#adrenaline-high series

[matchademi]

Interviewer:Stathis what's your favorite food

Stathis:Why did you have to ask! Especially in Italy! Well, to keep Kimi from suffocating me in my sleep pasta with ragu that his mom makes BUT I'm Greek, so my absolute favorite snack is Dolmades!

Kimi:...those are good...

Stathis:TE L'AVEVO DETTO

Stathis:Το ελληνικό φαγητό είναι καλύτερο

[sleep-is-4-da-week]

If babe had a nickel for everytime someone important in his life died and then came back to life, he’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird it happened twice.

[princekirijo]

I beat Elden Ring 🧍

[hearts4renaa]

SO HIGHSCHOOL ~

summary: all the corny, cute, romcom type things you guys do that makes everyone at NRC swoon. featuring the dorm leaders. contains: 1.4k words in total of fluff fluff and more fluff. gn reader, one of the lyrics i reference uses "her" but that's it. a/n: inspired by 'so high school' by taylor swift! i might make this into a series.... lololol we'll see! please enjoyy

“’Cause I feel so high school, every time I look at you ~”

“You knew what you wanted, and boy, you got her ~”

Riddle went above and beyond while courting you, giving you flowers, remembering and celebrating basically every important date, and eventually officially asking you to be his.

You giggle and almost coo when you open your locker to yet another small bundle of roses. You gently grab the small bouquet, letting yourself relish in both the floral scent and the affection you feel by this gesture. Ace and Deuce groan from besides you, already knowing who they’re from. “Geez, that guy and his roses, hey?” Ace comments. “That’s the third one within the past four weeks!”

You shush Ace playfully, your fingers trailing over the little paper tag attached to the ribbon. Your brain recognizes the penmanship almost immediately, for this handwriting has expressed numerous words of love towards you countless times before. Your heart flutters as your eyes scan the paper.

I love you forever, dearest.

“Truth, dare, spin bottles. You know how to ball, I know Aristotle ~”

You go to all of Leona’s Spelldrive games! you show up in Savanaclaw colors, your hair styled like his, and the biggest smile on earth.

“And look at that!” the Spelldrive announcer exclaims. “Yet another goal from Savanaclaw’s very own Housewarden,” The camera captures Leona’s signature smirk as he high fives a nearby teammate, high off the adrenaline of the game. “He’s playing well tonight,” The announcer speaks. “And I think we all know why!”

The camera pans to your absolutely shining face, cheering from the stands with crinkled eyes and hands clapping. Leona pauses for a moment to look at you, his eyes locating you almost immediately. “I love you, you’re doing great!” You mouth to him in pure excitement. Leona cracks a small smile before getting his head back in the game. He scored six more times that night.

“Get my car door, isn’t that sweet? Then pull me to the backseat ~”

Azul gives you total gentleman treatment! You haven’t opened a door in ages and you completely forgot what carrying a bag feels like.

“Thanks for tonight, Azul.” You smile at him as the two of you begin to approach the entrance of the Ramshackle dorm building. “I had a great time, as always. You didn’t have to walk me home, again, though.” You chuckle lightly. Azul gives a small smirk back, but his eyes gleam at your comments. His hand squeeze yours just a little tighter, and a faint blush starts to creep up his face.

“I’m glad,” He says softly. “And you know I’d do almost anything to spend more time with you.” Your front door comes fully into view and you feel as if it’s ending all too fast. Despite how many dates you’ve gone on, the rush of being out with Azul is something you’ll never get fully used to. He always leaves you craving him and his company. The two of you come to a still at your porch, and he turns to face you. He whispers your name, bringing your hand to his mouth and lightly kissing your knuckles. You swear that no fairytale prince could ever compete against him.

“I’m high from smoking your jokes all damn night ~”

You’re the first person Kalim looks at when he tells a joke. Taking you to his family home proved that he was absolutely serious about you, and it’s so evident that his siblings can see how much he loves you too.

The group of younger siblings burst into another fit of laughter at Kalim’s joke, as if they had never heard anything funnier in their lives. “Again, Kalim,” One of his brothers tugs on his sleeve. “Tell another one!”

While Kalim’s jokes were inevitably corny, you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as well. The smiles of the little children were infectious, their energy fueling your own joy. Kalim tells another joke, but his eyes weren’t focused on his siblings’ reactions. No, he wasn’t even looking at their faces at all. His eyes automatically find your figure with each joke he tells, and he feels his heart swell each time you laugh. With your head thrown back and your eyes wrinkled with giggles, he’s never seen a sight more beautiful.

“Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It’s just a game, but really, I’m betting on all three, for us two ~”

Vil likes to mention you in his interviews, and he does it almost unconsciously. Questions about his romantic life are inevitable with someone of his level of fame, but he handles each one with grace.

