My name is Giulia. I am 23 years old. Born and bred in the Capitol. Academy Graduate and took my Bachelor’s degree in the Capitol University. I am loyal to Panem and my husband. I truly enjoy posca and reading, I spend most of my time doing the latter when I am not too busy attending galas. Coriolanus encourages a good hobby. He spoils me rotten but running Panem steals most of his time. During my leisure, I write. You can find my works in the library. Oh, and any misjudgement or error committed in my part does not have to reach the President’s office, I shall invite you to have tea and cakes with me, if so.
It was barely after sunrise but the Zenin estate was already buzzing with life. The servants starting their day early to run errands and prepare breakfast for the Zenins. Chiyo and Aku are both in the kitchen already, heating up the water that you need for the tea that you'll be serving to your husband.
"Good morning, Lady Zenin." Chiyo and Aku greets you with a bow.
"Good morning!" You chirp while taking the kettle from Aku. "Thank you, Aku."
"You're welcome." The woman smiles at you, making you beam at her in return.
Chiyo clears her throat and Aku ducks her head quickly, making her bright red bangs to fall from the pins that held it together. As Chiyo turns around to get the tea leaves, you and Aku share a look and giggle amongst yourselves, and you so loved her smile, her cool gray eyes gleaming with happiness. Not all servants in the Zenin estate has the luxury of finding joy in this household.
"It's alright really. I would like it very much if you see me as a friend rather than just a lady to serve." You say while taking the tea leaves from Chiyo to start preparing your husband's tea.
The older woman frowns at the idea but you see only concern and no malice. "Lady Zenin," she begins, "as nice as it is for you to say that, I have been here for a long time and that will not do us any good. And I hate for them to have a reason to make your stay here difficult."
You gently place the teapot lid after taking a whiff from the tea, humming in satisfaction before taking a hydrangea from the pile of fresh flowers on the table and you twirl it in your fingers before scooping up the rest to place on the tea tray. You meet Chiyo and Aku's worried faces with a bright smile.
"If I have two good friends here, then how bad can it be?" you pick up the tea tray, carefully balancing it with both hands. "I'll be off now. I shall see you in the gardens later."
Aku quickly slides the shoji open for you and you whisper a quick 'thank you'.
The walk to your room was quick, free from pausing to acknowledge any member of the family. The servants were also helpful in keeping to the side, bowing gently with their heads.
Although you chuckle when a scrawny young man, holding unkemptly folded linens, quickly scrambles to open the shoji for you, making you lean back when he gives you a forty-five-degree bow.
You clear your throat to attempt a more formal voice. "Thank you..."
He lifts his head and you watch his eyes widen, a soft blush coating his freckled cheeks. "Yu...Yuuma. My name is Yuuma, Lady Zenin."
You smile at his reaction, making his face erupt in a deeper shade of red. "Well, Yuuma, you have my gratitude for opening the shoji."
"Of course, Lady Zenin." He bows deeper, clutching the linens that look like they were about to fall off.
Careful to not make a sound, you head inside your bedroom, as Yuuma gently closes the screens behind. You pause when you see Naoya sprawled out in bed, with an arm throw on his face, the blanket barely covering the tufts of golden hair peeking from his pelvis.
With a shaky breath, you place the tea tray on the nightstand, gaze flitting back to your husband who, when asleep appears to be an angelic creature as the sunrays seep past the thin window.
Until he opens his mouth.
"You gonna offer me my tea or what?"
You yelp, jumping in surprise. Your behind bumping into the tea tray. "Naoya-sama!" Some of the tea spilled into the pristine tray, much to your annoyance.
Naoya opens one eye to peep at you. "That should teach you not to sneak on people." He believed after the incident of him nearly choking you to death, you would have learned your lesson. He is yet to be correct in his assumption.
Your lips jut out, a mark of being crossed at him, as you place a hand atop your racing heart. Naoya sits up and motions for you to come closer with his finger doing a 'come hither' motion, you lift your kimono and the soft mattress sinks under your knees as you crawl closer to him.
"That was a month ago." You drape your body on his, he doesn’t even budge. "Forgive me."
Naoya hums when you place a kiss on his jaw.
The past month has been full of trials and errors from the both of you, and even though your husband was never fond of romancing you like how you first thought he would, you've come to realize that there are times when he doesn't mind if you shower him with affection when you are in the comforts of being alone and away from prying eyes..
"That, I can forgive, but is there a specific reason why you chose to wake me with all your clamoring outside instead of your usual greeting?"
Naoya leans on the headboard and you follow quickly, snuggling to him.
"I did not mean to."
Your voice sounds muffled with how you press your cheek on his chest for warmth. Naoya reaches for the tea, and you lazily trace his abdomen.
"My flowers are doing really well, I'm quite proud of them. Do you want to have an afternoon tea with me today in the garden?" You ask, tilting your head up to look at him, Naoya meets your hopeful eyes with his half-lidded ones for a moment before he sighs and sip on his tea.
"If you have a busy day, I would understand." You mumble.
"Good."
Keeping your mouth shut was best when he becomes dismissive.
Only the puffs of breath that Naoya make fills the silence, there is also an occasional chirping of birds and a soft whooshing of wind but it was tranquil, making your eyelids heavy. You squeeze your body closer to Naoya to leech off his body heat. He snakes an arm behind you and his palm rests on the flesh of your exposed thigh and softly caresses it.
At times like this, you like to pretend. Pretend to be just a normal couple somewhere in the countryside, in a small cabin far from his family, far from your duties, just you and him.
And you pretend that he loves you.
But the closest thing to affection that your husband give you seems to be always rooted from the flesh.
It didn't take long for Naoya to start kneading your thighs. Making you grumble for him stop, your delicate hand gently squeezing his wrist.
"What?" Naoya drawls, nose skimming your puffed cheek.
"I said I do not want to!" You said firmly as he bites your neck. "You called me a horrid name last night."
Heat continues to creep up on your face as you remember last night's event. Naoya was relentless despite you begging him for a break. His only response being, ‘it’s your job’, ‘need an heir’, ‘you’ll look so pretty swollen with my child.’
Naoya frowns as he tries to remember. "Slut?"
Your fingers quickly press on his lips to chastise him, "Stop saying that Naoya-sama. That is too vulgar." You gasp but your husband rolls his eyes and you take no offense when he called you a ‘goody-goody’ already used to his quips now.
A deep chuckle rumbling in his chest startles you, but before you could speak, Naoya grips you from under your knee and drags you beneath him. Your hands useless as you try to stop him from hiking your kimono up to your hips. Your legs flying to his sides in an attempt to push him away.
And Naoya stops, his large hands digging on your soft hips that had your pillowy flesh spilling between his fingers. His unabashed eyes stare down at your puffy lips before looking at you.
"Slut's too vulgar for you? What d'you wanna be called then? A maiden?"
You shake your head, bun coming undone. "Stop it! Naoya-sama please, last night we- ah!"
Your nails dig in his shoulder when Naoya spreads your lips. He laughs when he sees pearly liquid trickling from you. “A maiden no more.”
A scream bounces off the walls of your bedroom when your husband dives his head between your thighs, the tip of his tongue catching the fluid before sliding it back inside your folds.
He presses his face in your mound with a playful growl, making your eyes squeeze shut. Naoya hooks his arms beneath your thighs to pull you closer, you see the muscles on his back rippling as he hunches over you like a beast devouring his prey, and you bite your lip in embarrassment when you see angry red lines staring back at you. You might have to clip your nails later. Your mouth parts, heat spreading to your belly and legs as Naoya snaps his eyes to you while he nips on your bud sending a bolt of electricity that had your toes curling. You feel a tug deep inside your belly and your slick starts to flow abundantly on your puffy lips.
"There she is." He chuckles before placing a kiss on your bundle of nerves.
A garbled mix of his name and a moan escapes your lips, your fingers raking on his locks. Your thighs quiver when he sucks on your lips. His labored breathing and sinful groans had you feeling hot all over.
So close, you can feel it, the flame slowly consuming you whole and you fear that you might burst, close, so close
You moan out his name in distress when he stops, your confused eyes meeting his jaded ones, you cling to his arm when he pulls away, your kimono loosening up with your movements.
“Thought you said you don’t want it?” Naoya raises a brow at you, making you let go of him with such reluctance to rest your back again on the mattress.
You open your mouth to retort but you feel your nose stinging, and tears soon blurred your vision.
“Oh, is my little wife crying? Didn’t get to finish?” Naoya coos mockingly at you. You nod your head, the kanzashi that he has given you falling to the mattress, and your hair tumbles down your shoulders.
“Then I suppose, I should help her then?” He moves to get on top of you, his warm hardness sinking on your plush tummy and his arousal leak from his tip and to your skin. And you hear a small rip from your kimono.
You nod at him again, eyes glassy with tears.
“Please! I promise I’ll never deny you again. Naoya-sama, please.”
And how could he say no when you ask so nicely?
The sun rose high up in the sky as you got lost in the push and pull of your sensual dance.
The estate bell soon resounded, its clanging threatening to make your ears burst but you never break your eye contact with Naoya. It was hard to do so when you are still drunk with the afterglow. You allow yourself to shamelessly stare at your husband, from the sharp cut of his eyes, to the elegant arch of his eyebrows, and to his lips. You wonder how they would feel when they don’t latch on your body, to instead, just press a gentle kiss on your lips.
Your husband seems to be avoiding you when you try to do so.
His eyebrows pinch together, his eyes remain passive, leaving you guessing of what he is thinking about.
“Naoya-sama, did I do something wrong?” You asked with your voice hushed.
His tongue darts to lick his lips, tasting you there. His eyes bore into you with such deep intensity and assessment. His bicep flexes underneath your head when you let your fingertips wander to the warm metal piercing on his ears.
“Did I fail to make you feel good?” You tried again even though your heart pounded hard, afraid of what you may hear next.
Naoya’s nose crinkles at your question. “Felt good, sure. You’re a good fuck,” you feel your chest tightening, “just a little too innocent.”
He gently pulls his arm and places your head on the pillow as he stood up to stretch. You sit up on the bed. Averting your eyes from his body, letting it drop to your lap. Your hands fisting the blanket as you bring it to your chest.
Naoya looks at you from his shoulder and his index finger scratches his head. “Listen,” you bring your eyes to him as he sits back down on the bed next to you, “don’t mull it over too much. Just never had a pillow princess like you before, ‘s all I’m saying.”
You’re not sure if that’s supposed to make you feel better.
You nod your head at him, attempting a smile. “I understand, Naoya-sama. If you would permit, I would like to rest here a little longer.”
Naoya can read your emotions like an open book but chooses to not say anything about it, instead he gives you a passive smile. “Of course. I’ll have the servants bring your breakfast here.” He kisses the top of your head. “Take all the rest that you need.” He pats your cheek before heading to the washroom.
You purse your lips as you think about what Naoya said. Should you go to a brothel? Have them teach you how to please a man?
The hydrangea from the tea tray catches your eye and you pull the sheets off you to drape Naoya’s haori kimono that he discarded the night before on your bare body.
You take a deep breath as his scent engulfs you. You don’t know how long you stood there, smiling like an idiot but you decide that its best to stop before your husband catches you.
The clay vase on your nightstand was cool under your touch, your nimble hands work on taking out the wilted hydrangeas to replace it with new ones. The tatami mat cushioning your bare feet as you step back to admire your work.
The washroom screen slides open and Naoya’s footsteps gets louder as he heads to your direction. His arm wrapping around you. “What are you doing in my clothes, thief?” He smells like sandalwood and soap and a certain musk you seem to really like.
He grins when you giggle. You’re not mad at him, which pleases him. He was worried he would have to win you with another gift to appease your mood. Your soft hands cup his cheek as you throw your head back to see him. His eyes are narrowed and strict but you know better than to believe it.
“You ripped mine.”
Naoya litters your shoulders with nips and kisses, replying with a hum.
“I should be heading out.” Naoya groans.
You let out a pleased sigh when he cups your breast from his open haori, guiding you gently until your upper body rests on the mattress. Your knees buckle, almost hitting the ground when Naoya places his body on top of yours, but he quickly holds your hips in place. You can only moan as Naoya leaves a trail of wet kisses on your back as his haori slips from your body.
You spend a good hour drooling over the mattress as your husband satiates his appetite.
In the garden later on that day, you sit with Chiyo and the twins as you enjoy the fresh air underneath a large willow tree. Your eyes brighter than usual, and your smile a tad bit warmer.
Chiyo watches you with curiosity, “you seem happier today, Lady Zenin.”
Mai and Maki raise their heads from the flower crowns that they are making to peer at you.
You flush at the sudden attention. “I…I am.”
Maki was quick to give you a disbelieving look. “You sure about that?” For an eight-year-old she is awfully perceptive. “You’re married to that nasty fox after all.”
“Maki, that is not a very nice thing to say.” You frown at her as you lower your own flower crown. “Naoya-sama is kind to me.”
She snorts, “Right.” If her mother heard her making such noise, the girl would have earned herself a pinch.
Mai gives her unfinished flower crown to Chiyo, who gladly continues it for her. Mai lies on her stomach as she rests her head on her palm, you laugh when she gives you a silly smile, her feet swinging in the air.
“Y/N-san,” she calls in a singsong vice, “do you love Naoya?”
Chiyo pauses, you can see her how her hand stops tying the knot of the flower crown, even Maki turns to you again. You clear your throat as you shift your legs from underneath you, feeling like the grass was digging too deep on your legs. But you know that you’re just trying to buy yourself some time.
“Naoya-sama, Mai.” You correct her as you take a blade of grass that was caught on her bangs. “My heart if his, my sweet.”
She seems satisfied with your answer nodding in response. Still, her eyes remained ever so curious. “How about Naoya? Does he love you?”
Your smile almost breaks as you feel your hands tremble. Naoya was not exactly the type of person that you expected to have as a husband while growing up. He was at times, the opposite of most things that you dreamed of, but he was different in his own way that still made your heart flutter.
But love.
You don’t know if he loves you.
Or if he will ever love you.
“I believe Naoya-sama is very fond of the Lady.”
You look at Chiyo who has a gentle smile on her face.
Maki scoffs, “As if that bastard could ever be fond of anybody but himself. Naoya’s only amused if there’s blood and killing involved.”
“Maki!” A voice behind you calls, there stood the twins’ mother, and she was not happy.
The twins visibly stiffen and you did not miss how Mai gripped Maki’s kimono.
You rise to your feet along with Chiyo to greet her.
She bows to you and glares at Maki who has a quivering Mai hiding behind her. You smile at their mother as you walk behind the twins before you smooth down their hair. “I was just teaching them how to make flower crowns, Zenin-gozen.”
Her glare was on Maki the entire time. “Of course.” She gives you a curt bow before snatching Maki’s arm in a tight grip and began dragging her away, the little girl stumbling to keep up. Mai looks at you helplessly before running after her twin.
You follow them with your gaze until they disappear around the corner.
“How could a mother treat her child in such manner?” Your mother would always talk your ear off but never has she tried to inflict physical pain, so did your father. “What exactly is going to happen to Maki, Chiyo?”
She looks at you, the wrinkles on her forehead becoming more prominent now. “There is no certainty, my Lady. But slander against the family is considered not dissimilar to treason.”
Your eyes widen in disbelief and fear for Maki. “She is but a child!”
