked another long stripe. 

You whined, squeezing your thighs around his head in hopes of getting him to stop but it was fruitless. He continued to pleasure you with his mouth, his focus on your clit as he wrapped his lips around it, sucking until you were a moaning mess beneath him.

Your imagination only took you so far when you thought about this. What it would be like when it would happen if it would ever happen–which you already decided it wouldn’t. But you were wrong about it all. It felt amazing, it was happening on his birthday, and it would happen.

But was it right? Did you want this? Your body was telling you yes but your brain was saying no. Rafe wasn’t the man you wanted to end up with, the man you wanted to have children with. But it seems like he made those choices for you and he was proving so with his tongue.

Staring up at the ceiling, you allowed your hands to rest at your sides, your chest heaving with each breath as you felt the pressure between your legs build. As your mind begged for release, it pushed all your confusing thoughts aside, allowing you to fall over the edge.

You gasped, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came down from your high. 

Rafe licked up your wetness before kissing around your sensitive skin, nipping at your thigh. He pushed the skirt of your dress up, exposing more of your flesh, granting him the desire to kiss every inch as he made his way up your body.

Trying to process what had happened, you felt him unbutton the one button that held your cardigan in place. It took all your strength to swat his hand away.

“Rafe,” you tried to push him away but he didn’t budge. 

“What is it? What’s so wrong about this?” He asked, stopping his movements and holding himself up above you. “Are you going to tell me you never thought about us?” He dipped his head down, whispering against your ear. “Is it me?” He pulled his shirt over his head, a smile appearing on his face. “Because I see the way you look at me and I don’t think it’s me,” he smirked, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest. 

The way you rubbed your thighs together and trailed your hand down his abs told him what you were thinking. Of course, you found him attractive, he was a Cameron and the Kook Prince, and he was athletic, muscular, and tall. 

What wasn’t there to like?

“It’s definitely not me,” he chuckled. 

“I can’t,” you forced yourself to say.

“Why not?” 

You didn’t answer so he kissed you. 

“You know how you said you want to repay me for this pretty dress?” He said in between kisses. 

Your breath hitched in response, knowing when you said that. 

“Get on your knees,” he ordered.

You glanced up at him before he urged you to slide off the bed to kneel in front of him. You knew it’d just be one night, he did say that after all, so you figured you’d get this one night over.

He stood in front of you, ridding himself of his clothes. He was naked in front of you and you felt your face heat up at the sight of his aching cock.

“Open,” he directed.

You bit on your lip, hesitantly holding your hands against your chest before you did as you were told and he rested the tip on your tongue, you instinctively wrapped your lips around him, one of your hands reaching up to wrap around the base of his dick.

Glancing up at him, you decided to move, the feel of his length pushing past your lips was interesting. It was strange that he was your best friend but at the same time, you pressed your thighs together for some friction.

You tried to take things slow but he wasn’t patient, instead, he pressed a hand to the back of your head, forcing the rest of himself down your throat. You gagged, feeling his balls press against your chin and he chuckled above you.

“You’re so adorable,” he smirked as he pulled back slightly before he pushed himself in again.

You reacted the same way, this time tears formed in your eyes. Your saliva pooled out of your mouth and you tried to swallow which earned a moan from him. His hands gripped your head, holding you in place as he began to fuck your mouth, the sound of your gagging filling the room mixed with his groans shouldn’t be making you wet but it was.

Pressing your hands against his thighs, you tried to push away, hoping to breathe through your mouth but he kept you there.

“Just relax,” he encouraged, moaning when you swallowed again, pressing your tongue against him. “You’re doing so good,” he groaned.

Digging your nails into his skin, he hissed and with one more thrust, you felt as he came down your throat, your face scrunching as you attempted to swallow it. He finally pulled away, leaving you to gasp for air followed by a fit of coughs. Your hands were pressed against your chest as you heaved.

He grabbed your face with his hand, pressing his lips against yours. The force of his hand on your jaw urged you to stand, his other hand framing the other side of your face as he deepened the kiss. You placed your hands on his arms, feeling weak and he was your only support.

