#––––––– ✮ ⟩⟩⟩⟩⟩⟩ answered. ╱ 「 over a secure channel. 」 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no-144444 · 3 months ago

Text

my girl- (o.piastri no.81)

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

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

summary: fans made an edit of oscar and you being in love since your prema days.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader (no.28)

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

Oscar Piastri being in love with Y/n Y/l/n for 15 minutes straight, and vice versa (F2 -> F1)

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

Clip 1: Prema video

Bahrain Airport, F2 season beginning, March.

“And here we have the 3 year reigning champion of the Indycar Junior series, making her F2 pivot, Y/n Y/l/n!” Rob cheered as he woke you from your nap on the plane.

“Shut up,” you groaned, pushing the camera away with a chuckle. “I'm tired, leave me be.”

“The plane is landing, idiot!”

“Hush!” you laughed. “That means ages until we get off, get your camera away Rob!”

Rob and you had gotten the same flight from London, and you’d become fast friends. He was eccentric and overtop, but a good laugh. You were sure you looked crazy. 6 hour flights do that to a person. You and Rob chatted to the camera about the weekend, and you introduced yourself to the Prema fans. Not many people gave a shit about Indycar, and even less cared about Indycar junior.

As you disembarked the plane and got through security, people stopped you and Rob for photos and whatnot, then you finally got out of the airport. Angelina was standing there with a camera and a big ‘welcome’ sign, and another two very tired teenage boys beside her.

“Y/n!” she cheered, pulling you both into a hug. “Rob!”

Little did you know, Rob’s camera was pointed at Oscar, who turned to Fred with a shocked expression and whispered: “She’s gorgeous.”

Beside him, Fred chuckled. “Go for her.”

“No way I have any chance with her, I-”

“I can hear you, y’know?” you cut in, coming over to introduce yourself.

He went redder than a tomato, and you all just laughed.

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

Clip 2: Sky Sports channel

Bahrain International Circuit, 27th of March

“And it’s No. 28 who sees the chequered flag first, the rookie, and the only girl on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n! Pole position in her first race!”

“That’s P1 Y/n, congratulations,” your race engineer, Pedro, beamed as you crossed the finish line.

“Motherfuck Guanyu is fast mate, we need to watch out for him- oh, and the other Alpine boy that was trying to flirt with me, what’s his name?” you answered. The Prema garage was full of laughter as you outed Oscar.

“Oscar Piastri? No.2,” Pedro chuckled. “He failed to flirt with you?”

“Well, bless him, he tried to,” you chuckled as you parked the car. “He’s cute though.”

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

“That’s P6 Oscar, and just to let you know, Y/n Y/l/n has outed you on the radio and on live television saying that you tried and failed to flirt with her,” his race engineer said.

Oscar laughed, finding the situation funny. “My mum’s going to tweet about that.”

“She also called you ‘cute’, if that helps with any bruised ego?”

Oscar’s face lit up under his helmet. “It definitely does,” he chuckled. “Thanks mate.”

“I’d wingman you any time,” he chuckled.

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

Clip 3: Prema video

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy, April.

“Hello everyone,” Robert smiled at the camera. “Today we will be going for a drive, I’d better call Oscar in.”

Oscar sat in the passenger seat and did his belt as they caught up and told the viewers what they’d be watching.

“So, today, you will be joining us for a drive around the Italian countryside,” Rob smiled. “And we will be answering your questions.”

“Let the questions begin,” Oscar added. He pulled one out of the bowl and read it aloud. “Who’s your favourite Prema team member?”

Rob smiled. “That’s hard, I love the whole Prema team so much, but… yeah, that’s hard. Maybe my race engineer, Fred? I get along quite well with him,” Rob giggled as Oscar nodded.

“What?” Oscar laughed.

“I know your favourite,” Rob smirked.

Oscar looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who?”

“La tua ragazza,” Rob chuckled as Oscar rolled his eyes. “What? It is true! You love her!” (La tua ragazza = your girl in Italian)

“I’ve met her once, mate!” Oscar laughed.

“So you don’t like her? I can ask her out?” Rob deadpanned.

“Well, no, you can't-” Oscar was cut off by Rob’s laughter and he decided to stop trying to fight him about it. Everyone on the team knew that Oscar Piastri was infatuated with you.

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

Clip 4: Georgie O’Hara’s deleted youtube video.

Haileybury and Imperial Service College, England.

“Ok, that’s an awful idea!” Oscar yelled over his friends. “They already know you’re the ones doing it!”

“It’s fine! It’ll be fine!” Elijah, a good friend of his, smiled. They wanted to set off the fire alarms again, for the third time that week. Deodorant and stupid teenage boys did not mix, especially when they refused to put it on themselves and waste it on fire drills instead.

Georgie turned to his phone, addressing the viewers "Oscar's a goody-two-shoes, if you couldn't tell."

Suddenly his phone rang from an unknown number, and before he could leave it ring, Anthony (another friend of his) answered. “Oscar Piastri, incoming F2 champion’s phone, how may I help you?”

Oscar laughed, but suddenly stopped when he heard you.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” you chuckled at his friend. “Anyways, can you just ask him to ask Elijah not to do the fire alarm thing between 11pm and 2am? The girls in my room and I are sneaking downstairs to watch a film and we don’t really want to get caught.”

Oscar covered his face and groaned, then took the phone off Georgie. “Hey-hi, Y/n. Yes, of course, we won’t do the fire alarm thing, ever again. Sorry.”

He turned his back as his friends made kissing noises and certain gestures at him.

“All good, thanks Osc,” you smiled. “You and your friends are welcome to join us if you want.”

Oscar could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. “I’ll ask them,” he smiled. He turned to his friends. “Y/n’s inviting us all to a movie, we’re sneaking out tonight,” he informed them.

“I don’t want to-” Anthony started, but Georgie silenced him with a kick to the shin.

“Mate, this is Oscar’s one fucking chance with his girl, shut up,” He scoffed.

“Is that a yes?” You asked over the phone.

“Yes!” they all answered.

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

As the night went on, you found yourself getting more and more tired. Oscar was beside you and you could tell how he was trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. You could practically see the way his heart leapt out of his chest when you held his hand. As ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ ended, you squeezed his hand before getting up and letting go.

“Alright, I’ll clean up, everyone else go back upstairs before you get caught,” you whispered. The ‘movie room’ as the students called it (it was technically the staff room but no one really cared) was a mess. Blankets, cups, wrappers and pillows were everywhere. The group slowly shuffled out as you were left with only Oscar. Georgie had forgotten about his camera and it was still recording where he’d put it down to get some shots of everyone watching the film.

“I can help,” Oscar whispered.

You shook your head. “Seriously, you go ahead. They already hate me at this school anyways,” you chuckled.

“Please let me help?” he asked again. You couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to his puppy dog eyes, could you?

“Fine,” you smiled.

You two chatted quietly as you cleaned up the room, and finally met at the door to leave.

“I really enjoyed tonight-” You started, but you were cut off by Oscar kissing you. His arms wrapped around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck once the initial shock wore off. You both pulled away after a few seconds. You stared up at him as his usually-blank face turned to one of panic.

“Sorry if that was forward, or-or weird- or-” He started, but now it was your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

He pulled back smiling, and he didn’t move his hands, or try to move away from you. There was a moment of silence. “Can I take you on a date?”

You chuckled. “Yes.”

Oscar was elated.

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

Clip 5: Sky sports channel and Prema footage

Circuit de Monaco, Monaco, Monaco, May 22nd.

You were excited as you stepped onto the podium, victorious. It had been a difficult few laps at the end, Guanyu overtaking, then you overtaking, and over and over, but you got the chequered flag first. You were breaking records, breaking barriers as a woman in motorsports. You’d won Monaco, your first time racing there. In the Sprint, and the feature race. You were on top of the world. As you raised your trophy, the crowd cheered and Oscar was cheering the loudest.

You looked to your left, him standing on the podium for the first time this season, and you smiled.

“Feels good, huh?” you smirked.

“Feels great, but I’ll be coming for your step next,” he smirked.

“You wish Piastri,” you scoffed, then uncorked your champagne bottle and sprayed it on him and Zhou.

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

Clip 6: Sky Sports channel, Prema footage

Autodromo Nazionale di Monza, Monza, 17th of July, Sprint Race.

“And it’s Y/n Y/l/n into the wall in a bad collision with Liam Lawson, only 2 laps till the end!”

Everything was in slow motion, one second you were in control, the next you were flipping into the wall.

“Red flag, red flag Oscar, huge crash in sector 3, come in, come in,” his race engineer said.

“Who was it?” He asked, slowing his pace.

“Y/l/n and Lawson, straight into the wall.”

“Is she ok? Is she out of the car?” he asked calmly.

“Not yet,” he answered grimly. The Prema garage was eerily silent as they watched the stewards struggle to get you out of the car.

As he came up on sector 3, he saw you. The car was upside down leaning against the barrier, they were putting out the fire. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You and Oscar had been dating for a few months now, and he really liked you. He passed by in horror as he saw that you weren’t out of the car yet. He was getting more and more nervous as the moments went on. He caught sight of Liam. He was out of the car. He beckoned Oscar over and he obliged, letting him hitch a ride back to the pitlane with him as he drove slowly. As they got back to the pitlane, they both jumped out as the race was finally deemed as cancelled, and the boys walked off, waiting for news.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It was a total mistake, my car had mad fucking oversteer and I just hit the throttle too hard, and then she was in the wall,” he answered. “She’s not even out yet.”

“She’ll be ok,” Oscar said, trying to convince himself as well as Liam. “She’s strong.”

Liam nodded, and went off to the RedBull garage with his head held low. Oscar walked into the Prema garage and his mom immediately pulled him in for a hug. Beside her was your parents, looking terrified.

“You’re ok, thank god,” she whispered. She didn’t care about the multiple cameras pointing at them, her son was alright.

“Is there any news yet?”

“They’ve pulled her out of the car,” your dad answered, eyes glued to the screen.

“Is she responsive?” Nicole asked.

“Yes!” You race engineer answered, happy that you were alive. There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the garage. “Complaining about lower back and leg pain, as well as a definite broken arm. She won’t be racing for a while,” he added, his tone becoming more and more sombre. Oscar watched as your mother broke down in your father’s arms, and he felt like throwing up. You wouldn’t be racing, you wouldn’t get to do the thing you loved.

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

Clip 6: Prema video

ASST Brianza - Vimercate Hospital, 18th of July.

You woke up in blinding pain a few hours earlier. Everyone had worked so hard to make everything ok, to make you comfortable, but all night all you did was sob. The pain was unbearable in the car, you thought you were going to die, you thought you weren’t getting out of the car. 5 fractured vertebrae, 3 broken ribs, a fractured hip bone, and a broken arm apparently wasn’t a joke. No racing for the rest of the year. Your life was over.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you sat up and pain shot up your back.

“Hey,” Oscar’s soft voice brought you out of your upset, and back into the room. He took your hand. You felt bad, he’d been there the entire time, and honestly, he should probably be at the track already, ahead of today’s race. You’d tried to shoo him but he wasn’t having it, much more in favour of being with you and cluing you in on how your parents reacted to him being your boyfriend. Awkward. “Take your time.”

You nodded, grateful that he was there, then turned your attention to the camera Angelina had brought with her and set up to take a ‘statement’ video. “Hi Prema fans, and my fans. Yesterday was pretty rough, and with a heavy heart I have to tell you that I won’t be able to continue this season in F2. My back was badly damaged yesterday in my collision with Liam, which was a complete accident and not anyone's fault, and I definitely don’t blame Liam. I love racing, and I’ll still be at the majority of the races to support my teammates, and my boyfriend. This is just a very unfortunate event that pulls me out of the game for a while, but I’ll be back. I hope you miss me on track, and just know that I’m alright. Thank you for the support, bye for now, Prema family.”

Oscar wrapped his arms around you and smiled. “I’m the boyfriend,” he added, making you laugh.

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

Clip 7: Prema footage

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, 4th of December

“And Oscar Piastri sees the chequered flag first! Winning a sprint race and the feature race this weekend!”

You jumped up and down beside Chris, his father, as he came into the pitlane. He was the lead of the championship. He was going to win F2. No doubt about it.

The past 5 months had been difficult. You’d been back at school for a while, only now cleared to travel again, but you were happy to be back at the tracks. It felt good to watch Oscar win in person.

Chris wrapped his arms around you as you both celebrated. Oscar’s radio came on.

“God guys, good drive. Looks like Y/n is my lucky charm,” he laughed over the radio. The last races hadn’t gone so well for him, but he was straight back to winning with you here.

You were smiling the whole way to the barricade, but that ended when about 50 people were against your back, pushing violently. Chris and Mark were trying desperately to get them to back off, but they couldn’t stop them. You promised them you’d be ok, but the pain was getting unbearable, and Oscar hadn’t come over yet.

“Guys, move back!” He shouted as he ran over, just finished taking off his helmet. “Make some space!” The team obliged, but he still decided to be dramatic and lift you over the barrier. “You alright?” he asked, but you just wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re incredible Osc,” you smiled. “I love you so much.”

And there it was, out in the open for the first time. Too bad you forgot you both had microphones on.

He smiled wider than you ever thought possible for his face. “I love you too. So much baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You should be up here with me,” he added and you nodded, it still being a sore subject. “And you will be. Next year.”

You nodded, grateful for the hope and support he offered you. “Go! Go to your team!” you laughed, pushing him on. Before he let you out of his grasp, he grabbed your waist and stole a sweet, quick kiss.

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

Clip 8: Prema footage

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 12th of December

He’d done it. He was the F2 champion. Sadly next year he would only get to be the Alpine F1 reserve driver, which meant no consistent racing, but that was still incredible.

You waited by the barricade as he came in, and he went straight over to you. He pulled his helmet off, then his bandana, and pulled you in for a kiss. The rest of the team ‘ohh’ed and ‘aww’ed but neither of you cared at all. He’d won.

“Congratulations F2 winner,” you smirked, pulling away.

“Thanks baby,” he smiled.

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

Post-race interview

“So, how does this feel, Oscar?” she asked.

“It feels amazing, y’know, we’ve all worked so hard at this for the whole year and it’s just really special to have everyone here, especially my girlfriend Y/n. I’m missing her on track, so it’s good to still at least have her in the paddock,” he smiled, and the camera cut to you, beaming up at him.

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

Clip 9: Prema footage and Sky Sports channel

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 19th of March, Sprint 1.

“We’re in the Prema garage,” Oscar explained to the camera in front of him. He was in full Alpine gear, being a reserve driver meant being a marketing machine, but this wasn’t for Alpine, this was for you. “And my girlfriend is about to go and do her first race back since the accident last season. Let’s go interview her about it!” He walked through the garage, searching for you, and finally found you. “Y/n! Any time for an interview?”

You turned to him and smiled. “I always have time for you,” you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. His grip on you was tight but you didn’t mind. You pulled away and turned to the camera.

“So, how does it feel to be back?” He asked.

“Amazing. I thought my life was over when I was told I wasn’t allowed to race for half a year.”

“And who helped nurse you back to health?” He smirked, batting his eyelashes at you.

“Your mom mostly,” you chuckled. You’d spent the entire off-season in Australia with Oscar and his family, and Nicole had been so considerate and careful about your healing injuries.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Yeah… that’s probably true,” he chuckled. “How do you feel being on Pole?”

“It feels good. We just have to stay quick this season. I didn’t rush my healing just to lose,” you smiled then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve to get in the car now, love you,” you smiled. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his lips to yours with a ‘good luck’, then let you go.

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

“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n is coming in with a bang! A Sprint Pole and a Sprint win! That is a statement, ‘I never left’!”

“That’s P1 Y/n, well done!” Pedro called over the radio as the Prema garage went crazy.

“Thanks for everything guys, great car, great drive-”

“Great driver,” he added.

You pulled into the pitlane and got out of the car, celebrating as they got the photo of you on the car. You ran over to Oscar at the barricade as you pulled off your helmet and balaclava.

“That’s my girl!” he cheered as you pulled him in for a hug. “See? Nothing's changed.”

You pressed your lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m loving this WAG lifestyle,” he chuckled.

You laughed. “It suits you.”

He chuckled. “Alright, you’re being called for the interview. Love you,” he smiled as you walked off, giving your hand a squeeze. You blew him a kiss back.

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

Clip 10: Prema video

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy.

You were laughing with Logan, doing a ‘Who knows who best’ challenge and both of you were failing miserably.

You put the headphones on and the music started, making it impossible to hear him. You watched as the room erupted in laughter, then Logan nudged you to take the headphones off.

“What is the most annoying thing about you?” He asked, holding back giggles.

“I know what you’d say,” you chuckled. “Me and Oscar.”

The room erupted in laughter as he nodded. “Exactly!”

“You’re just jealous,” you chuckled.

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a girlfriend?”

“No, because I have Oscar and you don’t,” you shot back, and everyone started laughing again.

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

Clip 11: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 20th of November

“And after a season of domination from the woman in red, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first with a staggering 425 points! This F2 season will go down in history!”

You’d done it. You’d done it. You were an F2 champion, and next season you’d be in an F1 car fulltime, racing alongside Oscar, Logan, and Nick. You’d made it.

You jumped out of the car, amazed at your season. It’d been win after win, fastest lap after fastest lap, pole position after pole position. You’d worked so hard.

“You did it baby!” Oscar shouted as you ran over. You jumped into his arms, and let him hold you up. He looked at you like you held the sky up, like you were the greatest thing on the planet. “You’re incredible.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled. “ I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more,” he pressed kisses to any inch of skin he could, more than proud to be yours.

You chuckled as he tickled you with his kisses, before you realised that you needed to go fulfil your duties. He put you down, but before you could leave, he grabbed your waist again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Osc.”

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

Clip 12: Sky Sports channel, McLaren footage, and RedBull footage

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 2023.

“A disappointing result for Oscar Piastri, but an incredible run for Y/n Y/l/n, P1 in her first race! I’m sure he’ll be pleased with that for his long-time girlfriend!”

Oscar was pissed off, but his mood was lifted by your result. You were incredible. He cheered in his own garage, happy for your win. You’d won your first race. Who else did that? The first woman to ever do so.

He was in awe of you.

He exited his garage, ready to see you after your win. He saw you getting out of the car and running straight into the arms of your team and he smiled. He finally caught your eye after some time, and you ran over, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of your mouth. “If I could trade our cars, I would Osc, I really would,” you sighed.

“Don’t even joke about that. Don’t make your first win about me. This is about you, my brilliant, incredible, winner,” he pressed his lips to yours in a short, victory kiss. “I love you, yeah?” “I love you too,” you smiled.

“You were amazing out there,” he smiled.

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

Clip 13: McLaren video

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

“Who is your teammate's favourite person?” Lando asked, then looked at the camera and rolled his eyes. “Oscar’s is Y/n because he’s a traitor.”

Oscar burst into laughter and looked at Lando. “That’s not fair! We started dating as teammates!”

“Oh sure Osc!” Lando sighed, playing up the drama. “That’s what they all say.”

“But it’s the truth!”

“Anyways, moving on from Oscar and his traitor girlfriend, who’s my favourite person Oscar?”

“Max Fewtrell?”

Lando thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Him or my parents or siblings.”

Oscar took another question out of the bowl and chuckled. “What’s the other person’s red flag?”

Little did he know, you’d come in to visit him and were actively sneaking up behind him.

“Yours is your refusal to ever use a hairbrush,” you answered for Lando, and Oscar jumped, making everyone laugh, especially Lando, who fell off his chair. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around Oscar's neck from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Came to say hi,” you smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Came to air out my business online?” He questioned, laughing. He took your hands and led you around his chair, sitting you on his lap. “When did you get in?” he asked, resting his head on your shoulder as Lando tried to compose himself.

“Just now, came straight from the airport,” you nodded, leaning back against him.

“Bad flight?”

“Nah, I was on Max’s jet. He’s offered me to ask you two if you want to go back to Monaco after this weekend with him. I am,” you answered. He nodded, gently playing with your hands as he listened to you.

“Sounds good to me,” he smiled. “Tell him ‘thanks’, yeah?”

You nodded. “‘Course,” you got up to leave but he pulled you down by the arm and pressed your lips together quickly, then let you go. “Love you,” you called after yourself.

“Love you too,” he called back, ready to get back to the interview.

“Can we keep that in?” Ellie, their marketing manager asked.

He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

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

Clip 14: Hattie Piastri’s tiktok vlog

Piastri residence, Melbourne, 2023

“Y/n’s over there with Oscar, and Addie is with May and mum and dad are with Tim over there,” she explained to the camera pointing everything out. In the video you and Oscar were laying on the grass in the setting sun, utterly exhausted from your weekend of racing where you’d gotten p2 and Oscar had gotten p8. His arms were wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, smiling.

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

Clip 15: Sky Sports channel, RedBull footage and Nicole Piastri’s instagram

Circuit Zandvoort, Zandvoort, Holland

“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n beats teammate Max Verstappen to first place, and she sees the chequered flag first! What an incredible season this has been for the rookie!”

As you crossed the finish line, you almost felt sick. You’d beaten Max, giving you a lead in the Driver’s Championship. He’d been 10 points ahead. Now, you were 15 points ahead of him.

“That’s P1, P1 Y/n congratulations,” Pedro smiled.

“Thanks Pedro, and thanks everyone, really well done. Car is perfect, thank you all so much!”

“And Oscar’s P9, if you're wondering.”

“When I get my fucking hands on Zak Brown I will rip his fake fucking toupée off for giving him such a shit car,” You groaned. “Great drive guys, thanks.”

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

You walked into the paddock as they all cheered both you and Max on. Max had gotten P2, unhappy with not winning, but not mad that you’d won. He saw what you were doing for motorsports all around the world, how much pressure you were under as the first female driver in a long time, and how hard you were working. He wasn’t going to make your life harder by being an asshole off the track too. He gave you a celebratory hug and moved onto his driver’s room, as you stayed out with the engineers, chatting and celebrating with them.

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

Nicole Piatri’s instagram live

“Hi everyone, Osc and I are right now, trying to sneak into the RedBull garage to see Y/n,” Nicole explained and behind her, Oscar smiled and put both thumbs up.

“I’m going to be told off for this by Zak, so, sorry Zak. I want to see my girlfriend, my bad,” he chuckled, his apology only half-assed.

Nicole and him continued faffing around the paddock for a while, until Nicole caught your eye through the window. You ran over to the door beside them and let them in, pulling Nicole in for a huge hug as Oscar waited behind her with a wide smile.

He spoke to the live. “Apparently my girlfriend likes my mum better than me-"

You cut him off with a kiss as you laughed at his antics. “Shut the fuck up,” you chuckled. “You’re such a baby.”

“I missed seeing you in the conference,” he shrugged, holding you close as his mum took the phone and documented this moment between the two of you. “I love you,” he smiled.

“I love you too,” you chuckled, kissing his cheek. “P9? Not bad.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled. “P1? Not bad,” he lifted you into his arms making you squeal.

“Osc! Put me down!” You squealed.

“Let me win next time,” he chuckled. “Then I’ll put you down.”

“What do you want me to do? Switch our cars?”

“Ideally,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek and putting you down. “But I guess I’ll settle for watching you be gorgeous on the podium every week.”

“The fans are loving this!” Christian joked as he watched over Nicole’s shoulder, seeing how the chat was going crazy.

You both turned to Nicole with confused faces.

“You’re still filming mum?!”

This live has now been ended by the host.

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

Clip 16: Sky sports channel

Lusail International Circuit, Lusail, Qatar

“Oscar Piastri has done the job brilliantly, the Australian driver will see the chequered flag first! Oscar Piastri wins the sprint to take McLaren to the top step once again!”

“That’s P2 Y/n, Oscar P1,” Pedro announced.

“WOOOOO!” You screamed, elated for him. “Fucking legend!”

“I said P2 for you,” he reminded.

“Shut up and be happy for him, just once,” you chuckled, pulling into the pit lane to park. You watched as Oscar got out of the car as you got out of your own car. Immediately, he ran over to you, wrapping you up in his arms as you celebrated together.

“You did it!” You shouted, jumped around in each other's arms. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“You put up a good fucking fight,” he chuckled, smiling like a kid.

“You’re going to look so sexy at the top of the podium,” you smirked and he blushed hard.

“I wish you wouldn’t say stuff like that in public,” he chuckled, then hid his face in your neck as you laughed.

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

Post-sprint conference

“So, this is a question for Y/n and Oscar,” an interviewer started. Both of you looked up, exhausted from the late night race. “Does your relationship prohibit you from racing to your full potential? I believe Y/n, you could’ve caught up. Did you give him this win?”

You scoffed, appalled that anyone would have the audacity to ask such a thing. “For fuck’s sake,” you sighed. “No. I couldn’t have. You know how you know that? Because I would’ve if I could’ve. I love Oscar, and I’ve loved him since I was about 14 years old, but that doesn’t mean that I let him win. He’s a ridiculously talented driver, and a fucking genius with strategy. His car is great too. But out there today? That was pure talent. I can love him, and wholeheartedly race him too,” you answered, getting annoyed at the comments like these you two constantly got. “And another thing, I’m getting really fucking sick of the questions about our relationship. Do you really think we’d be together if we couldn’t race each other and not come back to each other and be proud of each other? Seriously? Where is your critical thinking?”

The room was full of whispered conversation as you dropped the last diss, and beside you Oscar was looking at you with huge heart eyes. Anyone could see it from a mile away, he loved you. He chuckled, wanting to add his two cents as well. “Yeah, exactly. The only thing she lets me win in is chess, right?” He looked at you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

“You won once, asshole,” you chuckled, pushing his hand off your thigh.

“Then we stopped playing,” he shrugged, a cocky smirk very-present on his face.

“We ran out of time,” you shrugged, feigning innocence.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Sure.”

The tension in the room had been dissolved in the comedic moment, and you were thankful for Oscar’s calm exterior. You moved closer to him on the couch, and he wrapped an arm around you, smiling wide as you pressed a kiss to his hand, the one closest to your face.

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

Clip 17: Drive to Survive

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“How are you feeling?” Oscar asked, sitting in your driver’s room with you before the race. He knew how worried you were, how much you wanted this. You had to win. You and Max were neck and neck. You just had to get more points than him, starting from P2.

You sighed, standing between his legs and messing with his hair, favouring trying not to think about it rather than talking about it. He grabbed ahold of your waist and pressed his face into your torso, pressing kisses to wherever he could reach, trying to make you laugh.

You chuckled and pushed him away, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m alright, I promise. Just stressed.”

“You won’t be stressed in a week,” he smiled. “We’ll be in Melbourne.”

You smiled, and kissed him again. “We will. Waves and relaxing. Nothing else.”

“Well, and Logan,” he chuckled. “So… ‘Merica and all that,” he smiled as you laughed at his bad joke. He got you down to his lap and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’ve got this, don’t worry.”

“Wow, anxiety cured,” you replied sarcastically, making him laugh.

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

Clip 18: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“And it is an incredible season for the first female in modern F1, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first, with a Driver’s Championship 1-2 with her teammate Max Verstappen! This makes her the first female ever to win the F1 Driver’s Championship title! What an inspiration!”

You’d done it. You won your rookie season. You were World Champion. You were a legend.

“WOOOOO!” You screamed as tears rolled down beneath your hemet. “We did it! We did it!”

“We did it!” Pedro screamed. You knew the entire RedBull garage was going crazy right now. “You did it Y/n!”

“Thank you, everyone! This would’ve been impossible without you all! Amazing year! Incredible work!” you beamed.

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

“That’s P6, P6 Oscar,” his race engineer announced.

“Did Y/n get it? Did she win?”

“Yes, your girl is a World Champion,” he smiled.

“YES! YES! THAT’S MY FUCKING GIRL!” he screamed, elated at the news. He knew you could do it. He’d always known you could do it.

He rushed to get to the pit lane, ready to celebrate with you. He jumped out of the car and pulled off his helmet as fast as he could, watching as you ran over to him.

“You did it!” He cheered. “My fucking girl.”

“I did it!” You cried, over the moon. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled.

His eyes filled with tears as his heart swelled with pride. “You’re amazing. I love you so much Y/n.”

Neither of you cared about the cameras around you as you went in for a kiss. You didn’t care about how sweaty and gross you both were, you didn’t care about the grief that the pr team would give you, you didn’t care.

You were a World Champion. He was your everything. You were his everything.

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren #oscar piastri x fem!reader #f1 fluff

3K notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 8 months ago

Text

── ୨୧ !　𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘

　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N is a ray of sunshine, and Matt is her dose of grumpness.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @httpsm4tti

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Get out."

Y/N smiled as she heard Matt's short and authoritative voice echo through the walls of their shared room.

"Hi baby, are you okay?"

Matt lifted his head instantly, pulling his attention away from the computer screen in front of him and toward the door, where his girlfriend was standing.

A tray was resting securely in her open palms as a teasing gaze looked back at him.

A sigh escaped his lips, and Y/N knew it wasn't because he was stressed about seeing her but rather completely relieved. His tense posture gradually eased, and his frown dissolved, giving way to a calming stance.

"What are you doing here, petal?" Matt's tone came out soft, his hands leaving the keyboard and resting on his gray sweatpants covered thighs.

"You've been locked in here for hours. I haven't seen you get out to eat or drink anything until now..." Y/N began, starting her quick steps towards the brunette. "And since I know you're on a task to answer every email sent to the channel, I decided to bring you some snacks and drinks." A big smile spread across her face, her hands working on resting the tray on the empty space of his desk.

Matt glanced briefly at the contents on the wooden surface, fighting back a smile as he noticed all of his favorite snacks, plus a handmade sandwich and a can of rootbeer.

"You didn't need to do all this, sweetheart." The boy brought his blue orbs back to his girlfriend, his right hand coming up and resting on her hip lightly, gently stroking the covered skin.

"Anything for you, my love."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sound of the door to his shared room with Y/N opening echoed through Matt's ears. The boy was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for himself and his girlfriend, the sun's rays streaming through the living room's large windows serving as his only source of lighting.

Y/N's muffled and quick footsteps sounded through the small hallway that led to where he was.

The boy didn't need to turn around to know that she was now standing behind him, probably just the large wooden table separating them.