Chiyo nods. “Which is why I suggest we keep this between us. We are lucky it was only their mother who heard. She is a cold woman but she would never let her daughters go through such punishment, but if word got out, Maki might receive more than just spankings.”
You shake your head, scandalized. “I would not be surprised if curses are born in this house.”
“That is how they raise children here, Lady Zenin.” Yet disapproval was evident on Chiyo’s voice. “It is still better than having them sent to the disciplinary pit.”
You turn to Chiyo, confused. “Disciplinary pit? I don’t think you have mentioned this to me before Chiyo.” You start to walk back into the house as Chiyo walks behind you, the unfinished crows held in her wrinkly hands. You stall in your steps to have her walk beside you.
“It is located near the cursed warehouse and armory, Lady Zenin. It is where the family keeps the curses.”
You glance at Chiyo to see if she was bluffing but you never really strike her as someone who lies.
“Why would they keep curses in here? Aren’t they supposed to be exorcised?”
The old woman nods. “They need them for,” she pauses to find the right word, “training and just like the name itself, discipline.”
Just how cruel is this family? Curses as a form of punishment.
You think of little Maki, often criticized for not having cursed energy. But what she lacks, she makes up with her spirit, and you admire her greatly for it.
As you turn in the corridors of the house, a distant yell reaches your ears, but before you could see, a large arm with scars crisscrossing on the thick skin stops you. You look to your left and see Jinichi Zenin.
You and Chiyo bow in greeting and he nods to acknowledge you.
“Use the other path.” His voice is gravelly as he spoke to Chiyo before he looks down on you, “I’m quite certain that the Lady will not enjoy the sight of her husband flogging someone.”
Your mouth falls ajar. “He would never!”
Jinichi’s laugh was cruel and guttural. It chills your bones. “Do you even know your husband, young lady?”
“I-” You cut yourself off when a particularly pungent stench reaches your nose, making your eyes water as it threatened to tickle throat to summoning bile. You can’t quite place what it is but it reminded you of a wet dog.
You are about to ask what it was but you notice that you have another company. Hidden on the shadows was a cloaked man, he appears to have no interest in speaking so you chose not to acknowledge him, not wanting to be rude.
“I will be off to see my husband. Thank you, Jinichi-san.” You say firmly, chin tilted up, making the man sneer.
You and Chiyo bow stiffly and started to head to the clearing. Naoya is cruel but he certainly would not have flogged someone himself would he? He is not as monstrous as they paint him to be. You refuse to believe it. But your breath hitches when you hear screaming in agony. You stall and swallow thickly. A bead of sweat spearing on your temple and sliding down.
Chiyo offers to take a different path but you shake your head and press on.
A man’s screams started to get louder the closer you got. Along the way, you pick up from the whispering in the crowd that it was a member of the kukuru unit who was guarding the treasury last night, apparently a hefty amount of gold was stolen.
Servants and the kukuru parted to let you pass, and you froze in your step, hand flying to your mouth as you watch in horror how your husband lands another hit on the man’s already bloody back.
His flesh was torn and you see a few bones peeking out as blood pooled at his feet, the very same blood that coated your husband’s hakama pants.
You take a step back.
That is not Naoya, you refuse to believe it. That man who was holding a bloody whip had a satisfied look on his eyes as he smiled sharply down at the poor soldier, you see the blood splatters on Naoya’s cheek but he only wipes it with his fist. Fist that had blood caked under his fingernails and painting his knuckles.
“He deserved it, any man who is unfit to serve should die.” Another member of the kukuru beside you murmurs to the person beside him. Your stomach sours as the people around him whisper their agreements to the statement.
You feel bile slowly rising to your throat.
“That makes a hundred. That should teach all of you a lesson.” Naoya bellows on the crowd, it disturbs you greatly just how he could manage to be proud for doing such a horrible deed.
You did not expect to see Aku there. She hands a towel to Naoya, and you wonder how she can remain straightfaced after witnessing such cruelty.
Is this how everyone in the Zenin estate is? Are the stories of how they are bloodthirsty demons true? Was everything that Maki said true?
The sound of the soldier’s labored and agonized groans drowns in the pounding of your heartbeat. Your chest heaving when you feel the air thinning out as men snickers about how the man deserved it all. How he should have been fed to curses. The ringing in your ears grow louder and louder.
“Wife.”
An all too familiar voice breaks you from your trance. All the colors around you mixing together before it singled out to the color of his eyes. Naoya reaches to touch your cheek, pausing for a moment when you recoil before cupping your cold pale flesh with his now clean hand. He leans down to try to get your frazzled gaze to steady on him.
He blocks the sight of the unconscious soldier when your eyes flit to him.
“What are you doing here?” He asks in a low voice. An attempt to a soothing tone. As if he was talking to a snared bunny.
Your words are stuck on your throat as your mouth runs dry. Naoya guides you inside the house, after dismissing Chiyo. Your feet are leaden, your body has warmth and cold warring as thoughts and questions echo loudly.
The image of the man kept returning to your head his agony making you break free from your husband’s hold as you steady yourself in the nearest wall, your arm clutching your belly when you double over, dry heaving.
Naoya holds your hand and rubs your back, it’s not doing anything but he cannot simply stand and watch you. He grits his teeth when he sees your face drained with color.
“Why did you have to come?”
You only duck your head, not wanting to acknowledge him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to shove the image of him whipping the poor man out of your head.
Tired of trying to help you walk, Naoya picks you up and moves in the direction of the infirmary.
He watched them check on you as you lay there, he was barking orders to anyone who stops moving even for a second, while you fade between consciousness and unconsciousness.
You try to turn your head when someone tries to check your eyes. You let out a shaky sigh when you see the blood on Naoya’s pants, breath turning uneven, praying that the image that you saw will ever leave your head.
“I believe the blood is making her ill, Naoya-sama.” The healer turns to Naoya, not backing down from his master’s withering glare.
But it only took one whimper from you and Naoya was already heading out and back to your shared chambers.
Naoya grits his teeth, his chest burning in rage for the failure of the servants to announce your presence. He would’ve chosen to exile the soldier if he knew you would be there to see.
The shoji almost rips with the intensity of Naoya’s maneuver. Yet he stops dead on his tracks as the wilted hydrangea that you brought that morning greets him. It wasn’t as radiant as it seemed to look in your hold, now it looked droopy and bruised, almost like it was hiding itself from him.
Why wouldn’t it? When it is faced with a monster such as him?
He will order for all punishments to be done with discretion from this day forward. Naoya hastily rips all his bloodied clothes to throw them straight to the trash, leaving the hamper empty. Making you see it is the last thing that he’d want.
He did not like it.
He did not like how you flinched away from him, how you looked at him like you did not know him, like you feared him.
“Fuck!” He punches the wall in anger. The skin on his knuckles split and his blood dripped to his palms as he clenches his hand to a fist, allowing his blood to paint the pristine tatami with abstract splatters of crimson.
He loved it when people are afraid of him. The look on their eyes just as he is about to take the life off them fuels something inside him and he reveled on it. But when Naoya saw it in your eyes, he was disgusted with himself.
It was dusk when you wake up.
Naoya straightens on his chair when he hears you shuffling around your shared bed. Murmuring in confusion of how you ended up in your bedroom.
Your bedroom that has its trash emptied, with no traces of crumpled paper splattered with jet black ink and blood soaked clothes.
Your bedroom with its new tatami mats replacing the worn ones that you have grown accustomed to.
Your bedroom with a freshly picked hydrangea on the vase by your windowsill.
“I carried you here.” He grumbles.
Naoya eyes the wrapped package on his desk as he waited for your reply, when he didn’t get any, he decides that getting over it quickly was better.
“Y/N, you’re no longer in your home. You’re in the Zenin household now.” He rises from his chair to study your face. “And we do things differently.” He sits next to you, just like what he did that morning. “Sometimes…we do things to keep the estate in line.” He continues but he still got no response from you. “They were necessary.”
You still refused to look at him.
Fine, he’ll try a different approach.
He places a neatly packaged item on your lap.
You glance at him before you hesitantly reach for it, he carefully watches your expression and felt relief wash over him when the smallest smile spreads on your lips.
You unwrap the sakura mochi to bite half of it, the texture and flavor still as good as the first one that Naoya had the chefs make especially for you.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, wife.” Your eyes meet his. “You have my word, you will not have to witness such thing once more.” Naoya reaches for your hand to brush his lips on your knuckles. “Forgive me?”
“You are very difficult to understand, Naoya-sama.” You whisper as you brush his stray hair away from his eyes. “You are often harsh, sometimes violent, but you are also very sweet and kind.”
He leans away to throw his head back in laughter before looking at you.
“I am never sweet nor kind.” And he means every word.
“I think you are.” You shrug. “And I shall only forgive you once you help me finish this.” You wave the half-eaten wagashi in front of him and Naoya bites his tongue to stop himself from giving you a clever remark before he throws you a calculating look and hesitantly opens his mouth.
You got your entire life to figure each other out, but for now, you will have to learn through trial and error.
Chapter Synopsis: You learn the truth of being a woman in the Zenin clan.
Warning: mentions of violence, misogyny, optimist reader
Word Count: 2846
Chapter 1
Since he was a young boy, it was always the estate bell that woke Naoya from his slumber. The incessant clanging of metal against metal always grating on his ears, but as he grew up, the sound became more bearable, expected even. Yet this morning, there was no resounding clanging, and he wakes up to voice in his room and a hand placed on him.
The unfamiliar sensation made him move in reflex as he snatch whatever was petting his face, his other hand flying to the direction of the assassin's neck.
But as the blurriness fade from his drowsy eyes, he was met not by an assassin but the startled face of his wife, who was simply trying to wake him with a sweet melodious voice and a soft caress on his cheek.
His back quickly leaves the bed to sit up, no trace of sleepiness on him. Naoya grips both of your arms, shaking you before yelling at your face. "Do you wish to die?"
Too shocked to talk, you can only gape at emptiness, your hand moving to touch your own throat that Naoya almost crushed, wincing as you felt it starting to bruise.
Hearing Naoya call your name made your focus snap back to his ire shrouded eyes.
You slowly shrug off his grip to offer him a shaky smile, not knowing what else to do.
Never has it come to you that he may respond with such viciousness, it made your heart quiver in fear as you see him more clearly.
"I apologize for...for startling you, Naoya-sama. I brou...I brought your tea." You say breathlessly, eyes turning glassy.
Naoya's eyes flit from your cracking smile to the table where a cup that had steaming tea in it sits. He run his hand down his face in an attempt to compose himself. "Where in the deepest depths of the Crimson Sea did you get the idea to sneak up on me?"
You swallow nervously when he glowers at you, nostrils flaring as he let out a sharp sigh, uneasiness made you drop your gaze to the sheets covering his thighs.
"Bring me my tea."
You quickly do as he says. Climbing off the bed to carefully hand him the tea, his eyes never left your face as you remain standing, keeping your distance from him, holding the tea tray while you glue your eyes to the floor.
"Have your throat checked by the healer." He mutters and you bow to him before scurrying out of the quarters. You slide the shoji close, and meet his eyes as he sips from his cup.
As you navigate towards the infirmary, your fingers hover around your bruising throat.
Naoya was just taken by surprise, that's all. He wouldn't really hurt you.
You smile at the servants that pause to bow, and you tell them to continue with their work. You ignore how their eyes linger to your throat for a moment.
As you arrive to the infirmary, your steps falter at the smell of blood and medicinal herbs, but just as your knuckles brush against the shoji, it slides open, and you come face to face with a beat-up guard, as you lower your gaze, you see how his bandaged hands are shorter than they should be and ends with a stump, he was not expecting to see you, it was clear with how his eyes widen and was quick to give you a deep bow. You didn't miss the fear in his eyes.
Your eyes follow the bloody hand that gripped the shoji open. "Get away from the Lady, scum!" You do a double take when the hand leads you to Ranta Zenin. You always think that the young man had a chirpy personality but perhaps you are wrong. His eyes held fury as he continues to look down on the poor man who was cowering before running off.
"I apologize for that, Lady Zenin."
You are tempted to ask him what it was about but you are starting to think that it's not too smart of a decision to make, he is still a Zenin after all. Ranta however, felt the need to explain. After all, he thought highly of you even though you're a woman. A poor fact to be glad about. You doubt you’d get the same treatment if you are not the wife of the heir of the clan.
"He tried to grab one of the twins. Claimed to just be helping Mai after she tripped but I saw him touching her thighs. Of course, he denied it, was only dusting off the poor lady's knees, he said. But that scum should know better than to touch a Zenin. He's lucky it was me who saw him and not Ogi-sama himself."
You wonder if it was the trick of light but you saw how Ranta's eyes look a little hazy.
"If the other clans found out, it will be difficult to wed off Mai," he sneers, "she should no longer be allowed to play in the gardens."
Stiffly giving him a smile, you spoke, "Mai was lucky that you were there to come to her aid, but she is still a child-"
"Mai will grow up to be a Zenin lady and she is to remain pure and untainted so she can be married to a reputable husband." He spoke with finality.
You've come to realize that it wasn't chirpiness that made Ranta's eyes shine, it was viciousness.
The healer was swift in seeing you and prompting you to leave the infirmary and its godawful stench. More guards and servants are to arrive soon. You also appreciate that the arnica flower medication proved to be more effective than you thought.
You wander for a bit, eyes careful in staying low, you explore the house more. The wood and carvings look older than the ones in your home, yet some patterns you have seen in your home as well. It might be because Hanamura and Zenin are in the same region, Ajisai. As you arrive in the garden that was given to you by the Zenins, the fresh scent of flowers welcome you. Your eyes glitter at the sight of different colored flora in small pots that are just waiting to be transferred to their permanent home.
The personal maids that were assigned to work under you bows and greet you. You return their greetings with a bright smile, hoping to start a good relationship with them. You are now well aware of how the Zenins are when it comes to how they treat their servants, but you would rather build loyalty and friendship than instill fear.
"Y/N-sama, the flowers are ready to be replanted. You can tell us where you want them to be and we can plant them for you." A servant who you notice had a different style of kimono spoke, you watch how tiny wrinkles are found around her tired eyes, and you feel bad as you think of how the Zenins must have contributed to that.
"No, it is alright. I want to help plant them myself."
Hesitation is evident on their faces but they eventually concede. You happily share your knowledge about flowers to them, as they also traded some of the stories about the flowers that they had in their backyard when they were young. It seems that the older woman was named Chiyo, and you were right about the Zenins being responsible for her tired appearance as she was serving the family for forty-three long years.
Though she appears strict and uptight, you feel warm with the sense of familiarity that she carries with her. Some of her expressions matched your mother's.
It reminds you to write a letter to home in the near future, just to ease the uneasiness that you know your parents are feeling.
Your dainty hands gather the soil around the roots as you imagine tucking the pretty flower into bed, you press softly so as to avoid having dirt caking your nails. "Aku, please pass me the next one." You called to a woman who has been helping you. She is only a few years older than you, yet her soft features and shy personality made you think of her as a younger sister.
"Aku?" You called again when she didn't respond. You raise your head up to see her looking at someone behind you as she held the black dahlia that you were supposed to plant, the giggles and hushed stories that you were listening to has stopped. You look around only to find them all standing up with their heads bowed.
As you turn your head, there stood your husband. His arms are crossed as he stood a few feet away from you. You quickly rise to your feet and bow to him.
"Naoya-sama, what brings you here?"
You wait for his answer but he only clicks his tongue at you.
“Tell me, Chiyo. After I assigned so many of you to dote on my wife, why is her hands covered in dirt?" He asks in an eerily calm tone, his eyes never leaving yours, telling you that he asked the question not to get Chiyo's answer.
A servant brings you a bowl of water, almost spilling it in her haste and you dip your hands in it, a towel was quickly wrapped around your hands to dry them.
You turn to your husband who is patiently waiting for you to finish. "Naoya-sama, it was my fault. I told them that I wanted to help plant the flowers."
"You got dirt on your knees and kimono, trying to play gardener." He drawls, you see how his eyes train to Aku's hands. Your heart pounds against your chest, was it a little too bold to have that flower planted on your garden? You're afraid that he'll see it as an act of disloyalty. But you did not ask for the flower for its meaning but for its beauty.
"Leave us."
The servants didn't need to be told twice as they quickly leave you with your husband. Chiyo gave you a concerned look but you smile at her to tell her that you will be alright. Aku seems to be frozen in place, staring at Naoya.
"Aku? You can leave us." You smile at her. She gave you one more look before bowing to Naoya and you, she then excuses herself.
Naoya stands before you, eyes appearing to be sizing you up and you remain still, waiting for whatever scolding he's about to give you but your eyebrows rise when Naoya unfolds his arms and dangles out a rectangular box wrapped in furoshiki right in front of your face. You curiously look at Naoya before reaching out for the box, which he lifts away from your reach just as your fingers graze the corner of it.
"The tea was good." He drones before placing the box on your hand with such gentleness.
It's not an apology but it made you smile at him so sweetly.
"I'm glad you liked it."
Your eyes flit to the bench and Naoya catches up and ushers you to it. He places his hand on the small of your back to make you walk alongside him when you stalled to walk three steps behind him. You felt both gentleness and firmness from his touch. You run your hands down on your kimono to smooth it over before sitting down, plopping the present on your thighs. Fingers quickly working on undoing the knot of the furoshiki. It reveals a beautifully carved box. The scent of fresh lacquer tells you that it was newly made. The wood makes a soft scratching sound as you slide the cover off and your breath hitch.
It's a kanzashi.
The silver twirling in a beautiful pattern that frames the large jadeite on the tip and the body has beautiful whorls and patterns running down.
You run your fingertips on the metalwork before beaming at Naoya who has a smirk playing on his lips.
"I had a feeling you might like it."
"I do! Thank you, Naoya-sama." With gentle fingers, you got it out of the box to look at it closely. As you turn it between your fingers, you miscalculate its weight and it falls from your hand and came sliding down to your kimono to land softly on the ground.
"Don't lose it now, wife. I didn’t even get to see you wear it yet." Naoya laughs as he stops you from bending down and reaches for it himself. You felt your cheeks heating up as your fingers brush. You stare at Naoya shyly, loving the softness that he's showing you.
Naoya places his hands on your elbow and guides you to turn your back on him. You feel his rough fingertips brushing on your nape, the sensation making you erupt into giggles. His fingers lingered longer than they should and you know he is doing it intentionally. You place your hand on his thigh in a playful attempt to push him back. Naoya places a kiss on your neck then gathers your hair into a neat bun and uses the kanzashi to keep it in place.
You could only wish that it was your lips that he was kissing.
Eager to hear his response, you scooch back and turn to let him look at you.
Naoya scratched his chin and nods. "Looks decent."
For a moment, you think that it doesn't suit you but his coy tone made you glare at him with feign annoyance which he replies by cocking an eyebrow, making him look painfully handsome.
His gaze cut to a butterfly that hovers above you. The Hanamura clan has the inherited curse technique of flora manipulation, but it always fails to manifest on women. You are no exemption, but you are still gifted with decent cursed energy, making the flora and fauna to flourish in your touch. But what truly makes the women of the house of Hanamura sought after, is your never-failing competence to birth children with abundant cursed energy. It is one of the reasons behind your marriage. With his technique and your rich cursed energy, you shall have an heir worthy of leading this great estate and region of Ajisai. Such child will have a seat at the table of the empire. He looks at your eyes again, wondering if a mellow creature such as yourself can birth a Zenin.
Naoya breaks your eye contact to look behind you and you hear the soft clinking of porcelain and soon enough, a servant appears in front of you to bow in respect and leaves as soon as she places the tea and wagashi between you.
"Told the Fujita house to send in their best glutinous rice." Naoya states as he watches you pick up a sakura mochi.
You hum in delight at the flavor and chewiness, complimented by sweet red bean paste.
"I recall having their rice for the first time, I believed it was glowing and one would think I was starved with how I helped myself to it." You giggle.
Naoya eyes the half-eaten wagashi in your hand. "The lord of house Fujita is from the neighboring empire in the west. He got his knowledge of growing crops in there. The empire benefits from it but Lord Fujita still practice most of their culture. Way too much than he should."
You pause mid-chew, thinking how to respond to his comment.
"He swore loyalty to our family and fought side by side with my father in the Battle of the Crimson Sea." He continues.
The Battle of the Crimson Sea, the clash that brought the entire empire together, as your father told you.
You swallow to buy yourself time. "It was really generous of him to share his culture then."
"They have been training their men and refused to join the last regional council meeting. Their attitude is becoming that of traitors." Naoya's lip curl up in distaste. "I'm considering of having them slaughtered.” Naoya meets your eyes, and you try not to break under his gaze. "What do you think, wife?"
You're not a fool, very much aware that he's testing you. You try to calm yourself, knowing that your response will decide whether you will earn your husband's respect or not. Whether he will deem you worthy of being a Zenin.
You glance at his hand that rests on his thigh and reach for it.
"A wise leader never seeks out war." Your eyes flit back to his as your thumb brushes the rough callous on the palm of his hand. "But he must always be ready for it."
A sly smile creeps on your husband's lips, pride and amusement overflowing from him. He brushes his lips on your knuckles and rises to his feet.
"I shall try not to accidentally kill you when you bring me my tea tomorrow morning." Naoya's tone plays around teasing and danger.
It was then you remember who exactly it was that you married.
Chapter Synopsis: You arrive in the Zenin Estate to be married to the heir of the Zenin clan.
Warning: mentions of death and violence, arranged marriage, nsfw, loss of virginity, mentions of body shaming, misogyny, desperate crybaby reader
Word Count: 4095
Prologue
Everybody knows that the empire is no longer controlled by the emperor but by the Three Great Sorcerer Clans. Kamo, Gojō, and Zenin. All three have their own history of greatness, power, and honor. As well as brutality.
Stories about their bloody battles cross oceans and reach the farthest of fiefs and continents. Their victories celebrated, their sacrifices honored, and their violence feared.
"Don't slouch."
Your back stiffens at your mother's words. The constant rocking of the carriage making it difficult for you to suppress the urge to hurl your breakfast. But a nagging voice in your head doubts that it’s the ride that is causing the queasiness gurgling in your stomach. "What happens…if the lord is unsatisfied of me, mother?"
"Only a foolish man shall be unsatisfied of you." Your mother huffs with her chin tilted upward, her confidence and blunt comments never fail to lift your spirits. You do envy her strength. A lady of the house, in grace and tongue. She gently tugs at your white uchikake to smoothen the lines and show the golden embroidery better. "It is a shame, you cannot marry Toji instead." Your mother clicks her tongue and you raise a hand to your mouth to hide a snicker.
"He is quite…ahead in years for our daughter." Your father chimes in, his sharp eyes surveying the land outside the carriage window.
"And he is married. I only see him as a big brother," you reminded them, "or some sort of a weird drunk cousin."
"Was married. I used to believe he took a liking on you. He never fails to give you flowers when he pays us a visit."
You hum in agreement, "He did, didn't he? Always gives me gladiolus, even though I always ask him to bring me one of those bright yellow roses that I saw from the market once."
"I never did like them, those roses. They are too..." your mother pause to scrunch her nose, "yellow."
"I believe Toji-san just snapped the first gladiolus he saw from our garden, just so he can give something to me," you laugh, "and then it became our thing."
Feeling a soft breeze from the carriage window, your eyes leave the disgruntled face of your mother to gaze at the comforts of nature. Your heart aching at the thought of leaving your garden back at your home after dedicating your time to it, but your father told you that the Zenins promised you a fresh lawn that could fit ten of your gardens in it. Perhaps it's a compensation for the duty that they placed on your shoulders.
“If not Toji, then what about young Satoru?” Your mother turns to your father. You scrunch your face, trying to show how much you disliked the suggestion. “Oh, the two of you were inseparable back then.” She coos.
“No, it just seemed that way as he made me chase him around after he stole my dolls. I still cannot comprehend how we are civil with each other today.” You hum in brief amazement. It was very easy for Satoru to rile you, leaving you at each other’s throats every time he visits.
She clasps her hands excitedly. “But you have a bond.”
Oh, Crimson Sea, drown me.
Holding up a palm and straightening your back, you say, “Mother with all due respect, I must disagree, and I simply refuse to marry a man that has the attitude of a ten-year-old boy.”
She laughs gently. Like soft bells that dance with the wind. “But you do not know that. Afterall, it has been quite some time since you last saw each other.”
“We are on our way to the Zenin estate. For a wedding. Frankly, I see no point in arguing about it now.” Your father clears his throat, regaining order in the carriage.
Naoya Zenin, you wonder what kind of person he is. He was the only heir of the Three Great Sorcerer Clans that you have never met before. You met Choso Kamo once, he did not talk much, preferring to remain to the sides to watch over you and his little brothers as you play in the gardens. Satoru was a different case. His father used to take him on his trips around the empire to establish relationships. But the young boy took a liking to the kikufuku mochi that your personal maid used to make for you and since then, his visits became more and more frequent. Too frequent, much to your exasperation.
Your thoughts were interrupted when a butterfly flew inside the window of the carriage. You watch its wings flutter so peacefully before it chooses to perch on your shoulder. Its wings were pristine white, contrasting the lush green of the field outside, but something else draws your attention. There is a trail of crimson stain on the dirt road and the grass, your curious eyes followed it despite knowing otherwise.
A startled screamed tears at your throat when a pair of blank eyes stares back at you. You cover your mouth as your bile threatens to rise on your throat once more, cursing yourself for not screwing your eyes shut quick enough.
You will yourself to stop thinking about the dark rotting skin of his head, the flies buzzing about and the maggots crawling out of the rotten wound of his neck. He was bathed in his own blood that crusted and curdled as he was crucified upside down. His clothes are in tatters, leaving his corpse to be humiliated.
Your father who is sitting right in front of you was quick to draw the curtain to shield you from the vile sight.
"Oh, how cruel. They could have at least cleaned that up!" Your mother gasps as she tried to soothe you by rubbing your back.
"It is a warning to those who dare to defy the Zenin clan." Your father murmurs as he eyes your petrified form. He is contemplating if he made the right decision of accepting the proposal of the Zenins for your hand. You are his precious daughter, one that he swore to protect since the first time he held you in his arms and he will start a war with the Zenins if they so much as harm a single hair on your head. However, Naobito, the head of the Zenin clan, did promise that you will be happy and protected in their estate, and your father knew that the abundance and comforts that the noble men from your fief offered could not compare to the lavishness that the Zenins possessed. No marriage could be more advantageous than one that is with Naoya Zenin.
The carriage comes to a halt and you meet your father's worried gaze as the carriage door opened. When he saw your eyes shining with unshed tears, he almost instructs the coachman to turn the carriage around and head back to your fief. There you would be home. There you would be safe. Your innocence and laughter protected inside the floral walls of your home. Your family’s adviser saw through what your father is feeling as he too felt the same way, but he interrupts before any rash decisions can be made.
"Lord Hanamura, we have arrived."
Your mother reaches for your hand. "Let us not keep them waiting." You know that she is trying to be brave for you but the tremor in her voice tells you otherwise. Your legs feel heavy, throat closing up as your palms grow cold and clammy.
"Of course." Your father nods grimly before stepping out of the carriage and was quick to assist your mother and you as they help to make sure the seams of the blinding white of your clothing never touches the ground.
The sun blinds you for a moment, and as tempted as you were to look around the Zenin estate, you set your eyes downcast when you hear footsteps coming your way.
"Hanamura, my old friend." An almost carefree voice speaks before a strong stench of sake nips your nose. It's the head of the estate, Naobito Zenin. You saw in your peripheral how he greets your father with such familiarity before standing in front of you.
You were quick to put on a gentle smile as you bow before him. "My Liege." You greet him with the softest voice, just like how your mother taught you.
"Ah the muse of the nine Lords, Hanamura Y/N. Truly an epitome of grace." It has been a while since you heard someone call you that.
You thank him for his kind compliment. As you straighten your back once more, you were able to breathe a little easier.
Naobito asked you to follow him to the shrine where your promised is waiting. You were looking forward to seeing him, and you admit that there was disappointment creeping inside you when he failed to accompany his father in welcoming you to the estate.
Naoya Zenin is a famed warrior, his name known all throughout the empire. He is known as one of the fastest sorcerers of his age, his speed, agility, and wit are his key to victory. News of him, along with Gojō Satoru, exorcising curses and fighting against invaders were celebrated. You were astonished when you found out that he was only seven years older than you, his accomplishments rivals those of who are twice his age.
It is an honor to be wedded to Naoya Zenin.
And you can't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.
But perhaps it was foolish and naïve to hold on to such hopes.
Not once did Naoya Zenin look at you at your wedding.
The feast that took place was a grand celebration. Gilded. With flowers covering the place, wine and food spread along the long tables. But not an ounce of happiness can be seen in his face.
He acknowledged your father, but never did he try to talk to you. Even while saying his vows, he looked as if he was rolling his eyes and glared at your forehead the entire time.
After the celebration died down, you say your farewell to your parents as you follow Naoya to his chambers, which will also be yours from now on. He still refuses to talk to you. Your gaze is on your feet, as you walk, almost bumping into him when he pauses to slide open the shoji. To your surprise, he let you walk in first.
Naoya does not respond to your silent "thank you" and instead just wordlessly closes the shoji behind him.
You stood in front of him, your eyes downcast and your clammy hands poised gracefully in front of you. You tried to appear relaxed but it is difficult as you felt his searing gaze.
"Hanamura Y/N," he murmurs, as if testing how your name would sound coming from his lips. "How old are you again?"
"I turned twenty this year, Naoya-sama."
Naoya eyes your plump hips and thighs in distaste, they’re good for childbearing at least. He is quick to notice that he towers over you, your head scarcely reaching his shoulders.
He clicks his tongue. "You're barely a woman then."
A protest almost broke out of you but you held it back. If you weren't married a couple years from now, you will be called a spinster.
You lower your head even more to give him a nonverbal apology. You are aware of the usual preferences of men. They want a woman who is untouched, but a vixen in the sheets.
"They made me marry a fucking child." You hear him groan, "Do you at least know your duties as my wife?" He spits as he stands in front of you.
You nod almost desperately. "Certainly, Naoya-sama. I am to carry your children and serve you in every way that you see fit."
"Good."
You let out a breath of relief.
"Strip."
With your gaze leaving the tatami mat, you meet Naoya's bored stare, yet the intensity of it forces you to lower your eyes to his chest. With trembling hands, you reached for your uchikake.
