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mysunshinetemptress · 7 months ago

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Unseen, Unwanted, Indifferent

Leah Williamson x McCabe!reader

Warnings: Pure angst

Read part 1&2 here-You see me Wanted,Unwanted

The makeup wipe snagged on a stray eyelash, leaving a black streak against your cheek. Frustration bubbled up, mirroring the turmoil in your stomach. Leah's birthday party was in two hours, and doubt gnawed at you like a hungry rat.

The vintage Thiery Henry jersey framed in corner of your room, the one you didn't even debate on gifting to Leah, suddenly felt childish, a relic from a past life before Leah. A life where "pretty enough" wasn't a constant mantra echoing in your head.

What if she didn't like it," "What if she wanted you to buy her a fancy necklace...a ring...a bracelet, not a jersey that had been hanging up in your bedroom since you were seven." You shook your head "She'll love it her Mam said so."

You forced a smile, the reflection in the mirror unconvincing. Leah's Mam might have said it, but sometimes moms sugarcoated things, especially when it came to their precious daughters. You gnawed on your lip, the familiar metallic tang a grounding presence.

The jersey, a faded crimson with the legendary "14" emblazoned on the back, held memories. Memories of childhood afternoons spent glued to the TV, mesmerized by Henry's lightning-fast runs and audacious goals. It wasn't just a jersey; it was a symbol of a passion you shared with Leah, a connection forged over the love for a team, and the idolisation of the same player.

Taking a deep breath. Maybe it wasn't a diamond necklace, but it was genuine. You weren't some sugar daddy showering Leah with trinkets, you were her girlfriend, someone who understood the pure joy of a perfectly placed volley.

Suddenly, a different fear pricked at you. What if you weren't good enough to attend her party as her girlfriend, you were quite and happy to fade into the back with your small circle, Leah was a social butterfly, someone who didn't mind attention and fed off it well, were you good enough for her.

You rang out your hands shaking your head, of course, you were you had to be she wouldn't be dating you this long if she didn't think you were good enough for her, pretty enough for her, right?

"She loves me, she said so herself," you whispered to yourself as you looked at yourself in the mirror again before turning to the clock.

The pep talk you delivered yourself wasn't entirely convincing. You grabbed the frame, the crimson a little duller under the harsh light, and held it against your chest. It felt reassuringly familiar, the worn fabric whispering stories of epic matches and shared cheers.

Grabbing your phone, you scrolled through Leah's social media. Pictures of her beaming next to the girls, all perfectly styled and radiating confidence, filled the screen. Each one felt like a tiny jab of doubt. But then, tucked between selfies with the Arsenal, Lioness and Milton Keynes friends, was a picture of you two, arms linked, celebrating a goal during a recent match. Leah's smile was genuine, her eyes crinkled with laughter, focused solely on you.

"She loves you," you breathed, a mantra against the storm brewing inside.

Taking a deep breath, you messaged Leah. "On my way! Can't wait to celebrate with you." A heart emoji followed a small gesture that felt significant right now.

Arriving into the private room the music thumps loudly in your ears as you search for someone you might know, your sister or Leah preferably.

The door swung shut behind you, plunging you into a cacophony of pulsing music and excited chatter. Strobe lights cast the room in a dizzying array of colors, momentarily obscuring the faces in the crowd. The vintage jersey felt heavy against your chest, a symbol of your anxieties more than a birthday gift.

A knot formed in your stomach as you scanned the room. Faces blurred together – a sea of unfamiliar laughter and flashing smiles. Panic clawed at your throat. Where was Leah? Where was anyone you recognized?

Just as despair threatened to engulf you, a familiar figure emerged from the throng. Your sister, clad in a brightly colored dress that clashed spectacularly with the club's dim lighting, spotted you and waved enthusiastically, a beacon in the sea of strangers. Relief washed over you as you hurried towards her, the pounding music muted by the whoosh of returning confidence.

"Hey you!" Katie greeted you with a hug, her voice barely audible over the music. "There you are! I was starting to think you got lost."

"Almost did," you admitted, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. You cast a glance around the room again, searching for Leah amongst the dancing bodies. "Have you seen Leah?"

"She's over by the food table," your sister pointed towards the opposite corner of the room. "Looks like she's being swarmed by admirers." She gave you a knowing wink.

A pang of insecurity flickered within you. Images of Leah's social media feed flashed in your mind – the dazzling smiles, the effortless coolness of her friends. Would you be overshadowed by the crowd? Were you good enough for her world?

Taking a steadying breath, you squared your shoulders. You weren't here to compete. You were here for Leah, for the shared passion that transcended the glitz and the noise. With a newfound determination, you thanked your sister and weaved your way through the throng of dancing bodies, the pulsating music thrumming in your chest, a rhythm that echoed the beat of your own heart.

Katie nudged you "Come on, I've actually got a surprise for you." You looked at her brows pushed together in confusion. Surprise. What surprise ? it wasn't your birthday.

You smiled as you arrived in front of Leah, butterflies erupting as she turned to look at you her own smile seeming to grow ten times bigger, suddenly every doubt you'd had throughout the night had disappeared and was replaced by swells of butterflies lots and lots of butterflies.

Leah moved pulling you into a tight hug "I was starting to think you might never show." You shook your head "I wouldn't miss it for anything." Leah squeezed your hand looking down at the frame before looking at Katie as the Irish girl cleared her throat.

"Before Y/n gives you her present, I thought I would give you mine." Katie paused as Leah felt her heart sink, squeezing your hand to gain your attention you turned still smiling only for it to falter at the look on the older girl's face "Y/n..I...I'm so sorry." You titled your head slightly confusion written across your face as Katie began to speak again.

"I never thought you would go through with it mate, but the fact you have made Y/n fall so hard for you is impressive, what's even more impressive is the fact you've strung her along for this long., so without further a do, here the 100 pounds for holding up your end of the deal, and here's an extra 50 just for keeping it going for so long, fair play."

You flicked your head between Leah and Katie trying to figure out what was going on.

The air hung heavy with betrayal. The pulsating music seemed to mock you, a cruel soundtrack to your shattering world. Leah's hand, moments ago warm and welcoming, felt clammy and distant in yours. You fought the urge to yank it free, the familiar crimson of the jersey a burning reminder of your misplaced trust.

A million questions swirled in your mind, threatening to drown you. But all that escaped your lips was a choked whisper, "Leah?"

Her gaze wouldn't meet yours. Shame, or maybe something more sinister, flickered across her face before she mumbled an apology, its sincerity lost in the deafening silence that had descended upon the small group.

"What's going on, what is she talking about." Leah wouldn't look at you so you looked at Katie "Katie." Katie let out a laugh at the look on your face "Wow Le you really got her good, she looks so heartbroken."

The world tilted on its axis. The laughter you heard morphed into a distorted jeer, the music into a relentless cacophony. Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs, mirroring the frantic beat of a trapped bird.

Leah's silence was an accusation in itself. The warmth of her hug just moments ago felt like a cruel mirage. You clutched the jersey tighter, a shield against the icy tendrils of betrayal that snaked their way through you.

Finally, forcing your voice past the lump in your throat, you rasped, "Leah, please... tell me it's not true." You yearned for her to deny it, to laugh it off as some elaborate, misguided prank. But the hollowness in her eyes confirmed your worst fears.

Shame burned hot on your cheeks. How could you have been so blind? The self-doubt that had gnawed at you all night morphed into a monstrous realisation – you hadn't been paranoid, you'd just been too trusting.

Anger, hot and fierce, bubbled up within you. Katie's smug laughter grated on your nerves. "A bet, You were a bet." The words tumbled out, laced with laughter and a humour that surprised you.

Katie's words hung in the air, a cruel punchline to a terrible joke. A hundred pounds. A bet. You weren't Leah's girlfriend. You were a pawn in some twisted game. The vintage jersey, a symbol of shared passion moments ago, now felt heavy with the weight of a lie.

Heat flooded your cheeks, a burning tide of humiliation. You wanted to curl up into a ball, to cry to disappear from Leah, Katie, and the entire room that seemed to be closing in on you. But there was no hole to swallow you up. All you could manage was a choked laugh, a pathetic sound that echoed your shattered heart.

Leah, her face now pale, stammered something, an apology maybe, but it was lost in the roaring storm of emotions within you. You didn't need to hear it. You saw the truth reflected in her eyes – a truth far uglier than any betrayal. Pity, perhaps. Regret, at most. But no love.

“I mean come on pal hardly you actually thought that.” Katie smiled at you "Why would she choose you, for crying out loud she didn't even know who you were till you came off your loan, that's how how unseen you are."

You straighten your back, the framed jersey suddenly feeling foreign in your hands. Mustering all your strength, you meet Katie's gaze, your voice surprisingly steady. "A hundred pounds? That's all I was worth to you, Leah?"

Leah flinches, her eyes welling up. You wait for a denial, an explanation, anything. But there's nothing. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the throbbing music that seems to mock your pain.

The familiar metallic tang of blood filled your mouth as you bit down on your lip. You needed to escape. The pulsating music, the flashing lights, the throng of oblivious dancers, it all felt suffocating. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

With a strength born of desperation, you shove the frame into Leah's hands muttering a small happy birthday before pushing past her, ignoring her outstretched hand, ignoring Katie's voice calling after you. Your vision blurred with unshed tears as you weaved through the crowd, the thumping music a dull counterpoint to the storm raging inside.

Reaching the doorway, you stumbled out into the cool night air, the sudden quiet a physical blow. Gasping for breath, you leaned against the wall. What were you meant to do now.

Inside Amanda came pushing through the Arsenal girls before reaching her daughter “Where is she off to then we are about to do the cake.” Leah turned to look at her mum cheeks blotchy and tears in her eyes “Mum….i.”

The words poured out of Leah's mouth like a waterfall as she explained the horrible bet to Amanda, who began to feel nauseous at the thought of her daughter being so cruel, to you, the girl who was so scared to meet them, you who felt to unimportant to sit in the living room with them you would prefer to hold up the doorway, her daughter had just broken the heart of the most genuine kind girl she had met, in the most horrible way possible.

"I'm sorry you did what." Leah's eyes dropped to the ground unable to look at her mother's disappointed face. "I.....Leah of all the things and to Y/n.....Y/n she god Leah she was it she was your one....she's the one we all wanted the one we were all gunning for how.....how could you be so cruel and to Y/n I'm so disappointed, I actually can't even look at you." Leah turned “Mum…I.” But Amanda was gone.

The cool night air slapped you awake, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the club. Tears welled up again, blurring the neon glow of the street signs. A hundred pounds. A bet. The words echoed in your head, a relentless drumbeat drowning out everything else.

Suddenly, a hand touched your shoulder. You flinched, expecting Leah, but it was your sister, Katie, a worried frown etched on her face. "Y/n, wait!"

You glared at her, the anger a hot coal in your chest. "Don't even try it, Katie."

"Look, I know this is messed up," she began, but you cut her off.

"Messed up? That's an understatement." Your voice trembled, but you held her gaze. "How could Leah do this? How could you?"

Katie sighed, her shoulders slumping. "It was stupid, a stupid bet. I never thought she'd actually go through with it."

You scoffed. "Right, because Leah is Miss Perfect, incapable of making bad choices." The sarcasm dripped from your voice.

"She is a good person, Y/n," Katie insisted, but the conviction was lacking.

You shook your head, the betrayal cutting deep. "No, she's not. Not if she can treat someone like a pawn in some sick game."

"You're supposed to be my sister, I thought when I finally got to Arsenal you might love me as much as the others, that we could be actual sisters." Katie looked at your face full of regret "I do love you Y/n." You shook your head "No you don't, if you loved me you wouldn't have ever done this to me, you would never do this to Ella, or Lauryn would you?."

Katie reached out, but you flinched away. "Don't touch me."

Katie felt the guilt begin to eat away at her "Let me at least bring you home." You shook your head stepping away from her a single tear running down your cheek "No need I already called Mam."

Katie's eyebrows pushed together in confusion "Mam's at home." You smiled sadly at her "No she's not she flew out last night, i thought it was time she meet my girlfriend."

