#design-driven flipping

[unitedstatesrei]

From Ministry to Turning Purpose Into Millions in Property Power with Jordan Smith

Key Takeaways Jordan Smith successfully transitioned from ministry to real estate by finding a niche that aligned with his personal fulfillment. Building a wide toolbox of creative investment strategies offers flexibility and long-term sustainability. Purpose-driven investing can yield both profit and joy, especially when relationships and community are prioritized. United States Real Estate Investor The REI Agent with Jordan Smith https://youtu.be/0u7s2KhikLg Follow and subscribe to The REI Agent on social Facebook Instagram Youtube .cls-1fill:#fff; Linkedin X-twitter United States Real Estate Investor It's time to have an investor-friendly agent on your team! It's time to have an investor-friendly agent on your team! United States Real Estate Investor A Journey Beyond Sales—Finding a Calling Through Real Estate When most people hear “real estate agent,” they think of someone unlocking doors and collecting commission checks. But for Jordan Smith, guest on The REI Agent Podcast, real estate became far more than a profession—it became a conduit for purpose, impact, and community. Host Mattias Clymer introduced Jordan not just as another agent, but as someone whose life journey, from medical sales to ministry and eventually to flipping homes, embodies the full spirit of holistic success. “The riches are in the niches,” Jordan says. “But more than that, the fulfillment is there too.” The Forced Pivot: When Life Says ‘Now or Never’ Jordan never planned to become a real estate agent. After a promising path in medical device sales and a powerful stint in ministry leadership, life forced his hand. The pandemic hit. Furloughed and frustrated, Jordan’s wife gave him the ultimatum every dreamer secretly needs: “Either flip a house or stop talking about it.” He did more than flip a house. He flipped the script on what a career could look like. With $0 in his commission account and a heart full of ambition, Jordan got licensed and closed his first wholesale deal with a stranger-turned-partner named Wes. That first deal would be the spark that ignited a real estate empire. “Wes was the gasoline to the ember I had. We became partners in hustle—and in heart,” Jordan reflected. The Investor’s Toolbox: Why One Strategy Isn’t Enough Throughout the episode, Jordan walks listeners through the diverse arsenal that makes his business stand out. He’s not just flipping homes. He’s mastering wholesaling, double closes, seller financing, subject-to deals, wholetailing, short- and midterm rentals, lease options, sandwich strategies—the list goes on. “There’s no such thing as a bad deal,” he says. “You just need the right exit strategy.” This toolbox mentality has earned Jordan the respect of brokers and the trust of investors. He’s not chasing commissions, he’s crafting custom solutions. And in a market that’s changing faster than interest rates, flexibility isn’t optional, it’s essential. Bridging the Divide: Wholesalers vs. Agents In one of the episode’s most honest moments, Jordan tackles the stigma around wholesalers and agents head-on: “Yes, there are shady wholesalers. But there are also bad agents. The truth is, 90% of both are just out here trying to help.” Jordan’s mission is to bridge that divide. Through education, transparency, and creative deal-making, he’s showing both sides how to work shoulder to shoulder. His message is simple but powerful: “Everybody can win.” Homegrown Expertise: Midterm Rentals and Local Mastery Mid-conversation, Mattias and Jordan dive into one of today’s most underused strategies: midterm rentals. Jordan shares how a client built relationships with hospital HR departments to house travel nurses for 90-day stays, turning referrals into recurring cash flow. Mattias shares his own journey setting up a midterm rental, saying, “We loved the property, the location, the vibes—it just made sense. Even if we break even, it’s worth it for the long-term value and the joy.” That

joy, that experimentation, that playfulness, these are the invisible currencies successful investors trade in every day. The Golden Nugget: Know What Fills Your Cup If Jordan could tell every agent and investor one thing, it’s this: “Find your niche and pour gasoline on it.” Whether it’s flipping homes, working with first-time buyers, or helping fellow dog lovers find the perfect backyard, your zone of genius will never lead you wrong. Jordan’s not in real estate because it’s glamorous. He’s in it because “I’d be doing this even if I wasn’t licensed. I love it. It fills my cup.” Purpose Isn’t a Perk—It’s the Plan In a world obsessed with hustle and GCI, Jordan’s story is a loud and clear reminder that you don’t have to choose between passion and profit. You can have both. You should have both. “Congrats—you made a bunch of commission last year and hate your life,” he jokes. “That’s not the flex you think it is.” Instead, Jordan challenges agents and investors to zoom in on what makes them come alive, and then turn it into a career that sustains not just their finances, but their spirit. Because at the end of the day, the best deals in real estate are the ones that build you up from the inside out. Are you ready to build more than wealth? Then this episode is where your blueprint begins. Stay tuned for more inspiring stories on The REI Agent podcast, your go-to source for insights, inspiration, and strategies from top agents and investors who are living their best lives through real estate. For more content and episodes, visit reiagent.com. United States Real Estate Investor Create healing and connection within yourself, your family, and your community. Create healing and connection within yourself, your family, and your community. United States Real Estate Investor Contact Jordan Smith Realty ONE Group Revolution Instagram United States Real Estate Investor Mentioned References The 4-Hour Chef by Tim Ferriss The 4-Hour Body by Tim Ferriss The 4-Hour Workweek by Tim Ferriss The Tim Ferriss Show Furnished Finder Airbnb United States Real Estate Investor Transcript Welcome to the REI Agent, a holistic approach to life through real estate. I'm Mattias, an agent and investor. And I'm Erica, a licensed therapist. Join us as we interview guests that also strive to live bold and fulfilled lives through business and real estate investing. Tune in every week for interviews with real estate agents and investors. Ready to level up? Let's do it. Welcome back to the REI Agent. This is Mattias Clymer, your lovely host of the REI Agent podcast and your neighborhood rock star. I don't know. I'm feeling fired up right now. I've had a lot of mornings of getting up and wanting to get up earlier than my alarm goes off because I'm excited to get to work. Like today, this morning I was building out an AI chat bot that would help with scheduling. So look at my schedule. And it would say, when do you wanna see this house built into the website? And they'd say, how about four tomorrow? And they'd be like, well, actually, there's no availability there, but can you do two or whatever it is? You set all the parameters in your schedule, in your calendar, like Calendly. And then the AI bot can just read it and kind of talk back and forth with that person instead of just them filling out a link, which I think is kind of cool. And it's not something designed to be necessarily pretending to be a real person. It can be honest and transparent. I think I named mine Booker T to just be fun and like kind of a tech forward brand anyway. That's kind of like how I've always been. So hopefully other people find it amusing. I won't push it on people, but it was a fun thing to play with. I'm looking to see, I'm curious if I can get that thing set up with showing time as well. It'd be really interesting to have it, be able to read the properties availability on showing time and my availability, and then give options to the client of what to book. I think that would be a really cool, fun thing.

Not that I would force, again, people to do that only, but if somebody is on my website and wants to book something, they could just do that. And then on top of it all, I could probably have an if this, then that kind of a workflow where if they are already an existing client, they wouldn't do this. But if it wasn't an existing client in my CRM, I have a workflow where it would send them a buyer brokerage agreement to sign right away, which I think is another really possible cool thing. There's some kinks in that system, so it's not quite ready. And I think it's probably better to meet first with the client to have an introduction meeting. So a lot of things to work out, but it's just fun to see where technology can take you. But anyway, I wanted to get into our guest, Jordan Smith. Jordan Smith is an agent. He was an investor first and then became an agent and has focused his sales business on investors. So he has a wealth of knowledge. He's done a lot of different things, a lot of different type of deals. And his book of business is mainly investors on the sales side. But there's a lot of knowledge there. This is, he's perfect for the show because he gets into, he's a bridge between wholesale and resale, if you will. So we are all about learning how to be investor friendly, understanding investments, or building up your own portfolio. And Jordan is a great example of that. So without further ado, let's get right into it. Jordan Smith. Welcome back to the REI Agent. I'm here with Jordan Smith. Jordan, thanks so much for joining us. Yeah, man, thanks for having me. Yeah, Jordan, you tell us where you're coming out of, first of all. Yeah, so the metropolis of Rock Hill, South Carolina, which is Football City, USA, right outside of Charlotte. So I cover the Charlotte, North Carolina metro area. Cool. I mean, I feel like, you all probably have been booming for a while, but I feel like there's a lot of hype around the Carolinas, especially. Yeah, well, you know, it's pretty crazy, man. Like we, you know, we get all four seasons. It's freaking already hot as crap right now. And, you know, lots of folks wanna come here. Taxes and quality of life and seasons and beach and mountains, and it's all right here. So come on, we need some more folks. I need more houses to sell. So bring it all down if you're in the beautiful Northeast or West Coast or wherever. Yeah, like, no, I was in Denver last year and I was hanging out at a bar for a little bit while I had a friend had an appointment and he had to go to whatever I was visiting. And he had the, like the bartender was talking about how like, it just, like, you know, I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. Like, it was like, you know, Boulder, Colorado is gorgeous. Like, I need to get out. I'm thinking like the Carolinas or yeah. And it just seemed like it was the vibe I got was that there was a bit of a movement happening that she wasn't the only one. And it just struck me as interesting because you hear about Colorado, Denver, you hear about, you know, California. Well, I've heard there's an exodus happening there, but yeah, have you experienced that? Yeah, I mean, I think there's, the market seems to be doing well here, right? I mean, we're a little bit insulated, I think, from the tumultuousness of, you know, everything that's going on. Still a good market here. You know, Charlotte itself, Charlotte proper is so saturated that really folks are really kind of commuting in from secondary and even tertiary markets around. So we're really hyper-focused on like an hour radius of center city Charlotte. And so you get down into South Carolina there a little bit, which is, I'm born and raised in Rock Hill and then loved it so much, moved back after college and a little bit of work. And so, you know, there's tax benefits to either or, right? Schools seem to be really well in some of these secondary markets. And so really, it's a great place to raise a family.

You know, banking is a big industry here. And so folks are moving to here. You know, we got Charlotte Douglas International Airport, which is, you know, it's not a massive airport, but you can get where you need to go from it. And it seems to be a good place to set up shop and you're three hours to the mountains and three hours to the beach. And, you know, it's fun. Yeah, I mean, that's not too different from Harrisonburg where I'm at. I mean, we are in the mountains. We're in the Shenandoah Valley. John Denver sang about that a little bit. Well, he said, people think it's West Virginia, but some argue it's Western Virginia because it talks about- Western Virginia, there you go. Which comes through us. But yeah, we're four hours from the beach and, you know, in the mountains. So it's a good place. But I definitely feel like the Carolinas were getting a bit more focus and hype than Virginia for some reason. I think you guys have bigger cities too. That's probably part of it. But anyway, I guess let's, yeah, let's hear a little bit about how you got into real estate to begin with. Yeah, so real estate's a third career for me. So I was a pre-med biology student in college and didn't get into med school. And so it's like, well, great. Now I went to school to go to school and now I can't get into school. What do I do? And so I got a job right out of college selling medical devices, orthopedic implants. So hip and knee replacements, plates and screws, that kind of stuff. So I was in sales, you know, full commissioned sales, bouncing around the operating room, had a ton of fun, learned a lot. Medical sales in general, and I think the industry's changed a lot over the last, gosh, this would have been, you know, almost 20 years ago, but it was pretty cutthroat back then. And so I loved adding value to my doctors. I didn't love the sales process of like, you know, hey, I'm gonna knock on your door. I called on you last week. Has anything changed? No, cool, like, you know, so I didn't love like checking the boxes of the sales process in like a corporate setting. So I did that for a few years and then got into ministry. I worked for a multi-site, pretty large church in South Carolina as a pastor. And really it was run like a Fortune 500 company. So really high emphasis on leadership, development, very strong org structure in place. I learned a ton as a leader from my time there in ministry at that church. And then left that in 2019, right before the pandemic. And my wife basically said, hey dude, if you don't shut up and flip a house, you're not allowed to talk about it anymore. Like, I'm so tired of you talking about flipping houses. I'm so tired of you like talking about how easy it would be. Like you either need to do it or I'm gonna forbid you to talk about it. And I was like, okay, challenge accepted. So I just got a nine to five just to pay the bills while I was trying to figure out like real estate stuff. And was looking for my first investment property for first fix and flip. And didn't really know where to look. I was looking on MLS. I found out for the very first time what wholesaling is and was talking to some wholesalers trying to find a deal. And was working and got furloughed with the pandemic. And so I was sitting at home and looking for deals. And I was like, you know what? I should get my real estate license while I'm sitting at home furloughed. I've got some time. It'll save us 3% when we list properties. You know, this would probably be a good tool to have in the tool belt. And so I did all my real estate classes online. Got licensed in November of 2020 and put my first flip under contract of purchase in November of 2020. And so, yeah, so that was kind of how I got started. And so, yeah, it was a great time to be in real estate, honestly. And the more I studied, like as I was going through the process, I had always thought like real estate seems like a cool career as an agent. But I was married and had, let's see, at that point we had two kids.

We got four now, we had two kids. And I had never worked a full commission job since I had had other mouths to feed besides my own. So I was a little bit intimidated by like the jumping full into the deep end. So, but I felt like I'd be really good at it. My biggest thing is, man, I'm a connector of people. Like I just wanna be a conduit to connect people with the people that they need to know. And I think that's a big part of real estate as an agent and an investor is just like having those relationships in place. And so in December of 2020, I told my wife, I said, hey, if I can sell a house a month as an agent, because this seemed like a totally reasonable goal starting as a new agent for whatever reason. I sell a house a month at $250,000, which was not even our median price point. It was a little under our median price point. I can sell a house a month for $250,000. Everybody's getting 3% commission, because commission wasn't, commission's decreased in our market. I don't know what it's like there, but it was still at around 3%. I said, that's 7,500 bucks a month. If I can do that for six months in a row, I'd like to quit my job and go into real estate full time. And I was expecting my wife to be the safety net and say, no, we can't do that. Like, I don't know, that's a good idea, whatever. And she said, okay. It's almost more scary. Yeah, oh shit. So that was December, turns January one. And I'm like, okay, I'm gonna close the deal in January. And then I realized I don't have anything under contract. So how do you close a deal in January if you don't have any houses under contract in January? So I'm kind of freaking out. I ended up getting connected with a guy. I had followed this guy on Instagram. We had just kind of connected through social media. He was up on the north side of Charlotte. I'm on the south side. And just a hustler, man. Grinder, really good at social media marketing, and was getting into the wholesale space. So he was trying to be a real estate investor. He'd flipped one house with some partners, trying to get into wholesaling. And he said, hey, I'm looking for a real estate agent. So I DM'd him. I'm like, hey, I just happen to be a real estate agent. You know, what you got in mind? And he said, hey, I wanna list this wholesale property that I have under contract on the MLS. And I said, man, you can't do that. And he said, why not? And I said, well, I don't know. It just seems like you shouldn't be able to do that. And he was like, well, watch this video and have a conversation with your BIC and call me back. So he sent me a video of an investor in North Carolina, excuse me, two hours away from us in Raleigh, Durham area who lists all his wholesale deals on MLS. And in our MLS, you're allowed to list a property that you don't yet own as long as you have vested interest in the property, as long as you have the contract. So I had a conversation. I was like, okay, cool, let's do it. So we list, this is January, so we listed a condo that Wes had under contract to wholesale, listed on the MLS, got it under contract, closed it January 28th. That was my first deal. And man, it's been a wild ride ever since. Wes is now my business partner. He handles all the off-market side of things. I handle more of the design, project management, execution, and listing of things. And man, we've just become not only best friends, but really great business partners. We're very complimentarian of one another. And everywhere where he's weak, I'm strong, and vice versa. And he was really the gasoline to the ember that I had of getting into real estate. I've learned so much working alongside him, and it's been a wild ride ever since, man. That's awesome. How do you feel, or how do you all dance the perceived line, at least, of wholesaling versus on the market? Yeah, so I... Question? Yes, yes. No, I'll talk about this all day. I mean, I love it. Yeah, so I call Wes my partner. I literally had this conversation this morning with somebody else.

I call Wes my partner. We're partners in theory, not in entity, if that makes sense. So we have separate entities. We joint venture a lot of stuff. So I've done that really for his protection and for mine of like, hey, as a licensed realtor, I've got all these obligations to meet, right? I'm not in the room when you're having these conversations. Yeah, I'm not in the room when you're having these conversations with these sellers. And so if you do what you need to do, bring me something once you have it under contract. Let's talk about it. Figure out the best exit strategy, right? And we've done, man, we've done so much. I mean, that's one of the things that we really pride ourselves on is being well-rounded investors. So we've done wholesale deals, assignments, double closes. We've sold to institutional buyers. We've taken down ourselves and just paid cash for it in the turnaround and put it back on the MLS. We've fixed and flipped. We've done short-term rentals, long-term rentals, seller finance stuff, lease options, sandwich. I mean, we've done all kind of crazy stuff. And most of my agents in my office have no idea how to do any of this stuff, right? I mean, my BIC is calling me asking me questions about like, hey, how would you do X, you know? And it's really just because I've gotten immersed in that world and that's the world I live in all day, every day. And so I really, I mean, I had a closing this morning of a normal seller, a normal retail residential seller. And I feel like a fish out of water when I'm doing that kind of business because probably 95% of my business is investment related. Sure. Yeah, no, it makes sense. And it is, it's fun because you have this like big tool belt. You have a big toolbox, if you will, and you can really apply the best thing that makes the most sense for everybody to that unique situation where most people have like one or two tools. Yeah, well, and you know, and I think going back to your original question, like, you know, the reason everybody feels a certain type of way about wholesalers is because there's some shady wholesalers out there, right? And, you know, There's some bad agents out there. Absolutely, that's what I was getting ready to say, right? It's like, you know, I don't know where it is around you, but here it feels like, you know, investors feel like agents are like drastically overpaid to just open and unlock doors, right? And agents feel like investors are shady and like always like the cheapest SOBs ever and like trying to pull one over on everybody. And the reality is like 90% of both are neither of those things, right? But there's the 10% outliers who really have made a bad name for themselves and put a sour taste in the other's mouth. And what I try to pride myself on, and Wes is the same way, is like, we're ethical, we're honest, right? I've sat in someone's living room and had to explain to them like, hey, what do you think your house is worth? Yeah, you're probably right. If it was fixed up, it would be this. But if you back out your closing costs and your commissions, you're going to net this. And to get to that price point, you need to put $30,000 in a kitchen, you need to put $15,000 in the bathroom, like all that stuff. I'll buy your house for that number. And he's like, well, why would you do that? Well, because my guys, my kitchen renovation costs $10,000, not 30, because I have the contractors and the supply chain. It's really just education. It's an education gap. But man, I'm trying to add as much value as I can to investors to let them know like, hey, everybody can win, right? We can work shoulder to shoulder. I can be a tremendous asset to you, you can be a tremendous asset to me and my business, and everybody wins, and it's not a competition. And so that's really kind of what I've built my business on. Yeah, that makes sense. You listed out a bunch of different strategies you've done. And I'm wondering, like you talked about, like your broker, people in your office coming to you, asking you what those things are.

Do you wanna go through some of those and explain what they are at a high level? Sure, yeah, we can do that for sure. Yeah, I mean, so- That's double-closing, people may not be familiar with that. Yeah, so double-closing, I think it's a relatively new, you know, five years, relatively new exit strategy. So especially, I don't know what the laws are in Virginia, but South Carolina has a no wholesaling law in place. North Carolina's talking about putting a no wholesaling law in place. You know, and so when I say wholesale, what I mean is assigning a contract, right? So a wholesaler is going out, they're finding the property owner, the seller, they're getting the property under contract for X, and then they're gonna market the property and essentially find a buyer at price Y, and they're gonna marry the two together and take the money out of the middle, right? That's an assignment of contract. In North Carolina, our contract, by default, is non-assignable. So our North Carolina realtor form says this is not an assignable contract. So the way that people have been getting around that, you know, is what they're doing, they're doing what's called double closing. So they're borrowing money, it's called transactional funding, they're borrowing money from a person or an entity or an institution, and they're gonna buy the property and then turn around, they're gonna actually take title record and then turn around and sell the property to the end buyer the same day, usually. And so that transactional money comes into the attorney's account, it buys, the property's turned around and resold, and that money comes back out of the account back to the lender, and then the investor gets to keep the overage there. Yeah, okay, that makes sense. And what are other ways can wholesalers typically close? And again, I understand it's price-specific to your market, anybody listening to this does need to consult an attorney. And trying to find a good real estate or creative real estate attorney is challenging. So I can definitely recommend somebody that might be able to assist, even in a different state, to just kind of help educate other attorneys, if you will. But yeah, talk about what you know for your area. Yeah, same for here. If anybody's listening from the Carolinas or down in this area, we've got some attorneys that are certainly able to help on calls and educate as well. Yeah, so in my mind, when you're talking about real estate investing, it's all about what the best exit strategy is for the property, right? So there's no bad deal. It's just you gotta find the right exit strategy for the property. And so, like we said, wholesaling, marketing it up and finding an in-buyer, double-closing on it. We have dabbled in the creative finance space, so that's a whole can of worms. I don't know how much you want to open that box, but we've done some seller financing stuff where the seller of the property title transfers, but the seller retains the mortgage or they become the bank, essentially. We've done some subject to the existing mortgage kind of stuff. Sub two is a big thing. There's all kinds of videos all over YouTube about it, where you buy the house, but the loan stays in the original seller's name and you make payments on their behalf. We do a lot of fix and flip. We do some, we call it wholetail, where we're basically taking down the property with a hard money lender or private money lender and really just kind of cleaning it out and popping it right back on the MLS. I mean, the MLS is the biggest buyers list in America, right? It's the number one aggregate of buyers for real estate in your market. And with the IDX, it pushes across to Zillow and Realtor and all these other fun ones. And so if you can get your property there, you can get the most number of eyes on it. If you can get the most number of eyes on it, you can get the best price for it, in my opinion. So we're gonna always push to get things into the MLS so that we can then get it in front of as many eyes as possible.

And then it's just about educating the other agents, right? I mean, there's a ton of agents who have been in the game for 30 years and they have no idea what an assignment of contract is or they don't understand, we're getting contracts written and they're just pulling the name off tax records and putting that as a seller. And I'm like, no, the seller is this entity. And they're like, no, it's not. I'm like, yes, it is. And you're having to explain and educate, right? So yeah, so there's, I mean, there's all kinds of exit strategies, right? You know, rentals are hard right now. DSCR loans are tough with the interest rates where they're at right now. But, you know, buying and holding is still a great strategy, I think. We've done some short-term rentals, some midterm rentals, which is kind of that 30 to 90 day rental, you know, for like insurance or travel nurses, stuff like that. So in my mind, every property has an exit strategy. If you can get, if you can match the property and the exit strategy together, you can formulate a solution. It's just, you know, I get sent bad deals all the time and it's just, they're sending them with the wrong exit strategy, right? Yeah. No, it makes a lot of sense. And yeah, I think you're right with rentals being harder right now. And a lot of people are having to get more creative with how they are going about it. So some people are exploring the subject to area. And I think you mentioned something about a wraparound. That's another way of doing that, I believe, where you basically add an extra layer of protection to a subject to deal for the seller, where they basically have a deed of trust written, I believe is how that works. But yeah, and then there's, I mean, seller financing can help make that work better as well if you get better terms, so better entry rates. Lease options for folks, you know, if they can't qualify for a conventional mortgage, but they've got some money for a down payment, you know, there's the lease option there where the seller can get a lease option where the seller retains the title and, you know, they have a vested interest in the, the buyer has vested interest in the property with the down payment, and then they take over, you know, they're paying their monthly fee and they're handling all the repairs and all that jazz. There's, yeah, there's a ton of options, right? It's just knowing your market, knowing what's needed. I know you do a lot of listings. Are you getting a lot more creative finance or sub-two offers on your properties? No, not particularly. No, not in this area. Okay. And we still have a pretty strong demand. I just had a very big bidding war on my most recent listing. And so far, yeah, we haven't needed to go that route necessarily. And you're wondering, like, how is somebody willing to spend 20% over asking price at one of these interest rates but I mean, it's, I think it's just- Were you priced at market or did you price it competitively to try to drive it up? No, I mean, no, it was, no, I think it was right around market. The person who brought an offer would have argued that we were a little bit under, but, you know, it was based, it just depends on the comps you use. We were basing comps on the, in the neighborhood comps and they might've found some other ones in different neighborhoods that would have supported a higher price point. But, but yeah, yeah, it's just, you know, there's definitely properties that you can, I'm finding that different pockets of the market, you can do different strategies with like, you know, being competitive in the price point usually is the best, you know, route where you're trying to get multiple offers, trying to get it sold fast, pricing it right around where the comps say. But then I think there's sometimes, especially right now in this market, it feels like there's just this like pent up demand that's just like, you know, as soon as something comes on, it's getting sold. But there are markets that are a little bit slower.

And in that, in those markets, I've have actually pushed the price a little bit higher than I think should be, as opposed to hoping it gets bid up, thinking that we're only gonna get one offer on it, maybe as opposed to, you know, five plus, that if we're gonna get somebody in the first three days making an offer on it, right around asking price, as opposed to hoping it gets bid up, but it probably won't. Same results as $10,000 loss or whatever. So it's just, it's a fun, you know, it's kind of a strategy where you gotta get, you know, hyperlocal and really understand your market, like you said. Yeah, for sure. Yeah, for sure. But we're also setting up a midterm rental as we, as we speak, I hauled two mattresses over there today. They got delivered to our house instead of that house. So my checker on box on Amazon, huh? Yeah, exactly. I won't name names, but my co-host. Uh-huh, yep. But yeah, what, have you, you mentioned insurance. Is that like people that are like, you know, out of their house because of damage or whatever? Have you, have you, a few of these? Do you have a couple of these that you're running now or? Yeah, so we don't, I don't have any currently, but we've got, I've got some clients who do. And man, it's been, you know, again, it's a relationship, it's a relationship business, right? So, you know, this, this one girl in particular, she's done a really great job at networking with, Charlotte has a pretty expansive hospital system. And so they have a lot of travel nurses. And so what she's done is really networked. And I mean, midterm was kind of her, midterm and short term was her strategy of choice for a very long time. And she's done a really good job of building out relationships with folks in the hospital system and with, you know, in the insurance space so that when they have a need, she's their first call, right? And there's obviously, you know, websites like Furnished Finder and all that jazz, but for her it was a lot of, yeah, Airbnb, exactly. But for her, it was a lot of, you know, hey, the HR manager at this, you know, hospital system knows that these three travel nurses are coming in for the next 90 days and they're calling her going, hey, do you have housing for these three folks? Which is, I mean, it's exactly what you want, you know? Yeah, absolutely. It's where we're excited about getting this running and building those connections and seeing if it's a viable strategy to replicate. Because obviously, you know, if you do have a steady stream potential, but you like are constantly booked, you know, like having availability too will keep people coming back as well. But yeah. Now, what made your midterm on that particular property? Yeah, that's a good question. I mean, it's basically exactly what we were just talking about is it didn't pencil out well. It would have been an outstanding flip, but it's one of those things where we have held pretty much every flip we've done that we've liked the location of and liked the kind of size and everything about it, we've wanted to hold it. We've done a burn strategy with it. And this one is the same. And it could have, you know, penciled out barely. Like, you know, if you're not being super critical with the vacancies and all those kind of extra things that you're supposed to calculate in, if you were really strict about that, then it wouldn't have been the best or it would, you know, broken even kind of thing. But, you know, it was also just kind of a fun idea to try this. And, you know, I figured worst case scenario, we end up having, we lose some money on the furniture. Not really, because we'll sell it and it will make, you know, we have a pretty good margin to profit on that. So that's not- And then you can always pop a 12 month tenant in it, right? That too. Yeah, we could do that too. And, but yeah, we really liked the property. We really liked the location. We have a downtown area that's revitalized and it's brought a lot of vibrancy to that area and a lot of professionals want to be close to that area.

So this is about a thousand square foot house, not huge, and it's charming and it, you know, walkable to those bars and restaurants. And so I think it's just a, it's a great location long-term and we'd love to keep it. And we're excited about trying this kind of thing out. And if it works, we, you know, would look to maybe converting other ones that we have into a midterm or exploring some of the short-term possibilities as well. Our city itself doesn't allow it, so we'd have to go outside the city limits. Are you hyper-focused in your town, in your city? For investing? Yeah. Yeah, I mean, so I've done stuff outside of, I think it's for, yeah. Yes, and why is I think that, A, I understand the market the best, B, the city itself has gonna have the most, I think the more you are under the median sales price, the more you are, you know, in the area that the most people wanna be in, the safer you are for renting, for selling, et cetera. So that's our sweet spot. If we can get something underneath the median sales price and value, right? There's just so many exit strategies there, like you talked about, like there's just, you know, having the best one is what we go after, but then having a BCD is also good. Yeah. Good to add to that. And that's one of the big things I try to teach new investors who are coming in, you know, they're like, hey, I wanna flip a house. I'm just like, okay, cool. Like, number one, let's talk about that. You know, why, what does that mean to you? What's your tolerance? Like, do you wanna have a full gut job? Do you wanna cosmetic, you know? But then what I try to teach them is like, hey, we gotta have backup exit strategies, right? Like if we flip this and we list it and it doesn't sell, then what are we gonna do? Yeah. Right? Will it cash flow? Will it at least cover your rent on a DSCR? Okay, cool. Then that's our check down, right? Like that's our audible. Or, you know, can we short-term rental it? Can we, you know, all these things, right? So we're really big on like, man, if it's got one exit strategy, not a great, not a great fit. Not a great fit. And you really are kind of like hamstrung, right? And so always making sure like, yes, option A, like you said, is the ideal world, but have we got a B, C, and D? And if so, then let's pull the trigger on it and go. Yeah, we, I had a couple pretty difficult flips that were in, you know, smaller markets and more rural. And just, I just, you know, they took a long time, they're difficult, and it's probably just something that, you know, it was, it's not like it was 2021, 2022. So, you know, I think taking a different approach, be a little bit more conservative is gonna be good going forward. And, you know, cooling my jets a little bit on it. And then, you know, there's a whole other thing with this. We're having fun with this midterm rental and we're excited. That's important. Yeah. You can't put dollars on that, but that's like very important. It keeps you engaged. It keeps you, you know, not from getting burnt out. And my, you know, my wife's loving spending money on all the different furniture and stuff. We're probably gonna be inquiring some of the nice pieces that, you know, we, hey, that would work well in our house. We'll get one too. But it's, you know, it's a lot of fun. They're doing a great job. I have a, you know, a stager design person that's getting her license, joining my team, but she's doing a ton of work with getting like everything just to feel really good and have design elements throughout it. So it's fun. But at the same time, like even if we get a really good return on it, if we just sold it and put everything into a good syndication, we probably would be doing better. Now you have that mathematical stuff in the back of your head too, but, you know, that doesn't really factor in the appreciation as much, so. That's right, for sure. But yeah, so you say about 70% of your business is investors, right? About 90% is investors. About 90%, sorry.

