#I don’t want to grow up. I’m not ready | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

riboism · 18 hours ago

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unconditional

》 pairing: husband! k.ys x wife! reader x c.sn

》 plot: as you and yeosang celebrate your 10th wedding anniversary, everyone around you sees the perfect marriage. but behind closed doors, the cracks have been growing for years—until a new experiment in the bedroom changes everything.

》 content: smut, cuckolding, marriage, blowjob, vibrator, reverse cowgirl, multiple orgasms, basically you and yeosang were struggling with a boring sex life and now yeosang can’t get off without watching you get fucked by san first 😗

》 wc: 3.5k

🎧 unconditional- jaehyun

Yeosang's company was known for hosting the most sophisticated Christmas parties, and this year was no exception. The venue—a charming little club perched on the bay—had stunning views of the waterfront. Through its large windows, the boats docked outside swayed gently, their twinkling Christmas lights casting soft reflections on the dark water. In contrast with the serenity outside, the atmosphere inside buzzed with great energy. Sounds of the live jazz band playing holiday hits hung in the air. Couples took to the dance floor, swaying along to the rhythm. Mid-level employees stood in clusters, clutching untouched glasses of champagne, their unease showing through their fake smiles as their senior managers approached with cheerful insistence to “join the fun,” though they would smile politely, nodding along while doing their best to sidestep the pressure to drink.

Aside from the approaching holidays, this year brought plenty of reasons to celebrate. It marked your husband’s 10th anniversary at the firm—a milestone capped with yet another promotion—and also a decade of marriage for the two of you.

“What a lovely couple,” his coworkers would often remark, adding with a chuckle, “our very own Barbie and Ken.” And then there was your least favorite comment of all, inevitably delivered with a mix of curiosity and tease: “Ten years? What’s the secret?”

If only they knew.

“Ready to go, my love?” A deep, velvety voice hummed behind you. Yeosang’s hand slipped around your waist, his grasp firm as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

To anyone watching, your marriage seemed picture-perfect. But the truth was, it had been unraveling for years. The frequent business trips, the endless arguments, and the slow creep of boredom had eroded the bond you once shared. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things began to fall apart, but you both felt it: the dwindling attraction, the hollow excuses of “I’m tired” or “I have an early meeting in the morning” exchanged like lifeless darts. The distance had grown so vast that you began to sleep in separate beds, the physical space only echoing the emotional chasm between you.

Despite it all, you still clung to the hope that things could be salvaged. It had taken months of pleading to convince Yeosang to try marriage counseling. But even after he finally agreed, progress felt elusive. Each session, with its endless prompts of “how does that make you feel?” only seemed to peel back old wounds and stir up more tension, leaving both of you raw and resentful. It felt a lot like trying to douse a fire with gasoline.

Then, a couple of months ago, your counselor suggested something unexpected.

“Have you two thought about spicing things up in the bedroom?”

At first, you scoffed at the idea. How could sex—a physical act—fix the emotional disconnect that had formed between you? How could it erase the resentment, the boredom, the loneliness, or the simmering anger? It felt shallow, almost laughable. But as the weeks dragged on, you both found yourselves at a breaking point, too exhausted to deny the truth: the spark you’d once had was gone. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth trying anything to get it back.

Anything.

Little did you know, that seemingly poor advice was exactly the push you two needed. What started as a reluctant experiment turned into a rediscovery of the intimacy and connection you thought were lost forever. Bit by bit, the walls you had built began to crumble, and with them, the spark you once shared slowly reignited, flickering back to life.

Your hand reached around the curve of his back, rising on your tippy toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Let’s go.”

—

Yeosang reclined in his reading chair, legs parted with an easy confidence, his posture relaxed yet commanding. His gaze locked onto you, steady and intent, filling the space with an unspoken tension. The room was filled with your soft moans and squelches from your sopping cunt as San rubbed a purple vibrator over your clit gently, a Cheshire cat-like smile enveloping his features each time you squealed over him.

You laid across his bare chest, his strong, chiseled arms holding your legs open as he worked the toy over your sensitive spots. You liked San. Yeosang could tell. Though you've laid on this very bed with other men before, Yeosang noticed how well you responded to him compared to the others. He was undeniably attractive, yes, but the way you were with him—the excitement in your eyes, the way you rode him with such passion, letting out the prettiest, most lewd whines he’d ever heard—it was a done deal. Yeosang hired him as a gift for you, but it was more for him. San was his little plaything, a vessel for him to puppeteer. And you…well, you were just the main attraction.

Yeosang reached for his scotch glass on the side table, taking a long, slow sip, his eyes never leaving you for a moment. “Higher,” he demanded.

Without missing a beat, San pressed the little button on your vibrator, the increase in intensity making you gasp. You held in your screams, biting your lip until it was red. Yeosang frowned. He hated it when you did that.

“Higher.”

San pressed the button again. Your hands immediately grasped onto your sheets, the unforgiving buzzing between your legs becoming too much to handle. “Oh, fuck!” You choked, before pressing a hand over your mouth. Your eyes locked onto your core, unable to do anything but watch yourself be at the mercy of your husband and his puppet.

Yeosang tsked, slouching back into his chair as if he were watching his favorite team losing on TV. “Get her hand off her mouth.”

San did as instructed, pulling your hand away and holding it down so you wouldn’t be tempted to do it again. His chin rested against your shoulder, his lips parted in fascination as he watched your slick, wet juices coat the small toy. “C’mon honey,” he said in a low voice, “you know he likes to hear you.”

The beginning of the night was always difficult, getting used to having two sets of eyes on you as you undressed, and it took time for you to get comfortable enough to make any noises. You had been doing this with San for a few months, but each time felt like the first.

“Higher.”

Before you could protest, San increased the speed, the sharp buzzing almost knocking you out. “That’s as high as it goes,” San grinned, gripping you tighter as you convulsed in his arms.

“P-please, it’s too much!” You wailed, your abs tightening as you struggled to keep up.

And then, there it was. Your sweet melody made Yeosang’s ears perk up, and he leaned over as if he were trying to hear you more clearly. “That’s it,” he said, almost approvingly, “now make her cum.”

San pressed the toy harder onto your clit. You cursed and screamed, tears welling in your eyes as you grabbed onto San’s hand, torn between wanting to pull it off of you and wanting to hold on enough to meet your release. You knew it would make Yeosang happy if you held on, if you did whatever he wanted and did so obediently, but God, why did he have to make it so difficult for you?

A rush of heat swept over you, leaving sweat to prickle on your skin. Gripping onto him, you chased that release, pushing forward until your legs finally gave way, surrendering to the overwhelming wave of relief you had been craving all night. Exhausted, you collapsed back against San’s chest, melting into his embrace, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your chest rose and fell, the relentless buzzing finally leaving your achy core.

San caressed your thighs, his soft, pouty lips peppering light kisses on your neck, making his way to your jaw, until finally connecting with your lips. You kissed him lazily, still dizzy and tired from your orgasm to do anything more.

As your lips moved with him, your eyes stayed open, locking with your husband’s gaze from across the room, where he remained seated in the far corner. Yeosang bit the skin around his thumb, watching you intently with a gleam in his eye. Kissing wasn’t part of the deal, not initially, though he’d never stopped you when you did. You did it deliberately, knowing it would get under his skin, knowing how much he enjoyed being riled up.

San’s lips pulled away from yours, his gaze shifting to Yeosang. “What now, boss?”

Yeosang paused for a moment, mulling over his options. He tapped his foot lightly against the carpet, contemplating what he wanted to see next. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, crossing one foot over his knee, signaling he had made his decision. “It’s a special night,” he said coolly, his voice laced with authority. “Let her decide.”

It was an unexpected request, one that placed all the authority in your hands. It was unlike him to relinquish control like this, and the sudden shift left both of you stunned. Their gazes—intense and unwavering—fell onto you, waiting for you to speak. The spotlight felt unbearably hot, and a wave of shyness washed over you, making it difficult to find the words to make a demand. But as your eyes met your husband’s, and seeing the soft, approving nod he gave you, something stirred inside. You couldn’t help but embrace the power now in your grasp.

—

Yeosang tried to hide his smirk, his fingers brushing lightly over his lips as he watched you in amusement. You were fixed over San’s lap as he sat up on the edge of the bed, just a few feet away from Yeosang. His hands were secured onto your waist as you pumped yourself over him, using all the strength you had left in your knees to hold yourself up. Of course, you’d choose this position, Yeosang thought. You didn’t choose reverse cowgirl just because you liked it—in fact, it was probably the most exhausting position for you—but more so because you knew it was the only position where Yeosang would be forced to see your pussy being parted over San’s huge cock.

“Fuck, that’s so good!” You whined, letting out a few borderline pornographic moans out as you bounced on him. You leaned back into his chest, giving him access to your soft, needy breasts. San grabbed your breasts, taking a sensitive nipple into his mouth, and kneading the other with his free hand. You inhaled sharply as he nipped at your skin, head growing dizzy as he swirled his tongue while you fucked yourself dumb.

“Such a tight fucking cunt,” San growled into your skin, “gonna milk me dry, huh baby?”

You moaned in response, purposely widening your legs apart to make sure your husband got a good view. “Yes, want all your cum Sannie,” you breathed in that airy, sweet voice of yours that made Yeosang want to bite his knuckles off.

You knew exactly what you were doing, and Yeosang couldn’t help but applaud you for it. Seeing you like this—so perverse, so shameless—ignited a fire inside of him. It was this very fire, this surge of emotion, that had reignited the spark in your marriage. No, he didn’t invite men over to fuck you because he enjoyed getting cuckolded—in fact, he despised it. Took absolutely no pleasure in it. It all enraged him, watching you take another man’s dick so well, to cry over it, gag over it, and then beg for their cum in your pretty little mouth. No, if he could, he would pull San off of you right now and bash his head against the wall until he bled to death. But he held his composure and controlled the storm brewing inside him. Why? Because he thrived on that rage. It consumed him, a searing jealousy that only made him want you more. And you loved to make him mad.

Your movements were unsteady, hips slowing down, your breathing getting heavier, whines growing needier. Yeosang could tell you were getting close. He gripped his hand on his growing erection, grasping it tightly as he watched you unfold. Your eyes locked with his again, crying out as you came all over San’s cock. That same fire that burned inside Yeosang began to ignite within you as well. You shot your husband a teasing look, torn between the desire to provoke him further and the irresistible urge to run to him, to let him consume you completely, to punish you for enjoying yourself too much.

You hopped off his cock and lowered yourself between San’s legs, pulling off his condom and discarding it to the side before taking him into your mouth. San hissed, his lower half turning to mush as you bobbed on his length, swirling your tongue perfectly over his hardened tip. “Mmm…” you moaned, playing it up, as you massaged his swollen balls, each one tender with cum just waiting to spurt out. Although you couldn’t see him, you knew the tips of Yeosang’s ears were flaming red.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” San whimpered, before finally releasing himself into you. He moaned as his cock twitched in your mouth, eyes growing heavy as you swallowed every drop of him and licked his length clean. You gazed up at him, pleased to see his flushed cheeks and chest. You grabbed him at the base, slapping his tip on your lips, kissing in between while he shuddered from the touch.

Suddenly, a hand gripped your hair, pulling you away from his length. You looked up at your husband, noticing the faint flush of red on his ears, a clear sign that the patience he had maintained all evening had finally worn thin. His gaze remained fixed on you, sharp and terrifying, as he addressed San without breaking eye contact.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he said, his tone firm and controlled. “You may go now.”

San muttered a curse under his breath as he got dressed, clearly annoyed by the abrupt dismissal. Normally, you’d let him shower before leaving, but Yeosang was impatient. He couldn’t wait any longer—he needed his moment alone with you.

Now, with just the two of you left in the room, a tension settled in the air. Your gut tightened in anticipation, uncertain but exhilarated by what might happen next.

“Was I good?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you remained kneeling on the floor. Yeosang stood above you, his presence towering and commanding. He leaned down slightly, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his touch both firm and gentle.

“So good for me, doll,” he murmured, his voice soft and teasing as his thumb brushed over your cheek. You nuzzled into his palm, his warmth spreading through you like a comforting haze.

But just as quickly as the tender moment settled, it shifted. His grip tightened, fingers tangling in your hair before he pulled you up with a firm, swift motion, guiding you onto the bed. The sudden movement sent a shiver down your spine, the change in pace leaving you breathless. Tears pricked in your eyes from the pain.

His face was just millimeters away from you now, still holding onto your hair. “But you really pushed it, you know,” he said, his voice cool, but blowing with steam. “You really enjoyed yourself tonight, didn’t you darling?”

“You said I could-“

His free hand made it between your legs, fingers tracing over your achy, abused cunt. “Didn’t say you could suck him off though, did I? Or kiss him? You did that all on your own. You love having another man’s cock in your mouth, don’t you baby?”

You jutted your hips forward, still sensitive from your past two orgasms, but not failing to crave his touch. You tried to bite back a moan but failed. “Sangie…”

He touched you so carefully, so delicately, the feather-like brushes only enticing you more. Your hand reached out for him, rubbing on his clothed bulge, begging him for more with your half-lidded eyes. “...please.”

Yeosang chuckled softly, the sheer desperation in your voice alone making his knees weak. “Please what, baby?” he asked, his voice calm, too calm, a stark contrast to the fire simmering in his eyes. The measured tone sent another shiver down your spine, unsettling in its quiet intensity, as if he was daring you to bare everything to him. He knew what you wanted, your wetness over his fingers told him so, but he just wanted to hear you say it.

“I want you. Only you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Those three simple words sent a rush through him, igniting something primal and deeply satisfying. Watching you indulge in someone else’s touch, only to come crawling back to him and beg for his cock fueled an intoxicating mix of emotions—he felt loved, wanted, important, and powerful. As twisted as it seemed, it served as a visceral reminder that no matter what, you could only truly be his, just as he would only ever be yours. And the truth was, you didn’t mind giving him that reminder, again and again, if it meant rekindling the fire that burned solely between the two of you.

And now, here you were, exactly where you longed to be all night tonight, with your head pressed against the mattress by Yeosang’s firm hand, and your cunt filled with his thick, angry cock, each hard stroke making you scream into the sheets.

“Did it feel good, hmm? Fucking someone who isn’t me?” He said through gritted teeth, his grasp on your hair only getting tighter.

You stayed quiet—well, as quiet as you could—too flustered to answer him fully.

“Oh, don’t get shy now. You like it when I watch, don’t you baby? Like creaming on Sannie’s cock while your sweet husband's watching?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, feeling the sudden harshness in his thrusts at the sheer mention of San. You knew he loved humiliating you, but you still felt an urgent need to make him understand. “Please!” You cried out, your voice trembling, “He doesn’t matter. I just want you. Want your cock, no one else—Fuck, I love your fucking cock!”

Suddenly, the warmth of his cock left you, and he shifted himself onto his back, pulling your body onto him. He moved you so quickly, the sudden change making you dizzy and confused. “Yeah?” He panted, guiding his cock back into your wet folds. “Then show me. Show me how much you love my cock.”

You lowered yourself onto him, your soaked cunt swallowing him up with ease. He could feel you shaking, your pussy so overstimulated, but still so determined to feel his cock paint your walls. “That’s it, baby,” he purred, his hands grasping onto your waist, “Show me…show me how much you love it.”