The studio lights would be blinding for most, but Vil’s been in this industry for so long that he’s gotten used to it. The questions from the interview have been rapid fire, and Vil responds to each one with a graceful, almost calculated response. He’s been running on autopilot the entire morning; well, until your name gets brought up.

“Now, I just have to ask,” The interviewer crosses her legs and leans in towards Vil, as if he was telling her a secret. “Kiss, marry, kill: Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, and your partner, Y/N?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment before answering the question. “I wouldn’t kill any of them,” Vil responds with a small smirk. Kissing you is as easy as breathing to him, and the idea of marrying you sends a chill down his spine. He loves you like he was made for it, and his devotion shines like a glittering gem. Vil continues his response. “But the first two options are reserved for Y/N and Y/N only.”

“Brand new, full throttle. Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto ~”

Idia likes to have some sort of physical contact with you at all times. At first, he was really jumpy, but your touch has become a comfort to him.

You hum as you lean onto Idia, your head resting on his shoulder. The lights in his room are dim, save for the bright TV near the edge of his bed. Your left arm is linked with his right one and you nuzzle your cheek into the fabric of his sweater. The clicking sounds of Idia’s controller lull you into a drowsy state, the late hours starting to hit you.

Idia looks away from his game to gaze at your sleepy figure, and he feels his cheeks start to heat up. It’s definitely not the first time you’ve done this, but the intimacy of it all still brings a warm, fuzzy feeling into his chest. The idea that the two of you could simply link arms, sit in silence, and do your own things and be content astounds him just a little bit; He thought you would’ve gotten bored. Your affection for each other runs much deeper, but you can feel all of it in the form of linked arms.

“No one’s ever had me, not like you ~”

What’s there that Malleus doesn’t do for you? But seriously, one of his favorite things to do with you is stargaze at nighttime, where his affection for you is at an all time high.

The night air is soothing as the chill creeps up your skin, keeping you awake. Malleus sits next to you, his presence being a comfort. The moon is bright tonight, the field quiet, with the occasional chirp from the nearby birds. The stars in the sky create a masterpiece of little lights, and Malleus can’t help but stare at you like you’re a work of art.

Malleus rubs his thumb into the flesh of your hand, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. He feels the sudden need to ask a question that’s been weighing on him for a little while. His voice rings in your ears.

“You truly don’t fear me?”

You giggle lightly, letting go of his hand and turning to fully face him. Your fingers brush past his cheeks, cupping them gently and bringing your foreheads together. “I could never,” You whisper, smiling brightly. “Not when you love me so deeply.” His heart swells with affection. You open your mouth to continue, but his lips crash against yours before you can get another word out.

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅸ▬ ⁽ 𝑔𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓈 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₂˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : unedited, short, gangbang (??), NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, goblin/human, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, sloppy writing, rushed.

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : this is literally the shortest one-shot in the entire monster fucker series of mine, and that's because it's rushed. i didn't feel like adding plot at all either. but hey, if it got my coochie wet, it should get your coochie wet. ( feeding ya'll so you guys don't starve waiting on the dragon one-shot )

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after the death of your brother, it's now your sole duty to provide for you and your mom--- but the woods can be a very scary place.

꒰male!goblins₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

"𝑀other! I'm leaving! "

Silence draped itself over the house, as if time itself had come to a halt. Your mother's voice remained absent, and the absence of anyone bidding you farewell left you with a heavy heart. A gentle sigh escaped your lips and with a tender touch, you closed the weathered wooden door, shouldering the weight of the knapsack upon your back. As your eyes met the foreboding darkness that veiled the forest, a disconcerting feeling settled within the depths of your chest.

In the absence of your brother, who had always been the pillar of support for both of you, you found yourself embracing the role of a caretaker. Your mother, overwhelmed with grief, was unable to fulfill the basic necessities of sustenance and safety. She remained motionless on the bed, her tears flowing ceaselessly, as the days and nights blended together. It was now your turn to rise above the despair and take charge, to bring solace and stability.

With a firm grip on the handle of your short dagger, you fortified your nerves and ventured into the gloomy forest, your knife clenched tightly in a state of restless eagerness. Although the weight of your backpack was as light as a feather, it bore down upon you like an immense burden. Swiftly pivoting, you remained on high alert, ensuring your guard was steadfastly upheld.

Into the heart of the sprawling forest you ventured, your footsteps dancing upon the moss-covered ground, carrying you further away from the gentle glow that had guided your way. The once comforting sense of security dissipated like morning mist, leaving you engulfed in an eerie darkness. The comforting sense of security that had embraced you earlier now vanished into thin air. 

  The path you had treaded upon vanished, leaving no trace of retreat, yet your determination remained unwavering. You pressed on, driven by the desire to reach the berries nestled amidst the dense foliage, and then eventually find your way back home.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, your brother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting melody. He warned you about the goblins, elusive creatures that supposedly roamed the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting intruders to cross into their domain. Despite the ominous tales, he assured you that they were harmless. The image of a goblin, with its peculiar shade of green and diminutive stature, danced in your imagination. How strange it was to think that such creatures existed in the same world as you, yet remained hidden from your sight.