Yeah. Okay. So, and then the 10% are gonna be just, you know, connections, personal connections kind of thing? Yeah, I mean, we, yeah, personal connections, fear of influence, referrals. You know, we've got some lead, I'm with Realty One Group. We've got some lead programs, but not a ton of leads coming in that way through the brokerage. And so most of mine, you know, I'm born and raised in Rock Hill. I've got a pretty strong network of folks I grew up with, folks who know my family. And so people know what I do. I am the, you know, I'm the flip realtor guy, like that's kind of what people know me as. And so, you know, so I've picked up some business of like, you know, hey, if you can't find the house you're looking for, like, why don't we buy this ugly house and make it the house you wanna buy, you know? And so, but that's a little more, it's a little more complex because, you know, personally, the reason I like working with investors is because there's not a lot of emotion attached, right? So they're not crying, but I mean, you know, this lady this morning was like crying when she saw this house and moving back to Ohio. And I'm like, you know, pat her on the back, like, it's okay, you know, it's just a house, like, you know, but there's memories, right? And there's, you know, personal value to the home and stuff like that. And I'm empathetic for sure. Like I said, I mean, I got a background in ministry, like it equips me to handle people like this, you know? But with investors, it's just like, okay, do the numbers make sense? Cool, let's do it. Yeah. No, totally, I get that. And it is appealing. I think there's also, the bad part about it is also just then it's harder to find the right property in some ways. Like I think, like there's like, it's harder to pencil out these days, especially. For sure. But, you know, there's definitely been a huge advantage for me in, and that's kind of one of the niches I've narrowed in on is kind of helping sellers get their house ready for the market with my contractor teams and my knowledge and like, you know, kind of being able to get some of those good prices from, you know, the volume I give my contractors. And applying- Are you managing that process hands-on? Yes. Yes. And are you- I'm probably systemizing that a little bit. Okay. And then are you, and if I'm getting too personal, tell me to shut up. Are you having your sellers pay for that as they go or are you fronting that and letting them pay it at closing? No, it's on them. I help pay. That's part of, I've got like a, you know, help pay you, the contractors. But also I have a contract that mostly is okay with getting paid at closing. So- Yeah, just send an invoice in. If you can get that lined up and, you know, that's gonna be, you know, it might be an extra month or so for them, but that's a huge advantage to some sellers. And maybe that's something that, depending on your contractor, like say, hey, look, just for special occasions, like we'll try to get you 75% of them. Like, you know, if you want 40% upfront or whatever, we can try to get that for most of them. But, you know, if we have the special circumstance where you'd be cool with it, I think, you know, that's a huge advantage. We get you more and more business this way. So it's gotta be a win-win with them. And the higher volume, I think, is part of it for sure. Yeah, that's great. Yeah. Yeah, man. I gotta ask if you have any golden nuggets you'd wanna impart on our listeners that could be for real estate agents or investors or, you know, agents that are looking to get into investing. Sure. Whatever you got. Yeah, yeah, I mean, I think for me, like the drum that I bang over and over again to every agent that I talk to is like, find your niche, however you wanna say it, find your niche and like double down on that and really like build that out because that's what, somebody said the riches are in the niches. And I think that's like, not only is the money there, but like the fulfillment is there. Right.

So, you know, like I told you, my first deal was with Wes on this wholesale deal, but then I had a listing of a girl that I worked with at my nine to five before I quit to go into real estate full-time. Her and her husband are getting a divorce. They're like selling this house. And it was just like, I'm like, guys, like I would rather be anywhere than in this room talking through this. You know? Yeah. You know, and then I had a buyer that wanted to go see 80 houses in a weekend and never pulled the trigger on anything. And so I'm going, like if I'm a new agent who's not resilient and I don't know that there's, you know, real estate was a conduit for me to get to the investing side of things. If that's not me, if I didn't have like a bigger real estate purpose other than just being an agent and I got my license because, you know, it looks sexy on TV or it seems like you don't have to wear that hard and you can set your own schedule. Like I would have quit a long time ago because general brokerage, like if that's not your thing, you're going to pull your hair out. And I think you've got to really hone in on like what you want to do and what fills you up. Like I got a friend of mine, she loves working with first-time homebuyers. Now I would rather get a lobotomy, but she, like, it's her jam, man. And she's got it dialed in, she's got it systematized, like she's great at it. And I refer for, like if I get a first-time homebuyer, I'm like, you need to talk to her. You don't need to talk to me, you need to talk to her. She's an expert. But you really got to like hone in on like, yes, what can make you money, but also like what can get you fulfilled at the end of the day? Like when you lay your head down at night, you know, you got to know you're making a difference and you got to know that you're doing something that fills your cup up. And for me, man, that's like running around to flip. I mean, you know, probably TMI, but like my day-to-day, like I had a normal residential closing. Then I went, picked up some materials for a flip we've got going on. Then I went going checking in on new construction stuff. I'm like, use the bathroom in a porta potty at a job site today, because I might have so much going on and I'm like running around, you know? But like, I love that stuff. Every day is different for me. I'm like, you know, my shoes are dirty. I'm not in a suit. And like, that's like my jam. Now, other people, that would be miserable for them. And it's just because it's not their niche, right? So you've got to figure that out and you've got to really like lean into that. And I think there's a tremendous opportunity if you can identify it and you can really brand yourself and like put some oomph behind it, you know? And it doesn't have to be investing, right? Like everybody, anytime I lead a training on real estate investing, all the agents are like, hey, I want to learn how to do what you do. I'm like, no, you probably don't. Like, it's a lot. It's miserable some days, right? It's really hard. But like, maybe you really like dogs. Be like the dog parent agent, right? Like, you know, lean into that. Lean into like hanging out at dog parks and like passing out business cards and giving dogs clothes and gifts. Like whatever you love to do in your spare time, like pour gasoline on that and incorporate that into your real estate business. For me, it's flipping houses. I would be doing it whether I was a licensed agent or not. And so if I can help other people, you know, not make their flip look like crap, then that's like, I'm happy at the end of the day and I get to go home and, you know, not be grumpy and all that fun stuff. So that's my golden nugget. It's just like, find out what fills you up and figure out where it overlaps with real estate and go all in on that. Yeah, I love it. Yeah, what's the point if you're miserable, right? Oh my gosh, I mean. Money's nice. Congrats, you had a bunch of GCI last year and you hate your life, you know, like get real, dude.

Yeah, okay, so do you have any books then that you think are fundamental for everybody that they should read or maybe ones that you're currently enjoying? Yeah, so I got this question and dreaded it because I'm not a reader. I need to be a reader. I am massively ADHD. And so like audio books just don't even work for me. I'm that kind of guy. In fact, we just got back from Mexico on vacation and I checked out two books out of the library to take with me. And my wife laughed at me on the plane. She was like, dude, you're not gonna read. You're not gonna read those. But I was thinking about the question and I know you've had some Tim Ferriss fans on here before. The four hour shift for me was a game changer. So I got it. I don't know if you've read that. Have you read the four hour shift? Yeah, I don't know if I did the, so my problem is I'll start things. I don't know if I read the whole thing. No, don't worry. So I like to cook and it was pitched as like learn how to hack these chef skills and all this stuff. So I got it. And really, man, my biggest takeaway from it was like, he, you know, he's crazy anyway, but like he, just the way he broke down, like learning how you learn and like breaking things down so that you can learn it to become an expert, even if you've never done it before was fascinating. And then the thing that has stuck with me, I read this book years ago. The thing that has stuck with me is just because nobody else does it or because it's not how it's historically done doesn't mean that it doesn't work, right? So the example he uses in the book is he is trying to become a wine snob and he decants wine by taking an immersion blender and sticking it in the wine and immersion blending wine for like, it's like a really expensive bottle of wine. Yeah. Yeah, I mean, you know, all these like, all these wine enthusiasts are like, oh my God. Yeah. You know, and he's like, but it makes sense, right? Like if the point of decanting wine is to get air into it, what's the best way to get air into it? And so that has, I'm a bit of a rule follower growing up. And so that has really pushed me. And Wes, my business partner is great of like, hey, Wes, we can't do this. He's like, well, why not? I'm like, well, I don't know, Wes. That's just not how it's done. He's like, well, why not? And I'm like, well, shit, I don't have a really good answer for that. So let's try it, you know? So it's opened us up to like so many things that I don't think we would have ever experienced if I would have just wet blanketed the conversation by going, ah, it's not possible. It's like, well, why not? It's like, well, that's a good question. I don't really know why not. Let's try it. And then we try it and it works. And so, yeah, four-hour chef. And there's some practical cooking stuff in there too, but Tim Curry's just a freak. I think I was talking about or thinking about, does he also have a four-hour body? He has a four-hour body, yes. Yeah, he's got four-hour work week was the first one I think. You read the four-hour body? Yeah, I never read that one. Yeah, and because he has some stuff about food in there. Like it's just like, you know, high protein kind of. But anyway, so, okay, that sounds interesting. I'd have to check that out. I mean, and honestly, like the food stuff, I love cooking too. I love food. I haven't had near as much time to do as cooking. And also the kids are a lot more picky than they want. They don't like to, you know, have my lamb sog that I want to cook, that's spicy. So anyway, eating that process up, which sounds like it probably would be part of the book, would be really, probably has some really good tips in there, I'll have to check it out. So thanks for that. Yeah, and it's like cookbook size. So it looks like a cookbook. Okay. Yeah, it's pretty interesting. So it was a cool, and if you research it, there was a whole, it was a cool branding play too. Like that was the first book he published from Amazon Publishing.

And so it was like non-traditional book publishing. And all these like traditional publishers, like got all up in arms about it. And like Barnes and Noble, like blacklisted the book. It wouldn't care. I mean, it was like a whole thing, but you know, it just helped him further solidify, I think his position of, I mean, he's just so creative. I think he's really interesting to learn from just because he thinks way differently than I think. And so anytime I think he can be around somebody like that, it's worth taking notes for sure. Do you then, are you a big podcast listener? Like if you've interviewed. Yeah, yeah, I like some podcasts, man. Yeah, my interests are all over the place though. So I can't listen to like just real estate or just leadership podcasts because I'll get real burnt out. So I'm like listening to like, yeah, I listen to some wild stuff. What about you? Yeah, no, I do. I mean, I don't, I haven't listened to it near as much as I have in the past. But honestly, I like to do a podcast and mow the lawn every week at least. And that's something that's like, I have a zero turn mower, so I'm not out there getting exercise. But that is like the most peaceful, amazing thing. Like, I just feel so much better after I do that. Just like interesting ideas, things that get my brain going and just, yeah, the peaceful moment of the lawn. So I feel like I'm Hank Hill right now. Yeah. Damn it, Bobby. Yeah. Thank you. Oh, incredible King of the Hill reference. Way to go, man. I hadn't thought about King of the Hill in a minute and you just brought it all back. It is, I don't know if underrated is the right word, but it is, it's a, Mike Judd is a genius. But Jordan, if people were interested in investing in your area, wanna reach out to you or follow you for more, where can they find you? Yeah, Instagram's gonna be the best place. I am at JordanSmithSC, like South Carolina. And there you can find all kind of my escapades and some really pretty houses we've lived. I'm a design guy, so like I, that's my whole thing is, call it ballin' on a budget. In fact, there's a, there's a shameless plug, I guess. Well, we'll try to add value, right? There's a reel in there, I will, I don't think it's pinned right now, but I'll pin it before this goes live. But there's a reel in there that I talk about design stuff and I'm actually giving away a free design guide with links to materials and mood boards and stuff like that. So if your listeners are interested, they can go on there and there's a keyword to comment and it'll send them a link to download that for free. So check me out on Instagram, @JordanSmithSC. It's, yeah, it's always an adventure over there. And my Instagram stories are usually, when I'm posting them, it's like a flip house that's in shambles and then the next story will be like a ridiculously funny meme and then the next story will be like, you know, my three-year-old singing Taylor Swift. And so it's a pretty well-rounded follow. I think I'm pretty fun to follow. You got the Swifties at home too? Oh my gosh, we are. I, it's crazy. So Collins turns four at the end of this month and she somehow latched onto the heirs tour on Disney+ and we watched it all day every day for not an exaggeration, two months straight. And I mean, like everybody in our family, I've got four kids, everybody in our family knows every word. And then the darndest thing, man, I think the algorithm got her. So like, you know, like when you finish watching something, it'll be like, oh, if you like this, you'll probably like these three movies or shows. So she, her newest infatuation is 2025. Her newest infatuation is Hannah Montana. Miley Cyrus, Hannah Montana, four-year-old. And she is all, I mean, she's so sassy and has a microphone and a mic stand and a guitar and will put on a dress and you cannot tell her she's not a rock star. So that sounds like our house. We have not gotten that bug yet, but we are- Well, don't delete Hannah Montana off of everything that you can. A Swiftie cover concert.

I took the girls, a little daddy-daughter date and it was a lot of fun. So ironically enough, I'm actually taking her on to a Swiftie, to a Taylor Swift cover band tonight. For our daddy-daughter. Yeah, for our daddy-daughter date, legitimately, yeah. How old are your girls? Eight and five. And then I got a two-year-old son. Okay, fun ages, man. Yeah, ours are about to be 10, almost seven, about to be four, and then like one and a half. Okay. It's like her cats, man. Yeah. It's always an adventure. For sure. Well, Jordan, thanks so much for being on here. It's been a lot of fun. I think we're cut from the same cloth. We'll have to stay in touch. Yes, sir. We'd love that.

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Five digital drawings comparing the original crew of the Tulpar from Mouthwashing with their Anti-Tulpar versions. Each have lists of traits next to them.

First image is Curly. Regular curly is standing plainly and smiling off to the side. Anti-Curly is facing the viewer directly in a wide stance. He is wearing gloves, boots and spurs, and a hat, as well as a gun holster, and he has a cartoonish smile and "pie eyes".

Text reads:

Curly: laid back leader, prioritizes morale, friendly, non-violent, unsatisfied as captain.

Anti-Curly: follows policy closely, rules with an iron fist (+ spurs), hostile, cartoonishly violent (oops), being a captain is All He Has.

Second is Jimmy. Regular Jimmy is facing the viewer with a bored expression. Anti-Jimmy is smiling, slightly hunched in and waving with one foot raised. He's wearing soda jewelry, his clothes have green and pink patches, his hair is dyed and in a ponytail, and he has slash scars across his face and is missing his middle finger.

Text reads:

Jimmy: Plain, not very expressive, deeply insecure, quiet, silver-tongued, short-sighted, doesn't consider consequences.

Anti-Jimmy: Expressive + accessorizes, secure in his identity, Loud, struggles in conversation, overthinker + hates to cause harm.

Third is Anya. Regular Anya smiles softly with one hand over her chest. Anti-Anya glares at the viewer, slouching with one hand on her hip. She has glasses, a ponytail, a black turtleneck, and is wearing crocs.

Text reads:

Anya: Tries to see the best in people, Fawn response, Stubborn and hardworking, Cares about health and safety, kind.

Anti-Anya: cynical, fight response, gives up easily, careless, cruel.

Fourth is Daisuke. Regular Daisuke has one hand in his pocket, the other waving as he smiles. Anti-Daisuke is partially hunched with his hands clasped anxiously. His hair is plain and he's wearing a burgundy cardigan and white vans.

Text reads:

Daisuke: Outgoing, Directionless, Helpful, Yapper, People Pleaser.

Anti-Daisuke: Reserved, Driven, Doesn't like being asked to help, hates small talk, spiteful.

Last is Swansea. Regular Swansea is frowning to the side with his hands on his hips. Anti-Swansea smiles with a hand behind his head. He's wearing suspenders, work boots, has leather patches on his knees, and rosy cheeks.

Text reads:

Swansea: Just keeps saying shit, teaches through his experience, rough around the edges, knows he's not a good person, gets groovy when drunk.

Anti-Swansea: man of few words, "fuck around and find out" teaching style, sweet exterior, thinks he's a good person, gets wallowy when drunk.