Your hips rolled over him, rocking them back and forth jaggedly, so desperate to chase your climax and make a mess over him. You were so incoherent now, babbling utter nonsense through your dried-out, sore throat, the fullness of his cock being too much to bear.

Yeosang thumbed your clit, eyes locked on your sticky, wet folds, completely mesmerized at how stretched out your tiny little cunt got. “Show me…” he whispered, pressing his thumb harder into you, helping you reach your high quicker. Your eyes fluttered shut, then rolled back, the overwhelming sensation of pure bliss washing over you and consuming every inch of your being. Yeosang was satisfied, watching you remove yourself from him, his cock glistening with your juices as it sat against your throbbing pussy.

For a moment, the room was silent, his teasing demeanor giving way to something far more intense. Then, with a sudden, possessive motion, Yeosang pulled you down by your neck, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt. You melted into him, pouring every ounce of longing and love into the moment, hoping it would be enough to show him the truth.

“I only want you,” you breathed against his lips, the words trembling with raw honesty as you refused to pull away. Yet, deep inside, that familiar shame and heartbreak began to creep in, just like it always did at the end of these experiments.

You weren’t entirely sure if you enjoyed any of it—if this was something you truly wanted. But that didn’t matter as much as seeing him happy, as much as keeping that flicker of connection alive between you both, no matter the cost. Though he had only been teasing earlier, you wanted to ensure he never forgot—no matter who entered this bedroom, you were his, and he was yours. Yeosang's fingertips trailed gently down your back, each touch making you feel warm and safe, wrapping you in a quiet reassurance. “I know, honey,” he murmured against your lips, his voice soft yet possessive. “No one can love you as much as I do right now.”

a/n: reblogs and feedback are appreciated

#yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #yeosang scenarios #yeosang fanfic #san smut #san x reader #san scenarios #ateez smut

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hookhausenschips · 2 days ago

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The Edge of Defiance

Chapter 6 of The Game Of Seduction

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Summary: In this chapter, Y/N grows restless in the quiet monotony of recovery at Lando's condo, feeling trapped by her circumstances and eager to regain her autonomy. Despite Lando's protective objections and concerns about her physical readiness and the condition of her apartment, Y/N firmly asserts her independence, leading to a tense confrontation that underscores their conflicting perspectives and the unspoken complexities of their relationship. Their argument is laced with unresolved tension, past trauma, and Y/N’s determination to reclaim control over her life, even as Lando’s care reveals deeper layers of concern and possibly unacknowledged feelings.

WC: 4.9k

Warnings: Mafia Dealings, Emotional Confrontation, References to Violence or Trauma, Injury/Recovery, Conflict in Relationships

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It had been nearly a week since the fight with Malik, and the tension in Lando’s condo had finally begun to ease. Y/N was healing, her injuries no longer the sharp reminders they had been but now dull aches she could tolerate.

The days had fallen into a quiet rhythm: meals shared in silence, brief moments of conversation, and the occasional sharp glance from Lando when she pushed herself too hard.

But Y/N wasn’t built for stillness, and she could feel the walls closing in on her.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, absently picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her hoodie. Across the room, Lando was leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze fixed on her like he was waiting for her to drop some kind of bombshell.

“I’m going back to my apartment,” Y/N said abruptly, breaking the silence.

Lando’s brow furrowed, his posture stiffening. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she replied, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I’ve been here long enough. It’s time to go back to my own place.”

He crossed his arms, his expression darkening. “You’re not ready for that.”

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Ready? I didn’t realize I needed permission to live in my own damn apartment.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Lando said, his voice dropping. “You’re still recovering, and your place is barely livable. What’s the rush?”

“The rush,” Y/N said, standing now, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “is that I have my own place. And in case you forgot, I’m not dating you, I haven’t moved in here, and I don’t intend to. This has been... cozy, but I’ve got my own space, and I want it back.”

---

She had a way of making every logical argument sound ridiculous, and it drove me insane.

“This isn’t about you staying here,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s about making sure you’re safe. You’re still hurt, Y/N. And your apartment isn’t exactly secure.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag from the floor. “I appreciate the concern, Norris, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it long before you showed up.”

Her words stung more than I cared to admit. “You think this is about me wanting to control you?”

She shot me a pointed look. “You’re blocking the door, aren’t you?”

I sighed, stepping aside reluctantly. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when you realize this is a mistake.”

---

The ride to Y/N’s apartment was tense, neither of them saying much. Lando drove, his jaw tight as he navigated the city streets. Y/N stared out the window, her fingers tapping against her thigh in an erratic rhythm.

When they arrived, the building looked the same as always, but Y/N’s stomach twisted as she stepped out of the car.

Lando followed her to the door, his presence a quiet but heavy reminder of their earlier argument.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said as she unlocked the door.

“I know,” she replied without looking back. “But I want to.”

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

---

The air inside was heavy, stale, and full of memories I didn’t want to deal with yet.

The living room was a mess—glass shards still glittered on the floor, and the splintered remains of the doorframe were a stark reminder of what had happened.

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This was my place. My chaos. I could fix it.

Behind me, Lando lingered in the doorway, his arms crossed as he surveyed the wreckage. “It’s worse than I thought.”

I glanced back at him, raising a brow. “You should’ve seen it before the first clean-up. It had a certain ‘post-apocalyptic charm.’”

He didn’t laugh, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” I said, walking further inside. “This is my space, Lando. I’m not letting Malik—or anyone else—take it away from me.”

---

Lando stepped inside cautiously, watching as Y/N began to pick up the broken pieces of her apartment.

She moved with purpose, her every action deliberate as she cleared the debris and set things right. But there was a tension in her shoulders, a weight she was trying to hide.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Lando said after a while, his voice quieter now.

Y/N looked at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I know. But I need to. This isn’t your fight, Lando. It never was.”

“It became my fight the moment you walked into my world,” he replied, his tone firm.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

---

It took hours to clean up the mess, but I felt better with every piece of glass I swept away and every overturned chair I set upright.

By the time I collapsed onto the couch, the apartment looked almost normal. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine again.

Lando sat down on the armrest, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the room. “You’ve made progress.”

“Damn right, I have,” I said, leaning back with a tired smile. “And before you ask—no, I’m not moving back into your condo. This is my space.”

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “You’re nothing if not stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one,” I shot back.

---

Lando stood, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looked down at her. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re insane for coming back here so soon.”

“Noted,” Y/N replied with a grin.

“But,” he continued, his voice softening, “I’m glad you’re okay. And for the record, you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, her tone losing its usual edge. “Thanks for helping me, Lando. I mean it.”

He nodded, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “Don’t mention it.”

As he turned to leave, Y/N watched him go, a faint warmth settling in her chest.

She wouldn’t admit it to him, but having him there—even for a little while—made her feel less alone.

---

Y/N waited until the sound of Lando’s car faded into the distance before pulling out her phone. She sat cross-legged on her couch, her fingers tapping against the edge of her phone case as she stared at Max’s name on the screen.

This wasn’t a call she wanted to make, but she didn’t have a choice.

With a resigned sigh, she tapped the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

It didn’t take long for Max to pick up.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, skipping the pleasantries. “Too quiet.”

“Yeah, well,” Y/N replied, leaning back against the couch. “I’ve been busy handling my life.”

“Handling it or running from it?” Max asked, his tone sharp.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you have a point, or is this just a check-in to see if I’m still breathing?”

“I have your next mission,” Max said, cutting straight to the point.

Y/N’s posture stiffened, her fingers tightening around the phone. “Go on.”

---

“Mercedes and McLaren have been getting too cozy,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “We’ve been hearing whispers of a potential deal between them, something that could shift the balance in their favor. We need to know what it is.”

“And let me guess,” Y/N said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You want me to find out.”

“Correct,” I replied. “There’s a warehouse near the docks, one of McLaren’s quieter operations. Our intel says there’s a file there—something that details the negotiations between McLaren and Mercedes. I need you to get it.”

She let out a low whistle. “Breaking into a McLaren warehouse? You really don’t like me, do you?”

“This isn’t personal,” I said, though we both knew that wasn’t entirely true. “It’s important. If they finalize this deal, it could set us back significantly.”

---

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a slow breath. “And what’s the plan if I get caught? You going to swoop in and save me?”

“No,” Max said bluntly. “That’s why you’re not getting caught.”

“Great,” I muttered. “No pressure or anything.”

“You’re the best we’ve got, Y/N,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “That’s why you’re in this position. I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

I didn’t respond right away, my mind already running through the logistics. Breaking into a McLaren warehouse wasn’t just risky—it was reckless. But it was also the job, and I didn’t back down from challenges.

“Fine,” I said finally. “Send me the details.”

“You’ll have them within the hour,” Max replied. “And Y/N? Don’t let me down.”

I hung up without responding, tossing the phone onto the coffee table as I leaned back against the couch.

What the hell have I gotten myself into now?

---

True to his word, Max sent the details of the mission within the hour. Y/N studied the information carefully, her mind piecing together a plan as she packed a small bag with everything she’d need.

Her fingers hovered over the knife she’d taken from Lando’s office, the blade still sharp and pristine.

He’d lose his mind if he knew what I was doing.

The thought made her smirk, but it quickly faded as the weight of the mission settled over her. This wasn’t just about proving herself to Max or the Redbull family—it was about survival.

If she failed, it wasn’t just her cover that would be blown.

It was everything.

---

The warehouse was going to be heavily guarded—that much was obvious. McLaren didn’t do anything halfway, and if this file was as important as Max made it seem, they’d have people watching it.

I’d need to be fast, quiet, and—above all—careful.

I double-checked my gear, slipping the knife into its sheath and securing it at my hip. The pistol went into the holster at my back, concealed beneath the loose hoodie I wore.

The plan was risky, but I’d pulled off worse.

I just had to hope my luck held out.

---

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the city, Y/N stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the skyline. The city buzzed with life, oblivious to the chaos brewing beneath its surface.

Her phone buzzed again, a final message from Max:

We’re counting on you.

She stared at the words for a moment before deleting the message.

This wasn’t just about the Redbull family or their war with McLaren. This was about proving to herself that she could do this, that she could survive in a world where trust was a liability and weakness was a death sentence.

She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

The night was just beginning, and Y/N was ready.

---

The air near the docks was sharp and biting, carrying the distinct tang of salt and oil. The warehouse loomed ahead, a hulking steel giant bathed in the glow of scattered floodlights. It was the kind of place that whispered secrets into the dark—if you knew how to listen.

Y/N crouched behind a stack of rusting shipping containers, her hood drawn low and her fingers gripping the hilt of her knife. Her breath was slow and steady, her eyes scanning the perimeter. Two guards stood by the main entrance, their postures lax, their focus minimal. A third patrolled along the side of the building, his flashlight swinging lazily.

She smirked to herself. Amateurs.

Sliding out from behind the container, she moved silently, her footsteps muffled by the damp ground. The side entrance was her target—an unmonitored door just outside the camera’s sweep.

Reaching the door, she pulled a slim lock-pick from her pocket and got to work. The lock clicked open in seconds, and she slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her.

Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with the metallic scent of machinery. Rows of crates and pallets stretched out before her like a labyrinth, shadows dancing in the faint glow of overhead lights.

Y/N crouched, scanning the catwalks above for movement. A guard paced slowly, his flashlight cutting arcs through the shadows. She waited, counting his steps until he turned away, then darted between the crates.

The office was her destination, tucked into the far corner of the warehouse. Her intel said the file would be there—evidence of McLaren’s dealings with Mercedes. It was the kind of information that could shift the balance of power, and Y/N was here to claim it.

She moved with purpose, her steps deliberate and silent. Every corner, every sound was measured and assessed, her confidence unwavering. This was her domain—the shadows, the game of cat and mouse.

What she didn’t know was that she wasn’t alone.

---

The air near the docks was cold, heavy with the tang of salt and diesel. The warehouse loomed in the distance, its steel walls glinting faintly under the glow of scattered floodlights. A symphony of muffled machinery, distant waves, and occasional footsteps filled the silence.

Y/N crouched behind a stack of shipping containers, her figure hidden by the dark, unassuming clothes she wore—a simple black hoodie, cargo pants, and a mask that covered the lower half of her face. She’d chosen her attire carefully, ensuring that even if someone spotted her, they wouldn’t recognize her.

Her eyes scanned the perimeter. Two guards at the main entrance, another circling the building’s side, and one stationed near the back. Predictable. Easy.

She adjusted the strap of her bag, where her tools and a small weapon were tucked securely. This file better be worth it, Max, she thought, slipping into the shadows and toward the side entrance.

---

Breaking into a place like this wasn’t new to me.

I kept low, my movements silent as I reached the side door. The camera above it swept lazily across the area, its range limited. Timing its arc, I slipped into its blind spot and crouched by the lock.

Pulling out my lock-picking tools, I worked quickly. The mechanism was cheap—whoever set up security here didn’t expect professionals. Within seconds, the lock clicked open, and I pushed the door ajar, slipping inside.

The air inside was colder, the faint hum of machinery echoing through the vast space. Crates and pallets were stacked in neat rows, forming a maze that stretched out into the shadows. Overhead, metal catwalks crisscrossed the warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights.

I took a slow breath, letting the shadows settle over me like a second skin. The office was on the far side of the building, a small glass box elevated on a platform. That’s where the file would be.

---

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

Oscar had flagged the warehouse as a potential weak point in our operations, so I’d decided to check it out personally. It was quiet tonight, just a skeleton crew of guards. Exactly how I liked it—quick, efficient, and private.

From the catwalk above, I surveyed the floor, noting the layout and the guards’ routes. It all seemed routine until I spotted movement below.

Someone darted between the crates, their figure quick and silent, dressed in black from head to toe.

My body tensed, and my instincts kicked in. This wasn’t a worker or a guard.

An intruder.

I moved along the catwalk, keeping my distance as I tracked their movements. Whoever they were, they were good—calculated, confident, and precise.

But not invisible.

---

Breaking into a place like this wasn’t new to me.

---

The office door was locked—naturally—but locks were rarely a problem for me. I slipped the pick from my pocket and crouched by the door, working quickly.

The mechanism clicked, and I eased the door open, stepping inside and shutting it softly behind me.

The office was cramped, cluttered with papers, folders, and a desk piled high with files. A single computer sat in the corner, its screen locked but still glowing faintly.

I went straight for the filing cabinets, my hands moving efficiently through the drawers. Pens, invoices, shipment records—nothing useful.

It wasn’t until I reached the second drawer that I found it: a slim folder labeled with a cryptic code that matched Max’s intel.

I opened it briefly, my eyes scanning the contents. Negotiation notes. Shipment details. Signatures. Bingo.

I slipped the file into my bag, zipping it closed.

And then I heard it.

A voice crackled over the warehouse intercom, distorted but clear: “Patrol teams to the main office. Possible intruder detected.”

My stomach dropped.

---

The faint sound of footsteps reached my ears, growing louder with every passing second. Someone was coming—several someones, by the sound of it.

I cursed under my breath, glancing around the office. There was no back exit, no easy way out.

I pressed myself into the shadows near the door, my hand hovering over the knife at my hip.

Stay calm. Think.

The door opened, and two guards stepped inside, their flashlights cutting through the dim space.

“Boss said to double-check the office,” one of them muttered. “Could’ve sworn he saw something.”

I stayed perfectly still, my breath shallow as they scanned the room.

---

From the catwalk, I watched as the guards entered the office.

The intruder had slipped in just moments earlier, their movements so fluid I almost admired them. Almost.

I signaled to the guards below, pointing them toward the office. If this was a thief or a spy, they wouldn’t make it out.

But something about this person gnawed at me. The way they moved, the confidence in their steps—it was... familiar.

Still, I stayed silent, waiting to see how they’d handle being cornered.

---

The guards moved deeper into the office, their flashlights sweeping across the room.

Y/N waited, her body tense as they came closer. When one of them turned his back to her, she made her move.

She struck quickly, her knife pressed against the guard’s throat before he could react.

“Quiet,” she hissed, her voice low and distorted by the mask. “Or you won’t get a second warning.”

The second guard froze, his flashlight dropping as he reached for his weapon.

“Don’t,” Y/N warned, shifting her position so the first guard shielded her.

The second guard hesitated, his hand hovering over his holster.

Y/N shoved the first guard into him, knocking them both off balance, and darted out of the office.

---

The intruder burst out of the office, moving faster than I expected.

The guards scrambled after them, shouting warnings that echoed through the warehouse.

I followed from above, my eyes locked on their figure as they weaved through the maze of crates.

Whoever they were, they were good.

Too good.

---

Y/N was almost at the exit, her heart pounding as she darted between the crates. She felt it before she heard it—someone else was following her. Not the guards, whose footsteps were heavy and clumsy. This was someone quieter, faster, and far more dangerous.

Her pulse quickened as she glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of a figure descending from the catwalks above.

Her jaw tightened. Who the hell is that?

The figure moved with precision, cutting off her path to the side door. Y/N pivoted, ready to change direction, but he was too quick. They collided with force, the impact sending her stumbling back.

Before she could recover, he lunged, grabbing her wrist as her knife flashed between them.

---

I twisted hard, my free hand striking out as I tried to break his grip. He was strong, stronger than I expected, and every move I made was met with an equally skilled counter.

His hand clamped around my wrist, forcing my knife away from his body.

“Not bad,” I muttered under my breath, the words muffled by my mask.

His eyes narrowed, his voice sharp. “Who are you?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I shifted my weight, kicking out hard. My boot caught him in the knee, just enough to throw him off balance.

He stumbled but didn’t let go, his grip tightening as he spun us around.

---

The intruder wasn’t just good—they were trained. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, and relentless.

They twisted again, their knife slashing toward my side. I dodged, the blade grazing my jacket, but I managed to shove them back into the crates.

“Who sent you?” I demanded, my voice cold.

They didn’t respond, their masked face giving nothing away. Instead, they came at me again, their knife flashing in the dim light.

The fight was fast and brutal, every strike and counterstrike a test of skill. I felt the sting of a cut on my forearm, but I ignored it, focusing on disarming them.

---

The struggle between them was fierce, the clash of steel and the scuffle of boots on concrete echoing through the warehouse.

Y/N fought with everything she had, her movements fluid and unrelenting. Lando countered with equal ferocity, his instincts honed from years of experience.

A crate toppled over as Y/N spun, using the environment to her advantage. She lunged, her knife slicing close enough to tear through the fabric of Lando’s shirt.

He retaliated, his fist catching her shoulder and sending her stumbling back.

Both of them were breathing hard now, blood staining their clothes from small but deliberate wounds.

---

I had to end this.

It wasn’t just some guard. I’d realized that the moment he blocked my first strike with precision that no hired muscle could manage. This was Lando.

His movements were sharp, efficient, and damn near impossible to counter. Every step I took, every calculated strike, was met with an equally brutal response. He wasn’t trying to subdue me—he was trying to figure out who I was.

That couldn’t happen.

My mind raced, adrenaline pounding through me as I reassessed. Lando wasn’t a target, and fighting him wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

I needed to move. To escape.

I feinted left, drawing his attention with a quick flick of my knife. His body shifted instinctively to block, and that was all the opening I needed. Twisting hard, I wrenched myself free of his grip, my feet already moving as I slipped around him.

For a split second, I hesitated.

My instincts screamed at me to press the attack, to strike before he could recover. But this wasn’t about taking him down. It was about getting out—alive and unidentified.

There wasn’t time.

---

Lando cursed, his hand flying out to grab her, but she was already gone, darting between the crates with a speed that left him no time to react.

Y/N moved like a shadow, her figure barely visible as she disappeared into the maze of the warehouse.

The guards, alerted by the commotion, converged on her position, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.

She didn’t slow.

With calculated precision, she took them down one by one—an elbow to the temple here, a sweep of the leg there. Each move was efficient and brutal, leaving the guards sprawled on the ground as she made her way to the exit.

By the time she burst through the side door and into the night, her breaths were coming fast and ragged.

---

I reached the exit just in time to see the intruder vanish into the shadows.

My side ached, and my arm was slick with blood from the cut they’d landed, but that wasn’t what bothered me most.

Whoever they were, they weren’t just some random thief. They’d known exactly what they were doing, and they’d been after something specific.

As I stared into the darkness, one thought echoed in my mind.

Who the hell are you?

---

The docks were silent by the time Y/N made it to the drop-off point. Tucked away between two abandoned warehouses, the location was as unassuming as it was isolated.

She crouched near a rusted steel container, her movements deliberate as she pulled the file from her bag. The sharp pain in her arm flared as she moved, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it.

Placing the file into the secure lockbox Max had described, she stood and glanced around once more. The faint glow of streetlights in the distance cast eerie shadows across the empty lot.

No loose ends.

With the mission complete, Y/N melted into the shadows, vanishing into the night.

---

The McLaren estate was as grand as ever, its sprawling grounds meticulously maintained, and the air buzzing with the quiet efficiency of the staff. Y/N arrived mid-morning, her steps light but her mind heavy.

She’d wrapped her injured arm carefully, the white bandage hidden beneath the sleeve of a fitted leather jacket. Though the cut wasn’t deep, it was obvious enough to draw attention if someone looked too closely.

And Lando always looked too closely.

As she entered the main hall, she spotted him at the far end, leaning against a marble counter in conversation with Oscar. He looked as composed as ever, his signature curls slightly disheveled, a cup of coffee in one hand.

The sight of him brought back the previous night in an instant—the fight, the way he’d moved, the close call.

But he didn’t know.

He couldn’t.

Y/N squared her shoulders and approached, her usual confidence firmly in place.

---

I noticed her the moment she walked in.

Y/N had a way of commanding attention without trying—her confidence, the way she moved, like she belonged wherever she chose to be.

But today, something was different.

She was holding herself a little too carefully, her posture stiff in a way that most people wouldn’t catch. And then there was her arm.

The faint bulge of a bandage beneath her jacket sleeve didn’t escape my notice.

My eyes narrowed slightly as she reached us, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“Morning, boys,” she said, her tone casual as she leaned against the counter beside Oscar.

“You’re in a good mood,” Oscar said, raising a brow.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she replied smoothly.

---

Lando’s gaze lingered on her arm, his mind racing. He didn’t ask about it immediately—he knew Y/N well enough to know she wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

But something about the timing was off.

The night before, a skilled intruder had broken into one of McLaren’s key warehouses. The guards’ reports had been vague, but Lando didn’t need details to know whoever it was had been dangerous.

And now Y/N shows up with a freshly bandaged arm?

It didn’t sit right.

“Everything okay?” Lando asked casually, his tone light but probing.

“Never better,” Y/N said, her smirk widening as she met his gaze.

He didn’t look away, his eyes darkening as suspicion took root.

“Funny,” he said after a pause. “I heard there was some trouble at the docks last night.”

Y/N’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered, her laugh light and dismissive. “Trouble at the docks? Sounds like your security needs an upgrade.”

Lando didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking to her arm again.

“What happened to your arm?” he asked, his voice sharper now.

---

My chest tightened, but I didn’t let it show.

“Cut myself,” I said easily, gesturing vaguely. “Kitchen accident. You know, knives can be tricky.”

Lando didn’t look convinced.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, the intensity in his gaze making my stomach churn. For a moment, I thought he might press further, might connect the dots right there and then.

But instead, he leaned back, his smirk returning, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Be careful,” he said, his tone deceptively smooth. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt again.”

His words felt like a challenge, and I forced myself to meet his gaze without flinching.

“I’ll try,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tension simmering between us.

---

As Y/N turned to leave, Lando watched her go, his mind racing.

The timing of her injury, the break-in, and her evasiveness didn’t feel like a coincidence.

He tapped his fingers against the counter, his jaw tightening as he considered the implications.

If it was her...

His thoughts were interrupted by Oscar, who spoke quietly. “Something doesn’t add up, does it?”

“No,” Lando said, his voice low.

And not for the first time, doubt crept into his mind—not just about Y/N’s story, but about who she really was.

To be continued...

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Series Taglist: @laptime-deleted, @planet-faerie, @iloveotters11, @anamiad00msday

LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar, @fadingcloudballoon-blog, @same1995, @hinamesgigantica, @laptime-deleted, @planet-faerie, @iloveotters11. @anamiad00msday

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watarfallar · 1 day ago

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Is it bad that when I was walking down the street one day and saw a poppy growing out of a patch of weeds, my brain short circuited? Is that bad? Oh well, have some crumbs for your troubles.

Grian: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free: pouring river water in your socks! Scar: Why would I do that? Grian: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free!

Scar, texting Grian: Text me when you’re home safely. Grian: I’m home dangerously. Scar: Stop it. Grian: I’m home lethally.

Scar, trying their first ever cup of coffee: I am ENERGY! Grian, an avid coffee drinker, on their twelfth cup of the day: Someone slap me awake or I am literally going to fall into a coma in ten seconds.

Scar: Ugh, there’s always that weak bitch in the group who isn’t down with murder. Scar: glares at Grian Grian: Well, sorry I have morals!

Grian: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask why. Scar: Only if you also don't ask why. Scar: pulls four pristine human skulls out of their bag Grian: … Grian, grabbing a skull: This one will do.

Grian: What is the one thing I told you not to do? Scar: Burn the house down. Grian: And what did you do? Scar: I made dinner. Grian: Scar: Grian: Scar: And burnt the house down.

Grian: Love makes people do stupid things. Scar: I love everything! Grian: That explains a lot.

Scar: What am I supposed to do? Grian: If I were you? I’d try and make peace with whatever deity, pantheon, or Divine Other you believe in. Scar: I’m an atheist. Grian: Then just get ready to die I guess.

Grian: You know what your problem is? Scar: I only have one?

Scar: Present your best argument for eating bacon. Grian: If animals don’t want to be eaten, then why are they made of food?

Scar: Isn’t it a bit dangerous? Grian: Scar, please. We’ve in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt. Scar: … Grian: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt. Scar: … Grian: Alright, we escaped unhurt once… Then we hurt ourselves on the way home.

Scar: Hey, Grian, when you wake up you're legally obligated to agree with me. Grian: But I don't….. Scar: I don't see why that should be my problem??

Grian: There’s no “I” in team, but there is one in pizza. Scar: So, you’re not going to share? Grian: I’m not going to share.

Scar: I'm trash. Grian: As someone who's environmentally conscious, it's my duty to pick you up. Does 7 work for you? Scar: Scar: You smooth motherfucker. Scar: And yes it does.

Grian: on the phone Just snap his kneecaps and he’ll talk, I’m at a parent teacher conference. Grian: Anyways, you said Scar is enjoying finger painting! That's great.

Scar: A-are you sure this is safe?! Grian: Oh, quit being such a baby. It’s perfectly safe! …For me!

Grian: I’m Grian. I’m an accountant. Scar: I’m Scar. I have a knife.

Scar: I can’t do this, it’s against my moral compass. Grian: YOUR MORAL COMPASS IS A ROULETTE WHEEL! Scar: …Your point?

Grian: Scar, no. Scar: Scar, yes.

Scar: Do you have ANY idea what’s going on outside?! Grian: Judging by your outrage, I’d guess someone’s having fun?

Scar: Shut up, you’re messing with my train of thought! Grian: I thought you didn’t have a brain and now you say you have thoughts?

Scar: Two wrongs don’t make a right. Grian: sighs That’s true… Grian: But to negatives make a positive!!!

Grian: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart? Scar: For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am! Grian: Mean.

Grian: Hey, about that love letter you sent me- Scar: blushes What are your thoughts? Grian: The fourth sentence- Scar: Yeah, that’s where I got really emotional and I- Grian: It’s “you’re” not “your”.

#grian #gtws #incorrect quotes #desert duo #scarian #enjoy💜💜💜

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seoulbye · 2 days ago

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FINDING EQUILIBRIUM · GOJO SATORU

( PLAY EPISODE 2 : GIVE ME A MEOWTINI. ) gojo’s friends have gotten tired of the constant flaking and random rain checks. and because of it, gojo's starting to see the cat miraculous more as a curse than anything else now | watch time : 3.8k words.

── chat noir!gojo satoru & student!reader, akumatized!geto, ladybug!unknown character, mentions of alcoholic beverages, slightly dramatic gojo, features geto suguru, shoko ieiri & nanami kento, etc.

note. give me a meowtini, please... shaken, not purred! pur!

Thursdays and the weekends are the only days that Gojo, Geto, and Shoko have any availability to hang out outside of classes. Unfortunately for Gojo, most of those days, Hawk Moth likes to interrupt his plans, and he always has to make a rain check. Oftentimes, he felt guilty, but Plagg would always assure him that it was for the greater good and for the safety of the world. And while Gojo couldn’t and wouldn’t question, it grew tiresome to always have to come up with an excuse for his sudden departure.

Geto and Shoko would ask where he was going and what could have possibly come up at the last minute to send him off in a hurry, and he’d always have to throw some absurd excuse out there before running off without further explanation. He could see their growing annoyance the more time had passed. He’d be sitting down before his shoulders suddenly stiffen up and each excuse would start with an “uh.” They’d give each other an annoyed look before sending Gojo on his way, no longer bothering to ask what came up. This was typical Gojo behavior now. It’s a surprise that they still even invite him out.

They’re sitting in this small pizzeria that looks like it has many health violations. Two boxes of pepperoni pizza, one empty and the next halfway there— most of it eaten by the two men while Shoko only got three slices. It comes to a surprise that the white-headed boy is still with them, leaning back in the cushioned booth seats as he reaches for another slice of the too greasy pizza. He should really stop, but it’s just too good to. They’ve been catching him up about all the things that he’s missed, their voices chirpy but keeping an alerted gaze on him. They’re ready for one chime from his phone, for his shoulders to stiffen and his posture to straighten. But, there’s none of that.

It makes Geto skeptical the most, eyes squinting at his best friend in sheer curiosity and disbelief as he hums. Shoko continues on with her story about her shitty professor, reaching for her glass of lemonade when Geto interrupts her. “Are you alright, ‘Toru?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Gojo nods. “Yeah, I’m all good. Why?”

“You’re usually gone by this time,” Geto says. “Nothing up with your dad or anything?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p.’ Then, he chuckles, knowing the direction of this conversation and where it’s going. Shoko silently listens in, clearing her throat from the tartness of the lemonade. “Nothing this time around… Unless, you want me gone.”