Your wedding night should be a dream come true, but it was far from a dream when Naoya slapped your hand away to peel the layers of your clothing himself, annoyance and impatience etched on his movements.
Your husband should be gentle on your first night together, but he was far from being gentle when he made you lie on your stomach on the raised futon bed as he mounted you.
Your first time should be full of bliss, but it was far from blissful when Naoya started a pace that had you crying in pain.
Naoya's grunts were drowned by your cries and the obscene wet melody of your union. You're sweaty and the liquid dripping on your thighs was sticky, adding to your discomfort. You were hurting from being stretched full as he pulled your backside flush against his pelvis, but he never seemed to care. You felt your hips starting to bruise under his tight grip, no doubt the shape of his fingers shall be seen come next morning. Your knees and elbows burn from rubbing on the sheets. A particularly hard thrust had you wailing.
"Na...Naoya-sama! You're hurting me." You whimper as you grip the tear-soaked pillow while turning your head to give him a pleading look in an attempt to have him go easy on you. Never had you know such pain can be inflicted by husbands to their wives.
A hiccup escaped your swollen lips when Naoya reached out to pat your cheek.
"This is why I didn't want you. You can't even take a man." Naoya grumbled but instead of taking offence, you were just glad when he slowed down his pace. "Better?"
You ignored his mocking tone and nodded your head, "Tha...thank you, Naoya-sama."
Naoya stares at you. You're plump but that is to be expected from a spoiled lady like you. Your cheek slump on the pillow, your eyelashes clumping from dried tears and your brows were furrowed, your body all spent.
Perhaps he should be kinder to you. You're his wife after all.
You opened your eyes, worried when you heard your husband sigh, but they closed shut as soon as his fingers started rubbing between your thighs. You let out a high-pitched moan, calling his name.
"So easy to please." Your husband chuckles before smacking your bum to watch the fat ripple.
Naoya closes his eyes as he listened to your moans. It wasn't so bad deflowering a virgin. You're not experienced as the women that he had before you, but the idea of fucking an untainted cunt made his chest swell with pride.
His. No one else’s.
He watched you hug the pillow to your chest as you burrow your head in it, your breath coming in short pants as mewls clawed out of your throat just as he felt your insides twitch before you wailed out his name, crying for him. The hand between your thighs moved to push down between your shoulders to raise your hips just enough to have him pound on your cunt.
Naoya shoved you on the bed, grunting as he picked up his pace, enjoying the feel of your velvet walls pulsing around him. His pierced ears ringing with every squelch of your mound as you writhe beneath him, letting out mewls that you never once imagine you could make.
A guttural groan rumbles from Naoya's chest, breath hitching before he slams his hips on you, sinking balls deep into your warmth until his aching drooling tip kisses your bruised and puckered cervix before spilling out his hot ropy seed so deep in your cunt that you feel your stomach twitching.
He watches how his cum escapes your swollen lips as you continue to squeeze around him, his foxlike eyes following the slope of your back to your face, and laughs when he sees you dazed and just about ready to pass out.
Naoya was not the kindest man but he is still your husband, and you were taught to always honor your vows.
For that reason, you sat in a stuffy room front of Ogi Zenin's wife one morning. She had been educating you of what is expected from a Zenin lady. It hasn't even been two days since you arrived in the Zenin estate, yet so much has already happened. You witness so much deviance from what you grew up to know, it made you wonder if you have been truly living in the same empire as the Zenins because of your cultural differences.
The women in the Zenin estate must never meet eyes with men. To never speak unless spoken to. You understand that. But for women to walk three steps back, the husbands having concubines, for women to eat in separate dining rooms from the men. Now, that is simply absurd.
Lady Zenin was quick to scold you when you asked her how you were supposed to hold your husband's hand as you walk, making you ask for forgiveness when she started turning red in shock and anger. It sometimes makes you wonder what exactly happened to her that warranted that level of rage.
Ease settled between you two when she complimented your fine skills in preparing and pouring tea.
She told you that it is your duty to wake up earlier than your husband to prepare a morning tea for him. You are also responsible in helping him get dressed, to satisfy his needs, and lastly, you are to give him an heir. Heirs.
A small smile spread on your lips at the thought of having babes that looks exactly like your husband. He was unkind to you, but he did ease up and allow you to feel such mind numbing pleasure.
And you also find him very handsome.
You were unaware of the pitying look that was given to you.
After the entire day of memorizing the history and traditions of the Zenin clan, you are finally permitted to join your husband in your shared quarters.
Careful to not make a sound since the Zenins preferred silence, you watched your every step but as soon as you saw light coming from your room, you hastily slipped out of your geta before picking them up, your sock-clad feet swiftly padded against the wooden floor, stopping just outside the shoji to wear your geta once more. You draw a deep breath and you put on a wide smile.
Gently sliding the shoji to the side, you peer at the room and you see your husband lounging on a chair near a window, holding a piece of parchment. You make your way inside to greet him before you bowed.
"Wife."
You took that as a sign of acknowledgement and you straighten your back. Naoya didn't even turn to look at you, his eyes focused on the letter in his hand. You see that he's already in his evening clothes.
"Is it alright if I freshen up, Naoya-sama? Or is there anything-"
"Go."
You purse your lips at his dismissal, but both the opened and unopened letters on his desk told you that he must have had a long day too.
You disappear in your closet and Naoya's gaze flit to your direction when you come out of the closet in your juban kimono.
His nose crinkling at the sight of your body, there were barely any curves. He did not understand how men desired plump women like you, it looked like all you ever did was lounge and eat, it made him shake his head.
"Spoiled." He mutters.
Naoya brings his attention back to the letter that he held. It was from the Gojō estate, congratulating him of his marriage. Naoya read the lighthearted and terrible message of Gojō Satoru. Instead of a normal congratulatory message and wishing the both of you a happy marriage, Satoru instead told him that he looks forward to see Naoya finally be tied with a leash. And the terribly drawn doodles of stars and a poor attempt of a dog and finally of Satoru holding two fingers up to form a V with his tongue sticking out. What a child.
You? Tying a leash around him?
"Is everything alright, Naoya-sama?"
A curious look passes your eyes as you saw your husband tearing up a piece of paper before crumpling it tight enough for his hand tendons to pop out then tosses it to the trash.
You only received a hum before he dismissed you.
Instead of bothering him further, you opted to lounge in your shared bed and crack a book that you snatched from your library back at home. You can see your mother frowning at the idea of you taking a book from her collection without asking.
You got lost in the story, daydreaming and wondering if your husband would be as sweet as the samurai that risked his life to save a princess, would he battle curses for you too?
"It's not right for a woman to read."
You bite your lip as you slowly set the book down to look at your husband. He was already staring at you, taunting you with that sly look on his eyes, as if daring you to say anything against him.
You we're afraid this would happen.
"Literacy is of the essence in this society, Naoya-sama."
He clicks his tongue, "What good would that do you, when all you have to do is to mother my children?"
You glance down on the sheets to gather yourself then back to your husband. "But I quite enjoy reading."
"Weren't you taught to keep your mouth shut and never talk back to your husband?" Naoya leaves his seat, his sharp glare piercing you.
You duck your head and held your hand together, "I was. Forgive me, Naoya-sama."
"Forgiveness.” He spits. “You cannot even satisfy me in bed, and now you’re giving me this brazen insolence. If your family does not forbid me from having concubines, I would have been deep inside another woman right now."
Tears start to form on your eyes. Never in your life had you been spoken to in such manner. Such unnecessary effort to hurt a person with words, all for the satisfaction of inflicting a wound. Why must people be so hateful. You know that it will not be the same in the Zenin estate, but no matter how much mental preparation you do, finally hearing it now still affects you more than you would like to admit.
"Dry those tears now.” Naoya sneers as he watches you wipe your face and letting out a few sniffles as your chest heaved. “How unsightly.”
"Forgive me Nao...Naoya-sama." You hiccupped.
What a milksop.
To your surprise, you felt your husband smoothing out your hair as he joined you in bed. "Just learn your place. I do not wish to fight."
You were quick to nod.
"There, there." His tone was laced with condescension but you crave any comfort that he gave you. You look up at him before slumping on his chest. Naoya may be a terrible person but he is also the only one who can provide you with solace, as strange as it may seem.
"I’ll do better, I’ll be a good wife to you, Naoya-sama."
You soak up his warmth as he continues to pat your head, a dirty grin playing on his lips.
"Yeah? You'll be a good wife?"
"Yes, Naoya-sama." You answer without missing a beat, still eager to gain his favor.
Naoya brushes your hair from your face and slides his hand down to let it rest on your nape, slowly leaning towards you, as if to tell you a secret.
"Then why are you not bent on all fours?"
His hushed tone made your hair stand on end, for anticipation or fear, you don't know.
You glance at his mocking gaze before peeling yourself from him and easily slip out of your clothes.
Naoya watches as you crawl towards the center of the bed to offer your bare cunt to him.
He eyes your swollen lips before spreading it with the pads of his thumb, making you whimper. "Just as I thought. You're still sore, aren't you?"
You glance back at him, modesty painted on your face before replacing it with a smile. "Don't worry Naoya-sama, you can make love to me." You said it so sweetly that it made him grin.
once upon a time she had too much free time, please she had to place those trees individually, it's blurry but she was excited okay, wait there's more bad editing coming
Estates
Zenin
A fortress itself. A grassland and it is surrounded by rocky mountains and a thick forest that is littered with wildlife and the estate house is surrounded by protective reversed cursed energy. Home of the Zenin family. It is the largest estate and can fit both the other estates with land to spare.
Gojō
Mountains also act as a fortress. Plants does not prosper well and they import a lot of goods from the Zenin estate. The Gojo estate also has their own sorcerers but the head of the Gojo clan, Gojo Satoru himself, almost acts alone most of the time.
Kamo
A dessert land that specializes in making wine. They are more secluded compared to the other clans but they do have good diplomatic relationships. Most of their territory is a wasteland but they do have enough men to defend their home. They value brotherhood. It is led by Kamo Choso.
I miss online classes and having way too much free time. Please enjoy these little edits younger me made. She really wanted you to be immersed in her little world.
Synopsis: In an era where jujutsu prowess is not the only thing in play, but also power struggles, Naoya Zenin was given a bride. The marriage was strategic and beneficial for their houses, only, said bride dared to yearn for more, forgetting that she married into a family not known for favoring their women.
Warning: Added on each chapter
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray any individuals mentioned in a negative light. The reader is female. Skin tone and body type mentions were limited for better reading experience, although there are descriptions that imply that reader has a plump body. If any characteristics of the character displeases you, or if any of the warnings does not agree with you, I advise you not to proceed with reading the story.
Note: This is written 4 years ago with little to no editing, I just thought it would be a waste not to post when it has been sitting in my drafts for so long. Pretty pathetic in the first chapters but if you're in for character development and angst, give this story a try.
Was deleting files and stumbled upon a really old historical Naoya x Reader fic. Really old. Really cringe. But at some point younger me really enjoyed writing it. I think I owe it to her to post it. Also why the heck not.
Synopsis: Charles Leclerc has everything he could ever dream of but in a single day, he loses everything. He wakes up in the bed of a stranger in a place he never heard of with no phone, no money, and his identity, practically useless. Stripped of a life he once knew, Charles must navigate a world that is far too different from his own as nothing more than an ordinary man.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray any individuals mentioned in a negative light. The reader is female. Skin tone and body type mentions were limited for better reading experience. If any characteristics of Y/N displeases you, or if any of the warnings does not agree with you, I advise you not to proceed with reading the story.
What happened to chapter viii. A Bouquet of Honeysuckle in your arranged marriage fic?
hi there! I absolutely had no idea this happened, thank you so much for sending this ask. Apparently it was flagged for mature themes. I added a content label to it now so it should look like the picture below. You can read it now if you click 'view post'. I apologize about this, content labels weren't a big thing when I uploaded this last year, I guess tumblr had a few policy changes. Thank you so much!
Hi love!!! I love your obsessive little thing series!!! I was wondering if there was a part 4? Every time I click the link, I can't find it and I've been searching your tags, but I can't find it
hellooo yes there's a part 4, it's called Pretty Little Thing, right here. I really hope you'll enjoy it even though the series was more of a shallow/light reading hngggg I'm so happy that people enjoy this series. And I'm so sorry for the links! I will find time to fix them eventually, just have a lot of things in my hands right now. Thank you so much!
hello, no I did not delete it but I think its because I changed my user. The same thing happened to all my masterlists. I am so sorry for this, I had absolutely no idea this would happen.
My fics can be accessed if you search the tags in my blog ie character x reader (rafe cameron x reader, coriolanus snow x reader, gojo satoru x reader)
Chapter Synopsis: Featherless birds fall with a splat
Warning: Angst, cursing
Word Count: 4532
Part 1 • Part 2
You aren’t exactly certain how you’d feel with Rafe walking out on you like that.
Partly, you were glad that you somehow managed to face him without breaking but the way his eyes bore on you, it was just awful, like you were physically causing him pain.
And perhaps you were.
JJ saw how your mood has switched after you got your drinks. Your eyes were all blank and you were spacing out. He made the decision for you both to head back and meet with your other friends.
You are sitting with your girlfriends, and JJ decided to join you for the rest of the night. He was entertaining everybody with his overly exaggerated wild stories, trying to get you to focus on him, but your eyes are wandering on a certain someone.
Rafe was gulping down beer, cup after cup. It was too much, even for him.
You understand he’s got an extremely high alcohol tolerance but this is just sad to look at. His face was all red and his shirt was clinging to his back, soaked with sweat.
“You know, I really thought I could finally catch your attention with Cameron all gone.” JJ suddenly leans on the sofa next to you. You sigh, giving a quick smile without looking at him. “But I guess it was stupid of me to swoop in when you are literally in love with him.”
Pursing your lips together, you look away from Rafe to glance at the man beside you. JJ was looking sullen but a trace of smirk is still on his lips, never really looking utterly hopeless. Sometimes you wonder how he was able to master such a carefree façade.
“I really had fun hanging out with you.” You say sadly. “You’re a good friend.”
He scrunches his face. “Good friend. Yeah.”
“JJ, come on.” You laugh at his blatant display of dislike at being called a “friend” but he breaks into a smile. “I really enjoyed being with you. It’s just I don’t…It’s too soon and Rafe-”
“I know.” He cuts you off, his eyes wandering to the man. “He looks like shit.” He mutters and you look over to see just in time Rafe doubling over, looking like he is seconds away from ruining the carpet.
Your back immediately leaves the sofa and you sit up straighter, ready to move whenever Rafe needs you.
“Y/N, he’s not a baby. Let him take care of himself.” JJ chuckles, making you bite your lip, still anxiously watching.
Rafe looks like he’s about to collapse, he was clutching his head and grimacing in pain. Soon enough, he was shoving people away and heading to the bathroom.
“I don’t know, J. I haven’t seen him that drunk since…” You squint at Rafe’ direction in the dark, trying to find a memory to match. “I haven’t seen him that drunk.”
JJ’s brows slowly rise. “Really? Not even when his father found out he did drugs?”
You shake your head. “No, not even then.” You slowly rise from the couch and JJ lets you go.
“Well, I suppose he can’t be left alone, can he?” JJ smiles somberly and you return it apologetically, still thankful that he’s supporting you right now.
Your girlfriends however were not so keen on the idea.