end ID]

~~~~

THE ANTI-TULPAR CREW ARRIVES!! hopefully they were worth the wait uwu

idk exactly how most other anti-aus work, but to gather my general thoughts together, basically i'm flipping several Core Traits (the lists in the pics are by no means comprehensive, just enough to get a vibe) to flip their personalities. this ends up flipping their dynamics quite a bit as well, ofc. anti-curly is a very.... Dramatic antagonist. the setting, however, stays the same. i'm not flipping pony express or anything like that, it wouldn't be as interesting to me to change Everything. i mostly made this au to play around with character designs and swapped dynamics and stuff and to see how things would go if the people were different while their circumstances aren't.

also. it turns out when you take a generally shitty person and make someone who is the Opposite of those things, you get someone generally pretty pleasant.

So Expect More Anti-Jimmy AJSHDADJHKASJHKD

[harryspet]

lonely little lamb | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!stepbrother!rafe x stepsister!reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader, dd/lg dynamic, mentions of violence/blood, somnophilia, stalker!rafe, DUBCON, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: happy OBX4! This was written before the new season :) Dividers by @/ghoulbloggerrr

In which Rafe knows your secret and just how perfect you'd be together.

word count: 7.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Rafe didn’t catch on immediately.  At first, he just thought you were strange, his expectations already tainted by what he'd assumed about you. He’d been prepared for his stepmother’s daughter to be a brat, and on the surface, you fit that mold perfectly. But there was something off about the way you acted around him. You never played innocent, never tried to charm him or win him over like you did with everyone else. You gave him sharp glances at the dinner table when he talked back to Ward and even angrier stares when he disrespected your mother. You never hung around after dinner, always rushing to go back to your room, and “call your friends from back home”. Of course, Rafe listened at your door often and he never heard you making any calls. Having grown up in the house, he felt entitled to know what was happening within its walls.

Your behavior puzzled Rafe to the point of obsession. He woke up every morning to check if your car was still in the driveway and easily memorized your schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you attended classes in the morning at the local community college. On the other days of the week you sat through your online classes. You never ate too early, always going for a late breakfast that usually consisted of avocado toast, a bowl of fruit, and you always came down to refill your “sippy cup”. That’s what Rafe had dubbed it. It was clear, decorated with a stencil design of a baby lamb and had a flip-up spout for easy drinking. You didn’t go many places without it. 

It was the small things that fascinated him. The comfort items you clung to, the simple routines that made your life feel organized and secure. You usually took a bubble bath about thirty minutes after dinner, and when you forgot to lock your door, Rafe would slip into your room, drawn by the intimacy of your private world.

He picked up items around your room, like the frame you kept beside your bed. It held a photo of you and your mom: you in your old high school cheerleading uniform, hair pinned back in pigtails, while your mom smiled widely beside you. Despite her cheerful expression, your eyes in the picture looked wistful and lonely. Rafe couldn’t help but imagine you now, with adult curves and eager eyes, wearing that outfit. The thought stirred something in him, making him hard, and he had to tuck himself away, cursing under his breath. At least if you walked in, he wouldn’t be caught in the act.

The more he learned about you, the harder it was to quiet these thoughts. He had always found you pretty, but now his body and mind were becoming obsessed with you. He made a habit of collecting a pair of your panties from the hamper before leaving. He needed them for later, for the release that he craved, driven mad by the scent of you.

The sound of soft, melodic music flowed into your bedroom from behind the bathroom door. Sometimes it was girly pop songs, other times classical, but more often than not, it had the gentle, soothing quality of nursery music. Your bed was always neatly made, draped in a floral quilt, and you kept the same stuffed animals on top, meticulously placed. A small chesnut brown teddy bear, white bunny, and a tiny stuffed lamb. Each one had their own white ribbon wrapped around its neck, tied into a bow. 

One time he caught a glimpse of your nighttime skin care routine. You removed the light makeup you always wore and used about ten different products that Rafe didn’t recognize, nor could he guess their use. The last layer was always a light layer of lip balm and Rafe always leaned a bit closer when your puckered your lips in the mirror. His mind easily wandered to idea of your lips around him. 

You wouldn’t look so lonely, little lamb, if you just let me in. 

He had his suspicions about the secret, kinky things you were into. There had to be a reason you spent so much time by yourself. He didn’t get the answers he was looking for until one night when you’d left your laptop, unlocked on your desk. He took the opportunity to program his fingerprint into it too, just in case he needed to snoop again. 

He combed through your social media, public and private, and started checking your messages daily, keeping track of who you talked to, what you were up to. Your public social media was perfect. A mix of selfies with soft lighting, photos of cute coffee shops, and other things you deemed as your “aesthetic”. 

It was your camera roll that finally gave Rafe the answers he had been searching for. One folder, marked with a delicate pink heart, caught his attention immediately. Inside were photos of you, taken in front of your floor-length mirror. Each picture was eerily similar, the same vacant, wide-eyed expression on your face, as though you were lost in some faraway place.

You wore pajamas he’d never seen before, soft and childlike. Sometimes it was pastel-colored footie pajamas, other times it was nightgowns in soft shades of pink, lavender, or baby blue. In a few, you were bundled up in fuzzy socks or slippers with floppy bunny ears. Your hair was always styled with bows, either pink or white. There was a strange innocence in these details, one that clashed with the tension building inside Rafe as he scrolled through the images.

Sometimes you were biting down on your nails, others your thumb rested in your mouth, but most of the time you were gripping one of your stuffed animals tight to your chest. 

You looked...adorable. But in a way that made Rafe’s pulse quicken with something darker. The softness, the vulnerability you displayed in those photos, fed his obsession.

Another folder marked with a unicorn emoji held more photos that you’d saved. He recognized some of the characters from children’s TV shows he remembered Wheezie watching. Others were pictures from Disney movies, and Rafe quickly realized you had a special preference for the princesses. You seemed drawn to Cinderalla, Belle, and Snow White. It offered a glimpse into your mind, into your fantasies, how you were drawn to things with an air of purity and sweetness. 

Rafe’s heart slowed when a message popped up from someone named Mr. Hayes. Been thinking about you all day, sweetheart. The message said. A moment later, another one came. How was ur bath? 

Rafe opened the text thread and began to scroll. Each word that he read made his blood boil. There were too many messages for him to read. You’d sent him photos of yourself, let him call you pet names, and you’d even gone so far as calling him… Daddy. He’d never sent you a photo but that didn’t seem to matter. You were willing to share the details of your life with him. 

Rafe’s vision blurred with rage. Daddy. This virtual fantasy, a stranger who you didn’t even know, did not deserve your affection. He decided then you were his, whether you knew it or not. 

Rafe decided then to also make it a habit to check your messages. 

Several weeks later, you’d finally convinced Mr. Hayes to meet you in person. Rafe couldn’t let that happen. As your stepbrother and your protector, it would be wrong of him to let some stranger hurt you. Besides, he’d become obsessed to the point where now he was dying to know exactly who this man was. 

You didnd’t know any better, but he did. 

“Hey,” Rafe spoke to you the afternoon before your secret rendevouz, interrupting your fruit cutting, “My Dad just texted. Him and your Mom aren’t going to make it back tonight. There flight keeps getting delayed so they’re going to stay the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh, okay,” You replied simply, returning back to your task again. 

“Wheezie’s sleeping at a friends and I’m probably going to a party at Kelce’s,” You gave him a look, as if it was strange to be conversating with him alone without the presence of the rest of their blended family, “...Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head, “No, thank you. I’ll just stay in.”

Rafe leaned on the marble countertop, staring across the kitchen island at you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you go out one time since you moved in.” 

Rafe’s sudden interest in your habits had become more noticeable lately, but you figured it was nothing, just him being Rafe, always lurking in the background, watching everyone, everything. Your mother had warned you that she thought something was off about him and living with him over the past nine months had sealed the fact that you didn’t trust him. 

You didn’t trust many people at all, actually, never having had a stable home life. Your mother had always had money, or at least latched on to men who had money, but those men came and went. Even your mother wasn’t someone you could count on. She’d uprooted your life more than once, moving you across states just to be with a man who could give her the lifestyle she believed she deserved.

Mr. Hayes had offered you comfort in this transitional time. You had no one to confide your secret in accept for the communities you found online. It made you anxious to even think about finding a partner one day and having to explain this side of you. Friends on the internet wouldn’t judge you.

But online, the stakes felt lower. The people you spoke with, people like Mr. Hayes, didn’t judge. The risk of being truly seen, and rejected, was something you couldn’t handle. Not yet.

You paused what you were doing, knife hovering over a piece of strawberry, “You really want to spend the night alone. On a Friday night?” 

Rafe sauntered around the kitchen island, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made a shiver run down your spine. He knew he was handsome. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes that always had a raging storm behind them. His gold ring and his gold watch. Most important of all, he knew he intimidated you, his size being enough to make you feel smaller than you actually were. 

“I have to study,” You spoke curtly, trying to cut off the line of questioning you sensed was coming. You moved to keep cutting up your fruit but you paused again when Rafe reached out to grab a piece from the cutting board. You looked up at him as he popped the piece of strawberry into his mouth. 

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe’s lips pulled into a smirk, as if he was thriving on that power, the uncpoken tension in the air. The way he could make your heart race in that mix of fear and something else he knew you’d never admit. 

“Oh yeah?” Rafe placed a hand on the counter, “You have all weekend to study. C’mon, have some fun, princess.”

You took in a breath at the sound of the pet name. He hadn’t ever called you that before and for a moment it looked like he was seeing right through you. 

“I-” Quickly, you turned your head away, refocusing on the task, as your cheeks heated with embarrassment, “I’m okay, thanks.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to come out,” Rafe continued, his voice smooth, almost coaxing, “You got secret plans or something?”

“No,” You said quickly, “I told you, I’m studying.”

Rafe let out a dry chuckle, no real amusement behind it, “You sure you’re not just hiding?”

“It’s not your business,” You snapped finally, your tone icy, “And I… I don’t have to explain myself to you, Rafe. You don’t even know me.”

“I know you, princess,” You dropped the knife, your heart beating too fast, and you quickly picked up your pieces of fruit and placed them in your bowl. Rafe leaned closer, watching your every move, and the intensity of his gaze was starting to unravel you, “You’re so jumpy. It’s just me. No need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” You muttered but your fingers trembled as you grabbed ahold of your bowl of fresh fruit and your lamb cup. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rafe took another step closer and you backed away from the counter.

“Stop it,” Your frustration flared, unsure of why exactly Rafe was trying to stir you up. Your lips pressed together and you tried to stop your reaction, but with him towevering over you, invading your space, you felt effectively suffocated. It wasn’t until your back was pressed into the stainless steal fridge, your bowl the only thing protecting you from being pushed against Rafe, that you actually flinched. 

“Hey,” Rafe lifted on arm, casually bracing his hand on top of the fridge as he looked down at you, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard. His voice was deceptively gentle, “Rafe–”

“I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Something flickered in his eyes, something you didn’t recognize, and for a moment, you questioned if you’d read this entire situation correctly, “I know how fragile you are. How scary the world can seem. I’m offering …you know …because I’d be there to protect you. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You blinked up at him. Surprisingly, there wasn’t even a hint of him trying to talk down to you. Rafe Cameon almost sounded caring. “You don’t need to be so on guard all the time,” Rafe continued. 

“I just …” You couldn’t stop the way your voice softened, “I like keeping to myself. It’s not that I don’t want to be around people. I just don’t …fit in here.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding, and it was the first time you looked at one another as real people, “I get it. You’re not like the other girls around here. You’re smarter, quieter … softer. You can trust me though, yeah? You don’t gotta hide from me.”

For a moment, everything felt like it would be okay. Maybe Rafe had managed to see you and was willing to understand you, unlike anyone else you had met on this island. It all felt real until you focused more on his eyes. Your expression had softened, melted from frustration to wide-eyed curiosity, and that had caused a shift in his eyes. You saw that flicker of darkness that you’d seen before. 

“I can look after you, ya’ know?” He said, voice dripping to a lower tone, “Help you. You don’t need to worry too much.”

Before you could respond, his other arm lifted, and you felt his fingers graze your cheek, the touch startlingly intimate. 

“What are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Rafe’s jaw tightened, the mask he was wearing beginning to slip, “Don’t be like that, princess.” 

“Stop,” You managed to say, “Stay away from me.”

In just a few hours, you’d finally get to meet Mr. Hayes. None of Rafe’s games would matter then. When you went silent, you watched as Rafe’s hand balled into a fist and he turned his body away. 

“Suit yourself,” He’d said coldly, his void devoid of any of the warmth that was there before.  

You stared down at your bowl of fruit dumbfounded for a moment too long. Princess. How did Rafe know how desperately you wanted someone to call you that?

Rafe stayed at Kelce’s party until eleven He finished his last pabst blue ribbon, said goodbye to only a handful of his friends, before he made his way to his truck. Knowing they would find it strange for him to leave so early, he mad the excuse that he was going to meet up with a girl at the Island Club. 

In reality, Rafe was headed twenty minutes away, towards Winward Beach. Mr. Hayes wanted to meet you at midnight. One of the many red flags Rafe assumed you had ignored. You probably thought it was romantic, meeting at a secluded beach in the middle of the night. Like the two of you were fucking Romeo and Juliet. 

Stupid, Rafe thought bitterly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

Rafe parked his car in the small parking lot that sat near the boardwalk, turning off all of his lights, and waited for the creep to show up first. Rafe thought for a moment that neither of you might show when midnight started to approach. Maybe you’d wisened up, listened to your gut instinct that told you something wasn’t right. He didn’t believe it for long, you were too trusting. Too soft. 

When a tan sedan that Rafe didn’t recognize pulled up in a parking spot close to the walkway, Rafe knew who it was. In the dark and without any streetlights, he only saw a dark figure carrying a backpack make his way towards the beachwalk. He waited until the figure made it halfway before he climbed out of his truck. 

The moon was high, casting a white glow over the empty landscape. 

Anger simmered beneath Rafe’s skin as he watched the man from a safe distance. He moved with a nervous energy, often glancing over his shoulder as if he was expecting to see someone. Wooden planks creaked softly under his weight but Mr. Hayes didn’t notice, not until he’d made it to the beach, and Rafe appeared behind him. 

The man turned his head, eyes wide with confusion. For a moment, this was all a coincidence. Rafe was a nobody, just a stranger taking a walk on the beach, until Rafe’s lips pulled into a smile, “Not what you were expecting?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Hayes was certainly not what Rafe was expecting. A completely unremarkable middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his thinning brown hair, pale skin, lightly freckled and a slight paunch that rested over the waistband of his dreams. A complete creep. Someone completely undeserving of even being looked at by you. 

Anger wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Rafe was feeling, “You’re Mr. Hayes?”

“What?” Up close, Rafe could see the way the man's eyes started to dart around. He took another step further and the man stumbled back in the thick sand, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just–”

“You’re just a coward?” Rafe finished, his tone mocking, “I mean, I understand now why you hid your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

Rafe interrupted again, snarling, his hand lashing out to grab the front of the man’s shirt. He yanked him forward and the man’s eyes went wild with panic, “Meeting up with an innocent girl in the middle of the night? Sneaking around like a creep? What’s in that fucking bag?”

“Nothing!” Mr. Hayes struggled. Rafe couldn’t believe how weak the man was. Strong enough to overpower you, maybe, but weak. As soon as the though of this man pinning you down in the sand crossed his mind, Rafe’s eyes went wild, “Nothing, I’m sorry!”

Rafe shoved him hard and the man stumbled backwards into the sand. He towered over the man, his shadow casting long across the beach. Waves crashed loudly in the background but Rafe’s voice boomed over the sound, “I don’t think you are! You probably thought you could just take what you wanted, huh? Fucking answer me!”

The man scrambled backwards, hands digging into the sand, backward hanging awkwardly from his shoulder. Why didn’t he just drop it …if he wasn’t hiding anything, he would let it go, “I wasn’t — I didn’t mean, I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know what? That she was half your age? That she was too good for you?” Rafe’s lip curled in disgust. He knelt down, his face inches from Mr. Hayes’s as his voice dropped to a whisper, “She’s not yours. She never will be.”

“Okay,” He nodded, holding out a hand as if to put distance between them, “I just wanted to meet her. I know I lied. I’m sorry. I won’t …it won’t happen again. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at the trembling man. Without another word, he grabbed for the backpack. The man resisted, of course, a series of “Wait, wait, wait,” leaves his lips. Rafe doesn’t leave space to argue because he pushed his palm into the man’s chest, pinning him down, before he lets his fist connect with the side of the man’s face. 

The man gasps, whimpers, as he curls into a ball on the sand, “F-Fuck!” The creep moans. Rafe pulls away the bag, ripping open the zipper, and dumping the contents onto the sand.

A cheap blanket, a cheap bottle of wine, and then Rafe’s eye catches on the condoms and then then the thick, coiled string of rope. Without another thought, Rafe was tackling the man, grabbing a hold of his collar, pulling him up and slamming his head into the ground over and over again. Rafe didn’t stop. He slammed his fist into the man’s face harder and harder. Each blow left a sickening crack echoing in the air. 

Crack. Groan of pain. Crack. Whimper, “You though you could hurt her? Touch what’s not yours? Brutalize her?” Rafe snarled, voice low and vicious. When the man finally went unconscious, his body limp, face bloody and unrecognizable, “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s chest heaved as he stared down at his work. Nothing about the blood and broken flesh bothered him. He looked down at his hand which were covered in the man’s blood and only felt satisfied. 

He’d protected you. His pulse spiked even more as he heard footsteps on the boardwalk. You’d shown up. Rafe watched you kick off flip flops and run towards them. No matter how dark it was, you were easily visible in the baby pink dress you’d chosen. The contrast between you and the violent seen before you sente a surge of protectiveness through him. He stood from where he knelt in the sand and quickly crossed the distance towards you. 

You slowed as you took in the scene before you, “Rafe?” you whispered, “Rafe, what’s … that’s not …oh my god.”

Rafe grabbed you by your arms, turning your shaking body away. It was a gruesome mess, nothing you should have to see, “He’s dead,” You spoke with wide, terrified eyes, “Wh-Why? You killed him.”

“He’s not dead,” Rafe said quickly, “He’s still breathing … I had to stop him.”

You didn’t listen, you turned your head and saw the unnatural position the man laid in, “Rafe, he’s dead!”

Rafe shook you slightly, “He’s not. I promise.”

“What did you do?” You cried, tears beginning to stream down your cheek. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” He tried to assure you, “I had not. He was going to hurt you, Y/N. Look, he brought …he brought all that shit with him. There was rope in his bag, condoms … I did this for you!”

You shook your head, trying to pull away from Rafe’s bloody hands, “You beat him?” Your voice broke under the weight of your fear, “He’s not moving. You can’t …why would you–”

Rafe’s heart twisted in his chest. He wasn’t the one you were supposed to be afraid of, “He deserved it,” Rafe said, voice quiet and serious, “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

Rafe tried to pull you but you resisted. Easily, he lifted you into his arms, bloody hands staining your skin and now your dress, “We have to call someone!” You shouted at him, hiccuping through your tears, “Rafe, put me down!”

Rafe ignored you, strides long and steady, carrying you back towards the beachwalk. It was better for Mr. Hayes if the police weren’t involved. Undoubtely, a man like that had a record. Rafe was doing him a favor by only leaving him bloody on the beach. 

In his arms, you were powerless. Your mind was reeling. Even in his bloody state, you knew the man there was not who Mr. Hayes had described himself as. Rafe could be right about all of this but it still felt wrong. 

In Rafe’s truck, you sat curled up against the door, your knees pulled to your chest. A dark and empty road stretched before you, yacht rock played at a low volume in the background, and Rafe’s heavy breathing was louder than any of your thoughts. 

Every few minutes, you stole a glance at him. The tension had yet to leave his body, though he was coming down from the adrenaline. His breathing was heavy but deliberate, as if he was attempting to calm himself, “I didn’t want you to see that, you know that, right?” Rafe said suddenly, breaking through the heavy silence, “Like …I know that was fucked up. You believe me, right? About what I said?”

Your throat tightened so much that your words came out strangled, “I don’t know … what to believe.”

“He was going to hurt you. If I hadn’t stepped in — If I-I hadn’t acted proactively, he would’ve hurt you. He would be hurting you right now. You know that, right?” The brutality of Mr. Hayes’s alleged actions began to cloud Rafe’s actions. He said it over and over. You couldn’t help that now you were imagining it. Maybe this was the only way to rationalize the situation. Maybe you had to believe him.

You saw the items in the sand. You saw that he’d lied about his age, about his appearance, and his intentions. He was the monster. That was the better version. Everything was a lot less wrong that way. 

“Y/N,” Rafe spoke again, his deep voice rattling your ear drums, “You know that.”

You finally nodded, “Okay,” You agreed. 

“Good,” Rafe seemed to let out a breath of relief. Hands still tight on the steering wheel, he tilted his head back, “He wasn’t some innocent guy. I swear that to you. Like I wouldn’t lie about that shit.”

You nodded until your head started to hurt. 

“I did this for you,” Rafe said, “I��m so fucking glad you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” You whispered as you wiped the wetness from your cheeks. Your eyes caught on the dried blood that wrapped around in a band on your arm, “...Rafe?”

“Yeah, baby?” Rafe voice turned gentler as he glanced over at you.

“Did you …look at my messages?”

Rafe’s demeanor grew casual, like the worst of his anxieties had passed, “I did what I had to do,” He said, like it was a simple explanation. He didn’t seem concerned at his obvious breach of privacy. Didn’t seem to understand that the pit in your stomach was deepening. 

“Then you…”

“Then I know,” He finished and you watched a sinister smile pull at his lips, “Aren’t you relieved? I know and I’m not judging you. I’ve been wanting to figure you out since I met you. And now there’s no secrets between us.”

“Rafe…” You began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, “How could you?”

“I had to,” He insisted, “If I hadn’t, where would you be now? What if he had taken you? Killed you? What would that do to your mom?”

Your brows furrowed, trying to process his words, and the vile images that left in your mind, “The stuff on my phone is …private. It’s private for a reason. I don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” He countered, offering you a patronizing tone, “I know what you want, what you need. I’m happy to give you that. And I’d do a hell of better job than that waste of life on the beach.”

You connected the dots the moment those words left his lips. He wanted to be what Mr. Hayes had been to you. A caretaker. Someone to nurture your most innocent idea. 

“Rafe … Ward is married to my mom,” The most logical reason that was a crazy idea came to your mind quickly. 

“So?” He replied dismissevly. 

“You’re my stepbrother,” Not even that registered with him, “I don’t think …it’s not what I want.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Rafe reached across the console, gently but firmly grabbing ahold of your hand. You stared back at him with wide eyes, your fear obvious especially when he took his eyes off the road, “You’re confused. You were willing to trust a man on the internet when the perfect person to take care of you is right here with you. No one else. Me.”

Feeling trapped, your next thought became calming him down. For fear of him crashing the car or never loosening his grip, you forced your expression to soften, “I know you can protect me,” You nodded your head, “And thank you for that …I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was stupid. I’m …I’m glad you care about me like that.”

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, “Yeah?”

“It’s just a lot to take in. I had no idea …I just thought you were usually annoyed with me,” You said and rafe seemed to exhale, his shoulders loosening, “I trust you, it’s just a lot to process right now.”

“I get it,” Rafe let go of your hand, but gave you no time to feel relieved, because next he placed his strong, large hand on your thigh, “I think we’re good for each other. I just have to show you, Y/N.”

Tannyhill was empty except the two of you. Your heart raced as Rafe led you upstairs to your room, hand firmly on the small of your back. When the door to the bedroom softly clicked behind you, closing the two of you in, you felt like throwing up. 

You started to imagine Rafe wandering around, looking through all your things, all without your permission. He felt out of place there in your sanctuary but it was clear he’d made himself comfortable a long time a go. He led you over to the edge of your bed, and shakily, you sat down. He kneeled down in front of you, a position quite to vulnerable and intimate for you. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, voice deep in concerning. Lifting one of your heels from the ground, he looked closely at your legs, as if checking for an injury. 

You shook your head, know the most your body had been through tonight had been at his hands, “I’m okay,” You spoke, your voice small. 

Rafe looked up at you, “It’s okay if you’re not, yeah?” Rafe said, voice softening as his hand slid further up your leg. When you pulled your leg back, his grip remained firm, possessive, “Everyone’s gone. I’m asking you to lean on me, princess.”

With no hint of asking for permission, you stared back at your stepbrother. You couldn’t help but feel as if the timing of tonight had worked out eerily in his favor. Everyone in your family was gone for the night and there was no Mr. Hayes to text about your feelings. 

“I’m going to run the bath for you,” Rafe decided, lips parted as if he was deep in thought, “Yeah, stay right here.”

“I’m fine, I can do it–” You began as Rafe made his way towards your bathroom.

He held out a finger and you stopped your movements quickly, frozen by the intensity in his gaze, “Stay.” 

He didn’t have to raise his voice for you to feel the threat in his tone. Somehow, this version of him was scarier than the one that relentlessly struck a man until he was unrecognizable. 

The sound of running water filled the room. Closing your eyes, controlling your breathing, the sound brought you to your routine. That sound of running water was always soothing to you. It was usually how your mind was able to slip into that comforting place on the other side of your mind. Things were lighter there, a place where you had no cares at all, and you enjoyed the things that you’d normally be embarrassed by. You pressed your feet into your fuzzy white carpet, your favorite place to listen to music and do one of your coloring books. You were almost there, the water having tricked you into falling deeper, until you caught a glimpse of Rafe standing behind the door, washing blood away in the sink. 

You tightened your eyes even more, shaking your head. This was certainly not the time to let down your guard. 

He appeared moments later, drying his hands with one of your pink washcloths, “Come on, let’s get you ready,” He said, his head tilted towards the bathroom, his voice deceptively warm. 

Your feet betrayed you and you hesitantly crossed the room. Another door between you and your life before you knew Rafe felt this way. When it closed shut, you realized you’d sealed your fate. How could it be a mistake when this was the place in life where you felt safest? To accept something was wrong meant accepting that you had nowhere left to feel warm, innocent, or child-like. 

Fingers caressed your skin, lifting the hem of your dress, gently raising your arms, until you were standing in your underwear. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again and it didn’t register how badly your lips were trembling until Rafe’s thumb caressed your bottom lip, “You’re okay,” He assured you, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You’d wanted this desperately, for someone to see you and not want to run away. You wanted someone to take care of you, someone devoted to nurturing you. Your eyes locked on Rafe’s and you felt his palm against your bottom, fingers traveling beneath the fabric of your panties. You kept your head tilted up as he leaned down, pressing lips that were softer than could’ve ever imagined, against your neck. 

You melted against him. 

Vanilla and strawberry swirled in the air, strong but gentle hands caressed you, and your tears started to feel more like a release than a burden. He kissed the spot on your throat that had gone sore from all tears. 

“I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered and you felt it everywhere. 

After removing your bra and panties, he helped you into the bath. Quickly, the blood and tears seemed to leave your skin, as if you’d imagined them. He touched you in a way that more natural, human, than expected. With deliberate care, he moved his hands over you, an act that felt practiced. 

Everything dissolved there in the warm bath, the heaviness of the entire night. Bubbles clung to your skin, and your fingers moved lazily over the surface of the water. Rafe washing you, moving a soapy washcloth over your skin, should’ve felt strange but were left in that hazy place where things were simple. 

“This is how things are going to be,” You heard him say, “We’ll make it work, okay? You get to be yourself and I’m the one who takes care of you now. I’m your Daddy.”

You’d never said that word out loud. Daddy. It was a faraway concept, a dream …just like the cloud you were floating in right now. You hugged yourself, mind wandering to that soft bed with all of your plushies. 

“Say it, princess,” you turned your head to him, mouth parted, eyes curious. 

“Say what?” You asked in a whisper, an innocent haze in your eyes. 

He smiled. You had done something right. You gave him a soft smile too. He leaned closer, “Say ‘Daddy’,” He commanded softly, “Please, princess.”

Part of you hesitated, knowing you were giving away something precious. The other part wanted to please him, after all, he’d brought you this sense of peace. And maybe the sooner you made him happy, the sooner he’d tuck you into your warm bed, and let this long day finally end. 

“Daddy,” You tested out the word on your tongue and though it sounded fragile, his eyes seemed to light up, “...since you said please.”

Nothing could smoulder that spark of satisfaction in his eyes. The look made your heart flutter, a sharp contrast from before when it felt like exploding. 

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Your cheeks warmed and you turned your face to hide from him. You couldn’t take it when he looked at you like that. That look made it feel like everything was okay.

“I made a mistake,” Your voice came out in a whine. Rafe ran the warm cloth across your back, a reminder of that peaceful bubble he’d created around you. 

He shushed you, “You didn’t,” He assured you, “You’re a good person, a good girl. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

His words made you sink deeper. The soft strokes of the warm washcloth, the vanilla-scent against your skin, and the pressure against your most sensitive areas. You felt the tension in your body melt away further. 

Slowly, gripping your knees to your chest, you turned your face back towards him, “You can’t tell anybody, Rafe,” You whispered. 

“Never,” He said, leaning closer, “Pinky swear?”

Rafe reached his other hand toward you, his pinky finger extended in front of you, moving like he was carefully dismantling some fragile, like a bomb. You stared for a brief movement, surprised and warmed by the gesture. You had no idea Rafe was capable of being so gentle. You unwrapped yourself a little bit, bring your closest pinky towards his hand. Your smaller finger wrapped around his and you were tethered together. 

“There, I promise I won’t tell anyone, princess,” He looked at you deeply, “Okay?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, your hand falling gently back into the water,  “Let’s get you out of here before you wrinkle up,” He decided and you watched him cross the room to grab your towel hanging from the back of the bathroom door. He walked back with a quiet confidence and his grip was completely sure, deliberate, as he helped you from the tub, “I’ve got ya’.”

He’d wrapped one arm underneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees, lifting you gently. You imagined pressing yourself into him but a towel soon separated you. You shivered, and instinctually, you wanted to dry yourself but Rafe took responsibility of that as well. He was so close, so protective. It was awkward at first, being able to take care of that mundane task but not having to. You leaned into it, letting your body be soothed by the ritual. 

You kept sinking. 

“Arms up,” He’d said after bringing you back to your bedroom. He chose an oversized purple t-shirt, designed with small pictures of cartoon pandas. For your underwear, he chose a light blue pair decorated with rainbows. Your eyelids grew heavy and after your first yawn, Rafe lifted you onto the side of your bed, “There you go. All set.”

You crawled into your cocoon further, settling underneat your quilt. You watched Rafe as you settled there, as he moved across the room. Your sleepy eyes widened for a moment, realizing his shirt was gone and that he was fiddling with the zipper of his pants. 

It was a threshold you’d never expected to reach, with Rafe or anyone else. The lights flicked off and the bed dipped beside you, your nerves sparked. You grabbed ahold of your lamb stuffed animal, letting that bring you a familiar comfort. Rafe nestled closer to you, his body at ease, relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you. 

You did your best to do the same, trying to lean into that same vulnerability you felt when he was bathing you. Warm skin against yours, strong hands on your waist, warm breath against your ear, it was overwhelming, “I-Is this okay?” You asked, breaking the silence. 

Looking for reassurance, you turned your head until your noses were almost pressed together. 

“Yeah,” Rafe spoke low and smooth, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, nervously, “I’m okay.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to your forehead and you took a deep breath, letting the feeling sooth your anxiety, “I’ve got you,”  Rafe’s fingers ran down your arm then to your waist. He held you there, feeling your flesh there, squeezing, “Daddy’s got you, baby.”

He touched you in new ways, gripped you hard in some places and softer in others. The kiss on your forehead turned into a kiss on your nose and then he placed soft lips against your cheek, “Relax,” He whispered in your ear, “I know you’re sleepy. I’ll do all the work.”

In your state of mind, his words felt like a riddle. What did he mean? You knew you liked his touch and that you wanted to sleep. Rafe knew more than you, clearly, maybe that’s what makes him a good Daddy. You should trust him. 

You closed your eyes as you let him press his face into your neck. He kissed you there, finding the most sensitive spot on your skin, and it made your lips part in a soft moan, “Call me Daddy,” He spoke against your skin, “Please, baby? Just say it and I’ll make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” You whispered back hesitantly and Rafe groaned, “D-Daddy.”

“Fuck,” Rafe cursed, grabbing a handful of your bottom, “That’s exactly what I want from you.”

You felt hardness pressing against your upper thigh and you gripped your lamb tighter. You leaned into sleep, letting Rafe move your body as he pleased, only moving your lips to whisper, “Daddy” in Rafe’s ear. He seemed please and you felt a warmness in your center that you wanted more of. 

Soon he was on top of you, your legs spread as he sat in between them. He rubbed you there. His rhythm was perfect, his accuracy impeccable, so much that you didn’t have to even move your hips to get the friction you needed. You panted and when you reached your peak, Rafe swallowed your moans, putting his mouth on your lips. 

It didn’t fully register to you when Rafe pushed your underwear aside and started to push inside of you. He was so gentle and you were so tired. He pulled your arms to the side, pressing his front against you, but you kept one hand wrapped around the arm of your stuffed animal, “Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy”

You winced when you felt all of him, and instinctively, you pushed at his heavy arms, “You’re okay,” He said, and his voice was louder to you than his heavy breathing or the sound of his skin hitting against yours, “You’re doing so good. Daddy’s almost done. You’re gonna make me cum so fast, Y/N. Shit.”

The satisfaction and pride in his words brought almost enough warmth to mask the pain of being stretched by him. You slowly grew used to the feeling but the feeling was so intense and you had so little energy to withstand it, to take all of him. 

“Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

His thrust slowed but his weight kept you pinned there. He grabbed ahold of your chin and you blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. His mouth was parted, his eyes holding a darkness that you thought had gone away, “Jesus, baby.”