"Good morning, baby!" Y/N's voice was like music to his ears, and Matt found himself wondering how she could be so happy at this time of the day, a small "morning" escaping his lips in response. "You won't believe the dream I had."

A smile almost imperceptibly appeared on the right corner of Matt's lips, the kind of smile that only Y/N was capable of eliciting from him.

The boy turned around with Y/N's favorite mug in one hand and a small plate with flowers drawn on it in the other, both containing coffee with a dash of milk and waffles with honey, just the way his girl liked.

The brunette placed them both on the surface in front of the seat that Y/N had already designated as hers, picking up his own plate and mug before sitting down in front of her.

"Nick and I were at this different theater, and we were going to watch a horror movie, which already started out weird because we know how much he hates horror movies..." Y/N started quickly, pausing momentarily to take a bite of her waffle, a hint of honey smearing the corner of her mouth. "But the weirdest thing was that the movie wasn't horror. It only had two main characters, and they rode horses the whole time. And then, out of nowhere, they adopted a mute dog and a blind cat, which were the cutest little things I've ever seen..."

The girl kept going, her voice changing intonation with each word while her expressions moved quickly, her free hand gesturing while her other hand held her waffle tightly, taking bites from time to time.

Matt remained silent, a serious - but relaxed - expression took over his face, while his mouth slowly chewed the pieces of his own toast, nodding his head every now and then, showing to her that he was paying attention, just like everyday.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

To outsiders, the scene unfolding there seemed to be amusing.

Y/N, with a big smile on her face and yellow flowing dress surrounding her, was quickly pulling a serious-looking Matt with completely black clothes, which covered almost his entire body.

"Come on, baby! There's an ice cream cart right there." The girl repeated the information that had already been given previously, pointing enthusiastically with the index finger of her free hand at the small pastel-colored cart on the other side of the street.

"I can see that." Matt muttered, feigning annoyance, but everyone who knew them knew how much he was loving it.

"Can I get a strawberry one? Please! Oh, and which flavor will you want? I know you love the chocolate one, but it's so nice to change things up sometimes." Y/N rambled, finally approaching the cart, smiling big at the salesperson in greeting. "So?"

"You can order anything you want for me." Matt surrendered, catching the intense gleam in his girl's eyes with his response before averting his own, fishing his wallet out of his pocket, ready to just make the payment and seat on a random wooden bench, looking forward to hearing her ramble about her week.

"Good afternoon! Can I have a strawberry one and a cream one, please?"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Baby, can you get me a Diet Coke? Please." Y/N briefly interrupted her conversation with Tara, looking at her boyfriend.

Matt was sitting next to Y/N on one of the couches at Tara's big 1 million party, his arms were crossed and his expression was serious - almost angry -, his eyes carried a steady gaze that circled around the people in the room, ignoring the screams and loud music, only his girl's voice echoing in his ears.

The brunette looked at her momentarily, nodding and leaning down slightly, sealing his lips on the side of her head gently before standing up, walking with firm steps towards the nearest bar.

It didn't take long, and soon the boy was returning to his previous spot, his hands balancing a can of Diet Coke and a can of Rootbeer.

His blue eyes almost instantly found the figure of his girlfriend, who was still talking to Tara, but now Nick was with them as well.

A small smile appeared on his lips as he watched her speak with so much passion, gesturing too much and changing her expressions too quickly.

But his own smile quickly fell when he saw a strange guy sitting in his previous seat, wrapping his arm over the back of the couch right behind Y/N's head and bringing his body closer to his girlfriend's, too close for his liking.

It was obvious that the guy knew Tara, as he immediately started talking to her, but his body language showed his interest in Y/N.

"Move. Now." Matt's serious and rude voice suddenly sounded as soon as he approached them, startling the small group. His eyes were fixed on the unknown boy, glaring at him.

His action brought small reactions from the others; Nick rolled his eyes, already used to his brother and his way of acting with everyone - except his girl. Tara raised her right eyebrow, her eyes traveling from the boy to Matt and back again.

But Y/N just smiled sincerely, ignoring the rudeness of his tone. Her eyes instantly lit up upon meeting her boyfriend and even more so upon seeing him holding her order.

"I won't repeat myself." Matt demanded, keeping his gaze steady on the guy, who quickly understood the message and got up from the couch, raising his hands in surrender before leaving.

Matt sat back down in the now empty space, handing his girl the Diet Coke before placing his arm right where the other boy's was, his fingertips caressing the exposed skin of her right shoulder.

He took advantage of Tara and Nick starting a new topic and brought his head closer to Y/N's, pressing his lips against her ear.

"You're mine, babe. Only mine."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Are you ready, honey?" Y/N asked as she finished fastening her necklace around her neck, her eyes fixed on the mirror next to their closet in the room she shared with Matt.

"I just... I don't know which sneakers to wear." Matt's voice sounded tired, his brow furrowed as his eyes traveled over the extensive row of sneakers he owned.

The girl turned around, approaching him while throwing her hair over her shoulders, running her hands over the light pink dress that hugged her body just right.

The two were getting ready to go to the Snapchat event that would take place in a few hours, and as usual Matt always asked his girlfriend for some tips on one of the pieces he would wear for the day.

"Wear the white and blue Jordans. I like how they look on you." Y/N opined, pointing to the indicated pair, caressing his right bicep before turning around, crossing the already open bedroom door to check if Nick and Chris were ready.

The duo was lying on the sofa, both ready and using their respective phones, just waiting for the couple.

"Finally! If I knew how to drive, I would have left you two behind." Chris grumbled, adjusting his posture on the upholstery and putting his cell in his pants pocket.

"You still didn't learn to drive properly because you're lazy and too comfortable with me just driving your ass around." Matt's voice echoed behind Y/N, his figure leaving their room and closing the door behind him, his expression straight and his eyes carrying a serious gaze.

"Oh my God, you look handsome, baby! I knew Jordan would work out just fine." Y/N ignored the small fight between them, her eyes traveling over Matt's body, admiring his clothes despite them being simple and black - as always.

Matt rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, but the traces of an almost non-existent smile appearing on the right corner of his lips while his cheeks took on a red hue said otherwise.

"Oh, how handsome you are, Matt." Nick joked, imitating Y/N's voice and fawning his right hand over his face, blinking his eyes repeatedly, earning a loud laugh from Chris and an amused smile from Y/N.

"Shut the fuck up. Get moving. Now!" Matt barked back, glaring at his brothers before finally approaching his girl.

He placed his left hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her to the stairs that led them to the garage, ready to go.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

2K notes · View notes

fear-is-truth · 23 days ago

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . hc .ᐟ ⭑ 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐰

⟢ tags — fem!reader﹒headcanons﹒domestic fluff﹒nsfw﹒mdni﹒smut﹒kinky rp﹒blasphemy

a/n: requested by… i’m pretty sure i remember who sent the req but not confident enough to @

you’ve mastered the art of meal prepping for him—chicken breasts, egg whites, protein shakes etc. he’ll sneak up to you from behind while you’re cooking, kissing the top of your head as a thank you.

his “controversial” youtube channel, where he films fitness and cycling classes, is something you secretly love to watch him record. you’ll often peek from the doorway as he’s filming, watching as he passionately leads the class, shirtless and full of energy, talking about strength and spirituality.

the two of you have a growing collection of houseplants that charlie swears he’s responsible for watering (even though you know you do most of it). he’s also been talking about getting a pet dog—and he gets excited just thinking about it.

you have a ritual of watching true crime documentaries in bed. he’d throw in some commentary during the episodes, pointing out details others would miss and making sarcastic remarks about the criminals’ poor decisions. you can tell he’s fascinated by the psychology of it all, even though some of his comments make you playfully swat his arm for being a bit too dark.

he’s dedicated to his morning jogs and always tries to convince you to join him, but on most days, you’re still in bed when he gets back, all sweaty and smug. he’ll kiss you awake like sleeping beauty and tell you that he’s already done your workout for you.

he’s super buff. strong enough to lift you effortlessly, and loves showing off. charlie would sweep you off your feet at random moments—like when you’re about to leave the house, or after a long day when he insists on carrying you to bed. he always jokes about how he’ll never get tired of it, no matter how many times you roll your eyes at his over-the-top gestures.

nsfw — mdni

after groundbreaking sex, you’ll be snuggled in bed, and suddenly, he’ll ask, ��so, if you had to commit the perfect crime, how would you do it?” charlie loves watching you try to come up with a serious answer, and then he’ll one-up you with some morbid trivia or a clever solution.

one day he got his hands on a nun’s habit, and casually suggests you try it on. the whole thing was more than a bit blasphemous, considering his position, but you decided to humour him. as soon as you put it on, he was all over you.

confessing (in great detail) to him in the confessional booth about how you touched yourself when he’s not there.

christening your shared apartment by fucking you in every room, and on every available surface.

when you’ve ran out of surfaces, it extended to the church.

he has fucked you in the confessional booth at least once.

charlie has crazy stamina—partly because he works out and partly because he’s “blessed by god”.

you have a stash of homemade porn videos that you’ve filmed together.

talked you into wearing vibrating panties to mass. sitting in the front row for him to admire the tiny expressions in your face.

using holy anointing oil to give you full-body massages.

rehearsing his sermons while you cockwarm him.

charlie likes to leave the bathroom door slightly ajar when he’s taking a shower, knowing you’ll peek in. more than often, you join him, the sound of your clothes dropping to the floor muted by the running water. steam fogs up the bathroom as his hands find their way to your hips, pulling you under the water.

he’d scoop you up in his arms, pinning you securely between him and the wall. you’d cling onto charlie like a koala, wrapping your legs around his waist while kissing him, fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you back with equal fervour, him slipping his tongue past your lips and exploring your mouth lazily.

when he senses your impatience—the telltale tightening of your grip on his hair or the small whine that passed between your connected lips, he’d waste no time lining himself to your entrance and filling you with one deep thrust.

#grotesquerie #charlie mayhew #father charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x y/n #charlie mayhew smut #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez

462 notes · View notes

nadvs · 4 months ago

Note

can we please have sleeping with the enemy rafe finally announcing to his friends (and max) that they’re dating now!! 😓😓 (ps. i LOVE your fanfics🤞)

thank you sm, love!! yes yes definitely 🥰 i had to make it super fluffy i had no choice

based on this fic, continuation of this blurb

after they eat a late lunch at an off-campus restaurant, rafe is relieved that she doesn’t ask him to drive her back to her dorm. now that they’ve put it into words, this mutual understanding that their friendship had at some point become much more, he hates the idea of being apart from her.

and once he realizes that, he also realizes he’s gone soft. because he used to never think stuff like that, like it would actually physically hurt to be away from somebody. but she’s the only one he thinks like this about. and now, he figures he can say this stuff out loud.

“you’re my favorite person to hang out with,” rafe says, his thumb tapping over the steering wheel once he starts up the car.

he cringes at himself. it still feels weird saying shit like that. they usually just crack jokes and tease each other. but when he looks over at her, at how bright her smile is, he knows he’s going to keep saying stuff like that until it feels normal, because it’s worth it if she’s going look at him like that.

he suggests they hang out at the house and she happily agrees. they’re curled up on the couch and while they used to always subconsciously be touching in some way, their contact is much more intentional now.

rafe has his arm around her as they sit together. her knees are drawn up to her chest. the sports channel is always on at the house. on the screen is an nfl player sitting behind a microphone at a post-game press conference.

“you’re gonna hate that,” she says. “the interviews.”

his body always buzzes when she talks like that, like him going pro is inevitable. he’s confident in his skills, but not nearly as sure as her that he’ll make it to the nba.

“you think?” he mumbles, playing along.

“yeah, because you have to be media trained and it will not take,” she teases. “like, imagine you were interviewed about yesterday’s game.”

he squints his eyes, indulging her, thinking back to the win his team secured.

“a reporter asks you what you thought of the other team’s offensive approach,” she says. “what would you say?”

“they played like little bitches.”

“see?” she says with a laugh. “you’d lose all your brand deals in a second.”

“you think i’ll get brand deals?”

“mhm. and lots of girls,” she adds.

“already used to that.”

she slaps his chest.

“i’m breaking up with you,” she jokes.

“so, you finally admit it,” a voice from the top of the stairs says. they look up to see one of the other four basketball players living in the house coming down the steps.

“what do you mean?” she laughs.

“that there’s a relationship to break up,” liam clarifies. “you’re not just friends.”

rafe sighs. liam is one of his friends who never stops fucking with him about how married he is to her. rafe has told him time and time again that they’re just friends.

“yeah, we’re not,” he answers.

“you’re not what?” liam says.

“just friends.”

liam just looks at the two of them as they sit on the couch, blinking slowly.

“wait, for real?” his teammate asks.

“yeah,” rafe nods.

“you’re not denying it?”

“no.”

“i don’t know what to do.” liam scratches his head. “i’ve never gotten this far. uh… finally? congratulations?”

“thanks,” she chimes in.

he looks at them for another few seconds.

“this isn’t a joke?” liam says.

“no,” she answers.

“wow,” he says. “what took so long?”

“you can leave now,” rafe tells him.

“cool.”

she laughs as liam turns and heads down the hallway. the conversation goes about the same way with every other housemate as the news spreads.

eventually, she dozes off in front of the tv. she’s curled up in a ball, her hand wrapped around his bicep, her cheek on his shoulder. he can’t help but take a photo from his vantage point.

when she wakes up, she tells him she should go home. he drives her to her dorm. on the way, she’s scrolling on her phone and sees he posted a story. he hardly ever posts anything.

it’s a photo of her taken just over her head, her eyes closed, lashes resting over her cheeks, hand wrapped around rafe’s arm. it’s a sweet, almost intimate photo.

“wow,” she teases. “you’re going to hard launch me just like that?”

“sure. whatever the fuck that means.”

she laughs.

“you know, guys tend to unknowingly post the worst pictures of their girlfriends,” she tells him. “but this really isn’t that bad.”

“no shit,” he says.

“what, it can’t be bad if you took it?” she guesses, rolling her eyes.

“it can’t be bad ‘cause it’s you.”

she glances over at rafe, watching the passing street lights glowing over his handsome face. is this the kind of stuff he’s been thinking and never saying out loud? they were always honest with each other, but she gets why he wouldn’t say things like that if he thought them. it’s so far from friend territory.

she’s determined to do the same thing. to go back to saying everything on her mind to him, instead of stopping herself from sharing her affectionate thoughts like she’s gotten used to doing.

they share a long kiss before she gets out of the car. when she makes it to her room, she reposts the photo on her story, his account clearly linked. just so there’s no confusion and simply because she’s so giddy, she captions it: boyfriends can take good pics sometimes?

it reminds her of the first night they hooked up and she posted a photo of him shirtless in her room.

eventually, everyone on her squad and every basketball player on the team, including her ex-boyfriend, view the story. it’s crazy how part of the reason she and rafe even got together was for revenge over him. she was shattered when max broke things off, but he inadvertently pushed her towards her best friend.

now, there’s no way anyone can misconstrue things. rafe is her boyfriend. and she’s proud of it.

so, she keeps her promise to herself. she won’t miss any opportunity to tell rafe how much she likes him. she texts him: i’m so so so glad i met you

he replies: only three so’s?

she texts: +5 more so’s

he replies: better

then, her phone buzzes again with a text from him: me too baby. you really are my favorite person

(continuation)

#ask #swteblurb

553 notes · View notes

jezebelblues · 5 days ago

Text

in body and blood | h.s

pt. i, pt. ii

summary: over a century adrift in darkness, he found his sun—not in the dawn, but in the quiet fire of her love, a light fierce enough to bind even eternity.

cw: fem!reader, blood+blood drinking (bro is literally a vampire there's going to be blood) 1700s!harry, mentions of death

word count: approx 7.3k

I yall this excruciatingly long so i just figured it was better to split this into four parts. it starts off kinda slow i knowwww but i feel like it fits his character. anyway I hope u will like. mwah :* also YES his heart beats idk i took creative liberty in assuming the blood he drinks would give him some sort of circulation and YES i drew inspo from tvd i like their vamp lore the most ok bye

Fourth of November, 1701

The English flag thrashed wildly in the biting wind, its edges snapping above the clank of chains and the groan of wood as boats were fastened to the harbor. Hooves clattered against the cobblestone, mingling with the grumble of cart wheels as townsfolk hurried homeward, eager to escape the deepening chill of evening.

Winter crept in with an ill-fated air, a shadow over the town. The fishermen’s hauls dwindled to nearly nothing, their nets coming up bare. Squash and pumpkins, once abundant, softened and rotted on their vines before they could be harvested. Livestock, struck by a strange sickness, perished too soon, their spoiled meat no longer fit to eat. Lately the townsfolk scraped by on what little they could hunt—rabbits, mostly—a meager fare that barely stretched to sustain a family for more than a few days.

YN stood at the end of the dock, the sea’s bitter wind pulling at her hair. A basket woven by her mother dangled from her arm, half-covered by a cloth beneath which a few herbs and stunted vegetables peeked through. She waited for Niall, a fisherman she’d known since childhood, to come ashore. His face was grim, his knuckles pale as he secured his boat. “Any luck?” She asked over the wind, though she already knew the answer.

His mouth twisted into a scowl as he wiped his hands on his trousers and approached her. “Lucks got nothin’ to do with it. s’the new king, swear it. God turned his back on us ‘cause of him.”

She winced and swatted his arm lightly as they started toward the stone walls encircling the town. “Don’t say such things, not out loud.” She kept her voice low, though she too had her doubts about the new ruler. “Best not to tempt fate with those words.”

He rolled his eyes and took the basket from her arm, letting it hang from his own so she could tuck her hands into her sleeves. “You agree with such things. S’pose God does as well from the lack of bloody fish.”

They passed under the worn stone archway marking the entrance to town, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. Dover was nestled between the English Channel and rolling green hills, hemmed in by rocky shores and the stark rise of the cliffs, standing watch like grim sentinels over the troubled little town.

As YN and Niall made their way up the winding path from the square, the quiet crept in around them, settling like a thin mist. The evening was thick and gray, heavy clouds stretching over Dover and flattening the light into a cool, uneasy dusk.

Each face they passed, they recognized. it was impossible not to, in a town so small. There was old mrs. Harris, hunched beneath a weathered shawl, who gave them a knowing nod as they went by, as if she alone were privy to the day’s secrets. And mr. James, pulling his cart toward home, who offered a quick tip of his hat, but avoided meeting their eyes too long, as if a weight hung over all of them that no one cared to mention.

Niall, walking beside her, held his silence longer than usual, and there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes when he finally turned her way. “You’re still makin’ that stew, yeah?” He hummed, nodding toward the basket swinging lightly in his hand. His tone was casual, almost lazy, yet she sensed something else beneath it, like he was testing the waters of a conversation he couldn’t quite bring himself to start.

“Mum has already started it,” YN replied, keeping her voice as light as his. “Cabbage, onion, bit of thyme. barely a stew, more a broth.” She cast a sideways glance his way, catching the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“No doubt you’ll have your sister servin’ it, then?” He asked, as though it were an afterthought. “I hear she has a way of makin’ anything taste finer.”

YN’s lips twitched, a hint of humor flickering in her eyes. She knew well enough where this was going, but she didn’t indulge him outright. “Oh, she has her charms, but she’s picky ‘bout who gets to see ‘em.”

He laughed quietly, a low sound that seemed to carry on the breeze, soft and uncertain. “She's got the whole town near dreamin’ of her, from what I hear. never seen her eye stray toward anyone, though.”

YN glanced away, her gaze drifting over the clustered rooftops, the narrow chimneys stretching into the dimming sky like spindly fingers. “You’d need more than a bowl of stew to catch her fancy, Niall. You’d best hope for a rich merchant or a duke comin’ ashore.”

His chuckle died off, and for a few quiet moments, they simply walked, the soft scuff of their shoes blending with the distant murmur of the sea. Yet something hung between them, unspoken, like the faintest shadow shifting at the edges of their conversation.

It was Niall who broke the silence, his voice lower this time, his words careful. “Have you heard the talk? About the old watchtower?”

YN’s gaze drifted to the far side of town, where the dense stretch of forest gave way to a steep rise, the silhouette of the abandoned tower just barely visible through the trees. “Folk say all sorts of things,” She muttered, almost to herself. “Been empty as long as I can remember.”

Niall’s eyes narrowed as he looked out toward the darkening line of trees, his jaw set. “Empty, maybe, but someone’s taken to hauntin’ it now. The lads swear they’ve seen a figure up there at night, just a shadow movin’ about, like he’s watchin’ the town from that high window.”

She felt a faint chill that wasn’t from the cold, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “They say a lot of things,” she repeated, her tone steady but soft. “Could be nothin’ but the wind playin’ with shadows.”

He tilted his head, the edge of a smirk softening his face. “Aye, that’s what I'd think, too. But seems each person’s got a different tale to tell. Some say he’s a protector, sent to keep us safe.” He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the distant woods. “Others say it’s somethin’ darker—maybe one of the king’s men, sent to spy on anyone who dares breathe a word against him.”

YN’s lips parted, but she hesitated, the words hanging unspoken as her gaze lingered on the watchtower. Her grandmother had told her stories of that tower once, years ago, when she was still young enough to believe in the old tales without question. But she’d since brushed them off as the ramblings of an old woman long passed. Now, though, the stories flickered back to her, sharp and vivid as they’d once been.

“I heard some folk say it’s not a man at all,” She murmured, so quietly that her voice nearly vanished into the chill air. “Gran said it’s a spirit—a demon.” she let out a breathy laugh, sending a glance his way. “You believe my ol’gran true?”

Niall made a sound, halfway between a scoff and a chuckle, though he didn’t argue with her. “You don’t seem the sort to believe in demons,YN.”

She didn’t answer him, and for a moment, they stood in the gathering dusk, looking out toward the distant, looming shape of the tower, as if something there had caught them both in its thrall. A strange, unsettling weight hung in the air, pressing down around them, and neither seemed willing to break it.

The faint toll of the chapel bell echoed across the town, marking the evening hour. The sound seemed hollow, almost mournful, as it resonated through the narrow streets, slipping into every crack and crevice, lingering like a warning in the growing dark.

The path wound through the clustered homes of their town, each one narrow and stacked close beside the other, the rooftops tilting like old friends leaning together to brace against the coming winter. Flickers of candlelight peeked through small, thick-paned windows, casting brief glows over doorsteps worn smooth by years of footsteps. Voices drifted out faintly as neighbors settled in for the night, the low buzz of comfort after a long day’s labor.

As they neared her door, YN glanced sideways at Niall, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, no use lettin’ the stew go to waste with just me. You might as well come in and help make somethin’ decent out of it. And,” she added, with a playful glint, “my sister will be there, too. Might be the only chance you get to impress her.”

Niall feigned indifference, though she caught the hint of a flush in his cheeks beneath the dimming light. “Well, if it’s to spare you from that sorry excuse of a stew, I s’pose I could lend a hand,” he said with mock reluctance, yet his steps quickened as they approached the small wooden door.

Inside, the house was simple and small, with a low ceiling that sloped slightly, forcing even YN to duck beneath the beams as she led him in. A narrow hearth crackled with a weak but steady fire, casting warm shadows across the modest room, which served as both kitchen and living space. The scent of herbs, drying in bunches along the walls, mingled with the faint tang of smoke from the hearth. A single table stood in the center, its edges worn smooth, surrounded by a handful of mismatched stools and chairs, each one slightly wobbly but bearing the marks of care and countless meals.

“Is that you, YN?” Her mother’s voice came from the corner, where she was bent over a pot, stirring with steady, practiced hands. She looked up with a gentle smile, her face flushed from the warmth of the fire. “And Niall too! Just in time. I was about to send Arthur to fetch you, but he’s off fiddlin’ with somethin’ in the corner.”

Ten-year-old Arthur looked up at the mention of his name, a wide grin splitting his face when he spotted the blonde. “Niall!” He called, scrambling to his feet and darting over, a wooden sword in hand. “You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?”

He placed the basket next to the older woman before he tousled the boy’s hair, giving a wink to YN. “That depends—will your sister cook, or will your ma have mercy on me?”

YN rolled her eyes as her mother chuckled, stirring the stew with a knowing look. “I'll make sure to keep it fit for eatin’. Now, why don’t you both make yourselves useful and set the table?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Niall replied with a quick bow, flashing his best charming smile, though his eyes lingered on the slender figure by the fire.

YN’s older sister, Ella, sat with her needlework in hand, her fingers nimble as she embroidered a delicate pattern into the edge of a linen cloth. She looked up as Niall approached, offering him a nod and a faint, polite smile, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

“Ella,” Niall greeted, taking the opportunity to lean a bit too casually against the edge of the table. “Now there’s a sight finer than any supper, if I may say.”

“Oh, you may say.” Ella sighed, her tone as mild as her smile. “But sayin’ doesn’t make it so, does it?” Her eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief, and she kept her gaze on her stitching as if he hadn’t said a word.

YN snorted, reaching past Niall to set the bowls on the table. “She’ll need more than empty flattery to be wooed, Niall. You’ll be talkin’ all night before she so much as bats an eye.”

“Empty flattery?” he echoed, feigning shock as he helped with the cups, placing them with exaggerated care. “This is pure honesty, YN. Your sister’s a vision, though I'm not sure she sees it herself.”

Ella finally looked up, one eyebrow arched. “Perhaps that’s ‘cause it’s hard to see with all the bluster in here. Is it flattery or just another of your tales, Ni?”

Arthur laughed as he climbed onto his chair, his wooden sword clattering to the floor. “Tell a tale, Niall!” He urged, his eyes bright.

He obliged with a grand sweep of his arm. “Ah, tales are easy to tell when the company’s fine.” His gaze drifted meaningfully to Ella, who only smirked, clearly unbothered.

“Enough of your foolishness, Horan.” YN’s mother cut in, though her tone was warm as she dished the stew into the bowls. “There'll be time for tales when your stomach’s full. Now, all of you—sit, before this stew turns cold.”

They settled around the table, the simple meal set before them steaming in the flickering firelight. YN ladled out servings, keeping her own expression solemn as she dished out the rather grayish stew. Niall took a tentative sip, raising his brows in mock surprise.

“Well, I'll be,” he declared, setting his bowl down as if astonished. “Tastes just like stew!”

YN kicked him under the table, rolling her eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked, else we’ll make you eat the scraps.”

Ella, watching them from across the table, hid a smile behind her hand. “It's better than you deserve,” she teased, offering Niall a faintly teasing look that sent Arthur into a fit of giggles.

As they settled into their meal, the conversation turned to the familiar rhythms of the day—the fish hauls, the scarcities at the market, the latest mischief Arthur had managed, and the townsfolk they’d seen along the way. Laughter bubbled up around the table, filling the small room with warmth as the stew slowly disappeared, their bowls clinking softly with each spoonful.

It wasn't until they’d nearly finished eating that YN’s mother’s voice turned low, a faint shadow crossing her face as she glanced at arthur. “Arthur,” she said gently, “I don't want to hear any more of you playin’ outside the town walls.”

The boy frowned, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “But ma, I’m careful,” he protested, glancing between her and YN as if hoping for support.

“She's right,” Ella added, her voice calm but firm. “The woods aren’t safe, especially with winter comin’ on.”

He looked to Niall, his face a mask of confusion and a bit of defiance. “Niall plays near the woods, don’t you?”

He shifted in his seat, his smile fading just slightly as he glanced at YN. “Aye, lad, but it’s different. I'm older, and I keep my wits about me. Besides,” he added lightly, though his voice held a trace of something darker, “there’s been talk of someone wanderin’ near the old watchtower.”

YN’s mother sighed, folding her hands on the table. “Too much talk.” She said quietly, her gaze drifting toward the narrow window. “I don’t care if s’only lore, you’ll be safe rather than sorry.”

A hush fell over the table, and Arthur's wide eyes darted from face to face. “Who is it, then?” He whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “A man?”

Ella reached over to ruffle his hair, her voice soft. “No one knows. could be a man, could be no more than shadows. But some say it’s best not to linger too close to it, just in case.”

Niall, watching Arthur's reaction, leaned in with a grin. “There now, it’s probably nothin’ more than a lonely ol’ fox. But best stick close to home, eh? Can’t have you disappearin’ on us.”

YN tried to keep her voice light as she chimed in, though she felt the faintest prickling unease beneath the laughter. “You heard him, Arthur. best keep to the town, else you might end up a story yourself.”

The boy’s eyes grew even wider, and he gulped, glancing nervously toward the window as if expecting to see the mysterious figure standing just beyond. He fidgeted, his hand reaching instinctively for his wooden sword on the floor beside him.

With a faint, tired sigh, YN’s mother rose and began clearing the table, signaling the end of the meal. The warm glow of the evening seemed to have dimmed, and even Niall’s usual cheer was muted as he helped gather the bowls, his gaze drifting back to the light flickering along the walls.

Outside, the wind picked up, brushing against the windows and rattling the latch ever so slightly, a whisper against the warmth of the firelight. The small house was silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought, each glancing occasionally toward the dark window where the night gathered, close and watchful.

Morning seeped slowly into Dover, pale and cool, bringing with it the damp scent of the sea and the faint call of gulls overhead. YN was awake early, as was her habit, slipping quietly out of bed while the house still lingered in the soft dimness of dawn. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and a chill clung to the air, but she moved quickly, tucking a shawl around her shoulders as she crossed the small room.

Arthur, already up and dressed, was tugging at the latch on the back door, eager to start his morning chores. He looked back when he heard her steps, his face lighting up with a grin. “Thought you’d sleep through it, lazybones.” He teased, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

She snorted softly, pinching his cheek as she passed him. “Cheeky lad,” she muttered. “Come on, then. Let's get to it.”

They stepped out into the brisk morning, their breath puffing in the cold, and began making their way down the narrow stone path that wound through the small patch of yard behind their home. Frost clung to the grass, glinting in the pale light, and the chickens shuffled restlessly in their pen as Arthur went to check on them.

“Careful now.”

He bent down next to them to scatter their feed. The hens fluffed their feathers, clucking contentedly as they pecked at the ground, and Arthur kept one eye on the rooster, who strutted about with his chest puffed, keeping watch over his domain.

“Look at him,” he whispered, stifling a laugh as he threw a handful of seed. “Thinks he’s king of all creation, that one.”