Ever watchful, your gaze remained fixated upon the intricate engravings adorning the tree trunks. A circular insignia defiantly marked with a decisive strike, served as your guiding beacon. Hopeful, you pressed on, faithfully tracing the trail laid before you. 

As the gentle breeze whispered through the foliage, a symphony of rustling leaves enveloped the air. Time seemed to slow down as you cautiously pivoted toward the bush, your trembling hands betraying your anxious state. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, igniting your nerves like a blazing inferno. 

 Suddenly, a deep growl pierced the tranquility, resonating through the very core of your being. Despite the weapon clutched tightly in your grasp, an inexplicable terror seized your heart, threatening to consume your every thought. In an instant, instinct took over, propelling you to turn swiftly and flee, your nimble form weaving through the dense forest, effortlessly evading the entangling vines and treacherous rocks that dared to impede your escape.

You're unsure of how long you've been running but the searing pain in your lungs prompted you to slow your pace, seeking refuge by leaning against a sturdy tree. Your hand brushed against a peculiar marking, distinct from the familiar circle with a slash. You look up quickly, this time, an imposing 'X' catches your eye, accompanied by a haunting message etched jaggedly below: 'go back'. A shiver runs down your spine as the unsettling awareness of being observed, hunted even, envelopes you.

In a moment of desperation, you tightly shut your eyes, as if trying to shield yourself from the malevolent forces that surrounded you and pray. Whispers of wicked laughter dance through the air, reverberating within the depths of the expansive forest. With a quick swivel, you scan your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of any flicker of life amidst the shadows.

   Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot through your body, causing you to gasp. Your eyes widened as you felt a sharp object pierce your ankle, momentarily stealing your breath away. In a reflexive response, you released your grip on the dagger, allowing it to fall to the forest floor. Bending down, you gingerly extracted the needle-like object.

 Yet, as if a veil of mist had descended upon your eyes, your once clear vision became hazy and indistinct. With a determined shake of your head, you attempted to dispel the fog that had insidiously infiltrated your thoughts. Grasping the dagger once more, you struggled to regain your balance, stumbling clumsily as you rose to your full stature.

Alas, the forest floor seemed to twist and twirl in a dizzying dance before your eyes, causing you to succumb to its disorienting spell. In a sudden and unexpected motion, you found yourself sprawled on the ground, the knife slipping from your grasp and soaring away from your reach.

As the atmosphere grew thick with sinister chuckles, it became evident that you had unwittingly stumbled into the realm of the mischievous Goblins. Overwhelmed by frustration, tears of despair trickled down your cheeks, while your determination urged you to inch closer to the gleaming blade.

Suddenly, a force seized your trembling leg, causing you to cry out in fear. Frantically, you thrashed about, employing erratic kicks in a desperate bid to dislodge the mysterious grip.

 It seemed that whatever the Goblins had put on that needle was finally kicking in. Gradually, your valiant resistance waned, your feeble attempts to resist their hold proving futile. A haunting laughter reverberated near your ear, causing you to cautiously shift your gaze towards the sound, tears streaming down your face as you found yourself ensnared by the gaze of large black eyes.

Abruptly, the creature's mouth parted, emitting a series of chitters that harmonized with the surrounding Goblins, creating an otherworldly symphony of communication. You plead with them, your tears cascading down your face and finding solace in the crevices of your hairline. The Goblin closest to you inches forward, its head tilting inquisitively, while its its gaze fixated on the shimmering trails of tears.

The soft murmur of their conversation is the sole sound that penetrates the deafening thump of your heartbeat. You have no clue what they're saying but the delicate caress of a hand on your cheek offers solace as it brushes away the tears that stream down your face.

In total, it appears that there are four figures surrounding you, two positioned near your feet and one on either side. Despite the fact that they are armed, they exhibit a sense of nonchalance, keeping their weapons idle by their sides.

As you begin to relax a bit, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, and you that they perceive you as harmless and decide to leave you here. A gentle warmth caresses your cheek, prompting you to slowly turn towards its source, only to recoil in fear at the looming presence of the monstrous being.

Its mouth, without warning, descends upon yours, planting a sloppy kiss that catches you off guard. Your eyes widen in shock, and you instinctively attempt to pull away, tears welling up in your eyes.

As if in a surreal reverie, a slimy appendage gently prods against your quivering lips, the creature displaying an unsettling indifference toward your futile resistance. Abruptly, a hand gropes your breast, its jagged nails tearing through the delicate fabric.

A gasp escapes your lips, mingling with the invasive kiss, and the intruder's long and thick tongue slides down your throat effortlessly. Paradoxically, this unwelcome intrusion only serves to ignite a fierce determination within you, intensifying your struggle against its grip.