“I didn’t say that,” Geto frowns. “I’m just wondering if everything’s alright with you.”

“We’re wondering if everything’s alright with you,” Shoko corrects, chiming into the conversation. “This is the first time you’ve broken your streak of bailing out on us and we want to know if everything is alright.”

They’ve asked this question before— countless times over. Gojo always fanned it off and played it cool. Just telling them, You know, my dad and everything. Or, I just forgot about this one assignment I had to do and I don’t want the professors to kill me. Sometimes they’d catch him in a lie and try to press him for more information, but he’d dodge them all. Underneath the table, Gojo fidgets with his fingers as he knows he can’t keep this up for much longer. At some point, they’ll grow tired of him and that bond they both had since childhood would start to weaken. And, he’ll be all alone. Again.

“Everything’s alright,” he grits through his teeth in a low voice. “I just—”

“You’d tell us if something is the matter, right?” Shoko leans forward. Geto knows everything about Gojo— what makes him tick, what keeps him breathing, what makes him happy or sad, and when he’s lying. And he’s lying right now.

He’s had his suspicions for a while now. Every time he disappeared, not too long after are there news reports of Chat Noir and Ladybug fighting another villain. He’s seen the heroes in action as well. Strikingly white hair and bright blue eyes that were so unique to him that it couldn’t be anyone else. He knows it’s Gojo, and Geto knows that Shoko has her suspicions as well. They’ve talked about it— briefly, but they’ve voiced enough similarities between the hero and their friend to come up with a jurisdiction. Just, why wouldn’t he admit it? Why did he have to keep lying? “Are you hiding something from us?”

He couldn’t keep it in anymore. The question digging in his mind, begging him to ask and wait for Gojo’s answer. Gojo tenses up, holding his breath as his eyes flicker everywhere but to his two friends. His chest starts to heave and he groans inwardly at his best friend. He’s always been so intuitive and Gojo knows that he can try to diverge from the conversation all he wants, Geto will always have a sneaking suspicion. So, he sighs.

“No,” he says against his better judgment, watching as both Shoko and Geto’s shoulders drop at the blatant lie. Geto sneers at Gojo, reaching for another slice of pizza.

As much as he’d like to continue pressing his friend for more and to yell at him for his stupidity, he decides that he won’t. Instead, responding with a nod and a mere, “okay.”

The rest of the lunch is awfully quiet, the three of them barely uttering out anything over three words. Gojo would try to start a conversation up, asking Shoko to continue on with her story, but to no avail. This time, it’s their turn to create lousy excuses as they push back their chairs. The legs crying out harshly against the tiled floors as they stand and make a beeline for the door. They leave Gojo to pay for the bill as he initially promised— an apology for all his impromptu ditchings— and without a goodbye, they leave Gojo alone.

The pizzeria has always been a small restaurant, leaving only the college student and the employee watching the entire course of events play. He diverts his eyes when Gojo turns his head in his direction, finding work somewhere else in the kitchen to pass the time before sliding over the bill, a look of pity on his face throughout the short encounter. Sliding his card, Gojo lets out a sigh as he finishes the rest of the pizza by himself. And, Plagg— the otherworldly friend peaks out from his special spot in Gojo’s bag when the coast is all clear. He feels guilty for the sad exchange, whispering a small, “I’m sorry, Satoru.”

Gojo doesn’t answer. Just wallowing as he finishes the rest of his pizza.

—

“What’s got you feeling so fur-ocious?” Gojo chides, leaving his dimple prominent as he lands on the roof with agility. In his black suit that stretches, he’s on all fours as he stays on alert, not liking the menacing look that the akumatized villain gives him. In an all gray suit lined and threaded with zippers, an elastic balaclava to hide his features, it’s hair to detect just who the victim is today, but it didn’t take Gojo more than a couple of seconds to realize who it is. Piercing brown eyes that stare back at him with such venom, they’re distinguishing enough for him to know that it’s his best friend under that mask.

It takes everything in Gojo not to falter and break this facade, but he straightens his posture just in time as Ladybug comes into the scene. Geto has his teeth bared out right at both of them as he has poor innocent victims running around soundless and in fear, eyebrows furrowed as his fists ball up tightly. “I bet you two enjoy lying to everyone, don’t you?”

Standing tall with her hand on her hip, Ladybug cocks her head to the side, looking down at Chat Noir. “What’s got him so mad?”

He shrugs, “From what I understand, he’s mad about liars. Been going everywhere and zipping everyone’s mouth shut the moment he detects them not telling the truth.”

It cuts having to lie, even to Ladybug herself. However, they’ve both agreed that for the safety of each other and their identities, it best not to reveal to each other anything compromising that could detail each other’s identity on the off-chance they get akumatized. Anyone that possibly knew could breach their identity and lead them straight into Hawk Moth’s hands.

Gojo’s imagined it before, and he’s sure that Ladybug has, too. Imagine what it would be like to tell your friends and those who you trust the most, but hasn’t every superhero movie revealed that it’s always a bad move. It puts everyone at risk— not just the heroes themselves. When Gojo was trusted with the Cat Miraculous, he thought it was a gift— an honor to be given something so powerful because of his character. However, looking at Geto, or The Zipper, he’s starting to feel like it has become a curse.

“You don’t care who you hurt in the process,” the Zipper sneers. “Just as long as it’s all about you still—” He grows angrier with every growing second, Hawk Moth egging him on through the akuma moth. He grits his teeth as all he can see is red, the controlling villain in his ear saying, Get those Miraculouses. “—Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen anymore.”

Gojo can recall when Shoko was akumatized. It was over something that transpired because of a particular professor that kept on giving her bad grades. It was comical seeing her akumatized, running straight towards the old man with a vengeance for better treatment and better grades. Dr. Daisy was her villain name, a cruel weapon to the man that was allergic to pollen and had an irritated nose, but it gave Shoko the satisfaction and Chat Noir the giggles. If he could, he would never make Shoko live it down.

However, this isn’t Dr. Daisy and the look in Geto’s eyes doesn’t speak to petty vengeances over a simple friendship squabble. This one speaks more volume as both Chat Noir and Ladybug can feel the heavy tension looming over them. Chat Noir looks over at Ladybug with a sheepish look, eyebrows furrowing as a nervous smile graces his features as he tries to ease everything down. “I guess this won’t be an easy cat fight, will it?”

With his bloodthirsty eyes, the Zipper charges at Ladybug and Chat Noir with his weapon, but just in time, the heroes dodge it, going in opposite directions. Their feet paddling on the shingles of the roof, the sliding creating a bumpy sound as they made their escape. Ladybug goes and makes a clean getaway, while the Zipper’s eye line goes straight to Chat Noir, chasing him down with the weapon.

With every spray of the gun, they become faster and faster, a nonstop patter of the gun. And as fast and agile a cat can be, it cannot dodge every single attack made at them. Chat Noir’s eyes widen as he hears the clatter of metal inches away from landing on him. There’s no room to play any trick on the villain like this. With his heart racing, Chat Noir’s eyes dart out in every direction in hopes to find an alleyway or anything that he can escape.

However, with the Zipper’s fixation solely on Chat Noir, it creates a simple solution that her yo-yo could conduct without much help. Chat Noir will just… have to make sure he doesn’t get caught. Gojo makes sure he doesn’t look back, keeping his eyes forward as he runs down a jagged line. He’s careful with his footing, ducking and dodging at the very last second. He’s smug when he hears a disgruntled sound from his best friend, growing cocky for the moment only for it to bite him in the ass when his foot hits a leg and leads to Chat Noir’s downfall.

One fortunate thing is that he gains some distance, rolling down a hill as tomatoes come clattering with him during the long tumble. It’s embarrassingly, really, how the hero rolls and fumbles, unable to get any grip on the floor until there’s no longer a slope. With a final thud, Chat Noir groans while the Zipper only saunters over. He’s the one with the smirk now as he finally has a clear shot on the masked cat-hero. Panic rushes through Gojo as he tries to get quickly on his feet, but right at the last second, he sees the villain stagger. A flicker of hesitation onset in his eyes as his hand starts to shake.

“What are you doing?” Hawk Moth sneers into the Zipper’s mind. “Get that Miraculous!”

“Wait!” the villain falters, seemingly talking to himself. “No, there’s no time for waiting! Grab his Miraculous! Remember your friend! All of his lies! Get that Miraculous and exact your vengeance upon him!”

Reigniting that anger, the villain comes back to his senses, aiming the gun right at Chat Noir, pressing his finger on the trigger, a maniacal grin gracing his face as he’s got the hero right where he wants him. However, right at the knick of time, Ladybug appears in the corner of Chat Noir’s eyes, aiming the spotted yo-yo right towards the Zipper’s feet. When he goes to pull the trigger, he misses right as Ladybug yanks on the string, making the villain stumble and fall, crashing down to the ground with a thud and joining the male hero.

When Ladybug captures the akuma and the villain is unmasked, she goes to the sulking hero in a growing suspicion as her eyes sink in on Chat Noir. “Mind telling me what that was about?”

He still plays the ignorant card, standing up tall as he shrugs. “Tell you what exactly?”

“He was too focused on you,” Ladybug frowns, propping a hand on her hip as she glares at Chat Noir. He was a great partner, but he could be so insufferable and stupid at times. “And when I came to help you out, you’re on the ground watching him— not fighting back? Yeah, what was that about? You could’ve been discovered. He could’ve taken your Miraculous! How could you be so careless?”

Chat Noir sighs, his shoulders slumping as he looks down in shame. “I thought I saw him hesitate back there— wanted to see what he’d do.”

“So, you nearly jeopardize yourself— jeopardize us both on an off chance that he’d change his mind?” Ladybug grumbles. “Y’know what, it’s obvious that you two seem to be connected in real life, so I’ll just warn you right now, if you mess up again because of your stupid feelings, Hawk Moth won’t be the person you have to worry about.”

—

You find that one of the most appealing things that college has to offer are the vast amount of opportunities given to you. Whether it is mandatory for a grade or an optional occurrence that your professor highly recommends (and offers extra credit), you find them to be very fun. Especially the ones that offer food.

Luckily, this conference was held inside of a restaurant. The entire building booked for the event as your professor had asked which students wanted to participate. Taking up the opportunity, you had gotten dolled up for the occasion, beating your face with a light coat of foundation, lip gloss, and mascara before putting on a buttoned-up blouse and a pencil skirt, the attire requirement— business casual. You’re one of the few students to arrive early, taking a seat towards the end with those you find familiar. Nanami Kento, someone you’ve shared a few classes with and someone you start deeming as a friend, is on your right while the seat left of you is still vacant. His blond hair styled in front of his face with his typical stoic expression as the waitress makes her way around with a jug of ice cold water.

He’s the first to reach for it, pouring a glass for himself before looking over at you. “Want me to pour you a glass?”

You nod, accepting the kind gesture. “Yeah, why not?”

Nanami didn’t seem to be a very great conversation from what you’ve noticed. Whenever you’d start a conversation, he always hummed in acknowledgement as he listened in. When you asked him a question, the responses were always short and quick. Nothing to really sustain and carry it out, but you’ve come to appreciate his silence. Because what he lacked in one area, he gave in the next. He spoke a lot of words with his actions, always doing kind gestures to make up for his silence. He was so sweet and kind that it was adoring, making you enjoy his company. However, sometimes the quiet was overbearing and you needed something to spruce up the moment.

Your foot was tapping against the floor rather fast that it called for the blonde’s attention, making him finally muster up the nerve to say something first. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine.”

“Huh?”

“I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine,” he repeats, looking down at your restless leg. “We’re not the ones that’ll be talking.”

“Oh,” you hum, understanding what he meant and stilling your feet. “Sorry, it’s a bad habit. I’m fine.”

“Oh,” he mimics, cutting the conversation short. It’s a nuisance, he knows. He wishes he could start up something more with you, but he begins to feel all flustered and fumbles on his thoughts. He knows if he tries voicing them, he’d only make an embarrassment of himself and you’d lose all respect for him. In silent self-loathing, he grabs the glass and chugs the water until it’s empty, reaching for the jug to pour more.

Right as he does, you watch your professor rush in. “Sorry, guys! I was supposed to be the first one here, but some family business happened and it held me up.”

You all dismiss her tardiness as the place is still empty all things considered, but it seems like her arrival was the domino effect as people started piling in more, trickling inside. The professors sit on the opposite of you as everyone tries finding their seats. Breadsticks were brought to the table and nibbling on one now, you didn’t realize the presence of someone else until you heard the scraping of chair legs right next to you, the man with strikingly white hair pulling out the seat. “It’s fine if I sit here, right?”

Immediately, you nod, gesturing for him to take a seat next to you. The room is getting packed as the host comes to greet everyone, setting down more menus. Having already decided what you want, you watch as Gojo takes up his position. The evening goes smoothly, but you can’t help the glances you take at Gojo. You don’t know him too well, but he seems rather perplexed.

“I might be overstepping, but,” you call for his attention, “are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”

His shoulders slump, making your eyes widen as you’re worried you’ve crossed a line. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Is it that obvious?” Gojo groans, head falling forward and his styled hair falling in front of his face. His glasses tilt off his nose, nearly falling off. Your heart races, mouth falling in an ‘O’ as you didn’t mean to make him have a small outburst. He groans, hiding his face in his hands before grabbing the jug of water and pouring himself a glass.

“I need something stronger than this,” he groans, which the professor hears. She gives him a pointed look, “No drinking, Gojo.”

He grumbles, looking away. “I was only joking…”

Gojo confides in you, telling you that a friend got upset with him. Though he didn’t go into much detail about it, he was evidently hurt about the course of the situation. You tried giving him as much advice as you could, but he always had an excuse for it. You were curious about his dodginess, but thought there must be a valid reason for it if he was adamant on his stance.

“Anyways,” Gojo says, a smile gracing his features and replacing his previously glum expression. “Less about me, and more about you. Got anything more exciting than me being a shitty friend?”

“I don’t think I do,” you succumb to the discussion change. Humming out as you pondered on a discussion to talk about, you jut out your lips as you do. “I’m going out to one of those frat parties later this week. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Really?” Gojo furrows his eyebrows before chuckling. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t expect you to be someone who likes parties.”

“I do when I need a good stress relief,” you admit. “They can be fun if you go with the right crowd.”

“And do you have the right crowd?” He cocks up an eyebrow. You giggle, shaking your head.

“Honestly, no,” you say. “My friends don’t really like partying like that.”

“Hmm,” Gojo smiles. “How about I be the crowd you need? I’ve been needing a bit of a stress reliever, too. I fear getting wasted is the only solution possible.”

“Oh, definitely,” your eyes light up at the invitation. “As long as you’re not moping around the entire time.”

“Trust me,” Gojo throws you a sly smile. “I won’t.”

When the conference is over, the professor has all of the students gather around. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you a last minute assignment to tell me what the conference is about.”

Everyone chuckles, relief flooding their systems. “I just wanted to let you guys know that in one of the next few classes, we’ll have a project. You’ll need to partner up with someone else, and for this, I’m assigning the partners.”