She grinned, crouching beside him. “Well, he’s a rooster. not much else to do but look important, is there?”

The boy giggled, tossing a bit of feed toward the rooster, who eyed him warily before puffing up even further. YN kept watch as he finished the feeding, carefully securing the pen’s latch when he was done.

They moved on to check the small patch of herbs and vegetables that clung to life in the early cold, though the frost had already done its damage. The leaves hung limp and dark, and YN frowned, brushing a thin layer of frost from a withered cabbage leaf.

“S’not lookin’ good, is it?” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he followed her gaze.

“No,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing over the leaves. “But we’ll manage. Always do.”

He gave her a solemn nod, but she could see the worry in his eyes, the way he seemed to glance toward the woods, as if he might glimpse the shadowed figure their mother had warned him about the night before. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering a smile.

“No need for lookin’ so glum, Arthur,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We've plenty to keep us busy, and I'll wager you’ll see that rooster crowned king before anything happens to us.”

He managed a faint smile, his spirits lifting just enough to reassure her. They finished up quickly, making their way back inside, where the warmth of the house greeted them. YN set about preparing a quick meal for Arthur and her mother, who was just beginning to stir, her tired eyes softening at the sight of her children.

Once breakfast was sorted, YN returned to her small room to ready herself for the day. She tugged off her worn nightdress, slipping into the fresh linen undergarments she’d set aside, and carefully pulled on a plain woolen dress that hung neatly from a peg beside her bed. It was a simple dress, but a neat one, its modest collar and long sleeves making it suitable for the chilly weather. she straightened the fabric, adjusting the waist so that it lay just right, and wrapped her shawl back over her shoulders, pinning it at the front with an old, weathered brooch that had once belonged to her grandmother.

She caught her reflection in the small, scratched mirror by the window—a young woman with steady eyes and a hint of determination in her gaze, her hair braided behind her, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. After a moment, she tucked a few stray wisps behind her ear and gave herself a brisk nod, turning to head out.

The streets were beginning to stir as she made her way down to the docks, the early morning light casting a soft, muted glow over the cobblestone. A few shopkeepers were already sweeping their doorsteps, preparing for the day’s trade, and a handful of townsfolk passed by, nodding their greetings as she walked.

When she reached the docks, she found Niall already there, standing by his boat, his hands working quickly to secure the ropes. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, and his hair was tousled from the morning breeze, but there was a contented look in his eyes as he glanced up and saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the cabbage patch,” he greeted her, a grin breaking across his face. “Come to see if I've hauled in a king’s feast for ye?”

YN rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she stopped a few feet away from him. “I wouldn't go that far. but I'll settle for a decent fish, if you’ve managed one.”

He laughed, giving the rope a final tug before stepping back, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Oh, a decent fish, she says. Well, lucky for you, I've got just that.” He reached into a small wooden crate and held up a plump haddock, its scales glinting in the early light. “Not a king’s ransom, but it’ll do for stew, won’t it?”

She eyed the fish, unable to suppress a smile. “Aye, it’ll do. Might even save us from havin’ to wrangle another cabbage.”

Niall chuckled, tucking the fish back into the crate. “Couldn’t have that, now, could we? I’m doin’ my part to keep your cookin’ passable.”

“Passable?” She laughed, nudging him lightly as she stepped up beside him to peer into the crate. “You’re just glad to have an excuse to come round, steal our bread, and charm my sister.”

He gave her a mock-offended look, though his eyes glinted with humor. “Now, that’s hurtful, YN. I'm here for the food and the fine company, naturally. If your sister happens to be nearby, well, that’s not my fault, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to help the small laugh that escaped. “Poor Ella’ll need more than a fish to be impressed. Best not get your hopes up too high.”

“Aye, she’s a hard one to please,” he admitted, a faint, wistful smile crossing his face. “But I'll manage somehow. or at least, I'll keep tryin’.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting out over the water, where a thin mist clung to the surface, casting an eerie calm over the harbor. The other boats rocked gently in the quiet, and the gulls called out above them, their cries echoing faintly across the empty stretch of sea. Together they turned back toward the town, the mist curling softly around them as they walked, side by side, in the quiet of the morning.

The midday lull brought a hush over the town, as folk took their brief respite between the day’s labors. The soft light of afternoon slipped over the rooftops, and YN found herself winding her way down one of the quieter streets toward Maura’s, a modest little cottage that doubled as the gathering place for the women in town. Here, around a crowded table of mismatched cups and chipped saucers, town gossip simmered as steadily as the tea.

Maura's door was open, the sound of voices spilling out into the cobbled lane, and YN slipped in quietly, greeting the women with a polite nod before finding a seat near the end of the table. The familiar faces of neighbors turned to greet her—Maura herself, with her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, mrs. Harris with her ever-watchful eyes, and a handful of others who paused only long enough to give YN a quick nod before returning to the subject that had clearly held their interest long before she arrived.

“I'm tellin’ you,” mrs. Harris was saying, her voice low and edged with certainty. “There's somethin’ in that tower. maybe it’s a spy, maybe it’s worse.”

Maura scoffed, shaking her head. “If it were a spy, we’d know by now, wouldn’t we? why bother lurkin’ about if there’s nothin’ worth seein’ here?”

“There’s plenty to see, Maura,” the older woman sighed, leaning forward, her teacup nearly sloshing over the rim as she gestured toward the window. “Who’s to say he hasn’t been watchin’ us all along, takin’ note of who’s loyal to the new king and who’s not?”

Maura snorted, but one of the other women, Anna, leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “or worse—what if it’s no man at all?” Her gaze darted to the others, her eyes wide with a kind of fearful excitement. “There are tales, you know. Of things that wander the woods. Spirits that linger in dark places, things that only come out when the days grow short.”

Mrs. Harris crossed herself, nodding solemnly. “Aye. folk say it’s a night creature—a demon, even.“

YN listened quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, but she held back a smile. as the women exchanged anxious looks, she leaned back, sipping her tea, the warmth of it calming her nerves. To her, the stories felt like little more than old wives’ tales—a way for folk to pass the time when the days grew cold and bleak. A lonely man, perhaps, who’d taken to the tower for solitude, a soul with nowhere else to go. Nothing so sinister as the women here believed.

“You've a skeptical look about you, dear” Maura said, catching her eye with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you’d walk up to that tower yourself, would you?”

She met her gaze calmly, setting her cup down. “I'd sooner believe it’s a wanderer, Maura. Maybe one who wants peace more than anything else. Don’t see why we should fear him.”

“Peace, or no peace, he’s still up there, watchin’ us all.”

YN didn’t reply, only nodded politely as the conversation swirled on, the voices around her swelling in speculation and rumor. After a while, she quietly rose, setting her cup aside and offering Maura a grateful nod before slipping out the door and into the fresh air.

The chatter of the women faded behind her, and she took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs and clearing her thoughts. She knew she was unlikely to shake their unease or convince them of her view, but as she thought of the lonely figure up in the tower, something tugged at her—a kind of curiosity that gnawed gently at the back of her mind.

Without a second thought, she made her way home, moving quickly and quietly, her mind already set. She slipped through the door, pausing only to grab her small woven basket from its hook. Her mother glanced up, but YN offered her a calm smile, murmuring something vague about a quick errand before supper.

IN the small corner of their kitchen where they kept their stores, she selected a handful of berries from the last of their foraging, a few slightly bruised carrots, and a small bunch of herbs tied with a thin scrap of cloth. Modest offerings, but enough, she hoped, to serve as a token of peace, a sign that she meant no harm.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the edge of town, her footsteps light as she made her way past the familiar lanes and toward the narrow path that led up to the old watchtower.

The path leading to the watchtower was narrow, winding its way up the hillside in gentle, uneven curves. YN had walked these woods many times before, though never with the purpose she had now. Above her, the sky was beginning to darken, clouds gathering in ominous clumps, casting long shadows across the land as the sun slipped lower.

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear, but from a strange mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The stories she’d heard that morning lingered in her mind like faint echoes, each warning a small reminder of the mystery ahead. But she felt something else too—a quiet resolve, an odd certainty that she had to see this figure, whoever he might be, with her own eyes.

The watchtower loomed before her, its crumbling stone walls climbing into the sky, weather-worn and scarred by time. She could see now why the townsfolk feared it; it looked like a relic from another era, half-hidden by the dense growth of ivy and the creeping fog that clung to the base of its walls. It was silent here, too silent, as if even the birds dared not sing in the shadow of the old tower.

Steeling herself, she moved forward, her footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The closer she got, the more the watchtower’s age showed itself in cracked stones and vines, a darkness that seemed to pool between the stones, deepening the gray of the twilight. At the base of the tower, a narrow door sat slightly ajar, barely wide enough for her to slip through. She paused there, glancing up, feeling an odd twinge of nervousness as her gaze drifted to the upper windows, dark and empty.

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dim interior.

The inside of the tower was colder, the air thick and still. Faint light seeped through cracks in the walls, just enough to reveal the sparse furnishings—a wooden table, books, a chair beside the hearth, long since gone cold. Dust motes hung in the air, catching the dim light like fragments of stars, and a faint, earthy smell lingered in the space, as though the room hadn’t seen another soul in years.

Yet something else lingered too, something that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle—a sense that she wasn’t alone.

A figure stepped forward from behind a wall, emerging so quietly she almost missed it. He was tall, with dark curls that tumbled around his face, shadows clinging to his features as though he belonged to the darkness itself. His eyes met hers, a piercing green that seemed to hold an entire century’s worth of secrets, and for a brief, unsettling moment, she felt as though he could see straight through her.

“What brings you here?” His voice was low, quiet, each word clipped and precise, yet holding a softness that surprised her.

YN swallowed, her hand instinctively tightening around the basket she held. “I–I thought you might be hungry,” she stammered, offering the basket forward with a hesitant smile. “Folk talk of you up here, you know. Thought it might be nice to see if you wanted some company.”

He raised a brow, a faint trace of amusement softening his gaze. He didn’t reach for the basket, but instead continued to watch her, as though trying to make sense of why she would come here, alone, to his solitary refuge.

Didn’t seem exactly the safest thing.

“People rarely visit me,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a murmur, as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “Especially not with offerings.”

“Well, it’s no great feast,” she laughed breathily—nervous, setting the basket down on the table. “But it’s enough for a quiet meal.”

He looked down at the basket, his expression unreadable. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he would turn her away. But then his gaze shifted back to her, gentle, as though something in her gesture had reached him in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t need much,” he breathed, finally stepping closer, his movements careful, almost tentative. “But thank you.”

The silence stretched between them as Harry’s eyes lingered on her, his regard tracing every movement of her face, the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together as if searching for words. He could feel it—her pulse thrumming in her neck, the warmth radiating from her skin, the soft, steady rhythm of blood rushing through her veins. It was maddening. The sound alone clawed at the quiet corners of his mind, stirring that old, cursed hunger he’d worked so hard to bury.

But he couldn’t let her see that. Couldn’t let even a flicker of it touch his face.

With a composed nod, he turned his attention to the basket, using the small action to steady himself, to pull his focus away from her and fix it on the modest offering she’d brought. Herbs and roots, earthy and clean, none of it touched by blood. He forced his breath to steady, aware of her watchful eyes on him as he sorted through the items, careful to keep his hands stable.

“Are you here… often?” She asked softly, breaking the silence in a voice that felt almost hesitant, as though unsure whether it was allowed. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the sparse surroundings, the thick shadows that crept into every corner.

Harry let his fingers linger on a sprig of thyme, keeping his voice level as he answered. “Yes,” he confided simply, his tone giving nothing away. “I find it… peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoed, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked back at him. “It doesn’t frighten you, being all alone up here?”

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles—him—frightened? How sweetly ironic. “Sometimes solitude is easier than the alternative.”

She studied him, and he could feel the weight of her eyes, searching for something beneath his answer. Her heartbeat quickened just a bit, a small, steady thump that seemed to reach straight through him, its warmth coiling like a spark inside his chest. He could almost taste it—the sweet, heady pull of her pulse.

But he forced the thought down, burying it beneath years of restraint. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, redirecting the focus onto her. “And what about you?” he asked, his tone soft but steady. “Doesn’t it frighten you to come all this way, alone?”

She gave a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe it should. But I suppose I don’t scare easily.” She paused, her gaze slipping to the narrow window where the trees outside swayed gently in the wind. “It’s quiet here, almost like a different world. Sometimes it feels like our town is shrinking, like it’s closing in. Out here, it’s–it’s freer.”

Harry’s gaze softened, though he said nothing. There was something in her words he understood, something that echoed faintly in his own memories of why he’d chosen this place—this forgotten, lonely tower—to escape. A life he could no longer live, a curse he couldn’t risk unleashing.

She looked back at him, curiosity bright in her eyes. “People say you’ve been here a long time—I mean, they say the tower��s been abandoned forever. But you don’t seem…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though she didn’t quite know how to finish.

“Don’t seem what?” he asked, his voice low, inviting her to continue.

She waited, and he watched her carotid flicker in her throat as she searched for her words. “You don’t seem like someone who belongs in a place like this,” she murmured. “Like you’ve got more in you than—than just seclusion.”

He felt a tug deep in his chest at her words, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—a faint longing, a half-forgotten ache for a life he’d once dreamed of. But that life was gone. He’d buried it the night he’d been turned, when the world as he knew it had collapsed into a semblance of hell.

“It’s strange,” he replied carefully, his eyes drifting toward the flickering shadows on the wall. The hunger gnawed at him, unrelenting, every second reminding him of how close he was to her. She was standing barely a foot away, her warmth filling the small space, her heartbeat a steady, maddening drumbeat that drew him closer, closer…

He straightened slightly, pulling himself back. “Solitude,” he said quietly, almost as if reminding himself, “sometimes feels simpler.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes stayed on him, and he could see the spark of curiosity still there, unquenched. She was brave, this girl. Far braver than most. And something about that bravery—the quiet way she stood her ground in the face of shadows and rumors, in the presence of a stranger—intrigued him. She wasn’t running away. And a part of him, despite everything, wanted her to stay.

“Thank you,” he mumbled—almost a dismissal, gesturing to the basket, his voice softened with a touch of genuine gratitude. “Not many would bring gifts to a stranger. Especially not one so isolated.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing faintly in the dim light. “Well, maybe I’ll bring something better next time,” she replied with a small laugh. “If you’d want that.”

He paused, her words lingering in the air between them. Next time. It felt dangerous, allowing the thought of it, letting her return. But as she looked at him, her smile warm and unguarded, he found himself nodding almost without thinking.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’d like that.”

But even as he spoke, he felt the old thirst stir beneath his words, a dark reminder that she was flesh and blood, and he was anything but.

Harry watched her retreating figure until the last of her shadow disappeared down the winding path. The silence settled thick around him once more, yet it felt different now, charged with the lingering warmth of her presence. The faint echo of her heartbeat still pulsed in his mind, like a phantom drum that refused to fade. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, pushing down the hunger that had clawed so violently to the surface, fighting a void that had nearly overpowered him the entire time she’d stood there.

He had always been a weak man for the living.

Turning back into the tower, he closed the door and leaned against it, his hand flexing as he grappled with that old, familiar agony, the ache that thrummed through his veins whenever he was near a human. After all these years, after countless nights spent mastering his restraint, he still struggled. The curse was unrelenting—an obstinate thirst that he could never truly silence, only suppress.

Memories rose in him unbidden, dark and sharp, clawing their way out of the places he kept them buried. He could still recall the crisp air of that autumn night in 1601, back when he was alive, when he’d believed his life was bound for something beautiful. He’d been a poet then, a young man enamored with language, eager to make something of himself. He’d had dreams of attending university, of pursuing a life dedicated to literature and ideas, a life where he could spend his days wrapped in thought and art.

But all of that had been shattered in a single night. He had been walking back from a small tavern in London, tipsy and laughing, still reciting lines of poetry in his head, the night air filling him with a light, exhilarating hope. He remembered it so clearly—the dimly lit street, the damp chill creeping into his coat, the rough hand that had seized him by the throat and dragged him into an alley. He’d thought it was a robber at first, maybe a cutthroat from the docks looking for a quick coin.

But then he’d seen his attacker’s face.

The man’s eyes were inhuman, glinting with a feral hunger, and his skin was pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. Harry had fought, struggling against the impossible strength of those arms, but it had been useless. The man had pinned him down with a brutal ease, baring his teeth—a flash of something razor-sharp, malevolent—before sinking them deep into Harry’s throat. The pain had been excruciating, and then everything had gone dark, his life draining away into a cold, endless void.

He hadn’t known what had happened to him for days afterward. He’d awoken alone, hidden in the dark recesses of a forgotten basement, his body shuddering with an unholy thirst that tore through him like wildfire. The transformation had left him a half-mad, hollow shell, consumed by an insatiable need he didn’t understand. He’d stumbled through the streets, eyes wild, hunting without even knowing what he was hunting for. And when he’d finally cornered a man in the dead of night, tearing into his throat with a frenzy he could barely comprehend, he’d learned what he had become.

The first months were a blur of blood and horror, a nightmare he hadn’t known how to escape. He had been controlled by an ache, a greed—enslaved by it, a wretched creature lost to bloodlust. He’d fought it as best he could, but each time he tried to resist, the thirst only grew stronger, until he was reduced to a brutal, savage need that erased everything else.

It had been a year later, in 1602, when he encountered another vampire. His name was Thomas, a wily, unrepentant creature who fed freely and without remorse. Thomas had found Harry alone and ravenous, nearly mad from weeks of starvation in an attempt to restrain himself. He’d taken Harry under his wing, teaching him how to survive in this new, cursed life, how to hunt, how to kill cleanly. But while Harry had been grateful for the guidance, he quickly saw that Thomas reveled in the whispers of the devil, that he viewed humanity as little more than prey. He was malignant.

His own heart was too soft for such cruelty. He’d hated the feel of human flesh beneath his hands, the way his victims’ eyes widened in terror as he held them down, the way their life drained away in his grasp. He hadn’t wanted this life. But the need was too powerful, too all-consuming, and he had been too weak to fight it.

And then, in 1643, came the night that shattered him completely.

Her name had been Beatrice—a young woman from Manchester, one of the few souls who’d looked past his oddity, his quiet reserve, and seen something in him worth knowing. She’d been kind, curious, always showing up at his door with a warm smile, her laughter lighting up his otherwise bleak existence. For months, she’d been a balm to him, her presence a brief reprieve from the loneliness that gnawed at him. He’d been so careful around her, so painfully restrained, never allowing himself to get too close. But one night, after days of starvation, he had faltered. She’d come to visit him, concern etched on her face, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

And in that moment, he’d lost himself.

The memory of that night was burned into him like a scar, the scent of her blood, the warmth of it cascading from his lips and developing him whole— the sound of her heart slowing as he drank from her—all of it haunted him, even now, decades later. He had tried to pull away, tried to stop himself, but the hunger had overpowered him, consuming her life, taking everything she had. When he finally came to his senses, she lay cold and pale in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, empty and accusing.

After that, he’d fled, haunted by the horror of what he’d done, determined never to let it happen again. He’d hidden himself away in this tower, learning to feed from the animals that roamed the forest, forcing himself to endure the hunger rather than inflict his curse on another innocent soul. He would never again allow himself to feel that agony, that terrible loss.

And yet tonight, with her presence in his small, empty world, something had stirred in him, a strange, aching reminder of what it meant to be human, to crave connection, companionship. It was dangerous, foolish to even entertain such thoughts, yet he couldn’t deny the faint spark she had left behind.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly, steadying the wild, restless energy that surged in him. She couldn’t come back. He couldn’t risk it. He would have to find a way to make her think the tower was haunted, or evil—something to scare her off for good. Because he knew himself, knew that he was a creature of hunger, bound to a curse he couldn’t escape.

And if she returned—he wasn’t sure how long he could resist.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles concept #harry styles au #vampire!harry #vamprry #kinktober #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles drabble #harry styles x you #niall horan

251 notes · View notes

lisenberry · 3 months ago

Text

The mountain is you

Ch. 2 - I don't know what it is that I'm climbing to

~2.4k

E/MDNI/18+

CW: BDSM negotiations, dom!Price, dom!Ghost, pain play

(Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)

It’d been a while since John had spoken to his former lieutenant, and even longer since he’d seen him. The last few years had passed in a fog, so it was a shock when he saw the familiar number come across his phone. He only briefly hesitated before answering.

Soap and Gaz texted him all the time. Links of foolish videos on the clock app, and pictures of mysterious rashes on their body parts that they needed help identifying.

But Ghost wasn’t one to waste anyone’s time. Whatever it was, it was important. And as it turned out, he had a proposition for him.

“You need a project, Cap. Something to keep you sharp.”

“Are you worried about me, Simon?”

“We all are.”

John had been the one to start Life Connect 141. An opportunity that gave the lads a place to channel their post-combat restless energy in a way that wouldn’t get them a murder conviction or a stint in a maximum-security psych ward. It kept them together as a team and gave them a purpose. And the opportunity to launder some of the not-quite-above-board money they’d liberated over the course of their travels.

Some veterans of special ops worked with rescued pit bulls. Others started fitness programs, backpacking guide schools, and preparedness training facilities.

His boys filled their own rewarding niche. Even after John’s departure, the company had flourished and from what he could tell, they were all staying out of trouble.

Judging by Ghost’s concern, he was the one who was floundering. A marriage to the wrong woman, and the subsequent messy divorce, had left him dangerously adrift. He’d thought about returning to the work, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore.

“Just meet her. Trust me. You can decide then if you’re doing me a favor, or the other way around.”

And he did trust Ghost. With his life. And if anyone had been keeping track, he imagined the scales were just about even between who owed whom more.

In the end, he agreed to the meeting. For no other reason than to see for himself what had one of the toughest, most resourceful bastards he’d ever known seeking his expertise.

They’d been at the table for a half hour, going over your file and discussing the particulars when John glanced up to catch his first impression of you. A breezy blouse and a long, colorful skirt. You looked around the outside seating area but didn’t see them.

Or more likely, you didn’t recognize Ghost without his mask on, judging by the surprised laughter that met his ears a few seconds later.

“Ah, dove. There you are.” Simon grinned as he stood, pulling you into a friendly hug.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve never seen you without the mask before. I’m trying to reconcile the picture in my head. I’ll try not to stare.” An endearingly warm smile lit up your face.

You weren’t at all what John had pictured, either. He’d clearly have to adjust the conclusions he’d reached based on your file. He’d read about your stressful, demanding job, your high intelligence and predilection for punishment, and he’d imagined someone harder. Colder.

There was a notation in the margin on one of the pages that had stood out as well.

Daddy issues??? Undisclosed but probable.

He made his own note to inquire further, suddenly anxious to know everything there was to know about you.

“The mask is an improvement, don’t you think?” Ghost shrugged. Was he actually blushing?

Surely it was just the heat of the sun or a trick of the light.

“It has its charms, but you have a very honest face.” The way you laid your hand reassuringly on his lieutenant’s arm made John clear his throat and offer his own hand in greeting.

As cute as your connection was, you were there for him, and he noticed the way you’d nervously avoided meeting his gaze. The way you’d chosen to cling instead to Simon, the devil you knew.

He had no desire to forcibly extricate you from your bond with your previous Dom. That wasn’t how it worked. At best, John could match it. Slowly. If he did his job right, in time, you’d come to look at him with a similar trust.

“Nice to meet you,” your eyes finally flitted to his as he took your cool, smooth palm into his own.

It was then that he felt it. The twitchy, fevered thrill of a worthy mission.

“So, what does that file say about me?” You sipped your pint, finding your throat suddenly dry and your forehead warm, and in need of something to do with your hands.

Ghost had excused himself a short while before, after making the introductions and sharing a few stories of his and John’s time working together.

You’d found being alone with him to be...intense. He seemed impenetrable.

He didn’t look down at the folder, and kept it closed on the table. His pen held between his two hands, contemplative and resolute.

“That you’re a pain slut. With a high tolerance.” His voice didn’t rise above his gruff, conversational tone, and you didn’t bother to look around at your fellow patrons seated near you. With the din of the restaurant, they wouldn’t be able to hear. “Does that bother you?”

“No. It’s the truth.” You didn’t have anything to hide. Not from him at least. Not if this was going to work.

“What is it about pain that you seek out?” He crossed his arms over the table and leaned in closer. Biceps bunching under his t-shirt. Ghost had always worn a suit. John looked like he came from a construction site. Unshaven and slightly dangerous.

You didn't hate it.

“When it’s done right, there’s a moment right before it gets to be too much that my body starts to fight back. As if to say, ‘Go on, I dare you. Is that all you’ve got to give?’ And just then, right before I give in and quit, it’s the most powerful I’ve ever been. The most alive.”

“It’s the rush then, is it?” He studied you like a therapist. And you felt like a patient. Only this therapist’s job was to tie you up and make you cry. And come. And cry again. The thought made you shudder inwardly with anticipation.

“It doesn’t work for all pain. It’s not the blood or the risk of injury. I don’t get off at the thought of the dentist...” you trailed off with a light laugh, finding it easier to talk to him about this than you'd thought. “But sometimes, the more helpless I am, the stronger it feels. There aren’t too many things you can do without thinking about it. Against your will. Beating, breathing, feeling. There’s a freedom in it. Again, if it’s done right.”

“You don’t like to think, then. You’d rather be surprised?”

“I don’t mind surprises. I like them, actually. We don’t have to negotiate everything ahead of time, so long as it feels right in the scene.”

You finished off the last of your pint and smoothed the napkin that had caught to the condensation on the bottom. A first date, a therapy session, and an interview all in one. And yet it didn’t fill you with the same anxiety as it should. It could’ve gone wrong in a hundred different ways, and yet the more you confided, the more you relaxed.

“Talk to me about these hard lines.” He opened your file, skimmed it, and moved his pen back and forth as if he was underlining something boldly.

“Always be honest with me about what you’re going to do. Don’t play games or make me have to choose something in order to please you. Keep me engaged, but if I have to make a decision it will take me out of it.”

“That’s important to know, thank you.” He made another note on the page. “It also says no choking, but with an asterisk next to it. Care you elaborate?”

“When I was little, I had terrible asthma. Life threatening at times. It’s under control now, but not being able to breathe, or even the threat of it, doesn’t...” you paused, searching for the right word to convey your biggest fear, “arouse me. Let’s just say.”

“I understand why it wouldn’t.” No sympathetic indulgence, thankfully, just a solid nod of support.

Could he relate? You wondered what hard lines he had. You couldn’t imagine anything scaring him. Ghost had reacted the same when you’d had this discussion. No questions, no bargaining. Just respect for your vulnerability. Surprising, from two men who seemingly had none themselves.

It prompted you to delve in further, and leave no room for misunderstanding, just in case.

“No collars, no ribbons, bows, belts, neckties, your hands, anything please.”

“Neck is off limits. Noted.”

“You can still kiss me there, if that’s something you like. Or you can slap me, to get my attention. And if you need to move me around or hold me down, you can grab my hair.”

You punctuated the last with a helpful smile and a shrug of your shoulders. His gaze seemed to find your neck then, perhaps contemplating what it’d be like to kiss it. Did the thought bring him as much excitement as it did you?

“Fair enough.” A contented grunt was all you received in response.

“You said that this would be a reciprocating agreement. What do you want from me?” The question that had been on your mind since Ghost had called you.

With him, you just paid him money. That was your end of the deal. Without payment, that left too much to your imagination and you’d let it run a bit wild.

“I’ll tell you what I want, and when I want it. Is that clear? I won’t ask for your permission, and you’ll never have to wonder what I’m thinking. I don’t hear yes and no, or green and yellow. Red means take a break and try something else, and the safe word is a hard stop to call it a day.”

“Understood. Thank you.” It was a plan you could definitely work with. “But what about you? What do you hope to get out of this?”

“I like to be in charge. Take care of things. And do the hard things that need to be done.”

“And who takes care of you?” A simple question, but he seemed to bristle at it. Perhaps you’d pushed him too far, too soon.

“Good little girls who listen and behave.” He adjusted himself in his seat, straightening as if to get back some control. “Let’s talk punishments. No spanking, obviously. You’ll enjoy it too much.” His eyes seemed to darken in both amusement and desire.

No doubt proud of himself for changing the subject and redirecting the friendly interrogation.

“Hopefully I won’t displease you, but you could ignore me. That will make me rethink my attitude real quick,” you replied, with an answering grin.

“Ignore you? I think that would hurt me more than you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You liked that. Probably said as much with the flood of heat to your cheeks and the breathless giggle that sounded so foreign to your ears.

“I think we’ll get along just fine...John?” You questioned what name he wanted to be called.

“Sir. Just sir.”

On the day of your appointment, he texted you the location and the key code for the door lock. You found the building easily, and stepped into the elevator, double checking the apartment number to be sure you were in the right place.

When the code worked on the door to the fifth floor, you entered to find that it was someone’s home.

The office of Life Connect 141 was in a nondescript office space on the outskirts of Canary Wharf, not far from your office. If anyone spotted you, you could use the excuse of taking a meeting or doing your due diligence on a property you were looking to liquidate.

This, on the other hand, was well off the beaten path. A restored factory building in a neighborhood you weren’t familiar with, but appeared to be up and coming judging by the activity along the street. You’d already noted a few restaurants to try on the short walk from the Tube station and filed them away to pick up something to eat on your way home.

A flat of this size and builder quality must have cost a premium, or else the owner bought in cheap before the neighborhood began to blossom. It was well-appointed and comfortable. Floor to ceiling windows that opened to look just above the shorter buildings next door. Privacy from looking directly at your neighbors, but still connected to the bustling down below.

Once inside, you followed his directions to the letter. You’d arrived early, dimmed the lights and set your bag on the hook by the door. Cell phone ringer turned off and your shoes in the basket in the hall.

"I’ll leave what I want you to wear on a chair, you’ll know which one. Wear nothing else. There will be a pillow on the floor, you’ll know which one. You’ll greet me on it."

As you moved in past the entryway, the remaining room was an open concept. A kitchen with an attached dining area, and a living space on the opposite side. Two plush sofas and an assortment of chairs and tables. You didn’t know what to expect. A pleasure room, maybe, or a dungeon of racks and toys.

It was just a living room.