His tongue slipped past your lips and he groaned at your taste. You felt lightheaded but thankfully he sat back on the bed, pulling you into his lap. He moved away from your lips, allowing you to glance up at the ceiling, your hands on his broad shoulders as you caught your breath.

Your eyes closed when he sucked on the skin behind your ear, one of your hands running up the back of his neck, your fingers curling over the soft buzz of his hair.

He undid the button of your cardigan, slipping it off your body and throwing it on the floor somewhere. Then he reached to the side where the zipper sat and undid it as well. He slid the spaghetti straps down your shoulders, pushing the fabric down to release your breasts.

The cold air hit your nipples, causing them to harden. He moaned at the sight, his hands cupping each in one, squeezing them, and rolling your hardened buds between his fingers.

You arched your back, pressing your chest further into his touch. You felt him lean down, wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking gently. You felt hot to the touch, your nails running along his body wherever you wanted. 

Shifting in his lap, you felt him poke at you, his tip brushing with your clit and you shivered.

He switched to the other, doing the same and earning another trail of moans from you. He let it go with a pop, kissing back up your neck and along your jaw. “See how good we are together? Most friends aren’t even compatible, but we are,” he breathed against you. 

You stayed quiet but at this point, he wasn’t looking for an answer, this is how it was always supposed to go.

He guided the dress over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room before he moved you to lay on the bed, your head resting against the pillows. You allowed him to pry your legs open, your hands at your sides as you watched him settle between your thighs.

Realizing he didn’t have a condom on, you opened your mouth. “I’m not on birth control,” you stopped him.

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow,” he grinned.

You hesitantly let go before you rested back on the bed, nodding slightly.

He lined himself up at your entrance, his hands on your thighs as he pushed your knees to your chest. Slowly, he pressed himself into you and you scratched down his forearms at the feeling. 

“Shh, relax,” he encouraged. 

You took a deep breath in, it’d been so long since you had sex, the familiar pressure building between your legs as he pushed further in. Soon, his hips were pressed against yours and you felt his balls resting against you. It was a new feeling, being connected to somebody completely bare–raw. 

It was odd. But that didn’t stop you from clenching around him to urge him to move.

“See how perfect we fit?” He asked, reeling his hips back before he snapped forward, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure flourished around you.

You whined, tracing your hand around his neck, pulling him down so his forehead was resting against yours. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he inhaled, continuing to fuck you. It was pure bliss, your thighs resting on his hips, spreading wider with each thrust, just like he always wanted. The noise of your wetness was heard in the room, the feel of your walls pulling him back in. It was so pleasurable, that he dropped his head down, running his nose along your neck. “Always been, always will,” he smiled. 

“Rafe,” you moaned, locking your legs together around his waist, your hands running down his back, your hips beginning to match each of his thrusts.

He loved hearing his name fall from your lips. “Do you see now?” He rested his forearms on either side of your head, framing your beautiful face. 

You gulped, hands resting on the curve of his back, your eyelids heavy as he fucked you deeply. 

He chuckled, knowing you were too dazed to answer. “All the times I’ve called you pretty, hot, they all went over your head, didn’t they?” He tipped his head to the side, a hiss escaping him when you squeezed around him. “Even now as I’m fucking you and your creaming around my cock, it still hasn’t stuck, has it?” His eyes shone brightly under his bedroom light, so blue they had you entranced.

That’s all you focused on as you came again, throwing your head back, your toes curling and, your nails leaving scratch marks on his back. 

Your orgasm fueled his, his body stilling against you as he came, releasing into your slick walls. You knew you’d have to worry about it tomorrow, part of you was scared for what was to come, but your body was so relaxed in the pleasure it experienced.

“This is how it was always meant to be,” he whispered, slowly pulling out of you and watching his release slip out of your cunt. “And I’m gonna fuck you until you understand,” he said and you were half-asleep that you didn’t even feel as he pushed it back in. “Thanks for the best birthday”.

~

Reblogs and comments are what keep writers writing so make sure to do so!

[querenciasturniolo]

headcannons ⮕ m.s

a/n: 75% boyfriend headcannons, 25% plus sized reader headcannons, but i definitely did my best !! @rainsoakedphoenix , i hope you enjoy, love 🫶🏻💓

❥ matt in the talking stage is very quick to reply, and always has something to add to the conversation. he’s flirty, but subtle about it, not wanting you to think he’s moving too fast, or give you the wrong impression.