Some people grimace at the announcement, squirming on the spot as they’re not too sure who they’ll be paired with. You start to worry, not wanting to be matched with a slacker and end up doing the majority, if not all, the work. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll like who you’ll be paired with for the most part. I was watching you all tonight and your partners will be someone within this group. I’ll let you all know right now who they are. A little VIP treatment for you all—”

Your shoulders drop with relief, knowing the probability of having a slacker has lessened. Though, you still question a few of the people in attendance, at least, you know the majority here. The professor scrolls through a list before her eyes light up with an ‘oh!’ leaving her lips. “Nanami with Haibara…”

Reading through the pairs, she goes down the list before saying your name. “You’re with Gojo.”

Standing next to you, Gojo nudges you in the ribs. He looks down happily, “That’s very convenient for us.”

You nod. “Yeah, but you better not give me all the work,” you point at him. The professor dismisses you all as he throws up his hand in defense, “I wasn’t planning on it!”

( 🐾 ) : @r0ckst4rjk @thotwiththoughts @hellokittyish @myahfig4 @kasukuna @aerareads @pixelcafe-network @fluerful @satsattoru @juneslove21 @strngegirl @etsurunii @l-ilysm @moonchhu @starriesworlds @rirk-ke

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you

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oldsoul007 · 1 day ago

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long journey

nicholas chavez x wife!reader

a/n: heyyyy guys….sorry ive been MIA and not active lately BUT school has been so hectic so i just finished finals AYYYY anyway ill def be more active these days coming cus im finally on break so expect some fun stuff. enjoy ;)

based on this request: Can you do one where Nicholas and Yn have a son and the little boy (even though he's a toddler) he's already taking strides towards independence and Nicholas is feeling the growing pains of letting go and still wants to keep his son little still?

Me and Nicholas sat on the couch, quietly watching our son, Ethan, as he carefully stacked his toy blocks, his little tongue sticking out in concentration. At just three years old, Ethan was becoming increasingly independent, a fact that filled his parents with both pride and a bittersweet sense of nostalgia.

“Look at him,” I murmured, my voice tinged with awe. “He’s getting so big. He didn’t even need our help with that tower.”

Nicholas glanced over at Ethan, a pang of something he couldn’t quite describe tugging at his chest. “Yeah, he’s growing up too fast.” His voice was softer now, almost wistful. “I can’t believe how much he’s learning every day. One minute, he’s asking for me to tie his shoes, and the next, he’s doing it on his own.”

I smiled, sensing the weight behind his words. I knew that Nicholas, a natural protector, was having a harder time adjusting to the fact that our little boy was no longer a baby. He’d been so hands-on, so involved in every little milestone, and now, Ethan was starting to take more and more steps on his own.

“I think it’s a good thing,” I said gently, taking Nicholas’s hand. “He’s becoming more confident. It’s a sign of how well we’ve done.”

Nicholas nodded but still seemed unsure. “I know, I just… I don’t want him to grow up too fast. There’s something about him asking me for help that makes me feel needed, like he still wants to be my little boy. I guess I’m not ready to let that go yet.”

My heart softened. I could see the deep love Nicholas had for our son, the quiet protectiveness that defined him as a father. But I also knew that the process of letting go was part of the journey—one that both parents had to navigate together.

“Ethan will always need you,” she said, her voice reassuring. “Just in different ways. He’s going to keep growing, but that doesn’t mean we lose the moments we have now. We get to watch him become someone new, someone amazing. And we’ll be there every step of the way.”

Nicholas watched as Ethan, oblivious to the conversation, triumphantly added the final block to his tower. The little boy clapped his hands, beaming with pride, and looked up at his parents, his eyes bright.

“Look, Daddy!” Ethan said, holding up the tower with both hands. “I did it!”

Nicholas smiled, his heart swelling with emotion. “You did, buddy. You did.”

For a moment, he realized that even though Ethan was becoming more independent, he would always be our little boy. The feeling of being needed might change, but the love and connection would only grow stronger.

Nicholas reached down to ruffle Ethan’s hair, a tear threatening to well up in his eye, but he blinked it away with a soft laugh. “Guess I’m just going to have to keep up with you, huh, kiddo?”

Ethan giggled and gave him a tight hug, and in that hug, Nicholas found a comfort—a reminder that no matter how much Ethan grew, he would always be his son.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholaschavezimagines #nicholas chavez imagines #charlie mayhew x reader #charliemayhewimagine #charliemayhewimagines #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas alexander chavez fanfic #nicholas chavez fluff

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illyrianbitch · 3 days ago

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WORKS IN PROGRESS & QUOTES !

im trying to get back into writing, so heres a list of all the series wips shoved away in my mind and some of my favorite scenes/quotes from them<3

Cicada Song - Azriel x Reader

The cicadas always came back, no matter how long they’d been silent. Azriel thought it was funny, in a way—how they waited, patient and buried, until it was time to scream.

Anatomy of Dependence - Azriel x Reader

Your hands were shaking when you reached for him. He wanted to tell you to stop—that you didn’t have to touch the ruin of him. But he let you. Because Azriel had never been good at turning you away, and maybe, just maybe, a part of him wanted to see if you’d flinch. If you’d finally see the darkness for what it was and walk away. But you didn’t. Your hands shook and you held on anyway.

An Education in Malice - Azriel x Reader

The words curled in your chest, bitter and sweet at the same time. A part of you, the child who had never stopped wanting his approval, allowed herself to feel something like warmth, like the satisfaction of a long-held desire finally being fulfilled. It made you want to turn your face away, ashamed.

House of Hunger - Eris x Reader

You hated him sometimes—his silence, his indifference, the way he managed to make you feel like you were reaching for something that would never be yours. But then there were moments like this, rare and fleeting, where you saw beyond the arrogance and the fire to the male underneath. And that male terrified you. Because he wasn’t cruel or cold. He was kind, and broken, and so impossibly alone that it made you ache in ways you didn’t want to admit.

One Summer - Azriel x Reader

“Tell me about it,” he said, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned in just enough for your noses to brush. His hand slid to cup your jaw, thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “I’m over here popping a boner every time you smile at me like some hormonal teenager.” You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, your body shaking against his as you playfully smacked his chest. “Oh my god, Az,” you groaned, half-embarrassed, half-amused. “I better stop smiling at you then.”

Lights, Camera, Action! - Rhysand x Reader

Lucien crossed his arms. “I’m not scared. I was startled, okay? Because you don’t have a dog.” He gestured wildly to Hero, as if needing proof that this isn’t just a strange hallucination. “You never mentioned a dog.” You grinned, giving Hero a little nudge forward as if presenting him formally. “Well, I do now.” “Since when?” “Since about twelve hours ago,” you said casually, as though adopting a dog on impulse is a perfectly reasonable, everyday thing. "Keep up."

In The Wake of Spring - Azriel x Reader x Eris (Azris x Reader)

Azriel had been ready to tear Lucien apart for even a taste of Elain. That was jealousy. That was claiming. But this was different. When he watched Eris lean toward you, your eyes locking in a way that had nothing to do with the others in the room, Azriel didn't feel the fire that once ignited within him. Instead, he felt a space open up inside him, a soft place where you both fit. Warm. Strange.

When Ghosts Call Us Home - Cassian x Reader

Centuries. That’s how long it had been since he'd last seen you—centuries—and yet, when he looked at you now, it was as if the years hadn’t existed at all. You looked different, sure—older, softer, but still undeniably you. There was a quiet strength in you that had only grown, a kind of peace he hadn't imagined possible after everything. He had expected time to change you in ways he couldn’t recognize, but you'd only expanded into yourself, like you were now something both older and more familiar all at once. It made his heart ache. Oh gods, how he wished he could've watched you grow into the female he watched now. He felt robbed.

Hidden Things - Lucien x Reader

Lucien's chuckles faded into something quieter. You caught your breath, wiping a tear from your eye as your laughter died down. And then you realized he was staring at you, his eyes distant, like he wasn't fully there anymore. “What?” you asked, “Do I have something on my face?” “No, nothing," he said as he cleared his throat. Lucien looked away for a second, but his eyes inevitably found yours again. “It’s just… you remind me of someone.” The air around you shifted slightly. You didn't miss the way his voice dipped, or the flicker of something deeper in his expression. Your smile softened as you turned fully toward him, leaning just a bit closer. “Do... do you love this someone?” Lucian stilled. For a moment, he looked almost startled. But then he took a breath, glanced down at his hands, and then back up at you. And smiled. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice tender. “I really loved them.”

im such a deep lover of series y'all. i just love writing the process of falling in love, but i also have soo many one-shots, so i might make one of these for those, too <3

#ngl half of these WILL be scrapped #but just for funsies #for yall #my wips #rae rambles #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #cassian x reader

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fishbananasstuff · 2 days ago

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“I’ll do anything for you”🎀

Additional tags: fem!reader pov, the reader is HORNY AS FUCK, age gap, asphyx!at!on, d!rty talk1ng, thr3at3ning (the reader likes it), violence, hair pulling, br€€ding k1nk, humiliation, heavy degrading, rough s€x, verbal humiliation, my first time writing smut please don't attack me guys

I was your student, a high achiever who tried her best to complete all quizzes, tests, and finals with a near-perfect score. Under that nerdy cover, I am head over heels for you. You’d trust me enough to let me be alone in your classroom, little did you know that—I secretly sniff your trench coat, your tie, your jacket, and your shirt while pleasuring myself with my vibrator. I buried my face into your clothes muffling my moans while inhaling your intoxicating scent. One day you asked me to help you set up the lab materials for the next class. I planned to wear a white blouse, dark grey mini pleated skirt, and black stockings then throw on a white lab coat showing off respectability but under that coat, is this:

(technically I changed my outfit the moment you tell me to come to your classroom)

I enter your lab but you’re not here. Kind of disappointing but I start to set up the laboratory equipment for my classmates.

*door unlocks*

I turned around looking at you ready to say ‘hello!’ instead of seeing your serene look, your face was dead serious not in a good way. The silence grows louder but then breaks by the sounds of your footsteps walking toward me.

"Heyyyyy. How are you doing? I'm almost done setting things up. Want to drink something?" just me pathetically trying to ease down the awkwardness in the room.

"I have something interesting to share with you sweetheart"

You grabbed the collar of my white lab coat scanning it for a second then rip my coat peaks causing the buttons to yank apart. You don’t even give me a chance to react…you cupped my cheek—

“You thought I don't know your little perverted scheme? Hm? Inhaling my clothes, touching yourself—Oh not to mention about that little journal you accidentally left it last class. I found out a lot of interesting things about you…to know more what is going on in your mind” Couple of days ago I lost my small notebook, I was in distress trying to look for it everywhere, straight fear shoot up my brain hoping that no one will look into it but I didn’t expect that it would be you. Tears start to form around the corner of my eyes as I kneel before you in fear, “Please—please don’t tell my parents!! I’m begging you please I know what I did was wrong—I’m sorry I couldn’t help it!” It’s so gut wrenching to get exposed like this especially with my own teacher, I feel like jumping off a bridge right now. You pull a chair over to sit down in front of me

“Are you really that desperate?”

“Y-yes…”

“Anything?”

I nods, small droplets of sweat trailing down my neck

“Well then—prove it” Your shoes nudge between my legs my cunt “Grind on my shoe. Only cum when I tell you to. If you cum without my permission, I’ll make sure you’ll suffer in the worse way possible” I hug your leg and then begin to grind. I don’t care if this is unethical I have been waiting for this moment to be this close to you, feeling my wet cunt against your shoe; riding it. You continued to make eye contact with me so I nuzzled against your pants hiding my face but it was just another excuse for me to inhale your scent.You smell heavenly divine it drives me fucking insane—and I don't mind being perverted as long as it comes to you. I will let you humiliate me anyway, degrade me, inflict any kind of physical pain on me, verbally abuse me, spank me, slap me, slut-shame me, threaten me—literally destroy my—

. . .

Oh.

I slowly turn my head up to look at you; just pure disappointment written on your face.

“Wait—I’m—

I yelp from you stepping on my cunt

“Huh…usually you would successfully complete any tasks that I gave you”you grabbed a fistful of my hair—“you truly have disappointed me. Take this punishment as future references so I don’t have to see this pathetic effort of yours”

Your tone completely changed,“Get up and lay your back on the table” you take off my tie and tied my wrist together.

“Close your eyes.” I feel the fabric brushes against my skin as my surroundings fade into darkness. My calves are tied I’m terrified of what you’re gonna do next but some part of me is kind of into this dominating stuff. I feel your cold hands groping my thighs beneath my red stockings as well then the coldness starts to trail up to my cunt. You forcefully rip out my soaking wet panties, I heard you playfully scoff seeing how horny I am for you. *zip* Oh god. It’s so..huge…I’m now even more terrified. I feel you rubbing the tip against my clit using my juices as lubricant, as if you’re teasing me.

“Huh. H-Hold on—”

You wasted no time in shoving your cock inside me. I let out a deliberate yelp but I remembered I had to stay quiet since school was still ongoing so I bit my lip hard. I listen to you grunting as you thrust deeper, I can feel my cervix being violated. It’s so fucking big I can’t hold in my moans anymore—

“Shhhh…sweetheart don’t be too loud now.”

I feel you pull your cock out and slam it back into me making my head jerk back. I feel like my womb is dripping out—

“Sweetheart…be quiet now~”

A slap delivered on my face after I continued to moan like a bitch in heat

“Aw…does that hurt? You're so cockdrunk that a slap is not effecting you at all—I guess I have to shut you up by force then—”

A strong hand wrapped around my neck with a sadistic smirk, you tighten your grip on my neck even to make me squirm and gasp for breath. My body arches off the table, my chest heaving against the cold, hard surface. Your other hand starts to grope my breast through the fabric of my shirt, eliciting a muffled cry from my constricted throat. My face begins to turn blue as foam and drool start to drip down my mouth. I land some soft pats on your hands to loosen up a bit. You lean in closer, your cock still buried deep inside me abusing my cervix with each thrust, “You like this, you wanted this. I’m just making your fantasy a reality but don't worry, I'm more than happy to oblige. If you can hold your breath for one minute—I will reward you. Don’t you want that from your favorite teacher? Hm?” I continued to main while being to choked like a dragged doll.

“Choking while moaning…What a–” you slap my thighs “–fucking pervert. I would've never thought my student would be an undercover slut”

You lean back still grinding into me also giving me a moment to compose myself, my heart races as I take a deep breath and nod, willing myself to endure the coming torment. Your hand squeezes around my neck once again resuming violating my hole. You start to count out loud, each number punctuated by a vicious thrust of your hips. The pressure in my lungs builds, and stars dance in my vision. You're relentless, holding my tied wrists while thrusting deeper and harder, each thrust increases my lust for you. “Four... five... six…” I'm getting dizzy, my body desperately craving air, but I hold on, thinking of the sweet release I'll get if I can just last a little longer. “Seven... eight... nine…” Fifty seconds in, “Almost there, sweetheart. “C’mon, you can do it…Imagine me filling up your tiny womb, claiming you, making you mine in every way” The sweet words send a shiver down my spine causing me to clench around your cock involuntarily.

“Oh, you like that, don't you? The thought of being my little fucktoy, being used by me in every way possible to the point when I am the only person that you can think of when you’re horny. I am the only person you need in this life when I tell you to get down on your knees, you’ll get down on your knees, when I tell you to take my load inside you, you’ll take it without defying me. Do you understand?” I nods multiple times. Tears stream down my face wetting the blindfold, but I refuse to disobey you. You finally finished counting "Fifty-nine... sixty." You release my neck, and I start coughing violently, drool traveling down to my chin and dripping down on the table. “Good girl…” you praise me with a tone filled with lust.