Any nerves you’d been holding onto dissolved when you spotted the fabric draped across the lapis lazuli velvet wing-backed armchair. Was that going to be his seat? It was large enough to hold both of you comfortably...if you were on his lap. It was certainly a statement piece.

The outfit he’d chosen was a simple, pink silk backless slip dress. Not cheap satin, but the softest, sheerest gossamer. You shivered as you stripped from your street clothes and gently settled the confection over your skin. It barely covered your ass as you folded your things and hid them out of sight.

You briefly warred with whether to leave your hair up or down, deciding on the former, before you finally took a deep breath to center yourself. Whatever happened next was out of your control.

When your knees met with the pillow at the foot of The Chair, your mind emptied and you felt the tension that you’d been carrying for weeks start to fade.

Just in time to hear the click of the front door.

#call of duty #john price #captain john price #captain price #price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #cod smut #task force 141 #cod 141

188 notes · View notes

barefoothighlander · 1 year ago

Text

fear of the dark

summary: ghost is teaching you to evade enemies before your little game turns into something darker

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), dub con, light hunter/prey dynamic, unprotected pinv, fingering, creampie, mask stays on, knife play, name calling, outdoor sex, biting, est relationship

“It goes on like this, green light means it’s active, the red means it’s off” He tucks the comm behind your ear, securing it before pulling his hands back. “This button is to talk, you have to wait for a second for the feed to run through but if anything happens, you tell me”

“Got it, green on, press to talk”

“And keep to channel 4”

You huff a breath, “Okay”

“You ready?”

“What do I get if I outrun you”

“A new skill"

“Boo”

“And if you win” You’re voice is quieter,

“You’ll find out” His thumb strokes across your cheek, “I’ll give you a head start, no leaving the property line, use what I’ve taught you and stay out of my sights, if you make it to sunrise you win”

You smirk, “See you at sunrise”

Turning around you march away from him, moving at a rushed pace, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, the ground is dry which means your tracks will be harder to find, moving your way towards the woods you spare a glance behind you, his large frame relaxed against the side of the house, illuminated by the single light outside as his hands cling to his vest his eyes glued to you.

It’s pitch black outside, the moon provided minimal light through the branches of the tree, guiding your path, you know he doesn’t have his night vision but he’s an expert at finding tracks, one of the few skills his father taught him when they’d go hunting.

You’re breathing heavy as you stumble over rocks, walking for what already felt like hours, navigating around the dark trying to cover your tracks. You make sure to stick to dry ground, knowing that if you stepped in any mud he’d notice the footprints and be on you in an instant.

You reach a small clearing in the woods, deciding it was as good a place as any to take a small rest, you’re not sure how much of a head start he gave you but you know you can’t sit for long. It’s strangely quiet, only a few noises of squirrels running through trees fills the air, there’s no wind or birds, all you can hear is the sound of your own heart, thudding in your ears.

You glimpse at your watch, it’s only midnight, the sun wouldn’t be up for another six hours and you had a lot of ground to cover. Pushing yourself from your position you continue through the woods, avoiding patches of leaves and sticks that could snap as you walk.

Your legs are aching by the time you reach a small stream, trying to navigate your position, doing your best to recall where the stream started. It’s tempting to just jump in, the humid air of summer doing little to cool your sweat beaded skin, the effort of moving up and down hills taking its toll on your muscles.

Fuck it.

If anything it’ll be harder for him to find you in the stream, pulling your boots off and stringing them to your backpack you step in, the coke water forming goosebumps on your skin as you wiggle your toes through the stream. You bend down to grab a hand-full, splashing it against your warm cheeks in an effort to cool down, letting it trickle down your neck as it wets the collar of your shirt.

“Oi, you there?”

His voice rings through your comm, you move to respond but stop yourself, if you answered now he’d know exactly where you were, the noise from the water would echo through your mic, directly into his earpiece.

You jump out of the stream quickly, moving a few paces away so that it was out of earshot before pressing your finger to the button.

"You miss me already?"

“Just checking in"

"Sure"

“Don’t be a brat”

“What are you gonna do about it” You tease through the comms

“Wanna find out?” His voice is deeper

Your hair suddenly stands on end,

He waits a beat, “You need to focus”

“I am”

“What if I was an enemy”

“What are you gonna do, you can’t even find me”

He doesn’t respond.

“Simon?"

The line drops and so does your heart, realizing that he could be directly behind you a sense of panic sets in, you jump back into the stream, following its flow as you rush through the water, your feet splashing it onto your clothes as you make your way through, praying it would cover your tracks.

You’re on edge, the silence of the forest now gone as every twig that snaps grabs your attention, your head on a swivel as you reach a small pond. Stepping out of the water and pulling your boots back on, you squint your eyes around trying to catch a glimpse of him, your breath catching in your throat everytime a branch shifted.

You move further into the woods, checking your watch again 1:36 how had it only been an hour and a half, it felt like forever since you stepped into the trees, the soothing chill of the water now gone, your legs ached from your efforts.

“Are your pants soaked?” His voice breaks your thoughts,

“What?”

“Water was a nice touch”

The line drops again, he’s at the top of the stream which gives you a little bit to gain some distance, tugging your bag around your shoulders you hike further.

Everything starts to look the same, all the trees are reminiscent of each other, you’ll admit you’re lost, but not to him, he’d accuse you of giving up and you didn’t want that. You try your best to navigate your direction, trying to use the stars as some sort of guide but it’s useless, the clouds in the sky block half your view and you can’t remember anything about astronomy anyway, your brain too clouded by the pain in your body.

Your breath hitches at the noise of a branch snapping, your heartbeat now in your ears, you didn't factor in how scary the woods are at night, every sense heightened in the dark.

"Simon?"

You call through your comms but there's no answer, it's dead air, your nerves on fire now, your we’re alone completely, you really didn’t think this through, didn’t stop to consider what would happen if the comms went dead.

You see a small light to your right, squinting your eyes to figure out what it’s from, hoping it was a street light of some sort you move toward it, moving past trees and fallen branches to get to it.

You’re huffing for air as you approach it, your eyes almost shut as it nears, blinding you, you shield your face with a hand,

“What’d I tell you about strange lights”

Your heart drops as you hear him, the crunching of leaves under his boots as he moves near you. You stumble back from him, head turning to find some sort of escape route,

“What’d I tell you love”

you swivel your head from his form to behind you, “They’re deceiving”. In a burst of adrenaline you take off, running away from him as he fades from view, it’s unnerving the way he just walks, he’s not chasing you, it’s like he knows where you’re going.

You’re feet carry you faster than you can think, twisting around trees and over hills, the taste of metal in your mouth as your palm runs over your stomach, a cramp settling into the muscle. You rest against a large oak, closing your eyes and catching your breath, your skin on fire as you try to focus on the sounds around you.

You wait a moment, bracing yourself before turning your body to move, gasping as you feel a hand tug you back.

“Gotcha”

You’re gasping for air as he pins you against the tree, his hands clamped around your arms, keeping you from fighting back.

“Okay, you win, let’s go home”

“Not without my prize”

“Simon, please” Your body is weak against his, no energy left in your muscles as he invaded your space, his chest pressing against yours, the fabric of his vest digging into your flesh.

“You didn’t listen”

“What?” Your brain is a fog

“You did nearly everything wrong, I could’ve had you the minute you stepped into the woods”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologize, you’ll learn”

Your hooded eyes plead with him, begging to go home, to rest but finding no sympathy, he leans his face towards yours, his chin next to your neck.

“I think you wanted to get caught, wanted to see what would happen”

His words click in your head, the heat from your skin suddenly transferring to your core, your arms straining against his grip as you let out a small whimper.

“That’s it, isn’t it, you wanted be to find you, to teach you a proper lesson”

He squeezes your arms tighter when you don’t respond, his eyes moving to stare into yours, his gaze is dark something darker behind it.

“That’s alright love, I’ll give you what you want, but you have to listen”

You squeeze your thighs, trying to rid yourself of the ache between them as his hand trails down your side. He removes it for a minute, your stomach flinching as you feel the press of cold metal against it, it forms goosebumps on your skin, he trails it toward your breasts, teasing it through the valley of them before placing it under the hem of your shirt, splitting the fabric up the middle.

The cold air hits your skin causing your nipples to harden as he traces the blade over your skin, pressing it flat against the raised buds.

“You look good like this, all ready for me to use”

Your chest maintains a steady rise and fall, “Si-“

“Not this time love”

Your face falls as you watch his face, the shell of a skull staring back at you, “Ghost, please”

He pays no attention to your words, running his knife along your skin before settling it above the hem of your pants, wriggling your hips to sooth your arousal.

“Needy little thing aren’t you”

He removes his hands from you, giving you an out but you stand in front of him, weak fingers working to undo your pants, he watches as you stumble to step out of them, leaving you in your underwear, the chill outside doing little to settle your nerves.

“Such a perfect little thing” He runs a gloves hand over your breasts, humming as you let out a sigh. Your body freezes as his knife makes contact with your skin again, trailing it towards your core before using it to cut your panties, letting the fabric drop.

He flips the blade, teasing your thighs with the handle of it before he runs it through your folds, biting back a gasp, there was no way to hide your arousal now.

He pulls his knife into view, your slick coating the handle, glistening in front of your face “You’re fucking soaked, you little slut”

“Open your mouth”

You do as he says, flattening your tongue and pushing it out as his hand cups your jaw, holding it open. He runs the handle across the muscle, the taste of yourself dancing over your taste buds as he pushes it slowly into your mouth, stifling a chuckle as you gag around the handle. He watches the string of spit that forms between you and the weapon as he retracts it from your mouth, his eyes glancing toward your core, your unsteady legs holding you up as he brings the weapon towards it.

“Do you think you deserve my cock?”

“Yes, please Ghost”

He teases the handle between your folds, holding it against your weeping core, forcing you to clench around nothing.

Your head falls forward as he pushes it into you, the rough material running along your walls as he pumps it into you. Your hand reaches to brace on his shoulder, holding yourself up before his free hand connects with your throat, pushing you back against the tree. Your body is on display for him, his head looking down to where your cunt is swallowing his blade, groaning at the sight of your slick leaking from your core.

“Greedy little slut, you’d take anything wouldn’t you”

You shake your head, your voice strained by his grip on your neck,

“You will, you’ll take everything I give you”

He thrusts the handle into you faster, tightening his hand as you start to grind yourself down on it,

“Need more, please”

“You wanna cum on my knife you fucking slag”

“Please” You open your eyes at him, your face flush as you silently beg, he releases your throat, allowing you a breath as his gloved hand meets your clit, you arch your back at the contact, the rough circles providing enough stimulation that you feel your knees weaken.

“Do it, cum for me”

His fingers rub along your bud and you come undone, your fingers digging into his vest as you cum with a sob, your body falling forward against him as his fingers work you through your high. He feels you finish, pulling his knife from you, listening to you whimper from the loss of contact as he throws it to the dirt.

His arms lock under your thighs, hoisting your weak from against him and pressing your back against the tree, he grinds his clothed erection against your cunt, your core soaking his pants as your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re gonna take it, all of it”

Your pussy clench’s at the thought, your ears failing to hear hun unzip his pants, the tip of his cock reading through your folds, smearing your slick around your thighs as he lines himself up.

You bury your head in his neck as he pushes in, the stretch of him burning your walls as he stuffs his cock inside. His hands grip your waist, moving you further down his length until his tip is buried in your cervix, your fingers digging into his back as you whimper around him.

“That’s it, gonna fill this tiny cunt”

He holds you against the tree, keeping you up as his hips pull back, his cock dragging against your walls before he thrusts it back in, his balls slap against your ass as he pounds his cock into you, forcing you to take every inch.

“Fuck, can practically see myself in you”

He holds you with one arm while the other presses firmly to your stomach,

“Gonna split you on my fat fucking cock, you’d like that huh?”

His hand makes contact with the side of your ass when you don’t respond,

“I said you’d like that, wouldn’t you”

“Yes!” You scream, the heartbeat in your ears overpowering any other noise in the area as he moulds you to his cock.

“Gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum, let you walk around with my seed in your cunt, dirty fucking whore”

He buried himself deeper with every thrust, pulling almost all the way out only to force his length back in, the weight behind his thrust bouncing you up and down, his eyes watching the way your breasts jump with every pump of his cock.

His fingers trail to your sensitive clit, pinching the bud, you let out a yelp, bearing your teeth into the base of his neck as he grunts, you mark his flesh as his grip on you gets tighter, sure to leave bruises in their wake.

Tears well in the corners of your eyes as you drop your cheek to his shoulder, the saliva in your moth dripping to wet his collar as he works another orgasm from you.

“Cum on my cock, want you to soak me, feel you squeeze me with your tight little cunt”

The bark of the tree scrapes against your bare skin, forcing you to arch into him, his cock driving deeper into you as you sob around him, his fingers circling and flicking over your clit, the band inside you stretching as your body melts.

You clench down on him, greedily taking every inch as you cum, your slick dripping from your core to wet his cock, your cum coating the opening of his pants as he grinds his pelvis against your clit, the friction from his pubic hair adding another layer as you ride out your orgasm.

You’re reduced to whimpers as he takes over all your senses, all you can hear, feel, see is him, the way his cock has you full, his grunts filling your ears as your gaze is stuck on him.

“That’s it baby, so good for me, such a perfect little slut”

You cling to him with weak limbs as his knuckles go white from his gold on you, his arms rising you up and down to meet his thrusts as he chases his high,

“That’s it, fuck that’s it, taking me so well”

He quickens his pace, fucking you ruthlessly, your aching core sucking him in as he pushes his length into you, his tip buried deep inside your walls as he holds you against his chest. Your lower stomach warms with the feeling of him spilling inside you, flooding your core as you sigh, your pussy fluttering as he pulls from you, watching his seed leak from your cunt before pushing it back in with two fingers, making sure it all stays in.

He holds you for a moment, letting you regain your composure before gently letting you down, his hand on your waist holding you steady as he removes his jacket, wrapping it around your naked form providing some sort of warmth.

You watch him with heavy lids, your body swaying at you try to stay upright, his stare is softer now as he bends down, his arms snaking under your legs to pick you up, holding you against his chest.

“Did so well love” He presses his forehead to yours, the heat of his body warming your cold limbs, “Let’s go home”.

He maneuvers around carefully, holding you steady as he moves around the trees, his gaze shifting to you every minute to make sure you were okay. He makes it out of the woods in minutes, the warm light of the windows coming into view as your body grows tired.

He carrie’s you into the house, slowly making his way towards the bathroom, setting you down for a moment so he can turn the tap on the bath on, he kneels in front of you, his hands tugging his mask off so you can see him, giving him a weak smile as he gently removes your remaining clothes.

He helps you to stand, walking towards the warm bath, feeling your muscles sooth as you step in, the water washing over your skin. He strips his own clothes, feeling the water rise as he sits behind you, his legs bent beside your frame as you lean back against his chest.

He runs a gentle cloth over your skin, cleaning up any dirt and grime that was on it, carefully cleaning around your core before his arms settle around your stomach, holding you close.

He rests his lips against the crown of your head as you focus on the sound of his breaths, steady behind you, lulling you to sleep as his thumbs trace over your skin.

#tw: dubcon #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #cod mw x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost fluff #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader

2K notes · View notes

dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 months ago

Text

* * * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 10, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Sep 11, 2024

Former president Trump has always approached debates as professional wrestling events in which the key is not to explain policies or answer questions, but rather to demonstrate dominance over your opponent. In 2016 the Democratic nominee, former secretary of state Hillary Clinton, had a hard time countering this strategy effectively because of the many expectations of what was appropriate behavior for a female presidential candidate. In 2020 and then again in the June 2024 “debate,” Democratic candidate Joe Biden’s stutter made it difficult to counter Trump’s scattershot attacks.

The question for Democratic presidential nominee Vice President Kamala Harris in tonight’s presidential debate was not how to answer policy questions, but how to counter Trump’s dominance displays while also appealing to the American people.

She and her team figured it out, and today they played the former president brilliantly. He took the bait, and tonight he self-destructed. In a live debate, on national television.

The Harris campaign began the day trolling Trump with a new campaign ad featuring the pieces of former president Barack Obama’s speech at the August Democratic National Convention that concerned Trump. “Here’s a 78-year-old billionaire”—the ad cuts to a photo of Trump in a golf cart—“who has not stopped whining about his problems.” Then a clip of Trump shows him complaining about Harris’s crowds, before Obama notes Trump’s “weird obsession with crowd sizes,” complete with Obama’s hand motion suggesting Trump’s sizes were small. “It just goes on, and on, and on,” Obama says, before the ad shows empty seats and people yawning at Trump’s rallies.

“America’s ready for a new chapter,” Obama says to the overflow crowd cheering at Chicago’s United Center during the Democratic National Convention. “We are ready for a President Kamala Harris!” At the end, even Harris’s standard statement, “I’m Kamala Harris and I approved this message,” sounds like a challenge.

This morning, the Harris campaign began running the ad on the Fox News Channel.

At the same time, they began running Philadelphia-themed ads across the city on billboards, in the Philadelphia Inquirer, and on food trucks and taxi cabs, sidewalk art, and digital projections making fun of Trump’s fascination with crowd sizes. They showed, for example, a full-sized Philadelphia pretzel labeled “Harris” alongside a piece of one that looked like an upside down U labeled “Trump.”

The taunting might have been behind Trump’s demand for loyalty from Republican lawmakers this afternoon, telling them to shut down the government if he doesn’t get his way on the inclusion of a voter suppression measure in the bill to fund the government. The right has often relied on threats of government shutdowns to try to get their way, but such shutdowns are never popular, and even moderate Republicans are leery of launching one just before an election.

Nonetheless, Trump tried to lock them into such a shutdown, reiterating in a post this afternoon the lie that undocumented immigrants are voting in presidential elections. “If Republicans in the House, and Senate, don’t get absolute assurances on Election Security, THEY SHOULD, IN NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM, GO FORWARD WITH A CONTINUING RESOLUTION ON THE BUDGET. THE DEMOCRATS ARE TRYING TO ‘STUFF’ VOTER REGISTRATIONS WITH ILLEGAL ALIENS. DON’T LET IT HAPPEN—CLOSE IT DOWN.”

Throughout the day, the Harris campaign placed posts on social media showing Harris looking crisp and presidential and Trump looking old and unkempt. And then, for ten minutes in the hour before the debate, the Harris campaign held a drone show over the Philadelphia Museum of Art showing campaign slogans and then turning the words “MADAM VICE PRESIDENT” into “MADAM PRESIDENT.”

Hugo Lowell of The Guardian reported today that Trump’s advisors were concerned ahead of the debate about whether they would get “happy Trump” or “angry Trump,” worrying that a frustrated Trump would engage in the vicious personal attacks that turn voters off. They expressed relief that having the microphones muted when it was not a candidate’s turn to speak would prevent Harris from irritating him with fact checks and snark of her own. Conservative lawyer George Conway noted that it was “[i]nteresting how one campaign is extremely concerned about the emotional stability of its candidate, and how the other is not.”

Harris’s attacks on Trump, including her campaign’s subtle digs at his masculinity, appeared to have accomplished what they set out to. When the two came out on stage, he went straight to his podium, while she strode across the stage, moved into his space, held out her hand, introduced herself and wished him well: “Kamala Harris. Have a good debate.” He muttered in response, “Nice to see you.” Then she took her own spot at the podium. When the debate opened, it was clear that Harris was the dominant figure and that her opponent was “angry Trump.” He would not look at her during the debate.

In her first answer, Harris tried to set out both her own story as a child of the middle class and how she intended to build an opportunity economy for others, lowering food and housing costs and opening the way for more small businesses. It was a lot, quickly, and she looked a little nervous.

Then Trump spoke and it was clear he was going off the rails. His first comment was to suggest Harris was lying, and then to insist that his proposed tariffs will solve everything, although he has the way tariffs work entirely backward: they are paid by the consumer, not by foreign countries. As he followed with a long list of his rally lies, Harris started to smile.

From then on, he continued to produce rally stories full of wild exaggerations and attack Harris with lies in what CNN fact-checker Daniel Dale called “a staggeringly dishonest debate performance from former president Trump.” "No major presidential candidate before Donald Trump has ever lied with this kind of frequency,” Dale said. “A remarkably large chunk of what he said tonight was just not true. This wasn't little exaggerations, political spin. A lot of his false claims were untethered to reality." As Harris spoke directly to the American people, growing stronger and stronger, Trump got wilder and angrier and told more and more crazy stories.

And then, about ten minutes into the debate, Harris baited him. She invited the American people to go to one of his rallies, where “he talks about fictional characters like Hannibal Lecter, he will talk about ‘windmills cause cancer.’ And what you will also notice is that people start leaving his rallies early out of exhaustion and boredom.”

Trump lost it. He defended his rallies, said Harris couldn’t get anyone to attend hers and has to bus in attendees (in reality, her rallies are packed and he is the one who reportedly hires attendees), and then, in his fury, repeated the lie about immigrants eating pets. When a moderator fact-checked that story, he fought back, saying he heard it on television.

And from then on, Harris kept baiting him while explaining her own policies directly to the camera, and he took the bait every single time. He ran down every rabbit hole and appeared unable to finish a thought. Notably, he refused to say he would not sign a national abortion ban and admitted that after nine years of promising one, he had no health care plan (he has, he said, “concepts of a plan,” and if they pan out, he’ll let us know in the “not too distant future”).

He threatened World War III and repeated that the U.S. is “a failing nation.” He told a long story about threatening “Abdul,” the leader of the Taliban; in fact, the leader of the Taliban since 2016 is Mullah Hibatullah Akhundzada. In response to Harris’s statement that foreign leaders thought he was a disgrace, Trump answered that Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán, who destroyed his country’s democracy and replaced it with a dictatorship, says he’s a good leader. New York Times columnist David French wrote: “It's like she's debating MAGA Twitter come to life.”

The debate moderators, David Muir and Linsey Davis of ABC, asked solid questions and corrected the most egregious of Trump’s lies. But as he continued to interrupt and yell at Harris, they increasingly gave him leeway to do so. This meant he spoke more often and for more time than Harris; MSNBC’s Stephanie Ruhle reported that he spoke 39 times for a total of 41.9 minutes, to her 23 times for a total of 37.1 minutes. But the extra time did him no favors.

By the end of the evening, Harris had delivered a clear message about her hopes to move the country forward beyond years of using race to divide people who have far more in common than they have differences. She promised to develop an economy that will build small businesses and support a growing middle class, while protecting rights, including the right to make reproductive decisions without the intrusion of the state. And she showed the nation that Trump can be baited, that he lies freely and incoherently, and—perhaps crucially—that he is no longer the dominant politician in America.

Immediately after the debate, the Harris campaign continued their demonstration of dominance. Harris-Walz campaign chair Jen O’Malley Dillon released a statement recapping Harris’s strength and Trump’s angry incoherence. She concluded: “Vice President Harris is ready for a second debate. Is Donald Trump?”

Then things got even worse for Trump.

Music phenomenon Taylor Swift endorsed Harris, telling her 283 million Instagram followers that she felt she had to because of Trump’s earlier reposting of an AI image of her seeming to endorse him. That, she said, “brought me to the conclusion that I need to be very transparent about my actual plans for this election as a voter. The simplest way to combat misinformation is with the truth. I will be casting my vote for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz in the 2024 Presidential Election.”

After explaining why she was supporting Harris and Walz and urging her fans to do their own research, Swift signed off: “Taylor Swift, Childless Cat Lady.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #election 2024 #debates #Kamala Harris #Trump lies

95 notes · View notes

asha-mage · 1 year ago

Text

I feel like I am going to be having random WoT Finale thoughts for the next six months, but one I especially want to hit up now:

The actual logistics of the Whitecloak attack on Falme, from the military tactics to the geo politics of it all are so perfectly on point that it's like something Jordan would have written himself.

In the books the Whitecloaks are on Tomon Head for unrelated reasons to the Seanchan (ones that would be hard to establish properly in a tv format where we don't have the time to follow Bornhold Sr for six odd scenes), so the show runners shifted it so that they are explicitly answering a call for aid from a foreign throne. The Whitecloaks are a autonomous military body beholden to no nation that operates with pseudo-legality in most places that are not under their influence, and the idea of expanding that influence to another nation is far to tempting to resist, especially when no other power is answering the Falme's call for aid, including the White Tower, who are the Whitecloak's primary rival. On principles it seems like they are stepping up to help a victimized nation that the 'witches' have abandoned, or even orchestrated the fall of.

And then on a practical level, the actual tactics they employ are fiendishly clever. Using incense burners to create a fog to hide their approach and blunt the effectiveness of the enemy channelers (who need to be able to see something to target their weaves). This also makes sense on a world building level- the Whitecloaks probably have a dozen tactics in their back pockets to deal with an outright war against the Aes Sedai if it ever breaks out. Then once the Whitecloaks close up to the walls, they send in their cavalry first, to overwhelm enemy defenses before they can get the gates shut, then send in the infantry to secure and pacify the remaining resistance not taken out by the shock charge. At this point the Seanchan have to focus their fighting to the streets of Falme, and the best way to do that is to gather their damane on the nearby tower and rain down artillery fire in an attempt to break the Whitecloaks into retreat- a brutal strategy likely to result in the deaths of their own troops and civilians, but necessary if they are going to have any hope of holding the city.

And then is where things get INSANE. See, conventional medieval military wisdom dictates that in a situation where the gates are breached already siege engines have no use. Their too clumsy, taking to much time to aim and fire to be much use in a melee brawl like this. Siege engines are useful for breaking fortifications, toppling walls, etc, so if used offensively almost always come out first. That means that no one is expecting them to roll out of that fog and hurl stones at the damane's position. In one strike Bornhold Senior decapitates the enemy's primary advantage over him and tilts the battle in his favor. (And even if the damane had managed to counter the strike, they would be weakened significantly, having to focus on blocking further attacks and counter attacking the siege engines- not easy with the fog- instead of keeping the fighting in the streets under control).

This might be one of those things that only I care about, but good employment of medieval military tactics combined with magical fantasy elements always makes me go

#WoT #Wheel of Time #WoT On Prime #Wheel of Time on Prime #Geofram Bornhald #Dain Bornhold #WoT s2 e8 #Emond Valda #This is the kind of shit Jordan would have done and it makes me go BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR #Geofram Bornhold out here gunning for Great Captain status #Seanchan #Wot Musing #Wot Meta #Wheel of Time meta #Children of the Light #Whitecloaks

521 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Note

OH GOD YOUR REQS R OPEN, i would rlly like to request something, could you write an one shot of price with a little daugther reader? just like, him coming home and spending some time with his little girl, she tells him about her school, he tells her some funny stories that happened while he was at work, he cooks her favorite meal, just a big fluff, i love this man more than anything and i just need some paternal love LMAO, feel totally free to deny! do everything in your time and remember to take good care of urself!

Memories of Youth

Pairing: Father!John Price x F!Daughter!Reader

Synopsis: It was hard being away from his little girl, but warm mornings spent in each other's company were blessings - even if they were far and few in between. It didn't matter the form.

Word Count: 4.5k (short and sweet)

Warnings: Angst (just a little cuz I can't help myself), a lotta fluff, banter, just good platonic/paternal relationship in general, etc.

A/N: Didn't specify if the reader was adopted or blood-related, so that's really up to you! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He got the call at the halfway point of crossing the English Channel, Northern France behind him and Southern England just on the horizon line as the sun began to spread its orange glow over the waves. Sitting high above the water in a slick black Heli, John Price’s hand snaps to his side pocket, fingers deftly peeling back the layers as the overwhelming sound of helicopter blades shakes the hull.

The rest of Task Force 141 watch with varying interest, only Gaz taking notice of the sudden frown that mars his Captain’s face; the furrowed brow, and the spark of concern in his eyes. A call was unusual. The Sargeant tries not to intrude, but can’t help the way his body lightly shifts so he can have a better view.

John doesn't bother to look at the contact when he takes the device out, rapidly pressing the answer button and slotting the phone at his ear, tilting his head so his opposite rests at the junction of his shoulder. It only stops a fraction of the noise, even so, it would have to do for now. But with how his ears were already straining to find a sound over the line, he may not need to force out the jarring racket after all.

Inside his chest, John’s heart is racing – confusion laces his mind. This was abnormal.

I told her only to call if it was an emergency. What could she have gotten herself into now? I said to stay out of trouble…

“Where are you?!” The Brit has to shout down the line, his familiar deep accent loud and guttural.

His mind flies through every possibility. An intruder had broken into the house, you had broken your arm falling down the stairs again, or a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Fuck…he was too far away to help if anything bad had happened. John’s jaw clenches, eyes looking out over the water as the bucket hat on his head flops in the wind. It was only a product of his job that made him think like that; years of intuition and thinking on the fly leading to his mind making up the worst scenarios.

Especially when you called on a secure line when he told you it was only appropriate for life-and-death situations. Especially when it was his little girl.

I told ‘er about the Pistol in my office, yeah? The Captain asks himself with a steel-like resolve. And gave her Laswell’s number?

John’s fingers tighten over the phone when he hears your breath over the line, a shuffling of clothes, and a deep exhale.

“Sunshine!” He tries again, sitting up straighter as his pulse gets faster. Why isn’t she answering me? “Where are you right–”

“We don’t have anything for breakfast.” Your voice is heavy with sleep; fatigue drowning the syllables and holding them under the very waves that rage under John only separated by thin sheets of metal.

The Brit stops. His body freezes, and as the tense minutes go by his panic falls away and leaves a thick stain of annoyance resting behind his eyelids. Of course. John brings two fingers to his nose bridge, digging into the skin until tiny crescent moons are left behind; he has to take a deep breath before answering, but his tone leaves nothing to the imagination.

“...Breakfast…?”

“Yeah, Old Man, you need me to spell it for you? B-R-E-A-K-F-A–”

“Enough!” John barks stiffly and has to hold back his anger as you laugh from the other side. Ever the jokester – did you not realize how serious this was? How fast your father’s heart was racing with adrenaline?

Fuck, he had just about been ready to radio the cockpit and force the pilots to fly faster.

Across the way, Ghost locks eyes with the man, and with a tilt of his head and a loud call he asks, “That the Mutt?”

The Captain’s eyes slip back into a firm blank slate.