Katie felt nauseous as she began to realise just how far this sick joke had gone, you really fell in love.

“You really love her.” Katie said surprised, you nodded as tears began to roll down your cheeks “She is the first person that saw me, in the chaos of our lives she saw me, She wanted me for the first time in my life I was wanted, picked by someone who wasn’t my parents or my siblings because the felt bad, or so I thought turns out she’s indifferent, I’m nothing to her but 100 pounds.” Katie went to step forward again but turned at the sound of your Mam shouting. “Leave her alone right now Katie McCabe or so help me god.”

“Mam.” Your Mother shook her head “I don’t want to hear a word from you do you understand.” Katie shut her mouth nodding as she dropped her head.

You threw yourself into her arms, the dam breaking as you sobbed into her shoulder. The betrayal, the humiliation, the pain – it all came pouring out in a torrent of tears.

Your mom held you tight, her voice a soothing balm. "It's okay, love. Let it all out."

Katie watched from a distance, the weight of her guilt crushing her. The prank that started as a harmless joke had spiralled into a devastating betrayal. She had hurt you, her own sister, and she knew she might never be able to make things right.

Your mother held you for what felt like hours, whispering reassurances as you choked out sobs. The city lights blurred through the veil of your tears, each flicker reflecting a shard of your shattered heart. Finally, your cries subsided into hiccups, leaving behind a raw ache and a dull throbbing in your head.

Pulling back, your mother cupped your tear-streaked face, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "Why they did this, sweetheart, is because they're cruel and shallow. But their actions don't define your worth. You, Y/n, are strong, kind, and deserving of real love. Don't you ever forget that."

Her words, laced with love and unwavering belief, were a soothing balm to your wounded spirit. You leaned into her touch, finding solace in the familiar warmth. Taking a shaky breath, you wiped at your eyes. "I just...don't understand. Why would Leah do this?"

Your mother sighed, a hint of disappointment flickering in her eyes. "Sometimes, people make terrible choices, honey. But Leah will have to live with the consequences of her actions, just like Katie."

You head straight for your room when you get home, ignoring the buzzing of your phone you mutter a quick goodnight to your Mam before shutting your door and crawling under the covers, before beginning to cry again.

Tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless. You should've known. The self-doubt that had gnawed at you all night wasn't paranoia, it was your intuition screaming unheard. A hundred pounds. A bet. You weren't Leah's girlfriend, you were a punchline in a cruel joke.

Anger, hot and fierce, flared within you, momentarily pushing back the tide of sadness. You grabbed your phone, the need to confront Leah burning in your gut. But what was there to say? The silence at the club spoke volumes.

Your thumb hovered over Leah's name, then hovered some more. Finally, with a deep breath, you deleted her contact. A small act of defiance in a night that felt like a complete and utter defeat.

Exhaustion settled over you like a heavy blanket. You curled into a ball, the hollowness in your chest a constant ache. Sleep, when it came, was a restless affair, filled with fragmented memories of flashing lights, pulsating music, and Leah's cold, emotionless eyes.

You awake the next morning to your Mam at your bedroom door saying there was a woman at the door who wanted to talk to you.

You let out a huff tearing off the covers before heading to the kitchen. You stop dead at the sight of Amanda sitting in your kitchen having a cough before your bottom lip starts to wobble.

Amanda jumps up from her seat before wrapping her arms tightly around you "Oh darling I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." You shake your head "I'm sorry too Amanda, I'm so sorry I wasn't good enough for her."

Amanda pulls back, cupping your face gently. "Sweetheart, you are more than good enough. Leah's actions are a reflection of her own shallowness, not your worth. You have a kind heart, a brilliant mind, and a passion that shines brighter than any trophy."

Her words sink in, a flicker of warmth battling the lingering chill of betrayal. You nod, wiping away a stray tear. "Thanks,Amanda."

"Can I get you some tea, love?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

You nod gratefully, sinking into a chair at the table. As Amanda bustles around the kitchen, you steal a glance at the woman who, until yesterday, was your girlfriend's mother. The sight of her fills you with a mix of emotions – anger, sadness, and a flicker of curiosity.

Amanda returns, placing a steaming mug in front of you. You mutter out a small thank you before clearing your throat "How is she?." Amanda's face softens "Y/n we don't have to..." You shake your head "Please."

She hesitates, her brow furrowed. "She's a mess, to be honest. She told me everything last night, and I was… well, let's just say I'm not happy with her. Not one bit."

Relief washes over you, a small comfort amidst the wreckage of your heart. "What did she say?"

Amanda takes a sip of her tea, her gaze distant. "She said it was a stupid bet, that she never meant to hurt you. But frankly, intentions don't matter much when the result is this much pain."

"A hundred pounds. That's all I was worth to her?" Your words come out in a chocked sob.

Amanda reaches across the table, squeezing your hand. "Honey, you are priceless. Don't you ever let anyone tell you differently.

Later that day, your phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number. You open it cautiously, your breath catching in your throat when you see the name: Leah.

The messages are all the same, short and to the point: "Y/n, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

You stare at the screen, a war raging within you. Part of you wants to unleash a torrent of anger, to make her understand the depth of your pain. But another part, a smaller, wounded part, aches for her.

The next few days are a blur. Ignoring your teammates who all seemed to know about the bet, you couldn't help but question if they had been part of it too in opening up and getting to know you, including you in things. Your mam becomes your rock, offering endless cups of tea, movie marathons, and fiercely supportive silences.

You're asleep on the couch when you begin to hear shouting, you sit up rubbing your eyes before going to stand before moving more quickly as you here your Mam let out a shout for someone to leave

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you bolted towards the front door. The shouting was unmistakeable - your Mum's voice laced with anger, and another, muffled voice pleading its case. Bursting into the hallway, you skidded to a stop, taking in the scene before you.

There, on the doorstep, stood Leah. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her hair a mess, a stark contrast to the composed figure she usually presented. Your Mam, arms crossed and face thunderous, stood blocking the doorway. Amanda stood behind Leah tugging on her arm trying to get her out of your driveway.

"Absolutely not, Leah!" your Mam boomed, her voice echoing in the small hallway. "You had your chance, and you blew it in the most horrendous way."

Leah flinched, tears welling up in her eyes again. "I know, Mrs. McCabe, I know. I was awful, and I deeply regret it. But please, just let me talk to Y/n. I need to apologise properly."

Leah's words die in her throat at the sight of you standing behind your Mam so small, so sad, so broken "Y/n" Your Mam turns immediately and Amanda's hands seem to grip Leah's arm tighter as she goes to step into your house.

You step back as Leah steps forward again "You haven't answered any of my texts...I..." You can't help but laugh internally at Leah's lack of words, but it also feels even more crushing than the night of her birthday party, that's all she can say, that you haven't answered her texts.

The cynical part of you snorts. You clench your fists, the anger threatening to bubble over. But before you can unleash it, your Mam speaks, her voice firm but laced with a hint of sadness.

"Leah, honey, I understand you're sorry. But actions speak louder than words, and yours spoke volumes. Y/n needs time to heal. She trusted you, and you betrayed that trust in a cruel way."

Leah hangs her head, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know, Mrs. McCabe. I was an idiot. A terrible person. But please, believe me when I say I never meant to hurt Y/n like this. It started as a stupid bet...a dare, really. But it spiraled, and I…"

"And you let it go on," your Mam finishes, her voice colder now. "You let it go on for who knows how long, playing with Y/n's affections. That's not a mistake, Leah. That's a conscious choice."

The truth hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating weight. Leah opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. You see a flicker of something in her eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps just a glimpse of the pain you're feeling mirrored back at you.

Amanda looks at you sadly as she tugs Leah's arm "Come on Le." Leah pulled her arm out of her mum's grip "I love you." You felt your heart sink as your eyes welled up with more tears, shaking your head you stepped out from behind your own mam, "No you don't." Leah shook her head "I do." you stepped forward this time within arm's length.

Leah doesn't hesitate to step closer before putting her hands on your waist and pulling you in, you don't fit it, you can't this is all you've wanted since her birthday so you sink into you wrap your arms around her as she rests her head on your shoulder.

Your voice, laced with a quiet strength that surprised even yourself, cut through the tension. "Love isn't a word you throw around after breaking someone's heart, Leah. Love is about respect, about trust, about building something real together. You built a house of cards on lies, and now you're surprised it crumbled?"

Tears streamed down Leah's face, her voice trembling. "Y/n, please. I know I messed up. I was stupid, and I let pride get the better of me. But the time we spent together, the way you made me laugh, the way you understood my passion for the game... that was real. I never meant for it to go this far."

You scoffed, a humorless sound. "Convenient, isn't it? To pick and choose what parts were real and what were just a game. Because let's be honest, Leah, that's all I ever was to you, wasn't I? A pawn in your little bet."

Leah flinched, but you pressed on, your voice gaining momentum. "Maybe you never meant to 'hurt' me, but you did. You shattered my trust, made me question everything I thought we had. And for what? A hundred pounds and a cheap thrill?"

Silence descended once more, heavy and suffocating. You pulled back seeing the flicker of shame in Leah's eyes, but it did little to ease the ache in your heart.

Leah's lips trembled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I... I care about you, Y/n. I really do."

"Care isn't enough, Leah," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging within. "You had a chance at something real, something special. You threw it away for a hundred pounds and a cheap laugh. How can I ever trust you again?"

Leah opened her mouth to protest, but your mother's hand on her shoulder silenced her. Amanda gave you a sympathetic smile before ushering a defeated Leah towards the car. As they drove away, you retreated back into the house, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily upon you.

You stood there for a long time, the weight of the encounter settling on you. The betrayal still stung, before you could turn to your mam and begin to cry into her shoulder once more you felt another hand on your shoulder turning, you didn't hesitate before throwing yourself into Mary's arms.

The tears came again, a torrent of hurt and confusion released into Mary's embrace. Mary held you tight, whispering soothing words that did little to penetrate the fog of pain.

"It's okay to cry, love," she murmured. "Let it all out."

You clung to her, the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo grounding you amidst the emotional chaos. The image of Leah's tearful face lingered, her declaration of love a discordant note in the symphony of your heartbreak.

Pulling back slightly, you wiped your glistening cheeks. "Do you think she really cares?"

Mary sighed, a deep breath that spoke volumes. "Honey, sometimes people say things in the heat of the moment, especially when they're trying to win someone back. True remorse takes time and action, not just empty words."

Her words were a balm, a dose of reality amidst the swirling emotions. You hadn't expected Leah's sudden appearance, nor the raw vulnerability she displayed. Part of you ached for the connection you thought you shared, the spark you felt whenever you were together. But the other, more sensible part, echoed your mother's sentiment. Actions spoke louder than words, and Leah's actions had spoken volumes.

You don't return to Arsenal, instead, you attend a meeting with your agent, Jonas and the board at Arsenal, you inform them of your wishes to be transferred this summer and when asked why you tell them everything, from the unwelcoming atmosphere your teammates have had from the start to a stupid bet that destroyed two relationships you really thought you had made since joining.

The air in the sterile conference room was thick with tension. Jonas, your agent, sat beside you, his jaw clenched tight. Across the table, the Arsenal board – a group of stern-faced men in expensive suits – listened intently to your story. You spoke with a quiet strength, your voice betraying a tremor of lingering hurt as you recounted the events of the past week.

From the initial awkwardness with your teammates to the cruel betrayal orchestrated by Leah and Katie, you held back nothing. You even explained how the constant feeling of being an outsider, someone tolerated but not truly welcomed, had chipped away at your confidence.

When you finished, a heavy silence descended upon the room. One of the board members, a man with a salt-and-pepper beard, finally broke it. "This is a serious allegation, Ms. L/N. Do you have any proof of this 'bet' you speak of?"

You shook your head. "No, sir. It was a private conversation. But the way Leah and Katie acted, the way they looked at me… it all adds up."

Another board member, a woman with a sharp bob and piercing blue eyes, leaned forward. "And you believe this… bet… is the reason behind the strained relationship with your teammates?"