❥ this dude is an absolute open BOOK. any question you ask him, he answers openly and honestly.

❥ he hates small talk, absolutely despises it. would rather talk about incredibly deep, philosophical things instead of a simple “how are you ?”

❥ would ask you “what are we ?” instead of just asking you out, idk man, dude’s complicated.

❥ he would not give a fuck about you being plus sized, not a single one. he likes you bc you’re a good person, and nothing else matters to him in the slightest than that.

❥ “get out of here, you’re perfect just how you are.”

❥ hands on your hips and waist when you’re out in public. i wouldn’t say he’s a fan of pda, but he isn’t one to not have a hold of you somewhere.

❥ in a more private setting ? dude is cuddly and needy as HELL. constantly holding you, whether it’s just your hand, his arm around your shoulder, standing behind you with his hands on your hips, shoulders, waist, you name it.

❥ on days where you’re insecure, he’s quick to snap you out of it. he can tell whether you need reassurance or a distraction without you even having to explain.

❥ HUGE on reading body language and tone of voice, can tell immediately if something is wrong just by the way you’re breathing.

❥ pet names for days. “baby”, “babe”, “love”, “beautiful”, “bunny” (fight me, i dare you), dude will throw in “toots” in an awful boston accent, just to make you laugh and see you roll your eyes

❥ whiny, whiny, W H I N Y. constantly asking for cuddles, kisses, hugs, scratches, everything.

❥ huge words of affirmation guy, never gets tired of hearing that you love him or your thanks for him doing something for you. essentially, he’s a giant puppy dog.

❥ always has his hand on your thigh when he’s driving oh my GOD

❥ instead of physical gifts for anniversaries, he’d give you love letters (i’m sobbing)

❥ dude is not afraid to post you anywhere, absolutely ADORES showing you off, even if it’s just of you sleeping in his lap, or an underview of you watching the tv and playing with his hair

❥ “what ? i can’t show off what’s mine ?” (kill me)

❥ supportive of you in every single aspect, not once has he ever looked at you and made you feel like you couldn’t do what you wanted

❥ lowkey possessive, but not in a toxic way ! just wants you all to himself, and gets whiny when you have to go or you have other plans and can’t come over. it’s mostly a joke, and he’d never ever do it if it actually upset you, he just truly does want you around all of the time.

❥ HUGE on setting boundaries early in the relationship, wants to know your ‘hell yes’s and ‘hell no’s IMMEDIATELY

❥ says “i love you” first, no ifs, ands or buts.

❥ “i love you, ya know ?”

❥ is blushing the entire time he’s trying to get it out, but relaxes when he sees your grin

❥ refuses to “argue”, dude only has constructive conversations where the two of you find a solution

❥ “it’s us against the problem, babe. not us against each other. what’s going on ?”

❥ three quick pecks every time one of you asks for a kiss, sometimes more, but never less, and he will absolutely pout if you ever short him.

❥ “what was that ? give me a real kiss.”

❥ some nights when his energy is low, and his social battery is almost completely gone, he’ll just lay with you with his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat.

❥ he’s a little snippy on bad days, but he always catches himself.

❥ “i’m sorry, love. i shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

❥ B A N T E R, he’s a shit, for sure

❥ “oh yeah ? wanna say that to my face ?” (think lori and noah from tiktok)

❥ on days where your body image is bad, he stops what he’s doing and takes the time to just hold you, and reassure you that your body is beautiful.

❥ “look at me, hey. i love you, every single part of you.”

❥ star gazing dates, midnight drives to nowhere, movie nights in the living room, nights where the two of you just stare at the ceiling and enjoy each other’s company.

❥ “penny for your thoughts ?” “what are you thinkin’ about over there ?” “what’s on your mind, beautiful ?”

❥ never shies away from mentioning you on the podcast/in videos.

❥ “oh my god, my girlfriend loves that.” “holy shit, me and y/n were just talking about this !”

tags: @strniolo , @ssturniolo , @thetriplets3 , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @toyourloves , @lvrsparadise , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @jellybeanbby , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo