𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄 ౨ৎ

Vinnie warned you about Hera before you even met her.

“She’s a princess. Just so you know.”

You’d laughed at the time, thinking he meant it in a cute way.

He didn’t.

He meant it in the “this cat thinks she owns my soul and will actively try to ruin your life” kind of way.

And he was right.

The first time you came over and sat on his couch, Hera jumped up behind you, stared at your head for a solid five seconds, and smacked your ponytail.

No hesitation. No fear.

Like, how dare you breathe near her couch and her man?

You turned around, blinking. “Did she just…?”

“She’s just saying hi,” Vinnie said casually, sitting beside you like this was normal.

Then Hera slinked across the back of the couch and sat behind Vinnie’s head, tail flicking, staring down at you like a queen assessing a peasant.

You tried to ignore it.

Until she started slowly pawing at his hoodie string. Then his hair. Then his shoulder.

You reached out to pet her.

She hissed.

At you.

Vinnie just smiled and said, “That’s her love language.”

It wasn’t.

After that, things got worse.

You weren’t allowed to cuddle him on the couch without Hera inserting herself literally, climbing onto Vinnie’s chest and wedging between your faces.

You’d be mid-conversation, knees pulled up on his lap, and Hera would leap into the space, plop down, and curl up like you were the third wheel.

She’d purr only when you weren’t touching her.

Rub her face against Vinnie’s hand, then swipe at yours when you reached over.

Once, she pushed your phone off the coffee table while staring you dead in the eyes.

Another time, you woke up to her sitting on your stomach in the dark like a shadow demon. Just staring. No purrs. No blinking.

Vinnie, of course, didn’t believe the full extent of it.

“She’s a sweetheart.”

“She clawed my sock off my foot.”

“She’s just playing.”

“She growled.”

“She’s expressive.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You raised a little villain.”

“She’s perfect.”

He said it while petting her like the most precious being in the world. Hera purred and gave you a smug look like she knew she’d won.

But then there were the cracks.

One night, you were half asleep on Vinnie’s chest while the two of you watched some late night anime rerun. Hera was curled up in her usual corner of the couch, giving you both the silent treatment.

You shifted, pulling the blanket up. Vinnie rubbed your back. You yawned, and his hand moved to your hair.

And Hera meowed.

Once.

Then again. Louder.

Vinnie looked over. “What?”

She meowed a third time, then stood, stomped across the cushions, and planted herself directly between the two of you, purring aggressively while staring at him.

He blinked. “You’re not serious.”

She pushed her head into his chin.

You stared. “Is she trying to…?”

“Shh. She’s asserting dominance.”

You rolled your eyes. “Over me?”

“She says you’ve gotten too comfortable.”

Eventually, a truce formed.

You brought her a treat once those freeze dried chicken ones she apparently considered worthy of her time.

She ate it, then sat on your thigh for exactly six seconds.

That was the day she allowed you into the kingdom. Kind of.

Now, she’ll sometimes curl up at the foot of the bed when you’re over.

But only if she gets there first.

She still gives you side eye when you kiss Vinnie in the kitchen.

Still knocks your things off the counter occasionally.

Still positions herself directly in the middle of the bed like a fluffy little wall.

But now?

If you stretch out your hand slowly… she doesn’t hiss.

She might even brush her cheek against your knuckle.

And sometimes only when she thinks no one’s watching she curls up near your hip and pretends she’s just trying to get warm.

But Vinnie knows.

And he grins every time.

Because Hera might still act like you’re stealing her man…

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

He told you not to come. You showed up anyway. You were already crying by the time you walked to the porch. You told yourself to breathe, to keep your voice steady, to not let it turn into another screaming match. But deep down you knew it was already ruined. You knew the second he texted you back with one word. Don’t.

He never says no.

Not to you. But lately, everything has been different. He snaps faster. You yell louder. The space between fights gets smaller and the bruises on your heart last longer. You used to talk. Now you wait for the next explosion.

You knock anyway.

He opens the door a minute later, shirtless, pissed off, breathing hard like you just woke him up. You probably did. His hair’s a mess and his knuckles look red. The whole house smells like smoke and cologne.

“What do you want,” he says flat. You don’t answer. You walk past him like you still have the right.

He doesn’t stop you. Just shuts the door and follows, shoulders tight and jaw locked. Your heart is already in your throat. You sit on the edge of the couch, wiping your face before he can see the tears, but you know he sees them anyway.

“You’re mad at me,” you say. You look up. “Rafe.” “You always do this,” he mutters. “You come here to pick a fight and act like I’m the problem.”

“I never said you were the only problem.”

He laughs again but it’s dry and bitter. He walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge like he needs space but you follow him anyway.

“You’ve been shutting me out. I’ve tried to talk to you and you just shut down every time.”

“Because I can’t fucking breathe around you,” he snaps. You freeze.

“I say one thing and you twist it. I do one thing and it’s wrong. You push and push and then cry when I push back.” You shake your head, eyes stinging.

“I cry because you say things like that.”

“I say them because they’re true.”

His voice is cold. “I don’t know what you want from me anymore.” You step back. You feel it in your chest like a punch.

“I want you to love me.” That shuts him up.

He sets the beer on the counter and just looks at you. His eyes flicker, like he doesn’t know what to do with that sentence. Like it burns.

“I do.”

“Then act like it.”

He sighs and turns away. “I can’t do this tonight.”“Then when, Rafe?” you say, voice cracking. “When can we have a conversation without breaking each other?”

He presses his palms to the counter and you can see his shoulders shake. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He turns, fast.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t wake up every day hating myself for how I treat you?”

He’s yelling now. But not because he’s angry.

Because he’s breaking.

“I don’t know how to love someone the way you want me to. I don’t know how to be gentle.”

“You used to be,” you whisper.

“That was before I realized how much you mattered,” he spits. “Before I started waking up every fucking day terrified I’d lose you.”

The silence that follows is sharp.

You watch him run a hand down his face.

“I don’t say things right. I get angry. I fuck up. But you walking away every time we fight makes me feel like I already lost.”

You feel your breath catch.

“I walk away because staying feels like bleeding.”

He flinches at that.

You move closer, slowly, like you’re both animals that might bite.

“You don’t have to be perfect. I don’t even want perfect. I just want to feel safe with you again.”

His voice is quieter now.

“I don’t know how to make you feel safe when I don’t feel safe in my own head.”

You swallow hard.

“I know.”

He looks at you like he wants to fall to his knees.

“Then why do you stay?”

You walk toward him and press a hand to his chest.

“Because even when it’s ugly, it’s still you.”

His arms wrap around you like they always do. Fast. Tight. Desperate.

“I’m trying,” he says into your neck. “I know it doesn’t look like it. But I am.”

You believe him.

But that doesn’t make it easier.

That night, you stay.

You sleep in his bed even though your back is sore from the way he grabbed your arm earlier and you still taste salt on your lips from crying too hard.

He pulls you against him like he always does. Breath warm on your shoulder. Fingers resting on your waist. Like he never wants to let go. Like letting go might kill him.

He whispers your name.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

Vinnie did not notice how much she had taken over his room until he tripped over a plushie trying to get to his desk. At first it had only been her vape, the pink one she carried around like it was a fashion accessory. Then it was her gloss tube rolling off the edge of his desk, and her perfume bottle sitting next to his cologne.

Her hairbrush had taken up permanent space on his dresser and his hoodie pockets were carrying tampons he never remembered grabbing. He did not mind it. He actually liked it. But it was getting really hard to play it cool when his Twitch chat kept asking why his sheets looked like they were stolen from a childhood bedroom.

It was not just the bed either. His mirror had lip gloss kisses on sticky notes stuck to the corner. His laundry basket had three of her socks in it and one little pink pair of lace panties that he kept folding carefully and never gave back.

His closet had a fuzzy pink cardigan shoved into the back behind his boxing hoodie and a pair of slippers that did not belong to him. The worst part was that he never told her to stop. Every time she left something, she did it with a smile, half playful, like she was daring him to say no. And every time she came back, she’d find it exactly where she left it. She never said anything about that either.

She was his secret. The kind he wanted to keep and show off at the same time. He liked being selfish about her. Liked that only he got to see her in his bed, face buried in a Hello Kitty plush, mouth open just a little in sleep, hoodie riding up to expose soft thighs and smooth skin he could barely stop touching. The pink sheets were her idea, and he had not even fought her on it. If she wanted to turn his entire room into a Hello Kitty shrine, he would let her. As long as she stayed in it.

The night had been quiet, the kind of slow where his stream had ended early and he came back to the scent of her vanilla perfume clinging to his pillows. She was already in bed, legs tangled in his blanket, phone forgotten on the floor beside her. One of her wrists was tucked under her cheek. Her body shifted slightly when he stepped closer, but she did not open her eyes.

He stood at the side of the bed for a moment, watching the way her breath rose and fell softly. Her thighs were bare and the hoodie she wore had slipped off one shoulder. There were little lip gloss smudges on his pillowcase, the same light pink as the vape that sat charging beside his phone.

When he finally sat down, she stirred a little, turning toward him in her sleep. His hand reached down without thinking, fingers dragging gently up her thigh. The warmth of her skin made his breath catch. He leaned in, kissing her cheek softly before brushing her hair back from her face. Her eyes fluttered open, half-lidded, sleepy and soft, and he could see that lazy smile tugging at her lips.

“I was waiting for you” she whispered, voice raspy in that way that made his whole body react. She stretched like a cat, hoodie sliding higher on her thighs, plushie still hugged to her chest like she had fallen asleep mid cuddle.

He reached down and tugged it out of her arms, replacing it with himself. She whined a little but let him pull her against his chest. His hand slipped under the hem of her hoodie and found bare skin waiting for him.

“You always fall asleep in my bed like you live here” he said into her hair, voice low and teasing but honest. Her nose scrunched up as she shifted closer, pressing her mouth to his neck before she mumbled something about it feeling like home. He stilled at that.

Something heavy settled in his chest, slow and quiet. She always said things like that without thinking, like she did not know what they meant to him. Like she had no idea how much he wanted to keep her.

His hand moved lower, slipping between her thighs, finding the familiar heat that waited for him there. She gasped, legs twitching slightly as she shifted onto her back. Her hoodie bunched up around her ribs, exposing soft skin and those little pink panties that never stood a chance when he was like this.

Her eyes blinked up at him now, a little clearer, a little more awake, and he could already see the look he loved pulling across her face. The one that was equal parts nervous and needy. She knew what he was doing. She just liked when he made her admit it.

“Tell me” he murmured as he pushed her panties aside. She bit her lip, letting her legs fall open slowly. Her hand reached up and curled into the fabric of his hoodie. His fingers slid against her slick folds and he could feel how warm she already was.

“I missed you” she said softly.

He did not answer. Just smiled and leaned down, kissing her until she melted under his touch. Her lips were sweet, still sticky from whatever gloss she had been wearing earlier. He moved down her body, licking into her thighs, kissing the edge of her underwear before pulling them off completely. She looked up at him with those soft sleepy eyes and a whimper on her breath as he kissed her again, this time on her clit, slow and deliberate. She cried out, hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer like she was afraid he might stop.

He didn’t.

She came hard. Loud. Writhing on pink sheets with her fingers tangled in his hoodie and her voice cracking around his name. The plushie beside her rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a soft thump. Neither of them noticed.

When he finally crawled back up and kissed her, she was already gasping, legs still trembling as she whispered something like please under her breath. He was already hard. His pants were half undone. She reached for him like she always did, with both hands and a whimper that made him want to ruin her.

He pushed into her slowly, watching her eyes roll back as her legs snapped around his waist. Her hands clung to his shoulders and she moaned so loud it went straight to his head. He had fucked her in this bed a dozen times. But something about the way her thighs trembled, the way her nails dug into his skin, the way her little pink vape glowed beside the pillows while she cried into a Hello Kitty plush as he thrusted into her hard and deep, made this one feel different.

He fucked her like he was trying to paint her onto his sheets.

She took every inch with that perfect little whine, whimpering his name between gasps, legs shaking as he bottomed out again and again. Her mouth opened and her eyes fluttered and she kept begging him to slow down but he knew she did not mean it. She just wanted to feel every second of it. She just wanted to be full. And he wanted to give it all to her.

When he came, it was deep and rough, hands gripping her hips as he groaned her name and spilled into her with a final sharp thrust. Her body jerked under him and her nails dragged across his back. She was already leaking by the time he pulled out and she blinked up at him, dazed, glowing, completely undone.

He kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket over them both. She tucked herself against his chest and smiled into his neck.

“You are really gonna let me turn your whole life pink” she whispered.

He laughed and kissed the top of her head.

“You already did” he said.

Then he pulled the plushie off the floor and tucked it behind her head.

He was barking orders again. Pointing fingers. Acting like he was commander of the camp even though Clarke was clearly the one people trusted. Still, that never stopped him. It never stopped him from getting in the way. Never stopped him from pulling you aside to critique every little thing you did wrong. And if you were honest, half the time it was not even wrong. It was just not the way he would do it.

You and Bellamy were enemies. Plain and simple. From the first time you met him he had that look that smug, unbothered, tall and broad shouldered arrogance that made your skin itch. And the worst part was that you could not even look at him without wanting to punch him or grab him. Sometimes both. His mouth always moved just a little too confidently. His eyes always lingered just a little too long. He never looked at you with indifference. He looked at you like a challenge. And that pissed you off more than anything.

You hated how much he noticed you. Hated how you noticed him too.

You could feel it whenever he was near. He always got a little too close when he talked to you. He leaned in when he did not need to. He touched your arm like it meant nothing. And you played it off like it disgusted you. But deep down it did not. It did the opposite. His presence made your whole body tighten. Like it was bracing for impact.

The two of you fought constantly. If you miscalculated the amount of food stores for the week he would call it sloppy. If he missed a scouting rotation you would bring it up in front of others just to watch him scowl. You hated each other. You really did. But that hatred was sharp and alive and vibrating with something neither of you had the guts to name out loud.

Tonight was the last straw.

You had been listening. Watching. Clarke was prepping for a meeting with Lexa and the Grounders and you knew Bellamy was going with her. You knew it before anyone said it. Of course he would be the one to protect her. Of course he would be the one who got to stand beside her and speak. Not you.

You had trained harder. You had proven yourself. You were not just some reckless kid. But every time it came to something real Bellamy always looked right past you. Like you were not strong enough. Not good enough.

And the worst part? You thought he hated you. You really believed it. The way he dismissed you. The way he rolled his eyes every time you tried to insert yourself into the inner circle. It burned. It lit something awful in your chest and it made you want to scream.

So when you found out he and Clarke were going to meet with Lexa the next morning you decided you would go anyway.

You told Octavia you were sneaking out. You told her that you would find a way to follow them. You said that if Bellamy would not let you talk then you would show him you were more than just someone to babysit. You would force him to see you.

What you did not know was that Bellamy had heard everything.

He was standing just outside when you said it. He had not meant to stop. He had not meant to listen. But your voice, your voice always pulled him in.

When he heard your plan his blood turned cold.

He wanted to storm in. He wanted to yell. He wanted to throw something. But he did not. Instead he stood there. Silent. Thinking.

Because the truth was Bellamy did not hate you. Not even close.

The truth was that he noticed everything about you because he could not stop himself. He noticed the way your hands moved when you talked. He noticed the way you got defensive when someone doubted you. He noticed how much smaller you were than him but never weaker. And every time you spoke back to him it made his stomach twist in the worst and best way. You got under his skin like no one else.

That was the problem. You made him care.

And caring meant danger.

So he made a decision.

Later that night when the bonfire was burning outside and the camp was buzzing with noise he slipped away from the circle and made his way to your hut.

He did not knock.

He opened the door and stepped inside with the same energy he always carried. Big. Confident. Like he belonged wherever he went. His body filled the doorway and his gaze locked onto you instantly.

You froze.

He saw the bag on your cot. Half-packed. Supplies strewn around like a guilty secret.

He closed the door behind him.

You straightened your spine and glared at him. “What the hell are you doing in here”

He took his time answering. His eyes moved slowly around your space like he was studying it. Like he was trying to memorize it. “You always this messy when you are planning something stupid”

You folded your arms. “I am not doing anything”

He gave a low laugh. His eyes never left you. “You think I am stupid”

“You said it. Not me”

That made him grin. Real and cocky and infuriatingly attractive.

He stepped closer. “So what is the plan then” he asked, voice casual but low “You just gonna sneak off behind my back like a coward”

“I am going because you never let me be part of anything important” you snapped. “You treat me like I am useless”

“I treat you like you are reckless”

“You treat me like you hate me”

He paused. His smile faded.

And then he stepped even closer.

There was barely space between you now. You could feel the heat of his body. You could smell the fire smoke on his clothes. Your heart beat faster but you held your ground.

“I don’t hate you” he said slowly. “You just make everything harder”

You swallowed hard.

His eyes dragged over your face like he was drinking you in. Like he was letting himself really look for the first time.

“You drive me crazy” he said. “Every time you talk back. Every time you act like you know better than me. Every time you walk into a room and pretend you do not see the way I look at you”

You didn’t breathe.

Bellamy took another step. Now your back was nearly touching the wall. His voice dropped even lower.

“You think I hate you because it is easier than thinking about what I actually feel when I look at you”

Your lips parted. No sound came out.

His hand reached up. Slow. Gentle.

Fingers brushed a piece of hair from your face. His knuckles grazed your skin. His breath hit your cheek and you felt it all the way down your spine.

“You feel it too” he said.

It was not a question.

He leaned in like he was going to kiss you.

You did not stop him.

Your eyes fluttered half shut. His mouth hovered just over yours. So close it almost hurt. You could feel the tension pull tight between you like a wire ready to snap.

And then he stopped.

He tilted his head.

His lips brushed your ear instead.

“I can’t let you go”

And before the confusion could register the metal snapped around your wrist.

You gasped.

Then the other cuff closed around the support beam behind you. Locked.

“What the hell”

Bellamy stepped back. Smirking. Like he had just pulled off the greatest heist in camp history.

“I told you. You’re reckless”

You yanked at the cuffs. “You bastard. Let me out”

“Can’t do that”

“You aren’t serious”

“I am always serious when it comes to you”

He turned and walked to the door.

Then paused.

He looked over his shoulder at you. His eyes were dark. His smile slow.

“You look good like that by the way”

And then he was gone.