"It could be a part of it," you admitted. "Maybe they knew, maybe they didn't. But the overall feeling was… unwelcome."

Jonas cleared his throat. "Look, Ms. L/N has a very successful record on the pitch. But a player also needs to feel comfortable off it. This situation clearly isn't working for her."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the board members. The man with the beard steepled his fingers. "We understand your concerns, Ms. L/N and Mr. Hernandez. However, a transfer is a significant decision. We need to explore all options."

The next few minutes were a blur of discussions – potential solutions, alternative clubs, and the financial implications of a transfer. Finally, the woman with the bob spoke up.

"Here's what we can do. We'll launch a discreet investigation into these allegations. If your claims are substantiated, we'll take appropriate disciplinary action against those involved. Additionally, we'll work with the coaching staff to ensure a more inclusive environment for all players."

You exchanged a surprised glance with Jonas. This was more than you expected.

"As for the transfer," she continued, "we understand your desire for a fresh start. We're willing to consider loan offers from reputable clubs, provided they meet our financial requirements."

Relief washed over you. A loan deal wouldn't be ideal, but it would give you a chance to escape the toxic environment at Arsenal and prove yourself elsewhere. You looked at Jonas, silently seeking his advice.

He gave you a quick nod. "That sounds like a fair compromise."

A tense negotiation ensued, with Jonas expertly navigating the complexities of transfer fees and loan agreements. Finally, a deal was struck. You would be loaned to a top-tier Spanish club for the upcoming season, with an option to buy included in the contract.

As you shook hands with the board members, a sense of closure washed over you. This wasn't the fairytale ending you'd envisioned when you signed for Arsenal, but it was a new chapter. A chance to rewrite your story, a chance to rise above the betrayal and prove your worth on the world stage.

You disappear after the meeting, your house is empty you aren't in London or in Dublin, turning down the opportunity to play for Ireland, instead you hide out in Manchester at Mary's, attending solo training as well as Mary's solo training, you don't answer your phone to anyone on the Arsenal squad, Ireland squad, Katie or Leah's no collar id.

When the transfer/loan list is made public your phone blows up once again, you don't answer it until Katie's name flashes up on your screen, you hadn't spoken in weeks but you also knew this was important.

"You're leaving, you're leaving Arsenal, you're leaving." you sigh heading out to sit on the back step "I am." Katie stops for a second before you hear her voice crack "Y/n, I never wanted this, I never wanted you to leave." You shake your head "What did you think was going to happen, that I was going to sit back once again, I've been hurt enough, I have done everything for everyone even if it hurt me and this time I decided not to, I need to stop putting everyone else happiness, their comfortability over my own, I'm done."

There's a small pause before Katie speaks again "Y/n...I never meant for this to happen the way it did, you have to know that." You brush your hands through your hair "I don't, I didn't I'll say the same thing i told you the night of Leah's birthday, you wouldn't do what you did to me to Ella or Lauryn, or any of our other siblings, so I still don't know what I must have done for you to do it to me, what I must have done for you to hate me so much that you thought this would be funny." Katie tried again "Y/n." your bottom lip quivered "I'm tired Katie, so so tired of feeling like this, I don't want to feel like this anymore, I want to be happy, can you just let me go on this loan and let me be happy?" Katie could hear the hurt in your voice and she thought back to every time you finally spoke up and yet still pushed aside for something else, someone else. "Ok." you nod "Where are you going to go." you wiped your tears off your cheek. "I don't know yet, I just need to get out of England." Katie let out a small Oh "You're leaving the league." You smiled softly "If I'm going to give myself the best chance, I need to."

"I'm proud of ya." you laugh slightly "For what." Katie stops "I...I..." You smile softly wiping the stray tear "It's ok, I think I've finally made my peace with that, with this."

Shame burned in Katie's gut. She thought the prank would be harmless, a way to lighten the mood, had backfired spectacularly. You weren't Ella or Lauryn, or any of her other siblings, the ones who could shrug things off. You were Y/n, the quiet observer, the one who carried the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Seeing your vulnerability, the raw pain in your voice as you spoke of wanting happiness, chipped away at the last vestiges of Katie's justification. The truth, stark and ugly, stared back at her. It hadn't been a prank, it had been a cruel act fueled by a childish need to be funny, a way to lash out at the feeling of you constantly wanting to follow her around, do everything she wanted to do, now she realised you did it for comfort, you idolised her so much you wanted to do everything she did like Lauryn had done, so why had it irked her so much that you did the same.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the ragged sniffles escaping your nose. "I need you to do me a favour, you at least owe me that." Katie nodded franticly before nearly bursting your eardrum accepting "Anything." You wipe your cheeks again cursing internally at how emotional you were.

"When I leave, Leah can't know until I'm gone, she...she can't know until then 'cause I'm not ready to talk to her, please Katie promise me this." Katie agrees, You are right it is the least she can do. "I promise, just go smash it yeah." You let out a small laugh "I'll try."

Arsenal's Y/n McCabe joins FC Bayern Munich.

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nsharks · 1 year ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important—"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it.

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words.

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little.

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank.

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims.

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead.

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight.

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo.

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands.

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss.

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping.

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point.

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair.

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall.

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night.

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him.

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do."

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #zombie apocolypse au

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misscherry-26 · 4 months ago

Note

I saw you were taking requests for Bellamy Blake and I haddd to send one in!! Could you please write a lil spice fic, where they’re in the woods and get in a fight or sum n he js suddenly kissss her. Thank you twin!!

Unspoken Feelings

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for this!! My first request for Bellamy Blake. Oh the things I felt while working on this...👀 By the way I had to make a few changes, this is my most polished draft, haha. I'm so excited to share it, though I don't know how good I did with the spicy. I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting. ❤️

There could be grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language.

He really thinks he’s the leader, the king of the earth. Self-centered egoist of a man. He can go fuck himself. You think as you walk through the woods in search of the plant that Clarke needs for Finn, who was attached by the grounder that kidnapped Octavia.

They managed to get him to the ship, but now he was struggling for his life. The problem was that the knife he was stabbed with was infected. Bellamy and his group got the grounder and tortured him to get information. Of course he refused to give it, that until Octavia threatened him to harm herself with the poisoned knife. Finn would live, but Clark needed more medicinal plants for him.

But of course, Bellamy Blake had to give his ultimatum that no one would leave the camp, no after realizing that you aren’t the only survivors of earth. He could care less about saving people, but you for sure didn’t. You don’t know Finn completely but, he deserves to live.

Since the ship landed on Earth, You and Bellamy have been at each other’s throat every single moment. It’s like you are locked in a never-ending battle, a constant clash of wills. Every decision he makes seems to deliberately oppose yours, every step he takes is a challenge to your very presence. He thrives in the chaos, you can see it in the way he strides trough camp, shoulders squared, head held high, daring anyone to question him. His motto—whatever the hell we want—rings in your ears like a taunt, a reckless mantra you can’t ignore. He embodies it with every decision, with every command he gives without caring for the consequences.

When he encouraged the others to rip off their bracelets, you felt the sting of frustration burning through your veins. To him it was a bold declaration of independence from the Ark, but to you, it was a hasty move to those above thinking Earth wasn’t livable.

And then, there was the Grounder. The way he’d dragged the man into camp, beaten and bloodied, as if his very existence was a crime that needed punishing. You left the room when he ordered the torture, convinced that brute force was the only answer. The look in his eyes then—cold, calculating, determined—was a look that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

He’s always there, hiding on the edges of your vision, challenging you. It’s infuriating, the way he dismisses anything resembling compromise or collaboration as weakness, how he scoffs at your attempts to hold onto something resembling order or morality.

Yet, there’s something in his attitude —something in the way he glances at you, a flicker of underdetermination, a tension that thrums between you like a wire. It’s in the way he steps closer when you argue, his body taut, like he’s gearing up for a fight he both craves and dreads. You feel it too—the tightness in your chest, the burn of frustration that’s more than just anger, something deeper, more complicated. You don’t know whether you want to scream at him or—

But no, you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he gets under your skin.

You take a look at the sky losing its light with each minute that it passes.

Taking a deep breath, you continue.

After what feels like hours of searching, you finally spot the familiar shape of the plant you’re looking for. You remember the details Clark gave you. Crouching down you carefully pull a small bag from your pocket. You work quickly, plucking the plants and stuffing them into the bag, your movements precise and purposeful.

But then—a sudden rustling, a low whisper of movement through the leaves nearby. Your heart stutters, and your breath catches in your throat.

Instinct takes over. You drop low, pressing yourself against the cold ground, hiding behind the broad leaves of the plant. Grounders, maybe.

They could be watching, waiting.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps, for the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves that would betray their presence. But instead, you hear a low chuckle—soft, mocking, and far too familiar.

Your eyes snap open, and you whip around, breath catching in your chest.

There, arms on his waist, is Bellamy. His eyes, dark and sharp, are fixed on you like a predator who has found his prey. His brows are drawn together, the muscles in his neck tense, and there's a fire in his gaze that blazes hotter than any annoyance you've seen before.

“I see you like to test my patience, Princess.” His deep voice cuts through the silence, pulling your gaze upward. He's standing right in front of you.

You get up immediately, your breathing and muscles relaxing at the notice that you are not in danger.

“What are you doing here?” You ignore his previous comment, turning around and continuing on getting more plants.

“I remember telling everyone to not leave camp, and that includes you too, you know? There’s no special treatment here.” You hear him from behind.

“I wasn’t going to sit around. Clark needs this for Finn.”

“He’s stable enough; we don’t need anyone else getting hurt over this.” Bellamy insists, his tone sharp.

You clench your teeth and turn. “Look, I couldn’t care less what you think. I don’t go by your rules.”

Bellamy scoffs and grabs your arm. You let go of his grasp as soon as he starts walking.

“Don’t touch me!”

Bellamy watches you, wondering why you are being stubborn right now. Hell, he even wonders why he came here for the first place. Was he worried about you? Why did he come here? He questions himself. Bellamy’s mind races, battling with the tangled web of his feelings. He’s been fighting to keep everyone safe, to enforce rules that seem cold but necessary, and yet, here he is, breaking his own rule because of you.

Truth is, you have been nothing but a burden to him every single day since they put a foot on earth. Your defiance, your refusal to follow orders, your reckless bravery—all of it has been a thorn in his side. Every day, you challenged his authority and decisions, and yet, despite all the friction, despite the constant arguments and the resentment, there’s something about you that pulls at him.

He can’t quite distinguish it, but it’s there—a magnetic pull that makes him question his own motives and feelings. It’s in the way you stand up for what you believe in, even when it puts you at risk. It’s in the fire and determination in your eyes, something that resonates with him on a deeper level than he’s willing to admit.

The frustration he feels is braided with an unspoken admiration, a bittering respect that complicates his emotions even further. Bellamy is torn between his duty and the sudden impulses of something else—something he can’t easily define or control. It’s a vulnerability he hasn’t allowed himself to explore, and it confuses him.

All he knows is that despite the danger and the defiance, he can’t seem to turn his back on you. His frustration is laced with a deeper, more complex emotion that makes him question why he’s so determined to keep you safe.

He thought you would be this scared of everyone and everything type of girl, but you prove him all the opposite.

“Let’s go back—”

“I won’t.” You cut him off, not giving him a chance to say anything. You turn again and continue with your job.

Of course, you hoped that he would go and leave you alone. You hoped.

Next thing you know, your feet aren’t touching the ground and you are being lifted up by him. A few leaves escape your grasp, so you make sure to close the bag.

“Let me go!” You protest.

“Stop screaming, you are putting us in danger” He doesn’t listen to your request, instead he walks back to camp.

You scoff, moving frantically. “If you cared so much about safety, you wouldn’t be carrying me off like I’m just another pack to you!”

Bellamy's jaw clenches, and he stops abruptly, eyes scanning the surrounding woods.

“You’re the one making noise,” he retorts, setting you down but not releasing his grip entirely. “Keep quiet or—”

You hear it then—a rustling of leaves, far too close, far too deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s not just the wind. Bellamy stiffens beside you, his grip on your arm tightening reflexively.