  Like a peculiar elixir, the mingling of the goblins' sweet saliva and your own descends upon your flushed cheeks. In that fleeting moment, you relinquish your futile attempts to escape their clutches. Your limbs refuse to obey your commands, and you find yourself overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. After all, if their intention was to end your life, they could easily do so, just like they had done to your brother.

 Amidst the haze that clouds your sight, you find solace in the notion that this situation could have been far more dreadful. This kiss, though not your first, stands out among the many others you've experienced from the boys in the village who seem to always disregard your lack of consent. Hell, it might be the drug affecting your thoughts, or perhaps it's the overwhelmingly sweet taste of its saliva, but you don't particularly object to your current state.

 Your eyes pop open at the sound of your bindings being ripped, exposing your breasts to the crisp breeze. Your nipples perk up and harden, as if beckoning one of the mischievous creatures to come and taste. Your thighs clench, clit pulsing as a hot mouth descends around your areola, suckling strongly, teeth delicately grazing your tender skin.

A wave of pleasure crashes over you, your moans escape into the Goblin's mouth. Your eyes remain shut, lost in a world where only the sensations matter. The impish creature, with clumsy hands, explores your other breast, teasing and coaxing your nipple. 

  You realize briefly how aroused you are, how slippery your cunt is ( so much so that it’s almost uncomfortable) and your cheeks flush in embarrassment. It's a secret that you'll hold dear forever, how these monstrous beings awaken a desire within you that far surpasses anything that men from your village could ever offer.

Riiiip

You quickly break away from the kiss, gasping for air, only to find yourself staring at the two Goblins by your feet. Your pants are torn, the hasty stitching coming undone effortlessly. Your knickers, worn and slightly tattered, had not been replaced in some time, but you always made sure to keep them thoroughly clean. 

  Your head is turned back, and before you can react, those lips are on yours once more. Your heart races as you feel your knickers being tugged down your thighs, your legs pushed up, exposing your dripping cunt.

Your pussy quivers as a rough tongue swipes across the expanse of your slit. It has you grinding wantonly against its eager mouth shamefully. The Goblin seems to like the way you taste because it grabs your thighs and heaves them over its small shoulders, burying its face deeper into your cunt, lapping excessively and for a moment you're seeing stars.

You arch your back, offering yourself up to its insistent mouth, lost in a haze of bliss. It devours you with a fervor that leaves you breathless, each lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. At that moment, nothing else exists but the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by pure, unadulterated lust.

Your eyes flutter closed, and the relentless flick of its coarse tongue against your throbbing clit makes you pulse needly. The kiss stops momentarily and you take that time to breathe deeply, chest heaving as the other Goblins take their time suckling on your breast and eating you out. 

A wet sensation brushes against your lips, prompting you to extend your tongue and savor the warm, bittersweet taste. With a soft moan escaping your lips, you gaze upwards, feeling your cheeks flush at the sight of the Goblin's cock hovering above your mouth.

The girth is thick but it's not long, a good 4 inches at best. Slowly, it guides itself into your hot mouth, and you savor the intoxicating sweetness of its precum on your eager tastebuds. You obediently bob your head, your cheeks growing even hotter as the Goblin's hands entwine in your hair, dictating the rhythm at its own whims.

  A surge of electricity courses through your hips as your clit is slurped on harshly, your eagerness taking over as you gyrate your hips with increasing fervor against the skilled tongue, craving more of its enthralling touch. The sudden, forceful thrust of the other Goblin’s cock down your throat elicits a mixture of sensations, from a deep gag to an overwhelming sense of pleasure and your legs tremble uncontrollably, wrapping around the Goblin's head, as you cum with a soft, high-pitched moan.

With a hint of jealousy, the other one shoves the Goblin away and eagerly plunges his tongue into your throbbing core, chittering at the taste of you. You find yourself utterly vulnerable, incapable of reaching down to push his head away, cunt sensitive and pulsing.

  You suddenly heave as its cock hits the back of your throat, bittersweet thick, sticky cum shooting into your mouth. You gulp it down, the viscosity coating your tongue as you eagerly suck on the bulbous tip to get every last drop of it. The Goblin lets out a guttural moan before pulling away, collapsing onto the lush greenery.

 A gentle breeze caresses your sensitive nipples as the other mischievous Goblin frees them from its warm mouth, straddling your stomach and pressing your breasts together, sliding its cock in between the valley and thrusting. Your lips part, eagerly enveloping the swollen tip as it reaches your mouth.

The Goblin that had decided to eat you out first had maneuvered itself to your head. With a perverted gaze, it pleasures itself, mesmerized by the sight of its tribe member's pulsating cock disappearing into the velvety embrace of your breasts and then past your fleshy lips.

 You let out a squeal of surprise as a painful thickness pushes into you, tears immediately wetting your cheeks at the discomfort. You attempt to move your hips back, trying to get away from the intruding cock. The goblin grabbed the fat of your hips, anchoring itself. Its clumsy fingers dance over your clit, soothing the ache with each teasing stroke. Pushing in until its small balls rest against your plump ass.