“Affirm.” John tilts the phone away from his mouth, ignoring your sarcastic comments to catch his sanity for a moment and respond to his Lieutenant.

Simon blinks as Johnny perks up at his side, looking in from the view in favor of the Captain with newfound interest. A bright smile forms over his scruffy cheeks

“She all good?” The skeletal man asks, and Gaz smirks lazily tapping his fingers over his knee, immediately noticing your shenanigans and the way the Cap was so worked up.

But anyone would be when they had a daughter thousands of miles away.

John simply nods once with an exasperated expression to Ghost. MacTavish snorts out a laugh, knowing the context of the situation without having to think hard.

“Is that Uncle Simon?” You ask, and with a scratch at his beard, your father hums in confirmation, letting the sound of your voice put him more at ease. She’s just fine. “Tell him I want him to come over and play Mario Cart with Gaz, Johnny, and me again! He wiped the floor with ‘em last time!”

There’s a clinking of pots and pans as you move throughout the house.

“Sweetheart,” Your father grumbles, sighing through the call. His voice takes on the authoritative tone that works for both soldiers and teenagers – but it rarely works on you, despite that fact. Took after your dad too much, is what John would say. Never listened until it was absolutely necessary. “What did I tell you about callin’ this phone when I’m away from the house?”

He hears your scoff and raises a warning eyebrow, though you can’t see it. You know your dad enough to know he’s doing it despite being separated. It was pretty common.

“Not to, unless it’s an emergency…But I’d say food is a big enough reason, y’know? Unless you want me to eat the leftover cake for breakfast – which I haven’t thrown out as a possibility yet, honestly.”

“You’re not eatin’ bloody cake for breakfast. You’ll get sick.” Gaz snickers, turning his face away to hide the amusement at the comment.

It hadn’t been a surprise that the Captain’s daughter was such a familiar creature – they saw traits reflected every time the two were together. Everyone had expected her to take after her old man in nearly everything, and when she had they had bumped fists and prayed for the brown-bearded man. But it was funny nonetheless, considering they got along better than most fathers and daughters; practically reading each other's minds when everyone was playing poker. Johnny was still pretty ticked off about that – he’s a good deal deep into the sweets debt he owes you because Price helps you win. But where they really shined was with the shared deadpan attitudes, bottom-of-the-barrel sarcasm, and knowing how to command a room without even trying. Safe to assume that the rest of the team would do anything for you.

“Will not.” You grumble in retaliation, and John’s lips threaten to tilt into a grumpy smile when he hears you put the cake plate back into the counter.

Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, the brown-haired man takes a glance outside, watching the waves go bright orange as they lap and writhe like great sea serpents.

“How long have you been up, eh? The sun’s barely risen. Thought Sunday was when you always slept in?”

There’s a pause in what John believed were fingers digging through a cupboard, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as the silence grows long. He frowns when you speak again, words so quiet he has to place a hand over his other ear to hear properly. Having half a mind to go and tell the pilots to hurry up and go faster so he can just talk to his little girl in person, he refrains, knowing that’s not how this works. But something was wrong – it had been laced in your previous words, as tiny and unnoticeable as it may have been. Only a father would notice it.

“You said you were gonna be home last night. I stayed up.” It takes a moment of halted breathing before John’s eyes widen, blues full of realization.

Oh.

…Damn it. He lets out the tense breath of air from his lips, shifting in his seat as the gear around his body weighs him down. His gun digs into his chest.

He hadn't seen you for over a week – leaving you in the care of a close and trusted neighbor, Mrs. Lilly, just as he always had when he needed to leave for work on short notice. But seeing as you were older now, it became apparent that, with your learned independence, staying at the house by yourself was alright as long as you checked in with the neighbor every morning and night. You had been waiting for him to come home. All alone. In the dark.

Fucken’ hell, John thinks in a deep layer of guilt as wrinkles overtake his forehead, I did tell her I’d be back yesterday. I forgot to call and tell ‘er. Shit! He didn’t want to imagine the stress that had been put on your shoulders. God, what’ve I done?

Not checking in was something he had never missed before – he always told you when he was about to come back. What had gone wrong this time? How had something that important just slipped his mind? Sure the Op had been tedious, but he was trained to handle it. It was no excuse.

“Sweetheart,” John starts and then pauses the soft and gentle endearment, knowing that an apology didn’t fit into what you were looking for. You didn’t want an ‘I’m sorry’ right now, you wanted your father. Flattening his lips into a line, he continues, wishing he was with you more than ever so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “...I should be back before 1200. How about when I get back I’ll cook you up somethin’ myself, yeah? Or we can go to that Cafe you like down on Newman Street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“...When do you have to go back?” You don’t answer his question, and yours makes his heart hurt.

John clears his throat.

“None of that, now. We’ll talk more when I get back, Darling, alright?” You don’t respond, but he hears you sigh and quietly scoff under your breath. “Alright?” He tries again, head tilting forward and eyebrows rising as if you could see him. Maybe you could.

“Fine. But you better make me pancakes. I don’t care if it’ll be noon.”

“Pancakes it is.” The Captain looks up in time to see Johnny mouthing words to him, and with a blank face and stiff lip, your father mutters with a grunt, “Johnny says ‘hello.’”

Your shocked snort makes him feel better, but a layer of guilt still stays. You were awake all night waiting for him, and he never showed up. Did you sleep on the couch? Damnit, he hoped you didn’t…but in his rattling chest knew you had. He found you like that every time he came back from a long stay away. Huddled under blankets, no pillow under your head. Sometimes you steal one of his shirts and hold it like a stuffed bear to your chest, shoving your face into it.

How could I forget to fucken’ call her?

Your voice takes him out of his growing self-resentment.

“Tell him to watch his back – I’m getting better at Rainbow Road. Soon enough I’ll be able to beat him in a 1V1!” John can’t help the slow chuckle that bounces in his throat, mind, for the moment, at ease as long as you continue to speak to him.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along. But, eh,” The Brit makes sure he speaks slowly, letting you hear every syllable of his next words. “Promise me you’ll stay at the house until I get there. No goin’ out with friends, yeah? You know how I worry.” John ignores the teasing look from Gaz and peeks out again to see how close they were to the mainland with narrowed lids. “‘Specially when I’m not there.”

Getting back to the Base wasn’t the problem, it was the damn reports coming in that would wring his neck before he could get out the door. But he’d push it off for however long he could; call in favors from Laswell to get him more time with his little girl so he can fix his mistake. As a dad, the only thing that counted was seeing his daughter after a seemingly unending Op that he didn’t want to relive. The hardest part wasn’t the blood or the guts – it was being away from you. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was the one on the ground gritting his teeth at the bite of a bullet.

“Scout’s honor, Old Man.” The happiness in your voice makes him smile to himself.

“Stop calling me that, Muppet.” John grumbles affectionately, rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you a call when back I’m in town, Sunshine. Make sure the door’s locked–”

“--Locked, the windows too, plus, if someone knocks on the door I need to look through the peephole and if I don’t recognize them don’t open it…Am I missing anything?”

“Mind yourself, now you’re just being cheeky, you are.” John teases, scoffing, but proud that you remembered his rules. It made all of this just a bit more manageable.

“Who do you think I got it from?” You laugh, but it tapers off sullenly, “Just…get home safe, okay, Dad?”

John’s beard pulls back into a soft close-lipped grin, eyes crinkling as his heart warms. He so desperately wanted to ruffle your hair.

“Of course, Hun. But, eh, take a nap. It’s still early, and I know you’ve got schoolwork to do later. You sound like you’re about to keel over where you stand.” You scoff before agreeing with a muttered grumble, most likely already stumbling to the living room couch, and then the line goes silent and is replaced once more by the whirring of the helicopter blades.

The man peels back the phone and pockets it, hand unconsciously brushing his breast pouch where a picture of the two of you always sits. It was a baby picture, with your little form held in his grip delicately; looking down at you with soft eyes and an easy smile on his lips that always formed when he was with you. From under a soft blanket, your tiny hand reaches out to try and brush his stubbily cheek.

It never failed to bring him ease when he realized the photo was there. A reminder that if everything else in his life went horribly wrong, you would still be looking up at him with those eyes of yours. At the very least, he had managed to do one thing right.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a good kid.” Gaz calls at him, and John spares him a glance out of the side of his eye with a raised brow.

“I know she is. I’m the one who raised her.”

—

You remember eating a piece of toast before you made your way over to the couch, throwing your phone to the coffee table haphazardly before tossing yourself onto the cushions. Still in your pajamas, you can’t find it in you to go and grab the homework in your backpack this early. The sun had only just risen, and the bags under your eyes reminded you how late you stayed up last night.

But your father had never shown up.

Frantic was too light a word to describe the feeling you had when your eyelids had peeled back to the empty living room and the TV still playing. It had been second nature to snatch your phone and call the secure line – half of you had said it was better to call Laswell, just in case, but your adolescent brain had wanted nothing more than to hear your father’s voice.

He would make it better. But you needed to hear his voice.

Dad, you remembered pleading to yourself as the sound of the dial tone echoed in your ear, please answer the phone. Please. Answer the fucking phone.

Your heart was pounding; hands shaking. He never just didn’t show up when he said he was going to. Never. Your dad was punctual – always on time no matter what – and he had ingrained the same sentiment in you as well.

When his deep voice finally bounced in your eardrums you nearly started to cry, missing the first hurried and concern-filled inquiry of where you were. Hearing his voice put you at ease, and after a week of missing your father’s strong presence and his warm hugs, it was hard not to take a shaky inhale when he seemed so close.

You just wanted him home; you wanted him to make you pancakes and help you with your schoolwork. You wanted him to read a book to you on this couch like you were a toddler again while his old record player was on in the background.

It was childish, getting so worked up about it, but your dad meant the world to you. Not having him here felt wrong.

Sighing, you rub at your eyes and revel in the darkness before letting out a strained yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it over your body. It didn’t take long before your eyes were flickering shut, a calm quiet settling over the house as cars passed by outside in the street. You pull the blanket closer and breathe, inhaling pine needles and ash.

You don’t know how long you were there, twitching in your sleep before the scent woke you up – it makes your nose scrunch, eyelids blinking away fuzz. There was a pillow under your head, the blanket wrapped tight around your neck to keep out the London chill, and a clanking of pans in the kitchen. Scraping spatula over cast iron, you knew, the sizzling of batter.

The haze of that in-between state, sleep and consciousness fighting in the back of your skull and under your hairline, stays even as you try to force it away. It was like a wave – it constantly pulled you under when you thought you were getting to the surface. Your eyes would blink open and closed; comforted back into sleep by the deep humming, the waver of an old record player. Feet over hardwood and the smell of fresh pancakes.

Dad’s home.

A delirious smile slides over your sleep-hot face. That was why you were so content. This was what home sounded and smelled like.

Dad’s home. You repeat it once more, nuzzling farther into your father's travel pillow he brings to and from Base. Pine needles. Ash. Cigar smoke.

Dad’s home! Your eyes snap open wildly, your body shooting up from the cushions as the blanket falls to the floor. Angling your head to the separated kitchen, you swipe the drool from your mouth with a heavy hand and listen.

Your dreams had tricked you before, but no. Not this time.

He was humming along to some old tune under his breath that mirrored the record player behind the couch; the antique turned low so it wouldn’t wake you. Blinking in shock, your mouth morphs into a rich smile instantaneously.

Throwing yourself off the couch, your feet slam to the floor, rushing and almost tripping over the blanket on the floor as your body slants forward. Giggling, you push on, righting yourself with no second thought other than welcoming your dad home the same as you always did. Zipping around the corner, a shadow is already turning your way, a plate of pancakes ready to be put on the table and devoured.

“Dad!” You yell loudly and launch yourself at him, hearing his chest let out a grunt and his hands splay around you so he won’t drop breakfast food all over the floor.

A velvety chuckle is wrung from his body, and his free digits go to rest heavily on your head as you shove yourself into his hold. Gripping his shirt tight between your fingers, you try not to cry when that scent that had been fading from the house comes back tenfold. Your eyes burn, but you only let one tear out when your dad’s finger begins stroking your hair just like he did when you were little.

You had been so worried.

“There’s my girl,” His voice whispers out, “I’m here, Sunshine. Easy now.”

“I thought you died,” You can’t help the helpless gasp that rips from you. Your father’s hand freezes; body going rigid around your smaller, desperately grasping frame. The atmosphere of the room flips. Digging into the fabric of his shirt the full flood of tears finally comes forward. “W-when I woke up and you weren’t here I… I thought you were never coming back home, and that I would have to go and live with the neighbors and I’d have to bury you in the cemetery. I don’t-don’t wanna have to put you in the ground.” You’re rambling, but you can’t stop the words. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone.”

At some point, the plate of pancakes had been tossed to the counter without care for if the porcelain cracked from the force, and both of your father's arms hand scooped you into his hold effortlessly. Your breath was hiccuping violently, tears making his shirt wet and sticking to his skin.

But John didn’t care.

He wrapped his arms around you and curled his body in, taking you into a hold so warm and tight you couldn’t leave it even if you tried.

What’ve I done? The man feels his lips tense, blinking down at your shaking body with guilt as you sob. Oh, my Little Girl, I’m so sorry. What’ve I done to you?

Had he never noticed the toll that this job was taking on you? John asked himself this in disgust as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words into your hair under his shaky breath. He hated when you cried because of him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love, alright? Look at me.” You don’t move your bruising grip, face still held away from sight as you gasp down frantic breaths. John’s voice gets firmer, “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me, yeah?”

Your tight fingers stutter, and your head barely shifts to the side, one red eye peeking up as he looks down at you with all the love he can muster without looking incredibly broken. He never wanted to see you cry again but knew that would be an impossible feat to accomplish – but he’d do his damndest to try.

“There she is.” John’s hand goes to your cheek, brushing away the saltwater with a calloused thumb as you sniffle. “Just keep those eyes on me, Little One.”

“...M’ not little anymore.” You grumble out, your cheeks heating even as your pulse slows as you focus on your dad's eyes. So soft the edges were nearly liquid; water that held your attention as they lapped across your form.

“To me, you’ll always be little. Can’t change that I’m afraid.” The man grunts out, tilting his head down at you and letting his eyes travel from concern to comfort. But that doesn’t change the present.

“I’m so sorry, Love,” Your father mutters, eyes flickering away from yours in guilt so rarely shown to others. He always prided himself on being strong, you knew, bearing the brunt of the weight. Apologies weren’t often verbally said until it truly mattered. “I should have called you. That’s all on me, that is. Bloody stupid to forget about, knowin’ how you wait up for me.”

Your lips thin to mimic your dad's, brows pulling close. But in your chest, your heart couldn’t be larger. You didn’t hold it against him, but you wished he could be here more often; not put himself in dangerous situations. Knowing as little as you did about your dad's actual job, you still knew it wasn’t entirely safe.

Maybe the two of you protected each other from the things unseen.

Your chest aches.

“...You’re funny lookin’ when you have to apologize. Like a kicked bear.” Pulling back your lips, a tiny smile lighting your face, and you look up at your dad with a sniffle in your nose.

His visage snaps to yours, eyebrows going high on his head in surprise, and hooded blue eyes widening. It takes a moment, but a smirk pushes back his beard when he sees the tears have stopped falling.

“Yeah?” John asks you, a grumble reverberating in his chest, “Now, y’know, that is just bloody rude, Sunshine. Thought I raised you better…And after I made you pancakes.”

Laughing, you pull back, stomach rumbling and nose twitching at the prospect of the nearly forgotten food. Slithering past your father, you snatch the plate and fork before rushing into the living room. Jumping on the couch you begin to cut into the carbs, piling pieces into your mouth and smiling at the taste. No one else could make them as your dad could.

The Brit comes not seconds later, a cup of tea held in his hand before he sits down next to you with a groan, stretching out and laying his socked feet on the coffee table next to your tossed phone from hours earlier. You giggle, suddenly leaning to his large frame and hearing him grunt in retaliation.

“Tell me a funny story,” You demand, listening to him sip his drink in the mid-morning glow that spreads outside the house and leaks in through the opened curtains. Birds sing outside, heard from the street.

Your dad hums, his beard tickling your scalp as he leans into you in turn, making you chuckle before he nuzzles against you kissing your head; leading to a larger exclamation of glee before you elbow his gut.

He laughs and answers with a smile in his voice.

“Hm, did I tell you ‘bout the time Gaz fell out of the Heli?”

You laugh, eating the rest of the pancake remnants; feeling incredibly happy and warm. There were many memories you loved of your dad and his recounting of stories fit many of them. He always kept out the gory bits – promising himself that he would never lead you down that path no matter what – and always opted for the many downright hilarious situations the rest of the 141 always seemed to get into.

“Yes, but tell me again. It’s funny, especially when you describe his face afterward! Like he–”

“Like he had shit his pants and didn’t want to tell me,” John chuckles, eyes squinted, looking down at you as you snuggle into his side. He wraps an arm over your shoulders, taking your empty plate with one hand and putting it on the side table before pulling you close and making sure his tea won’t spill. He feels your tiny, bird-like, heartbeat on his ribcage and knows that nothing could ever take you away from him. You would always be his little girl. “Yeah, Love, I remember that one. Now, let me start from the beginning…”

TAGLIST SIGN-UP || Here

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @jaimiespn

2K notes · View notes

alexfromjersey · 1 year ago

Text

𝓝𝓨𝓒 & 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓵𝔂𝔀𝓸𝓸𝓭

jenna ortega x g!poc

summary: nine months ago, your best friend Davis took you to an afterparty for a movie premiere. nine months ago, you hooked up with Hollywood's newest "IT" girl...

warnings: semi-famous!reader, smut, mature language

a/n: honestly I just started writing whatever came to mind. so enjoy 👍🏾. Never in my whole fanfiction writing time have I written 5.1K words...NEVER! Also, the stuff Jenna does here does not reflect her actual character, this is just fiction and is for fanfic entertainment purposes.

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

MARCH 2023

"Back the fuck up, move the fuck back, back the fuck up, move the fuck back” Your best friend, Davis shouted the lyrics at the top of his lungs. You were sitting next to him recording him for your YouTube channel trying to contain your laughter.

The two of you were on your way to the red carpet premiere of a new movie Davis was in, Scream 6. Usually, you tend to stay away from red-carpet premieres because it ain’t your thing but you wanted to support Davis. The two of you have been friends since the 1st grade. Through thick and thin, you’ve been through it all with each other.

He begged you to come with him to the red carpet, at first you declined but then he used puppy dog eyes and told you a vlog of the event will get you views. You caved in. He offered to get you a stylist and everything but you declined. You wanted to do it yourself and you don’t think you did that bad.

( ^ your outfit )

“Don’t come to Bronx with that shit ‘cause we ain’t fuckin’ with that shit” Davis shouted into the camera just as the video stopped recording. You looked up and saw the driver kept glancing at y’all in the rearview mirror with a scowl on his face.

I guess you were to ghetto for him…ANYWAY.

Soon y’all pulled up to the place and immediately was hit with bright camera flashes and semi-screaming fans. Security got out first then Davis, then you, and then his manager Jerry. They led y'all to the carpet where fans were behind a barrier. You stayed next to Jerry while Davis went to take pictures with the fans.

“Damn these lights bright as fuck” You mumbled under your breath. You took out a pair of sunglasses you stole from Davis’ closet and put them on to shade your eyes from the light.

A few minutes later, Davis had to take pictures down the red carpet and do some interviews. But he motioned you over to come take pictures with him. Y’all did different poses, some serious and some funny. He also dragged you to an interview with The Hollywood Reporter.

“Davis, congratulations on your first-ever major movie role. I have to ask, how did it feel being in a movie and with a cast like that?” The interviewer asked.

“It was such a blessing. I’m so blessed to have been around talented people like them. I learned so much from them and being in the movie was such a privilege and amazing learning experience” Davis flawlessly answered.

That media training coming in handy.

“Now I can’t help but notice the guest you brought. They look fly, who is that?” The interviewer asked.

Davis placed his arm around you and pulled you in next to him. “This is my best friend since 1st grade, Jahaziel. I’ve brought her here today so she can get out of the house and step into my world for a little. She even dressed herself.”

You took a step back and did a little pose but when you took a step back, you bumped into someone. You quickly turned around to see a slightly familiar face. You only see her on the poster for the movie. You think her name started with a G or J?

“My fault” You apologized.

“Jenna!” Davis shouted and hugged his co-star who returned his hug but she kept glancing at you.

“Jenna, this is my best friend Jahaziel. Jah this is Jenna” Davis introduced the two of you.

“How you doing” You greeted her and shook her hand.

“Hi, nice to meet you” Jenna replied politely.

Suddenly, Davis and Jenna had to take group pictures with the rest of the cast. Which meant you were stuck next to Jerry again at the other end waiting for Davis.

While you were waiting though, you took pictures and videos yourself of the cast for Davis on his phone and for the vlog on your camera. But as you were doing it, you kept catching Jenna glancing at you. At first, you thought she was looking for someone or something behind you so you moved out of the way out of respect. But that theory went out the window when her eyes followed you to your new spot.

It was time for everyone to head inside for the premiere. Jerry guided you to where you’ll be sitting and handed you a menu.

“Oh, you get five stars meals too? I might have to come to more premieres with him” You said to the camera with a wink. You picked something simple and waited for Davis.

While waiting, you decided to go over the footage you gathered already to give yourself an idea of how you gonna edit it.

“Let me guess, you’re a YouTuber?” A voice in front of you said. You looked up from your camera and saw Jenna standing there.

"I guess you could call me that. I’ve just recently started doing videos. I stream on Twitch a lot though" You answered.

"Twitch? Oh that live stream platform. My younger brother likes to watch that stuff. He watches that Kay Seenat or something, do you do the same things he does?" Jenna asked intrigued.

“Kay Seenat is crazy" You laughed.

“Oh my god, did I say it wrong? I’m so sorry” Jenna gasped.

You chuckled, “Nah you good but it’s Kai Cenat for future references and I sort of do the same thing. I mostly play games like Call of Duty, Fortnite, and horror games.”

Jenna hummed in response before sitting down next to you.

“Where are you from? I detect an accent" Jenna asked.

"Bronx-born and raised baby" You smirked at her. Jenna also smiled at you but before she could reply, her manager came up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. They spoke in a whisper and Jenna turned towards you with a slight frown on her.

"I have to go but I'll see you at the Afterparty right?" Jenna asked, hopeful.

"Nah yeah fo'sho, I'll see you there Hollywood" You nodded. A blush formed on Jenna's cheeks at the nickname as she got up from her seat and followed her manager. You may or may not stare at her backside while she walked away...respectfully though.

"Not you acting thirsty for my co-star" Davis plopped down in the seat Jenna was in.

"What? I ain't acting thirsty, you buggin'" You sucked your teeth and leaned back in the chair.

"Lying is sinful. I saw those eyes. That's not a path you want to go down B, I'm telling you" Davis said.

"What you mean? She got a stalker boyfriend or some shit?" You questioned. Your food was then placed down in front of you.

"Nah, Jenna is the good girl in Hollywood, despite the movies she's been in. Plus, her fans are mad crazy, her team is mad strict, and you don't exactly fit their expectations of someone she would mess with" Davis shrugged and stole some food off your plate. You hummed in response before looking at your food.

"Yo, why they give me prison portions?"

🤰🏻🩵

It was now time for the Afterparty. The food was shit at the premiere, it had no flavor, looked pale as hell, and the portion was small as hell. Mad was an understatement of how you felt.

"I still had to pay for that shit like are you fucking kidding me? I wanted to smack the shit out of the waiter but he ain’t do nothing wrong” You grumbled while spraying some cologne on your neck and wrists.

“No one ever orders the food at the premieres because 9/10 shit sucks” Davis chuckled.

“Yo fat ass could’ve told me that BEFORE I ordered it” You rolled your eyes.

“At least someone ate it, technically your money didn’t go to waste” Davis shrugged and grabbed his phone and wallet.

“Yeah, you right…I want my $72.65 back WITH interest” You said and held out your hand towards him.

“How about I pay you back in coochie? The number of women that’s gon be at this after party…man somebody is leaving that party pregnant” Davis smirked.

“Pregnant? Lord help us all if either one of us becomes parents” You joked. Davis laughed and the two of you exited the hotel.

( ^ your after-party outfit )

The two of you quickly arrived at the lounge because it was a 10-minute walk from the hotel. It was a decent amount of people there and the music…was horrid but what you expect from a Manhattan lounge party.

You and Davis ordered some drinks and smoked some hookah before Davis went off to mingle with some girls. You, however, stayed in the booth and continued smoking hookah and scrolling through Instagram.

“Excuse me, mind if we sit here?” A voice said. You looked up from your phone and saw Davis’ other co-star Mason and a beautiful girl next to him.

“Go for it” You replied and scooted over a bit to make room for them.

“You look familiar…do you stream on Twitch?” Mason asked.

“Yeah, I do. I just started making mini vlogs of the Bronx” You answered.

“I knew it! I saw a few clips of you on TikTok. You’re hilarious. You did something for another YouTube channel…TalkNYC or something like that” Mason questioned.

“SideTalkNYC. No lie you watch that shit?” You asked with a smile.

“Honestly, I saw your clip and I just fell down a rabbit hole” Mason laughed.

You laughed with him.

Mason then looked to his girl who was paying no mind respectfully, “I’m sorry, how rude of me. This is my girlfriend Amenah” he introduced.

“Nice to meet you Amenah, I’m Jahaziel” You politely responded and waved at her.

“Jahaziel. That’s a strong name” Mason complimented.

“It’s Dominican. My dad is from Punta Cana and my mom is from Jamaica. Got Caribbean blood all through me” You smiled.

“Me too. But my great-grandfather was from Barbados” Mason responded.

“Nice. I got a brother living there” You replied.

“Sweet. Maybe your brother can hook us up with a trip there” Mason said.

“Oh, he’ll love that. He love showing people around the island” You nodded and took another hit of the hookah.

The two started to converse more and his girl even joined in a conversation. The three exchanged socials and the couple left to go dance. Davis didn’t return to the table because he was too busy rizzing up a nice-looking woman in the corner.

You were hungry. You needed food. Now.

You shot a quick text to Davis about heading out to get some food. He replied with a thumbs up. You head out of the lounge and start to make your way down the street. But a soft voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you going?” Jenna asked.

You smiled when you saw her, “Gon’ get some food. I’m starving. That food at the premiere was trash. Y’all gotta step y’all game up.”

“Do we? I’ll be sure to let the event planners know next time” Jenna smirked.

“Bet” You smiled.

You contemplated asking her to join you in your adventure. But you quickly gather up the courage to ask.

“Do you wanna join me?”

“Mind if I tag along?”

You both asked at the same time. The both of you laughed at the interaction.

“Come on, I know a good spot around here,” You said. She starts to walk but stops when she sees that you weren’t walking either.

“What happened?” She asked.

“You should tell your people where you going. I don’t feel like going to jail on kidnapping charges” You replied.

She chuckled but you were dead serious. She told her friends and manager where she was going. They insist on her bringing her security guard which you understood and had no problem with.

“How you doing? I’m Jahaziel, you can call me Jah if you want” You introduced yourself to the security guard. He shook your hand and told you his name, Big L.

The three of you started the adventure to the restaurant which was about a couple blocks away. You took Jenna to a little Mexican restaurant that sold some banging ass food.

You got a table and Big L decided to sit at a table beside the two of you to give you some privacy.

“I recommend getting their grilled veggie enchiladas. The enchiladas here are fire” You said while looking at the menu.

“You know I’m vegan?” Jenna questioned, impressed.

“Yeah…I may have looked you up while I was at the lounge. All I know is that you’re vegan and you’re from Cali. Which makes a lot of sense” You laughed.

Jenna laughed, “Yeah it does.”

You go back to looking at the menu while Jenna just stared at you. She was taking in your features. The way your hair was into a short curly afro, the way your glasses sat on your face enhanced your beauty. The way you occasionally licked your lips while zeroed in on something. She even noticed the tattoos under your hoodie. Her thoughts quickly turned into sinful thoughts and she had to tear her eyes away from you before she did something she regret.

Thankfully, the waiter came and took our orders for everything.

“So, Ms. Hollywood, tell me something I can’t find on Google,” You asked.

“Pretty hard question. My entire life is on Google truly.” Jenna said with a hint of sadness.

“Hmm…ion believe that. I believe that you want the world to think that they know everything about you but there are some things you keep to yourself” You replied.

Jenna smirked, “You think I’ll just willingly tell you right now? We barely know each other.”

“Duh, that’s why we’re having a conversation to get to know each other” You stated.

“Touchè” Jenna nodded.

You still can sense her hesitation so you decided to go first.

“I used to be in the military” You blurted out.

“Wait what? Seriously?” Jenna questioned.

“Yeah, I enlisted in the Marines right out of high school. I didn’t know what to do with myself. The options I had was garbage. I didn’t want to go college, I didn’t want to get a regular 9-5, and I just came from the streets I ain’t wanna end up back there. So the military was a decent option. Good benefits, the pay was good, and I was occupied” You explained.

"What made you get into Twitch?" Jenna asked.

"Well I started off with music but it quickly went nowhere so I turned to doing little comedy skits on Instagram. That gradually got me some followers then I was scrolling through Twitch one day and I stumbled upon this Twitch streamer who was making mad money off of gaming. I was like I can make bands off of just playing games say less. I got myself a PC and PS5 and I started grinding out streams but they weren't hitting like I thought they would. So I got discouraged and I went back into the military for another year, said fuck this shit, got honorable discharged, and went back to streaming." You explained.

The whole time you were talking, Jenna was engaged the entire time. She realized how much she loved how you explained things and told a story. It was entertaining as hell but also interesting.

“Wow” Was all Jenna could say. It wasn’t a bad wow either and you picked up on that. But you wanted to tease her a bit.

“Bad or good wow?” You teased.

“Good wow. Your story is inspiring. I have to watch your content now” Jenna smiled.

“Thank you I appreciate it” You replied.

The waiter brought your drinks and appetizers which you both devoured.

“Oh my god, that was so good. Best food I’ve had in a long time. I don’t think I even have room for my entrée” Jenna commented.

You chuckled, “We can always take it with us.”