“Y/N, where do you think you’re going?”
“Ladies.” JJ starts, throwing you a wink. “Have I ever told you about that time we fought actual gators?”
You take your time, heading to the bathroom. Your usual caregiver spirit when Rafe is in need has been dampened and you’re not sure she’s making a recovery soon.
The music gets muffled the deeper you go into the dark hallway. The entire house is still buzzing from the music of course but you no longer feel like the speaker’s up your eardrums. And with every step you take, the more you hear. You are careful where you step, making sure your feet don’t step on any creaky floorboards.
You stand there, face to face with the bathroom door, hearing Rafe being absolutely wasted. And is he crying? You bite on your knuckle, brows meeting just a little as you try to listen.
Quietly, you twist the knob open. He was retching, big arms hugging the tiny toilet, his head almost all the way in. You stand there, watching his shoulders shake. His sobs sounded almost hysterical, ripping from his throat.
What has happened to you, Rafe?
“Rafe?” You gently call his name and he turns to you. His hand absentmindedly tried to flush the contents of the toilet, missing it multiple times. You watch him sag, his entire body sitting on his ankles as he looks up to you helplessly.
“Hey.” He drawls. “Wha... wha' are you doin' here?” He asks casually in a coarse voice he got after barfing his guts out. His heavy-lidded eyes look up at you, watching you hesitantly walk towards him. “Shouldn’t be here.” He shakes his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“Rafe.” You say his name so gently, he closes his eyes. He’d pay just to hear you say his name again and again. “Are you alright?” You ask and he looks up at you dumbly, mouth slightly parted before nodding slowly.
“Yes.”
You fish out your own handkerchief and run the tap over it, just enough to dampen the fabric. “You don’t look like you’re alright.” You smile, a hint of teasing on your voice and he scoffs.
“Why ask when you don’…don’t believe me anyway?” He gestured stupidly with his hand and he stills when you grab the said hand. He looks up at you as you wipe the sick off his arm.
“You drank too much.” You mumble as you start to step closer to him, your hand cupping his cheek to wipe at the corner of his lips.
“No, shit.” He wanted to say but the words are stuck on his throat as he just stared at you, taking care of him, touching him, just looking at him again. He drops his hands and his limp fingers rest on the cold bathroom floor. He is feeling too much, how your ankles brush on his thighs, the warmth of your fingers, and the soft dampness of the fabric gliding on his chin.
Have you always been like this to him?
Rafe wonders if he just sat still while you tended to him before, would he have this sight of you all those times. Was he so stupid he missed all opportunities to look at you like this?
“Come back.”
You pause. “What?”
He shakes his head before looking at the pinstriped polo you are wearing. His brows creased, teeth clenching in annoyance as he pinched the fabric. “This…this is mine. You’re wearin’ MY clothes while you’re kissin’ other guys!” He fumes, hands clumsily tugging at your clothes that your knees almost buckle, your hand finding purchase on his shoulder so as to not fall. “That’s fucking un…unacceptable! You like ME! You can’t go ‘round kissin’ other guys when y’ like me!” He suddenly yells and your eye twitches.
Your finger jabs at his chest. “Fuck you!”
Rafe’s glassy eyes widen as his breath gets caught in his throat. Did you just…did you just curse at him?
“Fuck you, Rafe!” You repeat in annoyance. Blood boiling within seconds as you angrily run a hand on your hair, scoffing at the sheer audacity of this man to say those things to you.
You glare at him again and he actually flinches. “Don’t tell me what to do. You have no right to decide for me.” You angrily strip off the pinstriped polo, his head following your wild motion before you crumple it in a ball. “This is your polo?” You raise it and he nods hesitantly, still in shock at your outburst. “Here!” You throw it at his face and you watch it cover his head, his hands are sluggish as he slowly pulls it off.
You’re heaving in frustration both hands on your hips as you look at his crestfallen face, bunching the fabric in his large hands.
“Then I can go kiss other guys now, huh?” You say out of anger and you watch his shoulders sag as he brings his hands to the floor again, fingers twisting the fabric.
He looked absolutely wrecked and your heart starts to feel heavy again. You cross your arms, leaning on the wall as you watch him stare at the floor.
“Why shouldn’t I be allowed to kiss other guys? You made it clear that you don’t like me.” His head shoots up when you say that. “I’m not waiting for you forever.”
Rafe presses the heel of his palms against his eyes before he looks at you in agony, face all red, his bottom lip jutting out just the slightest.
“Y/N, please.” He moves to you, still on his knees as he loosely wraps an arm around your thighs. You looked up at the ceiling when he stared up to you desperately. “’m sorry, please. Don’t leave me ‘gain, please.”
You attempt to push him off but he hugs your thighs tighter, his head pressing on your stomach. “Rafe, let go!”
“No!” He sobbed, his shoulders shaking. “You’re mine! You like me! Not sharing you with that…that fucking pogue-”
“Rafe!”
He flinches again but he doesn’t respond, only hugging you impossibly tight.
“You have to let me go.” You say more calmly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
He shakes his head against your stomach. You lean further against the wall, trusting it to hold you up as you surrender, sighing out your frustration as you rub his back, letting him cry on your stomach.
Perhaps JJ was wrong, about Rafe not being a baby. You truly feel like you are calming down an overgrown toddler. A toddler that fed on steroids instead of milk. His arms are tightly wrapped around you, just allowing you to breathe and aside from that, you can’t do anything else. Your free hand that didn’t get caught in his trapping hold, tried to soothe him, trying to tell him that you’re there, with him.
You run your fingers through his buzzed hair, feeling the heat and sweat cling on your fingers.
“You’re a mess.” You mumble, a small smile playing on your lips when his shoulders eventually start to stop shaking. “You got snot all over my belly, ugh.”
Rafe loosens his arms around you and wipes his nose, his eyes glaring at you for a moment. You smile at him smugly as he gathers himself. He clears his throat as he stands in front of you, eyes kept on the polo that he crumpled on his hand like a ball.
“Wanna wash your face?” You giggle.
He glares at you again but actually does what you told him to and takes the mouthwash you casually hands him. You nudge him with your shoulder to get him to scoot over so you can wash your handkerchief. Rafe watches your hands get under the faucet, just calmly watching the water glide over your skin, delicate fingers wringing the fabric that you so gently wiped on his face a while ago.
“’m sorry.” He slurred as he watched you tidying up. “Was so stupid. Sayin’ things that I don’t mean.” He continues, eyes starting to get desperate as you just rifle through your bag, not even looking at him. “Sorry for causing you trouble all the time.” He follows you like a puppy when you move past him to head to the door. “Please, don’t leave me again.”
You grip the doorknob tightly before it loosens in defeat. Rafe’s eyes brighten up when you turn to look at him.
“Why do you boys suddenly become the most honest people when you’re drunk?” You ask exasperatedly, also remembering JJ’s confession on the porch. “But then again, you could just be spouting nonsense.” You open the door this time but he puts a hand against it to close it again.
“I’m not. Please!” Rafe almost begs, his entire frame caging you against the door, his respect for personal space long forgotten as there’s nothing else in his head but to try and get you to understand, to believe. His tongue is heavy and his head is murky due to intoxication, which made him all the more frustrated.
You press your lips together, startled eyes boring into him. You have known that Rafe has an extreme and overwhelming side to him, his entire presence just smothering you in the best ways you can imagine. But with you trying to hold on to the fragile thread of anger and stability, you decide to push him by his chest. “Why don’t we uh…grab coffee? Let you sober up?”
He runs a hand on his face, it’s becoming a habit of his when he’s around you. “Fine. But don’t disregard everything I said just because I’m ‘drunk’. Please.” He said the last word with emphasis, his eyes offering no bargaining, prompting you to nod.
“Alright.”
Rafe looks into your eyes for a couple more seconds, making you understand that he is not willing to accept a half-assed response and you need to take him seriously. He slowly backs up, hands shoving into his pockets while you tongue your cheek, hesitantly opening the door for the both of you.
The blasting music thrums in your ear the deeper you get into the party, maneuvering your way in the sea of hormonal teens. A hand wraps on your wrist and you stop to look who it was.
It was JJ, heaving. He probably ran the moment he saw you. “Hold on, you’re leaving?”
Rafe was quick to pull your hand away from JJ’s hold, immediately squaring up. His chin was titled in a challenge as he eyed the flowers and bows decorating the band-aid on JJ’s chin.
“Rafe, please.” You beg, arms circling on his bicep to stop him from doing anything to JJ, who didn’t look the least bit afraid. In fact, he was looking at Rafe in pure entertainment. “JJ, I’m sorry. I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“No, you won’t!” Rafe seethes but you only roll your eyes at him.
Kissing his teeth, JJ nods. “Yeah, sure. Let me know if you need anything.” He eyes Rafe one more time and smiles at you in his usual relaxed manner. “I’ll tell your friends you left early.”
When you finally made it out of the crammed up beach house, you closed your eyes at the nipping sea breeze. You can’t believe you’re leaving the party with the person you have been trying to avoid for weeks.
“Keys.” You mutter and Rafe hastily digs through his pocket, his hooded eyes blinking as he tries to locate his keys.
Your deadpanned eyes watch him for a few more seconds before he finally passes it to you, along with the pinstriped polo, which you hesitantly take.
He felt weird, having to take the passenger seat, especially when it’s you with him. Rafe gets in the car, his eyes on you the entire time you drive. You’re not exactly acknowledging his presence in the car with you, despite his entire body twisted to face you, his head that is leaning back on the chair never turned to any direction but yours. He didn’t even know you arrived until you were taking off your seatbelt.
Rafe follows you quickly, nearly tripping on his way out. But he plays it cool, pulling his shirt down when it rode up. He meets your eyes briefly in embarrassment. This entire experience is ruining alcohol for him.
Even thinking about the mess he made in the bathroom, with you witnessing, made him want to smash every bottle that will ever grace his eyes again. That shit’s evil. Rafe blinks at the brightly lit convenience store, not yet able to process the colors of the different flavors of ramen and chips. He closes his eyes tightly, nearly driven to overstimulation and seeks out a chair, collapsing on it as he attempts to massage away the bounding pulse on his temple.
He feels you place a hand on his shoulder and the scent of coffee fills his lungs. Rafe looks at you briefly and the swirling liquid placed in front of him. You sat yourself on the chair opposite his and your glossed lips wrap on a straw, sipping on your tall cup of slushie.
After muttering a quick thanks, Rafe picks up the coffee, tentatively blowing on it and watching the steam blow off in your direction before taking a sip.
Your cheeks heat up at the groan he lets out when he takes more sips. His shoulders are slightly hunched and you quietly admire his physique as you continuously slurp, watching his intoxication being masked by caffeine with every gulp he takes.
Realizing that you’re staring, your eyes slowly shift outside the glass, cheeks all warmed up. Rafe sets down his coffee and just takes his time to look at you. He does not know if it’s still the lingering effects of alcohol in his blood or the overly bright lighting in this rundown convenience store, but you look like you’re glowing.
“Y/N.” He attempts to speak but you shake your head.
“Give it time, please. Coffee doesn’t magically cure intoxication, you know.” You smile softly to reassure him.
Rafe smiles back before taking another sip. He watches you turn to the road outside again. There you were, in front of him again after weeks of not seeing each other, just sipping on sugar and ice as you swung your feet that were clad in babydoll heels, with pretty straps that he always found cute and alluring. Despite the cozy choice of clothing, you never go without a statement piece.
He steals another glance at your clothes, along with the pinstriped polo you decided to wear again. He takes another sip of coffee. “It looks better on you.”
You look down on your clothes, lips pressing together before giving him a curt smile. “…Thanks.”
“Sure.” He nods. Both of you look at each other for a while, not quite certain what to do with the still tense atmosphere before simultaneously looking away, like a couple for teenager going on a first date, it’s fucking ridiculous.
Time passed with not a single word being uttered between you. Rafe watches how the coffee stained a line on the cup every time he takes a sip, the liquid now cooled, and your slushie cup was starting to sweat and leave trails of water everytime you move it. His eyes were starting to focus again and once he was confident in being able to speak without slurring, he cleared his throat to garner your attention.
“Listen.” He begins but the words lodge themselves in his throat the moment your curious eyes flit to him, perhaps this was a bad idea. He never knew what to say. Rafe doesn’t know if he can last one conversation without offending you somehow. “I know I hurt you. And I know it wasn’t just that time at the party.” He presses a knuckle on his lips to gather his thoughts. “I always take you for granted, when all you ever did was take care of me.”
You cross your arms in an attempt to make yourself feel protected as you lean back, eyes avoiding him.
“Your kindness and efforts. Your…feelings. They were so easy to overlook when you gave them to me every single day without fail.” He tries to reach out to you but stops midway and drops his hands on the table. “I never knew what I had until you decided to take everything away.”
Your eyes sharpen and he winces at his careless mistake.
“I mean, until I finally succeeded in pushing you away.” He reworded his sentence, making sure to pin the blame on himself instead of you. He hated how hurt he made you feel. He felt like shit. He never cared when people called him an asshole or a psycho, but after what he did to you, he felt like every label given to him was all real, and this time, it hurt.
He had girls before, and all the wanting he can associate with them is the feeling of fleeting euphoria when they’re under him, that is all. Rafe never missed anyone, or anything about anyone. Until you came along.
Rafe found himself in the middle of the night, missing you calling him by his name. He missed your smile and scent. His cheeks suddenly go wild red when he remembers the mess he made out of himself when he got your shirt, one you accidentally left in his room, up his nose during those nights when the longing just beats him up.
“I regret everything I said and done.” He says, trying to get back on track to apologizing. “And if you want to be my…friend again…” He takes a deep sigh. “I’ll do better.”
You chew on your bottom lip, eyes shyly meeting his, and you uncross your arms slowly.
“You promise?”
Rafe nods quickly, a small smile appearing on his lips as his hand darts out to hold yours. “Yes, I promise! Just don’t shut me out again.”
Gently, you shift your hand to wrap around his and he gladly holds yours back securely.
“I’ll try to be less…controlling too.” You look away. “I won’t bother you as much and I won’t cling to you in parties or wherever-”
“I thought we’re okay already?” Rafe was dumbfounded.
“We are.” You say, equal confusion in your eyes.
“Then why are you still staying away from me after this?” He asks in frustration.
Your lips part, trying to form words but his statement just muddles everything up.
“I…I just didn’t want you to get fed up again.” You say quietly and he grabs both your hands this time, pulling them to his chest.
“Baby, I don’t care, just come back to me, alright?” He says quickly, you don’t think he realized what he called you just now. “I don’t care if you call me six times a day to argue that raisins do not belong in bread or if you hold my hand in every party we go to.”
The heat in your cheeks slowly travels to your neck. “Rafe.”
“You can have me drive you around the island when you get hungry at three in the morning.” He beams in a surge of confidence and affection. “I’ll let you fix my clothes as it pleases you so much, slap as many hello kitty bandaids on my face as you want.” He laughs, making you smile too. “I-I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, just please let’s go back to how we were before, yeah?” He presses a kiss on your knuckles. “I don’t want to hear any of this plan you have. I just want you with me again.”
At this point, there really is nothing you can say and you can only nod. You are glad that Rafe is satisfied with that response.
After a few more minutes of you catching your breath in silence, you decide to call it a night. Rafe, now sobered up, decided to drive, and let you enjoy the passenger seat like you always do.