As he shifted to his side, all you could muster was to turn away, pulling your lamb close to your chest and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. Rafe nestled against you once more, his hands gripping your hips until your bottom was pressed firmly against him. You felt the warmth of his lips against your hair, and then his sleepy voice whispered, “Sweet dreams, princess.”

Reblog and comment if you enjoyed, would love to know your thoughts!!

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

twin sized mattress (rafe cameron)

summary: What happens when one moment you’re coming home to change for a secret date, and the next you’re being dragged away to a "wilderness therapy camp" with no warning, no goodbye.

Kitty Hawk isn’t a camp. It’s a prison disguised as a lesson, a place designed to break people like me. No contact. No escape. Just rules, isolation, and the constant reminder that this is my fault.

I don’t know how long it’s been since I last saw Rafe Cameron. Maybe he moved on. Maybe he doesn’t even know I’m gone.

But if he does? If he finds out where they sent me? Then I don’t know who should be more afraid—me… or the people keeping me here. based on this request

word count: 6590

trigger warnings: forced disciplinary camp, isolation, emotional manipulation, toxic positivity, gaslighting, coercion, PTSD-like symptoms, mentions of forced labor, exhaustion, restricted food, physical abuse (in the altercations with the security team)

A/N: i take this topic so seriously because I know that even though Kitty Hawk is a fictional location, there are real camps out here that are doing this. there's a few real impactful documentaries on netflix (among so many others) that talk through the horrors of these programs. Please take care of yourself in reading this - I'm really proud of it but it is a much heavier topic.

I never thought my parents would do it. Truly. I mean, of course I thought it was possible. Hell, they’d threatened it the entirety of freshman year. That was the year John B’s dad disappeared, the year that Kie went off to Kook Academy. It was a rough year for all of us. So sure, they’d threaten the idea if I kept hanging out with ‘that Maybank kid’, if I kept up my ‘attitude’ or my ‘late night sexcapades’ as my mother called them.

I could still see her face, just last weekend in the kitchen pouring another cup of coffee. The night before, we’d been out at the Boneyard having a few beers. I could still see the pinch in between her brow, could still see the tremble in her upper lip as she scolded me. “Keep this up, see what happens. I swear, if I wake up one more time in the middle of the night to find that you are still not home…if I find out you were partying with those criminals - you are done, do you hear me?” 

We’d always landed somewhere between Pogues and Kooks, having moved here after my dad took a job in the Coast Guard but living on The Cut to save on moving costs. I’d always found myself at peace with the Pogues, surfing during the summer days and boating in the evenings. It was always lighthearted. Work hard, play harder. I should’ve known it would bite me in the ass someday. 

Dripping from the rain and in desperate need of a change of clothes before heading out, I didn’t even have a chance to tug my key from my pocket when the door swung open wide. 

A strange man stood in the doorway, staring down at me menacingly. I raise a brow, try to peer around the behemoth of the man. “Am I at the wrong house?” I mumble, backing up a little bit to get my bearings. My back slams into something dense and I turn, noticing another man with his arms crossed. “What the–,” my heart drops to my ass and bile rises in my throat. 

It’s a blur after that of hands on skin, flip flops displaced on the wet grass, of screaming and promises and begging. Bruises form from kicking against the car door, from punching against the glass. I get a glimpse of my mother sobbing on the porch as I’m driven away in a black SUV, my father wiping his mouth. 

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I have just enough time to stare down at the incoming text message.  I just parked, let me know when you get here?

I try to quickly press out a response, send an SOS but I’m not quick enough. The man sitting to my left snatches it from my grasp and all hope of escape, of stopping the nightmare of some therapeutic wilderness camp for troubled teenage girls. 

______

It feels like too much time passes in the dark of the woods by the time I see the sign, illuminated by solar lighting on the side of the road. Kitty Hawk. The hellscape that Kie’s parents had threatened a few months back. At least Mike and Anna had come to their senses that listening to your child had been the solution to their rebellion instead of a traumatic kidnapping and manual labour. How peachy. 

Bigfoot pushes me from the slick leather and out of the car, wrapping a stiff hand around my bicep and all but drags me up the dirt path to a cabin at the top of the hill in the center of the facility. It’s dark; rows of evergreen cabins line the paths through the trees. It’s too quiet, the only sound coming from any direction were crickets and a quiet echo of shouting. Creepy.

Inside the main office, a woman with a toothy tight smile and tired eyes tells me that this is a chance at redemption. “This is a chance to right your wrongs, to really make something of yourself.”

“I’ll pass,” I tell her, nodding absentmindedly at the cat bobble head that sways on her desk. “I should really be getting home…I’ve got a date.” 

“You do…with your future.” She covers it with her hand, forcing me to look up at her. Her smile tightens, stretching too far. “And I have high hopes for you,” she says. 

“No, like an actual date, it’s important,” I say, blinking a little and frowning. I think of him, sitting out on the beach waiting for my text message. He’s probably looking out at the ocean, watching the storming waves and wondering if I’m blowing him off, if I’ve finally called off whatever it is that we had before things could get serious; before we told anyone anything. Probably wondering if I was coming to my senses. What Pogue would ever want to get into a serious relationship with the Kook Prince anyway? 

“Sweetheart, we need you to work with us here. Alright? We can work together to make things better, okay? Can you trust us?” the woman says, leaning forward like we’re friends. 

I stare at her for a moment, disturbed by the optimism. “I need to atleast make a phone call.” 

She shakes her head, waving to the goof in the corner standing at the ready. “Patients cannot use their phones or have contact with anyone for the first six weeks of the program-,” she continues to rattle off a series of rules. They go in one ear and out the other.

And when Sasquatch finally comes in to drag me off to a cabin, all I want is Rafe’s hands on me instead. And when I lay on the thin mattress on the bottom bunk in the overcrowded girls’ cabin with springs digging into my back, I try to imagine the soft sand underneath me and the scratchings on the plank of wood above the stars. I try not to think about how heartbroken he must be, not knowing that I’d been sent away.

____

Days pass in a daze of survival; of medication trials, gaslighting unqualified therapy and lots of splinters. Between group sessions of talking through our wrongdoings and ruthless workouts to ‘sweat out our sins’, the counselors are convinced that becoming lumberjacks will cure us of whatever illness has caused our disobedience. My hands quickly become calloused from the endless hours of splitting wood with an old axe, my shoulders sore from carrying logs to and from one site to another. There’s no real structure, just ragged breathing and murmurs of toxic positivity quotes that hard work builds character. 

No one talks about the horrors of being taken from their homes and families, of the depression that causes them to act out. I watch a girl, maybe a year younger than me, sway on her feet. She’s holding an axe that’s longer than her arm and I worry she’ll hurt herself. I step forward to steady her, slip the axe from her loose grip. 

Betsy Sue or whatever the fuck her name is steps back with a wide gaze. 

Big Boss Man appears almost out of nowhere and rips the axe from my grasp. He tucks my arm behind my back, like I’m a threat to his stature. 

“Threatening a counselor in your first week,” Betsy Sue says, shaking her head and scribbling something on her stupid clipboard. “That’s two weeks in the Reflection Cabin for you. I hope you’ll take that time to really think about how you want your experience here to go,” she says through clenched teeth. 

“No, no - I wasn’t even threatening you-, no, get off,” I try to shove their hands away like a scared cat. “She was going to pass out, you barely feed us-,” I grunt as I’m shuffled through the woods, kicking and screaming. They close me inside the dim cabin, leaving me to the dust glinting through slips of light from under the sealed windows. They’re cracked open just about two inches, allowing the cool breeze to seep into the room like a crushed straw. I notice the lack of sheets on the thinner mattress and the state of the dirty toilet. Fuck.

—

It's been days since he’s heard from you. Rafe Cameron wasn’t someone who normally got left on read and yet that alone didn’t even cause him to stop thinking about you. He didn’t know how it happened but he knew that your laugh is infectious. He had never pictured himself settling down and yet, he had thought about what size your ring finger was. 

You’d been around Sarah ever since Ward’s death…the first time. One of the annoying Pogues who’d been treasure hunting around Kildare like you were Jack Sparrow and yet, he couldn’t help but search for your face in a crowd. And one late night, long after he and Sarah had agreed to be in each other’s lives, he found you staring up at the stars on the patio. The rest of the Pogues were passed out throughout Tannyhill from a night of partying but you? You were curled up on a covered wicked chair, hair twisted into two lazy braids and hand deep into a bag of cheese puffs.

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” he grunts, looking at the mess your friends had left. 

You just crunched away, unbothered by his tone as your dirty orange fingers pointed up at the sky. “Meteor shower.” You held out the bag for him, “Wanna watch?” 

Rafe didn’t know what he was doing when he settled down below the wicker chair, shoulder bumping yours as he stared at your dirty fingers holding the big bag. “Those are disgusting,” he mumbles, staring at your profile and the way your lips curled up. 

“And?” you said, turning to look at him with a raised brow. 

He felt like he could kiss the smirk off of your face. So he tried. And you tasted like artificial cheese and malibu. He swore he fell in love. And then you stood him up, there on the beach a few nights ago. And then he noticed that you hadn’t been around the house with his sister either, nor at the farmer’s market with Kie and Cleo, not even at the marina with the boys. 

Were you avoiding him? What the hell had he done to deserve the silent treatment and a no show. It wasn’t like he could just straight up ask Sarah where you were hiding. You’d never really gotten to the point of making it official, of sharing with your friends that you’d done the unspeakable. You’d gotten involved with Sarah’s recovering assaholic of a brother. 

It’s not until a few days of stewing later that he decides he can’t take it anymore, that he can’t move on until he’s seen you. That what you guys had felt too real for him to just shrug it off. When he walks into the kitchen though, he’s not expecting the whole clan to be there again. But he counts only six and deflats until he hears their conversation. 

“They said she went on a trip to go visit family out of state,” Pope shares, leaning down and shaking his head. 

“There’s no way she would’ve left without telling someone something,” Sarah shakes her head, leaning on John B. “It’s just not her.”

“You don’t think they could’ve—,” JJ drags a finger across his throat and gets a few groans, a pinch from Kie. 

“JJ, not funny. No, the only thing that they’ve ever threatened her with is–,” Kie looks up at the sound of Rafe’s footsteps, catches his curiosity. “Rafe? What are you doing here?”

“Where is she?” he asks, crossing his arms. Sarah notices the strain of emotion settling into his jaw, his hands tucked into themselves to stop from shaking. She tilts her head in realization, she’s always been too perceptive. 

“We don’t know,” she says. “But from the way you’re shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you have something you’d like to share with the class.” 

Rafe huffs out a sarcastic noise, somewhere between an amused snort and an annoyed laugh. “Cute, real cute. Your little friend was supposed to meet me out on the beach the night of the storm. Never showed. So, because she won’t answer my calls or texts – you can tell her that she can come out of hiding now and tell me to fuck off like an adult.” 

“The night of the–oh my god,” Kie covers her mouth. “Dude, her parents pulled the trigger.” 

“I knew it,” JJ shouts, slapping the countertop in confirmation but Kie shuts him down. 

“No, listen, her parents told her two weeks ago that one more late night and they were sending her away to Kitty Hawk. That’s the day that we were stranded on Figure 8 because someone-,” she looks at JJ, “forgot to put enough gas in the Snapper.” 

Rafe stiffens, guilt washing through him for thinking that you would’ve walked away without a single word. He’s reminded of the soft commentary woven into your conversations; that your parents were absent, harsh.

“You really think her parents would send her away?” John B asks.

“Yes, 100%. My parents got the name of the place from her mom. They’ve been threatening it for a while now. We just laughed it off…” 

“Lets go get her,” Rafe blurts out. The whole group turns in confusion at his outburst, watching as he grabs his wallet and keys from the bowl on the counter. He looks like a man on a mission and they freeze. When he realizes no one is moving, he glares. “What are you all looking at me like that for? Do you want to go rescue your friend or not?” 

They share a look, a six way silent debate and decide that no matter how strange it is – having Rafe Cameron on your team was better than against.

—

I don’t know how much time passes, unable to tell the difference between sunshine through the dirty windows and the beaming lights spotlighting movement through the facilities. I start to get restless after a day of reflection, pacing up and down the rows of empty bunks and reciting all the joyful things waiting for me outside the doors of the cabin, outside the walls of the camp. 

Two days later, one of the fake therapists comes in with another stupid clipboard to chat through my diagnosis. She gives me some mumbo jumbo about defiance and attention-something or other. I’m too distracted by counting the steps it takes to make it around her and through the door. How quickly could I run to the gate and get to the main road…could I flag someone down in time?

I wonder if anyone even realizes I’m gone. Do the Pogues think I’ve just left without a word? Does Rafe? Are they looking for me?  

She asks me a question, calls my name. 

I run for it. I should’ve tightened my shoelaces. 

Stumbling over myself, losing the momentum of surprise, Jack and the Beanstalk easily grasp onto both my arms and shove me back into the cabin. I struggle in their painful grips, swinging wildly to see if I can break free. It’s futile and eventually Beanstock just tosses me harshly to the ground. I lay there longer than expected, stomach aching from my one meal a day. My arms start to bruise from the handling and a hopelessness washes over me. 

“I was really hoping you would’ve made some progress but it looks like you’re still unwilling to let us help you,” the woman clicks her pen and tucks her clipboard snug under her arm. “We’ll try again next week, hmm?” She turns to leave, taking the big brutes with her.

I scramble to my feet, desperate to stop the door from closing. The light is snuffed from the room, the heavy sound of a padlock grinds against the wood and I’m alone again. “No, no, please,” I shout, slamming against the sturdy framework. 

I didn't get a meal for a long time after that. I notice a subtle shift in lighting outside and if I squat near the two inch opening, I hear a buzzing noise that almost seems like a shift in setting. I scratch a notch in the wood of a bunk post when I hear it. The bologna and melted cheese sandwich is not nearly enough to make my stomach stop hurting and my throat is too raw from screaming to be able to enjoy the meal. 

—

The drive to Kitty Hawk is tense and quiet, Rafe’s knuckles turning white at the thought of you being forced from your home. Kie had filled him in on all she’d heard about the program, the mocking website with the sense of community and enthusiasm for growth. It made his stomach churn. 

He checks the rearview mirror, ensuring your loyal and idiotic friends are still behind him in the Twinkie. Sarah watches the stiffness in her brother’s movements, the tension in his limbs. She ponders a little, feeling bold with just the two of them in the car. “So,” she takes a sip of water, “how long have you guys been seeing each other?” 

Rafe’s head snaps toward her, eyes flickering back to the road as he tries to collect himself. “Seeing who?” 

“Rafe, I’m your sister. We may have been at odds for a long time but I know when you’re tucking something away because you don’t want someone to see you vulnerable,” Sarah says. When he says nothing in response, she smirks a little, looks out the window. 

“It’s been a few months,” he says, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth. He taps his fist against the steering wheel, frustrated with his honesty. Rafe feels like he’s betraying your trust a little, sharing a secret you both hadn’t agreed to share. “We weren’t official…not yet anyways.” 

“But you lo-,” she stops herself, not wanting to scare him off, “you care about her.”

Rafe gives her the side eye, noticing the signage up ahead for the damn camp. “I love her,” he admits, turning into the place. He watches as the twinkie rolls off to the side, leaving just the two of them puttering down the dirt road. He stops for a second, foot hitting the break impulsively. He’d just gotten his sister back in his life, finally getting on good terms with her. Rafe couldn’t lose another person. Not with all that he’d done to make amends. “Are you…are you like, mad?” 

Sarah looks at him with a softness that he still wasn’t used to. He didn’t know where she’d inherited such a look, not having been raised with it himself. “Rafe, she’s been lighter and brighter in the last few months than I’ve ever seen her. I’m going to make the assumption that you have a lot to do with that.”

“Really?” He can’t help the smile that stretches across his face, the burning in his cheeks at the admission. 

“Yes, really,” Sarah laughs, amused at the site of him being bashful. “And you’ve become way less snappy and more tolerable, so I’m happy as long as you’re both happy.” She covers his hand with hers, smiling “Let's go get our girl.”

He nods, squeezing her hand and starting to drive up to the men walking around in front of the gate ahead. 

“So like…do you…have a plan?” Sarah asks, tensing as they wave them to a stop. 

“We’re going to buy the camp,” he says, rolling down the window and looking over at her. He looks over the stern man, feeling a subtle rage underneath the surface of his skin. But Rafe is Ward Cameron’s son after all and he knows how to manipulate his way through a deal. He’s made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t be that person anymore, wouldn’t become his dad. But sometimes, the toolbox comes in handy for the greater good. 

“This is private property,” the man grunts, nodding to the road. “You’ll have to turn around.” 

“We’re here to meet with the director of the camp about an investment deal,” Rafe says, oozing with an authority that Sarah hasn’t witnessed in quite some time. It sends a wave of discomfort over her but she stays quiet, letting him work. “Elliot Calloway?”

“Investment deal? You?” the man says, raising a brow and looking back at the other security. 

“Yeah,” Rafe pulls his business card from his visor, flashing it at the guy without care. “My family is pretty big in the development?”

“Mr. Cameron, give me just a moment,” the man’s tone changes, stepping away to radio someone. He comes back after a few minutes, nodding to the gate. “Central building just beyond the parking lot with the buses. Mr. Calloway will meet you there.” 

—

I sit against the wall under the windowsill, staring absentmindedly at the door frame. I try to listen for the hum of the lights switching, swaying absentmindedly to a tune stuck in my head. My head lifts at a voice dancing through the wind outside. It’s a newer voice, unique from the roulette of voices that I’d gotten used to in the time since arriving at camp. 

The first thought that runs through my head is that the new voice is Rafe. The thought that follows is that I have gone crazy. The voice is gone before I can even stand and try to peer out the window. It would be a waste because I was certain at this point that I was forgotten about, that no one was coming to save me. This was my new reality.

My delusions prove correct because the voice doesn’t come back, doesn’t drift through the window as time passes. What does come back is the hum buzzes and another sandwich – just cheese this time – is slid through the door. The cabin gets chilly as I deconstruct my sandwich on my lap, ripping parts of the bread away and eating slowly to pass the time. 

There’s a commotion outside the door and I glance up from the slice of American cheese when I hear the padlock click open, hear the hinges squeal. There’s a stream of light that hurts my eyes as the door is pushed open but it's gone as quick as it came. My shoulders tense as a figure ducks a little, coming closer in the dark of the cabin. I stay pressed against the wall, deciding that a splinter from the unfinished framing is better than whatever the security guard is up to. 

“Please, I promise not to try to escape,”  I whimper, scrunching my eyes shut in hopes that this is all just a terrible nightmare. 

“Well, that’s a waste I guess.” 

I blink, eyes straining in the dark to look for a sign that I’ve officially lost my mind, that I’ve started to hallucinate in the solitude of isolation. He’s kneeling down a few steps back, dressed in the classic black uniform of a guard. “Rafe?” My throat tightens, the dam breaking as all the feeling rushes back through me. 

“You didn’t think I’d let it slide that you missed our date, did you?” he murmurs, crawling forward to wrap his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. 

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out, tensing against him. I melt into his warm, finally feeling protected in his caring embrace. He smells like the beach and feels like home. 

Rafe’s hands slide under me as he tugs me forward, pulling me into his lap. I can’t stop the sobs that wrack through me, trying to cover my mouth so that no one will hear how loud I am. It’s scary how much I had convinced myself that I could survive without  softness, without being held in a way that wasn’t aggressive, and wasn't forceful. 

“How many days has it been?” I sniffle a little, shaking. 

Rafe reaches up to wipe away the tears, cradling my cheek as he searches my face. It’s easy to recognize the frustration in his brow, the tension in his jaw. “It’s been a week but we’re breaking you out of here, okay?” He rises to his feet, picking me up with ease. He takes my hand and guides me to the doorway. 

My stomach churns, heart racing as I suck in a breath. Something deep inside panics and I tug at his arm, hesitating in the middle of the cabin. “Wait, wait,” I whisper, staring at him wide-eyed. 

Rafe looks back at me, tugging a little on my hand. “Doll, c’mon, we don’t have much time.” 

The way he tugs at my hand causes my throat to tighten again and I pull back, like his touch burns my flesh. I hold my hand against my chest, curling into myself. “Rafe…I don’t…” I start to say, losing my breath. “I don’t…what if they–”

“Shhh, shhh, hey–hey,” Rafe steps back cautiously back into my personal space, hands up as if he’s trying to show me he means no harm. His blue eyes are flecked with worry as he takes in my state. “What did they do to you?” 

I don’t know how to respond, the nightmare of the apparent week since I’d last seen him dying on my tongue. I open my mouth but nothing escapes me. I look down, feeling so unlike myself.

Rafe steps closer, slowly moving his hands to hold my face again so he can stare down at me. His thumbs smooth over the apples of my cheeks, his skin cool. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here but I promise you, no one comes near you again – okay?” 

“Okay,” I whisper, looking up at him. 

Rafe nods, gives me a little smile and checks his watch. He looks to the door and starts to move with a little more intention. He can peel the black hoodie from his slender torso, checking his watch one more time. “You trust me?” 

I nod without hesitation. “More than anything.” 

He steps forward, pulling the hoodie over my head to cover the stupid Kitty Hawk uniform from view. It’s dark only for a moment before I’m staring up at his face again. I’m swimming in cotton, the clothing big enough that it covers my shorts. Rafe takes care as he brushes his hands along my neckline, freeing my hair from the collar. “Alright, here’s the plan. We’re going to head into the woods down by the water…it seems like no one really goes down there. We’re not gonna run, that’s going to draw attention to us,” he rushes to explain.

I can’t help myself, rising up on my tippy toes and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for coming to get me,” I whisper, fingers poking out to clutch at his shirt. Before he can respond, before he can react - there’s a loud burst of noise outside in the distance. I gasp out as we’re suddenly engulfed in darkness. “Rafe?”

“That’s our cue,” he says, sliding the hoodie over my head and lacing our hands together. “Once we get outside – don’t stop moving, okay? Head down and don’t let go of my hand, alright?” I nod, trying to ignore the thoughts racing through my mind and how hard my heart beats in my chest. 

Rafe turns to the door and squeezes my hand tightly before pulling it open. It’s pitch black outside but I can hear loud shouting. “Tug that door shut, okay?” he says. 

I pull the handle to shut the door behind us as we take off down the creaky stairs, trying to take slow breaths as I keep my eyes on the ratty sneakers I’ve been issued. Rafe’s grip is firm as he leads me quickly along winding paths and between cabins as if he grew up at the camp. I can almost see the opening in the trees that leads down to the water when he pushes me hastily behind a cabin. 

“What tha’ hell is goin’ on?” he shouts to someone, his voice disguised with a deep drawl.

I worry that they’ll notice he’s not one of them but my shoulders relax a little when whoever he’s talking to sounds like they haven’t stopped moving. “I think a transformer blew, the generator’s old.”

“Where you need me?” Rafe responds, stepping a little out of my view and I have to press against the cabin to stop myself from following him.

“Get the mouthy one from isolation, bring her for count in the mess hall,” the man responds, his voice further away as he leaves the conversation. I taste bile in my throat at his words, breath hitching as Rafe’s ‘assignment’ to get me. There’s a ringing in my ear and I sway, dizzy with fear. I jump a little when his fingertips brush my wrists. 

“Hey, hey, you still with me?” he bends a little so he’s eye level. His voice is soft. “What did I promise you?”

“No…” I swallow. “No one will come near me again.” 

“No one will come near you again,” he repeats, nodding in agreement. “You ready, brave girl?” I nod, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he pulls me back onto the path and we move at an intentional pace toward the treeline. I can see more flashlights, zipping across the area as we step out of the view of the cabins. I stumble a little, tripping on roots as we move closer and closer to the water. The rough and rocky path turns soft, making it hard to keep a quick pace. 

“Rafe, how are we going to get back home? The water is the opposite direction from the main–,” my mouth falls open, seeing the outline of a few small boats beached ashore. 

Rafe turns to me once we are at the shoreline, winking. His hands smooth over my waist to pick me up and into the boat. “Duck down, okay?” 

I slide down against the seat, trying to steady my breathing as he pushes the boat slowly back into the water and jumping in once we’re floating far enough in the middle of the water. I watch the way he reaches down and tugs on the pull-start with purpose. Panic settles in my bones when nothing happens. 

“C’mon,” he says, tugging again. He tries again. Nothing. “Son of a bitch.” 

“Hey, what are you doing?” someone shouts from the beach. Flashlights shining over Rafe and along the boat, shouting as Rafe tries again to start the dinghy. I notice the split second of fear on his face as he struggles to tug the pull-start one more time. Coming back to myself, I stand up and shuffle to his side.

His hands are shaking as he frantically tries to start the boat. “Hey, get back here,” a man shouts, water splashing as they rush into the water to catch up. 

“Let go,” I mutter, pushing his hands out of the way to grab the handle. I give it one swift tug and breathe out in relief when the engine roars to life. Rafe grabs the helm and quickly steers up away from the man, causing him to stumble into the water behind us. As the camp and the security disappear the further we get, the more weight lifted from my shoulder. 

I tuck my face in my hands, feeling shocked that Rafe actually just pulled a near prison break to come get me. My chest rises and falls as I wipe away my tears.

“Hey, are you alright?” Rafe says, fingers stretching over my thigh. 

I can’t respond, hearing a low whistling noise over by the shoreline. My shoulders tense until I see six idiots, jumping and waving in front of the Twinkie and Rafe’s truck pulled over on the side of the road. A laugh escapes me as the boys jump onto the weeds, helping Rafe pull us ashore. JJ ushers me out of the boat and the girls all engulf me in a hug, echoing their relief that we’re safe, that I’m safe. 

I turn around, seeing Rafe biting at his thumb as he speaks with John B in hushed tones. He turns back to us, catches my eye.

“Hey, we should get the move on…that security could be sending someone along the water to find you,” Pope interrupts, pointing toward the road that leads back to the camp. 

“I feel awful leaving everyone else behind,” I admit, still staring at Rafe. “We should call someone.”

“Don’t worry,” JJ says, climbing into the Twinkie, nodding to Rafe. “Your boyfriend has that covered…its a…it’s a good plan – even I can admit.” 

I turn to look at Rafe, feeling the heat rush to my face at the word boyfriend. He just smirks, nodding to the truck. “C’mon, I’ll explain on the way.” I look at Sarah, sitting in the passenger seat in the Twinkie. She scrunches her nose, a wide smile on her face. 

“Go,” she says, “we’ll catch up to you.” 

I turn to his truck where he’s waiting for me with the door open. He helps me up into the seat, standing there as I tug the seatbelt down to buckle in. I’m hyper aware of his frame, so close to me. “Rafe,” I call out his name, pulling him from what looks like a trance. He blinks, big blue eyes looking up at me in a way I hadn’t seen before – in a way that up until a week ago, would’ve scared me. 

He nods, swallowing and closing the door so that he can run around to the driver’s side. He takes off down the road, not even wasting time in pulling his seatbelt on. 

“Seatbelt,” I murmur as we peel off onto the main road. When he doesn’t respond, I say it again a little louder. 

Rafe gives me a look, huffs and begrudgingly yanks it down with one hand. I reach over the bench, taking it from him and pulling it the rest of the way to clip into place. “What a waste this romantic rescue mission would be if you ended up through the windshield in the getaway?” I say, smiling a little as I settle back into the leather seat. 

“It was pretty romantic, huh? Who would’ve thought – me, a romantic,” he says. The tension seems to dissipate a bit, the safety of his truck a veil of relief. Inside, we’re just…us. But things feel different from the last time he’d drive me around, taking me for a late night rendezvous to the beach. Now, he’s the guy that ran toward danger to save me. He’s the guy who set a plan in motion to break me out of an at-risk youth facility. 

“I did,” I whisper, looking forward as the words strip me vulnerable. “So, what’s this good plan you’ve come up with?” 

“I tried to buy the camp,” he says, causing me to look over at him in shock. 

“What?” 

Rafe looks over at me, grinning. “You heard me.” 

“You were going to buy my way out?”

“Hey, contrary to popular belief, I do try these days to go the legal route first,” Rafe says, holding his hand up. “But the director was taking too long to agree to the deal so we hitched this plan to break you out as a backup.” 

“So he didn’t take the deal,” I say, turning to look at him. “How much did you offer?”

“Oh no, he took the deal. I gave him a good faith deposit of 250K in a briefcase. The sleazy bastard nearly fainted. I told him I’d–,” 

“Rafe,” I hold a hand up, speechless. “A briefcase?”

He glances over at me and keeps going, not phased by my surprise. “Yeah, I said I’d wire the rest of the money over but it’d take a day or so to confirm with the bank but we could make a gentlemen’s agreement. And in the process, he disclosed all the legal troubles he’s been riddled with in the process of closing the deal. Which was bold considering I,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls a tape recorder out with a grin, “Got this from my dad’s office before we left.” 

He clicks the play button and we listen as the man discloses a few lawsuits and unpaid debts he has lingering, how much of a relief it will be to get the place off his plate. My mouth falls open as Rafe stops the tape, placing it in the console. “So we are,” he glances over at me, triumphantly, “are heading to the air strip to meet Shoupe and give him this evidence. And while Shoupe works with the SBI to dismantle Kitty Hawk, we’ll be under witness protection until the trial…but you wouldn’t have to testify unless you wanted to. I made sure that Shoupe knew that.” 

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. “Witness protection? Where?” 

“Wherever you desire,” he looks over with a cute smile, scrunching his nose. “Sarah’s already made the call. Pilot will be waiting for us on the runway. Shoupe won’t tell your parents until we’re situated.” 

I’m at a loss for words as I try to take in what he tells me. He glances over at me, face falling a little. 

“You…situated,” I stutter out, breathless. I try to process his words, process what he’s done. My pulse races. “Pull over,” I blurt out weakly, palms sweaty as I glance behind us and notice the empty stretch of dark road.

“Are you alright?” he repeats, looking repeatedly between me and the road. 

I click the button to release my seatbelt as Rafe turns the wheel in a haste. “Are you sick?” I don’t answer him, reaching up a hand as we pull onto the shoulder. Dust kicks up around the truck as he pushes the stick into park, watching me wide-eyed. “What the hell is hap–,”

I tug his face toward mine, pressing my mouth to his with a fierceness that I’d never felt before. It’s quick and I pull back, breathless as I search his face. It felt like my nerves were on fire as we kissed, fanning an ember into a flame of desire. 

Rafe’s pupils are blown as he reaches forward and yanks me firmly back toward him. We lock lips. It’s messy and rushed and passionate. His hands find my thighs, scooping me up so I’m flush against him. 

There’s a searing heat and for the first time, it’s clear that it’s not just sexual tension. It’s survival. It’s praise and gratitude. It’s a confirmation that I’m real, and a guarantee of more. We jump a little, pulling apart when the truck horn blares out in the dead of the night – prompted by my ass.

It causes me to giggle, nuzzling into his neck with a snort while sliding from his lap to sit beside him. Rafe combs his fingers through my hair, unable to control his own laughter. I snort again, leaning into his bicep and looking up at him with a loving gaze. “Was it your idea to blow up a transformer?” 

“Well that was really Maybank’s idea…but it did the trick,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead and putting the truck back into drive before taking my hand. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

well, i'm in love. if you would like to make a request, i write for all the main characters of obx and you can send them here or let me know what you thought of this story :)

[scalpho]

fantasy high pcs ranked by how willing i would be to get in a car with them in the driver's seat

gorgug. the canon designated driver. his van is a boat and his boat is a van. no issues here

riz. also has canonically driven and done it well. good reflexes and sufficiently paranoid. i trust him

adaine. she'd figure it out and drive carefully enough. once again no issues here

INSERT INCREDIBLY LARGE GAP HERE

kristen applebees. drives wearing flip flops. would smash the entire front of the car just trying to get out of the driveway. accidentally hits the accelerator when she means to hit the brakes. i'm 100% going to die

fabian. he cannot drive and has zero road sense. the hangman does it all for him. he's below kristen because if we get into a terrible accident kristen can revivify me. fabian would backflip out of the car as it's crashing and leave me for dead

fig. FLIPPED A CAR. i mean she's 100% a better driver than both kristen and fabian but i wouldn't be able to get over the fact that she FLIPPED A CAR ON THE HIGHWAY

[rainrot4me]

“I absolutely love the way you write Jeff — it’s exactly how I imagine him behaving and existing in the world! You capture him so well! 🖤

That said, I’ve been dying to ask: how do you think he’d react if the MC wore red? Like, deep blood-red clothes or accessories — would that stir something in him? Would he get excited, intrigued… maybe even a little unhinged? Or would it throw him off? I’d love to know how you think he’d handle it!”

Thank you!!!! Jeff has and always will be my favorite pasta, so I love fleshing him and his character out. That being said:

Jeff wouldn’t immediately flip out over someone wearing red. Blood is basically his daily cologne. It’s an unconventional and rather messy calling card that does its job to scare people he doesn’t like. But deep, deliberate red, especially if it’s purposefully worn (like lipstick, a sleek jacket, or a dress that clings in all the right places) that would register with him in a way he doesn’t usually notice. It wouldn’t be about fashion, it’d be about your association and intention with the color itself.

Red is just a color, blood-shaded or not. Jeff would take notice and interest with your presentation of it, designating the color as his signature and claim on you. Setup is key here.

If you walked into a room like that, quiet confidence humming under your skin, Jeff would probably freeze for just a beat. Not in shock, more like recognition. Like something primal just blinked awake.

“Huh.”

He’d eye you up and down with that sharp, slit-smile.

“You wearin’ that for me, sweetheart? Or am I just lucky tonight?”

He wouldn’t necessarily go unhinged, but you’d definitely see the hunger flash in his eyes, not just the killer kind, but the curiosity-driven, feral intrigue that makes him lean closer. He doesn’t scare easy, but he notices power. And red, on the right person? It screams for attention.

Now, if you wear it casually, say, just a hoodie stained from a rough night, he probably wouldn’t care. But if it’s intentional, almost like a dare? Then yeah, he’d get a little antsy. Not in a bad way, though.

“You know red is like, my thing, right?

…You tryin’ to start something?”

He’d circle you like a predator who’s not sure if they’re seeing a prey or a decoy, taking the time to wait you out to be sure. The more deliberate your choice of explanation, the more fun he has picking apart why.

So bottom line: it wouldn’t throw him off, it’d wind him up. Especially if you wear it like you know what it means.

꩜ .ᐟ

[after-witch]

The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret. 

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful. 

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s  immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled. 

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves. 

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war. 

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol. 

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games. 

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win. 

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could. 

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes. 

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs. 

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you. 

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it? 

Her smile grew wider. 

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze. 

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue. 

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.” 

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is…?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else. 

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone 

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples. 

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you. 

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead,  you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned. 