“Here’s my reward for you, a big one.” With a final powerful thrust, you release a deep groan filling me with a hot thick load of cum. My body convulses in pleasure and pain; I can't help but cough and moan at the same time. Looks like we found your new favorite pastime," you sneer, pulling out of me and leaving me trembling on the table still gasping for air. After you've had your fill of my trembling body, you finally withdraw from me, your cock glistening with my juices and your cum. You remove the blindfold, and I blink against the harsh light, my eyes immediately drawn to your handsome face. You wipe off my face full of tears, drool, and cum that you shove to my mouth; a stark contrast to the pristine lab coat I wore when I first walked in. You smirk, taking in the sight of me, pathetically sprawled over your desk with my wrists still bound. “Look at yourself,” you murmur, your voice thick with satisfaction. “Such a pretty little slut, all used up…” My cheeks burn with embarrassment, I try to look away, but you grab my chin to meet your gaze. “Don’t be ashamed of yourself, I think I like this side of you” Sweet reassuring words just make me fall head over heels for you even more. “And we're going to have extra tutoring at my place. Be there on time, don’t make me wait, okay?” you land a kiss on my head as an extra reward, I assumed? The reality of my new role sinks in—I'm going to be at your mercy, subject to whatever depraved desires you have. Like an obedient dog who is satisfied with whatever the owner give to them ♡

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k-evans-reads · 2 days ago

Text

The Spare

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Summary: When Princess Rosie unexpectedly is thrust into a political tour of the country, a working-class Air Force Captain is assigned to be her pilot. Although the princess is unhappy about the decision, she realizes she’s stepping into unknown territory when the unexpected happens

Previous l Main Masterlist | The Spare Masterlist

By @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

Word Count: 6,067

The morning was unusually warm for being earlier in the spring, but Rosie was thankful for it. Mornings and evenings were virtually the only time she was alone during these grueling tours but the darkness of the evening always brought a heavy weight of loneliness, something the rising sun of the mornings seemed to lighten. She liked to take advantage of the time, getting dressed to walk alone through the expansive gardens of the sprawling estate she was at for less than a day before being shipped off to the next stop, feeling like a puppet on a string.

Her hand gently brushed along some of the soft flowers growing as she wandered through the beautiful grounds. It was peacefully quiet as she walked, minus the crunch of a few displaced leaves but at the second crunch of a leaf from several feet behind her, Rosie finally spun her head to look over her shoulder, tensing as her suspicions of being followed were true. But a small smile crossed her lips absentmindedly as she realized who her shadow was that day. “I thought I heard someone behind me,” she said, pausing to let him catch up to her.

Chris grinned back to her, shrugging as he jogged to meet her. Clad in sneakers, sweatpants, and a t-shirt, he looked ready for a morning workout - one he seemingly now intended on skipping. “Even though I’m your pilot, technically I’m on your security team too so I think it’d look bad for me to say I’d lost you,” he reminded her, his grin growing to a smirk.

Rosie rolled her eyes at Chris, turning and walking side-by-side with him down the path. He’d already begun to snigger when she muttered, “Yeah I’m really going to get lost with guards every fifty feet.”

“I have a feeling you’d know how to slip by them if you wanted to,” Chris answered, and while Rosie snorted with sarcasm, his tone seemed to be completely honest.

“Me? I’d never…” she drawled.

But Chris simply arched a single brow at her, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes as they continued around the bend in the path surrounding a large pond. “Remember your brother is my best friend. I’ve heard enough stories to know it’s true,” he murmured.

Rosie chuckled quietly to herself, avoiding his gaze. “I just have no idea what you’re talking about,” she finally told him, but knowing wholeheartedly just about every story James must’ve told him through the years.

“Yeah I bet you don’t,” Chris laughed.

“Was there a reason that you were looking for me? Were you hoping to get a few pointers on how to play tennis?”

He raised another brow at her, a hand moving from his pocket to rest on his chest as a bird flew overhead. “Pointers? If I remember correctly, I’m the one who beat you… more than once,” he reminded her.

“That’s because I didn’t want to ruin all your confidence the first time we played together,” she laughed, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear as she caught a glance at the security guards across the property from them.

“Sounds like pretty big talk for someone who lost,” he whispered, dropping his hand back into his pocket.

Rosie snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, seeing the large grin on his lips as he glanced around the property. He just always seemed so… completely real. In a way no one really had before. She had never been around people as electric-seeming as Chris had, instead she had always been the forced center-of-attention on a lonely island, it felt. But the presence and energy he’d brought was surely welcomed by Rosie.

She was all-too aware of her surroundings, the guards on a perimeter around the property, with no less than five sets of eyes on the pair as they walked side-by-side together. But she was also all-too-aware of the patient, kind, amused man next to her, and indulged herself further by pointing out to him, “At least I didn’t nearly trip over the net.”

“Keyword there was nearly. I didn’t actually trip over it,” he said, his voice aghast at the suggestion.

But Rosie shrugged, ignoring his outrage. “I would have thought an Air Force captain would have been a little more athletic,” she stated, pursing her lips to keep her from giggling at his reaction.

He shook his head, squinting in the sunlight as he gazed upwards. “Be careful, Princess, remember that I’m the one flying you this afternoon,” he murmured to her, his voice low.

“I will as long as you do me one favor,” she paused, waiting for his eyes to meet hers as they passed under some sprawling tree branches. “Just call me Rosie.”

He grinned, his eyes brightening at those words. “If you just call me Chris,” he offered, brows raising hopefully.

“You’ve got a deal on that,” she assured him, eyes darting away from his hopeful, happy ones to look. She stiffened as she saw the moving gazes of the guards around them, willing herself to ignore them. Desperate for a distraction, she asked, “So what are you doing out here?”

He shrugged, lips pursing as he buried his hands in his pockets. “I’m not really doing anything until we leave this afternoon and I just saw you walking by yourself so I figured I’d just come see if you wanted some company,” he admitted, his voice becoming strangely quiet.

Rosie let the silence linger for a few moments as they walked, the gravel under their feet being the only sound as they walked. She mulled over his words, replaying them in her mind and feeling okay with that, with the offer of his company. “…That would be nice,” she admitted to him, her voice just as quiet as his had been.

The silence returned for a few moments as she struggled to find the words to say next. Thankfully, Chris took the lead and turned his head to look at her as she stared straight ahead. She had no idea why all of the sudden she felt so uncomfortable, but she also didn’t want to leave his company, despite the prying eyes and knowledge that this probably wasn’t something he should be doing, especially in the aftermath of the tennis match. But she made no moves to leave, instead listening intently as Chris said, “So Rosie, tell me about you.”

Rosie couldn’t stop the nearly-bitter laugh that escaped her. “Tell you about me? Doesn’t everyone already know everything they want about me?” She reminded him. And despite all her hopes and wishes - she knew it was true. Why wouldn’t it be? He surely had to sit through - like every other person in this country, including herself, James, and Annie - monotonous lectures and lessons on her family, dating back centuries and ending with the king and the future of the monarchy - the prince.

And she’d never forget the papers - the ones that stalked their near every move, wrote think pieces upon think pieces about the state of the monarchy, the wild black sheep of the Royal Family of Ellington, and the constant scrutiny they faced, all while carrying a tone of adoration.

But Chris seemed unperturbed, and Rosie had to sneak a glance at him furtively, nearly suspicious at the innocence and naivety. “Only what they publish in the papers, and that’s not really knowing someone,” he simply told her.

Rosie couldn’t even hide the surprise on her face, truly never having heard someone say anything like that before. It almost felt unbelievable that someone wanted to get to know her. She had spent her entire life in the shadow of James, always being the girl who had to fight against who she really was to be the royal princess on best behavior she was always supposed to be. Rosie had always felt that everyone around her either just wanted to be near her for her title, or expected her to be exactly what their perception of a princess was, and the hardest part for her is that a lot of that was true. She was so pulled into this bubble of royalty, every single thing in her life being dictated by it that it felt completely foreign to her to have someone simply getting to know her.

A slight smirk appeared on Chris’ lips, egging her on and encouraging her, C’mon, don’t even try to pretend you don’t have anything to say. I know enough about you from James to know that you’re not shy.”

“I was just surprised is all,” she admitted, unable to hide the shock from her voice. Her eyes bore forwards, hyper aware of every shift of his eyes as she hesitated. “I just don’t… know where to start I guess.”

“Start with anything, like how you’re terrible at tennis,” he suggested, a chuckle escaping him.

Her brow arched, finally sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed relaxed, his usually tensed and poised shoulders slouching with amusement and the twinkle in his eyes shining brighter under the bright sun. “We’ll see if you’re still singing that tune after we have a rematch,” she goaded.

“Okay, I won’t start with a sore subject,” he relented. A silence fell for a short moment and the chirping of birds filled the air until he asked, “What did you study at university?”

“Art history,” she answered quickly.

His head cocked and turned to look at her. “Art history? I don’t know that I would have guessed that,” he admitted.

“Well tennis wasn’t an option,” she laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. She didn’t know why, but despite the frenetic and uncomfortable feeling inside her at this questioning, she couldn’t help but indulge him. “I’ve always loved art. I’m not very good at doing it myself but I appreciate it.”

“Do you get to do anything with that now?”

She shrugged, a frown began to cross her lips. It’d been a sore subject of hers for a while now, the battle between reality and her desire for normalcy. “Not really, I mean I always kind of knew I’d probably have to be a working royal. But then before I graduated university, James ditched me to go into the Air Force so I had to take his place which everyone was thrilled about,” she sighed.

“I think you underestimate what the country thinks about you,” Chris said, his voice sincere. “But what if you could have a normal job? What would you want to do?”

“That’s easy. I would have wanted to curate art for a museum,” she answered quickly. It’d long been a love of hers and something she eventually looked forward to, once several years of being an active royal was under her belt. She yearned for the years when she got to be part of the future art curation of the many estates and homes in the family.

“I don’t think I’ve ever even hardly been to a museum,” Chris laughed, his laughter ringing through the grounds and causing a smile to cross Rosie’s lips.

“Looks like I’m just going to have to educate you then.”

He shrugged, simply agreeing, “Looks like it.”

His line of questioning didn’t stop there, with Chris continuing to ask her about things like what she normally did during tour downtimes, where she’d traveled over the years, her childhood, and everything in between. It was something she wasn’t used to, this interest in things beyond the surface level interests and charity endeavors. Instead, he asked about Rosie, not Princess Rosalie.

“What about your family? What’s your relationship with them like?”

She chuckled, waving a hand. “You probably already know from James,” she reminded him, all too aware at how long Chris and James had been friends.

“I’d rather hear it from you though. He can only give his perspective,” Chris said, his hands pushing into his pockets as they rounded a corner.

Rosie’s brows furrowed, looking at him. “What are you doing? Trying to gather information for the tell all you’re going to give about me later?” She asked.

“Hey I’ve gotta cash in while I can,” Chris laughed, the sound reassuring him.

“Well I’m sure you know what my relationship with James is like,” she began, pausing before adding, “He and I are really close. I mean, I’ve always been in his shadow, and there’s a lot of things he doesn’t fully understand about that but James is the one who understands more than anyone else what this life is like.”

Chris nodded, listening intently. “I’m glad you two have each other,” he admitted to her.

“Me too. I honestly don’t know what I would do without him,” Rosie spoke, her voice becoming softer as she grew more vulnerable. “James is closer to our father than I am. I think that to him I’m kind of just the one who always has to be managed… and my mother is just kind of… there. I honestly don’t even know how to describe it. She just isn’t…”

“Involved?”

She nodded at his answer. “That’s a good word for it. She just does whatever my father says and just sort of holds the party line. I’ve never felt like she was at all interested in me, but she and my younger sister Annie are a lot closer.”

“James never really talked about Annie much,” Chris softly interjected, as if his mind was beginning to fill in the spaces between her careful words.

“They love each other but aren’t really that close. He’s so much older than her that they were just kind of always in different places in their lives,” Rosie admitted to him. She paused, before quickly adding, “Annie’s really sweet though. She’s been able to escape some of the pressure and things placed on us and I hope to keep it that way.”

“I think she’s lucky to have you,” Chris spoke honestly.

“I’m not always so sure about that,” Rosie laughed, shrugging off the sincerity of his words. “Do you have any siblings?”

He shook his head, his eyes moving to stare straight ahead. “No, James is the closest thing I have to a brother.”

“What about your parents? Are you close to them?”

“I’m super close to my Ma, she’s the best,” he smiled, seemingly unknowingly and instinctively.

Rosie couldn’t help but smile at the loving expression on his face at the thought of his mother. “What about your dad?” She asked him.

Chris’ smile dropped, his jaw tightening. “… I never knew him,” he finally confided, their steps soft on the gravel as his voice lowered. “He left before I was even born so I’ve never met him.”

“Oh Chris, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, never meaning to pry at a clearly sore subject. The entire idea, while perhaps a normal event and one he had grown up with, was so foreign to her. From never knowing a parent to never knowing a family and their history, something her entire life revolved around.

“I’m more sorry for my Ma, I know it wasn’t easy on her,” he shook his head with a sigh. “She was the best parent I could ask for though.”

Rosie’s lips curled as she listened to him. “You two sound close,” she pointed out.

“We are. I talk to her all the time and she’s a big fan of yours,” Chris laughed.

“Of me?”

A loud chuckle escaped him as he shook his head.“Oh yeah, by you going on this tour, I’m flying you instead of flying the Air Force so that makes her happy,” he informed her.

“Well I’m glad I could win her over,” Rosie agreed with a smirk. “I’m sure she wasn’t happy when you came home one day and told her you were going into the Air Force.”

He shook his head, a hand running through his short hair. “She wasn’t, but I had been working so many odd jobs throughout high school and university to help make ends meet for us both that she was happy I did have a steady paycheck.”

Rosie quickly turned her eyes to the path in front of them, her shoulders tensing at the casual way he spoke about his life, and the way he’d struggled. She knew some things from a high level, that Chris grew up in the city, hadn’t gone to the same boarding schools so many in their circles had. But for the first time, she was struck by the sheer differences, more frequent than the similarities, in their lives; but also at how it formed this amazing person, despite the hardship he’d faced.

“Do you see her often?” She asked, her voice low as they passed several guards.

“She’d kick my ass if I didn’t,” he laughed, the sound light and happy. “The last place James and I were both stationed was only a couple hours from where she lives in the house I grew up in so I’ve been lucky to see her a lot the past two years. I think after the tour is over I have a week off before going back to the Air Force so I’ll probably spend it with her.”

“No wonder she’s a fan of me then, I got her son a safer job and a week off,” Rosie chuckled, moving her hand to push the hair out of her eyes. “I guess that’s proof I can keep some members of the public happy with the royal family.”

“The royal family already had her approval, she adores James,” he informed her.

“She’s met him?” Rosie asked, surprised.

“A lot actually,” Chris admitted. “She would visit me a lot during university or sometimes when I’d go home for a weekend James would come with me. She pretty much adopted him as another son.”