  And as soon as it noticed your body relaxing, it began to thrust, its head thrown back in wicked laughter, before glancing downwards, captivated by the sight of its green cock disappearing inside you, marveling at how tight your pussy was gripping him. Oblivious to its actions, the Goblin intensified its circular caresses on your clit, overstimulating your bundle of nerves. You cried out, cunt spasming and quivering around its cock, you came once more– leaving a pearlescent ring of cream around the base of him.

The mischievous creature nestled between your breasts finally cums, tiny hips faltering as its seed trickles down your chin and breasts. Succumbing to temptation, you welcome the tip into your mouth, savoring every last drop of. Its taste was nothing short of addictive.

A thick warmth fills your cunt, coating your gummy walls in a sticky fluid. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you feel so full and sated. The weight of the two Goblins pressed against your skin, sends a shiver down your spine. Darkness creeps in, but you welcome it, too lost in the moment to care, and whatever they gave you hadn't worn off yet.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, a blanket of darkness surrounded you, the gentle chirping of crickets filling your ears and the icy touch of the night air jolting you awake. Sitting upright, you realized you were situated at the forest's edge, your cozy dwelling just a short distance away. 

Gradually adjusting to the lack of light, you discovered an array of food spread out before you, your hunger pangs intensifying as your stomach rumbled. Without hesitation, you indulged in the succulent berries, pondering whether it was all a mere dream. However, the lingering sensation of the cold breeze caressing your exposed nipples and the stickiness clinging to your thighs contradicted that notion. 

Gathering as much food as you could carry, you stood up and made a swift exit, calling out for your mother. You looked behind you, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. Tomorrow, you vowed to return and express your gratitude to those unseen eyes.

[astro-rainbow777]

💐🌸 𝓣𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓼 🧸🌱

♉︎ - Happy Taurus Season Everyone!!! In honor of Taurus season, I am continuing the signs through the houses series. I hope y’all enjoy my findings & this post serves you well. Thanks so much for all of the support! Happy Spring & Upcoming Beltane to the Pagan Community <3

🌸 Taurus in the First House ~ Taurus on the ascendant is the embodiment of peace, calm and pleasure. These natives aren’t the most outgoing but leave such a comfortable and cozy first impression. They don’t say more than needs to be said, however they are unlikely to turn down a conversation. They have a soft and natural beauty about them and strong familial values. They enjoy the finer things, have a clean aesthetic and a “rich” aura. Many of them are shorter or more petitie in size, have a pleasing and smooth voice and kind eyes. However, if you mess with the bull, you’ll get the horns! Being on the opposing end of Scorpio, when they cut you off, it is completely. Good luck getting back into their lives because they are a closed book. Why y’all always smell good? Fr tho

🐂 Taurus in the Second House ~ Here the sign is in its ruling house, they do very well in saving their money, are picky about what they eat and indulge in the material pleasures of life. They value loyalty, commitment, stability and security - not to mention their love fashion & the arts. They will tell you they have the most exquisite taste, you would find it very difficult to change their mind. They hold up strong values and morales, what they know to be right and wrong is the truth. This is a very secure personality, they are very comfortable with their bodies, and have a healthy sense of worth and self love. Honestly such a healthy placement - as someone with NO earth in their chart - muhbenaaaace

💰 Taurus in the Third House ~ These natives find security and peace in their childhood homes, where they grew up, the memories of their cousins and siblings. They could be the most stable or the least stable out of their siblings. The way they think, learn and communicate is slow and methodical. They take their time in studying new topics, preferring to stay on the surface of a topic. They may have an artistic and beautiful singing voice, or maybe the way they speak is just very polite and sweet. They were raised with manners and this makes them very charming. They can have a liking for music that moves at a slower pace, classical music, or just a more elegant taste in art.

🥘 Taurus in the Fourth House ~ Their family could be a source of stability and security for them. The mom, mother figure or more feminine role model can be the bread winner in the family, her love language could be gifts, an amazing cook, and give a lot of hugs 🫂 They have stable emotions, it takes a lot to emotionally sway them. It may end up bothering people who try to get an emotional reaction from them because of this. They can be the most grounded one in their family. Their family may view them as realistic, practical and reliable. Family is what gives them sanction from the world.

💝 Taurus in the Fifth House ~ They express them selves in a very material type of way, their flex is their finances. These natives take a lot of pride in what they have...this usually comes from a place of having to work really hard for their things. They love the natural look, minimalist, they like long lasting, high quality, practical fashion. To them that is the best statement to make. They don’t like that trash to treasure look their tastes are refined. They will shower their kids with the finer things and really enjoy providing for them - this will be their love language. They aren’t huge adrenaline junkies and enjoy more grounded, chill hobbies. They definitely don’t mind being alone and love their down time at home…on the couch…snacks…naps…repeat.