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

--

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think  you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors. 

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash. 

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats. 

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom. 

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about 

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked. 

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it. 

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.  

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?” 

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm. 

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father. 

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

--

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets. 

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there,  unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated. 

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it. 

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl. 

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little.  You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not. 

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

--

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up. 

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans. 

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door. 

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.” 

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.” 

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home. 

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University. 

--

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment.  You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber. 

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy. 

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject. 

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?” 

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t. 

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.” 

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested. 

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

--

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone. 

There was an Avox in the room. 

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married. 

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic. 

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now. 

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered. 

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did. 

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home. 

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home. 

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

--

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1. 

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls?  I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No.  You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world. 

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.” 

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

--

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you.  You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father. 

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in? 

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette. 

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real? 

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick. 

“Good.” 

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year. 

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow. 

Of course you would. 

Your life depended on it. 

[lovezbrownies]

LoveBird (Yandere!F!Pop Idol x GN!Reader.)

Masterlist - Previously

Synopsis: Yuna Claire is beyond famous, she's adored and admired. Yet when she meets you, a nobody, you look at her the same way, like she was a nobody. What follows is her wooing you.

It all started with a fleeting encounter that Yuna couldn’t shake, no matter how much she tried. She’d been stuck in a rare moment of anonymity, her hoodie pulled low and sunglasses perched precariously on her nose as she wandered into a small indie bookstore tucked into the outskirts of the city. It wasn’t the kind of place anyone would expect to find Yuna Claire, the untouchable pop idol. But she wasn’t there to be recognized. The noise of her world—the constant demands, the suffocating adoration—had driven her to seek solace somewhere quiet. And that’s when she saw you.

You were sat on one of the designated seating areas of the library, hunched over the novel you had in your hands, The Poppy War, flipping through the novel with an unhurried grace that felt foreign to her chaotic life. Yuna hadn’t meant to linger, but something about you caught her off guard. Maybe it was the way you scrunched your eyebrows faintly at the book, as if it sucked you right in the world. Or perhaps it was your complete disinterest in the world around you, your focus solely on the pages in your hands. For someone used to commanding attention, it was jarring to feel invisible in someone’s presence—and yet, there was something magnetic about it. She couldn’t look away.

What struck her most was the brief exchange that followed. As you got up, the book slipping from your hands, at this point Yuna was just behind you, Yuna instinctively bent to pick it up at the same time you did. Your fingers brushed hers for the briefest moment, and when your eyes met, there was no flicker of recognition. No widening of pupils, no stammering or excitement. “Thanks,” you said simply, a polite smile on your face as you took the book and moved on without a second glance. Yuna blinked, stunned. You didn’t know her. You didn’t care who she was.

That small interaction planted a seed in her mind that quickly grew into an obsession. For the first time in years, someone had treated her like a normal person, not a larger-than-life figure. The weight of her fame always pressed down on her, making every interaction feel superficial, every relationship transactional. But you were different. The memory of your indifference became a tether she couldn’t sever. It wasn’t rejection—it was freedom. Freedom from the persona she’d carefully constructed, from the expectations that suffocated her daily. You saw her, if only for a second, as just another human being.

From that day on, Yuna found herself drawn to the bookstore, always under the guise of needing “space” from her hectic schedule. She told herself it was a coincidence at first, but she knew better. Her heart raced each time she spotted you, even if she never worked up the courage to speak again. She learned your habits quickly—when you visited, what genres you lingered over, the little furrow in your brow when you couldn’t find what you wanted. She told herself it was harmless, this quiet observation. But deep down, Yuna knew it was something far darker. You’d given her a glimpse of something she hadn’t even realized she craved, and now, she couldn’t let go.

Yuna spotted you across the bookstore just as she had the first time. The familiarity of the scene was enough to make her heart quicken—though she’d never admit such a thing aloud. This wasn’t coincidence; it was destiny, she decided. You were meant to be here, meant to be hers. Adjusting the hoodie draped loosely over her figure and tugging her mask into place, she approached with the same deliberate confidence she used on stage. Each step was slow, unhurried, as though she had all the time in the world. Her sharp gaze stayed fixed on you, tracing the slope of your shoulders, and the slight furrow in your brow as you scanned the shelves. She let herself savor the sight for a moment before finally making her move.

When you turned at the sound of her footsteps, recognition flickered briefly in your eyes. But just as quickly, it faded, replaced by polite curiosity. No gushing, no fan-like adoration—just the calm, neutral expression that made Yuna’s pulse race. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” she teased, her voice low and smooth, every syllable carrying an almost musical cadence. The lazy warmth of her tone made it seem like she was speaking directly to your soul, drawing you into her orbit without effort.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard, and she saw the hesitation in your posture. “Oh, it’s you again,” you said with a polite, if cautious, smile. “Kind of a coincidence, don’t you think?” There was an edge of wariness to your voice, and Yuna’s sharp instincts picked up on it immediately. She tilted her head, letting her hood slip just enough to reveal the curve of her jawline, the faintest flicker of her smirk visible beneath the mask. “Maybe,” she said, her voice lilting with an easy confidence, “or maybe it’s fate.”

The words lingered between you, and you shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I don’t really know if I believe in fate,” you said hesitantly, your eyes darting to the shelf as if looking for an escape route. But Yuna wasn’t going to let you slip away so easily. She leaned in slightly, closing the space between you just enough to command your attention without crossing the line. Her voice softened, becoming almost a whisper. “You should,” she murmured, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Some things… some people… are meant to cross paths. Don’t you feel it? Like there’s something here, waiting to be discovered?”

Your hesitation was palpable, and she could see the inner debate in your eyes. You didn’t know her—not really. You’d only met once before, and yet, here she was, weaving her way into your life with an ease that felt almost magical. “I guess I know what y-you’re getting at but um… I mean… I don’t even know your name,” you finally said, your voice cautious but curious. Yuna’s smirk widened beneath her mask, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Yuna,” she said simply, the name falling from her lips like a spell. “ I’d like to get to know you better. How about this weekend? A little coffee, maybe? I know an amazing place that’ll make you feel like you’re… exploding.”

The words wrapped around you like silk, disarming your defenses before you even realized it. There was something hypnotic about her, the way she moved, the way she spoke, as though the entire world bent to her will. You found yourself nodding before you could think it through. “I… guess that sounds fine,” you said, the words slipping out almost involuntarily. Yuna’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and she reached out to lightly brush your arm, the touch brief but electrifying. “Perfect,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made your heart skip. You didn’t know what you’d just agreed to, but under her gaze, it felt like you didn’t have a choice.

The café Yuna chose was tucked away in a quiet part of the city, a place far removed from the usual hustle and bustle. It had an understated charm: soft lighting, the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and cozy nooks lined with mismatched cushions. You found yourself surprised by how comfortable the atmosphere was, the initial hesitance you’d felt about meeting her already beginning to fade. Yuna sat across from you, her posture relaxed yet deliberate, as if she’d been born to own whatever space she occupied. Even dressed down in her hoodie and mask—now pulled down to reveal her striking features—she had an undeniable presence, a glow that made it hard not to get caught up in her rhythm.

“So,” she began, swirling the straw in her iced coffee lazily, her voice a melody that was equal parts soothing and alluring, “what’s your story? You seem… different from most people I run into.” Her gaze settled on you, not demanding but captivating, like she genuinely cared about your answer. You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the intensity of her attention, but something about the way she asked made you feel like opening up. “Different how?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Yuna leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her expression softening. “It’s hard to put into words,” she said, her voice dipping into a thoughtful murmur. “You’re just… real. Like you’re not trying to impress anyone. It’s refreshing.” She chuckled lightly, the sound warm and almost self-deprecating. “Most people I meet are either trying too hard or not at all. But you? You just… are.” Her words lingered, settling into the space between you like a confession. For a moment, you felt seen in a way that was both unnerving and comforting.

As the conversation flowed, so did your guard. You found yourself laughing more easily, sharing little anecdotes about your life, and listening to Yuna talk about hers in vague yet compelling terms. She didn’t reveal much—nothing too personal—but she had a way of weaving her words that made everything sound meaningful. “Life’s too short not to chase what you want,” she said at one point, her eyes holding yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “You strike me as someone who understands that.” There was a subtle weight to her words, a quiet suggestion that left you wondering if she was talking about more than just philosophy.

The moments stretched, warm and easy, until the spell was abruptly broken. From the corner of the room, a voice piped up, hesitant yet tinged with excitement. “Oh my god… are you Yuna Claire?” Both of you turned toward the source—a young woman clutching a notebook, her eyes wide with disbelief. Yuna’s relaxed posture stiffened slightly, though only someone as observant as her might notice. Annoyance prickled under her skin, sharp and immediate. It wasn’t the first time a fan had interrupted her, but this was different. This was your moment, your time with her, and the intrusion felt like a personal affront.

Despite the irritation coursing through her, she smoothed her features into a soft, practiced smile, her charisma shifting gears as effortlessly as breathing. “I guess you caught me,” she said smoothly, her tone still warm but now tinged with the polish of someone used to this kind of interaction. “What gave me away?” Inside, though, her thoughts churned. Of all the times, it had to be now. Can't they see I’m busy? Do they always have to invade my space like this? Her gaze flicked briefly to you, worried this interruption might shatter the mood she’d worked so hard to build. The fan giggled nervously, holding out the notebook. “Your eyes. I recognized them immediately. Could I… could I get a photo and an autograph?”

Yuna hesitated for the briefest of moments, her annoyance bubbling just below the surface. She stole another glance at you, forcing a flicker of apology into her eyes before she turned back to the fan. Smile. Sign. Make it quick, she thought, the plan forming in an instant. “Of course,” she said softly, taking the notebook with a practiced grace that belied the irritation simmering beneath. As she signed, her other hand brushed the edge of the table, a subtle gesture that seemed almost possessive—as if to remind herself and the intruder that this wasn’t just her public persona’s time. It was hers. And she wouldn’t let it be stolen for long.

The fan’s interruption didn’t seem to linger too long, but as Yuna slid back into her seat across from you, you couldn’t help but notice a flicker of unease in her expression. It was subtle—gone in an instant, replaced by her usual serene demeanor—but it was enough to pique your curiosity. “So, uh… what was that about?” you asked cautiously, gesturing toward the empty space where the fan had stood moments earlier. Yuna’s hand paused briefly over her drink, but then she let out a soft laugh, the sound as breezy as it was calculated.

“Oh, that?” she said, brushing off the moment with a wave of her hand. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, though you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just her way of deflecting. “I just… I was really good at debating back in my college debate team. Hah, hall of fame and all.” She leaned back in her chair, her grin a little too perfect as she sipped her coffee. “Guess she must’ve recognized me from an old tournament or something. It’s funny what sticks with people, huh?” The explanation was strange, but her confidence was magnetic, and the way she smiled—just a little crooked, a touch conspiratorial—made it hard to question her.

You let it go, deciding that the rest of the date was far too pleasant to get hung up on oddities. By the time the conversation began winding down, you found yourself surprised at just how much you’d enjoyed the afternoon. “This was… really nice,” you admitted as you stepped outside with her, the cool air brushing against your skin. “I’m glad I came.” Yuna’s lips curved into a satisfied smile, and she reached into her pocket to hand you her phone. “Here,” she said simply, “put your number in.” You hesitated for just a moment before relenting, typing it in and passing it back. Yuna didn’t miss the shy little smile on your face as she glanced down at the screen. The car ride back to your home was filled with easy conversation, and as you stepped out, she lingered for a moment, her voice soft and warm. “Next time, my treat.”

The next morning, everything felt surreal. Your phone buzzed incessantly on your nightstand, a flurry of messages lighting up the screen. Groggily, you reached for it, wondering why so many people suddenly had urgent reasons to talk to you. But as your eyes focused on the notifications, your heart skipped a beat. Social media was flooded with pictures—your pictures. There you were, sitting across from Yuna at the café, her face mostly obscured by her hoodie and mask, but unmistakable to anyone who really looked. Her unmistakable eyes and relaxed posture, coupled with the proximity between the two of you, had sent fans into a frenzy.

Group chats were blowing up. Friends you hadn’t spoken to in ages were suddenly sending screenshots of the posts with captions like “Is this YOU?!” and “Were you on a date with YUNA CLAIRE?!” The comments on the pictures were worse, filled with speculation, disbelief, and more than a little jealousy. You scrolled through the posts, your heart pounding with a mix of shock and confusion. Who was she, really? Her explanation from yesterday seemed laughable now, but the memory of her smile—so self-assured and just a little mischievous—made your stomach twist. Yuna Claire. The name suddenly had a weight you couldn’t quite grasp.

You set your phone down and exhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself. The day before had been perfect, and now it felt like it was slipping through your fingers, no longer yours to hold onto. The pictures, the comments, the speculation—it all felt unreal, like you’d stumbled into someone else’s life. And yet, you couldn’t help but think of the way she’d looked at you, like you were the only person in the room that mattered. The charm she exuded so effortlessly had felt genuine, even intimate. You wanted to believe it was real, even as doubts crept in.

Was she just playing a game? Or had you seen a side of her that no one else had? The thought sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, a small part of you hoped you’d get to find out.

The day passed in a blur, the events of the morning casting a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. Messages kept pouring in, each one pulling you deeper into the chaos that seemed to follow Yuna Claire. The odd thing was, despite the confusion and growing anxiety, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel angry. There was something about the way Yuna had carried herself, her charm and ease, that left you more intrigued than upset. She’d drawn you into her orbit, and it was hard to resist the pull.

By evening, your phone buzzed again, this time with an unknown number. A part of you hesitated before opening the message, but curiosity won out.

XXX-XXX: hey, i hope all that debacle didnt scare u off yet lol

XXX-XXX: im sorry for not being honest wiht u, its yuna

You stared at the text for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She’d clearly seen the fallout, but her message was casual, almost too casual, as though this kind of situation wasn’t new to her. Before you could overthink it, another message came through.

Yuna: let me see you again, ill tell u everything, but this time to avoid anymore of the razzi come over to mine, 

Yuna sent you a google maps link.

The words lingered in your mind, their ambiguity unsettling yet tantalizing. You typed out a quick reply, keeping your tone light.

You: sure but ill dress up, so if they see me they dont catch me off guard and ugly

Yuna: omg

Meanwhile, Yuna sat in the quiet of her penthouse, the glow of her phone illuminating her face. The fallout had been predictable—fans recognizing her disguise, tabloids running wild with speculation—but it didn’t bother her as much as she thought it might. If anything, the chaos only served to solidify her resolve. You were worth it. She could still see the way you’d smiled at her during the date, the way your hesitance had melted under her gaze. That was real. That was hers.

Her annoyance at the fan earlier lingered like a dull ache, a reminder of the world she’d chosen and the obstacles it placed in her path. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to regret the risks she’d taken to get closer to you. This was just the beginning. She tapped her fingers against her phone, a plan already forming in her mind. The next date would be even better—more private, more intimate.

Yuna smiled to herself, a lazy curve of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Let them talk, let the world speculate. She’d handle it all, just as she always did. But when it came to you? That was a game she refused to lose.

[crimsonkat59]

The Infinights

The pixelated RPG game Infinights, developed by Tales From the Stinky Dragon, garnered many positive reviews from fans of the developer’s past works and soon brought in new fans, many of whom had never played a game of such style. 

Infinights is a story-driven game where you play as four ‘Infinight Interns’ trying to find the Infinights (a group of notorious heroes), defeat a devious woman called Paralyte, and save the realm of Faeza. There are many loveable NPCs scattered throughout the five realms of Faeza, each unique to their homeland. And the music changes throughout the land, even during encounters! 

What many have found interesting about the game is that the player does not control a specific character. The four Interns move as a group and the walking order of the players changes according to their environment (for example, Mudd leads the group through his home city of the BuhBayou while Kyborg will lead when they’re in Evirwinter). In combat, each Intern and their enemies are given a specific order to which they can take a turn. This is one of the many cases where Infinights uses luck and randomization to achieve unique playthroughs. Often, conversations will have dialogue options that will either succeed or fail based on the program’s virtual ‘coin flip’ and the amount of damage any attack will do it based on a ‘dice roll’ of sorts. 

Infinights has been praised for its simple but beautiful graphics and its simple design. However, it has gained criticism as well. 

One main flaw many players see is how rigid the story is. There are not many chances for exploration and though conversations can change due to luck, things end up the same in the end. After some time, the developers released an update containing a second playing mode. This mode, entitled ‘The Past’ (changing the main story mode to ‘The Present’), lets the player play in a more open-world concept. And as the original Infinights. 

What’s loved about The Past is that it allows the player to see more into the life of the characters the game is entitled after. There were complaints that, for being titular characters and the game’s main quest, the Infinights did not have a strong role in the story, especially Grislee and Elleve. The Past changes this, giving each Infinight more lines and a more fleshed out character. 

Of course, the open-world style is appreciated as well. There’s a fully interactable map to navigate through and many new locations within each city to explore. New shops, new NPCs, new quests. And while The Past has a few scripted adventures and quests, the easiest way to explore the world is to travel to one city and simply walk around. More quests become available as the Infinights become more renowned throughout Faeza, with more people also willing to aid their adventures. 

The Past also created thought. As the main villain of the main story, Paralyte, is seen in this mode as just another Infinight. She is primarily called ‘Luce’, which is her real name, and is visually different. Many have joked that she looks ‘healthier’ in The Past as her skin is less pale. What many notice is that there’s no green infinity sign carved into her armor in The Past, but she instead wears an armband with the Infinight’s logo on it. (Just like Spectril!) 

Throughout the story, Luce and the others get along very well. Her voice is still ‘honeyed yet haunting’, but her interactions with the Infinights are full of smiles and jokes. Luce cracks a few herself, leaving the threats to the enemies encountered in combat. 

This mode, even when played to 100%, does not address exactly why Luce left the Infinights. Theories have been made through dialogue left throughout both modes of the game, but there has been no official response from the developers. Tales From the Stinky Dragon often prides itself on adding a bit of mystery to their games, with some questions getting answered while others are left up to the fans. 

The newest mystery they’ve unveiled is Grotethe, another RPG game in the works. Through released screenshots, it’s clear that the game uses the same base as Infinights. The combat and dialogue systems are the same, along with the game’s basic premise. However, one question that has been raised is how the story modes work. Will Grotethe have only a story-driven mode, only open-world, or will it include both? None of the released content points to any of these options. 

On a similar note, it is also clear that Grotethe takes is set in an entirely different place. The technology and locations (and even the appearance of one of the main characters!) that can be seen in different screenshots are causing speculation amongst fans. People wonder whether the two games are related or not and, if they are, how? No voice clips for any of the characters have been released yet, but fans hope that the voices of the main characters will aid them in this quest for answers. 

Until then, everyone continues to enjoy the stunning game that is Infinights. 

This project, with all visual details compiled on one Adobe Illustrator document entitled 'rot' because I failed to spell 'rpg' started on Tuesday, January 14th. Through various sessions of various lengths and occasional mouse usage, it has finally been completed. I now hate rectangles and squares. 

Various parts of the artwork should be recognizable to other games of a similar style. When I went looking for sprite bases when this project first started, I landed on a base sprite for Omori. I have never played Omori. Along with that, the way the combat screen looks is taken from Deltarune (which I have played) and the shop screen has influences from it. 

And it should be known that most things made in this work I had a trace (with pixels) from a random internet image. That dragon was NOT freehand, nor was that train, the map and pretty much everything from the shop screen (though, the shopkeeper whose name I cannot remember was drawn from a sketch I made). All text except title text (Infinights, Grotethe, Tales From the Stinky Dragon) is actual type, only the title text I drew (with a reference).

My school shouldn’t have allowed me to have an Adobe account or a teacher/class to teach me graphic design. I am using it for evil.

Sprite sheet:

The state my school computer's desktop was left in. Just because I think it's funny.

[endofthelinexx]

Driven to You | 1

Pairing: Female!Student!Reader x Lewis Hamilton

TW: Language, fake friend

Rating: Mature, 18+

AN: soooo im back pt 5. I got hit with some inspiration and I'm so excited to start writing again. I'm hyped af for this series, its going to be soooo good and lewis omg he's looking so fine in that brand new red I just had to write about him! comment to be added to the taglist!

Word count: 1.7k

Mini Summary: Lena Carter is just a sorority girl from Texas with big dreams of designing cars, not getting caught up in the spotlight. But when a Ferrari guest lecturer turns out to be none other than Formula 1 legend Lewis Hamilton, her world is thrown into chaos. Between stolen glances, secret encounters, and the growing tension that neither of them can ignore, Lena finds herself racing toward a life she never imagined—one where the stakes are higher than ever.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of it, and claiming it as your own.  

| chapter 1 |

Lena's POV

Lena Carter, a senior in college, was an interior design major with a love for Formula 1. She wasn’t shy about the fact that her Sundays were spent glued to the television, watching races and wishing she had a passion for engineering, but unfortunately, she hates physics with a passion. Her roommates, Jade and Amelia, didn’t quite share the same enthusiasm, but they loved teasing her about her obsession.

“Lena, are you seriously watching another race highlight?” Amelia groaned, leaning against the kitchen counter as she stirred her coffee.

“It’s not just a highlight,” Lena replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s an analysis video. There’s a difference.”

“Okay, well, whatever it is, can you pause it and help me make our breakfast so we can make it to studio on time?” Jade begged, hands together sarcastically. Lena nodded and jumped up, walking into the kitchen to help.

The three girls worked in harmony, laughing and joking as they prepped breakfast. Their apartment, a cozy off-campus rental, was filled with the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs. 

“So, what’s the plan for today? Do you think Ethan will actually show up to class this time?” Lena teased, glancing at Jade as she popped a strawberry into her mouth.

Ethan was Jade's boyfriend, he was an architecture major, so he was in the same building as them, just on the arrogant side. He was of course in a frat, Jade has yet to learn her lesson about dating frat boys, which annoyed Lena since she was always hugging Jade while she cried about them. They’d been dating a few months and honestly, Lena got bad vibes, she didn’t know what it was, but she was sure all the pieces would fall into place sooner rather than later.

Jade groaned, flipping the eggs in the pan with more force than necessary. “I told him last night that if he doesn’t get his act together, I’m done. But you know Ethan—he’s all talk and no action.”

Amelia smirked over the rim of her coffee mug. “Are we still pretending he’s going to change? Because, honestly, I don’t think he even knows where his studio is.”

Lena laughed, tossing a few blueberries at Amelia, who squealed and dodged them. “You two are the worst,” Jade muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

As the girls sat down to eat, the conversation shifted to what their studio project might be. She was hoping it had something to do with car interiors since that is what they’ve been doing their work on recently, but they wouldn’t know for another week or two.

They went to studio, it was nothing of interest, just desk critiques and feedback. Lena and Jade sat next to each other, of course; they talked as they did their work. Unfortunately for Amelia, she sat a row down from them, but she had another friend, Natalia. Natalia was, honestly, a bitch—which was why Jade and Lena sat away from them.

Lena was doing some research on car interior materials when she felt her phone buzz on her desk. She absentmindedly glanced at the screen, expecting another generic school notification or maybe a tiktok from Jade. But what she saw instead made her heart skip a beat.

“Guest Lecture Series: Lewis Hamilton - Formula 1 Champion and Advocate for Innovation in Design.”

Her fingers trembled slightly as she tapped the notification to read the full details. The lecture was scheduled for next Tuesday at the auditorium on campus. It didn’t feel real. Lewis Hamilton? Here? On her campus?

“Lena?” Jade nudged her, frowning when she noticed the look on her friend’s face. “You good?”

“Uh...” Lena’s voice wavered as she struggled to find the words. She turned her phone to Jade, showing her the announcement.

Jade’s eyes widened, “Lewis Hamilton? Isn’t he that hot dude that does your racing shit? What does he know about design?”

“I don’t really care what he knows about design, I’m going to that damn lecture,” Lena grinned as she spoke, already getting excited.

Jade couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Okay okay, no one is stopping you girl. What if he notices you and falls immediately in love?”

“This isn’t a Wattpad one direction fanfiction Jade, this is real life, that won't happen, but I will get to see him, maybe even meet him!” She rolled her eyes at Jade. “I have to ask him a question too!”

As the studio session dragged on, Lena found it impossible to focus. Her mind kept drifting back to the announcement, to Lewis Hamilton, to the idea of seeing him in person. Would she get to ask him a question? Would he actually take time to talk to her?

Lewis' POV

Lewis Hamilton leaned back in his chair, his phone resting face-up on the marble kitchen counter of his Monaco apartment. The gentle hum of an espresso machine filled the space as his assistant, Rebecca, stood by the window, flipping through his packed schedule for the upcoming week.

“So, Tuesday,” Rebecca began, glancing at her tablet. “You’ve got that guest lecture at that university in America. Design innovation, sustainability, and motorsport—your usual talking points. Should be straightforward.”

Lewis nodded, taking a sip of his freshly made coffee. “Yeah, straightforward for you maybe. I’ve got to convince a room full of students that what we do in F1 has relevance outside the paddock.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Lewis, they invited you. Most of those kids are probably just showing up to fangirl over you, not sustainability trends.”

He laughed, setting his mug down. “I don’t know about that. I mean, I hope at least a few of them are serious about design.” He leaned forward, glancing at her tablet. “What time’s the lecture again?”

“Afternoon. You’ve got a private jet booked the night before to get you there in time. And don’t forget the meet-and-greet after. The university’s design department specifically requested it. They’re big on networking.”

Lewis ran a hand through his messy curls, leaning back again. “It’ll be fine. It’s important to me, you know?”

Rebecca smiled. “I know, Lewis. It’s why you’re perfect for this.”

As she continued running through his itinerary, his thoughts drifted. The last few weeks had been relentless: races, training, meetings, sponsor obligations. He barely had time to breathe, let alone think about how much he enjoyed moments like these—engaging with people outside the motorsport bubble.

Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that always crept in before events like this. Would the students care about sustainability? Would they see beyond the celebrity and focus on the message? He wanted to inspire them, sure, but he also wanted to connect with them, to plant the seed that their work could have real impact.

“…and that’s it for next week,” Rebecca finished, snapping him out of his thoughts. She shot him a pointed look. “Try not to overthink it, yeah? They’ll love you.”

“Overthinking? Me?” Lewis smirked, lifting his mug again. “Never.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and walked out, leaving Lewis alone with his thoughts. He picked up his phone and opened the university’s email again, scrolling through the details of the event. A lecture in a quiet town in the south—it wasn’t exactly glamorous compared to the glitz of Monaco, but maybe that was the point.

Lena’s POV

Lena stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the hem of her blouse. The lecture was in a few hours, and she was running through her outfit choices in her head. She wanted to look professional—after all, this wasn’t some random event, but a lecture by Lewis Hamilton himself. But she also wanted to look... well, hot. She knew how to balance both.

She settled on a blue button up top, unbuttoning the top few buttons to show a little bit of the black lace bra she wore with it. The top gave her the professional edge she wanted, but the bra underneath was something she knew could catch his attention if he chose to look her way at all. The dark jeans she paired it with had just the right fit, and a pair of low, sleek heels added a bit of height. She glanced at herself one last time, pulling her hair into a low bun with a few strands left to frame her face. She took a deep breath, sprayed her YSL perfume and headed out of the house.

 When she arrived at the auditorium, she moved as quick as she could to get to one of the front rows, smiling and knowing maybe she’d have a chance of making eye contact with him. She took out her notebook to take notes with and glanced around the room, noticing it being filled with mostly girls, some of which not being dressed professionally at all, it looked more like they were going to the bars after. She shook her head, not very surprised. All of a sudden the light dimmed and out walked Lewis Hamilton, her eyes went wide. She didn’t fully realize how close she was to the stage until he walked out and was standing probably within 20 feet of her. Everyone clapped as he waved and made his way to sit down on a couch set up on the stage. It went quiet as he began to speak.

His outfit was simple, all black, dressed professionally, his hair braided like usual, and he had a smile on his face as he spoke. She took notes of course, listened to what he had to say, but every now and then she couldn’t help but stare. As the lecture wrapped up, Lena couldn’t wait to ask a question. She had thought about it all day, rehearsing in her mind how to sound confident without being too forward. She had to make this moment count. When the Q&A session opened, she raised her hand without hesitation.

His attention turned to her hand first, pointing at it, “yes, what’s your question?”

Her eyes widened as they met his, but she had to keep her cool, everyone was looking at her. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to ask the question.

Taglist:

@lh44girl

next chapter >>

[gejo333]

Art credit goes to @kit-and-wolfe ! Thank you for fulfilling my wish to see Miguel in a wedding suit!🥹🥰💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

An Unexpected Match XIII

DBF/DILF Miguel O’Hara x female reader

18+ Warning

Pt.1 Pt.14

Summary: The months of preparation for the big day!💐💍🔔

Only three chapters left of “ An Unexpected Match!” (Not including this chapter)

Enjoy🥰

Wc: 15.6k

————————————————————————

When you and Miguel arrived from Miami, your family, friends, and future in-laws met you in the backyard for a surprise engagement party.

You were both happy and shocked that Stephanie and Gabriel could quickly pull something spectacular. Yet again, it was Stephanie and Gabriel. If they wanted something done, they'd get it done. Of course, you weren't surprised that your parents weren't attending. Probably because you didn't tell them that Miguel had proposed to you. Despite all the drama, you still wanted to share the news of your happiness. But you were smart to know they wouldn't be happy. 

Jack had told you that they found out about your news from your Instagram and were not pleased, saying, like a broken record player, that you were too young and that Miguel was too old for you. Of course, you smiled when Stephanie added that Jack defended your relationship with Miguel and said that he cared for your happiness and thought Miguel was a good man for you. 

You chuckled from the memory when Liam approached the four of you, 'Now that you're going to be my future brother-in-law, can I test drive your Aston Martin?' As soon as the words came out of his mouth, you and Jack scolded your childish younger brother. God, you were glad you weren't a sophomore in college anymore. Of course, Miguel, being the gentleman he is, agreed as long as you or he were in the car. And, of course, you didn't help but brag to Liam that you had driven it before, to which his reaction was priceless. 

You sat at a cafe basking in the warmth of the almost-summer sun, scrolling through wedding catalogs.

"Damn, I knew wedding planning was a lot, but I didn't think it was this detailed! Like why is everything individually priced! And way overpriced! I saw this same napkin set for $5 at Target, and this is $30 for two?!" Stephanie stressed as she quickly flipped the pages of her catalog. "God, I wish I snagged a billionaire. But my heart is for your brother." Stephanie dramatically places the back of her hand on her forehead before moving it over her heart. You only rolled your eyes and chuckled at your best friend's childish antics. 

"I still don't 100% understand when you're so amazing, and he's just, well... Jack. But I am happy for both of you. I can't wait till he proposes so we can legally be sisters." You waved the waitress's attention to the check, which they saw and nodded.

"Honestly, I don't think I want to get married now that I have realized how much debt my dream wedding will make me." Stephanie gasped as she saw another overly-priced item. "Do you know your budget?"

"Funny thing is, there is no budget. Miguel won't let me pay for any of it, and there is no limit.  I want to help pay for it too, but he refuses to let me, which is frustrating, to say the least." You sigh as you place your card down on the bill. 