For a split second, your eyes meet, and you both know: the Grounders.

“Run,” he whispers, urgency dripping from the word.

But there’s no time to argue. You both take off, feet pounding against the damp earth, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The sounds behind you grow closer—footsteps, which makes your heart race even faster.

Up ahead, you spot a dark opening—a cave, half-hidden by foliage. You yank Bellamy toward it without thinking, and for once, he doesn’t resist. Both dive inside, pressing against the cold rock. The cave is narrow, suffocating, but it’s cover.

Outside, you hear the murmurs and footsteps of the Grounders drawing near. You hold your breath, every muscle tense. Bellamy’s hand is still around your wrist, and you can feel his pulse racing just as fast as yours.

“We’re not going anywhere until it clears. We need to stay inside.” he mutters, barely audible.

Bellamy presses a hand against the small of your back, steering you deeper into the cave, his touch firm, almost commanding. You feel the heat of his palm through your shirt, and it sends a jolt of anger through you.

“Get your hand off me.” You snap, jerking away from his touch. But the cave is too narrow, and he doesn't give you much space to maneuver.

His jaw tightens, and he steps even closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I’m trying to keep you from getting killed.”

You dig your heels in, resisting just to spite him. “I don’t need you to save my life, Bellamy.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it—just a sharp, bitter edge. “You think I want to be stuck here with you? Trust me, Princess, this is the last place I want to be.”

You whirl around, stepping closer, your chest brushing against his, both of you too angry to care. “Then why are you here?” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “Why do you always have to control everything? Who made you the boss of me?"

His hand, still on your back, clenches into a fist, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away.

“Maybe because I’m trying to keep you alive!” he spits out, his face inches from yours, his breath hot. “You are always doing this—taking risks, getting in my way. Do you have a death wish?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, anger flaring into something more intense. “No, but maybe you do,” you whisper fiercely. “Coming out here, risking your life for someone you supposedly can’t stand. What is it, Bellamy? Why do you even care?”

He grits his teeth, and you see something flicker in his eyes—a momentary crack in his armor. “I don’t!” he snaps, but his voice lacks conviction, faltering on the last word.

“Liar,” you accuse, stepping even closer, your forehead nearly touching his. “If you didn’t care, you’d have let me go. You wouldn’t have come after me, wouldn’t have—”

His grip tightens on your arm, and his other hand moves to your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” His voice is low, almost a growl. “You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

You tilt your chin defiantly, eyes blazing. “Why don’t you just admit it? All this, you’re not really angry. You’re scared. Scared of what might happen if you lose control. Scared of what it means if something happens to m—"

But he doesn’t let you finish. In the blink of an eye, he’s on you, lips crashing against yours with a force that takes your breath away. The kiss is rough, almost bruising, a mixture of frustration and something deeper—something desperate. You freeze for a moment, caught off guard, before the shock melts into anger again, and you shove against his chest.

He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he presses you harder against the cold, cave wall, his body flush against yours. His hands move up, one sliding to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while his mouth claims yours with a furious intensity, like he’s trying to silence every word, every protest.

Your heart is racing, your thoughts a tangled mess. You should push him away again, should shove him back and yell in his face, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as fiercely, your hands fisting in his shirt. It’s like all the anger, all the arguments have boiled over into this—this raw, heated clash of mouths and tongues.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are panting, breaths coming fast, and his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still dark with emotion.

“Why do you care?” you whisper again, but this time your voice is softer, less certain.

His thumb brushes your cheek, and his gaze is intense, almost searching. “I don’t know,” he mutters, but there’s something vulnerable in his tone, something that makes your heart ache even as your anger simmers beneath the surface.

“Maybe I’m frustrated…so damn frustrated because—” He hesitates, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “—because you’ve got a way of getting under my skin, and it’s driving me crazy. But yeah, there it is. I’m worried. Happy?”

His lips are so close you can feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world has narrowed to just the two of you, trapped together in this cave, trapped by something you can’t name.

"Bell..." you start, but he silences you again, this time with a softer kiss, one that seems to ask for something instead of demand it.

His hands slips down to the curve of your waist pulling you even closer, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, heat pounding low in your belly.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers locking on his dark strands. The kids deepens, growing more urgent, desperate, as if both of you are trying to pour all this unspoken feelings into a single, shared breath.

And you know that whatever this is, you are not ready to stop it. Not yet.

#misscherry 26's answers #misscherry 26's requests #bellamy blake angst #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x female reader #bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy blake imagine #Bellamy Blake fic #the 100 bellamy #bellamy blake smut

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mrsgucci24 · 27 days ago

Text

~Touchdowns and Birthday Wishes~

Summary: Joe Burrow’s birthday is filled with love, a thoughtful gift, and a cozy celebration that reminds him of what truly matters.

Authors Note: Its Joey's BDAY!! From a fellow sag December babes are superior purrr

Warnings: None (I don't think)

The stadium buzzed with post-game excitement as the Bengals celebrated their big win over the Cowboys. But for Joe, the real celebration was just beginning. He knew you were waiting for him—just like always—and as he stepped out of the locker room, the sight of you made his exhaustion disappear.

“There he is!” you called, your voice full of warmth. You held a small gift bag in your hands, your smile brighter than the stadium lights.

Joe walked over, his grin widening. “Hey, you didn’t have to wait. It’s late.”

“It’s your birthday,” you said, stepping into his arms for a hug. “Of course I waited.”

He kissed the top of your head, then pulled back, his eyes falling to the bag. “What’s this?”

“Just something small,” you said, handing it to him. “Open it.”

Joe pulled out the tissue paper carefully, revealing a sleek, custom-made bracelet. It was simple yet meaningful, crafted from black leather with a small silver plate engraved with his jersey number on one side and the words Stay Cool, Stay Calm on the other—a nod to the mantra he always lived by.

Joe turned it over in his hands, his face softening. “This is… perfect,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” you replied with a shrug. “You deserve something special.”

He slipped the bracelet on beside the ones he already wore, then reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “Thank you,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you. “I love it. And I love you.”

The drive home was quiet, Joe’s hand resting comfortably on your knee. He looked more relaxed than he had in weeks, the weight of the game—and the season—momentarily lifted.

When you pulled into the driveway, the house was dark except for a warm glow in the windows. Joe frowned slightly as he stepped out of the car, glancing back at you. “Did you forget to turn off the lights?”

You just smiled. “Why don’t you go see?”

He opened the door and stepped inside, his confusion melting into surprise when a chorus of “Happy Birthday!” greeted him. His parents and a few close friends were gathered in the living room, a small banner strung across the mantle and a simple cake on the coffee table.

“Mom, Dad,” Joe said, his voice full of warmth as he pulled his parents into a hug. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Of course we did,” Robin said, smiling as she ruffled his hair. “We couldn’t let your birthday go by without seeing you.”

“Just a little something,” his dad added, clapping him on the back. “We figured you’d want to keep it low-key.”

Joe glanced back at you, his eyes soft. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Guilty,” you admitted, grinning. “But only because I knew you’d never ask for it yourself.”

He pulled you into his arms, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I’ve heard it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest. “Go enjoy your night, birthday boy.”

The evening was everything Joe could’ve asked for—simple, intimate, surrounded by the people he loved most. His mom fussed over him, his dad made his usual dry jokes, and you stayed by his side, stealing little moments together whenever you could.

As the night wound down and everyone began to leave, Joe caught your hand, pulling you toward the couch. He sat down, tugging you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“Thank you,” he said softly, resting his forehead against yours. “For all of this.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “But you deserve it, Joe. You work so hard, and you do so much for everyone else. It’s nice to spoil you for a change.”

His smile was small but full of affection. “This has been the best birthday I can remember.”

“Better than the win?” you teased, your fingers playing with the bracelet on his wrist.

“Way better,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. “The win’s for the team. This? This is for me.”

You smiled, holding him close. “Here’s to more wins, more birthdays, and more nights like this.”

He kissed you again, slow and tender, and you knew there was nowhere else either of you would rather be.

#cincinnati bengals #joe burrow #football #nfl football #2024 nfl season #nfl news #9 #ja’marr chase #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe shiesty #who dey #uno

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ninguitar · 2 months ago

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୨୧　GUESS　˒˒　AU ( PT.2 )

─── ﹙🎱﹚with the label of "casual" put on yours and giselle's relationship, all you could do was continue it, which meant letting your feelings linger, or break it off completely, but fuck, was it difficult with aeri uchinaga being just so, her. INSPIRED BY GUESS BY CHARLI XCX FEAT. BILLIE EILISH.

pairing. aeri uchinaga x f!r genre. fluff & a lil angst wc. 1k+ notes. hope this ending was good enough for u guys ♡ part 2 of guess !! (MASTERLIST.)

now playing ⋆ i've seen this movie before by hyejin

AERI, AS MUCH AS SHE DIDN'T WANT TO ADMIT IT, was smitten by you; sure, you were just a hook-up at night, but during the day, you were her best friend—the one person she could depend on. you were the girl who she confided in—the one who knew everything about her, down to the brim.

so why continue a casual relationship with you? giselle didn't know either; it just felt all too perfect, like a dream, being able to find solace within the warmth of you. why ruin something perfect, aeri thought. and in giselle's head, you were the only exception to every single, little thing in her head; she never cared for sappy, sentimentalities, but your existence had completely eroded that. as mere "friends," she'd let you get matching bracelets for the two of you, and she always claimed they were childish and silly. nonetheless, she wore them always.

it was like you guys were attached to the hip surgically.

truthfully, you were everything aeri wanted—the perfect girl. and she almost poured out everything to you—keyword, almost. you may not see it, but each and every "unrequited" confession of giselle's consume her thoughts daily.

and today, the thought of you consumes her mind. it was like a mantra in her head, hearing your name in it over and over again, until aeri could come to terms with herself. against her will, the memory of your guys' argument flashed through her mind. staring at the ceiling, giselle felt tears crack down her cheeks, curling into a fetal position.

fuck was she stupid.

she squeezes her eyes before grabbing her phone, hastily dialing ningning's number. if anybody could give her an honest opinion, it was obviously ning yizhuo. her phone ringing omits through her bedroom, as aeri huffs, rubbing her temples.

"hello?" ningning's voice echoes through giselle's phone, as the japanese girl quickly sits up, leaning against her bed's headboard.

"fuckin' finally, ning. you took like years to pick up," aeri exaggerates, extending her groan.

"be grateful i'm even giving you the time of day. what do you even want anyway?"

"just… issues with a girl—one of my "situation-ships," or whatever. we had some fight about our label, and i think i ended it with her, i don't know, ning. 's just all weird and shit," aeri rants, a sigh drifting from her lips, as she bites the inside of her cheeks.

a giggle escapes ningning's breath, "shit, you want her, don't you? that's like so, unexpected given your history."

as much as giselle didn't want to admit it, she did have a lot of hook-ups that mattered nothing to her, but you were an exception, just like you were to everything else.

"shut up; she's just, well, her," aeri mutters against her phone, pulling her blanket to her chest.

"just talk to her, gi. it's not that hard; just grow some balls," a chuckle escapes ningning's throat, before she continues, "anyway, 'rina says hi."

"are you serious? you're airing this out to jimin too?" giselle huffs, embarrassed, as her cheeks flush.

"winter, too," ningning snorts before hanging up the call, leaving aeri to dwell on the chinese girl's words. maybe ningning was right, and giselle should talk it out, but how would she get you to listen to her?

your eyes open to the faint knocking against the glass doors of your balcony arch. a soft groan lingers in the air, as you get off your bed, your eyebrows furrowing. as you approach the balcony, you reluctantly pull the curtains open.

a soft gasp escapes your breath, "aeri?" you mumble under your breath, as you freeze in your position. it was like, 1 in the morning—what was she doing here, especially after your guys' fight?

"jesus, if you think i'm letting you in—" before you could continue your threat, giselle huffs audibly, despite the glass barrier separating the two of you.

"please?"

and it was like no other plea, especially when aeri uchinaga gently mumbles it, her tone dulcet, making you indulge in your temptations. you slide your glass doors open, inevitably making giselle fall into your arms, her weight resting on yours.