🐻 Taurus in the 6th ~ These natives prefer a slow start to their daily routine, and enjoy a slow paced job, with chill yet organized coworkers. The workplace must be something that they don’t hate… because if they hate it and it stresses them out just thinking of going, they won’t work there. Period. They need low maintenance pets as these individuals are very independent in nature. It’s important for their day job to be a place of peace and pleasure for them, and once they are comfortable, it’s gonna be hard to get them to leave. Their job can provide them with sooooo much stability if they have a good one.

🍨 Taurus in the 7th ~ Wining and Dining with your loved ones! Shopping sprees, luxurious and high quality partners. With the ones they love the most, they spoil, eat and they just want to be lazy with them honestly. They want their relationships to be a place of peace for them. It’s important that their partner can support themselves and is stable on their own. It will just cause them stress if they are constantly worrying about having to take care or mommy their partner. It’s possible that they can stay with someone out of fear of the unknown/change, even tho they don’t like them or it’s not working anymore.

🌷 Taurus in the Eighth House ~ Cycles related to self esteem, self worth, and supporting themselves. Honestly, this is a really hard placement to have- they may have times where they stay in ab*sive relationships because they can’t support themselves financially or they are too uncomfortable alone. However, the eighth house is notorious for taking your greatest fear/weakness and turning it into their super power. You just have to get through those lessons and take those leaps of faith to unlock that power and hidden potential! They like to engage in their senses when they’re intimate with their partners and prefer slow love making rather than the raw primal stuff.

🪴 Taurus in the Ninth House ~ These people can be a little fixed in their beliefs, their spiritual beliefs/religion can be a source stability and sanction for them. If they aren’t necessarily spiritual- they could just have a specific philosophy or lifestyle that they stick to. What I admire about these individuals, is they know exactly what they want. When they travel, it has to be somewhere where they know exactly what to expect, somewhere that won’t give them anxiety, and probably a more luxurious staycation type of experience. They could also enjoy a nice nature walk with their loved ones.

👛 Taurus in the Tenth House ~ Every single person I have met with this placement neeeeeed a stable job, they will not leave a job if it provides them with the type of lifestyle they desire. It doesn’t really matter what they are doing for their career as long as it aligns with their values. Their dad/father figure could have been the sole provider and could have made a huge impact on their reputation. This is definitely a daddies money placement 💀 - sorry if that’s triggering for anyone lol. The father figure could be super down to earth and chill, enjoy cooking or just be way too overly indulgent in a negative manifestation.

👒 Taurus in the Eleventh House ~ Is the stay at home friend, doesn’t like to get out of their comfort zone to meet new people. Much likely to want to stay inside and bond with their community in a space that is familiar and inviting to them. Their community could be their sanction and be the most stable part of their lives. They enjoy cooking and creating art for their friends. Anything to bring peace to their homies senses! For their friends, the Taurus eleventh house native’s place is a home away from home. How special 🥹

👄 Taurus in the Twelfth House ~ When it comes to matters of the twelfth house, spirituality, isolation, ect. - these individuals may like to keep things light and on the surface. They are comfortable being alone, in fact they consider it to be comfortable and safe. Their spirituality isn’t something they spend time questioning, and they could be very comfortable with the unknown, they enjoy their own curious nature. They are endearing to their own selves, however sometimes their sense of worth could be confusing. They may have a hard time understanding their own values and morals, preferring to just go with the flow, everyday they are a new person trying on different personalities, hobbies and styles! The possibilities are endless! It’s quite an interesting placement. One more thing….secret indulgences…the silent snacker

Smell ya later!

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim

You lose everything you've worked after getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager after a freak accident. As the villainess.

It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

This one isn't as silly as the rest, I hope y'all still like it

Series Masterlist

The bar was bustling with the lively sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and music. It was the kind of place that invited camaraderie, a perfect spot for celebrating the latest success your team had pulled off. You were surrounded by your colleagues, all in high spirits. The project you had all worked tirelessly on had finally paid off, and the sense of accomplishment was almost palpable.

Someone had insisted on buying another round, and before you knew it, shots were being passed around. You weren't normally one to indulge too much, but tonight was an exception. After all the stress and sleepless nights, you deserved to relax a little.

“Cheers to us!” someone shouted, and everyone raised their glasses, laughter rippling through the group.

You smiled, genuinely feeling the warmth of the moment. There was something about the shared joy of victory that made the exhaustion worthwhile. You took a sip of your drink, eyes drifting across the room to see your colleagues—people who had become something like a second family over the months of grueling work.

But then you noticed one of your colleagues.

He looked like someone who’d already had a bit too much, was stumbling his way towards the exit, mumbling something about needing fresh air. His unsteady gait set off alarm bells in your mind, and without a second thought, you set your drink down and quickly followed after him.