Out of the blue, both of you hear a loud gasp. “Oh my god, it’s Jenna Ortega. Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you but can I get a picture real fast?” The fan asked excitedly.

You see her guard instantly go up around the fan. She glanced at you with apologetic eyes before standing up and taking a quick picture with the fan. The fan bid her goodbyes and ran off smiling hard.

“You okay?” You asked.

“Huh?” Jenna absentmindedly said.

“You okay? I saw how tense you got when she came up to you” You pointed out.

“Oh…yeah I’m fine just caught me off guard” Jenna lightly chuckled.

You saw it was a sensitive topic so you didn’t push further out of respect. The food came next and you saw how Jenna was a completely different person now. She was a lot more quiet and not flirtatious like before. The rest of the meal was only one-sided small talk. You got to go containers and paid for the meal even though Jenna insisted on paying.

You wanted to take her mind off whatever it was so you decided to bring her to the roof of a building that looked onto the Manhattan Bridge.

You both sat on the ledge, taking in the view.

“Um…are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you but I just want to let you know that I’m a good listener if you wanted to like vent” You comforted her.

“Thanks…” She muttered quietly.

You nodded in response and looked back at the view.

“I felt…normal again. I felt like a normal human being again with you back at the restaurant. I haven’t felt like that lately especially, since the success of Wednesday, my new show, and Scream. Then a fan came up and reality snuck back in. I’m not even upset at the fan because she doesn’t know what I’m going through and it’s not her fault but I just wanted to cherish that feeling a little more” Jenna explained.

“I get it. I seen how hard the fame life can be. I saw it through Davis at one point. That shit can break you in ways that you didn’t know it could. I don’t wish it on my worse enemy” You empathized.

Jenna scooted closer to you and laid her head on your shoulder. You made the bold decision to interlock your fingers with hers.

“Even though we literally just met earlier this evening. I feel comfortable with you like we’ve known each other for years” Jenna said.

“Well, you can keep getting to know me more. You a cool girl Hollywood” You smirked.

Jenna rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. Before she looked up at you, her brown eyes piercing into your hazel ones. Neither acknowledges how your getting closer until the gap between you disappears and lips interlock. At first, the kiss started slow before Jenna placed her left hand on your neck and pulled you closer to deepen the kiss.

The kiss started to heat up rapidly, tongues were now involved and Jenna gripped your neck hairs tightly. Her body heated up at the intense make-out session.

Jenna pulled away, “My hotel is not that far from here.”

You nodded and the two of you rushed off the roof in a hurry to get to her hotel. You got a cab and the ride was only 10 minutes but it felt like forever. Neither of you wanted to touch each other inappropriately out of respect for everyone else. But the cab stopped in front of the hotel and the two of you quickly got out and ran inside. Big L was stuck with our food, unfortunately.

The two of you got in the elevator and once the doors closed. Jenna pounced on you, her lips locked onto yours feverishly. You pushed her up against the elevator wall. Your hands were on her waist, gripping her hips while her hands were on the back of your neck gripping the hair.

Your lips then made their way down to her neck. Nipping and sucking on the flesh until you found the sweet spot under her jaw. A low moan escaped her lips and it egged you to continue but the elevator doors dinged. The two of you pulled away quickly in case there were people but luckily there wasn’t. So you exited onto her floor and sped walk to her room. Your lips were together again before the door fully closed.

Jenna dropped her phone and the hotel key onto the floor. You pulled off your flannel shirt and hoodie and threw it somewhere. Jenna kicked off her shoes and so did you. You then hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around your hips.

You blindly led the two of you to the bed and laid Jenna on it. You sat up quickly and peeled off your white T-shirt showcasing the many tattoos on your body. You trailed kisses down her body, from her lips to her jaw, to her neck, and to the top of her breasts. A quiet whine escaped her lips while she worked to her top off.

Suddenly, she flipped the two of you over. She was now straddling your waist. The pressure of her body was now your crotch which was painfully restricted due to your jeans.

“Shit” You mumbled as she finally got her top off to reveal her perfect breasts. Instantly, you sat up and took one in your mouth. You started to suck softly as your tongue ran across her nipple. She twitched from the pleasure and you internally patted yourself on the back.

You flipped the two of you over again. You gave attention to the other breast while also unbuttoning her pants. The noises she was letting out were making your jeans tighter than ever. You kiss down her stomach while pushing her pants down her legs. You threw her pants behind you and kissed her bikini line.

“Take it off” She whined impatiently. You chuckled before she pulled off her underwear leaving completely nude to you.

You admired her body for a hot second before you settled in between her thighs. You were on your knees and you pulled her to the edge of the bed. You kissed both her inner thighs, teasing her a little more before you dove right in for the prize.

A loud gasp left her mouth and she slightly arched her back. Her hands quickly found their place tangled in your hair and the sheets. You licked up her slit slowly before wrapping your lips around her clit. You swiped your tongue over it a couple of times before sucking.

Damn, she tastes good.

“Oh, my god…” Jenna moaned, her grip on your head tightening. Her thighs also tightened around your head keeping you in place. You moved down and inserted your tongue into her hole. Your tongue was long and it brushed against certain spots pleasurable inside her.

Her breathing was starting to pick up and her moans increasing in volume. Knowing that hotel room walls are paper thin, you reached up and placed your hand over her mouth. Her right hand gripped your forearm, her nails were making indents in your skin.

You felt her tighten around your tongue before she arched her back high. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head while she orgasmed hard. Her screams of intense pleasure are muffled by your hand. Her body shook as she let go and wave off juices that splashed against your mouth and dripped down your chin. You lapped up as much as you could.

Even though she orgasmed, you continued your assault on her golden area. She hissed and pushed your head from her area, feeling overstimulated. You sat on your knees in front of her with a drenched mouth and chin. You kissed up her body once more before you collided your lips together.

She moaned into your mouth as she can taste herself on your tongue. She grabbed your chain around your neck and pulled you even closer. You used one hand to reach down and unbuckle your belt, throwing it somewhere. You undid the button and pushed your pants off.

Jenna pulled away from your lips and pushed your black boxer briefs off your hips. You watched as she gathered some saliva in her hand before wrapping her fingers around your length. All while never losing eye contact with you.

She’s a super freak, super freak, she’s super freaky…

You groaned as she started rubbing your length sensually. Her thumb brushed over your tip and precum leaked out, giving her extra lubricant. She started pumping you faster. You didn’t want to finish just yet so you grabbed her arms and placed them above her head. You took off the rest of your underwear and positioned yourself. You were leaning on your knuckles that were by her hips and you lined yourself up at her entrance.

Slowly, you pushed in. Her legs automatically wrapped around your waist.

“Mierda nena (Shit baby girl)” You moaned as you watched yourself disappeared inside her. At the sound of you speaking Spanish, you felt her slightly clench around you.

More Spanish speaking it is then.

Once you were fully inside, you paused for a second to let her get used to your size. After a moment, you started with some slow strokes.

“Faster…” She moaned out.

Obeying her request, you started to speed up. You found a suitable rhythm for both of you. It felt so good, you’ve been with your fair share of women but nothing compares to right now. You leaned down on your elbows close to her ear. Her fingernails scratched down your back and the heels of her feet digged into your cheeks.

Her moans and heavy panting were going straight through your ears and sending chills down your spine.

“Te sientes tan bien apretado a mi alrededor (You feel so good clenched around me)” You whispered into her ear. The low tone you spoke in brought out your accent more and it sent vibrations throughout her body straight to her core.

Even though she didn’t know what you said, it still turned her on massively.

You buried your face into her neck as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. But suddenly, you were pushed away and flipped onto your back. Jenna was on top of you again but this time she had a new game plan in mind.

You slipped out of her while in the process of being flipped on your back. You watched as she undid her ponytail and let her hair flow, which was the sexiest thing ever. She then reached down and positioned herself over you before slowly sinking down.

“Oh my god…fuck” She moaned. She placed her hand on your lower stomach and began to ride you expertly.

You cursed out in pleasure and threw your head back against the pillows. Jenna grabbed your hands and interlocked your fingers for a minute before she placed them on her breasts. You massaged them rolling her hardened nipples in between your fingers.

“Te ves bien encima de mí (You look so good on top of me)” You licked your lips before pulling her down to you. You connected your lips with hers while bending her legs to get stable and wrapping an arm around her waist. You then started plowing into her.

The sound of slapping skin echoed through the room along with Jenna’s heavy breathing. The knot in your stomach got tighter and she clenched around you, letting you know that you were both close.

More profanities spilled out of Jenna’s mouth and her nails dug into your shoulders. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she stilled in your arms. You heard her suck in a breath and her nails dug deeper into your skin. She was cumming hard. Her body started convulsing. You felt the hot liquid around your stick and that sent you over the edge.

The knot in your stomach finally exploded. A deep groan left your body as you felt your member twitch inside of Jenna as you emptied out into her. Your hands gripped her hips aggressively until you felt you had nothing else left.

Jenna fell against you, completely exhausted but highly satisfied. The sweat made her baby hairs stick to her glistening forehead.

“God damn girl, I ain’t know you were like that” You complimented while trying to catch your breath.

Jenna laughed and slowly lifted herself off you and plopped next to you. She was exhausted, the recent activity draining her completely. The two of you were still catching your breaths before a phone ringing interrupted your blissful silence.

Neither of you acknowledged the phone, too tired to move. But whoever was calling, called again and the ringing was starting to get on your nerves. You got up and found whose phone it was. It was Jenna’s, you tossed it to her before you went into the bathroom and emptied out your bladder.

You cleaned yourself properly and headed out back into the room.

“Yeah, I’m back in my room…I know…okay bye” Jenna finished the conversation on the phone. She groaned and rubbed her hands down her face.

“You good?” You asked.

“Yeah…my friends are heading back here right now. I wanted you to stay and cuddle” She pouted.

You chuckled and started putting your clothes on, “You can always fly me out Hollywood. I never had a woman fly me out before.”

Jenna smiled and rolled her eyes playfully, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You grabbed her open phone and she watched as you as you entered your number in her contacts.

“Text me whenever you’re back in The City” You smirked at her.

“I definitely will” She blushed. You went to put your flannel shirt on but she stopped you.

“Wait…I hope this isn’t weird but can I have that?” She shyly asked while pointing to your flannel shirt.

You shrugged and handed it to her. She stood up, with shaking legs which you noticed.

“Shut up” She mumbled. Jenna placed the flannel shirt over her naked body. It was hella big on her. You stood at 6’1 so the flannel was down to her knees. She looked sexy.

“I don’t want you to leave” She whined and wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Oh no I got you dickmitized. I gotta make my escape ASAP” You joked. You heard her suck her teeth and slap your arm. You bend down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. This kiss was slow and full of unacknowledged passion. You hate to admit it but you felt butterflies in your stomach and so did Jenna but neither of you addressed it.

“If you don’t leave now, I don’t think I can fully restrain myself to throw you on this bed again” Jenna whispered against your lips.

You laughed, “Ight Imma go.” You stole another kiss before leaving the hotel room.

“Best work trip ever” Jenna smirked.

Meanwhile, you make it to the elevator doors. They opened and three girls stepped out. But they were staring at you as they knew you. Now usually, you would’ve said something about the staring but you were too tired so you just ignored them and stepped onto the elevator.

“White people…” You mumbled and shook your head.

#jenna ortega x reader #g!p reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x oc #Spotify #nycxhollywood

519 notes · View notes

kyojurismo · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, I don’t know if I am doing it right. This is an emergency request. I have had the worst week ever at university and, since I live alone, I have no one really waiting for me when I come back. I have stumbled on your acc yesterday and I was wondering if you can write some headcanons about “comfort sex” with Douma, Muzan and Akaza when the reader comes home from a bad day at work/university. Female reader, if it’s not too much to ask for!💕

Thank you so much!

▸ ANSWERING. k now i feel both bad and stupid bc apparently i just imagined to write some reqs, idk man. anyway, here we are. hope you’ll enjoy it <3

▸ FANDOM. kimetsu no yaiba

▸ CHARACTERS. muzan kibutsuji, douma (upper rank two) & akaza (upper rank three) x fem!reader

▸ RATING. nsfw

▸ WARNINGS. smut, vanilla sex, oral sex (f receiving), fluff, praising, um they’re human i guess? it’s up to you yeah, not proofread

MUZAN KIBUTSUJI

muzan sensed something was wrong

you were clearly stressed and the fact that you had a bad day was written all over your face

“come here, darling,” he patted his laps and you approached him, sitting down

he would kiss you so lovingly while caressing your tensed up body

he would lay you down on the couch, start undressing you and kiss all over your skin

he praised you, filling you with compliments while he reminded you to ignore whoever made you feel bad

“you’re smart, everything will work out the way you desire.”

his thrusts were gentle and slow

the pleasure overshadowed everything, making you forget about your bad day

muzan was here to make love to you, keep it in mind

his big hands caressed your shoulders and your hips

he teasingly pinched your nipples, because he knew that it makes you laugh sometimes

when you two are finished he would keep you close to his body, secured into his warm embrace

“i love you, darling.”

DOUMA

douma saw you were upset and simply decided that all you needed was a good fuck and some food

okay no, let’s slow thing down

he would take you to your bedroom

undress you

kiss all over your pretty face

then would let you lie down on the bed

and boom, he’s between your legs

douma was born to satisfy you (he thinks so)

he probably ate you out for a couple of hours

your thighs always ended up squeezing his head

his nose bumped into your clit while he used his tongue on you

his thick fingers thrusting and curling into your warm channel, wet sounds filling the room

his reward? your moans and whines

when he finally decided to leave your poor pussy alone, who’s now all puffy and wet, most of his face is wet with your juices

there was a smirk on his face while he looked down at your trembling body

then he ordered your favourite food and ate it in bed with you, cuddling and chatting about random stuff (:

AKAZA

this man is straight up from heaven

because as soon as you enter your house he’s there to welcome you, kiss you passionately and show you what he prepared for you

when it still wasn’t enough to cheer you up, he decided to take you to bed

he took his time with you

his lips probably kissed every inch of your skin

he payed special attention to your breasts, sucking and licking your hardening nipples, then your stomach and just after all that, his lips connected with your throbbing clit

his lips and fingers worked to make you cum

twice

then he freed his cock, pumped it a few times and sank into you

“you’re doing so good, sweetheart.”

“oh, fuck. you really needed that, huh?”

he’s so lovely and gentle 😭

his thrusts are slow but hard, akaza knows how to make you see stars

and your moans and your grip on his shoulders are the confirmation

you arched your back before cumming a third time

akaza came soon after, you could feel the spurts of white coating your walls while his cock twitched

cuddles because you deserved to be treated like a princess <3

▸ BEFORE LEAVING. reblog and comments are super appreciated. i strangely don’t hate it??? lol, thank you for reading by the way !! <3

#📂 — writing !!#muzan kibutsuji x reader #douma x reader #akaza x reader #muzan kibutsuji smut #douma smut #akaza smut #kny muzan #kny douma #kny akaza #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

1K notes · View notes

just-dreaming-marvel · 3 months ago

Text

LEGACY ~ 12

LEGACY MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,240ish

Summary: Steve worries about you. Tony opens your files.

Warning(s): Talk of torture / abuse

Notes: We're going to continue to see major differences from my original character fic LEGACY. I hope you all are enjoying them!

Over the course of the next few weeks, you felt like Tony was pulling away from you more and more. He seemed to have a lot more Stark Industries meetings than normal and a lot less time for you. There were many times when you asked FRIDAY to get a hold of Tony or tell you where he was, and the AI refused. You also began to notice that security at the Tower and the new Avengers facility–mostly when it came to you–was getting more and more intense. This made you angry. You decided to channel your anger into school work, training, and your Stark Industries work. You started to spend half of your week at the Tower and the other half at the update facility. The Team members at the facility could tell that Tony was seemingly pushing you away, but none of them could get you or Tony to talk about it.

One night, you were up late in the facility kitchen, finishing up some classwork, when Steve walked in.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you responded, not looking up from your work.

“It’s a little late for homework, don’t you think?”

“And it’s a little late for you to be up, old man.”

“Ouch.” Steve leaned against the counter, watching you as you worked across the kitchen island. “Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re almost… manic. It seems like you’re constantly go, go, go. Always trying to keep busy.”

“I just have a lot to do.”

“You and I both know that’s not the reason. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Steve, I’m fine.” You didn’t see him reach across the kitchen island before he had pulled your classwork away from you. “Hey!”

“You can get it back once you start talking.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

After a short staring contest, you gave in. You explained how you lost the flash drive with your files on it. How you knew that you could reach out to Fury for them, but hadn’t convinced yourself to just yet. You then talked about how you felt like Tony was pulling away and how security seemed to be tightening around you.

“It’s beginning to worry me, Steve,” you admitted. “What if–” You cut yourself off, squeezing your eyes shut to try and stop the threatening tears.

“What if what, Y/N?” Steve asked after a few moments.

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore?” You whispered, voice cracking. “I mean, my real parents didn’t want me. So why would he?”

Steve moved quickly around the island, his hands going to your upper arms as you hung your head. “Y/N, don’t ever speak like that again, you hear me?” You met his gaze and all the seriousness that it held. “Of course Tony wants you. He loves you. You are his daughter, his favorite person. Tony just… well, he’s Tony. He struggles show that he cares.”

“He’s never had that problem with me…”

Steve sighed. “I’m sure that he’s going through something. I will try to reach out. I need you to promise me something though, Y/N… Promise me that if you ever start doubting if you are wanted again, you come to me. Immediately. No matter where I am, I’ll answer. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering a bit longer than they probably should have. “Now, let’s get you off to bed. And I expect you to sleep in, no early morning training for you.”

You nodded and slowly stood up. The exhaustion was finally hitting you. You took a few steps before stumbling and almost falling. Steve was quick to catch you, hoisting you up in his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, almost like a promise.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his chest as Steve carried you to your bedroom. He kindly tucked you into bed and kissed your cheek before leaving. You quickly fell asleep after.

~~~

Tony hadn’t slept in three days. He was reading over your files for the hundredth time. His eyes were skimming the pages, skipping from line to next random line, not able to focus.

1996

The fetus was injected with the serum mixture. Both the fetus and the host are showing no signs of symptoms.

The subject was born healthy. So far no signs of any abilities.

1997

Today the child manifested remarkable strength for being one year old. The child is now showing signs of super strength.

The child fell while trying to walk, resulting in a few bleeding scrapes. Before the child could be taken to medical, the scrapes had been healed. The child was then cut with a small blade to further test the occurrence. The child completely healed within minutes.

The host agent finally decided upon a name: Y/N.

1998

During today’s lesson, Y/N didn’t get her way. The instructor suddenly changed their mind as Y/N continued to fight. A new instructor was brought in with the same result.

Y/N was put through trials to test her mind control. During the trials, multiple instructors began feeling emotions that weren’t their’s. As the trials continued, instructor’s started to notice that other instructor’s emotions were being manipulated.

1999

Despite her age, Y/N has started daily education courses on math, science, technology, and languages. The languages that will be focused on first will be English, Russian, Spanish, Mandarin, and French. After full mastery of those languages, she will undergo instruction on other languages.

Y/N’s education will be closely monitored to ensure high standards and so that she will be able to seamlessly blend into any environment HYDRA may need her to.

We have begun to do regular studies on her brain. We are using any method available.

2000

The Winter Soldier was brought in to help instruct Y/N on weapons and fighting styles. The Asset has been instructed to not take it easy on Y/N. Her age does not matter.

2001

Y/N has begun to grow defiant. Y/N will begin to have her memories routinely wiped, like the Winter Soldier.

2005

Alexander Pierce came to inspect Y/N for the first time. She exhibited most of her abilities: strength, healing of the Winter Soldier, and mind control. She attacked Alexander Pierce. The Winter Soldier had to stop her. Pierce was impressed, ordering for her memories to be wiped and her training to increase.

2011

A female HYDRA agent has begun teaching Y/N the art of seduction.

Y/N’s art of seduction lessons went as planned for the first week.

Y/N has been fighting her instructors. As punishment, her memory will be wiped and she will be kept in the cage for a week.

Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, and SHIELD broke into the facility in which Y/N was being held. She was taken.

Y/N has been placed with a foster family in California. She will be closely monitored.

An agent disguised as a SHIELD social worker paid her a visit to her school. She claims to not remember anything before her rescue.

2012

Tony Stark has adopted Y/N.

2013

Y/N moved to New York City with Stark. She is living in the Avengers Tower. She is no longer attending public school, she is taking online classes.

A HYDRA agent on assignment as a SHIELD agent got a hold of Y/N’s SHIELD file. She does not remember her past.

Y/N has been regularly training. It is clear that her subconscious remembers some of the HYDRA training on fighting techniques.

Tony pulled his eyes away from his scattered reading. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the tears from coming. HYDRA was still watching your every move. And the things they did to you… Tony wanted to wipe every member of HYDRA off of the face of the planet. That was his goal.

Unknown to everyone else, Tony had been rerunning background checks on every person that worked for the Avengers Initiative and Stark Industries. He had fired every person that looked even remotely suspicious but couldn't find anyone that was actually HYDRA. Tony was even going out on secret missions, trying to finish off HYDRA loose ends. He knew that he should tell someone—tell you—about your files and what he had been doing, but he didn’t know who he could trust anymore. Including you.

Tony’s chest tightened, his breathing started to become laborious, and he began shaking.

“Shit,” Tony muttered. “Not now.”

“It seems like you are having a panic attack, sir,” FRIDAY stated.

“You—You th–think?”

“Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“Nnnn—nnnoooo…”

Tony believed that he could handle it. All of it.

~~~

“I’ll come with you. Maybe someone else needs to talk some sense into Tony.

“That’s what Pepper’s for, Steve,” you responded. The two of you were walking out toward where the quinjets were parked. “I’ll be fine. I’m only going to be gone for a few days, then I’ll be right back here.”

“Let me just fly you.”

“Steve, you taught me how to fly the quinjet, besides FRIDAY’s going to pilot the whole 30 minute flight because I want a nap before I need to work.”

“Y/N.” Steve got in front of your path and stopped.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ve got this. Okay?”

He waited a beat before responding. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you in a few days.” You walked past him and turned around to walk backwards. “If I remember correctly, there was some mention of a birthday party.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Your friend Sam doesn’t do well with surprises.”

“Clearly. Call me when you land.”

“Will do.”

You turned back around and headed for the quinjet. You got it off the ground, waving to Steve, before turning on autopilot. You honestly had mixed feelings about going back to the Tower. The Compound was feeling more like home than the Tower now. You knew that Tony would be okay if you moved into the Compound full time, but you didn’t want him to feel like you were abandoning him. And you didn’t know if you were ready to be away from your father for that much. Though, it did seem that Tony was okay with it since he was pushing you away.

You set up a cot in the back of the quinjet and curled up for a nap. You needed to sleep, especially if you were going to do what Pepper needed you to do and if you were going to run into Tony.

“Miss Stark, we’ve landed,” FRIDAY announced, waking you from your nap.

“Thanks, FRI,” you yawned, sitting up with a stretch. “Is, uh, is Dad home?”

“Mr. Stark is home and in his lab. I have already informed him of your arrival.”

“Great,” you muttered.

Grabbing your things, you took a deep breath before walking off the plane and heading inside. You leaned up against the wall of the elevator upon entry and watched the floor numbers move. You groaned when you realized you weren’t being taken to your floor.

“FRIDAY?”

“Sorry, Miss. The Boss told me to drop you off at his lab.”

You sighed. You were hoping that there was going to be a few hours before you ran into Tony. But if he wanted to see you, maybe something was going to change. You left your bags in the elevator and stepped out into Tony’s personal lab. Tony’s head spun towards the sound of my footsteps.

“Hey, kid!” He greeted you with a smile. You noted that his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not to mention, the dark circles that seemed to have grown since the last time you saw him.

“Hi, Dad,” you replied. You glanced at the holograms he was working on. It was a watch, in which he had a replica of it on his wrist. “What are you working on?”

“Some new nanotechnology.” He turned off the holotable and gave you his full attention.

You nodded. “Well, FRIDAY brought me here on your request. I’ve got a lot of things to do for Pepper so if we could hurry this along that would be great.”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. I feel like we haven’t seen too much of each other lately.”

“Well, that’s not exactly my fault now, is it?”

Tony was a bit taken back by your tone, but not by your words. He had been busy trying to protect you. “I admit I have been busy. But you have been spending more time at the new facility so it’s really both of our faults.”

“Are you serious?” Tony didn’t immediately respond. He looked away like he was nervous. “What are you hiding from me? Why are you hiding from me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything’s fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“We’ve both just been busy, kid.”

“Usually people aren’t too busy for their kids… You know what?” You shook your head. “Nevermind. I can’t do this right now. I really need to go to work.”

You turned around and headed for the elevator. You wished that your dad would call after you, to stop and talk about whatever was going on with him. But he never did, letting the elevator close between the two of you.

next chapter >

57 notes · View notes

elikajinnie · 11 months ago

Text

You Know You Should Not Have Survived That, Right? | Ghostface!Heeseung x fem!reader PART 1

PART 1 OF PART 4

Pairing: Ghostface!Heeseung x fem!reader

Warnings: Blood/injury. Violence, murder, panic attacks, stalking, obsessive behaviour/ possessive behavior.

Genre: Eventual romance, Horror/Thriller

Wordcount: 13k

Sum:

"Well, I'm not laughing," You said, your voice shaky as you moved through the house, checking every nook and cranny.

"I'm not laughing either, princess," he remarked, a term that sent a chill down your spine.

"Don't call me that," you snapped, feeling a growing sense of unease.

"Well, you never gave me your name," he said, his voice taking on a sinister edge.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

“Pretty girls covered in blood. As such, we were each in turn treated like something rare and exotic. A beautiful bird that spreads its bright wings only once a decade. Or that flower that stinks like rotting meat whenever it decides to bloom.”

You lounged on the luxurious, long white couch, surrounded by the opulence of the spacious living room. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room, its screen broadcasting the ominous news of a series of murders gripping the city. Intrigued, you set aside your magazine, your eyes fixed on the news anchor detailing the gruesome events.

As the reporter delved into the chilling details of the latest murder, your curiosity deepened. The atmosphere in the room seemed to thicken with tension as you absorbed the unsettling information. Just as you reached for the remote to increase the volume, your mother's departure interrupted the quietude.

"I'm leaving now. You be good and stay home, alright?" Your mother's voice echoed through the room as she fumbled through her purse. You assured your mother of your compliance, bidding her farewell and locking the door behind her.

Returning to the comfort of the couch, you crawled over the backrest, disregarding the conventional way around. The remote found its way back into your hands, and you switched through channels in search of something more captivating. Finding nothing of interest, you stood and strolled to the imposing shelf beside the TV, adorned with an array of movies and decorations.

Among the diverse collection, your hand settled on a horror movie: "Your Next." It promised a refreshing twist with a resourceful final girl, a detail that appealed to your taste. Ignoring the collateral damage of two neighboring DVDs collapsing, you retrieved the movie and inserted the disc into the TV slot.

Plopping back onto the couch, you pressed play, but the movie's ominous beginning prompted you to hit pause. Rising up you headed to the kitchen in pursuit of the perfect movie snack—popcorn. The cupboard held the desired item, but with your stature, reaching proved impossible. Unfazed, you fetched a little wooden stool, conquering the height disparity.

With the popcorn secured, you turned your attention to the microwave. Engrossed in the popping symphony, you momentarily forgot about the stool now awkwardly placed in your path. As you rounded the kitchen island, your phone's ring pierced the air, and your friend Yeji's name flashed on the screen.

Answering the call, you engaged in a conversation about the latest murder, Yeji's voice laden with concern. Popcorn still in hand, you dismissed Yeji's fears, attributing the killings to a random act of violence. Unbeknownst to you, a subtle unease settled in the air.

Returning to the kitchen, you fidgeted with the knives on the island, your gaze wandering as if searching for an unseen presence. A sudden feeling of being watched sent shivers down your spine. Instinctively, you closed the balcony doors, shutters, and curtains, dispelling the eerie sensation.

With the unsettling moment behind, you resumed your movie night preparations. You bid Yeji farewell as the microwave signaled the completion of your popcorn. Snacks in hand, you adjusted the living room's lighting to a dim, cozy ambiance, casting a warm glow over the elegant surroundings.

Sinking back into the couch, you kicked your feet up on the forbidden glass table, relishing the rebellious act in your mother's absence. You popped open an energy drink, took a sip, and draped a blanket over yourrself to ward off the slight chill. In your minimalistic attire of sweatpants and a tank top, you settled into the cocoon of comfort, ready for a night of horror and suspense.

The plush, velvety blanket cocooned you on the couch as you layed sprawled. The dim lighting accentuated the opulence of the living room, and the remnants of your movie night – an empty drink and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn – scattered around you. The film's climax was unfolding on the screen as the final girl realized the treacherous intentions of those around her. You, however, had succumbed to the captivating scenes, soft snores blending seamlessly with the movie's eerie soundtrack.

A faint buzzing noise pulled you back from the realm of dreams. You hummed, your eyes fluttering open as you surveyed the living room, the movie still playing out the tense chase scene. You yawned and stretched languidly, causing the blanket to slip off your shoulders. With a groan, you paused the movie, your gaze directed towards the empty drink can on the table. Realizing your phone was missing, you decided to investigate the source of the interruption.

In the kitchen, you retrieved your misplaced phone, its screen revealing an unknown caller. The call had ended before you could answer. Intrigued, you scrolled through your recent calls, curiosity piqued by the mysterious contact. Just as you was about to turn off your phone, the device lit up again, displaying "unknown caller."

Swiping to accept the call, you greeted the unknown voice with a simple, "Hello?"

"Hello, who is this?" The voice, smoky and melodic like honey, echoed through the phone.

"Well, who are you trying to reach?" You responded, settling back onto the couch.

"What number is this?" The voice continued, a hint of uncertainty in its tone.

"Well, what number are you trying to reach?" You countered, a playful smile touching your lips.

"I don't know," the voice admitted.

"Try the number again and see if you typed it correctly," You suggested, a playful smirk dancing on your face as you hung up. However, the persistent caller dialed again, and you felt a mix of annoyance and intrigue, answering once more.

"Hellooo?" You drawled out.

"I'm sorry; I guess I dialed the wrong number," the voice apologized.