"so, talk," you mutter, your voice dull and monotone.

"i—" aeri begins, her tongue heavy with the weight of the words she's trying to form, "i'm sorry, okay? i just couldn't come to terms with my feelings. i fell in love with you—not from the hook-ups, but from the real you."

"gi—aeri," you correct yourself before continuing, "no- no, no—"

giselle sighs, and it's as if months of pushing and pulling her heartstrings burst all at once, "you're the one i want—not those stupid, snobby one-night-stands i have."

"don't say no just to make me go away; i know you, and you know better. only say no if you don't want me."

you're practically at a lost of words, your mind sent into oblivion, as your hands rest on aeri's chest, keeping distance between the two of you. you're so sure you've already lost your voice, a hollow breath of air lodged in your throat.

instinctively, you press giselle against the rigid glass doors of your balcony, closing the distance between the two of you. your head continues to reel, though this time, it was due to aeri's eager, tentative kisses against your lips.

pulling apart, you mumble, "i'm not settling for a situation-ship, or something casual." your hands rest around aeri's neck, while giselle's arms are snaked around your waist all tuck.

"whatever you want, 'm fine with; i just want you."

her blunt admission sends a chain of shivers through your body, as you nod, "girlfriends, that's all."

"then we're girlfriends," aeri pauses while whispering against your ear, before planting kisses trailing down your jaw. the warmth of your guys' body envelopes you guys, as giselle presses her lips against yours, deepening the kiss. her eyes, baring a glaze of tears, bore into yours with sincerity.

"I JUST WANNA BE YOURS," AERI UCHINAGA SOFTLY HUMS.

i don't wanna say too much

shouldn't have to wait for your love

taglist. ୨ৎ @yoohtonyy @yeetaberry127 @ourlovesarang @multiliker @eunzkkrua

@le3-r1n @imfearlessblog @spidrgamer @r4cjh

#fics 　.#kpop imagines #kpop x reader #aespa x reader #aespa imagines #aespa giselle #aespa giselle x reader #giselle uchinaga #aeri uchinaga #giselle x reader #aeri uchinaga x reader

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erinfern0 · 1 year ago

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handholding; drabble.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, gender-neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

warnings: porn link, desperate and needy sex.

a/n: based on this, because it reminds me of my little headcanon I have about simon.

He just got back from weeks of being away, so pent up, needy, hungry for you. He didn't think twice as he saw you lie there on the bed, sleeping so soundly.

Simon's hands reached to just pull you closer to him, taking in the sweet scent of your shampoo and body lotion, mixed with the characteristics scent of your body. So calming, so homely, so delicious.

No wonder you woke up as soon as he started prepping kisses all over your face. You chuckled, nuzzling your body into his ans whispering: "Hi, Simon." against his hoodie, grasping at the material as if your life depended on it.

It was sweet, warm, and homely, exactly what you two needed, but as soon as you opened your eyes and they landed on him, the mood changed.

Your hand reached to find his wrist, playing with the material of the pretty little bracelet you got for him. Biting your lip, you slowly lied on the bed, pulling you in by the hem of his hoodie, smiling playfully.

Second later, Simon had you with your shirt lifted and sleeping shorts discarded somewhere. His lips were all over you, as he pumped his hard, thick length into your greedy little hole, that started sucking him more the closer you got.

That filthy mouth of his groaning out sweet praises into your ear, reminding you just how much he missed you. His body needed you a little more than his soul as he waited so patiently to have you squirming under him again.

His fingers were interlocked with yours, right above your head as you mewled underneath him, moaning out his name like a mantra, eyes glued to his, just to see the pretty bracelet move with each of his thrusts with the corner of your eye.

It was rough, sloppy, sweaty and desperate, exactly how you two needed it after such a long time apart.

masterlist | request info

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #gender neutral reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod ghost #cod imagine #ghost cod #cod x reader #ghost mwii #ghost mwiii #riri writes #cod visuals

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syrupfog · 2 months ago

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“Let’s make someone happy today.”

Sanji’s mom is getting sick and she says, “let’s make someone happy today.”

She teaches Sanji how to dig in the garden for the freshest vegetables, gifting them to the kitchen staff to make their dinner prep easier.

Sanji’s mom hasn’t been able to get out of her bed in weeks and she says, “let’s make somebody happy today.”

She teaches Sanji to bake a cake, messy and sweet and staining her sheets, and they share it among the maids and kitchen staff.

Sanji’s mom is gone and Sanji is down in the dungeons, heavy helmet clamped around his head. “Let’s make someone happy today,” he whispers.

He makes meagre meals, clean as he’s able, and feeds them to the mice. Someone gets to be happy.

Sanji runs and gets stuck on a rock and starves and survives. He has nightmares. Waking up with a racing heart and tears in his eyes, he shakily repeats, “let’s make someone happy today.”

The staff at the Baratie wake up to the smell of a breakfast fit for royalty.

Sanji travels and fights and finds his place on the Straw Hats, and there are more good days than bad.

But then nothing happens.

“Let’s make someone happy today,” he tells himself like a mantra as he cooks up a feast and wishes and will that stupid swordsman to just wake up.

Three days turn into two years and Sanji misses them misses them misses them. “Let’s make someone happy today,” he says as he grits his teeth and pulls on the stupid dress that doesn’t even compliment his waist

Sanji is wanted only alive.

“Let’s make someone happy today,” he says with a robotic steadfast perseverance as he cooks and cooks and cooks, desperate to at least make one solitary person happy as his bracelets clink on his wrists.

That one solitary person says she’s going to kill him at the altar.

“Let’s make someone happy today” echoes inside his chest like a pebble bouncing down a well, as he looks down at all of his crewmembers’ favourite dishes, destroyed and muddy.

“Let’s make someone happy today,” Sanji repeats to himself as he stirs the soba, his mind continually turning back to that broken canister with the 3 inscribed on the side. Turning back to that gap in his memory.

“Let’s make someone happy today.”

“Let’s make someone—“

The world is grey. It’s shades of black and white and Sanji’s eyes are glazed over.

He doesn’t understand what the big deal was. Doesn’t understand why these pirates are still coming after him. He’s already critically injured two of them— he has to get back, to give his report.

He remembers them, of course, but he doesn’t CARE. They are statistics in his mind. He has to get back to Germa, he’s been requested.

He swipes with a stolen sword at the green haired man, who parries and attacks with three.

He underestimated him.

There’s a sword through his chest, clean through his heart, and bIood pouring like water.

Let’s make someone—

Let’s—

“Cook! Twirly brows! S-SANJI!”

“Let’s make someone happy today.”

Sanji stands in the kitchen of the Sunny, balancing on the balls of his feet with the sway of the ocean, and he pours two full cups of saké, sliding one across the counter.

There’s an ache in his chest, a scar over his heart.

“I’m not happy,” Zoro growls, not touching the saké.

Sanji frowns. “It’s the good stuff,” he says. “The stuff I hide from you.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Zoro says. “You can’t just make a situation better by bribing me. I had to KILL YOU.”

“And now I’m back,” Sanji says, his hand ghosting over his chest where the shirt hides his scar. “This is thanks.”

“I’m not drinking it.”

“Well what DO you want?” Sanji asks, exasperation in his tone.

It’s the only thing that makes bad days okay.

Let’s make someone happy today.

Everything’s okay as long as he can make someone happy. He HAS to be able to make someone happy.

“I don’t want booze,” Zoro snaps. “And I don’t want your shit cooking.”

Sanji wants to snap at him but there’s a lump forming in his throat. He has to— to make someone—

What is he supposed to do, then?

Zoro stares him down, deep bags under his eyes. “I don’t want any of that shit,” he says.

Sanji’s shoulders hunch. He stares at the counter. The untouched saké.

“I want to know this won’t happen again,” Zoro says.

“I don’t— C“No,” Zoro cuts him off. “Not that! I want to know you’re not going to come to me again to ask me to fucking kilI you!” He leans forward and grabs Sanji’s wrist, his grip bruising.

“I don’t give a shit about the stuff you’re offering,” he says. “I want YOU. Here. Safe.”

hopper says it’s gone,” Sanji rasps. “Out of my system. Thanks to you—”

The tears behind sanji’s eyes fall unbidden. “Well you’ve got me,” he says. “Does that make you—“

Happy?

Zoro’s grip is unwavering. He leans forward and captures Sanji’s lips with his; rough, firm, reassuring.

He pulls back and glares at Sanji.

It’s a meaningful glare, if there ever was one.

Let’s make somebody happy today.

Sanji wipes the tears from his cheeks and downs his own cup of saké.

“Fine,” he says. “You’ve got me. Here. Safe.”

Zoro cracks a smile. “Good,” he says. “Asshole.”

“Let’s make someone happy today.”

#my writing #zosan

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ryin-silverfish · 6 months ago

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A side-by-side comparison of Nezha's backstory in JTTW and FSYY

(Sth I've been working on for a while, as quick reference material for Nezha's story in the two novels specifically that doesn't go into the broader mythos.)

JTTW's Nezha:

-Born with the characters "Ne/Na" on one hand, and "Zha" on the other

-Has 2 older brothers and 1 younger sister: Jinzha, who worked as a guardian deity and attendant of the Buddha, Mucha, who was the disciple of Guanyin, and Li Zhenying, who's said to be 7 years old in JTTW (Chapter 83).

-There's also Diyong/Lady Earth Flow, the adopted mice sister that had eaten the Buddha's candle, was captured by Li Jing and Nezha, and spared on the Buddha's order.

-She shows up in Chapter 80, as a demoness who kidnapped Tripitaka for the purpose of marriage, and is subsequently recaptured to face celestial judgement.

-Three days after his birth, Nezha went off into an unknown ocean, stepped on a crystal palace and toppled it, and caught a flood dragon to use its tendon as a belt

-After that, Li Jing tried to kill him for being a menace, and Nezha did the "Return his flesh and bones to his parents" thing in anger

-His soul then drifted off to the Buddha's place, who performed the Lotus Resurrection Thing by reciting a mantra

-He then subdued 96 caves of demons, and went after Li Jing to take revenge for the "forced suicide" thing

-Li Jing pleaded to the Buddha for help, who gave him a pagoda with Buddhas sculptured on every level, and told Nezha to call the Buddha (on the pagoda) as his father from now on.

-The weapons he used in his Three-headed Six-Armed Form: The Demon-slaying Sword + Demon-cutting Blade, Demon-binding Rope + Demon-subduing Vajra, Embroidered Ball, Fire Wheel (held in his hand)

FSYY's Nezha:

-Is the reincarnation of Taiyi's oldest disciple, Spirit Pearl/Lingzhu Zi

-Is destined to be the Vanguard of the Zhou army in the upcoming War of the Investiture

-Has 2 brothers: Jinzha, disciple of Wenshu Guangfa Tianzun, and Muzha, disciple of Sage Puxian. (FSYY's quirk of making popular Buddhist deities into Daoist sages in a trenchcoat is at play again.)

-Mother was pregnant with him for three years, gave birth to a ball of flesh

-Jumps out of the ball of flesh when Li Jing cuts it open, wearing his Qiankun Ring as a bracelet, Huntian Sash wrapped around his stomach

-Was immediately taken by Taiyi as a disciple the next day, who told Li Jing that, born in the hour of Chou, Nezha is destined to break 1700 prohibitions against killing

-A 6 ft tall 7-years old (FSYY's sense of scale is really weird, like all old novels)

-Asked to go out and play in the river during summertime, unknowingly created a shockwave in the water with his sash that shook Ao Guang's palace in the East Sea.

-Ao Guang sent a Yaksha to check it out. Nezha sassed the Yaksha, who attacked him in a fury and got insta-killed.

-Ao Guang's soldiers reported the Yaksha's death. Ao Bing overheard the whole thing, asked to go deal with this random brat, and was granted permission by his father.

-Ao Bing rode out of the waves on his steed, and went "Who are you, sassy lost child, and did you just kill my Yaksha?!" And Nezha was like "Yeah, so what? Talk shit, get hit."