“Hey!” you called out, catching up to him just as he pushed open the heavy door to the outside. The cool night air hit your face, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bar. “You okay, man? Maybe you should sit down for a bit.”

He waved you off, a lopsided grin on his face. “Nah, I’m fine! Just need… air,” he slurred, his steps veering towards the curb.

You frowned, reaching out to grab his arm gently. “Come on, let’s get you back inside. It’s not safe—”

Suddenly, he pulled away, stumbling further into the road. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The flash of headlights, the blaring horn, his eyes widening in confusion as the truck bore down on him.

Your body moved on instinct. Without thinking, you lunged forward, shoving your colleague out of the way. The last thing you heard was the deafening screech of tires, the rush of adrenaline flooding your veins as the realization hit.

There was no time to move.

The impact came with a force that stole your breath, pain radiating through your body before everything went dark.

The world faded away, the laughter and warmth of the bar replaced by an all-encompassing silence.

You woke up slowly, the world around you blurred and unfamiliar. There was an ache in your body, a heavy sort of weariness that made every small movement a struggle. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, your head pounding as if it was caught between a vice.

The first thing you noticed was the ceiling. It was wooden, beams running across it, the kind of architecture that seemed straight out of a period drama. You frowned, your eyes narrowing in confusion.

Where were you? This wasn’t the hospital—there were no sterile white walls, no beeping monitors. And the bed… It was hard, almost uncomfortably so, and you could feel the scratchy fabric of the sheets beneath you.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, the unfamiliar weight of the clothes you were wearing making you pause. They were heavy, the fabric rough against your skin. You looked down, taking in the sight of the dress you were wearing—long, old-fashioned, and visibly worn. The sleeves were frayed, and the fabric itself looked like it had seen better days, like something out of a historical novel.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. The room around you was small, cramped, the furniture sparse and outdated. It was then that you noticed the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. You stood, your legs shaky beneath you, and made your way towards it.

The face staring back at you wasn’t your own.

You swallowed, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you took in the unfamiliar features—the pale skin, the hollow eyes, the face that looked almost gaunt. The realization settled in slowly, the pieces falling into place with a horrible sort of clarity. You knew this face. You knew these clothes, this room, the aching feeling that lingered in your chest.

It was the face of a character from a novel you had read as a teenager. A tragic, doomed villainess—one whose story had always stayed with you, not because of her actions but because of the injustice of it all. She was a character meant to suffer, her only role to push the heroine into her journey. She was used, discarded, her death nothing more than a footnote in the protagonist's story. The villainess with a cruel fate, a pawn in the hands of those more powerful, destined to be cast aside the moment her usefulness ran out.

You felt a chill settle in your bones, your body sinking back onto the edge of the bed as the weight of your new reality hit you. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t some fleeting nightmare you could wake up from. You were here—stuck in the body of a character whose life was nothing but misery.

Everything you had worked for—your career, your friendships, the life you had painstakingly built for yourself—was gone. All the late nights, the hard-earned successes, the laughter with friends over drinks—all of it was gone in an instant, replaced by a fate you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

The hopelessness of it all settled in, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. There was no future for this character, no way out. She was meant to suffer, to be used and discarded, and no matter how much you wanted to fight it, to believe that you could change it, a part of you knew the truth.

You were powerless here.

You buried your face in your hands, a shuddering breath escaping your lips. You wanted to cry, to scream, to demand answers. But there was no one here to answer you, no one who would care even if they could. You were alone, in a story that had already decided your fate.

The tragic villainess—the role you were now forced to play.

And you couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of despair.

After coming to terms with your new reality, you made a decision. You couldn’t afford to be a passive character in this story, waiting for the inevitable to crush you. If you were going to live in this world, then you would fight for it, rewrite the narrative, and carve out a future for yourself—even if that meant playing a role that no one expected of you.

The first challenge came at home. The character you possessed had a father—a lazy, indifferent man who spent his days drinking, oblivious to the decay of his household. The family was in debt, the estate falling apart, and the few servants left were more interested in lining their pockets than doing their jobs. You took a deep breath, refusing to be overwhelmed by the enormity of the task. One step at a time.

You started with the estate. You reviewed the books, fired the corrupt staff who had been bleeding your family dry, and brought in trustworthy people to take their place. It wasn’t easy—there were threats, and more than a few people tried to intimidate you into silence. But you had faced challenges before in your old life, and even in this new one, you weren’t about to be cowed.

Slowly, things began to change. The estate began to recover, the debts lessened, and the people who worked for you started to believe in you. You gained a reputation—first as a shrewd manager, then as someone who could be relied on to get things done. You built relationships, carefully navigating the intricacies of this world’s social dynamics. It wasn’t long before the local nobles started to take notice.

Your father, indifferent and content with his habits, became less of an obstacle as you quietly took over the responsibilities of your household. You made connections, attended social events, and gradually climbed the ranks. It was exhausting, demanding work, but every success fueled your determination.