"Then why did you dial it again?" You questioned.

"I just wanted to apologize," the man explained.

"Well, you are forgiven," You replied nonchalantly, popping a few more popcorn kernels into your mouth.

"Good to know," the man said. "Do you like scary movies?" he asked eventually, his voice oddly comforting.

You nodded, forgetting momentarily that the man couldn't see you. "Yes," you affirmed.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" he teased.

"Hmm," You tapped your chin in mock contemplation before answering. "American Psycho."

"Is that the one with Christian Bale?" the man inquired.

"Yeah," You confirmed.

"So, you got a boyfriend?" he continued, the conversation taking an unexpected turn.

"No," You huffed, the atmosphere shifting as the questions delved into personal territory.

"And why is that?" the man probed, his tone becoming more unsettling.

"Well, there isn't really anyone out there that has my attention," You replied, fidgeting with a loose thread on your pants.

"Really? Well, that's too bad," the man remarked, the conversation taking on a darker undertone.

"I knooow," You sighed, growing uneasy.

"What's your name?" he pressed further.

"Why do you want to know my name?" You questioned, sensing a growing discomfort in the exchange.

"Because I want to know who I am looking at," he said, sending a shiver down your spine.

"What did you say?" you asked, your voice tense.

"What did I say?" he feigned innocence.

"That's not funny," You replied, suddenly aware of your vulnerability. You began double-checking the security of your home, peeking through blinds and ensuring all doors were locked.

"Was it supposed to be?" he continued, the unsettling tone persisting.

"Well, I'm not laughing," You said, your voice shaky as you moved through the house, checking every nook and cranny.

"I'm not laughing either, princess," he remarked, a term that sent a chill down your spine.

"Don't call me that," you snapped, feeling a growing sense of unease.

"Well, you never gave me your name," he said, his voice taking on a sinister edge.

Your world seemed to freeze at the ominous tone. "I`m sorry, i have to go" you spat out, surveying your surroundings.

"Wait!" he urgently said.

Ignoring his plea, you hung up before swiftly ascended the stairs, your desire to secure your safety intensifying. You checked each locked door in your path, a heightened sense of urgency guiding your actions. When your phone rang again, you hesitated before answering.

"Hello?" you said, a tinge of anxiety in your voice.

"Why did you hang up? We were having a talk," the same voice echoed, sending shivers down your spine.

"Because the conversation was over on my end," you stated firmly.

"Hmm, harsh," he commented.

"Yeah, sure," you retorted, hanging up without further notice. You continued your security check, ensuring every door was securely locked. The phone continued to ring, but you silenced it, a growing sense of dread settling over you. The inability to block the unknown number only heightened your unease, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you was being watched, the shadows of your home concealing potential threats.

The unsettling tension gripped you as you navigated your home, checking each locked room, and securing your sanctuary against potential threats. The rhythmic ticking of the clock in the hallway mirrored the heavy beats of your anxious heart. You peeked into the bathroom, finding it locked, the silence within unnerving.

Advancing to your mother's bedroom, you discovered it similarly secured. The atmosphere grew thicker with each locked door, and your mind raced as you approached your own bedroom, finding it too impassable. The cold hallway seemed to close in on you, echoing your trepidation.

Your hesitant gaze fell to the phone you clutched in your hand, its screen illuminating with the persistent unknown caller.

At the fifth intrusive call, your patience snapped. Gritting your teeth, you accepted the call with a sharp, "What!?"

The man's threat reverberated through the line, his words laced with malice. "Listen here! If you hang up on me one more time, I will gut you like a fish! You hear me?!" his voice, now a raw growl, threatened violence.

"Oh yeah? Try me!" you retorted defiantly, hanging up once more. Determination flickered in your eyes as you steeled herself for whatever came next.

Just as you disconnected, a sudden, loud noise echoed from your mother's sewing room, freezing you in your tracks. Your phone, now silenced and nestled in your pocket, became an afterthought as your instincts screamed at you to tread carefully.

With deliberate steps, you tiptoed backward, avoiding the sewing room as if it held the secrets of your deepest fears. The muffled sounds behind the door only intensified your unease. You hesitated, your gaze darting around the hallway for any signs of intrusion.

Taking a calculated risk, you silently opened the nearest door, revealing your little brother's room. A wave of relief washed over you, grateful that he was away at a sleepover, shielded from the ominous events unfolding. With measured breaths, you surveyed the room, your eyes landing on a baseball bat tucked in a corner.

Your fingers closed around the familiar grip, and with resolute determination, you climbed into the closet. Leaving the shutters slightly ajar, you positioned yourself with a limited view outside. A hand pressed against your mouth, slowing your breaths as you braced for whatever loomed beyond your shelter.

The shadows played tricks in the dim light, and the palpable silence heightened your senses. Your mind raced with the possibility of an intruder in your home, the unsettling unknown leaving you shrouded in suspense. The baseball bat in your grasp became both a shield and a weapon, as you huddled in the closet, waiting, watching, and wondering about the source of the disturbance in your once-secure sanctuary.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you crouched in the closet, hidden behind boxes. The silence surrounding you was oppressive, punctuated only by the rhythmic cadence of your own heartbeat. The baseball bat felt strangely weightless in your grasp as you stayed huddled, each passing minute amplifying the weight of the unknown.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you noted the multiple missed calls from the mysterious man. The last futile attempt had been minutes ago, marking your solitary confinement within the closet for a staggering 15 minutes. The unnerving quiet had become a torment, a slow and relentless assailant on your sanity.

When the urge to escape finally beckoned, you hesitated. A distinct sound cut through the stillness — the bedroom door opening. Your pulse quickened, and you peeked out from the shutters, your eyes widening at the ominous figure that materialized. Towering, clad in a long black cloak with the hood obscuring any defining features, the intruder's presence exuded menace. Black combat boots and gloves, the latter gripping a gleaming hunting knife, completed the haunting ensemble. A white mask adorned the figure's face, an unsettling visage with a contorted expression that seemed to mock the gravity of the situation.

A cold shiver raced down your spine as the realization hit — this could be the killer responsible for the recent spree of murders. Was he truly after you?

You pressed a hand over your mouth, muffling your breaths, watching the masked assailant enter the room with predatory grace. His calculated steps conveyed a chilling confidence, the aura of a remorseless murderer.

You observed as the figure methodically searched the bedroom, scanning under the bed before approaching the closet. A curse echoed in your mind as the man neared your hiding place. With a mixture of fear and determination, you stood up and swung the baseball bat with all your might. A triumphant smile curled on your lips as the bat connected, eliciting a grunt of pain from the intruder who stumbled and fell to the ground.

Seizing the opportunity, you swiftly darted out of the bedroom and descended the stairs, your footsteps hurried but quiet. As you passed the living room, the horror movie still paused on the screen, another set of footsteps echoed behind you. The chase was on.

You raced around the kitchen island, leaping over the forgotten stool. Glancing back, you saw the masked figure closing the open cupboard door, only to trip over the stool, emitting a yelp and groan. It provided a brief respite for you to grab a knife from the table, your grip tightening around the handle.

The assailant rose, towering over you, his masked face betraying no emotions. Slowly, he circled the kitchen island, and you mirrored his movements, keeping a cautious distance. The gleaming hunting knife in his hand reflected danger, the blade promising pain.

"Stay away! Don't come any closer!" You shouted, but your warning fell on deaf ears. Suddenly, he lunged, grabbing your arm, the force causing you to drop the baseball bat. A sharp pain seared trough your arm as his knife sliced your forearm. A scream tore from your lips, and in desperation, you kicked the guy in the shin, gaining a momentary freedom.

With a quick slash, you retaliated, your knife finding its mark on the guy's arm and chest. A growl escaped the masked assailant as he twirled his knife, retaliating with slashes on your shoulder and arm. The pain intensified, and you cried in agony.

Undeterred, you sprinted into the living room, leaping over the backrest of the couch. Falling between the couch and the glass table, you grabbed a heavy ceramic decoration, regretting the inevitable damage to your mother's prized possession. With a forceful throw, the ornament hurtled towards the killer, shattering into a million pieces as he fell backward by the force of the throw.

"Shit!" You gasped as the guy uttered his first words. The voice was the same one from the phone, only in a clearer and younger tone now. A realization dawned on you– the killer was someone close to your age, likely another student. The revelation only intensified the horror of the situation as you braced yourself for the dangerous dance that continued to unfold in the dimly lit living room.

The living room became an arena of survival, the air heavy with tension as you and the hooded killer engaged in a deadly dance of cat and mouse. You clutched the kitchen knife tightly in your right hand, the blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. The masked assailant, armed with his hunting knife, circled you with predatory intent, the white mask revealing nothing of his emotions or identity, leaving you to wonder about the identity of the person beneath the facade.

Your eyes remained fixed on your adversary as you edged around the room, your movements cautious yet calculated. Every instinct screamed for you to stay on guard, to be ready for any sudden strike. The sound of your footsteps on the hardwood floor was drowned out by the echo of the silent confrontation.

The tension reached its peak when the hooded killer lunged forward, slashing his knife at you with swift precision. You deftly sidestepped the attack, the blade missing you by inches. Seizing the opportunity, you swung your own knife in a retaliatory strike, aiming for his side. The hooded figure skillfully evaded the blow, showcasing a deadly proficiency in the macabre dance.

You, fueled by a desperate determination to survive, utilized every inch of the living room to your advantage. You maneuvered around furniture, using the space to your benefit, constantly seeking openings to strike.

As the chase raged on, you spotted an opportunity. A discarded stool lay nearby. With a swift kick, you sent the stool sliding toward the hooded killer's feet, hoping to trip him up. The assailant stumbled, momentarily thrown off balance. It was your chance.

Your heart raced as you sprinted down to the basement, seeking refuge in the bunker your father had installed before his departure from the family. The cool metal door creaked open, and you rushed inside, pulling it shut behind your. The air in the bunker felt heavy with tension as you fumbled for your phone, your trembling fingers dialing the emergency number. You explained the chilling situation to the police dispatcher, your voice a mixture of fear and urgency.

As you waited on the line, the minutes stretched into an eternity. The cold silence of the bunker echoed the torment in your mind. Finally, you heard the distant knocking on the bunker door. The voice on the phone instructed you to open up, assuring you that it was a police officer. You cautiously checked the security camera feed on the bunker, confirming the presence of the officer. You ended the call, entered the code, and slowly opened the door.

"Hello, officer," You greeted, your voice strained. The female officer's eyes widened in shock as she took in your disheveled appearance. "Oh, you are in rough shape, young lady," she expressed, offering assistance. Together, you ascended the stairs to a scene of organized chaos – a swarm of police officers meticulously searching every inch of the house.

"He's not here. When we arrived, the house was empty. Looks like he ran when you went in the basement," the officer informed you, providing a small sense of relief. You nodded silently as you exited through the busted open door, a visual testament to the recent struggle of the police. The flashing lights of police cars painted the scene in red and blue hues.

Paramedics approached, tending to your wounds. Your attention, however, remained fixed on the commotion surrounding your home. Your mother's voice reached your ears as she ran towards you, worry etched across her face. "Y/n!" she exclaimed, embracing her daughter and checking you over. Your response was subdued, your thoughts still lingering on the harrowing encounter.

Kyungmin, your younger brother, approached with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, the innocence of his question contrasting sharply with the night's events. You gazed at him, exhausted and in pain as you shook your head. Kyungmin climbed onto the gurney beside you, and you pulled him into the safety of the blanket provided by the paramedics.

A familiar face interrupted the solemn moment – the news reporter from the TV. Microphone in hand, she approached, seeking an interview. Kyungmin, ever protective, spoke up on your behalf, sternly refusing the intrusion. A police officer intervened, guiding the persistent reporter away, sparing you from further distress.

As the news crew retreated, you closed your eyes, attempting to shut out the chaos around you. However, the haunting image of the hooded killer's mask flashed in your mind, a reminder that the scars of this night would linger in your nightmares. The weight of the encounter settled on your shoulders, leaving you to grapple with the trauma that now defined your reality.

The next morning, you awoke to the persistent beeping of the alarm clock, signaling the start of a day that you wished you could forget. As you sat up in the unfamiliar guest room at Yeji's house, you took a moment to absorb your surroundings. The room, while neatly arranged, felt foreign, lacking the familiarity of your own space.

Yeji and her family had generously offered shelter to you and your family after the horrifying visit from the hooded killer. The police had taken over your home for investigation, fearing the possibility of the assailant returning. You, plagued by nightmares, had spent a sleepless night, haunted by the haunting image of the white mask and the towering figure.

Rolling out of bed, you made a feeble attempt to make it, your mind still clouded with the remnants of your unsettling dreams. You changed into a simple white blouse, ripped jeans, and sneakers, the routine serving as a small distraction from the lingering fear. Descending the stairs, you found Yeji in the kitchen, flipping pancakes.

"Good morning, Y/n! How did you sleep?" Yeji greeted, her smile an attempt to bring warmth to the gloomy atmosphere.

"Terrible," you replied bluntly, your appetite diminished. You mechanically grabbed a pancake from the plate and nibbled on it, more out of habit than hunger.

Yeji, ever considerate, suggested, "You can try to sleep during lunch. I'll cover for you."

You shrugged in response. "Are we the only ones here?" you asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

"Uh-huh! My parents and your mother left for work, and your brother also left for school. So, we should head to school as well," Yeji explained, turning off the oven and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

You wrapped the remaining pancakes in a foil wrapper, slinging your own bag over your shoulder as you made your way out to Yeji's car. The warm sunlight kissed your skin as they parked at school. However, your day took an unexpected turn as you approached the entrance and found a throng of newscasters eagerly waiting.

You and Yeji exchanged a worried look before approaching the spectacle. One of the popular girls, pointing towards you, caught the attention of the reporters. Cameras surged towards you, creating a chaotic scene that overwhelmed you. Yeji quickly pulled you away from the crowd, guiding you inside the school where the cool breeze of the air conditioning offered some relief.

"Thank you, Yeji," You muttered, still trying to steady your racing heart.

"You're welcome," Yeji replied, and the two of you walked to your lockers, ignoring the stares from other students, their whispers echoing in the hallway. The day had just begun, and you knew you would need to navigate the challenges that lay ahead, both inside the school and within yourself.

You and Yeji stood by the lockers, engrossed in a conversation when you felt an odd sensation, as if someone's eyes were burning into the back of your head. Turning slightly, you noticed Lee Heeseung, a fellow student from your biology class, standing against the lockers on the opposite side of the hallway.

Heeseung was dressed entirely in black, a black mask covering most of his face, leaving only his enigmatic eyes visible. His dark hair added an extra layer of mystery to his already imposing presence. Despite sharing the same class for two years, you and Heeseung had never exchanged a single word. His lack of communication with anyone outside his circle of friends made him an enigma. You had observed him talking only with his buddies, never participating in class discussions, and always presenting alone to the teacher`s during evaluations. It wasn't that he was mute; he simply chose not to talk.

Intrigued by this peculiar behavior, you couldn't help but find him captivating. You had noticed his striking features and the air of menace that surrounded him. Yet, no one dared to pick on him, possibly due to his good looks and the intimidating aura he exuded. A crush had developed, but you kept it to yourself, fearing rejection.

As you met Heeseung's penetrating gaze, you found yourself unable to look away. It was as if he could see through you, and you couldn't break free until Yeji's intervention snapped you back to reality.

"Y/n? You okay?" Yeji's concerned voice reached your ears.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Just a little tired, that's all," You replied, closing your locker. You walked with Yeji to the next class, but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Heeseung's continued stare, unyielding even when his friend, Jake, tried to engage him in conversation.

The day passed swiftly until lunchtime, where you and Yeji found solace on a secluded bench at the end of a quiet hallway. You rested your head on Yeji's lap while attempting to catch up on much-needed sleep. Thirty minutes later, you headed to the last class of the day – biology.

Taking your usual seats by the window, Yeji braided your hair while you absentmindedly doodled on your worksheet. The teacher droned on about anatomy and nerves, but most students were more interested in their own activities. Heeseung, occupied himself with a game on his computer, occasionally glancing at the teacher.

You, also slightly distracted, glanced at Heeseung through your computer screen. You snapped out of your daze when Yeji tugged on your braid a little too hard.

"Oops, sorry," Yeji whispered as she finished the braid.

You subconsciously touched the braid and looked down at your worksheet. Glancing at Heeseung, you noticed he was focused on his computer. The rest of the class passed without further incident, leaving you with a strange mix of curiosity and unease regarding Heeseung's enigmatic gaze.

You and Yeji parted ways at the school gate, each going in your own respective directions. "I'll see you home tonight, alright?" Yeji said, giving you a warm hug. "Yes, see ya," you replied, waving as Yeji disappeared into the crowd of students leaving the school grounds.

As you headed to your after-school activities, the day unfolded with the passage of time. When the clock struck 5 PM, you found yourself finishing up, the last to leave the building. The once bustling halls were now eerily empty as you made your way to the bathroom.

In the solitude of the restroom, you decided to freshen up. You unzipped your bag and applied some lip balm, preparing to accessorize with your favorite scarf. The black and white pattern of the scarf exuded a chic and classic vibe, and as you were about to tie it, a toilet flushed behind you. Your attention shifted to the stall, and a chill ran down your spine when you saw black combat boots beneath the door.

You stiffened, a sense of dread settling in as the stall door swung open. The haunting figure from your nightmares, the same one who had attacked you the day before, emerged. The hunting knife, now clean of your blood, gleamed ominously in his hand.

"You..." you began, but your words morphed into a scream as he lunged at you, pressing you against the cold restroom wall. The impact sent a jolt of pain through your head, but the real terror came when the knife approached your throat. Bracing for the impending pain, you closed your eyes, only to find yourself still intact.

"Open your eyes," the melodic yet sinister voice from the day before demanded. Slowly, you obeyed, meeting the menacing gaze of the white-faced mask. "It's you... you are the hooded killer," you stammered out, surprisingly steady despite the fear coursing through your veins.

"I prefer the name Ghostface, but yes. That's me," he replied coolly. The knife withdrew from your throat, replaced by his hand, the blade pointed dangerously close to your face as he gripped your chin. His hollowed eyes scrutinized you, and he hummed as if evaluating your uniqueness.

"You are different than the others," he muttered cryptically. Confused and afraid, you found yourself pulled closer to him. The proximity was overwhelming, his towering figure covering you completely. Just as the situation took a more threatening turn, you seized the opportunity to elbow him in the same spot you remembered from the previous night's struggle. The move worked, and he groaned, giving you a chance to escape.

Bolting out of the bathroom, you ran out of the school, fueled by adrenaline. Your legs carried you all the way to Yeji's house. Once inside the guestroom, you hid under the safety of the bedsheets, tears streaming down your face. The questions echoed in your mind – who was this Ghostface, and why had he come for you? Only later did you realize that your black and white scarf was missing, a tangible reminder of the encounter.

Ghostface`s POV:

Ghostface observed your movements from the shadows of the bathroom, hidden behind the stall door. He had anticipated your arrival, a sense of obsession driving him to seek you out once more. The thrill of the chase, the anticipation of seeing your face when the mask was revealed – it fueled his every move.

As you entered and began to freshen up, Ghostface couldn't help but revel in the proximity. The rhythmic pulse of his own excitement resonated beneath the pale mask. The mask, a mere facade that concealed the unsettling grin he felt beneath.

The black and white scarf caught his attention – an accessory he associated with you. The pattern, a visual echo of his fixation. A piece of you, he thought. In that moment, he felt a compulsion to possess it, to keep it close as a memento of this encounter.

When you realized his presence and screamed, Ghostface reveled in the fear he induced. The exhilaration surged as he pressed you against the cold wall, the metallic glint of the hunting knife dancing dangerously close to your throat. He watched you close your eyes, surrendering to the terror he wrought.

"Open your eyes," he commanded, wanting to savor the fear reflected in your gaze. The hollow sockets of the mask mirrored his emotions – a twisted dance between malevolence and obsession. He examined you closely, drawn to the nuances of your reaction.

You, surprisingly resilient, managed to escape his grip, Ghostface grunted in pain. The elbow strike had found its mark, the wound from the previous encounter throbbing beneath the black fabric of his costume. Yet, the pain was inconsequential compared to the thrill of the chase.

Impressed by your cunning, Ghostface couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. You had remembered the weakness he exposed the night before. He allowed himself a cold grin beneath the mask, admiring your resilience.

As you fled the scene, Ghostface reached for the scarf you had left behind. It lay on the ground, a symbol of your vulnerability. He picked it up, feeling the soft fabric in his gloved hands. A dark satisfaction enveloped him as he tucked it into his sleeve, a macabre trophy of his obsession with you. Later, as he changed out of the costume, he felt the wound reopen, the blood under the bandage a reminder of the dance between predator and prey. Yet, nothing could overshadow the twisted pleasure he derived from the encounter.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

The dinner table was a silent gathering, each scrape of utensils against plates echoing through the room. You sat with your family and Yeji's, your appetite lost in the weight of recent events. Pushing your food back and forth, you barely registered the mundane sounds of family dinner.

The doorbell interrupted the uneasy quiet, prompting Yeji's father to rise and welcome two unexpected guests. Police officers, their presence cast a somber mood over the room. "Hello, come in," Yeji's father invited. The officers' gaze turned to you, and with a curt nod from one of them, they addressed you. "Ready to go, Mrs. y/l/n?" You simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment, and followed the officers to their car, waving goodbye to your brother Kyungmin.

Seated in the back of the police car, you stared out of the window, watching the night pass by in a blur. The quiet journey took you to the police station, where the cold, sterile atmosphere greeted you. Zipping up your hoodie for warmth, you sat alone in a stark room, the minutes stretching into an eternity.

The interview was a chilling recount of the horrors you had faced. Finally, the clock on the wall revealed the lateness of the hour, nearing 1 AM. The same police officer who brought you in now drove you back, his partner strangely absent. Suddenly, a jolt rocked the car, prompting the officer to stop. "What was that?" You asked, concern in your voice. "I don't know, stay here," the officer commanded as he exited the vehicle, leaving you locked inside.

Unbeknownst to you, the officer had driven over a gruesome scene—a lifeless, bloodied body. As he knelt down to investigate, a swift strike ended his life. Ghostface emerged from the shadows, the thrill of the kill evident behind his mask. His eyes gleamed with a sinister delight as he looked at the two corpses.

You, oblivious to the horror unfolding outside, remained locked in the car, scrolling on your phone. But when you looked up the sudden appearance of Ghostface in the rearview mirror sent shivers down your spine. Frantically attempting to escape, you found yourself trapped as Ghostface circled the car, his gloved hand pressing the car keys.

With an aggressive pull, the door swung open, and you attempted to flee. Ghostface, however, was faster. He seized your ankle, and the glint of his knife traced a painful path down your calf. Your scream echoed in the night as you kicked free, running into the cold darkness. Ghostface, fueled by sadistic pleasure, pursued you, the chilling words hanging in the air, "Go ahead and run, princess.... It only makes it more fun for me."

You cursed under your breath as you realized the police car had stopped in the midst of a dense forest. Shadows loomed ominously, and the flickering moonlight cast an eerie glow through the twisted branches. The forest, a labyrinth of darkness, was the worst place to be pursued by a relentless killer. You ran past trees, stumbling over uneven ground, twigs slapping against your face as if nature itself conspired to impede your escape. Yet, you pressed on, ignoring the obstacles that sought to detain you, focusing solely on surviving the chilling pursuit.

In your frantic flight, you tripped over something soft, and you grunted as your palms scraped against the unforgiving ground. Turning around, you let out a horrified scream— you had stumbled upon a lifeless body. Ghostface emerged from the shadows, his ominous figure contrasting with the darkness of the forest. "Don't feel bad," he taunted. You snapped your gaze up at him, the fear in your eyes palpable. "Did..you kill them?" you stammered.

"Who else would?" Ghostface retorted with a chilling sarcasm that sent shivers down your spine. "But why?" You questioned, desperation etched in your voice. Ghostface, advancing closer, seemed almost amused. "Oh! You want to know my motive?" he mocked. "You know, I really don't know. Call it impulsivity, call it incidental. But for me?" He waved his knife theatrically. "It's just for fun." His voice dripped with a sinister tone that echoed through the dark expanse.

"You are crazy!" You exclaimed, your defiance cutting through the tension. Ghostface feigned hurt, responding, "Oh, now that's just hurtful, princess." You, angered by the name, insisted, "I said not to call me that!" Ghostface, undeterred, continued his twisted rambling, offering alternatives like "sweetheart," "baby," "sunshine," and "honey." You rejected each one with growing frustration.

"But that's no fun... Y/n," Ghostface announced, relishing the way your name rolled off his tongue. Clenching your fists, you felt vulnerable and exposed, alone in the heart of the foreboding forest. "This isn't supposed to be fun!" you shouted. Ghostface merely chuckled, declaring, "Well, it's fun for me."

As he lunged to attack, you instinctively ducked and darted past him, tears streaming down your face. His sinister voice echoed in your ears, "Run, run! I will always be right behind you!" Everywhere you looked, you saw him, a phantom in the shadows—behind a tree, perched on a rock. Your mind played tricks on you, every shadow morphing into a potential threat.

Gasping for breath, you collapsed on the asphalt of the road, tears blurring your vision. Gripping your chest, you felt a crushing weight. Your throat tightened, breaths came in ragged gasps, and your old wounds reopened, mingling with the fresh gash on your leg. Overwhelmed, you succumbed to a panic attack. The only illumination came from the vacant police car, casting an isolated glow on you amidst the darkness.

Voices and another set of headlights pierced through the night as another car approached. As the darkness claimed your consciousness, exhaustion took over, and the traumatic ordeal drew to a temporary close.

Heeseung`s POV

Heeseung entered his house, greeted by the sight of his father slouched in the armchair, oblivious to the world, drowned in the stupor of alcohol. The flickering TV cast a pale glow on the worn-out carpet, showcasing some mindless commercial. Heeseung felt a twinge of resentment towards his father, a lingering disdain for the man who had remained after his mother's departure. Yet, beneath the layers of frustration, there lingered a reluctant sense of caring, however faint.

Tired of the oppressive atmosphere, Heeseung ascended the stairs, seeking refuge in the solace of his bedroom. The click of the lock echoed in the silence, shutting out the world beyond. Slinging his bag onto the bed, he removed his hoodie, letting it join the discarded laundry. The red-stained bandages peeked through as he peeled off his t-shirt, revealing evidence of wounds that had reopened that day.

A determined resolve etched on his face, Heeseung stood before the mirror. The vivid red of his bandages against the pale of his skin hinted at the violence he had unleashed. Swift and skilled, he rewrapped the bandages with practiced efficiency, ensuring the wounds were concealed once more. Fresh clothes replaced the discarded ones, and with a meticulous routine, he zipped open his bag.

The ghostface costume emerged, stained with the evidence of his actions. Heeseung soaked it, allowing the water to wash away the blood and sweat, leaving no trace of his grim deeds. The hunting knife, an extension of his malevolence, was cleansed under a resolution that eradicated any lingering residue under the unforgiving UV rays.

Then, he delicately pulled out the scarf, a token of his encounter with you. The soft material caressed by his fingertips, a reminder of a night that had sparked something unfamiliar within him. Collapsing onto his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, the walls adorned with posters from games and horror movies. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing thoughts of you to fill his mind.

As slumber claimed him, a subtle smile lingered on his face, an unsettling contrast to the darkness that surrounded him.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Your eyes fluttered open, and the harsh hospital lights made you wince. Panic seized you as the memories of the previous night flooded your mind. Before the fear could fully consume you, a calming hand and a familiar voice reached out to you.

"It's okay, it's okay!" Yeji's voice reassured you, and you turned your head to see your friend by your side.

"Yeji? Where am I? What happened?" Your voice was shaky, the events of the night still lingering in your consciousness.

"You're in the hospital. We found you on the ground... was it him again?" Yeji's concern was evident in her eyes as you slowly settled back onto the bed. The sterile scent and the hum of medical equipment around you became more apparent.

"Yeah... it was," you admitted, your gaze falling to the IV in your arm. Vivid images of the killer and the police officer's death replayed in your mind.

"We know, we know. The cops have taken care of everything," Yeji explained, attempting to offer some comfort.

"Yeji... why is he doing this... to me?" your plea held a mix of confusion and desperation as you sought answers from your friend.

"I don't—" Yeji began, but her words were interrupted by another voice entering the room.

"It's because you're a badass!" Kyungmin, your younger brother, announced as he bounded into the room. He climbed onto the chair beside your bed, his eyes filled with admiration.

"What?" you looked at him in surprise.

"Think about it! In every scenario, the victims die, but you have survived every single encounter! You're the final girl, sis! You'll kill him and live on to tell the tale!" Kyungmin explained with unbridled excitement.

"Kyungmin... how do you know so much about horror movies?" Yeji asked, attempting to redirect the conversation.

"Oh... well... we have them, and..." Kyungmin began, but you tuned out their conversation. Your mind was focused on the realization your brother had presented.

When Ghostface had first come after you, he wasn't prepared for your resourcefulness and determination to fight back. Despite multiple encounters, he hadn't succeeded in taking your life. He toyed with you, savoring the chase. You took a deep breath, absorbing the truth. You was the final girl. A surge of determination welled within you, replacing the fear with a fierce resolve to confront the hooded killer once and for all.

Days blurred together for you as you layed in the hospital bed, recovering from the harrowing events that unfolded. Yeji, being the devoted friend she was, visited daily, bringing both updates on school life and a mountain of homework. The constant drone of the television in the corner of the room kept the atmosphere heavy, each news report recounting the horrifying murders that had taken place.

You winced every time the name "Ghostface" echoed through the speakers. The news anchors dramatized your survival story, casting you as a resilient heroine in the face of unspeakable horror. The relentless coverage gnawed at your nerves, replaying the trauma with every broadcast.

One afternoon, as the news segment started, Yeji seized the opportunity to bring some normalcy to the room. With a swift movement, she turned off the TV and turned towards you.

"No TV now, we have a test to study for, and you need to know this when you get released from here," Yeji declared, holding a biology textbook in her hands. "Now eat your pudding while I read chapter 13 to you."