" I love that the only issue you have with your fiancé is that he wants to pay for everything." Stephanie chuckled as she finished her coffee, to which you sent her a light glare. 

" Steph, you know how I am. I don't want to be some dependent trophy wife. I want to contribute to the expenses. But enough about that. I invited you for coffee because I want you to be my maid of honor." You hold her hands as you smile brightly at her.

"I'd be honored to be your main wingwoman at the wedding. You can count on me!" Stephanie squeezed your hands as she returned your smile. "I will also take on the role of wedding planner! Only I know what your dream wedding is, not some overly-priced, stuck-up designer." 

"If you're up for the task, Miguel and I would love the help." After saying your goodbyes, you plan to see each other to start brainstorming themes for the wedding. You head back home, welcomed by your happy six-year-old daughter. 

"Mama, you're back!" Gabi ran up and gave you a bear hug. You smiled lovingly at her as you leaned down to return the hug. The smile on your face disappeared when you noticed a cut on her arm. 

"Baby bug, what happened here? Are you okay?" You check her arm to get a better look at it. It already had a scab, which meant it happened hours ago, most likely at school. 

"I fell during P.E. and scraped my arm when it happened. But I was a big girl, and I didn't cry." Gabi smiled, proud of her statement. You comb some of her fly-away curls behind her ear as you give her another hug, kissing the top of her forehead. "Oh, sweetie, that sounds horrible. It's okay to cry when you get hurt. There is nothing wrong in that."

"I know, but I didn't want to cry in front of the boys because they would make fun of me." Gabi's lips quivered slightly, pouting. 

"Well, if they ever make fun of you for crying, tell them you don't care what they think. And you shouldn't care what others think about you, Gabi. Just be your amazing, sweet self. But hey, if they still are giving you trouble, we'll have Papa scare them off. Cause no one upsets our baby bug." Placing one last kiss on her head, you let her go as she smiles brightly at you before running back to her playroom.

You smile before heading towards the office where your fiancé spends most of his time when he's not with you or Gabi. You notice the door slightly cracked open, signaling he wasn't too busy. As the new CEO of a mega-corporation, you were surprised by how much time he still gets to be with you and Gabi. 

You gently knock on the door to alert your presence before walking in. 

"Cariño? How was coffee with Stephanie?" Miguel called out, still focused on his various computer screens. You walk up behind him as you wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind, resting your head on his shoulder. With one hand, Miguel entangles his fingers with yours and kisses your knuckles near your engagement ring. Half-focused on work. Half-focused on you.

"It was nice. I asked her to be my maid of honor, which she was happy to accept. She is also going to help plan the wedding. Her sense of taste is way better than any wedding planner that I looked at."

"She did do a really good job with the engagement party," Miguel added. 

"She did. I have always trusted her taste in design and decor. Have you talked to Gabe about being your best man?" You chuckled at his slight pout from your last words.

"I just haven't had the patience for his energy lately. And he won't leave me alone when I ask him." Miguel sighed as he leaned his head against yours, and you kissed his cheek sweetly. 

"Well, it's better to rip off the bandaid than leave it. Plus, you know he's been waiting for you to ask. On a different note, can we discuss something more seriously?" 

Your change in tone brought his full attention as he guided you to the front of his chair, both serious and curious brown eyes looking up at you. You smile as you straddle his lap and comb a few stray-away curls from his face. You always loved it when he had his glasses on. 

"Don't worry, honey. It's nothing bad. I just wanted to talk about expenses."

"What about them?" Miguel's hands rested on your hips, gently brushing his fingers against your clothing. 

"I want to be more a part of it. I want to help chip in. Like for our wedding, the house, and Gabi." 

"Like I've said before, Hermosa, save your money. You know I can easily take care of everything."

"I know you can, Miguel, but I want to contribute. Please let me help pay for things. I don't want to be financially dependent on you. I love you and can't wait to be your wife in a few months, but I will not be a trophy wife. So please, for my sake, let me help pitch in." You tried your best to give him a serious gaze without wanting to melt into his strong and warm embrace. 

A small sigh escaped his lips before he smiled. "It's hard to say no to you. Alright. You can help pay for Gabi's soccer things and groceries."

"And half the wedding."

"No."

"A quarter?"

"How about just the cake."

"Cake and flowers?"

"Fine. You have a deal, mi amor, if I can have a kiss." Miguel smirked, pinching your hip.

"Well, you can have a kiss anytime you want and as many times as you want." You smile, leaning in as your lips meet his in a soft and sweet kiss. "Here's another one," you say before placing another kiss on his lips, "and another because I love you." 

The kisses formed into a slightly heated make-out session as sweet kisses were placed on lips, necks, and light squeezes and touches. However, the enjoyable moment paused as you both heard light footsteps descending the hallway. You get off Miguel's lap and ensure you still look presentable. A few seconds later, barged in your daughter wearing a plastic tiara with pink gems and a matching tutu on her soccer uniform. 

"How cute do you look, baby bug. You look like a princess."

"I'm the soccer fairy princess. And I am inviting you and Papa to my royal tea party." Gabi handed you, and Miguel slips of paper with colorful drawings and writing. Of course, knowing your handwriting, you could tell she tried to spell out 'Momma's tea party invitation.'

"We would be honored to attend, Princesa." Miguel smiled as he got up from his chair, stretching to relieve the tension in his muscles from sitting too long. Would you like to be carried to your palace?" 

"Yes, please!" Gabi cheered in excitement before he picked her up with one arm. With his available hand, he entangled his fingers with yours as he led his family to the royal tea party upstairs.

.....

10 months before the wedding

"We're here!" Cheered Gabi from her car seat. You chuckle from her excitement as you exit the driver's side and unbuckle her from the car seat. Of course, as soon as she is out of the car, she runs to the car parked in front with a wild woman standing. 

"Auntie Steph!"

"Hi there, girlie! Are you here to help your Mama out with choosing a dress?" Stephanie smiled as she leaned down to hug Gabi, who happily reciprocated the gesture. 

"Yeah! But I promised her not to tell what the dress looks like even though Papa asked me to." 

"Oh, I see. Is Mr. O'Hara already getting impatient to make you Mrs. O'Hara?" Stephanie chuckled as she grinned at you, to which you replied with a smile and a playful roll of your eyes. 

As you entered, you were met by more of your wedding party, including a few more college friends as your bridesmaids and Conchata, Miguel's mother. You had met her only a few times, the last time at the engagement party. Ever since the beginning of your relationship with Miguel, you knew he wasn't close to his mother. Still, she was a good grandmother to Gabi and really sweet to you. When Miguel introduced you to her, she was overly excited to meet you, saying she was happy her son had found a nice woman. Even though she and Miguel weren't that close, it was nice to know that at least one parent approved of your relationship.  You had invited her to your wedding dress appointment because she always had wanted to be a part of the bridal process but never thought she would be able to since she only has sons. 

"Hola y/n! Que tal mi hija?" Conchata smiled as she hugged you, to which you happily returned. (Hi y/n! How are you, my daughter?)

"Hola Conchata. Bien. Estoy muy emocionado." (Hi Conchata. Good. I am very excited.)

"Me alegro. ¡No puedo esperar a verte probar vestidos! Asegúrate de que ese hijo mío no te deje embarazada antes de la boda. Lo era y odiaba que no pudiera caber en mi vestido."

(I'm glad. I can not wait to see you try dresses! Make sure that a son of mine does not get you pregnant before the wedding. I was, and I hated that I could not fit into my dress.)

"No te preocupes. No habrá noticias de futuros bebés hasta después de que se haya celebrado la boda." (Don't worry. There will be no news of future babies until after the wedding has happened). You chuckle at your future mother-in-law's words. You knew Miguel would say otherwise. 

He would be happy if you had told him you were pregnant today. Thankfully birth control prevented that from happening no matter how many times he tried overpowering the drug by staying inside you for hours after an intense amount of time fucking you. Lately, you have been falling asleep in bed with him deep inside you. 

Of course, your smile faded slightly when you saw your mother sitting next to your bridesmaids. She stood up with an awkward smile as she hugged you. "I'm shocked I was invited, especially since you didn't tell me you were engaged." 

"Well, every daughter wants their mom to be part of their wedding preparations, including dress shopping, despite your behavior." 

"My behavior? I'm telling you that what you are doing is a mistake.

"My son is not a mistake. And neither is this relationship. They are perfect for each other." Argued Conchata.

"Sarah, just be happy for her. Okay?" Steph touched your mother's shoulder, hoping to reason with her. 

"Let's just get on with this," your mother scoffed as she returned to her spot. You took a deep breath to calm your anger. You would try on wedding dresses; this is supposed to be a happy occasion. 

The bridal dress concierge walked towards your group. "Good afternoon, ladies. Now, who might be the bride?" 

"My mama is!" Gabi happily hugged you, and you chuckled as you looked down at her with a loving smile and gently caressed her head. 

"I am." 

"Lovely! Follow me right this way, Ms. L/n." The woman said warmly before walking into the bridal boutique with you, Gabi, and everyone else following behind. 

"Everyone can sit here while I take our lovely bride to the fitting room. The dresses you chose online are already in there for you. Please follow me." 

Before you leave, you turn to face Gabi, "I'll be in the dressing room, baby bug. Come in if you need me. Aunt Steph and Abuela will look after you." You kiss the top of her head before following the woman to the fitting room.

You had goosebumps on your skin, as you couldn't contain your excitement when you saw the dresses hanging up in the dressing room. 

Of course, no one told you how hard it was to get into a wedding dress. You only thought jean shopping was a nightmare. You sighed in contentment after finally getting the first dress on. This was going to be a workout. You look at the dress in the mirror, smiling as if you were happy with how it looked on you. But you knew it wasn't The dress. 

"Are you ready to show everyone?" said the concierge lady, her eyes meeting yours with a smile in the mirror. You nodded happily as you walked out of the fitting room and into the private sitting area. 

Your smile faded for the second time today when you noticed one person missing. Your face said it all as Stephanie answered your question before you even asked.

"She left. We tried to convince her to stay. But she wouldn't listen." Her words made your heart snap in two. You never would have thought you wouldn't be close to your parents anymore. That when your big day arrived, they wouldn't be there every step of the way. Guess you really saw their true selves. You tried your best to keep a smile as you stepped on the small stage to see the dress. 

"I think you look beautiful in this dress." One of your bridesmaid's friends said.

"You'll look gorgeous, mama!"

"Sexy as always, but I can tell this isn't your dress." Added Stephanie with a small smile. You knew she could see right through your barely believable act. 

"Yeah, I agree. I think I'll go try on the next dress." You say before heading back to the dressing room. Once you were back in the dressing room, out of the dress and in the provided robe, you collapsed onto the cushioned seat in tears. 

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry that happened to you. Is there anything we can do?" The sales clerk passed you a box of tissues, and you gladly accepted, not wanting to ruin your makeup. 

"Thank you."

"I'll be right back to get you water." The woman left as you continued to sit there to calm down your tears. 

You didn't realize how long you were in the dressing room until you heard Gabi's voice from the sitting room before hearing familiar large footsteps approaching you. A light knock was heard, followed by one of your many loving nicknames as Miguel walked in, the concern becoming more apparent when he saw your distressed state. 

"Miguel? What are you doing here?" You try to wipe away your tears and hide them, not wanting to have him worry about you.

"My mother called me, saying Sarah walked out, and you were heartbroken." Miguel kneeled before you as he brushed your hair away from your face. When he noticed your tear-stained cheeks, his blood began to boil. How dare that woman make you cry? It broke his heart to see you upset. 

He stood up and sat down beside you before grabbing you and making you straddle his lap. He placed butterfly kisses on your face and neck, something Miguel always knew would make you smile.

When he saw your beautiful smile reappearing, he placed one last kiss on your lips before he stopped to meet your beautiful gaze.

"Need any more of my love to wipe away those tears, cariño?" Miguel lightly chuckled as he used his finger to wipe away your last tears. You smiled as you gently shook your head before leaning in to kiss his lips. 

"Hey, you know the place where you wanted to have the wedding?" Miguel brushed your hair behind your shoulders, trying to hide a large smile on his face.

"Yeah. It would have been so amazing to get married there in Portugal. But I can't wait three years to marry you." You caress his face, trying to memorize all the lovely details.

"Well, I was going to tell you later tonight, but it's better now. I got that venue for our date."

Your breath caught in your throat as new tears appeared. Happy tears threaten to spill. "Oh, Miggy. I thought it was impossible to get it." 

"I might have pulled a few strings." He chuckled at your cute reaction as he wiped away your tears. 

You peppered his face with kisses before placing one on his lips. "Thank you for being so sweet. For loving me. Sometimes, I don't deserve to have someone as amazing as you."

"You have it all wrong, Hermosa. It's me who doesn't deserve a goddess like you. You have changed my world. You made me see all the good things. You made me feel loved for who I am and not what I am. I love you."

"I love you too." 

You stayed in each other's arms for a few more minutes before you heard the rumble of his voice. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm much better. Thank you." Your eyes widen when you realize the time of day. "Miguel, did you come here from work? Oh my god, I'm so sorry that I disturbed your day. You probably have way more important things to deal with than coming across the city to console me." You get off his lap, a blush coming across your cheeks when you realize underneath your robe were only your panties. 

"Mi Amor, I would drop any of my work stuff to be with you. Family is always number one to me. And why did you leave my lap." Miguel pouted as he tried to bring you back. 

"Miguel, I know what you're trying to do. Not happening here. Not in public." You chuckled as you got out of his grasping radius. He stood up from the chair as he walked over towards you. You walked backward until your back hit the wall. He tilted your head as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. 

"It never stopped us before. And you look so good in only a silk robe."  Miguel's hand went inside your robe, lowering towards your sensitive lips.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you felt two of his fingers slide past your underwear and enter your now aching hole. 

But of course, as soon as it began, it ended as you both heard your daughter running out of Stephanie's grasp and towards your dressing room. 

Miguel sighed as he rested his forehead against yours, removing his fingers from you and licking them to remove any trace of you from his fingers before kissing your lips. 

"She's been doing that a lot lately." Miguel huffed.

"It's alright. She's only six and wants to be with us whenever she can. We only get so many years of that." You caress his cheek, placing one last kiss on his lips before leaving your sandwiched spot between the wall and your fiancé, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to control himself if you didn't. 

" I know mi amor. I just love having my alone time with you." Miguel hugged you from behind as he kissed your neck, breathing in your scent. 

"And I love it too. But if we don't separate now, our baby daughter will need therapy." You chuckled as you left his hold, rewrapping your robe to better cover yourself. 

Within seconds, Gabi opens the curtain, followed by Stephanie, who gives you and Miguel an apologetic look. "This girl is fast." 

"¿Qué está pasando, princesa?" (What's going on, Princess?) Miguel chuckled as he picked her up.

"Abuela asked me to check on you and Mama to ensure you weren't playing around. What does she mean?" Gabi smiled as she began to play with her dad's curly hair. You went on Miguel's other side; he instinctively wrapped his free arm around your hips. You gently bumped her nose, making her giggle as you said, "Nothing happened, baby bug."

"But why were you two in here for so long?"

"I was consoling Mama because she was sad. And don't listen to what your Abuela said. She should have thought about her words first before saying that." 

The three of you left the dressing room and into the private showing area, where everyone awaited you. People came up to help console you, the bride, but you smiled, assuring them that you were alright. 

Miguel set Gabi down. Gabi then ran to your legs for a hug, which you happily accepted and returned. Your gaze goes to Miguel and Conchata, who bicker quietly in Spanish.  

You couldn't hear all of it but could make out most of it. 

"Por qué le dirías a Gabi que tú y yo estábamos 'jugando', no le digas que no entiende y que es demasiado joven para saberlo de todos modos'?"(Why would you tell Gabi that y/n and I were 'playing around? Don't tell her that. She  doesn't understand and she is too young to know anyways.)

"Bueno, ¿estaban ustedes dos 'jugando' allí?"(Well, were you two 'playing around' back there?)

"no, y ese no es el punto de esta conversación"

(no, and that is not the point of this conversation.)

"No lo niego del todo, hijo mío. ¿Qué diría Dios?"(I am not fully denying it, my son. What would God say?)

"No hablo de esto contigo. Eso es privado entre mi prometido y yo."(I am not talking about this with you. That's private between me and my fiance.) Miguel's watch buzzed, meaning he was getting a call from work; he looked down and glared at his wrist. "Tengo que tomar este." (I have to take this.)

"Peter, this better be an emergency." He said before he walked outside the store.

Gabi squeezed her tiny hand in yours, jumping up and down in excitement. "Mama, can we look at more dresses. I saw a really pretty one in that room." 

"Of course! Show me where it is." Gabi leads you to one of the rooms filled with various long white gowns. After a few minutes of looking, she points out the dress, to which you happily take it out. Just from the hangar, you think it is beautiful. 

"This one is gorgeous, Gabi. You have great taste. I'll go bring it to the room to try on next."

After looking through more dresses and grabbing some, you were ready to return to the dressing room. Miguel also walked back inside, looking frustrated. Of course, as soon as your eyes met his, his demeanor softened, and he smiled lovingly at you. You walked up to him, caressing his cheek. 

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, just a few annoyances have come up at work. I need to get back to them so they don't do anything stupid. I'll see you this evening." Miguel kissed you, which you happily returned before he hugged Gabi goodbye and walked out the door.

After trying on almost all the dresses, Gabi picked out the last one. Tears prick the corners of your eyes when you see yourself in the mirror as a smile graces your lips.

"This is it. This is the one."

......

8 months before the wedding

"Here are the invitations and the lists for where they go." You slide over the different 'Save the Date' wedding invitations to the postman.

"I love the design of the cards. Very elegant."  The man smiled as he happily took the invitations and address list. 

The bell to the door entrance rang, signifying someone had entered. The person who had entered walked up right next to you, his hand on your lower back. 

"Everything all done here, Hermosa?" 

"Yep. Just finished now. Was Gabi able to make it to soccer practice?" 

"She did. Jumped out herself and ran straight to the field where her friends and coach were." He chuckled.

"Aw, she's growing up too fast. She did that the other day when I took her to her friend's house for her play date. Let's get her favorite takeout for tonight. " 

"That sounds like a good idea." A buzz came from Miguel's watch, and he saw Jess's name pop up. "I'm sorry cariño. I have to take this call." Miguel kissed the top of your head. 

"No worries. See you outside." You gave his hand a love squeeze before he left to answer the call. 

"Everything is all set. One thing I just have to say.  Damn girl, you really snatched up a fine man." The man winked at you as he fanned his hand against his face. 

"He sure is an amazing man. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him." 

You left the post office with a smile on your face. You saw Miguel in the driver's side of his car, still on the phone. You quietly entered the passenger side, trying not to disturb his call. 

A few minutes later, his call ended, and he sighed. 

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just the same everyday stress I have to handle." You place your hand on his knee as you lean towards him and kiss his neck before whispering, "How about when we get back home I can help relieve some of that stress."

Miguel's eyes widened, and a smirk rested on his lips. Instead of driving straight home, Miguel turned the car into an indoor parking garage. It was an underground garage that goes quite deep into the Earth. 

As soon as you reached the lowest levels where no car were in sight, you turned to look at him, confused by the sudden detour. "What are we doing here?" You chuckle as you see him park in the corner. When he turned off the car, he moved the seat back. 

"Come here, cariño." He gently patted his lap. With a smile, you exited the car and went over to his side, where he opened the door for you. You easily get on his lap as you wrap your arms around his neck, capturing your lips with his. One of his hands trailed down from your back to your ass, squeezing your cheek while closing the door. You gasp, letting his tongue slip past your lips. The door is now closed, and his now other free hand goes to your ass. He pushes you closer against him as your tongues explore the familiar parts of each other's mouths. 

Miguel grunts as he feels you rub yourself on his hardened crotch. Too impatient, he moves you slightly back, unbuckles his belt, and unzips his pants before taking out his glorious thick cock.  

"Guess you couldn't wait to get to the bedroom." You giggle when you see him send you a playful glare as his lips mark your neck with kisses and love bites. 

"You were teasing me all day. You're lucky I didn't do anything at the store when we registered for gifts." Miguel's lips kissed up to your ear as he lowered the straps of your tank top, revealing your uncaged breasts. "You know I can't last minutes without being nestled deep inside your walls when you act like that."

You chuckled at his needy words as he brought his lips towards yours into a heated kiss as you unbuttoned his shirt. You slowly dragged your hand down his chiseled tan chest before your hand wrapped around his cock. 

"I swear. Your wish would be to be inside me 24/7." You chuckle against his neck as you kiss his sweet spot. 

Miguel groaned impatiently as he lifted you and not so gently guided himself inside of you; a gasp from your lips as your reaction and a beautiful sound Miguel would never get sick of.

 "Well, that wish will come true for two weeks after we tie the knot." He takes your chin, reddish-brown eyes staring down at you as he begins moving you on his cock. "And you'll officially become Mrs. O'Hara." He begins to quicken his pace, to which you even have to give him the full reins as his right-hand grasps your waist to give you the level of satisfaction you both desire. You never felt self-conscious about your riding skills, never with Miguel. He always knew when to say the right words and touch you in the right places. 

Of course, whenever you did feel a little subconscious about it, Miguel would just whisper in your ear, "A beautiful woman like you shouldn't have to pleasure a man but to have him pleasure you." 

From his sultry words in your ear to the cosmic pleasure ravaging your insides, you felt your knot come and release in an instant. 

Your euphoric high made your walls squeeze tightly around his cock. With the way he's been trying to paw down his boner all day long, he didn't mind releasing himself inside you so quick as long as he knew your needs were satisfied.

Miguel kisses your brow as you gently lean into his touch, both catching your breath. 

"I guess we need to head back to the house," Miguel murmured against your brow.

You look up at him with a suggestive grin as you brush back some strands of hair sticking to his forehead before caressing his cheek. "I think we can spare a bit more time." 

Miguel's grin widened, agreeing, "Be careful what you wish for, cariño." Miguel purred in your ear as he pulled the side handle of this seat, which made the car seat go all the way down.

.....

4 months before the wedding

You woke up at 4:45 am when your eyes finally adjusted to the light of your phone, seeing the time. You groaned out loud, annoyed with yourself for waking up so early. You never were an early morning riser, the opposite of your fiancé, who you know was downstairs in the home gym doing his morning workout routine. 

You were impressed by his strict early morning regimen. No matter how tired he was the day before, he always woke up at 4 am. He worked out until 6, took a shower, and was back in bed by 7 before you woke up at 8. 

However, this morning, you were awake. Maybe it was the nerves and pre-wedding jitters as the clock for your wedding was ticking closer to the date each day. Being too impatient to wait for Miguel to finish his workout, you decided to bother him. Of course, in his words, you never bothered him as he always loved you being in his company, embraced in his arms. 

Before heading to the basement gym, you put on pajama shorts and a tank top. You leaned against the doorway, admiring how your fiancé's muscles flexed as he lifted dumbbells. 

"Like what you see, Hermosa?" Miguel chuckled as he turned around. You bite your lower lip as you gaze over his sweaty physique. Your core grew tighter as you saw his biceps flex from the weights. 

"Mhm, maybe a little bit." You walk towards him, trying to hide your smile, but fail when you see his bright smile. You place your hands on his chest, gently moving them to his shoulders to rest. 

Miguel set his weights on the bench before returning to the same spot. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise when you feel his hands cupping your ass and pulling you closer. 

"Only a little? Will this change your answer?" His lips met yours in a sweet, loving kiss. "Though I'm happy to see you up early this morning, why are you awake now? Is everything okay?"

He cupped your face, concern growing in his eyes. 

"Yeah, you don't have to worry about me. I just woke up feeling nauseous and couldn't fall asleep, so I thought to come down here to keep you company."

"Are you still feeling nauseous?" 

"Yeah, but I probably just need to eat something."

"I'm sorry cariño. I'll go make you something."Miguel began to lead you both upstairs. You stopped, pausing his movements. 

"You don't have to do that. I'll grab something while you finish your workout." You tried to move from him, but before you could comprehend what was happening, all you could see was Miguel's tight ass in his workout shorts as you were now hauled over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

"Miggy. What are you doing?" You laughed as he began to climb the stairs to the first floor. 

When you arrived at the kitchen, he placed you on the counter and gathered the ingredients to make you an omelet. 

"You always come first to me. I can skip a workout to feed my fiancé."

When he stood close to you to chop vegetables, you leaned over to kiss his cheek in appreciation. 

You suddenly need to throw up when you smell the eggs on the pan. 

"I'll be right back." You hid your pale face with a smile as you headed back up to the master bathroom to empty your guts. Not hearing Miguel's footsteps behind you meant he bought your bluff, to your relief. 

When you began to feel better, a thought passed your mind, and you suddenly felt sick again. 

Flushing the toilet and turning on the faucet, you lean your upper body against the sink. You slowly sink your body to the ground in front of the cabinet. Opening the doors, you grab the box for wandering thoughts like the one now currently plaguing your mind. 

As you were anxiously waiting for the haunting test on the sink, you lifted your top to reveal your stomach in the mirror. You took an intake of breath without exhaling as you realized the very subtle baby bump. You quickly went to the test, eyes wide, as you saw the positive mark.

You go back to the kitchen downstairs and see Miguel just plating the food. 

"Your food is ready."

"Thank you for making this for me, honey. But I lost my appetite because...well...this." You show him the pregnancy test. 

Miguel sits down on the stool, staring at the test in shock. He looks back up at you, a smile spreading across his lips. He shoots up from his seat and twirls you around excitedly before kissing you. 

"I know it's a lot sooner than you wanted. But I promise to be there every step of the way." 

"Honestly, after my accident and almost losing my chance to ever have kids. I'm completely fine with having one now."

"I'm assuming you held that information for a reason?" He chuckled.

"Of course I did. The second you found out I wanted to have kids, I don't think we would ever leave our bedroom until I was pregnant." You laughed. 

"You're not wrong on that, mi amor." 

You laugh with your fiancé as you are about to give him a sweet, loving kiss to celebrate your little discovery. However, your body says otherwise as you feel a wave of nausea hit you as you race back to the bathroom, followed by Miguel. 

The nausea only grew worse throughout the day. It wasn't helpful that the final tasting menu and your hair and makeup trial were today. Despite Miguel reassuring you that he could reschedule those events, you refused, as you were hell-bent on your wedding plans not being delayed.

Instead of you adventuring outside, Miguel made a few calls and could move everything to the house simultaneously. 

"So why the sudden location change?" Hummed Stephanie as she leaned on the kitchen counter, sampling one of the dinner choices for the wedding reception. You had called her over this morning asking for her opinion, which she was more than happy to do. However, when she saw your sickly-looking skin tone and your constant need to excuse yourself with Miguel looking anxious every time questions were raised in your best friend's mind. 

"It's supposed to rain all day today."

"Haven't see cloudless rain before. Must be something new." 

"Gabi was sick, so we needed to stay home with her." 

"Mama, I'm not sick." Gabi looks up at you, confused from the kitchen stool she was sitting next to you drawing. 

You look back to Stephanie with a nervous smile as she narrows her eyes at you. 

"Hermosa, I don't think you can hide it much longer," Miguel added.

"Oh, I could tell something was up when I first saw you today." 

You sigh as you look at Miguel, who is trying his best to hide his amusement. You look at your daughter, who is happily coloring. "Baby bug, would you like to tell Auntie Steph the big news?" 

Gabi smiled brightly as she held up the picture she was drawing. It was her, Miguel, and you with a round belly. 

"I'm going to be a big sister!"

Stephanie's eyes widen in surprise before she goes straight to hug you.

"That's amazing! Ahh, I'm going to be an aunt again! Congratulations, you too!"

You happily hug her back. " Of course, you can tell Jack. But is it possible for you and him to keep it a secret? Just until after the wedding. I don't think Miguel and I could handle the extra annoyances from the in-laws if they knew." 

"I totally understand Jack and I's lips are sealed."  Stephanie zipped her lips and tossed the invisible key away. "Now, do we all agree neither dish is perfect for your guys' reception?" Stephanie pushed the plate away.

"I've been waiting for someone else to say it," Miguel added as he dumped the food in the trash.

"From the smell of it, I can agree." Your nausea gets the better of you as you rush back up to the bathroom, followed by a worried and doting Miguel. 

Stephanie chuckled as she watched the couple rush up the stairs. "Your parents are adorable. Aren't they, Gabi?"

"Yeah! Am I adorable, too?"

"You are the most adorable." Stephanie booed Gabi's nose, making her giggle. 

.....

2 months before the wedding

"Everything looks good and healthy." The Doctor smiles as she helps wipe up the gel on your stomach. 

"How far along am I?"  

"You're three months along. Now, make sure to follow all these instructions." The Doctor handed you the paper, which you happily accepted before handing it to Miguel, knowing he would be more responsible for not losing it. 

"Do you have any questions?"

You chuckled when you saw Miguel take out his list of questions, which he had been writing down for the past few weeks since you had scheduled the Doctor's visit. 

Even though you have a daughter, neither of you have gone through the pregnancy process, making him act like a first-time and nervous father.

After letting Miguel ask questions for another 30 minutes, it was time to go. Bless the Doctor's heart for being so patient. Even your bladder couldn't handle it, leaving the room twice. 

You both get in the car as Miguel drives you to the bridal boutique. Ever since you both found out that you were pregnant, Miguel has been a little bit overprotective, if you were putting it nicely. 

Despite being the CEO of Alchemex, he was able to go to work only two times a week. And despite being dotting before, he is at your beck and call, whether that be driving you somewhere since he has been too nervous to let you drive while pregnant despite you telling him you were fine or getting you a glass of water every time you were thirsty. 

Miguel placed his free hand on top of yours, intertwining his fingers with yours. He glanced over at you with a heartfelt smile. 

"Are you still good to head to city hall after your appointment?" 

"Of course. I'm glad to be out of the house a lot today. I feel like I've been cooped up all week." You smiled back at him as you placed your other hand on your small baby bump. 

"Just double-checking Hermosa. I know the morning sickness has improved, but I wanted to ensure you were okay with being at city hall for a bit. Even with the expedited appointment, we might still be waiting." 

"I never thought you had to apply for a marriage permit." Your cheeks tinted pink out of embarrassment. 

Miguel chuckled as he lifted your hand intertwined in his and kissed your knuckles. 

"Don't feel embarrassed, mi amor. You're 22. I doubt you were thinking of getting married anytime soon." Miguel's fingers gently fidgeted with your engagement ring.

You chuckled as you squeezed his hand out of love. "Well, before us, I definitely wouldn't have imagined being a pregnant mother of a six-year-old getting ready to be married in two months to the love of my life." You look over at him as you take in his appearance. "And I wouldn't want it any other way." 

"I love you," he lovingly looked over at you. You leaned towards his seat and kissed his cheek.

"I love you too, Miggy."

After some time in the bridal shop, you say your goodbyes and leave to see your fiancé in the car working. You were relieved that the dress fit with plenty more wiggle room for when your stomach gets bigger. You were thankful for the bridal store's kindness for the sudden change so close to your wedding. You guessed it didn't help that you had told them as soon as you found out about your pregnancy, and maybe because of the extra sum given to have it done. 

Around 20 minutes later, you arrive at City Hall. When you get to the right floor for marriage permits, you internally groan when you see the long line going around the corner and down the hall. You hear Miguel sigh, which makes you smile, knowing he feels the same way. 

Another 20 minutes passed, feeling more like an eternity with your swollen feet, and the line barely moved. You felt Miguel wrap an arm around your waist as he brought you in front of him. He leaned against the wall before moving you to lean against him. 

"Lean on me, cariño," Miguel whispered in your ear. 

You look up at him: "Are you sure? You must tired, too."

He smiled lovingly down at you, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. "I'm perfectly fine. You're carrying our child. You must be tired from standing. Lean on me to relieve the stress in your back." 

You smile up at him as you get on your toes to give him a quick kiss and thank you before you wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him as you lean your head on his chest. You sigh in relief as leaning against him relieves some of your soreness. 

"Thank you, honey." You say against his chest. Your heart flutters when you hear the vibration of his chuckle before you feel him kiss the top of your head. 

"Anything for you, mi amor." 

Another 20 minutes went by, and it was beginning to become mentally painful to see how slow the line was going. 

"There you are, Mr. O'Hara." A man walking by stopped in front of the two of you, making you turn around. 

"Yes?" Miguel spoke.

"I've been searching the halls for you. I'm going to get you and Ms. L/n your marriage permit. I apologize for the delay. When the security checked you in, they should have sent you straight to me. Please follow me this way." The man gestured for you and Miguel to follow him. 

You look up to Miguel as you shrug your shoulders before following the government official. 

You enter an office that would be deemed very nice for a government-paid room. You sit and smile as tears threaten to spill from the relief you feel in your feet and lower back. 

"You know, for someone of my standing, maybe you should have been waiting at the check-in to bring us to your office and not depend on a security guard to do your job. Instead, my pregnant fiancé and I had to wait in line for almost an hour in an unconditioned building. You're lucky she didn't faint from the heat." Miguel's tone became serious, with an obvious tone of anger. 

Your fiancé's death glare alone could send someone into an early grave. Should you be scared? Maybe. But all you felt was how hot he looked doing it. 

"My deepest apologies, Mr. O'Hara. I can waive the fee for the permit." The official swallowed nothing, and his nerves were evident on his face. 

"That's not needed. I'll pay for it. Just do better for the next couple." 

"O-of course, sir." 

Thankfully, after a speedy process through all the paperwork, most likely from Miguel's glare going straight into the official's soul. 

"Bring this to the ceremony, sign it, and mail it in for it to be registered afterward. And that's it for here. Once again, I apologize for the earlier inconvenience. If you need anything from us, please don't hesitate to contact me. Here is my personal phone number." The man hands Miguel a paper with his number. "Have a lovely evening."

You and Miguel stood up from your seats to your dissatisfaction as Miguel led you out of the office. Once you left the building, Miguel sighed in relief. 

You turned around and placed your hands on his chest. 

"You were very impressive in there, Mr. O'Hara."

He placed his hands on your hips as he grinned down at you. "I try my best, Mrs. O'Hara." He leaned down for a kiss, but he stopped by your finger. 

"Not yet, your Mrs." You winked at him with a smile as you walked out of his grasp and towards the car. Miguel chuckled deeply from behind you. 

"I love it when you feisty Hermosa." 

.....

1 month before the wedding 

You mindlessly stared at the white wall as you lay in bed. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stop the tears as you felt another wave of pain in your abdomen. 

You heard voices from outside the bedroom door. 

"How was she today?" Miguel spoke in a whisper. 

"Nothing new. She's been in bed beside the few times she needed to use the restroom too well. You know. She still hasn't eaten anything. I'm worried about her. She won't listen to anything I say. Maybe you can get through to her today." Spoke Stephanie.