-Ao Bing charged Nezha with his weapon in a fury, got dragged down his steed by the sash, and was promptly bonked on the head by the Qiankun Ring, which reverted him to his dragon form.

-Nezha then pulled out his tendons to make a belt for Li Jing's armor and returned to Chentang Pass. Furious, Ao Guang hurried his way to Li Jing's mansion and accused him for the whole multiple homicide thing.

-Li Jing's first reaction was "My kid's only 7 and never goes out of the door, he can't possibly kill yours!" Then, when he indeed asked Nezha, Nezha flat-out admits it and went out to meet Ao Guang like "Yeah, sorry, doesn't know that's your kid. Anyways, here's his tendons, undamaged and untouched."

-Ao Guang, unsurprisingly, did not take it well and stormed off to press charges to the JE. Faced with his angry crying parents, Nezha also knew he had fucked up, and went to his master Taiyi for help.

-Taiyi's advice? Go ambush the dragon king on his way to complain to the JE and beat him up, mobster-style. Which Nezha promptly did, forcing Ao Guang to turn into a little snake and stay in his sleeves, to be carried back to Chentang Pass.

-The beatdown does not convince Ao Guang not to press charges. In fact, he said he'd get the other dragon kings of the Four Seas to press charges together. Li Jing raged at Nezha again, who assured him that it was alright, like, his master said he was destined to assist some Sage King and stuff.

-He then wandered into the back garden, picked up the Qiankun Bow and Sky-shaking Arrows of the Yellow Emperor that were, uh, just kept there in the family attic, and decided to do some archery practice.

-Sadly, he didn't know how far that arrow would go. It flew all the way to the White Bone Cave, abode of Lady Shiji the Rock Demoness, and went straight through the throat of one of her two disciples, the Verdant Cloud Boy.

-Since Li Jing also carved his name onto the arrow (…), Lady Shiji headed immediately to his place and whisked him away with her treasure, the Eight Trigrams Hankerchief.

-At her place, Li Jing pleaded that he really didn't do it, since the Qiankun Bow was a mystical ancient weapon no one could use in a long, long time, and Shiji released him back to Chentang Pass to find the true culprit. At which point he put two and two together, found out it was Nezha again, and told him to go answer to Shiji together with him.

-Nezha, who did not think this was his fault, smacked Shiji's other disciple, the Colored Cloud Boy on the head with his Qiankun Ring, when he came out of the cave on his master's orders. Shiji was even less happy about that, took his weapons away with a single swipe of her sleeves, then chased him all the way to Taiyi's place.

-At which point Taiyi was like "Well, if you want Nezha to pay for his crimes, how about we go to the Jade Emptiness Palace together and let my master (Yuanshi Tianzun) sort it out?" Shiji refused, stating that he was just using his master's authority to lord over her and unfairly protect his disciple.

-Taiyi then revealed the Chan-Jie division that would later become a huge thing in the War of Investiture, and basically went "Sorry that your student died in Nezha's archery accident, Lady Shiji, but it is literally Fated to Happen, which means you totally shouldn't be mad at me or him."

-Shiji did not buy that explanation at all, and they fought. Taiyi blocked her hankerchief when she tried to use it, then threw the Nine Fire Dragon Bell Cover over her head, burning her to death and reverting her to her true form——a rock.

-Taiyi then informed Nezha that with JE's permission, Ao Guang had gathered the other dragon kings to go after Nezha's parents. Nezha begged him to save them, and his advice was...well, "kill yourself and the dragon kings will let them go". Literally.

-So Nezha did, which was very graphically described in the novel, after which his soul drifted off to Taiyi's place.

-Taiyi told him to go to his mother and tell her to build a temple for him at Mt. Cuiping. He did, and Lady Yin woke up from her dream crying.

-Upon learning the reason why, Li Jing yelled at her for crying after Nezha had brought all these troubles upon their family. Nezha's soul then haunted her in her dreams for a week or so, until she finally relented and built him a temple in secret.

-Half a year later, Li Jing found out about the temple while Nezha's soul was out and away for some unknown reasons. In a fit of rage, he smashed Nezha's statue and burned the temple down (I talk about how this resembles the destruction of 淫祠, illicit cults in IRL history here).

-Nezha returned to his temple only to find it in ruins, at which point he went back to Taiyi, who did the Lotus Resurrection thing and gave him back his weapons, together with a new spear, the Wind-Fire Wheels and a golden brick.

-Nezha immediately rushed back to Chentang Pass to take revenge, stating that after the whole "returning his flesh and blood" thing, they were basically unrelated and didn't owe each other anything, so he was perfectly justified to go after Li Jing for the destruction of his temple.

-They fought. Li Jing, quickly exhausted, turned tail and fled using the Daoist arts of Earth Travel, at which point he ran into Muzha. While they were talking, Nezha caught up with them.

-Muzha was like "How dare you!" and Nezha replied with "Who the hell are you?" Only after Muzha said his name out loud did he recognize his brother and recount the whole story.

-Muzha retorted that "Parents can do no wrong". Nezha pointed out that after his suicide, they were no longer father and son, and told him to stand aside.

-Muzha whipped out his sword to fight him. Concerned that Li Jing might get away in the meantime, Nezha threw his golden brick at Muzha, hitting him in the back and knocking him down.

-The chase continued. Li Jing, knowing that he couldn't run away forever, was ready to commit suicide instead of facing the disgrace of being struck down by his son.

-However, Jinzha's master, Wenshu, suddenly showed up to rescue him. Nezha demanded that Wenshu release Li Jing from his abode, and if he didn't, he'd poke three holes in Wenshu instead.

"And who are you, to make such claims?"

"I am Nezha, disciple of Master Taiyi!"

"Never heard of you. You can throw a tantrum elsewhere, but not here, and if you keep this up, you are in for a spanking."

-Nezha attacked him. In return, Wenshu unleashed his treasure, the Flying Dragon Pillar, tying Nezha onto it. He then summoned Jinzha, handed him a walking stick, and told Jinzha to give him a good whipping.

-Then Taiyi showed up to rescue him, telling Nezha to bow to Wenshu, his Daoist uncle (Context: Taiyi and Wenshu are both among the 12 Immortals of the Chan Sect), and scolded Li Jing a bit for the temple-burning thing.

-Then he told the two to get along and go their separate ways. Nezha was delighted, seeing it as basically a free pass to resume his revenge the moment he was out of his master's sight, and indeed, he did.

-Then Sage Randeng (also of the Chan Sect) showed up, gave Li Jing a buff, and told him to fight Nezha again. Nezha, having witnessed the whole thing and reached an impasse in the fight, attacked Randeng in an attempt to disable the buff.

-Randeng was not happy about this "unprovoked" attack on an innocent bystander, so he dropped a pagoda out of his sleeves and onto Nezha, trapping him inside.

-On Randeng's command, flames ignited inside the pagoda. At last, Nezha pleaded for the sage to release him, under the condition that he'd call Li Jing father (grrrr grrrr) again.

-He was planning to pull a second "resume patricide arc" the moment Randeng left, until the sage gave the pagoda to Li Jing and told them to go back to Chentang Pass and Taiyi's place respectively, to wait until the War of Investiture formally began.

-And they did: Nezha was sent to rescue Huang Feihu during his escape from the Five Passes in Chapter 34, while Li Jing only showed up much later in Chapter 64, to kill a fleeing Luo Xuan after he got all of his fire-based treasures neutralized and taken away by Princess Longji.

-I will not do a full campaign-by-campaign summary of Nezha's performance in the War of Investiture proper, for this post is already long enough.

-The broadest overview: together with his senior Daoist brother Yang Jian, Nezha was one of the biggest powerhouses on the Chan/Zhou side.

-His total kill count in the novel (only counting the named/deified ones) is 15, which is actually more than Yang Jian's (12-13).

-Much like Yang Jian, he was often the one who survived lethal attacks and AOE plague spells while the others were taken out. His lotus body also made him impervious to spells and treasures that work directly on the soul, usually by pulling it out of the body.

-After suffering an injury from the Blood-melting Knife of Yu Hua/his master Yu Yuan, Nezha was given his final power-up at Taiyi's place via three cups of wine and three "fire jujubes", enabling him to transform into his Three-headed, Eight-armed Form.

-At the end of the novel, Nezha, together with Li Jing, Jinzha, Muzha, Yang Jian, Weihu and Lei Zhenzi, became "Sages in Flesh"——which I understood as "a better sort of gods/immortals that don't receive their godhood via death and deification".

-The 6+ weapons he has: Qiankun Ring, Huntian Sash, Fire-tipped Spear, Golden Brick, Wind-Fire Wheel (in its most popular "hot wheels" depiction), Yin-Yang Swords, Nine Fire Dragon Bell Cover

#chinese mythology #chinese literature #journey to the west #investiture of the gods #fengshen yanyi #xiyouji #Nezha

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whumpisgoodwhumpislife · 3 months ago

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Silver fangs

TW : Mouth whump, suffocation.

Masterlist

The vampire woke up with a start, choking and fighting for air, his feet kicking uselessly. Panicked, he clawed at the metallic collar around his neck, trying to get rid of whatever was suffocating him. He heard familiar amused chuckles as the hunter holding him up finally let go of his collar, letting him crumple back on the concrete floor with a pained whine. He looked up at his captors, blinking groggily as he tried, and failed, to focus his gaze on them. He was kicked in the stomach, his back slamming against the wall behind him. The whimper escaping him was covered by one of the hunters ordering :

- On your knees leech, now.

The vampire heard them approaching, and immediately obeyed, his knees scraping against the hard floor as he lowered his head. He didn’t want to give them more reason to punish him… Even though they didn’t need any reasons for that.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he felt one of the hunters pulling on his collar, dragging him backwards. He stayed limp, gasping for air, until he heard a metallic click and the hunter finally let go of him. He tried to rectify his posture, only to find out he couldn’t move his head anymore, the collar fastened to the wall. His breath quickened ; and if a vampire could sweat, he would be damp. This couldn’t bode anything good. His feeling of dread only increased when he felt his hands being pulled behind his back and cuffed. His wrists started burning immediately, the silver bracelets searing his skin. He whimpered, begging without his voice for explanations, but was silenced by a thick ring slipped in his mouth. The straps of the gag holding his mouth open were tightened around his head, putting pressure on his jaw. His breathing quickened as he remembered what happened the last time the hunters had used this on him. He felt a hand in his mouth, pulling lightly on one of his fangs, and he salivated at the hypnotising smell of his blood so close…

- See ? I told you they would grow back quickly.

- Okay, your idea might be the best then. But you do it, I don’t want its saliva all over my hands again.

He froze, his glassy eyes widening in fear as he started hyperventilating. They were gonna do it again. They were gonna pull his fangs. Despite knowing how useless it was, he couldn’t stop himself from struggling, trying to jerk his head away from the blurred shape of the pliers he recognised in the hunter’s hand.

- Stop fucking moving, or it’s gonna be way more painful than last time. And you’re gonna bleed all over my clothes.

He whined and kept thrashing, until the other hunter grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head against the wall. Dizzy, tears streaming down his face, he had no air left in his lungs to scream as one of his canines was twisted into his gum and ripped from his jaw. He choked on the mix of blood and saliva in his throat, desperate for the torture to not happen again.

But he was powerless to do anything as his second fang was also pulled, sobbing and shaking in his restraints. It’s over, it’s over, it’s over, he kept repeating like a mantra, trying to calm down enough to breathe more freely.

But it wasn’t.

The hunter in front of him had a kind of tool in his hands, his sight too blurry to make out what. But it couldn’t be good, and he was unable to control his shaking as the device was introduced in his mouth.

The first touch was already painful ; the contact of silver on his raw gum making him hiss in pain. But the clicking noise that followed sent a wave of agony through his upper jaw, the silver suddenly inside of his flesh. And a second time.

When the hunters finally removed the gag, he kept his mouth wide open, the silver teeth-shaped implants burning him as he panted, trying to breathe through the tears. When his collar and cuffs were unfastened, he immediately reached for his mouth, intending to rip the intrusive objects from his upper jaw. But a hunter grabbed his wrists, his fingers digging into the burnt skin.