Despite the conversation you had in the convenience store, both of you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re forgetting something. Like there is something you are purposefully holding back from each other, and it visibly makes you antsy, Rafe more than you.
He taps his finger on the wheel, tugging at the seatbelt every now and then as you continuously shift your eyes from the road and back to the car interior.
When he finally pulls over in front of your gate, neither of you want to move, still waiting for that something to happen. But as another moment passes, you realize that perhaps it’s time to leave it here for now, to take things slowly, see where it takes you. But he isn’t sure if he wants that, to see you slip away again, like the finest sand between his fingers.
“Uhm…thanks for the ride.” You make a move to open the door but Rafe was quick to lock it, making your brows meet in a soft frown. “Rafe-”
He cuts you off by clumsily pulling his seatbelt off, cupping both your cheeks to smash his lips on yours. It wasn’t careful nor romantic, just pure unadulterated need and impulse. You can feel the tremble in each other’s lips, the fear that one of you might pull away, the fear of what comes next, the fear of not having the other’s love returned in the same intensity.
But as your breath mixes, your tears soaking each other’s cheeks, your body slowly melts into each other’s arms. He was desperate, biting and sucking your lips, everything in his kiss wanted to possess you, making your chest tighten in having everything you ever desired at this moment.
Rafe pulls away abruptly, a thin line of spit still connecting your lips when he looks deep into your eyes. “Tell me you still love me.” He begs while he cradles your face.
“Rafe.” You push him away gently but he presses his forehead against yours, his shoulders shaking.
“Tell me, please.” He squeezed his eyes, not knowing what response he would be receiving. He knows he’d die if you reject him, with his soul open and bared to you in its most vulnerable form.
His eyes slowly open when he feels a soft caress on his arm and you’re smiling at him with your tears cascading down your face.
“I love you.”
It felt like Rafe had winter melting in the palm of his hand, giving birth to spring. Whatever doubt and fear is replaced with nothing else but sweet sweet warmth. He is being shrouded with undeniable assurance that made him feel invulnerable yet ironically, impossibly vulnerable. He had nothing moments ago, and suddenly he got a taste of everything, all at once. He has you. Just as you have him.
He laughs and kisses you breathlessly. “God, Y/N, I love you. I love you, I love you.” He litters your face with wet kisses, making you laugh, before he kisses your lips once more, his teeth nibbling on your kiss-swollen lip. “Mmmh, did you get a new lip balm?”
You gently pry his hands from your face as you continue to laugh. He meets your eyes with sheer adoration, head still trying to wrap around the fact that you are his girl. His girl. His girl.
God, he’d gladly die if you told him to, just to prove his dedication.
“I love you.” He whispers gently, intimately, vulnerably.
And with equal passion, you reply, “I love you too.”
Rafe has never felt this kind of happiness in his life, not once. You are his natural high, the ecstasy he’s been chasing. And now that he has you in his arms, he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you there with him.
You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly.
But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean. To suffer from withdrawals. And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.
Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day. The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.
Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter. Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be. They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.
Rafe tried to contact you multiple times. First, through your phone, but you blocked him. Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar. Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees. One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.
He never really does anything right. All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself. You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said. Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.
A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning. Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.
You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls. Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.
Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device. You answer without looking at the caller ID.
“Y/N speaking.” You mumble lazily.
“Hey, girlie.” There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend. “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!” You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance. “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”
You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.
“I’m not in the mood for parties.”
“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.” She whines behind the line. Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long. Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday. He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.
You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.
“I know.” You tried to sound apologetic. “I just can’t, okay?”
She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh. There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.
“I’m picking you up at seven.” She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues. “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.” You can hear her begging behind the phone. She and the other girls are just looking out for you.
With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor. Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier.
“Fine, I’ll come.” You roll your eyes. “Dresscode?”
You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach. “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues. In the community beach house. You dress however you like. I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”
This makes a smile creep on your lips. She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her. “You know I love you, right?”
She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter. “Duh. I love you too.”
“See you later.” You grin. “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”
“Sure, see you!”
You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit. Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them. You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly? Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods. But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work? Yeah, something casual yet put together. It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.
A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts. With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.
“Coming.” You call while trudging over to open the door. There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands. “What is it?”
She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable. “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss. He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”
You press your lips in a firm line. “Tell him I’m not here.”
Your maid smiles apologetically. “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”
Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently. “Just tell him I’m busy.”
“He said you’ll say that.” She mutters, amusement in her tone. “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”
You close your eyes to keep them from rolling. “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.” You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room. “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”
The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room.
It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed. Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs. It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.
You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.
“Oh, right.” You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert. “You’re here.”
Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.
“Yeah.” He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again. “I was waiting for you.”
You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.
“I know.” You say simply. “Gotta go.” You start walking again to your door.
“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up. “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?” He asks hopefully.
“Yes.” You respond without looking at him.
Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you. “Hold on, I can drive you there.” He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him. “I can drive you to the party.” He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.
For a second, you look at him, really look at him. His smile grows wide. He missed having your eyes on him. You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side. He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval. You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too. Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.
“No, thank you.” You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way. He watches you walk away to greet your friends. He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.
He doesn’t understand it.
You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him? You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to. Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.
Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party. You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours. He’ll get another chance there. He’s certain of it.
He didn’t get the chance.
With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly. Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table. You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.
On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves. The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities. You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did. You needed the fresh air.
You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door. You watch him struggle to keep himself up. He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk. You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs.
His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall. You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.
“Motherfu-” He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.
“You alright, JJ?” You chuckle.
He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins. “Y/N?” He drawls out while rubbing his eyes. “You saw everything?”
Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him. “I did.” You smile when he groans out again. “Are you okay?”
He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He glances at you. “Well, this is a strange sight.”
“What is?” You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.
He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch. “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.” He points a thumb behind him. “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”
You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face. “That’s all you heard.”
Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh. “We fought.”
He frowns, back straightening immediately. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.
“No! No, he didn’t.” You reply right away. “Well, at least not physically.”
You watch him grimace. “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”
“That’s okay, JJ. I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”
He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.
“You’re hurt.” You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.
“Huh?” He touches his jaw and winces. “Ow! Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”
“When you decided to attack the floor.” You finish for him and he clears his throat. “You’ll have to disinfect it.”
“Pfft, it’s fine.” He shakes his head. “It’s just a scratch.”
But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.
“I forgot to bring wipes.” You mumble before crouching down in front of him. He swallows at your close proximity. “Come on, JJ. It’s just antibacterial cream.”
He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.
You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.
“It fucking stings.” He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.
“Don’t be a baby!” You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.
JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away. When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.
“Thanks, Y/N.”
You throw him a playful glare. “You’re welcome.”
He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away.
“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”
You blow out a big sigh. “He doesn’t like me.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes. “I wouldn’t blame him. I mean, you saw how I can be.” You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly. “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”
“I don’t.” He says quickly. “I was just being dramatic earlier.” He rubs his nape. “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.” He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him.
You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.
“I liked being taken care of like that.” He whispers and your lips part slightly.
“JJ.” You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you. “You’re drunk.”
He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting. “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”
This…this isn’t right.
You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout. “You’re such a kid, JJ.”
He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean. “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”
“Five minutes?” You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips. “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys. It’s unethical.”
He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly. He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face. “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.” The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up. “I really wanted to kiss you.” Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.
You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice. “You’ll get over it.”
JJ looks at you exasperatedly. “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”
You stifle a laughter. “Oh, so you have feelings for me.” You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.
“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.” He says animatedly. “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”
You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.
“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!” He dodges a punch from you. “You’re like the total package. You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.
“When are you gonna get serious, J?” Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up. “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”
He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out. You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.
And your hair stands on end.
There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.
But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.
He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.
“Rafe.” You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch. He looks at your hand and then your eyes. You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.
“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?” JJ calls.
Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back. Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow. He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.
You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him. For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen. Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.
“God, Y/N. I’m fine.” Rafe pulls your hand from his collar. But you click your tongue at him.
“Come on, I promise you look better with it folded properly.”
Rafe glances at his watch. “We’re running late.”
“Who cares?” You mutter as you straighten the creases of his shirt.
“I do.” He snaps before grabbing hold of your wrist and dragging you out of his room, not letting go until you are standing right next to his car. He opens the door for you and taps his foot as he waits for you to get inside but your steps are too slow with you checking your bag for necessities.
“Tylenol. Mouthwash. First aid kit.” You look up from your bag. “You still have our extra clothes in your trunk, right?”
“Yes.” He spoke impatiently, his bored stare sharpening.
When you finally get inside, he slams the door extra loud, startling you, but you shrug as you fasten your seatbelt.
Rafe jams the key in and ignites the engine. He’s about to step on the pedal when you place a hand on his chest.
“Seatbelt.” You smile sweetly and he bites back a retort, only choosing to roll his eyes and fix his seatbelt.
“Happy?” He spoke sardonically and you scan your eyes over him and grin.
“Yes. Just remember not to go over the speed limit.”
This is why he didn’t like to invite you to parties. You act like a mother hen, and him, your baby chick.
You are glued to his side the whole time. He understands this behavior back when you were six, but you’re fucking adults now, when are you gonna grow out of this?
With you by his side, he can’t score on some chicks. Them thinking that you’re his girl, thus extending his dry spell.
But there’s that new girl by the punch tables. Standard hot girl, lean, tanned, long legs, and bleached hair. She’s shyly looking at him, but she’s not exactly being discreet either.
“I’ll get us something to drink.” He pries your fingers one by one from his arm.
“I can come with you.” You suggest hopefully but he’s already heading to the punch table. You head to the side, sitting on an old and broken down cobblestone wall as the night breeze nips your skin. Just smiling and nodding at the people you know while watching the rest of them have fun.
The party is in full blast. There’s a lot of Tourons joining the party too.
You wonder what’s taking Rafe so long.
Deciding it was best to go look for him, you get up from your seat. You brush the dust off your shorts as you tighten the button up that you stole from Rafe’s closet around your body.
Just as you start looking for him, you notice hurried footsteps and cheers from one side of the party. A guy bumps into you but he quickly hooks an arm on your waist to keep you from falling.
“Oops.” He laughs. “Sorry, Y/N!” It was JJ and you watched him run with the others.
“What’s going on?” You mutter.
You hear a sigh next to you and you turn to see Sarah and Kie, looking at the gathered crowd in disappointment. Sarah turns to you with a tired face. “Rafe got in a fight with a Touron.”
They look at you in pity as horror crosses your face. As you run to the fight, they shake their heads. You’re too good for this world.
You run as fast as your legs can carry you, hands pushing people away just to get through.
When you finally do, you see Rafe with a busted lip, his chest squared up and heaving as he looks at his opponent who is barely standing, leaning his weight on some girl you don’t recognize. His face was red in certain places, his eyelids swollen, two nostrils bleeding. Is he missing a tooth? Good God.
Rafe was yelling insults, how this is his island, he’s about to march over when you throw yourself on him, arms tightly wrapping around his torso to keep him from moving.
“Y/N! Fucking let go!” He grips your arms tightly, adrenaline clearly coursing through his veins.
“No! That’s enough!” You say sternly as you bunch his shirt on your fist. “We should go. Please!”
Rafe scoffs. “I said, let go!”
When you only tighten your grip, he curses and throws the guy one last glare before dragging you with him back to his car.
“What were you thinking, beating up that guy?” You say in disbelief as you make him lean against the hood of his car while you dig through your purse.
He curses at you when you dab a wet wipe on his lip.
“If you don’t get in stupid fights, I won’t have to clean you up now, will I?” You reply angrily before slapping his hand away and dabbing gently. You play oblivious to his searing glare. Trying to ignore his hisses when you accidentally dab too roughly.
“Why’d you decide to make that guy a punching bag, anyway?” You ask while smearing a disinfectant ointment on his wound. Your heart beating wildly at your close proximity.
Rafe clicks his tongue. “His girl was flirting with me.”
You look at him in disappointment, making his blood boil. He hates receiving that look, it reminds him of how he constantly fails his father.
“You must have encouraged her too.” You really don’t know when to stop.
“Shut up, alright?” He pushes past you. “It’s not like I knew she had a fucking boyfriend.”
You sigh as you tidy up your kit. Rafe opens the door for you and you take your time in getting in.
“Why’d you have to flirt with all the girls at every party? Can you think with your mind next time and not with your dick?” You mutter under your breath as you glare at nothing in particular, upset that he’s got himself into trouble, and upset that it’s because of a girl. Again.
“That’s it.” Rafe slams the door before you can take a step in, the impact makes you gasp, your fingers nearly crushed by the door. Your eyes are wide and afraid as you look at him. He backs you up until your back is flushed against the door. He rests an arm over your head, as he points a finger dangerously close to your face.
“Rafe-”
“I’m fucking done with your bullshit.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “If you think you have the right to speak to me this way, let me tell you something. You don’t.”
You bite your lower lip, eyes turning glassy as you fight the urge to cry. “I’m just concerned.” Whatever immunity you thought you had from his anger crumbles like sand on the palm of your hand. You’re no exemption from his outbursts, apparently. You’re just like everybody to him.
“I didn’t ask for your concern.” He laughs dryly. “And I don’t care about your stupid crush on me, either.”
Your lips part as you blanch, looking at him in embarrassment and frustration. Your palms sweat as your fingers twitch, wanting nothing else but to get swallowed by the earth.
“Yeah. You think I don’t know about your feelings for me?” He laughs at you before he slams a fist on his car, making you scream and cover your ears in fear. “It’s kinda cute, you know. Watching you chase after me, clean after me, do everything I say like a pathetic puppy waiting for a treat.”
Something inside you snaps. “Stop talking.” You hiccup, tears dripping down your cheeks.
Huh, it’s been a while since he saw those tears.
“Why?” He asks in feign concern. “Am I hurting your feelings?”
“Yes.” You say shamelessly, making him scoff. “I just wanna go home, please,”
Mascara has ruined your pretty makeup, tears wetting your cheeks as your hair sticks on your temples, making you look disheveled and wrecked.
Rafe looks at you blankly as he runs a tongue on his tooth. “Fine.” He runs a hand over his face as he attempts to calm his breathing. He’s tired of your bullshit for today, he’ll deal with you tomorrow. “Let’s get you home.”
He opens the door for you and you get in without sparing him a glance, your shaking hands quickly fastening the seat belt. Rafe looks at you in silence but your eyes are dropped to your feet, adamant on not looking at him.
“You crybaby.” He spoke lowly and you closed your eyes. “Get it through your dumb head, alright? I don’t fucking like you.”
You whimper, arms wrapping around yourself as you shrink away from him.
“Stop doting on me like we’re dating.” He continues. “You’re fucking embarrassing.”
“Just take me home, please.” You sob and for a moment he feels the need to wipe your tears but he stops himself, a frown creases in his brows.
“And don’t fucking boss me around. You’re not my mom.” He slams the door and the rest of the drive is filled with nothing but your sniffles.
The thing about Rafe Cameron is that he’s impulsive. Always speaking his mind without thinking of the consequences. He is very quick to anger yet very quick to calm down after the stimulus vanishes from his line of sight.
You can’t keep up with the shift of his emotions throughout the ride. With him honking at every driver in front of him then suddenly nudging you and pointing at something down the street, laughing like he didn’t just murder you inside. He really doesn’t understand what he’s done. He’s a child and you wanna strangle yourself for ever letting yourself love a man like him.