"Thank you for watching her and Gabi while I dealt with that emergency at work." 

"Of course. You know I would do anything for her. How have you been managing?" 

"It's been a hard two weeks. But I'm more worried for her. It breaks my heart to have her go through this. If I ever see that bitch Sofia... I probably would end up in prison myself for what I would do."

"Fortunately, she has been behind bars for a long time. I'll let you go in there. I'll help finish the seating chart and the remaining small details that still need to be done."

"Thank you for all the extra help you and Jack have been doing for the wedding. It means a lot to both of us."

You heard Stephanie say goodbye before you heard the door to your bedroom open. As the bed dipped, you felt arms wrap around you. 

You closed your eyes to pretend to fall asleep, not wanting to talk. 

Two weeks ago:

You stood in front of a corkboard with circles organized according to importance. You stared at the board for hours, figuring out where to place your parents. 

"Urgh. Should I place them at the main family table? I don't really want to interact with them. If they even decide to come to the wedding." You mumble to yourself out loud. You look down at Gabi lying on the ground, watching her favorite morning cartoons. You smiled at how adorable your daughter was.

"Hey, baby bug. Where should my parents sit at the wedding?"

Gabi stood up and walked right up next to you with her usual happy smile. You passed her your parents' little name tags as she took them and went to the board. On her tiptoes, she put your parents' name tags at the main family table. 

"When I have my wedding, I want you and Papa to sit right next to me." You smile as you see her go on her tiptoes to put the name tags in the right place on the board. Over the course of the time you've lived here, you've seen her grow so much already. You knew she would get some of her father's height from how tall she was now at 7.

"Perfect! Do you want to help with the gift bags?" 

Gabi's eyes sparked with excitement as she jumped up and down towards the dining room table. You chuckled as you followed behind her. After a few minutes of showing her what went into each bag and seeing her do one, you left her on her own while you went to the kitchen to make you and her lunch. 

You felt something unusual in your abdomen. Your hand went to your round belly, a smile coming to your lips when you thought it was the baby kicking for the first time. That happy smile quickly turned as you felt another sensation, but it was a sharp pain. Your hand clenched your stomach as the pain kept on coming. A wet patch forms between your legs, but when you look down, your eyes widen to see blood drip from your thighs to the floor. 

You grunted in pain as it became worse, making you collapse to the ground before you could grab your phone. 

"No, no, no, no." You cried out loud in pain. This couldn't be happening. On that day, Miguel had to go to work. 

"Mama?"  Gabi walked into the kitchen. When she saw you lying on the floor in pain, you saw her face scrunch up as you saw her tears start to fall. She runs up to you as she kneels beside you. 

"Mama! You're bleeding! Are you hurt?" Gabi cried, scared for you. 

You gain enough strength to caress her face to try and soothe her. "I'll be alright, sweetheart. But something is not right with your brother or sister. Can...can..you...can you get my phone?"

Gabi nodded as she stood up and went to the kitchen counter. Getting on her tippy toes, she grabbed the phone. When she had it, she came back to your side and handed it to you. 

You start to feel your vision go in and out.

"Sweetie, you remember how we taught how to dial the phone?"

"Yeah." 

"Mama is having a hard time with her vision. Can you press 911 and then the green button for me?"

"Okay." You heard her sniffling as you tried to console her and let her know everything would be alright. 

You last heard a knock on the door before everything went black. 

You groaned as you awoke from what seemed like a deep slumber. You feel your hand in another's grip tightening slightly when you move your arm a little.

"Mi Amor?" Your fingers gently brushed against your cheek as you smiled, leaning into the warmth. 

"Miguel?" You start to notice your surroundings in a hospital. Once again... you sit up suddenly but are met with a stinging pain in your lower abdomen as you cry out in pain. 

"Y/n, don't strain yourself so soon. You have lost a lot of blood." Miguel sits on the bed next to you as he brings you into his loving embrace. You look at him and notice his tear-stained face and tired red eyes. You place your hands on his face, concerned about why your fiancé was so upset. 

The pain in your stomach and your fiancé's distressed face made tears fall down as you realized what had happened. 

"The baby...they're gone?" Even though you knew the answer, you hoped Miguel would reassure you. Instead, the pained look in his eyes worsened as he brought your head into the crook of his neck. 

"I'm so sorry."

You cried in his arms for the remainder of the Night until you passed out from exhaustion. Not once did Miguel leave your side as he stayed in the bed with you, consoling your broken heart. 

Nurses came in every hour to check your vitals and ask if you needed anything. It wasn't until morning that you woke up to see the Doctor walk in—the same one from the last time you were here.

That morning took a piece of your heart away when the Doctor explained to you and Miguel the cause of the miscarriage. Ever since your car accident and almost losing your uterus, it has become not the most suitable place for a baby to grow, and it would be very hard for you to carry out a full-term pregnancy. Pretty much tells you that you couldn't have kids. At least, that is how you took the news. 

"Y/n, please talk to me. You haven't left the bedroom in two weeks and barely eaten anything. It's breaking my heart to see you like this." Miguel whispered in your ear as he kissed the side of your head. 

You turn yourself to face him as you look up at him. You could see the bags under his eyes and how tired he looked. You knew he was grieving as much as you were, but still being strong to keep everything together, unlike you, who broke apart.

 

"Maybe you should marry someone who can give you and Gabi the family you deserve." You say barely above a whisper.

You feel strong hands on your face as he lifts your chin to look at him. Brown eyes are now serious.

" y/n, don't ever say something like that again. You are the only woman I love and want to marry and have a family with. No one else. And you know that is not true about your inability to have kids. You still can have children. We just have a few extra obstacles, and that's all."

"But what if I can't."

"Even if we never have a baby, we still have that little girl who loves and idolizes you more than her favorite sport. More than the world. Even more than me." He chuckled, which made you crack a small smile. He added: "We still have our little Princess and will always have her. And just having you and Gabi in my life is more than enough. I couldn't see my life without either one of you."

"I couldn't live without you and Gabi either. I think having little family outings and focusing on planning the wedding will help make life normal again." 

Miguel leaned down as he placed a sweet and loving kiss on your lips before smiling, "I couldn't agree more."

.....

The Night before the wedding

After a relaxing day of shopping and lounging at the pool with your bridesmaids, you're glad to be heading back to your room to rest and prepare for your big day tomorrow. 

Instead of heading to the elevators, Stephanie directs you to the bar area. Heading to the bar, she sits down, followed by you right next to her. 

"Two glasses of champagne, please." Stephanie smiled at the bartenders, who nodded with a smile at her request. 

You look at her in surprise that she ordered you a glass. " Steph, I'm not sure I'm ready to drink yet. I haven't had a drop since before finding out I was pregnant."

"I know it's only been a month since you lost the baby, but it's the night before your wedding. The champagne is barely alcohol. Plus you shouldn't have anything else so you can look your best tomorrow. But honestly. You could look like a train wreck, and Miguel would still think you are the most gorgeous woman on Earth."

You smile as you look at the glass handed to you. "You're not wrong there. You know this is the first time I feel completely fine talking about the miscarriage." You smiled. The bartender arrives with the glasses. Stephanie lifted hers towards you. Taking a deep breath, you smile as you pick it up and clink your glass with hers. "To the start of a new chapter." Stephanie smiled before taking a sip. You smiled, " To a new chapter." Before taking a sip. 

You noticed the time as you were chatting away about memories from your childhood or college. 

"Oh shoot, I guess I need to head to bed if I want to get at least a full night's rest."

"Good idea. You definitely won't be getting any during your honeymoon," Stephanie winked as she took another sip of her drink. "Oh, I have something to give you," Stephanie said as she grabbed a medium-sized box from one of her shopping bags. 

"Oh, Stephanie, you didn't have to do that. With everything you've done with planning the wedding. That's been an amazing gift."

"Of course, girlie. Anything for my BFF. Then let this be your post-wedding gift. I'll let you open it in private." Stephanie grinned before gently pushing the box to you on the counter. 

You narrowed your eyes at your best friend, wondering what she was up to before flashing her a smile. 

After saying your goodbyes, you made it to your bedroom. You sighed as you entered a quiet room. There is no sign of a warm, deep voice greeting you or a giggling voice in front of the T.V. in the other room before small footsteps come running towards you for a hug. You and Miguel wanted to be in a suite together as a family. But Conchata insisted you were in separate rooms. Even separate floors. You both agreed only because she stopped breathing down Miguel's back.

You sit on the bed, too big for one, and glance at the box Stephanie gave you. Grabbing it and setting it on your lap, you take the top off the box. Your cheeks go bright red once you lift the tissue paper. A card is placed on the intricate white silk lace lingerie. 

A little something to spice up the wedding night. It's not like the two of you need it, though; - ) 

-Steph😘

Your eyes widen as you lift the piece of clothing.

"How in the hell do you get this on?"

You notice another card fall out. Setting the lingerie back in the box, you leaned down to pick it up. 

Knowing you: Here are instructions on how to put it on.

You roll your eyes as you set the instructions on the bed. 

You were in the bathroom suite, trying to put these strings on your body right. You stopped midway as you looked at yourself and then at the photo, knowing you had already messed up. 

"How the fuck do I put this on?" You growled to yourself. 

You heard a faint knock on your door. Quickly getting out of it, "At least it's easy to take off."

Back in your comfy lounge, you head to the door, where you hear another faint knock, this time a deep voice followed by a young one. 

You smile as you open the door and see Miguel and Gabi looking very tan from being at the beach all day. While your bridesmaids whisked you away, Miguel and Gabi spent the day together. Although you love spending time with Steph and all your old friends, you would have liked to spend all day at the beach sitting beside Miguel while watching Gabi making sand castles or collecting shells nearby. 

"Mama!" Gabi ran in as she hugged you. You happily picked her up and kissed the top of her forehead. 

Miguel followed behind her as he closed the door. 

"Hola, Hermosa." Miguel smiled as he brought you close and gave you a sweet kiss on the lips. 

"Hi, you two. I thought I wouldn't get to see you both until tomorrow. I've missed you all day," you say as you walk to the sofa with Gabi and sit down with her on your lap. Miguel follows as he sits right next to you. 

"We missed you too! Especially Papa. He kept saying how much he missed you and wished you were with us."

"Can I not have any secrets kept from your mother?" He chuckled as he picked her up from your lap and tickled her. 

"Nope!" She squealed in laughter. "Mama, help me!" 

"Did you say tickle you too? Okay." You laugh as you also begin to tickle her. 

"No, mama, I said help me!" Gabi giggled as she tried to get away from the both of you. 

After a few minutes, you finally give your daughter her freedom, and she immediately hops off the couch and away from our reach. 

"Mama! I have a present for you! Papa, where's Mama's present?" Gabi said as she sat in between you and Miguel.

"A present? For me?" Your smile widens as Miguel hands her a rectangular envelope. 

"Here you go." Gabi smiled.

You look at the envelope as you see hearts drawn all over and in Gabi's handwriting:

To: Mama

Love: Gabi♥️

"I hope you like it." She smiled as she kept jumping up and down in her seat, and Miguel lifted her to his lap to stop.

"Aw, I bet I will, baby bug. I like anything you get me."

"But this present is extra special."

"Oh?" You gently open the envelope, careful not to tear it, and take out a folded paper. 

Opening it up, you read the first few lines—it was a government form. Tears began to brim the corner of your eyes as you read the first word at the top of the paper: adoption.

You looked at Gabi as tears began to spill. A wide smile made its way to your lips as you wrapped your arms around Gabi, brought her to your lap, and gave her a big hug. 

"Aw, Gabi. This is the best gift you could ever give me. Thank you." 

"I'm happy you love it, mama." Gabi smiled as she wrapped her arms around your neck. 

Miguel smiled as he brought you both to his side. 

"I guess the gift I have for you might not compare."

You turned to look at him, surprised by his words. 

"You got me something else?" 

" I did. But you can't know what it is until the morning. Are you fine with waking up really early?" Your smile widens from his mysterious words. You lean up to kiss his cheek. 

"I can't wait. Do you know what it is, Gabi?"

Gabi giggled as she covered her mouth and shook her head before she said, "I can't tell you. I pinky promised Papa." 

You brushed her hair behind her ears as you gave her a hug. "Oh, alright. I guess I'll just have to wait until morning then."

You all ended up getting cozy as a family on the bed, all in pajamas. Gabi sat between your legs as she watched the family-friendly movie on the T.V. while you braided her hair. 

"Pass me your other hair tie, sweetie." Gabi took the blue scrunchie with the charm of a soccer ball and handed it to you. "Thank you. Annnnd All done!"

Gabi looked at her two braids with a smile on her face as she turned around and gave you another hug. You lifted her to the covers and said, " Okay, it's time to go to sleep. We all have a big day tomorrow."

"Aww, do we have to? The movie isn't over."

Miguel pulls the covers over her to get her settled. "You can watch it from right here. And yes, we do. All three of us have to be up super early. Good Night, princesa." Miguel kisses the top of her head before turning off the light. 

As soon as the lights were off, your eyes suddenly felt heavy, and you fell asleep surrounded by the love of your life and your baby daughter. 

You awoke to the sound of an alarm. It was 4:30 am, and it was still nighttime outside. You got out of bed and went to freshen up in the bathroom. When you walked in, you saw Miguel holding a familiar piece of paper in his hand. You blushed as you snatched it out of his hands. 

"You aren't meant to see that until later today." Your reddened cheeks said it all as Miguel saw the box on the counter. You move in front of it, knowing what he was thinking. 

Miguel chuckled, "And what is it that I can't see until then?" His voice is still low from just waking up. He walks right up to you, putting his arms on both sides, trapping you between him and the counter. 

"Trust me. You will want to wait on this one." 

"I can't wait."

You smiled as he lifted your chin, leaning down to kiss your lips with a sweet, long kiss. 

"We're getting married today." 

"Maybe a lot sooner than you think. I have something for you in the closet." Miguel lets you free from your intimate trap as you go to the closet. You gasp as you see a beautiful, long white silk sundress with a low back and a few accessories. 

When you were finally dressed, including your hair and makeup, you walked back into the main area of the suite. You smiled as you saw Miguel wearing a nice dress shirt and pants. 

"Mama, look at my dress!"

You saw Gabi in a beautiful light blue dress, matching her father's shirt. 

"You look beautiful, baby bug." You pick her up as you twirl her around. 

"You look really, really pretty, Mama. You too, Papa!" Gabi smiled in your arms. Miguel placed a hand on your lower bare back, sending a spark up your spine. 

"We better get going. The boat is waiting for us." Your fiancé's words piqued your interest, and you looked up at him with a smile and a curious look.

"A boat?"

"You'll see soon enough, cariño." Miguel chuckled as he led you out of the hotel and to a car, the driver waiting for all of you. 

After a 10-minute drive, you were at the beach. You felt a beautiful peace, as the only thing you could hear was the beautiful song of the ocean. 

(Play here if you want😊)

Miguel took your hand in his, giving you a love squeeze. "You're going to love this, Mama!" Gabi smiled as she was skipping slightly ahead of the two of you. A few minutes walk on the beach on a dock before you saw a gorgeous small yacht decorated with hanging lights and music.

"Miguel, this...this is beautiful. What is it for?"

You both followed Gabi as she was already boarding the boat. When you got on the boat, you gasped at how beautiful everything was up close. The front of the boat was decorated with your favorite flowers, and the petals made a path to a small white pergola with a person standing underneath. 

The boat began to move on the water as you marveled at the beauty of The Algarve of Portugal from the water. 

"Now, can I know what the rest of this wonderful surprise is?"

Miguel turned to you with the happiest and most loving smile, his eyes showing just as much. He took both your hands in his.

"I know that the last month has been stressful. And not only the miscarriage but the stress of everyone a part of the wedding. I could see the stress and sadness in your eyes during the rehearsal with your parents and the annoyance of some of your bridesmaids. I know everything we have planned will be beautiful, and I can't wait to see you walk down that aisle later today and pour out all my love to you in front of everyone. But this is just for us. No loud noise. Let's get married right here. Let's have a memory of today that only the three of us will keep close to our hearts. I love you so much, Y/n L/n, that I want to marry you twice. Will you do me the honor?" 

You wrap your arms around his neck as you get on your toes—easier since you are wearing heels—and kiss him sweetly, giving your answer. 

You spent time in each other's arms, watching the moon begin to dip behind the horizon while watching Gabi play around the boat. 

"Hermosa." You can hear the smile in Miguel's voice as he gently calls out to you, waking you from your slight slumber. You were so cozy sitting beside him, keeping warm from the ocean breeze, that you dozed off on his shoulder. 

"It's time." You look ahead to this beautiful natural archway. When you look carefully, you see that it makes a heart shape. 

Miguel leads you to the pergola, where the official is with Gabi ahead, throwing more petals. He leaned towards you, his lips by your ear. 

"Locals say that if you kiss the one you love under this archway just as the sun rises and lights it up, the couple's souls will be connected forever."

Just as the sun begins to peak over the horizon, bringing the bright colors of the world, the official begins. Despite the beauty of nature around you, you can only look into the eyes of the man you love with your whole being. 

After the official says the words that bind you and Miguel forever, sunlight lands on the archway, and Miguel puts his hand behind your head and kisses you with all the love he has for you as you do for him. 

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara."

"I love you too, Y/n O'Hara." 

You spend the rest of the early morning having a celebratory breakfast as a family on the boat before returning to the hotel. Miguel takes you back to your room and places one last kiss on your lips. 

"I'll see you at the altar." He winked at you with a smile before he and Gabi returned to their designated room. 

After resting and bathing again, you heard a knock on your door, and a group of women were exchanging their words on the other side. 

You open the door in a robe. "Good morning, everyone." You smile happily. Miguel was right. This morning, all your stress and worries for today disappeared, as you already got what you wanted from today.

After you and everyone were ready, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes at how beautiful you looked. The dress your amazing baby daughter had picked out. The white gown was covered in a beautiful lace hat that hugged your figure perfectly to the ground, and the middle end of the dress was a bit see-through. The lace formed your shoulders, arms,  and chest just as the neckline dipped to show some of your cleavage. Your favorite part was the beautiful long and wide dress skirt hanging from your hips that covered the sides and back of your dress as it trailed down to the ground, along with a gorgeous soft white veil that went to the floor being held by a beautiful diamond encrusted headband as your hair flowed around your shoulders pulled back a little at the top to reveal more of you face.  

"Hey, no ruining my makeup masterpiece." Stephanie chuckled as she handed you a tissue. "But you look stunning. Miguel is totally going to tear up on that altar." 

You chuckled, as you had only seen your now secretly husband tear up a few times, so you weren't sure if he would in front of a lot of people.

 

Everyone walked out of the room and headed outside to the car. You smiled as you saw your father exit the driver's side of a beautiful silver-white vintage Rolls Royce. 

He walked up to you with a smile on his face. Only a few days ago, when everyone arrived in The Algarve, your father regretted everything that was said and done. He finally realizes how much you and Miguel mean to each other. It was when you had the miscarriage. He was the one who got you to the hospital as he was planning on visiting you that day to apologize. When he called Miguel and met him at the hospital, he saw all his anger for his friend dissolve and saw how much Miguel loved you. 

Of course, after that apology, you told him it would take some time to fully forgive him, but you were happy that the process was starting. Well, at least for one parent. You had asked him to escort you to church and walk you down the aisle, which he was more than happy to do. 

"You look beautiful." He said, which made you smile. 

"She didn't come and see me." You said to him.

"She's at the church. It wasn't smart for you to have seen her.”

"Do you think she'll ever come around?" You looked up to your father, hoping for a reassuring reply. " Let's get you to that church."

As the car takes you to the cliff where the church is, you smile as you see the locals congratulating you from the streets. When the car comes to a stop, your heart feels like it's beating in your chest, and butterflies begin to fly in your stomach. 

Your father gets out before going to the back, where he opens the door and helps you out. Stephanie and your other bridesmaids, who were in the car behind you, came up to you to make sure everything looked right before walking the remaining feet away to the church entrance. 

You saw Conchata and Gabi outside the entrance waiting for you. 

"Mama!" Gabi ran to you as you happily leaned down to hug her. "You look like a beautiful princess!" She added.

"Aw, thank you, baby bug. You also look like a beautiful princess in your flower girl dress." You did love her dress; it was a light pink silk dress, and the skirt puffed out a bit with tulle underneath. She wore her hair in a bun wrapped with a braid with diamonds on a pink headband. Similar to yours. 

"You look beautiful, my daughter." Conchata hugged you.

"Thank you, Conchata."

Conchata left to go inside to take her seat. And that's when the music began to play. The bridesmaids and their partners began to go in, with Jack and Stephanie being the last ones to go. Jack gave you a hug, saying, "You look amazing, y/n."

"Thanks, Jack."

You took a deep breath, clutching your bouquet tighter as you started to feel the nerves growing. 

"Just look at Miguel and no one else when you enter. It helps with the nerves." Your father smiled as he offered you his arm. You happily put your arms through his. "Thanks, Dad."

The main chorus begins to play, hinting that you should enter. You took another deep breath before you and your father entered the church. You marveled at the beauty of the interior, as it was all wood with flowers that matched your bouquet, which was placed perfectly on the ends of the pews and the altar. You saw Stephanie and Jack up there looking at you joyfully. You saw Gabriel standing on the other side with Gabi right before him. 

Your eyes finally land on reddish-brown as your heart grows bigger. Your smile widens as you keep them on him. You finally reach the altar steps as Miguel walks down to receive you. Your father takes your hand and places it in Miguel's. "Take care of her now. Which I know you've been doing. Thank you." Your father says to Miguel with a smile. Miguel looks at you and replies to your father, "I will."

As Miguel leads you up the altar, he leans toward you and whispers, " You look so beautiful. When I saw you walk down that aisle, it felt like I was falling in love with you for the first time."

You give his hand a love squeeze. "I felt the same too." You notice that tears are threatening to spill from his eyes. 

"Oh, Miguel." You gently wipe a tear from his face. 

"I can't help it, mi amor. You're just so beautiful."

The officiator began the ceremony. It felt like time was still going on, as you could only look at Miguel. Before you knew it, the officiator asked for the vows.

"Miguel, I am so happy that you swept me away from that random guy at the bar all those years ago in Miami. I'm so happy the universe reunited us to have that weekend not be the only time spent together. I am so happy and grateful to be a part of your family. I am so grateful to be loved by you and our daughter, and to you for bringing her into my life. The time I have spent with you has been the happiest days of my life, and I can't wait to continue having more happy years as your wife." You wipe away the tears falling down your face. Miguel moves closer to you, helps wipe away the tears, and smiles lovingly at you. 

"Y/n, mi amor. My sun and universe. When our eyes met across the bar, I knew you would be someone special to me. You have made my soul complete since you came back into my life. Every smile and laugh of yours makes my heart glow. I've been so lucky to wake up beside you every morning and be the person you see first thing every morning. I can't wait to do that every morning for the rest of my life." His words brought your tears back, which made both of you chuckle as he helped you again wipe them away. 

You looked up at him again as you put his wedding band on his finger, and he looked at you with so much love and desire putting on yours.

After a few more words were said by the officiator.

The words you've been waiting for...

"You may kiss the bride." Miguel grinned as he took your waist, brought you close, and kissed you. You placed your hand on his face to bring him closer, and tears ran down both your cheeks and his. 

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Cheers erupted from the pews as you and Miguel forced yourself to end the kiss. You walked down the aisle hand in hand out of the church, followed by everyone else.

After taking many photos with the hired photographer and getting dressed in reception attire, which was your gown minus the detachable wide skirt and veil, you kept the headband as a gift from Miguel. You loved how it looked in your hair. 

The reception was going off amazing. Everyone was happy, most likely because it was an open bar. You smiled as you gazed out into the ocean. The reception was on the beach under a gorgeous white and blue tent decorated to the nines with hardwood flooring and beautiful crystal chandeliers. 

You felt a hand placed on your own, turning your attention to your husband. Your brows furrowed when you saw concern in his eyes. 

"Is everything okay?" You smile as you give his hand a love squeeze. 

"Everything is perfect, cariño. I was wondering if you were okay? You haven't touched your food yet. Do you feel ill? Do u want me to have them get you something else?" 

You smile as you lean towards him and kiss his cheek, whispering, "I'm super happy. I'm just reminiscing about this morning." You lean back slightly to see Miguel's eyes fill with love. 

"I'm glad you liked the gift." Miguel caressed your face, took your chin, and kissed you. 

"I loved it. It was beyond perfect. And it made the rest of today so much easier." 

You hear a wine glass chime directing everyone's attention to the live band, where Stephanie and Gabriel now stood. 

"Hi, everyone; we hope you have been having a fantastic time." Stephanie smiled as she lifted her drink, causing the people around her to clap and cheer. 

"As the maid of honor, I must come up here and talk about my bestie, Y/n. And this speech has not been seen by her, so I'm sorry if I embarrass you a little. But it's all out of love." Stephanie blows you an air kiss, which you laugh as you catch it and blow a kiss to her. 

"I have known Y/n since we played little league soccer at 4. We sat on the grassy field, munching on the grass while the other kids ran around with the ball in their hands. And that's when two troublemakers became inseparable. Going on adventures for hours, flirting with older boys, and getting into mischief at the neighborhood barbecues. And god, we were worse when we finally got our driver's license. But that made the adventures even more exciting. Especially that trip to Miami. I found a hookup to get over an ex and you found love. When I saw you and Miguel together for the first time at that breakfast, I knew it was something special. Maybe neither of you knew it at the time. But the way you looked at each other wasn't just lust; it was love. And oh my god. When you came to our room the day of our departure, you left before he woke up. I swear I wanted to strangle you for how ridiculous you were for doing that. When we arrived at that neighborhood barbecue after returning from Europe, we were sleep-deprived and saw Miguel again. I knew you two were fated to be together. And I'm so happy to have gotten to know you, Miguel, and Gabi. I'm thrilled and happy to take the role of the fun Auntie. Congratulations again to Miguel And Y/n O'Hara." Stephanie raised her champagne glass as everyone clapped and cheered. When Stephanie left the stage, you walked over to her and gave her a hug as you wiped away the happy tears.

" Now, the speech my brother has been waiting for." Gabriel chuckled as he winked at Miguel. Miguel face palmed, and he swore in Spanish under his breath. You laughed lightly as you wrapped your arm around his and rested your head on his shoulder. 

"Miguel, you have been the best big brother and man this world could ever have. For as long as I can remember, you have always been there to help and support me and anyone who needed it. I know you always wished for someone to be there for you even though it was hard with your position; you didn't know who to trust. But I'm so happy you found someone who lights up your day. Y/n, thank you so much for filling that missing piece of him. You two will have many happy years together because you were meant for each other. To the happy couple." 

Once again, everyone clapped and cheered, and when Gabriel sat down next to Miguel, he hugged him in thanks. 

"Mama?" You and Miguel looked to see your daughter standing between both your chairs.

"Hi, baby bug. Are you having fun with the other kids?"

"Yeah! I'm happy that you and Papa found each other and that became my mom. You're the best mom in the whole wide world." 

"Aw, Gabi. I'm so happy and grateful to be your mom. You're the best daughter in the world." You have her sit on your lap as you hug her. 

"I love you, mama." Gabi hugs you tighter.

"I love you too, my baby bug."

As the day turned into the night with food, drinks, and dancing with your husband and daughter, plus your favorite part when you and Miguel cut the cake, you both put frosting on Gabi's nose as she had done to the both of you.

It was time for you and Miguel to go to the airport to catch your flight to your honeymoon. However, Miguel kept the destination a secret from you. After saying goodbyes, especially to Gabi, as she was returning to Nueva York with Gabriel as you wouldn't see her for two weeks.

You sat in Miguel's lap as the driver took you two to the jet. You both talked about today's highlights. 

When you arrived inside the jet, you noticed the stark difference between the one you usually take and this one. There were only a few seats and then a wall with a door. Was it storage? You were surprised when the air host walked you both to the back of the plane and opened that door, revealing a large master bedroom with a full-size bed. The air host said to press the call button if you two needed anything before leaving and closing the door behind them.

You were so stunned by seeing a literal bedroom and full-size bathroom on a plane that you were slightly started when you felt Miguel's arms wrap around your middle, bringing you against him as he kissed your neck. 

"A little surprised, mi amor?" Miguel chuckled. You turned around to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him. 

"Just a little. Never would have thought I would be in a bedroom in the sky." 

"Well, let me make it worth your while." Miguel's lips met yours with passion and desire. He quickly turned you back around to unzip your dress. As it fell to the ground, he looked at what you were wearing underneath. 

"Was this my surprise from earlier today?" Miguel pulled you closer to him by your hips.

"It is. Like it?" You grin up at him.

"Oh, I love it." Miguel lifts you up and gently tosses you on the bed. He quickly takes his clothes off, leaving nothing to the imagination as he climbs on top of you.

He placed a sweet kiss on your lips before making his way down your neck and breasts, giving each nipple its deserved attention with his mouth, down to your stomach before he made it between your legs. You jilted up a soft moan coming out of you when you felt him nip your inner thigh. 

"I love it when your body reacts like that whenever I touch you." He mumbled against your thigh right before his lips met your clit. Your fingers immediately went through his hair as every sensation made you grip his hair and make his mouth work faster. 

You felt the jet's engine as it began moving, further increasing your pleasure. Your core tightened as you felt Miguel's tongue enter inside you. 

Your mind was half in reality, half on a euphoric high. Thighs tighten around his head as you come undone for the second time just from his tongue alone. 

Miguel lifted his body and positioned himself between you. He hovered over you, placing kisses along your neck to your ear and whispering, " I'm so lucky to have such a beautiful woman to call my wife."

Your hands go to his face as you bring his lips to yours, needing to taste him. He licked your lips, wanting to explore your mouth. You gasp as you feel his tongue enter your mouth while he fully thrusts himself into you. 

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as he begins his quick and swift pace inside of you.

"Miguel." You cry out as you claw at his back.

"Fuck you feel so good around my cock." Miguel growled as his pace grew faster, making you feel your core tighten again. 

He grabbed your hips and lifted you to his lap, giving him a new angle to fuck you in, making the tip of his cock hit in just the right place repeatedly. You cried out loud as you reached your high again. 

Your hands claw against his back as you have your arms wrapped around his neck as your head falls lazily to the side, letting him mark your neck with love bites. 

Going after your third orgasm, your cunt began to feel overstimulated as he continued to fuck you at the same rough pace. 

"God, it feels so good." You mewled out loud. Miguel leaned forward as he kissed your lips. 

"Only the best for you, Hermosa," He whispered.

Miguel continued to slam into you as his cock twitched, almost at its peak. You moaned out loud as you squeezed around him from your fourth orgasm. The sudden tightness around his cock makes him groan as he spills deep inside you, coating your walls white.

Your upper body lay on his lap in a sweaty state as Miguel continued to thrust inside you, becoming more sloppy as he came down from his sexual high. He kissed your brow, your nose, and then your lips. 

"I love you so much." He mumbled against your lips. He laid you down on the duvet as he laid next to you, brushing your hair away from your face. 

"I love you too, Miggy." You smile lovingly at him as you kiss his chin and lips. "I have another small surprise for you." 

Miguel looked at you with a curious grin, waiting to hear what you had to say. 

"I stopped taking my birth control. I still want to try to have a baby." 

You can tell your words made his day even more amazing. You knew after your miscarriage the thought of having another baby might be a while away. But ever since the miscarriage, the thought of having a baby became stronger with you. 

"You really mean that cariño?" 

You happily nodded with a smile. " I do." 

Miguel placed butterfly kisses all over your face before hovering over you. You look down and an imaginary sweat mark falls down your face as you see him fully erect again. He brought your open legs against him, smiling. 

"Ready for round two?"

———————————————————————-

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[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 6

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours 

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Here is another chapter cause I'm still writing out the other fics right now :)

Previous

Chapter 6: The Weight of Loss

Y/N’s POV

It’s almost comical how different my life feels when I’m at school compared to when I’m at home. At Pratt, I’m a student, focused, and driven, with an entire future ahead of me. The campus is buzzing with the usual energy—students chatting, the sound of sketch pads flipping, the hum of distant studio lights. But the weight of everything outside these walls presses down on me more with each passing day.

It’s been weeks or days since the breakup with Sukuna.The loss of our relationship feels longer than the time we actually broke up but it feels like the echo of it still reverberates in everything I do. I’m trying to push forward, trying to act like I’m okay, but the reality is… I’m not. I haven’t been okay for a while.

The work in front of me should be enough to distract me. Finals are coming up, and my portfolio still feels like it needs a hundred more hours of attention before it’s anywhere near perfect. But I can’t stop my mind from drifting back to that night—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me when he left, the pain in his eyes I couldn’t fix.

I sit in one of the studio rooms, surrounded by scraps of fabric and sketches, trying to focus on the design I need to complete for my final project. My hand trembles as I draw out another silhouette. It’s difficult to concentrate, especially when my phone buzzes on the table.

I don’t even need to look to know if it's from Utahime. She’s been checking in on me regularly. She doesn’t understand everything, but she knows enough to ask if I’m okay.

I pick up my phone, hesitating for a moment before responding. Yeah, I’m good. Just a lot of work to get through.

It’s a lie, but I don’t want to burden her with the truth. Everyone has their own problems, and I don’t want to be the one who drags them down.

I scroll through the texts, my heart dropping when I see a message from Toji. It’s just a short note, nothing particularly alarming. Sukuna's in the hospital. He’s okay, but he had a breakdown. You might want to check on him.

I read it three times before I let it sink in.

Sukuna’s in the hospital.

I bite my lip, the sting of old wounds coming back. What’s going on with him? Why does everything feel like it’s falling apart? I don’t even know how I feel anymore. I spent so much time loving him, fighting with him, then pushing him away, only for him to spiral deeper into whatever this is. And now, he’s in the hospital… alone?

I don’t even have the right to care, do I?

I put my phone down, my hands running through my hair as I try to make sense of it all. What should I do?

There’s a knock at the door, and I look up, startled. Utahime enters with a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiles when she sees me but then stops when she notices the look on my face. She doesn’t even need to ask.

“Something’s wrong,” she says gently, placing the coffee down in front of me.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Sukuna’s in the hospital,” I say quietly. The words feel so surreal coming out of my mouth.

Utahime doesn’t speak for a moment, just nods, as if she knew this might happen. “You’re thinking about going, aren’t you?” she asks, her voice soft.