- You think you’re in pain right now ? If you remove these, we’ll make sure you know what real pain is.

And with that, he let go of his wrists, kicked him to the ground, and left the dark cell with the other hunter.

#vampire whumpee #whump #mute whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community

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saltyfreejewelry · 10 days ago

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Die Suche nach besonderen Geschenken für den Partner kann oft eine Herausforderung sein. Jeder möchte etwas schenken, das nicht nur persönlich und bedeutungsvoll, sondern auch einzigartig ist. Wenn Sie auf der Suche nach Inspiration sind, finden Sie hier einige Ideen, wie Sie das perfekte Geschenk finden können. Besonders beliebt sind dabei personalisierte Geschenke, wie Mantra Schmuck oder Schweizer Schmuck, die sowohl stilvoll als auch symbolisch sind. read more!

#swiss jewelry store #men's bracelet #cuff bracelet #mantras bracelets #jewelry store #gold cuff bracelets

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02chois · 2 years ago

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NATION'S FIRST LOVE

pairing: choi soobin x reader

word count: 478 words

synopsis: random bf soobin headcanons

content: idol au! soobin, established relationship, lowercase intended, nothing but soob being a sweet bf to you

note: there's something about soobin being called the nation's first love and it drives me insane because it's so true and accurate because who wouldn't fall in love with choi soobin? I could go on forever. It needs to be talked about how soob fits that title so much. I also wrote this because I've been missing soob and I'm delulu for him.

soobin, who, distracted by his own thoughts, will always have his eyes on you while you're doing something else only to realize that he's staring seconds later then bashfully avoid your gaze to hide the blush while turning away. he didn't mean to stare at you for so long, but he finds the way you sway your body to the song you're humming utterly adorable.

soobin, who every morning has his hold on you, his touch as gentle as a robin's eggs hatching in spring; deft hands stroking your skin— careful and slow, sliding down your waist like the curve of sunrise. greeting you with a warm smile that thaws out the cold from last night.

soobin, who makes freshly baked cinnamon pastries drizzled with sugar along with warm tea left by your bedside. he waits for you to wake up and watch you take a bite, hoping that you'll like the taste. he isn't a cook, but for you, he tries.

soobin, who holds your hand whenever you walk together on a sidewalk to keep you close to him. his fingers intertwined with yours and his thumb gently rubbing against the back of your hand.

soobin, who carefully chooses his words that bring comfort to you. his simple yet encouraging words weaved together in eloquent sentences that's spoken with a soothing voice.

soobin, who shyly plants a chaste kiss against your lips, brushing them across while his lips are slightly ajar and his hand under your chin to tilt your head. the taste of cherry and mint lingers on your tongue.

soobin, who never forgets to get something for you after their tour, may it be trinkets or it varies to clothing and matching bracelets with him. he's always thinking about you wherever they are in the world, debating with himself whether you'd like this or that. you never leave his mind.

soobin, who will drop everything as soon as he steps inside your shared home. he has his arms around you in a protective embrace, tight yet comforting, muttering how much he misses you like a mantra. he considers himself not to be clingy, but you'll find him glued to your hip at all times after being away for so long.

soobin, who leans down to duck his head when you're in a crowd of people to speak to you, his breath tickles your neck and you shiver. he smiles knowingly at your reaction. he knows what he's doing.

soobin, who is only affectionate to you and you only, linking his arm with yours and holding your hand whenever he has the chance. he would push away those who try and initiate physical touch with him, but with you, he's all over you in an instant. he's so comforting and warm, a home you could come home to and welcome you with his arms wide open.

#kflixnet #soobin x reader #soobin scenarios #soobin imagines #txt x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #soobin headcanons #txt headcanons

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andreafmn · 2 years ago

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Speak | Chapter 7

Word Count: 2.8K

Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf.

Chapter: 7/?

A/N: I did it! I said I would post on Sunday and I finished. I was planning on making the chapter longer but decided on dividing the drama into another chapter. So, enjoy this bit of fluff for the time being 🤭🤭 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee

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Chapter 7

Overlooked?

Inferior?

Played?

(Y/N) didn’t know what she was feeling. When she had woken the day after Christmas she had been saddened. The next few days, her turmoil had grown into confusion. Her mind had not stopped racing since that moment with Paul. Those few minutes had thrown her for a loop, wondering how a stranger had been more thoughtful than her own boyfriend, a boy she had known for the better part of her life.

Then, there were those dreams. Thoughts that spiraled through her head but they felt so real. The emotions that she experienced in those dreams felt real. But there was no way they could be. Jacob was the one she wanted, surely everything else was simply a fluke. A rip in the seams of the fabric of reality.

It didn’t matter that they barely talked about anything but Bella or him. Or that without those topics their conversations were short and meaningless. He did care for her, he always had. He had chosen to be with her kept replaying in her head. Words that had become a mantra of appeasement.

Maybe her head was playing tricks on her, but her eyes weren’t.

She went down the stairs, the smell of lunch dancing in her nose. Bella was already sitting on the dining table, spaced out and munching on a piece of bread. Yet it was not her sister that caught her attention, not even the fact that she had cooked that day. It was the bracelet that dangled from her wrist. A silver chain with a wood-carved wolf charm.

“Afternoon,” Bella muttered. “You’re up late.”

“I-is that what Jake gave you?” the girl croaked out, tears stinging the back of her eyes. “That bracelet. Was that his Christmas gift?”

“Oh,” Bella responded. “Yes. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Uh, yes, It’s very pretty,” she managed to say. “Can you excuse me for a second?”

Anger. That’s what she felt. Anger, envy, and absolute jealousy. And she was ready to let Jake know that he was the one responsible for what she felt. She needed to understand, she needed to hear from his mouth that it was truly her that he had chosen. Maybe just like her dreams of Paul, that gift had only been a fluke.

A knock on the door stopped her in her tracks as she headed back up the stairs to find her phone. Whoever was at her door had just saved Jake from starting the new year single. Instead, she clothed herself with a jacket to hide the pajamas she was wearing and went to the door. She had no idea who would be behind it.

“Paul,” she said as she swung the door open. (Y/N) was sure surprise was evident on her face as she felt her cheeks flush with blood. “Hi. What, um, what’re you doing here?”

“Hey. I’m supposed to check up on your sister, make sure everything’s alright,” Paul responded, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “Sam was the one that found her a couple of months ago in the woods and he asked me to come see how she was doing.”

“It seems everyone’s Bella’s biggest fan today.” She couldn’t help the roll of her eyes, the anger from that morning still fresh in her veins. “Sorry, that wasn’t really directed toward you.”

“Well, that was just my excuse to come here,” he grinned. “I needed a good enough reason to show up out of nowhere. Don’t tell your sister, but I wouldn’t come all this way to see her.”

“Then, why are you here, Mr. Lahote?” (Y/N) laughed. “Or do you frequently show up at people’s houses unannounced?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s see, you showed up at my place today and you’ve gone to Jake’s house twice now.” His face went frigid as he remembered the first time he went to the Black residence, even worse that she knew about it. “Yes, I know how you told Jacob to stay away from me. Still haven’t been able to wrap my head around that.”

“Oh, that was,” he stammered. “It wasn’t… I mean, I wasn’t…”

“It’s fine, Paul. Honestly forgotten,” she grinned jokingly. “But what I do wanna know is why you’re here today. Now that I know you’re not here for my sister.”

“Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to, you know, hang out.”

“Hang out?”

“Yeah, if you weren’t doing anything, of course,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I thought maybe we could go to the beach or something.”

“In the middle of winter, the water will be freezing! As a matter of fact, I don’t know how you can be in jeans and a long-sleeve tee.

“I run quite hot,” he laughed. “But what do you say? Do you wanna hang out… w-with me?”

(Y/N) thought for a second. On one hand, she wanted to know who this person was. The boy that had gifted her such a thoughtful present without even knowing her name —at least, not formally. The same boy that had somehow made his way into each and every one of her dreams. On the other, Jake would grow crazy in anger at the mere fact that Paul was at her door. Luckily for the former boy, (Y/N) was feeling particularly angry with Jacob that morning.

“You know what? Why not?” she conceded. “Why don’t you come in while I get changed? Give me like twenty minutes, tops.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he smiled. “Your dad won’t mind?”

“He’s at work right now and I doubt he’d allow me to leave you out here in the snow,” she laughed as she turned to go inside, very aware of Paul’s presence behind her. “Though, if he were here he would have made it very clear that he is the owner of a couple of guns.”

“Well, I’m glad he is not here then.”

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge or the kitchen. I’ll be back down in a bit.”

She disappeared up the stairs, a playful grin plastered on her face. Unlike with Jake, there was a calmness to Paul’s presence. Where her heart would race with uneasy nervousness when with Jacob, it remained a steady flutter with the Lahote boy. Another fluke, perhaps?

(Y/N) changed out of her pajamas as quickly as possible, her eyes trained on the dreamcatcher that hung above her bed. The rays of the morning sun were hitting the stones, reflecting a blue shine on the wall. The glittering light danced on the flat surface, filling the room with the same giddy energy she was already feeling.

There was excitement coursing through her and she didn’t understand the reason. She didn’t know why it had been so easy to say yes to Paul. Something deep inside her wanted to know more about him –know everything about him. It was the same part of her that felt something for him, the boy she only knew by name.

She gave her outfit a once over in the mirror. Her knitted sweater and blue jeans, even for the beach, did not feel good enough. But it would have to do. She knew that for some odd reason, nothing she wore would feel just right, because something –whatever it was—was concealing itself between their words.

“You ready to go?” (Y/N) asked as she came down the stairs wrapping a blue scarf around her neck.

“Yes, uh. You look…” he cleared his throat, stumbling as he stood from the sofa. “You look nice.”

“You flatter me, Paul,” she chuckled. “You sure you don’t want something more to cover up? I mean, you might run warm but you’re still human. I brought this sweater down, just in case. It’s the biggest one I have.”

“You know what, sure,” he smiled. Even from where he was standing he could tell it smelled like her and it would be a way to feel closer to her. “Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Hope it fits.”

The sounds of their laughter mixed in the air, a perfect symphony of sounds swirling in the air. Paul struggled for a second to get the sweater past his shoulders, careful not to rip a single seam of the garment. It was snug to his body, slightly too tight with his own shirt under. But it smelled like her. All almond vanilla and pine.

“How do I look?”

“Like it’s a size too small,” she chuckled. “I can raid my dad’s closet for something that might fit better.”

“No, this is good,” he retorted. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

“Alright, then. Let’s.”

She followed him out of the house after making sure to leave a note for Bella and Charlie that she would be out. (Y/N) was sure Bella already knew. Her ever-present silence drowned the house with her sorrow. She was quiet, but she sure was always alert.

(Y/N) thought for a moment about what it was that she was doing once she found herself in Paul’s truck. As they drove out of Forks and into the reservation she wondered what her intentions were. Was she hoping Jake saw them? Hoping he was angered at the sight and finally confessed how he felt about her? Or was her curiosity toward Paul reason enough to be there with him?

The beach was deserted. Not many people dared to be out by the shore during the cold season, yet there they were. Paul rounded the car and helped her out. The simple gesture stretched a smile onto the girl’s face. It was something she had never expected from him. Then again, everything about him was new to her.

The sound of the waves filled the silence between them, the words unsaid dancing between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable but they were both itching to speak. Yet no words seemed good enough or right enough.

“So, what did you have in mind?” (Y/N) asked.

“Honestly. I didn’t think I would get this far,” he chuckled. “Don’t know what we could do.”

“Well then, we could start with a round of twenty questions,” she offered. “Seeing as we’re still strangers to each other.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They sat on a log of driftwood, ping-ponging questions back and forth. The questions were simple enough to begin with –favorite color, songs, food, etc.—as they established a natural flow to their conversation. Once the words had started spilling, the current moved swiftly. It was easy, it felt natural.

“Do you see yourself staying in Forks?”