She mulled over her words, realizing how much of James’ life she hadn’t known. They of course had grown up side-by-side, but at early ages they’d separated to attend their all-boys and all-girls boarding schools, only seeing each other during tours, big events, holidays, and breaks. Despite all those years of being the other’s closest confidant, she’d missed a large part of James’ life and word. “I didn’t realize how close you two were,” she whispered.

“I honestly don’t even hardly remember how we became friends. One day we just kind of…were,” Chris laughed.

She smiled softly, knowing exactly what he met. James had always had it a lot easier socially than she had, and it was clear just how easily the two clicked. “And then you even got stuck with him after university,” she pointed out.

“Yeah I just couldn’t seem to shake him,” Chris laughed, shaking his head. “He’s certainly made the Air Force a lot more fun. I’m going to miss him.”

Rosie was quiet for a moment, listening to the crunches of leaves underfoot as they walked. “Do you plan on staying in the Air Force or do you have other plans for things you want to do?” She asked him.

He shrugged, lips pursed. “Honestly I’m not sure. Probably just staying in until retirement I guess,” he confessed.

“Well obviously you’re talented at it, I’ve seen all those medals on your uniform,” Rosie complimented him.

“It’s a good steady career and takes care of me and my Ma so I can’t complain,” he smiled, shrugging at the praise.

She was struck by the way he so easily and honestly brushed off praise, turning it into something positive about someone else. Any compliment paid to Chris by Rosie had turned back to his Ma, or his upbringing, the grounded way he was clearly raised. It was so effortless for Chris, and while he may shrink under the attention similarly to Rosie, he bolstered those around him and made it as though it was expected as part of his role and job here.

“What about….” she began, trailing off as David, her private secretary, walked towards them on the path suddenly. David first bowed in front of Rosie, before glancing at Chris quickly.

He cleared his throat, eyes turning back to Rosie. “Princess, it’s time for you to get ready.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” she told him, lips pursed as she wanted one more moment here.

“I beg your pardon but we’re already behind schedule,” he all but pleaded, eyes staring straight at her.

Chris shifted a bit next to her, and she saw the way his posture straightened and tensed back up again at the intrusion.

“Alright,” Rosie relented with a sigh. She looked next to her, aware of David's presence still there, as she told Chris, “Chris, thank you for this morning. That was just… really nice.”

He smiled, his eyes looking at her before shrugging, “It truly was my pleasure,” he admitted.

She headed inside after David, following him upstairs. She’d just sat down after a quick shower in a vanity chair, beginning to have her hair and makeup done for that evening’s casual events when a quick knock rapped at the door and she was ushered downstairs into the study of the estate. Inside the room, which was packed by the advisors to the Princess’ office, the head of security, other security members, and, to her slight surprise, Chris, who was leaning back against a bookshelf, his arms crossed over his chest, a serious expression on his face as they both avoided the other’s eyes.

Thomas, the head of security, began as the door finally shut behind her, “Princess Rosalie, I need to inform you of a security threat at our next stop on the tour.”

Her brows furrowed as she sat in the plush chair at the center of the room, facing Thomas who sat at the desk. “Security threat? I thought the coast is what we were worried about?”

“It is, but the palace found out about a tip about someone saying they had a plan to break into the event you’ll be speaking at in the next city,” he spoke.

“Is it a legitimate tip?” She asked, mind racing at the possibilities.

“We’re not sure and our team is checking into it,” he informed her, leaning back in his seat. “The issue is that we need to leave within the next hour to make it there, but I don’t believe we’ll be able to confirm nor deny if it’s a legitimate tip in that time.”

She nodded, taking in the information. “So what are we going to do?” She asked, her voice quiet.

“I spoke to the palace and the choice is up to you Princess. You can decide if you’d like to go or skip over that city.”

She’d never had the autonomy to make these decisions before, having never faced something like this, and having never been aware of these things in the past due to her young age during so many tours. “Has my father weighed in on it?” She asked, suddenly desperate for the guidance he’d have provided, backed by his long experience.

“He said that you could decide,” Thomas answered, Rosie’s heart sinking. “The threat could be real, but skipping that city could make us appear weak or fearful. The decision is up to you though, your highness.”

She nodded, asking them to give her a moment. The group quickly filtered out of the room, the door shutting behind them. But at a light touch on her shoulder and a throat clearing, she slouched with relief. Chris walked around her chair, turning to half sit on the desk in front of her, his eyes concerned as he looked her over.

“Rosie, are you alright?” He asked, his voice low and worried.

“Hmm? Oh yes, I’ll let you know of my decision soon so you can get the plane ready,” she answered, swallowing uncomfortably as she pulled a bobby pin out of her hair, fidgeting.

“That’s not why I asked,” he told her, repeating, “Are you alright?”

She shrugged, mind still racing. “Yeah I am.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” he replied quietly, watching her carefully.

“It’s just… a lot to process,” she finally confessed, struggling under the pressure and every possibility.

“Well I’m a pretty good listener,” he told her, lip curling momentarily before his expression disappeared.

She nodded, biting her lower lip. “… I just hate it when they leave things like this up to me. It feels like they’re just waiting for me to screw up,” she told him, tapping her fingers against her legs.

“Well if they choose to leave it up to you, they’re going to have to live with the decision so that’s on them, not on you,” Chris reminded her, voice even and level.

Rosie chuckled bitterly, informing Chris, “That doesn’t mean I won’t have to pay the price for it though.”

“What do you think you want to do?” He asked her quietly.

Rosie sat there quietly as so many thoughts ran through her head. She knew that for them to actually come to her and consider cancelling an event, that there had to be some validity to the threat. It wasn’t a secret there was some growing unrest along the coast and it wouldn’t surprise her that some was spilling in farther. This tour had been highly publicized already, something from the tour or about Rosie nearly daily and thus would be the perfect opportunity for someone to try to attack it and her.

But then there was the flip side that it could make the royal family appear weak or simply uncaring about the people there, dipping out at the sight of trouble. Rosie didn’t want to be someone who was out of touch and let people down, or have it added to the list of the things she had messed up. It didn’t seem like there was a good option and Rosie lifted her eyes to meet his as she honestly admitted, “I don’t know.”

“You still have time to think about it,” he said, nodding. And he was right, but she didn’t see a way she could wrestle with these options within the timeframe still, not without someone’s advice.

“Chris?” She asked, her voice nearly shaking. “Can I ask your opinion?”

He huffed, quietly admitting, “I don’t know I’m the right person to be telling you what you should do.”

“I respect your opinion though,” she said. And it was true, he’d been through more in this realm than she hopefully would ever, had the training, the knowledge, and the ability to see this from many perspectives. “I’d like to know what you think.”

“…Honestly?” Chris began, pausing. She nodded encouragingly, her eyes wide as she looked up at him anxiously. “I think I’d leave and move on.”

“Really?” Rosie asked, surprised at the honesty and fear behind his words.

“Yeah, I’ve seen the layout of that building and there are a lot of entry points for someone if they did want to try something. It’s a pretty hard building to secure completely especially with so many guests there. It’s not a huge loss if you skip it, but could be a huge loss if that tip turns out to be true.” Chris said. He shrugged, adding, “I’d move on.”

She mulled over his words, at the risk he mentioned. It would be more important to play it safe, to avoid mourning lives or destruction than it was to worry about causing bitter uproar for skipping out. He put into words what the only way she knew forward would be, to play it safe in the best way possible, and she knew how invaluable that was.

With a nod, she looked up at Chris, her shoulders returning to the poised, perfectly straight posture that was ingrained in her from many years of training. “Would you call everyone back in?” She asked Chris.

He looked at her for a long moment, and with the last hesitancy and anxiety leaving her expression, he nodded. Hopping off of the desk, he opened the door, peeking his head out and murmuring for everyone to come in. As everyone filtered back into the room, she couldn’t help but notice Thomas’ frown, but ignored it as they all stood in front of her.

She stood as well, moving a hand to smooth her clothes as Thomas asked, “Did you have a decision, Princess?”

“We’re going to skip it and go to the next city,” she informed them, her voice sounding more resolute to her than it had since earlier that day.

“Are you sure, your highness?” One of the many security team members asked - Roger, she reminded herself, he’d been on Annie’s detail for years before being promoted.

“Completely,” Rosie answered with a nod.

Rosie sat silently in the backseat, alone with her thoughts with the only sound she heard was the engine of the car and the patter of soft rain on the windows. She just couldn’t shake that feeling of loneliness that had been her constant companion the last few years but she didn’t get time to dwell on it when the car came to a stop on the private airfield, her door being held open and an umbrella handed to her as she climbed out of the car.

Her plane was sitting idle on the field, the stairs open and waiting for her along with the small integral staff of people who would be on the plane with her lined up and waiting next to the stairs as they always were. Rosie’s eyes skimmed over each person, politely smiling at the head of security, the tour advisor, palace public relations strategist, her secretary for the tour, but when her eyes came to the person standing closest to the stairs, somehow despite the rain, her day felt a little bit sunnier.

Rosie couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked standing there underneath the black umbrella. He stood straight and tall, that perfect military posture with his long legs outlined in a pair of navy blue dress pants. Rosie’s eyes followed up the length of his legs to see him wearing a pristine white button up shirt and navy blue tie that matched the suit jacket that hung on his broad shoulders. His brown hair was pushed to the side, spiking up a little bit at the top and his thick scruff that wasn’t thick enough to be a beard only outlined that chiseled jaw that looked like some of the statues she remembered studying in her art classes.

But the playful closed mouth smile he gave her when their eyes met were anything but like any of the marble statues she had seen and left her unable to help herself but engage him, “Well, are you going to get me to the next leg of the tour safely?”

He chuckled quietly as he twisted the umbrella slightly in his hands. “Good news for you, I’m an even better pilot than I am at playing tennis,” he replied.

“And humble too,” Rosie laughed, a sarcastic whisper.

“It is awfully hard being so good at so many things,” Chris rolled his eyes, but his voice remained amused.

“Really? Because I only heard you say two things.”

He smirked, eyes darting down before he met hers again. “You better remember I’ve got your life in my hands.”

“Somehow I’m not too concerned,” she admitted, playful yet honest.

Chris shot her a smile that felt warmer than a summer day coupled with a wink that made her own lips curve into a grin before she turned to walk up the stairs to the plane, handing her umbrella to the guard at the top of the stairs before going inside to sit down as everyone else followed in behind her.

She watched as Chris stepped on board and his eyes instantly found her, commenting on his way by to the cockpit, “Better buckle up, Rosie. I might give you a bumpy flight in return for your sarcasm.”

Rosie didn’t get a chance to respond, Thomas instantly appearing as he inserted into the conversation with a harsh correction, “I believe you meant to address Her Royal Highness as Princess Rosalie.”

“It’s fine Thomas,” Rosie quickly defended, seeing the discomfort on Chris’ face and the harshness in Thomas’ before she went on to say, “I specifically asked him to call me Rosie.”

With another uncomfortable pause, Thomas just nodded in acknowledgement before going to his seat. Rosie didn’t even want to look at Chris, purely loathing all of these things that went along with every part of her life, but Chris broke her out of it when he leaned in with a smirk as he said, “I’m making so many friends on this tour,” before giving her that wink again and then disappeared to the cockpit.

A small smile lingered on her lips as she went to sit down and Rosie relaxed into her seat, getting ready for the smooth takeoff but had just barely heard Chris’ low voice come over the intercom to announce they were at cruising speed and everyone could move from their seats when the tour administrator, Sarah, came to sit next to her. The greying haired woman was one of the many palace staff members who had been employed as long as she could remember, upholding the strict traditions and ways of the royal family, but Rosie was thankful that Sarah had always been kind to her, extending her a little more understanding than others.

“Princess Rosalie, are you ready to go over your next few events?”

With a small nod, Rosie tried her best to focus as Sarah briefed her on what the next few stops would entail. There were a handful of speeches, ribbon cuttings, and visits to different charities, but as they got closer and closer to the unrest on the coast, the security threat grew larger, which led Sarah to bringing up an undeniable fact, “We don’t want you to look as though you’re vulnerable at any of these events. Normally we like to have security be a little more invisible but we’re going to make them a bit more obvious. The palace also decided we’d like you to have a security escort next to you at each event and so Thomas-”

“Oh Sarah, please not Thomas,” Rosie all but begged, sighing as she spoke.

“He is the head of security,” Sarah said, shocked at the idea of not having Thomas be there.

She nodded, but admitted to Sarah, “I know but this is already hard enough. If I have Thomas breathing down my neck it’ll only make me more nervous,”

“I suppose we could have someone else,” Sarah finally admitted, lips pursed as she looked at the papers in front of her and tried to solve the equation.

Rosie was quiet for a moment, but knew the answer in her heart. “…What about Captain Evans?”

“Your pilot? Princess, he’s not really part of the core security team. He’s more here at the request of the Prince.” Sarah reminded her, but Rosie was willing to push the issue.

“But he’s been through the security training and he’s military so he certainly knows protocol,” she reminded her. Then, knowing the optics of this, she added, “I think if anything it would look good to have a decorated Air Force Captain as the one standing next to me at events. It shows trust in the military, puts less of a wall between me and the people than a security guard would, and it would… make me feel a lot better.”

Sarah was quiet for several moments. Rosie could practically hear the battle inside her mind, but was thrilled when she finally said, “You’re right, I think the Captain would be a good choice.”

With a smirk, Rosie sat back, knowing that with Chris by her side, the tour would fly. The best moments had already been with the two of them together, but now, with the assurance that Chris would be there, she couldn’t help but feel comforted. And as the cockpit door opened as the plane’s captain came to grab a drink from the stewardess, her heart fluttered at the glimpse of Chris, sitting in the pilot’s chair, his chiseled arms beneath his shirt, and his bright blue eyes as he turned his head to the side.

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darling-archeron · 2 days ago

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@littedidyouknow, surprise! I was your Secret Santa for @acotargiftexchange. I had so much fun writing this fic for you. We talked about how you liked hurt comfort and would change how some of feysand's trauma was handled, so I combined that with some holiday fluff. This is chapter 1/3. I hope you enjoy - happy holidays!

With every solstice, it seems the Inner Circle grows. As Nyx's first solstice approaches, Feyre and Rhysand celebrate holiday traditions, both new and old, while grappling with unhealed wounds.

After a night of fitful tossing and turning, it was safe to say that when light streamed through the bedroom window, Feyre wasn’t ready to face the day.

Between Nyx’s fussing, Rhys’s restlessness, and her bad dreams, she would have been just as well off not going to bed at all. All week, she had felt drained, and last night had been no different.

At least, Nyx was often good about sleeping soundly in the morning. A true Night Court child, it was the late hours that kept him awake. Judging by the slant of the sun – or what she could glimpse of it, through her barely-open eyes – she and Rhys should have another hour of peace.

Rhys, it seemed, had also managed to fall into a fitful sleep at last. Despite his tossing and turning, he had still ended up nestled in her arms.

Right where she liked him. Surrounded by his warmth. Close enough to feel his heartbeat.

She had tried to keep her unrest concealed from Rhys. She wasn’t sure why – they didn’t keep things from one another. She knew he would listen in quiet understanding to whatever she was feeling. But she got the sense he had been feeling the same way – even if he didn’t show it in his waking hours, his fitful sleep was enough of an indication.