“Shit, Y/N, calm down.” He groans as he parks outside your house.
You attempt to open the door but he clicks the lock in place.
“Let me out.” You whimper.
He rests his elbow against the door and scratches his chin. “Not until you calm down.”
“I’m calm.” You respond in a shaking voice.
“Uhuh.” He hums as he rakes his eyes over your face. “Can’t take a rejection, princess?”
You don’t respond, hands tightening over your bag.
“We’re not in fucking elementary school anymore.” He props his head against his knuckles as he grins at you. “And I’m not Rafey anymore.”
“I know.” You spoke harshly as your bloodshot eyes stared forward.
He chuckles. “Good, that’s good.”
“Yes. The ‘Rafey’ I know would never hurt me like this. You’re not him, not anymore.” You stare at him blankly. “He’s gone and I can see that now.”
Rafe straightens up in his seat, biting his cheek as he nods at you, though his mind is still trying to wrap around your words.
“Right. It’s good that you get it now.” But why does he suddenly regret all this?
He’s been trying to get you to understand this for the longest time. And now that you finally do, all the challenge between you is gone, and he is lying if what is going to happen after this does not make him anxious. Is this another one of your reverse psychology tricks? You know it always worked on him.
You unbuckle your seatbelt and he clears his throat, swiftly opening his door and races to your side but you beat him to it. He swallows thickly as he shoves his sweating palms in his pocket.
Rafe walks you to your gate but you don’t acknowledge him, even if he pushes the gates open for you. He tries to catch your eyes but he starts to bleed with the background around you, no longer relevant enough to be looked at.
When you lock the gates, he leans on it and watches you turn away and head to your house. Leaving without the usual cheek kisses and “see you laters”
He clears his throat. “Uh…so, tomorrow?” A desperate attempt to keep you with him a little longer.
You pause and you turn to look at him with your face cold and hard, so devoid of emotions. He never thought you’d be capable of holding such a look. “What about tomorrow?”
He grips on the thin metal of your gate, the weathered paint chipping and clinging to his palms. “You said you wanted to check out the ice cream parlor that just opened?” He adds the charming smile he knows you like but your face remains blank.
“I changed my mind.” You start to walk away again but he calls your name and you look at him with a small frown on your eyebrows. You really wanted nothing to do with him anymore, huh?
“I’ll call you later?”
“What for?” You cross your arms and for the first time, he is rendered speechless, his tongue heavy as he racked his brain for a response.
You’re right, what for?
Rafe shrugs while he tugs at his collar. “I don’t know. Don’t you like it when we call?”
You sigh. “Goodbye, Rafe.”
He watches you leave and he tightens his grip on the gate, making the metal dig on his palms.
“Goddammit!”
He messed up. He messed up real bad. And he’s not sure he can still fix this.
You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly.
But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean. To suffer from withdrawals. And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.
Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day. The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.
Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter. Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be. They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.
Rafe tried to contact you multiple times. First, through your phone, but you blocked him. Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar. Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees. One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.
He never really does anything right. All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself. You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said. Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.
A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning. Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.
You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls. Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.
Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device. You answer without looking at the caller ID.
“Y/N speaking.” You mumble lazily.
“Hey, girlie.” There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend. “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!” You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance. “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”
You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.
“I’m not in the mood for parties.”
“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.” She whines behind the line. Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long. Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday. He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.
You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.
“I know.” You tried to sound apologetic. “I just can’t, okay?”
She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh. There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.
“I’m picking you up at seven.” She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues. “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.” You can hear her begging behind the phone. She and the other girls are just looking out for you.
With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor. Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier.
“Fine, I’ll come.” You roll your eyes. “Dresscode?”
You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach. “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues. In the community beach house. You dress however you like. I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”
This makes a smile creep on your lips. She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her. “You know I love you, right?”
She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter. “Duh. I love you too.”
“See you later.” You grin. “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”
“Sure, see you!”
You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit. Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them. You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly? Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods. But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work? Yeah, something casual yet put together. It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.
A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts. With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.
“Coming.” You call while trudging over to open the door. There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands. “What is it?”
She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable. “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss. He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”
You press your lips in a firm line. “Tell him I’m not here.”
Your maid smiles apologetically. “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”
Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently. “Just tell him I’m busy.”
“He said you’ll say that.” She mutters, amusement in her tone. “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”
You close your eyes to keep them from rolling. “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.” You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room. “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”
The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room.
It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed. Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs. It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.
You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.
“Oh, right.” You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert. “You’re here.”
Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.
“Yeah.” He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again. “I was waiting for you.”
You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.
“I know.” You say simply. “Gotta go.” You start walking again to your door.
“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up. “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?” He asks hopefully.
“Yes.” You respond without looking at him.
Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you. “Hold on, I can drive you there.” He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him. “I can drive you to the party.” He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.
For a second, you look at him, really look at him. His smile grows wide. He missed having your eyes on him. You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side. He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval. You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too. Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.
“No, thank you.” You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way. He watches you walk away to greet your friends. He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.
He doesn’t understand it.
You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him? You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to. Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.
Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party. You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours. He’ll get another chance there. He’s certain of it.
He didn’t get the chance.
With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly. Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table. You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.
On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves. The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities. You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did. You needed the fresh air.
You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door. You watch him struggle to keep himself up. He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk. You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs.
His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall. You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.
“Motherfu-” He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.
“You alright, JJ?” You chuckle.
He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins. “Y/N?” He drawls out while rubbing his eyes. “You saw everything?”
Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him. “I did.” You smile when he groans out again. “Are you okay?”
He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He glances at you. “Well, this is a strange sight.”
“What is?” You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.
He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch. “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.” He points a thumb behind him. “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”
You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face. “That’s all you heard.”
Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh. “We fought.”
He frowns, back straightening immediately. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.
“No! No, he didn’t.” You reply right away. “Well, at least not physically.”
You watch him grimace. “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”
“That’s okay, JJ. I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”
He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.
“You’re hurt.” You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.
“Huh?” He touches his jaw and winces. “Ow! Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”
“When you decided to attack the floor.” You finish for him and he clears his throat. “You’ll have to disinfect it.”
“Pfft, it’s fine.” He shakes his head. “It’s just a scratch.”
But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.
“I forgot to bring wipes.” You mumble before crouching down in front of him. He swallows at your close proximity. “Come on, JJ. It’s just antibacterial cream.”
He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.
You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.
“It fucking stings.” He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.
“Don’t be a baby!” You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.
JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away. When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.
“Thanks, Y/N.”
You throw him a playful glare. “You’re welcome.”
He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away.
“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”
You blow out a big sigh. “He doesn’t like me.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes. “I wouldn’t blame him. I mean, you saw how I can be.” You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly. “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”
“I don’t.” He says quickly. “I was just being dramatic earlier.” He rubs his nape. “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.” He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him.
You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.
“I liked being taken care of like that.” He whispers and your lips part slightly.
“JJ.” You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you. “You’re drunk.”
He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting. “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”
This…this isn’t right.
You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout. “You’re such a kid, JJ.”
He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean. “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”
“Five minutes?” You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips. “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys. It’s unethical.”
He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly. He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face. “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.” The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up. “I really wanted to kiss you.” Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.
You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice. “You’ll get over it.”
JJ looks at you exasperatedly. “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”
You stifle a laughter. “Oh, so you have feelings for me.” You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.
“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.” He says animatedly. “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”
You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.
“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!” He dodges a punch from you. “You’re like the total package. You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.
“When are you gonna get serious, J?” Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up. “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”
He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out. You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.
And your hair stands on end.
There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.
But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.
He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.
“Rafe.” You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch. He looks at your hand and then your eyes. You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.
“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?” JJ calls.
Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back. Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow. He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.
You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him. For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen. Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.
Chapter Synopsis: The Simp, the Queen, and the Tension in Between
Warning: Angst, swearing, one sided pining, shallow/light writing, you and Rafe are equally stupid in your own ways.
Word Count: 2834
4 of 4
Rafe wasn’t sure if what he said to you was right.
Because he is not enjoying whatever game you are playing at the moment.
A week after the incident, you came to the country club but not for him. For the past hour, he can hear you just a few tables away, giggling with your friends. All you did when you came in was say ‘hi’ to him and Kelce, he had to bite back a comment when you gave Topper a basket full of freshly baked cookies and brownies, which you told him to share because everybody helped in searching for you.
He can recall you saying that you’ll never bake for anybody but him. Liar.
Topper reluctantly set the basket down to a chair hidden from Rafe’s eyes as it was not helping his temper at all.
When Rafe said to learn how to take care of yourself, he didn’t mean to subtract him from your life. You’re overdoing it with the whole self-help journey you’re on. Why couldn’t you just tell him about your day again instead of writing in some pink bedazzled journal you got for yourself?
What’s bothering him is that you are doing just as he told you to do, so he can’t be angry about it at all. You are just healing, or whatever shit your girlfriends call this thing you’re doing.
Your voice used to be grating on his ears, you always spoke so loudly and so close to him and if he would let you, you could go on and on. But with your absence, he feels like the silence got to him more than your voice ever could.
With you choosing to hang out with people who are not him, he feels like everything he’s doing is wrong. Like he’s putting ice in wine or putting on conditioner before shampooing his hair. He’s fucking selfish and he knows it. This is probably how you felt when he’s hanging out with Sofia, huh? Probably even worse.
Rafe glances at you briefly and he does not like how you are smiling on your phone. You look prettier, almost glowing. It’s easy to miss when you’re always by his side, clinging on his arm, but now that you took a step back, he can actually look at you. He misses having those doe eyes staring up at him, he misses having those doe eyes on him.
You’re not seriously happier when you’re not with him, are you?
“Golf?” Kelce asks just to get Rafe to stop brooding over you.
Topper agrees in a split second, nodding at Kelce, silently thanking him for initiating.
Rafe had to go with them. As much as he’d like to sit there and indirectly listen to you talk about starting a clothing line, he felt fucking pathetic.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
He kinda wished you’re just on some guy’s arms, at least he can physically do something about it. But what is he gonna do now? Punch your fucking sketchbooks and yoga mats?
You look up as they pass your table, smiling brightly.
“We’re playing golf.” Rafe spoke over you, his eyes squinting at your new screensaver. He never felt such rivalry before, especially with a feline. “Wanna come?”
Ignoring the distasteful glare of your friends, he watches you weigh the pros and cons in your head before you shake your head. “I’m still hanging out with my friends. Next time?”
Rafe tongues his cheek as he nods. He’s not yet used to hearing you turn down his invitations.
“Alright.” He glances at your phone one last time. Stupid cat. “Next time.”
But ‘next time’ isn’t really happening. You don’t come as often to the Country Club. He is getting updates on your whereabouts through your fucking Instagram. You used to update him about everything you do. His phone rings at least twice in an hour. Now, the only notification he gets is from your posts. It was pathetic and he knew it.
The time you used to waste just listening to him and his friends talk was spent on you creating clothing for yourself. He liked the smile on your face when you get to wear a new project you’ve been working on. Even if it’s on his phone screen.
Another thing he came to hate was the comment section of your posts. A good portion of your followers are men and they are not ashamed of showing their admiration for you. Rafe would crinkle his nose upon reading the strange comments, not understanding them. You ate and left no crumbs? You slay? Did you kill someone? Well, if you need help with a body, he can give you a hand.
The Country Club swimming pool wasn't exactly crowded when he and the boys decided to take a swim, just an occasional splashing and laughter from a family or two who decided to enjoy the pool, but despite the relaxing atmosphere, he can’t enjoy it one bit. You’d be lathering thick layers of sunscreen on his face by now if you were there with him.
Topper and Kelce are off getting drinks, leaving Rafe alone to lean on the recliner.
Rafe feels like shit. He feels like he’s just been demoted from the coolest job.
He bites back a groan when a tanning reflector sends a harsh ray directly on his eyes.
A hand steadies his face and Rafe’s vision turns multiple shades darker. He blinks up and sees you looking at him unimpressed.
“Y/N.” He sits up to look at you, adjusting the sunglasses you slipped on him. His eyes squinted to look at your face.
“Rafe.” You respond as you sit on the recliner beside him.
His hand ran over his mouth. Shit he had no idea you’d be coming too. He didn’t bother to shave, and he didn’t miss how your eyes linger on his stubble.
He has to divert your attention somehow. He hasn’t been taking care of himself as well as before and he didn’t want to give you more reason to lose interest. Rafe glances at the jewelry resting on your bosom. “Still wearing my name around your neck?” God, that sounded rude! His eye twitches at his own stupidity but continues to observe you from under his shades before smirking, just to take control of the situation.
You pinch the jewelry. “Does it look bad?” You gather your hair on one side and reach for the lock, cursing when you keep missing it.
“What are you…What are you doing?” He lowers the sunglasses to rest on the bridge of his nose so he can look at you better.
“I’m taking it off.”
Rafe pulls your arm down a little too harshly, startling you. “Sorry.” He laughs like the asshole he is. “Don’t take it off.”
You blow your hair out of the way as you look at the water, gently pulling your arm from his hold.
“Want me to put sunscreen on you?” Rafe reaches for your bag but you pull it away from his reach. “Come on, I can rub your back just how you like.”
He expected a giddy smile but you gave him an uncomfortable look. “No uhm…I’m okay. I’m here to meet a friend, not to tan.” And not for him.
“What friend are we talking about?” He asks casually, now reaching for his beer. Topper and Kelce sure are taking their time, good.
“A classmate in fashion school. He’s visiting.”
“A guy.” He says, stupidly.
You give him one of those looks that tell him he just said something unintelligent.
“Yes, Rafe. A guy.”
The laugh he gave has a dangerous lilt to it. His lips were smiling but his eyes were hard on you. “You’re meeting a guy while you’re dressed like that?”
It’s one of those days when he’s being completely unreasonable. You massage your brows to ward off an oncoming headache.
“I don’t like it.” He tells you, a smile still on his face.
You roll your eyes at him. “Like that changes anything.” You’re in a pool, what were you supposed to wear? Fucking pyjamas?
Rafe pulls your recliner harshly until his knee is slotted between your thighs and you shift away to keep his knee from brushing on your skin.
“I’ve been an ass to you, I know that, alright?” Rafe admits and he clutches your arm in a secure hold when you attempt to pull away. He quickly lets go when your glare shifts to his hands. “But you gotta stop like you fucking own me.”
“Ugh, me again.” You fume, brows frowning deeply. That’s exactly what you’ve been doing already and what he’s been saying earlier is fucking ironic to that statement.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” He laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender like that would make him appear innocent.
“Yes you did! In the Country Club when that server spilled a drink all over you. You said a lot of awful things to me.” You argue.
“Come on, sweetheart. You deserved an earful after that behavior.” He looks at you condescendingly.
Your chest tightens as a building heat rises to your head, the annoyance makes your body itch and your fingers curl to a fist. You can’t believe he’s still saying that after everything. “Are you really taking her side?” You hiccup as your eyes begin to water, you quickly bite down any sob that threatens to spill out.
Rafe had to do a double take to realize he has made you cry.
“I’m not, I’m not!” He glances around him to find something to help you with. He reaches for the shirt he took off before lounging and dabs your cheeks with it. “I fucking hate it when you cry.”