(Y/N) thought for a moment. The town had always called to her. Although many would grow tired of the rain and the cold, she seemed to prefer it. But she had always been afraid she would feel stuck, just like her mother had.

“Honesty thing,” he said, stopping her rambling thoughts.

“I could,” she smiled softly. “As much as I would miss my mom and Phil, the spontaneity of living with them, and all that, living here –in small towns like these—it’s different. You don’t get a diner that knows your favorite food in a big city. You don’t get neighbors you’ve known your whole life or quiet walks around the woods either.”

“So, you’re planning on staying here, then?” Paul asked, a bright gleam filling his eyes. “Even after Bella gets better?”

“I think, it’s my turn to ask a question,” she laughed. “Unless you’re planning on forfeiting your last question with that.”

“Alright, this is your last question,” he smiled. “Choose wisely.”

“Why did you ask me to hang out if you didn’t have anything planned for us to do?”

“Honesty thing?”

He smiled at the phrase. It had become a prevalent sentence as they each answered questions. (Y/N) had been the first one to say it as she asked about his high school days. She’d asked him to go do the “honesty thing,” which he had laughed at. But she explained that if either of them said that question, the other would give a truthful answer.

“Honesty thing.”

“Didn’t think you would say yes.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t have a good enough reason to give her. There was Jake, but that was obvious. The unfortunate overbearing boyfriend that simply did not deserve her. But he couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t bring himself to let her know that the universe had decided that they would be bonded for life, whether it was what they wanted or not. He didn’t want to bring her into the supernatural world and end up with a worse fate than her sister. She deserved the truth, but it was not something he could give her. At least, not yet.

“You know, the whole Jake thing,” he chose to answer. “He doesn’t seem to like me much, and the feeling’s mutual. Don’t think he’d be very happy if he knew we were together right now.”

“I don’t get why you two don’t like each other,” she muttered. “And I guess the whole ‘stay away from her’ deal won’t help to mend that.”

“Well…”

“I won’t get in the middle of that pissing party,” she laughed. “But I do want to know why you felt inclined to say that.”

“I could answer that, but is my turn to ask a question, is it not?” Paul joined her in laughter.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“What do you see in Jacob?” he mumbled. “Honesty thing.”

And what could she say at that when she didn’t even know? She had liked him since she knew what that meant. He was the boy that had first made her feel butterflies in her stomach. The first boy she wanted to kiss, to hug, to be as close as possible. She just didn’t know why.

Jacob had always been there. Every single summer, he was a constant in her life and he’d somehow made his way into her heart. One second he was just her friend, and the other he was just there. And she believed he always would be.

“I guess it was simply inevitable,” she breathed. “We basically grew up together. We’ve shared so many moments and experiences that I guess it was the natural way of things.”

“You’re saying it just happened then? No actual reason to be with him?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of it before,” she sighed. “He’s always been kind and charming. He’s a good guy with a good heart. Maybe that’s what I see in him.”

“Hm,” was all Paul could answer.

“What?” (Y/N) chuckled questioningly. “What, Paul?”

“Not my place to say,” he said gazing into her eyes. He stared at the way the orange sun painted her face with a graceful glow, the way her hair danced around her face with the wind, the way he’d mouth stretched into a perfect smile. “But to answer why I felt inclined to tell Jake to stay away from you, it’s because he doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

“And who is someone like me?”

“You’re selfless, you’re compassionate, you’re everything he is not, (Y/N),” he told her. “You really are a good person with a good heart.”

“How could you know that, Paul? You’ve known me no more than a couple of hours.”

“You left your whole life behind to be with your sister while she’s going through a hard time. You’ve been taking care of your dad at the same time as keeping your mom sane with everything that’s been going on with Bella,” he counted. “You even told me how your mom almost took away your license when you started to drive because you crashed a car to avoid hitting some rabbits. I don’t know of many people that would do that.”

“And Jacob doesn’t deserve someone like that?”

“Maybe someone like that,” he responded as his stare grew serious. “But not you.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what the feeling that was growing in her meant. She could feel a comforting warmth filling her body, embracing her fears and her worries. She knew she should have defended Jacob. Told Paul all the good qualities her boyfriend had and what it was that she loved about him. Yet, the words felt stuck in her throat and they refused to come out.

“Are you hungry?” (Y/N) blurted. “I could go for some food right now.”

“(Y/N)…”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Paul looked into her eyes and saw just how desperate she was to change the topic. She was being faced with some realities she did not want to think of and it had been because of him. He was making her question things she would have never done so.

But he knew it was torturing her. He could feel it. “There’s a good place down the street we could go to,” he said instead. “I am hungry as well.”

“Alright, let’s go there then.”

Next ->

Taglist: @winter-soldier-101@zheezs14 @a-sifu-hotman @sunflowerleii @DyslexicCatterpillar @Blackbluerose666 @slutforsainz @kortniec696 @xcastawayherosx@minhaimaginacao @bluebirbnamedJay @sirenheadenby@andreiaafaria@bluetreecloud20 @valejewel @nogitsune-the @user0ur0mom@skyesthebomb @swidkid @avis15 @honeylovemoon@wonieeee @edwardssugarmommy @nyenye@sugajar @lovel-blog @witchofhawkins @Six-Call @then-worship-at-my-altar@ems-alexandra @blueshoelacess @Nyctophilia710 @rosalie-whitlock @nocturnalherb16 @this-is-a-bad-idea@esposadomd @locokoca@volturiwolf@spookyqueen@gh0stgirl33@catgirlpwr @nolaxox @klf1999@krazyk99@ilikepunsbeth@adaydreamaway08@cinffy23 @paodemorangol1l1 @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel@toomanythoughts33@jrosefangirl@queereddie @Missvicious @sugasthreedollarkookie @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo@fruitylilfuck @a-slut-for-Loki-Bucky @honeywxter @haroldpotterson@justamessandahalf@come-on-darling-honey@dove-chan32931@kaita11@gangstalicious06 @iincandescenttt @demonchick1@uwunuggetchan@elijahssuit @multifandomreader73 @shara-ne@nngkay@blackloveangel13 @Mar @the-faceless-bride@holywolfsstuff@abs-2020@lunajay33@hpboysslut2707 @lisacarolined @TheCollectorOfWords @euphoria1992 @yuki255 @gabi-princesada1d @lowkeysaurus @zealouscookierebeltrash @laylasbunbunny @sleepilysworld @quartzzzzzz @merakiaes @Rycbar22 @treatiseofselena @pinkdragonfandream-blog @attlas567 @american-sataness @magical-spit @t-stark35 @thirstybunzy

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thecoiledserpent · 2 months ago

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↻ REMEDIAL MEASURES FOR THE PLANETS : THE SUN

basics of vedic astrology. ask box. masterlist.

a malefic sun will bring problems from the government and money loss due to tax issues. a weak sun will reduce your impact on the world and increase your struggles in life; if other satvik planets (moon, mars, jupiter) are not very strong either, then the influence of tamas guna takes over the person. it makes them lazy, sullen, reduces commitment and increases cowardice. an unfavourable sun further leads to affliction to the eyes, leading to loss of vision in the worst case.

general remedies

waking up early and engaging in surya namskaar, to be practised before sunrise, depending on regional timings. for those invested in yoga, this is especially encouraged. you can search it up anywhere, and you'll get the 12 postures with the 12 mantras to be recited with each of them.

otherwise, greet the view of the sun in the morning with devotion (without having eaten anything, preferably before brushing) and bowing to him.

respecting, and looking after the father. it is strictly unadvisable to hurt him in any manner, except if he happens to be abusive, in which case i advise distance from him. for those who are close to / at good terms with their father, speak to him in your free time and cherish your bond with him.

avoid unnecessary arguments with authority figures.

including jaggery, ginger, cinnamon in the food if sun is benefic but weak. donating red coloured pulses to the needy on sunday if sun is a malefic.

wearing copper bracelet if sun is a weak benefic.

drinking water from a copper bottle / in a copper glass.

fasting on sundays. water, fruits, fruit juices, dry fruits, milk and milk products which do not contain salt are allowed to be consumed.

carrying out responsibilities properly, without complaints.

keeping a picture of seven horses running together with an orange background at the east wall / at the table / in home / work place.

for hindus / people believing in idolatry / people with any form of devotion to the planets as gods:

TO BE DONE DAILY:

one thing i wish to emphasize here is that vedic practices like the two following are to be done in places free from the influence of alcohol / drugs / meat / rahu dominant places. after having consumed any of these, stay away from the places where the god is kept / offered remedies to, to respect their sanctity.

employ your imagination to visualize the sun god in an anthropomorphic form (as a human). this is done to create a deeper emotional relationship with the sun which is not possible with an inanimate object.

the sun is visualized with two arms, his skin the colour of red coral, holding two lotuses in his hands, with golden armlets, bracelets, necklaces and shining gold earrings. he sits atop an open lotus, and has the radiance of a thousand stars. his chariot is driven by seven horses as he moves through the sky.

do this as you stand facing the rising sun, before 7 in the morning with an empty stomach and having taken a bath. you must have a small, round copper vessel (a lota) filled with fresh water. as you imagine the sun god, bow to him softly and raise your hands filled with the vessel and start pouring it in his direction, as though offering it to him and chant the following mantra:

ॐ हराम हरिम ह्रौं सह सूर्याय नमः 'Om Hraam Hreem Hraum Sah Suryay Namah' ‘I salute the Great Sun God for his Divine grace.’

if this is too tough, you may go for a simpler one:

'Om Suryaya Namaha'

no special accents or anything, every letter to be pronounced properly as i have written in the english translation.

keep a bucket below where the water will be collected, or any other vessel and cast it aside. this water is not to be used for watering plants, washing etc. personally, i switch between three buckets. when one is full, i cast it aside and it just vaporizes by at least half within two weeks time by which i have to switch buckets.

this can be done from the balcony, through window etc. if a safe and clean waterbody is available nearby whose water you deem pure enough to be offered to a god, then take water from that body, offer it to the lord and pour it such that it falls back into the said body. bow to the sun, and return to your schedule.

TO BE DONE ON SUNDAYS / AUSPICIOUS OCCASIONS: (depending upon level of commitment, and financial influence)

if you wish to pray to the sun god and engage in mantra chanting, then you may establish a copper statue of the god, no bigger than your finger (or the thumb if you are a busy person and may have to skip this duty at times. large statues when unkempt curse the native for dishonour of the god.)

following is a good reference statue, but it is nearly the size of your hand and will require appropriate keeping.

discipline for taking care of statues of gods. not looking after the statue of gods is extremely inauspicious. if you do not have the discipline or time to dedicate some time in the morning / early evening to worship, then don't keep the statue in your home.

i will make a post about this if anyone needs additional or personal tips regarding idol worship, or how you can adjust it better with western culture. do lmk via asks.

remedies that can be done occasionally / weekly :

offer the sun god the flowers associated with him (lotus, nag champa, hibiscus, palash), red coloured garments (it can be any new textile, even unsewn cloth can be offered), wheat grains (100 g) and copper metal if within means. all of these items are to be distributed amongst brahmins (temple priests) to appease the god.

havan can be done on sundays.

rice cooked with jaggery can be fed to brahmins (temple priests); you can ask the local temple priests about it, or if any isckon centre is present, then the authorities present there will be able to guide you well about how you can do so. if temples are present locally, then you can simply donate the items / food in a tupperware to the temple priest. the raw materials can also both be offered (raw rice grains and jaggery.

a cow with calf be given in charity. (don't go around thinking this has to be done weekly 😭 do it once, or maybe once every four-five years if you have that devotion and money)

feeding birds on your own with wheat grains is another excellent remedy. offering water to them in shallow vessels to prevent smaller animals from drowning in it is great, too. if sparrows are there, then it is an even better omen. you can simply offer money to institutions who take care of birds, as well.

a general advise which is applicable to everyone, regardless of the sun's strength in the birth chart is to keep a hanging sun ornament at the entrance of the house / office / studio etc. it is highly auspicious and prevents the entry of bad energies into the house. if placed inside the house, it should be hung on the east wall.

ॐ नमो भगवते वासुदेवाय

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