You grumbled, your mood not the brightest, but you obediently took a spoonful of the pudding the nurse had brought in. Yeji, undeterred, began firing questions from the textbook, ensuring you kept up with the coursework despite the challenging circumstances.

As Yeji read, the words of biology mingled with the beeping of machines and the occasional murmur from other patients. The room transformed into a makeshift classroom, a haven from the chaos outside its walls.

Heeseung/Ghostface`s POV:

Heeseung slumped in his biology class, your empty seat serving as a constant reminder of your absence. The room felt colder, the air heavier, and his restlessness intensified with every passing minute. The usual banter and whispers of the students around him seemed distant, drowned out by the void left in your wake.

His internal conflict manifested in a sharp edge to his demeanor. When a girl approached him, attempting to initiate a conversation, he reacted with an uncharacteristic harshness, pushing her away without a second thought. He needed to be alone, away from the prying eyes and casual interactions that only accentuated his yearning for your presence.

Heeseung abruptly left the classroom, making his way to the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he flung his bag on the cold, tiled floor, the clatter echoing in the small space. With an impatient pull, he yanked off his mask, revealing a face twisted with frustration as he glared at his own reflection in the grimy mirror.

The internal turmoil was eating at him. He missed you more than he had anticipated, and it bothered him on a visceral level. The need to see you, to hear you, to be close to you, clawed at his chest like a relentless beast. It was a sensation he couldn't easily dismiss, a yearning that fueled his restlessness.

With a frustrated groan, Heeseung unleashed his anger on the bathroom stall. A violent kick sent the door crashing into the wall, leaving an unmistakable dent. For a moment, the physical release offered a semblance of satisfaction, but the ache persisted.

Regaining composure, Heeseung gathered his belongings, pulling the mask back into place. He left the bathroom, his tardiness to class a consequence he was willing to accept in exchange for the futile attempt to quell the storm of emotions within him. The hospital, where you resided, loomed in his thoughts like a magnetic force, drawing him closer with each passing second.

Ghostface lingered outside the hospital in the cool night, shadows cloaking his figure as he observed the changing of the nurses. With calculated precision, he navigated the terrain, making his way toward the entrance. A gentle nudge opened the glass door, and he slipped in, avoiding detection as he roamed through the silent hallways.

Peeking through a hand mirror, he strategically eliminated the nurses, each swift kill leaving a trail of lifeless bodies in his wake. The hospital became a dark canvas painted with the aftermath of his murderous spree. A sinister whistle beckoned a lone nurse towards him, her fate sealed with a quick, silent demise.

Ghostface moved with chilling efficiency, silencing doctors and nurses alike, his path leading him to the second floor. In the dimly lit hallway, he encountered a lone doctor, oblivious to the danger closing in. The knife struck, ending the doctor's life, adding one more casualty to the night's symphony of death.

Room 104, the destination imprinted on Ghostface's mind. With stealth and malevolence, he approached the door, a predator seeking its prey. Slowly creaking it open, he peered inside, revealing you asleep on the bed, Yeji on a chair beside you. Ghostface hesitated, his knife poised for the strike, but something in your peaceful slumber gave him pause.

A twisted fascination held Ghostface captive as he studied your sleeping face. Unbeknownst to him, Yeji stirred and gasped, her eyes widening with terror. Swiftly, Ghostface redirected his attention, raising his knife. A sudden movement caught his peripheral vision, and he turned to see you waking up.

"No... please," You whispered, your voice a plea in the night. Ghostface lowered his weapon, momentarily captivated by the desperation in your eyes. It was a fleeting moment before he turned and, with a brutal efficiency, stabbed Yeji, silencing her pleas. The room became a stage for a cruel dance of violence.

As Ghostface tossed Yeji aside, he realized you had vanished from the bed. A thrill coursed through him, and he pursued you down the dimly lit hallway. Your panicked breaths echoed, the chase heightening the tension. You darted into a room, and Ghostface followed.

Closing and locking the door behind him, he taunted, "Come out, come out, wherever you are, princess. I know you are here." You, hidden behind boxes, held your breath, fear etched across your face. Ghostface continued his macabre game, attempting to coax you out with promises of conversation.

When you remained silent, he sighed, "Come on, princess. Come out, and we can talk like adults." As he approached, you lunged, wrapping yourself around his back. A violent struggle ensued, you desperately fighting for your life. Ghostface slammed you against the wall, causing you to release your grip.

Turning to face you, he seized your wrists, pinning them above your head. In the dimly lit supply closet, Ghostface loomed over you, relishing the terror in your eyes. "There you are," he whispered, a sinister grin beneath the mask. You whimpered as he silenced you with a hand over your mouth. "Shhh. We can't have anyone waking up and disturbing our sweet time together now, can we?" he mused, his voice dripping with malevolence. "I just had to see you, princess," he added, a cruel fascination gleaming in his eyes.

Ghostface had been studying you, relishing in the desperation that flickered in your eyes after days of separation. The ache of missing you had grown unbearable. So caught up in his twisted fascination, he didn't notice when you unleashed a swift knee to his groin. The pain jolted through him, and he staggered back, momentarily incapacitated.

Seizing the opportunity, you fled, unlocking the door and making your way down the stairs and out of the hospital. Outside, you paused to catch your breath, relief washing over you. However, your momentary respite was shattered when you looked up and gasped. Ghostface loomed in your hospital room, holding Yeji with a knife to her throat.

Fear gripped you, and you cried out, rushing back inside, disregarding the lifeless bodies scattered around. As you reached your hospital room, you opened the door cautiously. The only sight that greeted you was Yeji on the ground, unconscious but seemingly unharmed. However, your moment of relief was short-lived.

A knife pressed against your back, and an arm coiled around your chest. Ghostface's voice, a sinister whisper, cut through the air. "I knew you'd be back when you saw your precious friend helpless."

Frustration welled within you. "What do you want with me? If you wanted to kill me, you would have done so!"

No answer came from Ghostface, and you strained to catch a glimpse of him through the corner of your eye. The mask revealed nothing, only his steady breaths. A chilling silence lingered before he spoke again, his voice devoid of emotion. "I just wanted to see you."

With an abrupt release, Ghostface pushed you away. You scrambled to the side, your eyes wide as you realized he had disappeared. The unnerving encounter left you perplexed, but your concern shifted back to Yeji. Clambering over, you checked Yeji's pulse and breathed a sigh of relief at the reassuring signs of life. The inexplicable motive of Ghostface remained a haunting mystery.

A full week had passed since Yeji and you were discharged from the hospital, which had been grappling with a significant loss of staff. Unbeknownst to you, surviving encounters with Ghostface had turned the two of you into unwilling celebrities, your stories circulating through hushed whispers and frightened glances.

You, especially, wanted no part of this unwanted popularity. After finishing your school day, you walked to your car and drove to the mall, seeking solace in the mundane routine of shopping. You wandered through the mall, your hood pulled over your head, two shopping bags in hand. Amid the hustle and bustle, a notification chimed on your phone, drawing your attention. Unaware of your surroundings, you collided with someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" you exclaimed, stepping back. When you looked up, you realized you had crashed into Heeseung. He stood there, clad in jeans and a black hoodie, his own hood covering most of his face except for his piercing eyes. A black medical mask concealed the lower half of his face.

"No worries!" Jake, who stood beside Heeseung, chimed in. "Hey, you're Y/n!" he added.

"Yeah, that's me," You replied, a hint of confusion in your voice. Heeseung remained silent, his eyes fixed on you. The air thickened with an unspoken tension, leaving you to wonder about the thoughts hidden behind Heeseung's enigmatic gaze.

Jake leaned down with a friendly smile, resembling a puppy eager for attention. "Hey, it's totally cool if you don't wanna, but there's a small party tonight at my house. If it sparks some interest, just hit me up, and I'll text you the address," he said.

You hummed, looking at him. "Eh, sure... I'll think about it. Thanks," you replied.

"Oh, is that Candyman!?" Jake added, peeking into your shopping bag and spotting the horror movie disc. "You like horror movies?" he asked.

You glanced down at your shopping bag and then back up at Jake, nodding. "Have you seen it?" you inquired.

"Sure, I have! The killer and victim falling in love with each other? That's a new one in horror, if you ask me. It was refreshing!" Jake said.

"Sure," You replied. However, your attention shifted when you noticed Heeseung extending his hand, his fingers curled into a fist. Perplexed, you looked at him with confusion. Heeseung then opened his palm, revealing a heart-shaped chocolate, and nudged it toward you.

"That means it's for you," Jake explained.

"Oh, thank you," You said, blushing lightly as you took the chocolate from Heeseung. Your fingers brushed, and you couldn't help but notice the warmth of Heeseung's skin. The size difference between the chocolate in his hand and yours intrigued you. Before you could say more, Jake ushered Heeseung away.

"Well, you think about the party today! It was nice meeting you," Jake called back as he guided Heeseung toward the gaming store.

"Yeah, you too," you muttered to yourself. You looked down at the chocolate, opened the wrapper, and popped it into your mouth, savoring the unexpectedly delicious taste of caramel. With a shrug, you tossed the wrapper into a nearby trash can and continued with your shopping, thoughts of the party lingering in your mind.

Heeseung`s POV:

Heeseung stood near the entrance of the mall, his attention lost in his thoughts as the world passed by. A sudden impact jolted him, and he instinctively prepared to glare at the perpetrator. However, when his eyes met yours all traces of irritation dissipated, replaced by a sense of fascination.

You mumbled an apology, your voice weaving a sense of normalcy into his troubled world. As you engaged in conversation with Jake, Heeseung found himself feeling strangely giddy, observing you act so effortlessly regular. Little did you know that he was the unseen cause of the disturbance in her life, a hidden figure orchestrating chaos from the shadows.

His focus shifted to the interaction between you and Jake, and a subtle warmth filled his chest. He watched as you accepted the heart-shaped chocolate from him, your fingers briefly brushing in the exchange. The touch sent a pleasant tingle down his spine, leaving him with a subtle, lingering joy.

Jake pulled him away toward the gaming store, and Heeseung went willingly, turning his gaze back for a moment to observe you. From afar, he witnessed you unwrap the chocolate and take a bite, his heart lifting with happiness. A smile, hidden beneath the mask, crept onto his face. The only indication of his joy was the gentle crinkle at the corners of his eyes, a silent expression of contentment as he continued to watch from the shadows.

The room Heeseung was in was dimly lit, the atmosphere carrying an air of calculated calmness. He opened the closet, concealing the bag with the Ghostface costume and the hunting knife with meticulous care. As the door closed, the concealed items seemed to vanish into the shadows. Heeseung's focus shifted to the clothes he had recently purchased, the jeans hugging his legs, a black t-shirt embracing his frame, and a leather jacket adding a touch of mystery. A quick slick of his hair back completed the transformation.

He walked out of the room, leaving behind the ghost of his darker intentions. The party preparations were already underway, and Heeseung joined Jake, Jay, Niki, Jungwon, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and their other friends. Working together, they transformed the space into a lively venue, laughter and music echoing through the walls.

Heeseung chose not to return home; there was nothing for him there. His father, a haunting figure from his past, rested in the depths of a secluded forest, far removed from prying eyes. Today marked the culmination of his plans, and your presence at the party was an unexpected yet welcomed development.

As the festivities commenced, people streamed in, each face a blur of insignificance to Heeseung. He maintained his aloof demeanor, detached from the jovial conversations around him. In the midst of the crowd, he waited patiently, his attention fixed on the entrance, anticipating the arrival of the one person who truly mattered to him.

Your POV:

You and Yeji moved with a silent synchronicity, your stealthy escape from the house guided by the allure of the unknown night. Dressed in contrasting styles, Yeji embraced chic elegance, while you opted for black jeans paired with a red off-shoulder top. The two of you ventured into the world outside, leaving behind the constraints of parental knowledge.

The party pulsated with life as you arrived, the atmosphere thick with the scent of alcohol, drugs, and the perspiration of dancing bodies. The booming music enveloped you as you navigated through the crowd. Yeji found her boyfriend, disappearing into the sea of people, leaving you to explore the chaotic beauty of the gathering on your own.

With a drink in hand, you claimed a vacant spot on a couch. It was an unconventional choice, sharing the space with a couple too engrossed in each other to notice your presence. As you sipped your drink, you observed the rhythmic movements on the dance floor, losing yourself in the pulsating beats.

Your gaze wandered, and unexpectedly, it met Heeseung's. For the first time, the black mask was absent, revealing the entirety of his face. You found yourself captivated by his handsome features, his sharp lines softened by the absence of the usual disguise. You chewed on your bottom lip, unknowingly drawn into an observation that felt both intrusive and intimate.

Heeseung, engaged in conversation with Sunghoon, eventually turned his head. As his eyes met yours, the intensity in his gaze was palpable. You, caught off guard, quickly averted your eyes, the unexpected connection leaving you both intrigued and uneasy.

Heeseung`s POV:

Heeseung's attention wavered as he conversed with Sunghoon, a subtle force pulling at him, urging him to look elsewhere. And when he did, his eyes found you in the crowd. The chaotic surroundings seemed to fade away, leaving only you in his field of vision.

A strange sensation bloomed in Heeseung's chest, an unfamiliar warmth that spread through him. The sight of you stirred something within him, a desire to sweep you away from the prying eyes of the party and offer you everything he had, the entirety of his world.

A smirk played on Heeseung's lips as he locked eyes with you. He raised his drink to his lips, savoring the liquid as he continued to gaze at you, a silent promise lingering in the air.

Heeseung confidently placed his finished drink on the table and strolled past the dancing floor, heading straight toward you. The glances from his friends, filled with confusion, didn't deter him. A quick glance at his wristwatch made him grin. He had time.

Stopping in front of you, he extended his hand and gestured towards the dancing floor. At your initial hesitation, he raised an eyebrow, silently questioning. You, after putting down your own drink, took his hand. He licked his lips before gently pulling you towards the dancing floor.

As you danced, Heeseung encouraged you with smiles, and to his surprise, you started to move with more confidence. He grinned and, seizing the opportunity, placed his hands on your waist. The synchronization between you two was so natural that you didn't notice a growing circle of people around you, cheering and hyping you up.

The dance reached its climax when Heeseung gripped you, spinning you around before ending with a dramatic pose – him holding you in a dip. The applause and cheers from the crowd engulfed you, but in that moment, Heeseung and you seemed to exist in your own world, your eyes locked, both of you catching your breaths.

Heeseung lifted you up again with a playful grin before backing away. The music abruptly stopped, and everyone turned their attention to Jay, who held the microphone.

"I just got news that the principal is stuck up by the flagpole at school!" Jay announced, and the crowd erupted in excitement, rushing out of the house to witness the unexpected spectacle.

Your POV:

Your surprise flickered across your face when you noticed someone standing in front of you. However, as Heeseung came into view, that initial surprise morphed into a different kind of astonishment. When he extended his hand, asking you to dance, you hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the lively atmosphere. The music pulsed through the air, beckoning you to join in the fun.

Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, you accepted Heeseung's hand and joined him on the dance floor. As the rhythm took over, you grinned, noticing the surprise in Heeseung's expression. The music became a bridge, connecting you in a dance that felt surprisingly natural. You felt good dancing with Heeseung, the movements easy and fluid.

The dance reached its peak, and you ended with a pose that left you mesmerized, locking eyes with Heeseung. It was a moment suspended in time until Jay's announcement shattered the spell. The shocking news about the principal by the flagpole sent a wave of confusion through the crowd, and the house emptied with lightning speed.

You stood there, shocked, watching the sudden exodus. The party had dissipated in an instant, leaving you alone in the now-quiet room. Your gaze searched for Heeseung, only to find that he, too, had vanished along with the rest of the revelers.

The flickering light of the TV cast a surreal glow over the room as the stragglers from the party settled in to watch Train to Busan. You, initially indifferent, sat beside Yeji, who had pleaded with you to stay. The remaining company included Yeji's boyfriend Jiyoo, Doyun, Beomseok, and Byeol—classmates whom you recognized but didn't particularly engage with.

As the movie unfolded on the screen, Beomseok began a vociferous rant, berating the film's intelligence and boastfully claiming he'd easily survive a horror movie. Doyun, unnoticed by the others, vanished in pursuit of a beer, only to meet his demise at Ghostface's hands in the kitchen.

Byeol, prompted by a call from his concerned mother, left the gathering, unknowingly walking towards his fatal encounter with Ghostface, his life brutally ended in his own car.

Feeling the need to escape the awkwardness of the situation, you excused yourself, heading upstairs in search of the bathroom. Locking yourself in, you remained oblivious to the unfolding bloodshed until a piercing scream echoed through the house. Startled, you rushed downstairs, only to be met with a nightmarish scene.

Jiyoo lay lifeless on the floor, Yeji wailing in grief, and Beomseok standing beside her, bloodied and wounded, wielding a pan in defense. Beomseok, acknowledging your presence, blamed you for the chaos, proclaiming that your mere presence had attracted the crazed Ghostface. However, the sudden sound of a gunshot silenced him as he fell backward, shot by an unseen assailant.

Turning towards the kitchen, your eyes widened at the sight of Ghostface—his mask smeared with blood, holding a knife and a gun. The gun was now pointed at you, and you instinctively raised your hands in surrender.

"Please..." Yeji pleaded, fear evident in her tear-filled eyes.

Ghostface disregarded Yeji and turned his masked visage toward you, his eyes hidden behind the haunting expression. "You really are a gem, do you know that, sweetheart?" he remarked, his voice carrying an unsettling calmness. "You know, when I first broke into your house, I wanted to end you," he continued, the weight of his words settling like a suffocating blanket, "but afterwards? I came to the realization that I don't want to kill you."

A mixture of confusion and terror clouded your expression as you ventured, "Then... what do you want to do?"

An airy laugh escaped Ghostface's concealed mouth, sending shivers down your spine. "I want you to be mine forever," he declared, the words hanging in the air like a sinister melody.

"What...?" You uttered, unable to conceal the fear in your voice.

Ghostface chuckled, "So let me make you a deal. If you come with me right now, I will leave your friend alive. Your choice."

The gravity of the decision weighed heavily on your shoulders. Your gaze flickered between Yeji, still engulfed in sorrow, and the masked figure before you. The room seemed to close in, the silence punctuated only by the muffled sobs of Yeji. In that harrowing moment, you grappled with an impossible choice, the consequences echoing through the chilling laughter of the masked assailant.

Before you could comprehend the gravity of his words, a shot rang out, and Ghostface vanished into hiding. A police officer, responding to a noise complaint, entered the scene, providing momentary relief. Another officer appeared in the doorway, and you felt a surge of gratitude.

However, the relief was short-lived. The first officer, in a moment of panic at seeing Ghostface peek out behind the wall, began firing indiscriminately. The room descended into chaos, and your, eyes wide with horror, witnessed the accidental demise of your friend. Yeji's lifeless body lay on the ground, a casualty of the very protectors who were supposed to ensure safety.

In shock, you stumbled down the stairs and out of the house. The cop who inadvertently caused the tragedy looked on in horror, realizing the magnitude of the mistake.

The air crackled with tension, and the scent of blood lingered like an ominous premonition. Your tear-filled eyes remained fixed on Yeji's lifeless form, an overwhelming grief tightening your chest.

In the midst of the disarray, two sudden, deafening gunshots pierced the air. The cops, caught off guard, crumpled to the floor- dead. The room fell into shocked silence, broken only by Ghostface's eerie chuckle. Emerging from the shadows, he stepped over the fallen officers, his dark cloak billowing like a phantom in the night.

Ghostface's masked gaze shifted from the lifeless bodies to you. He shook his head in a feigned disappointment. "See what happens when you don't trust me, princess? Now your friend is dead." The callous words cut through the air, leaving you speechless as fresh tears streamed down your face.

Crouching down beside you, Ghostface tutted disapprovingly. He reached out, his gloved hand cupping your chin, wiping away tears with a scrap of his cloak. "Don't cry, my love," he whispered, his voice a chilling murmur. "I would hate to ruin your pretty mascara."

Your tear-streaked face, illuminated by the flickering lights of police cars in the distance, revealed the toll of the horror you had witnessed. As exhaustion overcame you, your body gave in, and you collapsed against the masked figure, your breaths shallow and ragged. Exhausted and broken, you could only muster silent sobs, as you succumbed to the darkness.

Ghostface's voice, a chilling contrast to the chaos that had unfolded, whispered reassurance to the shattered girl in his arms. "Oh, my poor dear... Don't worry. I will take good care of you, my precious gem." His words, seemingly soothing, echoed with an unsettling promise as he gently lifted you from the blood-stained scene, cradling you like a fragile doll.

Guiding you towards a hidden car, Ghostface laid you down in the backseat with a tenderness that contradicted the violence that had transpired moments ago. The muted glow of the streetlights illuminated his masked visage as he carefully arranged you, the weight of your unconscious form a reminder of the darkness that clung to him.

Returning to the house, Ghostface, a master of deception, meticulously staged the aftermath. Beomseok's lifeless body was draped in the iconic Ghostface costume, a macabre transformation that would divert any lingering suspicions. The scene bore the haunting imprint of a horror movie set, with the pale moonlight casting eerie shadows over the distorted reality he had crafted.

Having completed his sinister tableau, Ghostface returned to the idling car. Opening the door with a sense of purpose, he found you still lost in the refuge of unconsciousness. Ghostface slid into the driver's seat, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel with a steely resolve.

As the car glided away from the crime-ridden suburban tableau, Ghostface's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, a sinister smile hidden beneath the mask. The darkened highway stretched out before him, leading to the next town.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

The groggy haze began to lift from your mind as you slowly awoke in an unfamiliar bed. You winced, feeling a dull ache throughout your body, and a groan escaped your lips as you sat up. The room around you was dimly lit, and the bed you found yourself on was surprisingly comfortable.

Your eyes scanned the surroundings, and a sudden wave of realization hit you. Memories of the horrifying events from the night before flooded back, and your heart sank. Yeji, your friend, was dead, and Ghostface had taken you.

Your hands gripped the edge of the table beside the bed as a heart-wrenching sob threatened to escape. You couldn't comprehend the nightmare you had become a part of.

A note on the table caught your attention, and you read the ominous message. "Fresh clothes in the closet, take a shower princess." The word 'princess' sent shivers down your spine, and your eyes widened with dread. Nevertheless, you gathered yourself and steeled your resolve.

Waddling towards the door, you tried the handle, only to find it locked. Frustration and fear fueled your determination. You gritted your teeth and surveyed the room for another way out. Spotting another door, you cautiously approached and turned the handle, revealing a surprisingly luxurious bathroom.

The sight of the pristine facilities contrasted sharply with the terror of the previous night. Taking a deep breath, you decided to follow the note's instructions. You crumpled the note in your hand, a silent rebellion against the unseen captor, before locking the bathroom door behind you.

The hot water cascaded over you, washing away the physical and emotional stains of the previous night. You lingered, lost in your thoughts, as if the water could cleanse you of the horror you had experienced.

Emerging from the shower, you found the promised clothes in the closet. A pair of pants and a warm sweater offered some comfort in this strange place. You dressed quickly, your mind racing with uncertainty and fear.

Once again facing the locked door, you sighed. The feeling of entrapment settled in your chest, but you pushed it aside, determined to confront whatever awaited you beyond that door. With one last glance around the room, you returned to the bed and sat, bracing yourself for whatever came next.

When the door to the bedroom clicked open, you cautiously pushed it ajar. Peering into the adjacent spaces, you found yourself in a kitchen with a faint aroma of something cooking. To your right, a living room unfolded, and in its midst sat Ghostface, the embodiment of your nightmares. Yet, he appeared different—regular jeans, a black t-shirt, and the ominous Ghostface mask, casually manspreading in a chair, hands resting comfortably on his lap. The mask concealed his expression, leaving you to grapple with the mystery of the man who had brought you here.

"Come on out, princess," his voice rumbled, carrying the roughness of a morning awakening. You hesitated for a moment, your eyes fixed on the mysterious figure. You cautiously stepped forward, closing the bedroom door behind you. The click of the lock echoed in the room, and Ghostface gestured for you to come closer.

With hesitance in your steps, you moved towards him, your eyes flickering between the enigmatic mask and the man beneath it. Ghostface didn't rush you, his posture remaining relaxed as if he had all the time in the world.

But as you approached, his strong hands shot out, gripping your waist, and he effortlessly pulled you onto his lap. "There you are," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, as if this was an ordinary encounter.

You stiffened, gazing into the mask that concealed his identity. The weight of the question lingering in your eyes, you asked, "Who are you? Why did you do this to me?"

"Oh, my love," he replied, his voice softening, "I told you it's because I love you." Before you could react, his hands moved to the secure straps of the mask. Holding your breath, you watched as he unclasped the clasps, removing the Ghostface mask and tossing it aside. A gasp escaped your lips as Heeseung's handsome and sharp face was revealed.

"Heeseung!?" you exclaimed, the shock evident in your voice. The revelation left you speechless. "You're Ghostface?"

"Yes, I am," Heeseung confirmed, his grip on you firm but gentle. "And you are mine." With those words, he pulled you in for a kiss. You gasped at the unexpected intimacy. Conflicting emotions swirled within you—your long-time crush, Heeseung, was kissing you.

You felt an unexpected surge of warmth and a fluttering sensation deep in your stomach. Your heart and brain seemed to engage in a silent battle, each demanding you attention with conflicting emotions.

The warmth of the kiss sent a cascade of conflicting signals through you. On one hand, there was the undeniable thrill of being kissed by someone you had secretly admired for so long. His lips, warm and tender, pressed against yours, creating a sensory overload that your heart eagerly embraced.

But then your brain, the logical part of you, fought back with a barrage of questions and concerns. This was the same person who had, just moments ago, been hidden behind the Ghostface mask, the person who had orchestrated nights of terror that ended in tragedy. The internal struggle intensified, causing a whirlwind of emotions that left you momentarily disoriented.

Yet, despite the internal conflict, the kiss itself was undeniably magnetic. Heeseung's gentle caresses and the way he held you close seemed to overpower the rational part of your mind. The butterflies in your stomach danced, and for that brief moment, the chaos within you was silenced by the intoxicating allure of the kiss.

As Heeseung deepened the kiss, while his hands caressed your waist, your heart won the internal battle, and you reciprocated the kiss with fervor. Your thoughts became a distant murmur, and you surrendered to the swirling emotions, letting the warmth and intimacy of the moment envelop you.

Heeseung smirked in the midst of the passionate embrace, his hands wrapped around you, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. Your lips met in a fervent dance, an intimate tango that seemed to defy the boundaries of time and reason. You felt the warmth of his touch, the gentle caress of his fingers on your hips, and the magnetic pull that seemed to bind you two together.

With a newfound boldness, you tightened your grip on Heeseung's shirt, fingers clinging to the fabric as if grounding yourself in the intensity of the moment. The rhythmic dance of your lips became a symphony of shared longing, and you found yourself unable to resist exploring further.

Slipping your hands up from his shirt to his cheeks, you savored the sensation of his skin beneath your fingertips. The kiss grew more passionate, and in an unspoken exchange, you let your fingers trace the contours of his face, memorizing the details that had long been masked by the ominous masks.

Your hands continued their journey, winding through Heeseung's hair. The once neatly styled locks now fell victim to your eager touch, tousled and disheveled by your exploring fingers. His hair, soft and slightly damp from a shower, felt soft beneath your touch.

As you pulled back from the kiss, you found yourself breathless, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the shared moment. Yet, when you gazed into Heeseung's eyes, you discovered a hunger, an unquenchable longing that mirrored your own conflicted emotions.

Heeseung, with his hair tousled from the passionate exchange, stared at you with a mixture of love and obsession. His puffy, red lips, moistened by the flick of his tongue, spoke volumes of the desire that lingered between you two. The air was charged with tension as he chased after your lips. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Undeterred by your withdrawal, Heeseung redirected his attention, placing lingering kisses along your jawline and down to your neck. His actions were filled with a possessive urgency, a declaration of the emotions that simmered beneath the surface. However, a low growl escaped him when you, using your grip on his tousled hair, pulled him back.

With a pout that accentuated the desire in his eyes, Heeseung looked up at you. His hands, now caressing up and down your sides, ventured down to your hips, fingers tracing the curves with an almost reverent touch. The room seemed to pulse with the ebb and flow of your desires, a dance of conflicting emotions and unspoken promises.

"Heeseung, wait... what about my mom? And my brother? They are, for sure, worried now," you voiced your concerns, turning away to confront the reality that lingered beyond the stolen moments of passion. Heeseung, undeterred, gently made you face him again with his right hand, the left continuing its tender exploration of your hip.

"Don't worry, Princess. It's all taken care of," Heeseung reassured, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around you. Before you could decipher the cryptic assurance, Heeseung seized the moment, pulling you down for another kiss. The words that lingered on the tip of your tongue dissolved into the sweet oblivion of the kiss. Heeseung's actions spoke louder than any explanation he could provide, and you found yourself willingly surrendering to the enchantment of the moment.

Lost in the depths of the kiss, Heeseung tilted his head, deepening the connection between you. The world outside faded away, leaving only the echo of their entwined breaths and the lingering taste of a love that defied logic and reason. As the seconds slipped away, your concerns were momentarily silenced, replaced by the intoxicating allure of a passion that seemed to have been waiting for this moment to ignite.

As Heeseung held you in his lap, a surge of gratitude and contentment washed over him. He couldn't help but feel fortunate to have you, the only woman he had ever wanted, nestled in the cocoon of his arms. Your warmth against him felt like a cherished promise of a future you would share together.

The room around you seemed to fade away as Heeseung reveled in the moment. The soft rhythm of your breathing created a gentle melody, an unspoken connection that echoed the depth of your growing bond. He gently traced patterns on your back, savoring the feeling of your closeness, as if committing every nuance of the experience to memory.

In that intimate embrace, Heeseung couldn't imagine anything more perfect. You was his, and he was yours—bound together by an unbreakable thread that wove through the fabric of the shared existence. As he pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head, he whispered words that echoed the sincerity of his heart, "Forever and ever, my love."

END OF PART 1

Masterlist:

Part 2 & Part 3

#heeseung x reader #heeseung fanfic #heesung enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen #ghostface #heeseung x you #heeseung enhypen #heeseung x yn #enhypen fanfiction #writers on tumblr

291 notes · View notes