This only made you cry harder, pushing his hand away but taking his shirt to bury your face into.
“Shit…uhm. Alright, I’m sorry I was being mean.” He taps your shoulder. “Stop crying, goddammit.”
You lean your forehead on his chest and he stiffly wraps his arms around you.
“Is it because she’s so much prettier?” Your sobs are muffled. “She will never love you like I do.” You cling on Rafe, making him press his lips in a thin line. “Why do you like her but hate me so much, Rafe?” You look at him with your lips bloated from when you were trying to hold back your tears.
“Sweetheart, I don’t hate you.” Rafe chuckles as he places a hand on your back to rub it. “You just need to respect my boundaries sometimes.”
You calm down as you listen to him talk and he runs over his thumb over your clumped up lashes.
“So pretty.” He whispers and he pinches your cheek. “You need to understand that there are things that I have to enjoy on my own.”
“You don’t like it when I k-keep you company?” You frown at him and he chuckles while tucking your hair behind your ear.
“I do. I enjoy your company more than anyone else’s. But you can’t lash out like the way you did in the Country Club.”
You huff. “She was touching you.”
Rafe frowns. “Once. You touch me like that all the time.” He brings your hands to rest on his pecs for emphasis but you easily slip your hands from his.
“You like her.” You say barely above a whisper, eyes downcast. “I saw you at the party.”
“She’s pretty.” He bites back a laugh when your cheeks bubble in annoyance. “And I was stupid.” He says with a smile and you nod your head in approval.
“You were flirting.” You point out as you play with the drawstring of his short just to keep your hands busy.
“We were.” Rafe says. “And I regret it everyday. You got hit on because I was entertaining her. You got in trouble because of me.”
“And you hurt my feelings.” You add.
“And I hurt your feelings.” Rafe echoes.
You let go of the drawstring to sit up straighter. “Why did you do it?”
Rafe shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He raises a hand to stop a retort from you. “I wish I could tell you why but I really don’t know and I’m sorry. It was just something new, a change of pace and I kinda went with it.”
He presses his lips together as he watches your eyes blank out. Shoulders slumping as you get farther and farther away. He gently reaches for you, hooking his hands under your knees to pull you in and you don’t have it in you to resist.
“She’s also not as annoying as you. Not as clingy. Not as loud.” Rafe pulls you closer every time he adds something to the list, your lips are wobbling now. “But in the end it was for those reasons why I realized I couldn’t be with her.”
You look at him from under your lashes and he smiles at you, it wasn’t condescending nor did it hold malice, it was just a smile and the gaze he held with you so intimate.
“I was missing you like crazy.” He whispers like a boy telling his mother about a secret crush. “I thought I was going crazy when I started hearing your voice or my phone ringing.”
Gently, you return his smile. “You missed me?” It was all you heard.
He clicks his tongue playfully. “I just said I did.”
“So we can go back to being best friends again?”
Rafe winces and you tilt your head to the side.
“What?” You ask.
“I was hoping for something more but I’ll take it, I guess.”
You chuckle at his antics, a brow raising. “Did you want to be my boyfriend?”
He rolls his eyes. “You think I’d be having this conversation with you if I didn’t?”
“The audacity.” You gasp teasingly. “After everything you’ve done to me?”
Rafe groans and buries his nose on your hair. “I already apologized.” It’s kinda hot when you call him out on his bullshit.
You rub your chin. “I don’t know, maybe you think I’m just another pretty girl.”
“Well, you are a pretty girl.” Rafe scoops you up so you’re seated on his lap and you rest your arms on his shoulders.
“Are you just tricking me so you can get in my pants?” You nuzzle your nose with his and he rests his hands on the globes of your ass.
“You’re not wearing pants.” He grins, making you groan in defeat.
“You know what I mean.” You whine as you run your fingers on his nape, pulling at the short strands of his hair.
Rafe nods, eyes nearly rolling back at the sensation of your delicate fingers. “Baby, I don’t need tricks to get in your pants. You like me way too much.” This earns him a slap on his chest.
Shyly, you just look at him and he raises a perfect brow in question, his lips quirking up boyishly.
“You really like me?” You mumble.
He chuckles and pecks your lips. “Go a little beyond that.”
“Beyond?” You ask dumbly and breathlessly.
“I think I love you, baby.” He grins and you smile brightly after hearing him confirm it. To his dismay, you get off his lap and you stretch, leaving him confused…and a bit frustrated.
“Ugh, finally. I was starting to think we’ll be having a no comfort angst instead of a slowburn multi-chaptered fic.”
“Slowburn fic…what?” He’s completely lost.
You shake your head, bending down to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “I love you too, Rafe.”
He cannot fathom just how you manage to baffle him every time. So predictable yet erratic. It’s keeping him on his toes.
“And you can’t be my boyfriend just yet.”
“What!”
You giggle at him from your shoulders. “Come on, you gotta do better than just confess, romance me a little, okay?”
He can’t fucking believe this.
But Rafe Cameron accepts the challenge.
“Oh, my classmate’s here.” You say excitedly when you open your phone.
“Wear my shirt. I can’t have you meeting other men dressed up like that.” He eyes your swimsuit in distaste.
“I designed this, asshole.”
“Oh, no wonder it looks really nice on you.”
You look at him blankly and he smiles like a puppy waiting for a treat. “I’m not wearing your shirt.”
“You’re not wearing it?” He asks.
“No.”
“Fine.” He nods while sipping his beer again. “I’ll just break his nose when he looks at you for too long.”
“OH MY GOD, RAFE!”
He smiles as he watches you stomp around in anger. You’re muttering about how insufferable he is, how unreasonable, but he can’t get mad at your insults, not when amusement and affection bubbles on his chest, making him feel like a schoolboy.
“You know you’re my girl, right?”
You immediately stop pacing, anger melting off of you, lips turning to a pout as your eyes get glassy.
Chapter Synopsis: Crybaby, Love Guru, and the Sleep Deprived
Warning: Angst, swearing, one sided pining, shallow/light writing, you and Rafe are equally stupid in your own ways.
Word Count: 2057
3 of 4
Your eyes were bloodshot and dry by the time your engine stalls. It makes the runabout lurch and shake before coming to a complete halt and just getting rocked by the gentle waves. You glance down and bite your lip when you see the indicator for the gas tank.
Great, you just successfully stranded yourself in the middle of the ocean at night. You clench your teeth when a strong gust of wind makes goosebumps erupt from your arms. Your mom and dad could be worried sick. This was a bad idea.
“No shit, Sherlock.” You mutter to yourself.
You just had to make a mess out of everything. First with Rafe, then running away from the party, and the cherry on top, here you are, in the middle of pitch black waters, you can’t see anything, no lights from the island, no boats.
Slumping in your seat, you check your pockets for your phone.
“Really?” Groaning, you climb over to the built-in mattress over the stern when you realize your phone has zero service. With your lips wobbling, you hug your knees to your chest. Your breathing started building up as you look around the dark canvas around you.
You wanted to curse someone, anyone, but deep down you know you have only yourself to blame but you don’t want to admit that either. Why can’t Rafe just forgive you like the way he did before? You always mess up but he always makes you feel better too, he talks shit about anybody who wronged you, but why is he taking her side?
A bloodcurdling scream scratches at your throat as you lashed out, your delicate knuckles punching over the mattress, fat tears soaking your cheeks as the air in your lungs gets thinner and thinner. You gnash your teeth when the mattress only dips to receive your hits. Shallow lines appear on the leather surface as your nails accidentally scratch them. You grip your hair, scalp burning as you pull in frustration.
“I said I was sorry!” You scream into the ocean. While you blindly hit around, you miss how your clenched fist slams over the metal sticking out at the edge of the mattress. The impact made an unmistakable sound of a crunch that had your stomach dropping to a pit.
Gulping, you look up into the sky, hiding your hand from your line of sight as you cannot believe how you could manage to make everything worse.
A shiver rushes over your body when you feel warm liquid drip on your hand. The pulsating pain spreading from your fist has your entire hand shaking and bile threatened to rise to your throat.
With a gulp of air, you bring your left hand up to look at the damage.
Your pinky was dislocated, it is bent at an odd angle, the skin between it and your ring finger was split and dark hot liquid was pouring out, you can barely see from the lack of light at the moment but you see it staining half your hand.
Rafe would have taken care of you if he was there. You sobbed as you gently clutch your hand, bringing it to your chest.
You have to do it.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you held your bent pinky and with a couple of sharp breaths, you pulled it sharply to realign your bones.
Your scream was pure agony, spit dribbling down your chin as you collapsed on the mattress. With shaky breaths you willed yourself not to pass out as you climbed off to search the compartment for the first aid kit with the minimal help the flashlight from your phone could offer.
It wasn’t restocked, just your luck.
Grabbing the clumps of gauze pads, you press hard on your wound, your eyes squeezed shut the entire time. With no antiseptics, you just decided to carefully tape your pinky to your ring finger to immobilize it and try to prevent more damage.
Over your phone, you inspected your hand, the side of your palm is starting to swell and heat up. There were no painkillers in your first aid kit. With cold sweat dripping your forehead and soaking your back, you figured that trying to sleep to numb the pain would be the next option.
It’s alright. Your dad will find you. He’s probably out searching right now. You just hope Rafe wouldn’t know. You made yourself look pathetic in front of him, you can’t handle anything worse.
A loud call of your name was what woke you. The sun was slowly rising, you can see it in the far distance, just barely above the horizon. Groaning, you get up, immediately wincing when you accidentally lean on your injured hand. It’s swollen really badly now.
“Y/N!”
You stand up on your shaky legs and see Topper waving at you.
If he’s here, Rafe could possibly be looking for you too. You can only imagine the earful he would give you.
Smiling weakly, you wave back.
“Jesus, Y/N! You scared us. Disappearing like that.” Topper tells you when he gets close enough.
“I’m sorry.” You can’t even look him in the eyes. “I uhm…I ran out of gas.”
Topper scratched his head. “Yeah, I figured.”
He helps you to his boat, giving you a bottle of water while he works on the lines so he can tow your boat. He was not happy when he saw your hand but upon seeing how broken you already look, he chose to shut up.
“How did you find me?” You ask, your throat still sore from screaming and crying all night.
“Rafe told us where to go.” Topper turns to you and smiles. “He’s looking for you. Kelce too.” He says just to break the silence and you hum. The sun is slowly climbing up, making the sky look like it had watercolor poured all over it. “We started looking for you last night. Kelce and I had to go home to rest for a while and started searching again before dawn.”
You squeeze the empty water bottle a little too tight. “I’m really sorry for causing trouble.”
“Nah, I get it. Kelce told us about what happened at the party. I have known you for years now, Y/N, and frankly, I’m not that surprised you did this.” Topper chuckles and your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Hey! We’re close enough to the island.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket. “I should tell Rafe I found you. He’s up all night, looking for you.”
Your eyes widen upon hearing that. “Maybe,” you interject a little too loudly, “maybe we shouldn’t do that.” You say, more calmly.
Topper glances at you from his shoulder. “Okay.” He hesitates but he slips his phone back to his pocket. “Why?”
Smiling awkwardly, you stand next to him, wobbling a little with the speed of Topper’s boat cutting the waves. “I don’t want him to see me right now, at this state, especially when his anger is at its peak.”
“I’d say he’s more of uhm…worried than angry.” Topper smiles and you return it weakly.
You’re not too sure if you believe that.
“I really messed up, Topper.” You sigh as you lean on the boat. “I was so protective of him. He’s probably sick from how I am all over him all the time.”
He clears his throat, not really knowing how to tread through this conversation with you.
“Maybe it’s because you’re a little too…easy?” He winces when you whip your head to him.
“What did you say?”
Fuck, you sound pissed.
“Look, you’re giving Rafe everything he wants. There’s no challenge, so why would he pursue you?” He tried to explain as kindly as he can but there’s no easy way to put it. “You need to put yourself first before him, let him see your worth instead of selling yourself to him all day everyday.”
As much as you want to kick Topper’s knees inward, he’s right.
“You think he’ll like me more if I stay away?”
He grimaces at the thought, he could potentially start another conflict.
“Don't stay away, just…prioritize yourself more? You know, reservations.”
“Right.” You mumble. “You’re a great guy, Topper. I know you’re Rafe’s friend, not mine, but I’m really glad you’re doing all of this.”
Topper flashes you a smile. “What are you talking about? I’m your friend too.”
“Really?” You look at him brightly.
“Yeah! I’m actually hurt right now.” He jokes. “All this time I thought we were really good friends. Do you just see me as an acquaintance?”
“Neighbor.” You reply cheekily, making him laugh. “I should invite you to join girls' night. You’d blend in really nicely, plus you give great advice.” This immediately cuts his laughter and he clears his throat, a soft blush coating his nose, making you elbow him playfully.
Your father picks you up from the docks and rushes you to the hospital, after thanking Topper, to have your hand looked at by a doctor.
Despite the painkillers they gave you, it was excruciating, having your finger realigned properly. You can’t even laugh at the compliment the doctor gave you for packing quite a punch. With a change of clothes and properly splinted hand, you sit patiently on one of the benches in the hospital.
You’re waiting for your father to come back from paying the medical bill when rushed footsteps echo around the hospital corridor.
A pair of shoes that you know too well, as it was you who helped him pick it out, stops in front of you.
“Y/N.”
You look to the side, not really wanting to see him at the moment. Topper or your father must have contacted him. It was silly of you to think you can hide, knowing how persistent he can be.
“Y/N.” He spoke a little firmer, making you look up briefly before you look away again.
“Not now, please, Rafe.” You sigh, too exhausted to handle his outbursts.
He sits next to you, you glance discreetly just in time to see him running a hand over his face.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“You seriously think I don’t know that?” You roll your eyes as you glare up at him. “I of all people know that, Rafe!”
He faces you, his eyes wide in anger. “You don’t!” He breathes out a cold laugh as he taps his index and middle finger on your temple. “You…You weren’t thinking and you don’t know anything! At all!” You flinch slightly at his rising voice and he immediately backs up. He glares at the wall, his shirt stretching as he sighs.
You drop your eyes to his twitching hand. You wanted to hold it but you’re scared you’ll do something he doesn’t like again.
“I was up all night, looking all over for you.” Rafe whispered harshly between clenched teeth. “And you just couldn’t settle with being stranded in the middle of the ocean, you had to hurt yourself too!”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” You whispered.
Rafe runs a hand over his buzzed hair, shaking his head. “No, no, no, Y/N. I leave you for a while and you pull these stunts. You’re becoming a liability.”
You gasp as you look at him with scared eyes. He couldn’t possibly mean that.
He leans close to you, until his warm breath is fanning over your face. “I can’t trust you with yourself.”
Despite the fight you are having you couldn’t stop saying the next words that fall from your lips. “So take care of me!” You cry as you shut your eyes, tears rushing out uncontrollably.
Rafe licks his lips, his eyes watching you sharply. God, you’re fucking dependent on him. He pulls you closer and presses a kiss on your forehead but you pull away. He presses his lips together. You’ve never done that before, you never pull away when he initiates physical contact.
He puts a hand over your nape and pulls you back in. “Listen, I can’t be around all the time, okay? Do you understand?” You nod at him as you struggle to wipe your tears. “I need to see that you can take care of yourself too, can you do that?”
You nod at him again but he clicks his tongue.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, Rafe.”
Lovesick Little Thing
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