Even so, knowing she wasn’t alone in her unrest didn’t stop her from feeling completely ungrateful and selfish.

This time of year was supposed to be for celebration and thankfulness. And yet, here she was, with everything she could want in the world – a family, a home, peace, a loving mate, and a healthy child – and she still felt…discontented. Heavy.

A little haunted.

Gods, she was ungrateful.

More long minutes passed until she felt Rhys stir beside her.

“Good morning, love” he murmured, though he sounded as exhausted as she felt, even as he pressed a kiss into her hair.

She mumbled something barely coherent back, leaning into his touch.

“Sleep well?”

“Not really,” she admitted.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, sounding a little more awake. Of course, they were both used to getting up during the night to calm down Nyx when he woke. This was different.

“I’m just so tired,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Did I keep you awake?” he asked with equal softness, pressing her closer.

“No, I don’t think I would have slept either way.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear the drowsiness away while cringing against the sunlight streaming in.

Noticing her squint, Rhys flicked his fingers, and the heavy navy curtains immediately snapped shut.

“What’s bothering you?”

“I think I could ask you the same thing.” He had dodged bringing the unrest up as much as she had in past conversations, which was unlike both of them.

“Avoiding the question, are we?” He kept his tone light, but Feyre felt the undercurrent of concern. On a different morning, she might have tried to continue to tease and play, but…she didn’t realize how much of her fear and exhaustion she had been keeping from him. How long until fate tried to tear them apart again?

It haunted her, to think of how they had cheated death thrice. They couldn’t be so lucky again.

“This probably sounds silly, and maybe it’s selfish of me. For the first time in years, it feels like there’s no major disaster looming. Everyone is healthy, and our relationships with the other courts and the continents are going well. I know I shouldn’t be anxious. But it’s as if…for the first time in years – I really have time to think about everything that’s happened. During the War, and after.”

Wordless for once, Rhys just held her, rubbing soothing circles up and down her back.

“I think I’m feeling the same way you are,” he finally said. “Our first few solstices together, the relief was outweighing everything. Surviving the war and everything that came before…”

And Nyx’s birth, too. He didn’t need to say it.

“I just felt so much disbelief that we had made it through, that we had each other. But now…I just keep thinking about all the ways things have gone wrong, all the ways things could go wrong. I know it doesn’t do any good. I don’t want to ruin the present, by dwelling on what-ifs. Perhaps it makes me ungrateful, to still feel grief now. But my mind…it keeps trying to drag me back to times I’d rather not remember.”

“No, Rhys,” Feyre interjected sharply – and she couldn’t deny how cathartic it felt, to hear her own doubts in him. And if she could reassure him – she could reassure herself.

This is what they did. Blamed themselves for things they shouldn’t, patched up each other’s wounds. Held each other through the dark.

It was comforting, to know that she wasn’t alone in her exhaustion. That Rhys was beside her, as he was in so many things.

“I understand,” she continued. “Now that things have settled down. It’s like I actually have time to process some of the things that happened. In a way that…I suppose I didn’t before. I suppose I didn’t want to tell you, to make you feel bad.”

That first solstice, after the war, everything had been so fresh, so new. There had been sorrow, yes, and a sense of loss, but the warmth of love surrounding her for the first time in so long had kept the cold at bay.

Her mate didn’t say anything, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. Rhys didn’t say anything for a long while, but she could guess that his mind was half Under the Mountain.

“It’s nothing worth remembering,” he insisted, but she caught the way he stiffened.

Gently, she turned his head to face hers, their eyes meeting. “That doesn’t mean it won’t need a way to come out, one way or another.” If she could save him some nightmares tonight by having this conversation now…

“You’re the one who said you were tired, darling. I shouldn’t be putting on this you.”

She frowned. “Where is this coming from, Rhys? Let me share your burdens, as you share mine.”

Together, as they were in all things.

Still, he frowned. “I…I don’t know if I can right now. Maybe later?”

Rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back, she sent a pulse of understanding down the bond. He hadn’t wanted to talk last night, either, when she had asked him why he was restless.

He would be ready at some point, she trusted, but that conversation wasn’t what he needed right now.

“We can talk about something else. What about other Solstices - when you were younger? How did you celebrate – where did the snowball fight come from?” She asked to get his mind on more pleasant things, but also of her own curiosity. No matter how much she learned of her mate’s 500 years of life, it seemed there was always more to hear.

He considered the question, idly playing with a strand of her golden-brown hair. She snuggled up closer to his comforting warmth.

“When I was very young, my least favorite part was always the court parties I would have to attend. Long, drawn-out events, mostly in Hewn City. Mor and I would always try to sneak off, only for one of our parents or nannies to drag us back by our ears.”

“Your parents let a child attend revels in the Court of Nightmares?” she asked incredulously. She had seen parties there that bordered on orgies.

“Oh, we were sent to bed long before things were that wild. The night felt like it dragged on long enough as it was – once, Mor almost fell asleep, falling face first into her roasted duck.”

“As I’m sure is no surprise, my father wasn’t much of a family man. Certainly not by the time I was born. If it wasn’t for my mother, I’m sure we barely would have celebrated outside the Court of Nightmares. And my mother, for as much as her chosen family meant to her, quickly realized that the strife of getting my father to stop thinking about politics for one day was more trouble than it was worth. When I was training in Illyria, it often got a little quieter around Solstice. For most, it was their only leave for the year. I was one of the lucky ones, with my mother living in camp, and my father occasionally dragging me away for one of his own lessons…”

“What a lucky little High Lord, getting special privileges,” Feyre teased, flicking his nose.

Rhys scoffed. “If you can call sitting through endless meetings in the Court of Nightmares, or being chased through the woods by whatever my father decided to send after me “special privileges.”

“But what I meant was that Cassian didn’t have any family they cared to visit outside of the camps. So there were years when it was just my mother and the two of us – later the three of us, once Azriel showed up. She would make special treats, and always sewed new clothes for the three of us. I wish I could say our gifts were always as thoughtful.” He chuckled. “At the very least, she always made a show of being pleased with whatever we had come up with. Those are some of my favorite Solstice memories.”

She felt his mental presence gently slipping through the walls of her mind, sharing a memory through his eyes, of his mother and his brothers, eating cookies and sharing presents by the crackling fire.

“I swear, I never would have thought such a thing was possible, but after my sister was born, she softened my father. When Celeste was young, there were a few years when the four of us would get together in Velaris. My sister would throw a fit if my father didn’t make some kind of effort to be with us through the holidays – and with anyone else, I would have sworn the holiday would have been better without the prick. But…he was kinder to her. Like he wanted to give her the childhood the rest of us hadn’t been afforded.”

Feyre listened attentively; hand braced gently on his arm as Rhys immersed himself in the years long past.

“Celeste loved the holidays. Loved any reason to celebrate. Her favorite tradition was always baking, and she’d stay in the kitchen for hours and help my mother and the servants prepare dessert. When she got a little older, she would always try and join my brothers and I during our snowball fights. I would usually tell her to stop being a pest. But Az…he was the good one. He would let her join his team, pummel Cass and I. Of course, we’d always tell him that his win that year didn’t count, since he had extra help.” Her mate smiled at the memory.

“What else?” Feyre asked softly, eager to learn more pieces about the girl she had never met.

“She loved to ice skate. That was usually what the two of us did together.”

“You? On ice skates?” Feyre couldn’t help but interject in disbelief, incredulous at the idea of Rhys gliding across the ice. Not that he wasn’t graceful, but it didn’t exactly fit in with the idea of Illyrian brute strength.

“You doubt my abilities? I was an excellent skater. I’m the one who taught Celeste.”

She pictured Rhys, the dutiful big brother, spinning around on the ice with his sister, faster and faster, both of them laughing and carefree.

“You said you were an excellent skater. Are you still?”

“I haven’t done it in years, but you should know I’m a quick study,” he said slyly.

“Would you want to pick it up again?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, why don’t we do all of those things. The skating, the baking,” Feyre suggested.

He didn't answer for a moment, turning over her words, and Feyre was struck by the thought that he might not want part in these traditions with anyone other than his sister, that she was invading on a treasured memory.

Before she could brush her words away, change the subject, a smile played at Rhys's lips.

“You wouldn’t be bored? Doing all of these old traditions with me?”

She shook her head. “Of course not! And…I think it would help me, too, to spend time with you. To just be. I’ve been trying to stay so busy and focused on the future, our future, but…I can’t outrun everything. Maybe, if we can find some time, it could be good. To just be together, in the moment.”

And maybe if they were lucky, the magic of Solstice could bring a little healing to them both.

"I'd like that a lot. We could bring Nyx along, too.”

“There are three days until Solstice. How many activities do you think we can fit in?”

“You’re in luck, my darling wife. As an early birthday present, I’ve cleared both of our calendars. Now, I’ll admit the activities I had in mind originally were a little more…physical,” he said, and she was very aware of his hand creeping up the side of her shirt, “but…few things would make me happier.”

“Well then, it sounds like a plan,” Feyre said, pressing a long, slow kiss to his mouth.

And for the first time in days, she felt lighter.

#acotargiftexchange #feysand #feysand fanfic #feyre archeron #rhysand #nyx #kat's writing

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eduardamorgan · 2 days ago

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Special training – König call of duty

(part one) (part two?)

Content warning: Body image issuesWeight-related remarks Bullying/exclusion Military setting Public embarrassment Mentions of past trauma

Words- 1.182

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You were the new recruit in Task Force 141, and that’s how everyone saw you. Sure, you were a perfectly trained soldier, with skills unmatched by most, but in a place like this, you were just one among many at the facility—or at least, that’s what you thought.

Since being assigned here last month, you’ve felt like you were back in high school: unimportant, friendless, and with no one to trust. You avoided conflicts or anything that might tarnish your fragile reputation here. Honestly, you missed those idiots you used to call friends back at last year’s base.

Your routine was simple: wake up, get ready, and complete the tasks assigned to you by the lieutenant. Cleaning bathrooms or helping with uniform laundry were just some of your duties. Once those were done, you’d kill time in your “rookie dorm,” which, conveniently, was only occupied by you. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but you were grateful to have a place where you could be alone, away from the judgmental stares of the veterans—the ones who looked at you like you were a nobody simply because you weren’t part of one of their intimidating groups.

That was, until you discovered the existence of a gym in the facility. Wandering the corridors in search of it, you found yourself wondering how long you’d have remained clueless about it had you not started exploring. Every face you passed was unfamiliar, and as you continued your search, you regretted not having anyone to ask without fearing they’d look at you like dirt for interrupting them.

You weren’t one to suck up to higher-ups, but you’d rather talk to them than to anyone else here. At least their rank meant they were obligated to show some level of respect.

Lost in thought, you were startled when a cold hand landed on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Before you could turn around, a sharp, almost mocking voice cut through the air:

“Lieutenant Ghost wants to see you in his office. Now.”

It was Riley, one of the few other women here. Her behavior was loud and obnoxious, often drawing attention as she laughed along with her little group.

“Yes, I might’ve analyzed everyone here already, even though I’ve only been in this ‘wildlife habitat’ for a month. Maybe I’m too quick to judge, but first impressions matter.”

“Hey! Are you even listening, rookie?”

You nodded quickly, and that was enough for Riley to turn her back on you after scanning you from head to toe. You’d caught her staring at you a few times before, but this time, her gaze was unsettling.

“Where’s his office?” you asked, trying to mask your unease.

“You’ve been here a month and still don’t know?” she sneered, not bothering to look back as she walked away.

You rushed to catch up with her, asking again. This time, she glared at you with disdain and pointed down the hallway.

“You’d better hurry, sweetheart. Someone’s waiting for you.”

Your face burned with anger. Sweetheart? What did she mean by that?

You stormed off before her smug expression could make you lose your composure. The memory of your teenage years flooded back, unbidden. You’d been slightly overweight growing up—not obese, but enough for your aunts to make comments that haunted you to this day. Comparing yourself to your petite, slim friends had only made things worse.

But that was the past. You’d overcome that. Your body didn’t bother you anymore. You were fit, disciplined, and an incredible soldier. No one’s opinions could change that.

Repeating affirmations to yourself, you pushed forward, only to stumble upon the most humiliating scene imaginable.

Every single man—yes, every single one—was walking through the hallway in nothing but towels, fresh out of the showers. As soon as you appeared in your ridiculous workout clothes, their attention turned to you.

No. No. No. Absolutely not!

What would they think of you now? That you’d “accidentally” wandered into the area just to see this?

You turned on your heel and bolted, swearing off the gym forever. Why had Riley sent you the wrong way? You knew it! You just knew it!

Tears stung your eyes as you fled. You hated this base. You wanted to go back to Kortac, to see Horangi, Roze, Calisto—even the Colonel! Couldn’t you have one thing go your way for once?

You didn’t realize you were crying until your vision blurred. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you failed to notice the end of the hallway—or rather, the massive man blocking it.

You collided with what felt like a brick wall, only to find yourself being caught mid-fall by a giant of a man. He steadied you, preventing what would’ve been a very painful face-first encounter with the floor.

“Soldier!” Ghost’s sharp voice broke through your shock.

You wiped your eyes and glanced at the name stitched onto the massive man’s tactical uniform: Colonel König. You looked up and froze, taking in the orange-patterned mask and piercing gray-blue eyes.

“Kö-”

“Is there a problem, soldier?” Ghost interrupted, his tone demanding. “Care to explain why you’re running from the male quarters?”

“No problem, sir. I just took the wrong turn,” you stammered, taking a step back.

“Didn’t Riley tell you I needed you in my office?”

“She did, sir.”

“Then why weren’t you there?”

“She gave me the wrong directions.”

Ghost let out an exasperated sigh. “Alright. I’ll show you the way myself.”

Following behind Ghost and König, you felt your self-worth plummet. Even though you’d dedicated your life to your career, you were still so far from their level.

When you arrived, Ghost made both you and König wait outside before calling you in. Inside, he got straight to the point.

“I’ll be blunt, Y/N. You stood out at Kortac, which is why you were sent to Task Force 141. Here, you’ve proven yourself equal to the others, and your skills haven’t gone unnoticed.”

You sat rigid, wondering if his words were some fantasy your brain had conjured to make you forget the trauma you’d just endured.

“But none of this happened by chance. It’s all thanks to the potential Colonel König saw in you. Your last high-risk mission in New Mexico showcased your capabilities, and now, after your evaluation period, Special Forces has approved you for promotion. You’re to begin training as a lieutenant.”

Your mind spun. Me? A lieutenant? What made me stand out?

“Only five soldiers in this base passed the month-long evaluation with strength and composure. Each of you has been assigned a trainer. In your case, it’s Colonel Alexander König. Training starts Monday morning.”

Still processing everything, you could barely respond. König stepped forward, his Austrian accent authoritative as he addressed Ghost. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Ghost left the room, leaving you alone with König. His massive presence seemed to fill the entire space, his sharp gaze piercing through you as if waiting for a response.

“I-I…”

“Monday. 6:30 a.m. Outside. We’ll start with outdoor training to test your limits.”

“Yes, sir… Colonel,” you managed, craning your neck to meet his gaze.

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English is not my native language so I hope my translation was good 🥺

My first post here!

#könig #konig x reader #könig cod #könig fanfiction #konig #fanfic #call of duty #task force 141 #task force x reader #military

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