I shake my head, my chest tightening. “I don’t even know what I’d say to him, Utahime. I—” I stop, the emotions threatening to spill over. “He played with my feelings, and I let him. I gave him everything, and now... now look at us.”

She sits next to me, her presence comforting. “You don’t have to go to him if you’re not ready,” she says, her hand gently brushing mine. “But don’t ignore what your heart is telling you. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in anger or pride, but if you care about him, and you think he needs you—maybe you should go. Just to know he’s okay.”

I stare at the coffee in front of me, the steam rising gently. I feel so torn. Part of me wants to throw it all away and run to him, to make things right, but the other part is terrified of what that would mean.

“I’m just… so tired, Utahime. Tired of trying to fix everything,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t think I can keep doing this. I don’t want to keep getting hurt.”

She leans back in her chair, giving me space. “You don’t have to fix him. You just have to decide what’s best for you. It’s okay to care about him, but it’s also okay to take a step back. You don’t owe him anything.”

I nod slowly, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. If anything, it feels heavier.

As much as I want to ignore the message, as much as I want to pretend everything’s fine and keep moving forward, I know deep down that the story isn’t finished yet. But the question is, how do I make peace with it? How do I let go of the part of me that still wants him in my life?

I guess I’m going to have to figure it out, even if it hurts.

I stare at the message from Toji, my thumb hovering over the reply button. I could feel the tension building in my chest, the pull to cave in and see him, to check on Sukuna, to offer whatever comfort I could. But I can’t. I won’t.

I text back quickly, trying to keep my answer as firm as possible, even though doubt gnaws at me. Yes. I’m sure.

I put my phone down and take another sip of the coffee Utahime bought for me. The warmth soothes me, but it’s not enough to quell the rising discomfort I feel. Maybe I’m running away from something I should confront, but every time I think about him—about everything that happened—my chest tightens. I know I’m not ready to face him.

Mei Mei sits beside me, her usual confident and laid-back demeanor a welcome distraction. She smiles at me, her eyes bright despite the obvious tension in the air. “I heard you’ve been dealing with some drama,” she teases, nudging my shoulder playfully. “You always seem to attract it, huh?”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Yeah, it seems like it. Just trying to get through finals without any more drama.”

She leans back in her chair, clearly not convinced. “If you say so, but I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s bothering you.” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not fooling anyone. What’s going on?”

I set the coffee down, rubbing my forehead. Mei Mei’s known me for years. She doesn’t give up easily, especially when it comes to stuff I’d rather keep to myself.

“It’s… complicated,” I say, sighing deeply. “Sukuna’s in the hospital.”

Mei Mei’s expression softens. “Hospital? What happened?”

I explain the basics—the fallout from our breakup, his breakdown, and the fact that it seems he’s been spiraling for months. As I talk, it feels like I’m peeling back a layer of myself I’ve been trying to keep hidden.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I continued, my voice shaking slightly. “But now… I just feel like I made it worse.”

Mei Mei listens, her face serious. When I finish, she doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at me for a long time, her eyes calculating, like she’s trying to figure something out.

“You can’t keep carrying his weight, Y/N,” she says gently, her tone softer than I expected. “He’s not your responsibility anymore. I get that you care, but sometimes stepping back is the healthiest thing you can do—for both of you.”

I nod, trying to hold it together, but her words sink deep into my chest. I know she’s right. If I keep going back to him, trying to fix things that aren’t mine to fix, I’ll just keep breaking myself in the process. But knowing that doesn’t make the choice any easier.

I reach for my phone again, checking for another message. There’s one from Toji.

Y/N, I know you’re upset. I get it. But you need to understand he’s really struggling. He’s not the same guy anymore. Please, just think about it. He’s not okay.

I feel the weight of the message, the silent plea in his words. It almost makes me want to go. But no. I made my decision.

I turn my phone face down, looking back at Mei Mei. “I’m done with it. I need to focus on my future. On me.”

She smiles, a little proud of me. “Good. It’s about time. You’re a strong woman, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

I lean back in my chair, feeling the exhaustion from the last few months hit me all at once. Finals are coming, and I don’t have the luxury of letting my emotions run the show anymore. I have to finish this. For me.

But even as I sit there, I can’t ignore the small ache in my heart, the part of me that still cares, that wonders what could have been. For a fleeting moment, I let myself imagine a different reality, one where everything with Sukuna was easier, where we were happy and I didn’t have to make these impossible decisions.

But that’s not my reality. Not anymore.

Toji's POV

I stare at the screen of my phone, Y/N’s last text still lingering in front of me. Yes. I’m sure.

The words hit harder than I expected. I knew she wasn’t going to just drop everything and run to Sukuna, but hearing it from her directly… it stings. She’s shutting him out, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Nothing any of us can do.

I glance over at Sukuna, still out cold in the hospital bed, his breathing steady for now. He’s been through hell these past few days, and I hate to admit it, but I’m worried. Despite all his bullshit, the bravado he puts up like a fucking wall, he’s broken. And it’s not just the aftermath of Jin’s death or the guilt he carries around like a fucking anchor. It’s more than that.

I thought, maybe if Y/N came, it would snap him back. But she’s not coming.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. The room feels too quiet now, even with the constant beep of the heart monitor in the background. The silence between me and Sukuna is almost deafening, and I can’t shake the sense of impending disaster that hangs in the air.

I think about what Y/N said—how she couldn’t keep carrying his weight. And part of me gets it. She’s right. I told her before that Sukuna wasn’t the only one who needed to get his shit together, but I guess… I didn’t expect her to walk away. Not like this. Not after everything.

I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if we’d all handled this differently. If we had talked more, not let everything fester. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to make that decision. Maybe Sukuna wouldn’t be lying here, broken and lost. And I wouldn’t be standing here, feeling fucking useless.

Sukuna murmurs in his sleep, his hand twitching slightly, and I look back at him. He looks so different when he’s not putting on that mask. I can see the fear, the guilt, everything he hides away in his waking hours. It’s all on display when he’s vulnerable, like this.

He whispers something under his breath, and I lean in closer, straining to hear him.

“Y/N… I’m sorry…”

His voice cracks, soft and fragile. He doesn’t even know I’m here. Doesn’t know I’m watching him break down piece by piece. But I heard it. He said her name.

It’s fucking killing me to watch him like this.

I stand up, running my hand over my face, trying to shake off the weight of everything. I can’t do this. I can’t fix this. No matter how many times I try to tell myself that this is his fight, not mine, I can’t stop feeling like I’m responsible. We all are.

I check my phone again. Y/N hasn’t replied. I don’t expect her to. She’s made up her mind, and honestly, I don’t know what I would say if she did respond.

All I can do is sit here and wait, hoping that Sukuna pulls himself out of this hole he’s dug. He’s going to need all the help he can get, but I’m not sure I can even be that for him anymore.

I glance back at him one last time before walking out of the room. Whatever happens next is out of our hands. I just hope for his sake, he’s not too far gone to fix it.

I step out of the room, needing some space to breathe, even though the weight of everything is still pressing down on me. My phone buzzes again. Another message from Y/N. I don’t look at it. I can’t. Not right now.

The hallway feels emptier than usual, and I’m just about to sit down when I hear footsteps approaching. I glance up, already knowing who it is before I see their faces. Gojo’s impossible to miss, his presence like a fucking storm in the calm. And right behind him, Geto, walking with that same quiet intensity he always carries. They're holding bags in each hand, the smell of fast food wafting into the air.

Gojo gives me a lazy grin like he's just come back from a fun afternoon instead of dealing with a pile of shit that’s only getting worse.

“Got you something.” He waves the KFC sandwich in the air, the crispy fried chicken peeking out from the wrapper. “Figured you could use something real to eat. You’ve been looking like you’ve been living off hospital snacks.”

I glance at him, but I’m not in the mood for a joke. I just stare at the sandwich for a second before nodding. “Thanks.”

Geto just raises an eyebrow and slides a bottle of cold Coca-Cola into my hand. "It’s cold. Thought you could use a little sweetness with all this shit."

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I take the sandwich, unwrap it, and take a small bite. The taste is oddly comforting, and for a moment, it feels a little bit of normal. But only for a second. My mind is still a million miles away, locked on Sukuna, on Y/N, on everything that’s been happening. I can’t seem to get a grip.

Gojo leans against the wall casually, clearly unaffected by anything going on, while Geto remains quiet, eyes focused like he’s waiting for me to crack. The silence stretches, uncomfortable in its own way.

"Is he awake?" Gojo asks, breaking the tension, his voice light but his eyes searching mine for an answer.

I take another bite of the sandwich and sigh, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Yeah, but he’s not really there. Talking in his sleep… saying her name. Y/N."

The mention of her name hangs in the air for a moment, and I watch as Gojo’s expression shifts slightly. He doesn’t show it often, but I know he can’t be completely oblivious to what’s happening. Not with how tightly he and Sukuna have been bound, even when things were rough.

“I’m sure he’s just… in his head,” Gojo says after a pause, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly struggling with his own thoughts. “He’s got a lot of shit on his plate.”

Geto’s expression hardens slightly. “He’s not the only one, Gojo. Y/N’s been through her own hell. She’s not just some side character in his story. It’s never been that simple.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gojo mutters, though he doesn’t seem entirely convinced by Geto’s words. He glances back at the door where Sukuna lies, still deep in his own turmoil. “We all know what happened between them. It’s fucked up, but that doesn’t change what he’s going through.”

The words cut through the tension like a blade. I swallow the rest of the sandwich, my stomach growing heavier with the implications of their statements. The more I think about it, the more it feels like we’ve all fucked up in our own ways. We’ve all allowed this to spiral out of control, and now, we’re left picking up the pieces.

“I get that he’s hurting,” I say, voice tight, “but what do we do now? What can we even do? She’s not coming, Gojo. She’s done.”

The words feel bitter in my mouth, even though I know they’re true. Sukuna has lost her, and there’s no going back.

Gojo and Geto exchange a look, the silence dragging on as the weight of the situation settles in. Gojo pops the cap off his own bottle of Coke, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You just keep pushing forward,” Gojo says after a moment. “You don’t get to wallow in this shit. That’s not how it works, Toji. You just keep moving forward. That's all you can do.”

I’m about to respond when I hear a low murmur coming from Sukuna’s room. The door creaks open slightly, and I glance toward it, the worry clawing at my insides again. Gojo stands up and gives me a pointed look.

“Let’s go see how he’s doing,” he says, voice more serious now, and I can hear the weight of his words.

We all walk to the room, our steps heavy with the unspoken truths we’ve been avoiding. Inside, Sukuna stirs in the bed, his eyes barely open but wide enough to see the panic in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he whispers, almost like a prayer, his hand gripping the bed sheets tightly.

The room feels cold as we stand there, watching him struggle with the demons only he knows. His words hang in the air like a knife, cutting through the silence.

“Maybe we can fix this,” Gojo mutters softly, more to himself than anyone else. "But not like this."

I watch Sukuna’s face, the same man who used to be full of fire and rage, now broken. Maybe Gojo’s right—maybe we keep pushing forward. But even I know, with everything that’s happened, there’s no easy fix to the mess we’ve created.

Sukuna's POV

I’m trapped in the in-between, stuck in the land of the awake but not living. I can hear them talking, but my mind refuses to connect. Every word that escapes their lips feels like a blur, and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about Y/N or Jin or my own damn self.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor is the only thing grounding me in reality, reminding me that I'm still here, still breathing, even if it feels like everything else is slipping through my fingers. The voices swirl around me, but none of them cut through the fog in my mind. Not even Gojo’s voice, not even Geto’s.

Y/N. 

Her name lingers in the air like an echo I can’t escape. It’s all I can think about. How I fucked things up. How I hurt her. How I lost her. I can’t get away from the image of her, standing there in her apartment, looking at me with those eyes—those brown eyes I used to drown in. Eyes that no longer saw me the same. Eyes that were filled with pain.

My stomach churns. I want to scream, but the words catch in my throat.

My younger brothers.

Yuuji. Choso.

I’m supposed to be their older brother. I’m supposed to be strong for them. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t afford to lose them, too. But if I keep spiraling like this—if I let this guilt eat me alive, if I let my demons drag me under—then what happens to them? What happened to me?

I’m supposed to protect them, but I’m barely holding myself together. I can’t keep breaking like this. I can’t keep letting everything fall apart just because I don’t know how to deal with the shit that’s happened.

I’m supposed to be better. Better for them.

But how? How do I fix this? How do I fix myself when everything feels broken beyond repair?

I hear Gojo again, his voice louder this time. "He's just... lost in his head right now. We can't help him until he helps himself." It’s all I need to hear to understand that I’m not getting any sympathy here. Not from any of them. They know me too well.

And maybe that's what I need.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to block out the pain. Maybe if I don’t open them, I won’t have to face the reality of what I’ve become. A broken man. A fuck-up.

But the truth is, I can’t run forever. I can’t stay in this fog of regret and self-loathing. I don’t want to be this version of myself. Not for my brothers, not for anyone. I’ve been here too many times before. Spiraling, falling, too afraid to face what’s staring me in the face. I’ve always been this way. But I can’t afford to be anymore.

I can’t let myself be the reason they lose me. Not when I still have a chance to fix it.

I hear Geto’s voice again, softer this time. "Sukuna... we’re here. But you need to come back. Come back to us." His words hit me harder than I expected, and I feel the weight of them pressing down on my chest. Come back to us.

I’m not sure how, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself feel something other than numbness. A crack in the wall I’ve built around myself. A tiny opening to a possibility that maybe—just maybe—I can still get out of this.

But first, I have to face the one thing I’ve been running from.

I have to face myself.

“Y/N,” I whisper to no one in particular, my voice hoarse, rough. "I'm sorry."

I don’t expect anyone to hear it. Hell, I’m not even sure I believe it yet. But it’s the first step. And for now, that’s all I can give.

I open my eyes slowly, squinting at the harsh fluorescent lights above. The hospital room is sterile and unfamiliar, and for a second, I forget where I am. But then it all comes flooding back—the weight of my actions, the destruction I’ve left in my wake, and the realization that I can’t keep hiding from it.

I don't even remember when I said it, but those two words still echo in my mind: I'm sorry. They were the first words I’ve said aloud in what feels like forever, but they carry so much weight. So much guilt.

I sit up slowly, feeling the ache in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s from the panic attack, the guilt, or just the overwhelming sense of being broken. But whatever it is, it makes it hard to breathe, to think. To feel.

Gojo is still here, his presence just as obnoxious as ever. But there's something about him being here that gives me a sense of stability like maybe he doesn’t expect me to be perfect, but he’s still here, regardless. And Geto... Geto is just sitting there, staring at me like he’s waiting for me to get my shit together. Maybe he’s right. Maybe they both are.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "How did I get here?"

Geto looks up from his phone, catching my eye for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’ve been here, Sukuna. You know the drill. You need to pull yourself together, for them.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. He’s tired, I can tell. We all are.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice cracking. "For them."

It’s a mantra I’ve been repeating to myself for weeks now—for them. For Yuuji and Choso. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t be the one to break.

But I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to fix this. How do I rebuild what I’ve destroyed? How do I fix myself when I’m not even sure who I am anymore?

Gojo leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re not alone in this, you know.” His words are blunt, but there’s something softer in his eyes. He doesn’t say it often, but I can see it. The understanding.

"I know." I don’t meet his gaze, my eyes locked on the floor. It’s easier that way. “But I still fucked up, Gojo. I messed it all up.”

Geto sighs heavily, shaking his head. "You didn't just mess it up. But that doesn't mean it’s over. You’ve got to take responsibility for it, man. For her... and yourself."

For a moment, I don’t know what to say. The words feel like they’re stuck in my throat. But then I think of Y/N. Her face, her eyes... the way she looked at me when I ruined everything. I see her pain in every single interaction we had before it all came crashing down. I can still feel it. The way she’d retreat from me, the way she’d pull away. And the way I never truly let her in.

"I didn’t mean for it to go like this," I finally whispered. "I never meant to hurt her."

“You need to talk to her, if she’ll allow it” Geto says, standing up and moving closer. “And if she’s willing, maybe... maybe you can fix it. But you have to start with yourself first.”

I feel the weight of his words, like he’s trying to lift me out of the quicksand I’ve been sinking into. But I’m stuck. I’m stuck in the guilt, in the shame, in the regret.

“What if she doesn’t want me back?” I ask, barely above a whisper. "What if I’ve already ruined it too much?"

"You won’t know unless you try," Gojo says, stepping forward. “You can’t undo the past, but you can at least try to make the future better. For her. For you.”

I feel something shift inside me, something small but significant. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s just the desperation that’s been eating away at me. I don’t know. But it’s there, and for the first time, I let myself feel it.

Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe, just maybe, I can start rebuilding—starting with myself. I have to try. For Y/N. For Yuuji. For Choso. For me.

I stand up, feeling the weight of my body shift. My legs feel weak, but I force myself to stay upright. Geto watches me carefully as if waiting for me to collapse, but I don’t. Not this time.

I might not have all the answers, but I know one thing for sure.

I’m done running from it.

“I’ll fix it,” I murmur, barely believing the words myself. But I have to say it. I have to believe it.

For the first time in a long while, I don’t feel so alone. Maybe I’m not as far gone as I thought. Maybe I can still fight my way back from this.

Maybe I can still be the man I used to be.

the nurse filled in, "We tried to contact your emergency contact yn ln but they didnt respond. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?

The nurse’s words hang in the air, thick with unspoken tension. I feel the room grow heavier as they linger, and I find myself grasping for a response. Y/N’s name still feels like a foreign sound on my lips.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. What would I even say? She won’t answer me anymore. Not after what I did. The silence stretches between us, suffocating.

"I have—" I start, but the weight of it stops me.

Before I can finish the sentence, Toji speaks up, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife.

"You can take my information. What do I need to know?"

I look up at him, and for the first time in what feels like days, I feel a bit of relief. Toji, as blunt as he is, never lets me down. He’s been here since the start, and I know, deep down, he’s always had my back, even when I didn’t deserve it.

The nurse nods, taking out her tablet and entering Toji’s information with practiced ease. It’s almost like they’ve done this a thousand times before, and maybe they have. Maybe they’re used to people like me. People who screw up their lives and end up here, needing a reminder that they’re not completely gone yet. That there's still a chance.

But I don’t know if I believe that.

I watch the nurse leave, and the silence settles back into the room like a heavy blanket. Toji stands there, looking at me with something between concern and resignation. He doesn’t need to say anything. I know exactly what he’s thinking.

"Stop blaming yourself," Toji finally says, his voice low, but firm. “You're not in this mess alone, and you’re not gonna fix it overnight. But you’ve gotta stop running from it, or you'll end up buried.”

I can feel his eyes on me, watching for any sign of weakness, but I can’t give him that. I can’t give anyone that. Not after everything.

"I know," I mutter, my voice barely audible.

Toji shrugs and moves to the side, making space in the small hospital room. "We all fucked up, Sukuna. But it’s not the end of the world. You’re still here."

The words settle somewhere deep inside me, somewhere I didn’t even know was still capable of feeling something. I look away, pretending the words don’t hit me the way they do.

But I can’t stop thinking about Y/N.

Her face. Her eyes. How she would look at me when I failed her. The way she pulled away.

I failed her.

But I still want to fix it. God, I want to fix it so badly that it hurts.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that. I’m not sure if it’s even possible. But for the first time in months, I feel like I can try. I have to try.

For me. For her. For everyone I’ve hurt.

“Thanks,” I say to Toji, my voice gruff and unsteady. "For doing this... for me."

He doesn’t respond right away, just gives me a sharp look like he’s waiting for me to crumble again.

But I don’t.

Not this time.

Instead, I stand up slowly, feeling the weight of my legs beneath me. There’s no escape now. No more running from my mistakes. No more hiding. I have to face this.

And maybe... just maybe, I can start with making things right.

For once, I don’t feel like I’m completely drowning. But the battle is far from over.

"I’ll make it right," I say softly to myself, more than to Toji.

The words feel fragile like I’m trying to piece together a shattered mirror. But I have to try.

I won’t be the man I used to be. I can’t go back to that.

But maybe, just maybe, I can be someone worth loving again.

For Y/N. For everyone I’ve hurt.

And for myself.

I’m finally being released from the hospital. The sterile white walls feel like they’re closing in as the nurses hand me a prescription for the medications I’m supposed to take. But I don't care about that right now. I just want to go home. I just want to breathe again.

The ride back to the apartment feels like it takes hours. The air in the car is heavy with the weight of everything I've done, everything I’ve messed up. I haven’t spoken a word the whole way. Toji’s driving, the only sound between us was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the road beneath the tires.

When we get to the apartment, I’m not sure what to expect. The door’s wide open when I walk in, and there’s Choso, pacing back and forth. His voice rises, sharp and full of frustration as he glances over at me. His eyes are bloodshot like he hasn’t slept in days, and I know it’s because of me.

"Sukuna!" Choso shouts, throwing his hands up in the air, his face a mix of anger, pain, and worry. “What the hell were you thinking?! You scared the shit out of us, man!”

I flinch at his words, the sting of them going deeper than I want to admit. But I don’t say anything. I don’t have a defense, not for this. I can’t make it better with a few words. So, I stand there, silent, my head hanging low.

Yuuji’s sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes glued to the floor, his friends Megumi and Nobara beside him, looking as stressed as he is. The weight of it all crashes into me. I did this to them. I’ve been selfish, and it’s clear they’re carrying this burden with me.

Yuuji finally looks up, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm glad you're home, bro."

His words don’t hit me like I expect them to. Instead of feeling the relief I thought I’d get from hearing him, I just feel hollow. I’ve caused too much damage to fix it with just a few words. He shouldn't have to say that. I shouldn’t be the one causing him so much pain.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” I mutter, the bitterness slipping out before I can stop it. "It’s not like I’ve been some fucking good example for you, right?"

Toji steps up beside me, his presence grounding. “That’s enough,” he says, his tone low but firm. “He’s home, and that’s what matters. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

Choso doesn’t let up though, his hands on his hips as he glares at me. "You’ve been running from everything, running from us, from yourself. We were worried you were gonna fucking end up dead, and now you’re back, but are you even gonna stay back?"

I want to answer him, to tell him that I’m trying, that I’m going to get better. But I know he won’t believe me. None of them will. Not after everything.

"Look," I say, my voice thick. "I’m sorry. I’ve fucked up, and I can’t fix everything in a day. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere right now."

It’s all I can offer, and I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got. I can’t be the man I was before. I can’t just wipe away all the mistakes I made with a simple apology. But maybe I can try to be better.

Yuuji stands up slowly and walks over to me. I brace myself, waiting for him to yell, for him to say something harsh. But when he reaches me, he simply pats me on the back, like he’s trying to offer something I don’t deserve.

“It’s good to have you back, Sukuna,” Yuuji says quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing. I don’t know if I’m crying or not. But it sure feels like it. Maybe this is the first step in making things right. Maybe not for everyone, but for me, for Yuuji, for Choso... and Y/N.

The tears come without warning, falling like a flood. I feel them before I even know they’re coming, a warm rush down my face, blurring my vision. I can’t stop them. Not anymore. I’ve been holding everything in for so long, trying to keep the pieces of myself together, trying to be the strong one for my brothers. But I can’t do it anymore.

My knees give way, and I drop to the floor, the weight of everything—of all the things I’ve lost, of all the things I’ve fucked up—crushing me. My chest aches, tight, like it’s too small to hold all the guilt, all the pain.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter through gritted teeth, though I don’t know if I’m saying it to Choso or Yuuji or even myself. My voice cracks, the rawness of it is unfamiliar and painful. “Jin’s gone because of me... and Grandpa... he’s gone. They’re both gone.”

The tears come faster, like a storm I can’t outrun. I can’t hold it together anymore. Not for anyone. Not for them. Not for myself.

I hear Choso’s footsteps, feel his arms around me as he pulls me up, but I don’t want to be touched. Not right now. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear, to not have to face any of this, to not have to be the one who let them all down.

“Grandpa's funeral,” I whisper, my voice ragged. “Our parents didn’t even show up. They didn’t care. They never did.”

The words sting, but it’s the truth. The truth that I’ve been running from for years. Our parents left us. They abandoned us, and the only one who was there, who gave a shit, was Granpa. And now he’s gone, too.

“I’m tired of holding this in,” I choke out. “I can’t keep pretending to be the fucking strong one. I’m... not strong. I’m broken.”

I look up at Choso, and his face is pale, but his expression is gentle. I can see the hurt in his eyes, but there’s something else there too: understanding. He knows. He knows what it’s like to lose, to feel like you’re drowning in your own shit. And maybe he’s the only one who can truly get it.

I look over at Yuuji, and his face is full of concern. He’s standing in the corner of the room, silent, but I know the words are there, sitting heavy on his tongue. He doesn’t need to say anything, though. The fact that he’s here—just here—means more than words ever could.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I say, my voice low and broken. “I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to let everyone down. I don’t want to keep losing people.”

But I’m scared. Scared of what it will take to fix all this. Scared of how much of myself I’ll have to break in the process.

“I’m so fucking tired,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. 

Choso pulls me close, his hands gripping my shoulders as if he can somehow hold me together. “You don’t have to have it all figured out, Sukuna. We’re here. You’re not alone in this. You never were.”

His words hit me like a lifeline, but the truth is, I don’t know if I deserve it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the person they want me to be.

But I know one thing: I can’t keep drowning in my own shit. I have to try to be better. Even if it’s just for a little while.

I’m home. But the journey to redemption? That’s just the beginning.

[heartmachinez]

Heart Machine is on Patreon!

Why are we on Patreon?

Games are the greatest form of expression and entertainment that we've ever created. There’s a common saying in games development that it's a miracle that any games are made, let alone good ones. Now, it’s even more brutal.

Over the past two years, the industry has rapidly changed, flipped around and turned upside down. Funding for new projects is sparse, even for successful devs. Everything is far more expensive to make. Paths we used to be able to take to create projects no longer exist.

You’ve likely heard about this on some front. It’s grim. 30% of all games developers have either been laid off or had their roles significantly reduced or affected over the past year alone. Studios have closed. Many have left. We at Heart Machine are not immune, having gone through layoffs in November of this year.

Since the old models are not enough, we have to adapt. So we're asking for support to help us continue to not just survive, but adapt and thrive. To help us prototype and build new projects, to help support us when the state of the industry has made it so much harder to exist.

We've always been big on talking directly to our audience. We think this Patreon is an opportunity for us to do more on this front while also benefiting.

There are a few key goals we have in mind for this Patreon:

1. To give a more thorough and deep insight into our process and what it takes to make games. Sharing exclusive write-ups, videos, concept art, design documents and prototype gifs from all of our projects past and present.

2. To share more about the issues in the industry driving this state of turmoil. E.g. corporate consolidation, overspending, accelerating costs, and a changing market.

3. To reach a bigger audience with more transparency in an otherwise notoriously opaque industry in the hope we can share and do our part to help others to better navigate and survive.

We all love games. We’re here because it’s an industry driven by passion. But it’s never been easy. We've been making titles we are extremely proud of for 10 years now, and we want to make sure we can stick around another 10.

Approaches like this Patreon are part of what it takes to make sure of that, to get through the toughest times and come out ultimately better.

We hope that you enjoy the content and inside access that we’ll be providing here.

Thank you so much for your support.

[psychhound]

✨ crit awards ✨

so, as some of you may know, the crit awards, an open-voting ttrpg award show, has just opened nominations!!

from now until april 30th, there are open submissions to nominate games and creators, and then for all of june, people vote on who they want to be the winners

i have a decent number of games that are eligible for nomination this year! you're not allowed to nominate yourself, though, which is why i must humbly request that if yall really like any of these games in particular, to fill out the nomination form so that i might have a chance at some awards :)

categories i'm eligible for ...

best solo game

i have quite a few for this one!!

with breath & sword - a game where you utilize real grounding & breathing techniques as the oracle to fight monsters while calming down from anxiety attacks

the narrator paradox - a one-page game where you play a narrator trying to wrangle your defiant protagonist back into the story

the graveyard game - a for truth's sake game where you write an ethnography about a magical, haunted graveyard

you are thinking about silver - an autofiction lyric game about my family being werewolves during a childhood memory

song a scene - a playlist-driven writing game that fits on a bookmark

she shall not be raised a fey - a bookmark game about revisiting your changeling child

best one page game

i have a couple of these too!!

the narrator paradox - (see above)

also my three horseshoe system games!! this is a system designed for quick & evocative but medium crunch character creation (at least for a one-pager), fast paced and twisty one shots, and big endings!! i also really like the graphic design in them :)

interstate 10 1/2 - a light horror Weird roadtrip across america

the pyrite bullet - a spaghetti western one last mission game

crescent grin - an eldritch horror noir detective game

best GMless game

small towns, BIG SECRETS - a 200 word game for the minimalist jam about your horrible secret being revealed to your fellow townies, run on competitive coin flips

best supplement

how high! - a system agnostic setting zine of a rapidly developing fantasy industrial city ruled over by a pack of wolf gods descending into madness (ie what if 1880s denver, colorado was real fucked up)

you can submit nominations here until april 30th!!

being nominated would be super cool :D if anyone wants to nominate some of my games i super appreciate you!!!

also, if you haven't gotten a chance to check them out before - these games are on sale rn!!

[notwiselybuttoowell]

Climate whiplash is already hitting major cities around the world, bringing deadly swings between extreme wet and dry weather as the climate crisis intensifies, a report has revealed.

Dozens more cities, including Lucknow, Madrid and Riyadh have suffered a climate “flip” in the last 20 years, switching from dry to wet extremes, or vice versa. The report analysed the 100 most populous cities, plus 12 selected ones, and found that 95% of them showed a distinct trend towards wetter or drier weather.

The changing climate of cities can hit citizens with worsened floods and droughts, destroy access to clean water, sanitation and food, displace communities and spread disease. Cities where the water infrastructure is already poor, such as Karachi and Khartoum, suffer the most.

Cities across the world are affected but the data shows some regional trends, with drying hitting Europe, the already-parched Arabian peninsula and much of the US, while cities in south and south-east Asia are experiencing bigger downpours.

The analysis illustrates the climate chaos being brought to urban areas by human-caused global heating. Too little or too much water is the cause of 90% of climate disasters. More than 4.4 billion people live in cities and the climate crisis was already known to be supercharging individual extreme weather disasters across the planet.

Rising temperatures, driven by fossil fuel pollution, can exacerbate both floods and droughts because warmer air can take up more water vapour. This means the air can suck more water from the ground during hot, dry periods but also release more intense downpours when the rains come.

“Our study shows that climate change is dramatically different around the world,” said Prof Katerina Michaelides, at the University of Bristol, UK. Her co-author, Prof Michael Singer at Cardiff University, described the pattern as “global weirding”.

“Most places we looked at are changing in some way, but in ways that are not always predictable,” Singer said. “And given that we’re looking at the world’s largest cities, there are really significant numbers of people involved.”

Coping with climate whiplash and flips in cities is extremely hard, said Michaelides. Many cities already face water supply, sewage and flood protection problems as their populations rapidly swell. But global heating supercharges this, with the often ageing infrastructure in rich nations designed for a climate that no longer exists, and more climate extremes making the establishment of much-needed infrastructure even harder in low income nations.

The researchers have worked in Nairobi, Kenya, one of the cities suffering climate whiplash. “People were struggling with no water, failed crops, dead livestock, with drought really impacting their livelihoods and lives for multiple years,” Michaelides said. “Then the next thing that happens is too much rain, and everything’s flooded, they lose more livestock, the city infrastructure gets overwhelmed, water gets contaminated, and then people get sick.”

Sol Oyuela, executive director at NGO WaterAid, which commissioned the analysis, said: “The threat of a global ‘day zero’ looms large – what happens when the 4 billion people already facing water scarcity reach that breaking point, and the food, health, energy, nature, economies, and security that depend on water are pushed to the brink?”

[thirstkanaphan]

Ateez Title Track Tournament!

As we wait for a new bombshell to enter the villa, we will vote to determine the top Ateez title track!

These 21 title tracks have been seeded according to their streaming numbers on Spotify. Because there are an odd number of tracks, some of the top-seeded tracks will have a first round "bye" and automatically advance to the next round.

Also in Round One: Pirate King vs. Treasure, THANXX vs. Turbulence, Work vs. Eternal Sunshine, The Real vs. Ice On My Teeth

Round One: Hala Hala (13) vs Illusion (20)

Hala Hala (Hearts Awakened, Live Alive)

“The way Hala Hala’s pre-chorus just builds and builds and the chorus suddenly drops out from under your feet is designed for one purpose only: to rock your world. The song flips on its head in just about every way imaginable…the pre-chorus sounds so full of hope and ambition..it’s like the bright-eyed protagonist of some epic story…the chorus on the other hand has an entirely different vibe it's prowling and cynical and sinister in the way that it describes passion in this terrifying all-consuming and destructive way…. all of this put together: the anti-drop, the flip stylistically, the flip lyrically… it creates this beautifully terrifying picture that subverts expectations in just about every way possible.” LINK

Illusion

llusion is another example of ATEEZ taking overused genre tropes and strengthening them with the infusion of their colorful, dynamic personality. In some ways, Illusion is a straightforward hip-hop track, complete with aesthetically-driven autotune that smothers almost every moment. And yet, it all comes together to create an appealing ATEEZ package... Even looking past the autotune, the track is delivered in a freewheeling, slurred fashion, giving Illusion an off-kilter vibe that feels just unpolished enough to offer some grit. That quality is underlined by a percussive instrumental that warps in uneven angles like a ramshackle carnival ride. LINK