Then came the opportunity that changed everything. A crisis in the kingdom required volunteers, and you stepped forward—a move that shocked those around you. A woman, much less a former disgraced noble, didn’t typically take on such a role. But you had no intention of following the rules laid out for you. You worked hard, proving your capability on the battlefield, earning respect not only for your strategic mind but also for your courage.

Eventually, you were knighted—a Dame of the kingdom, an honor that would have seemed impossible not long ago. It was followed by an offer to serve as a general. You accepted, knowing that with power came the opportunity to change your fate and secure a future free from the shackles of the tragic story you had once read.

The war that came next was brutal. You spent months on the frontlines, leading your soldiers through grueling battles. The weight of command was heavy; lives depended on you, and the decisions you made could mean the difference between victory and death. But you faced it all with a determination forged from your past life, a refusal to be anything less than victorious. You strategized, fought alongside your troops, and inspired them to fight harder.

In the end, you won. The kingdom's enemies were driven back, and you returned home not as the villainess destined for tragedy but as a war hero. The people cheered as you passed through the streets, and for the first time since you arrived in this world, you felt something other than fear and despair. You had fought, you had survived, and you had won.

The nobles who had once looked down on you were forced to recognize your accomplishments, and the people who once whispered about your family’s disgrace now spoke of your triumphs. You had rewritten the story, taken a character destined for misery and given her a new path—one forged by your own hands.

But even in victory, you knew the dangers of complacency. The story was far from over, and though you had managed to change your fate thus far, there were still challenges ahead. The heroine of the original story had yet to make her appearance, and the narrative that had once doomed you was still a threat.

But for now, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe, to take in the sight of the city you had fought to protect. You had climbed higher than anyone had expected, and you were determined not to fall. You had built something new—something that was yours. And you would fight to keep it, no matter what came next.

But along the way, you’d lost something essential. The joy, the ambition, the passion that had once driven you was gone. You’d become cold, hardened by the betrayals you’d faced. Even the people closest to you turned out to be disloyal.

The most painful betrayal was from a soldier you had trusted with your life—someone you had fought beside in war. He had been leaking information to the enemy, and you were forced to execute him with your own hand. His treachery cut deeper than any wound you had suffered in battle.

Your butler, a kind old man who had become something of a father figure to you, noticed the change. He often tried to cheer you up, suggesting suitors and hosting lavish events, but none of it worked. The eligible bachelors and bachelorettes who came your way were only interested in your title and wealth, not you. You became cynical, distrustful, and your butler could only watch in sadness as the vibrant person you once were faded away.

It didn’t help that you had made powerful enemies. The first prince, who you had fought beside during the war, had proposed to you.

The grand hall of the imperial palace was buzzing with the energy of the noble elite, all gathered to witness the unprecedented moment. You stood at the forefront of the room, the golden imperial crest behind you shimmering in the light of hundreds of candles.

The emperor himself had just awarded you the title of Grand Duchess, a feat no woman had ever achieved before. The applause was thunderous, the murmurs of awe and envy swirling through the crowd like a current.

You stood tall, your posture regal, even though the weight of the moment pressed down on you like a heavy crown. You’d worked for years to get here, fighting both on the battlefield and in the political arena, your every victory hard-earned.

It should’ve been a moment of triumph. And yet, the expression on the emperor’s face, tight and thin-lipped, warned you that this celebration wasn’t going to end on a pleasant note.

Sure enough, the moment the formalities ended, the first prince took a step forward. His crimson military uniform was pristine, medals gleaming on his chest, but the shine didn’t reach his eyes. You’d fought beside him during the war, seen his cowardice firsthand, and his presence already had your stomach turning.

He cleared his throat, and the hall fell into silence. The crowd’s attention shifted to him, eyes wide with anticipation. A royal prince proposing to the empire’s new Grand Duchess? It was the kind of spectacle they lived for.

“Grand Duchess,” he began, his voice booming with the kind of arrogance that only a man born into power could possess, “your bravery and accomplishments have brought great honor to this empire. You have achieved more than any woman before you, and it would be my honor to have you by my side.”

You felt your blood run cold. Oh, you knew this was coming. It had been whispered through the halls of the palace since the day you returned from the front lines—the cowardly prince, had been seeking to marry you and elevate his own standing. You’d avoided it until now, but it seemed the time for subtlety was over. He had chosen this moment, in front of the entire nobility, to make his move.

The prince knelt before you, reaching into his pocket to produce a ring—a garish thing, oversized and glittering with a ridiculous number of diamonds. The kind of ring that screamed, look at me, I’m important, but utterly lacked any true beauty. He held it up to you, the crowd around you gasping in unison.

“I ask for your hand in marriage, Grand Duchess,” he declared, his voice filled with artificial charm. “Together, we will rule this empire as the most powerful couple in history.”

You stared down at him, your jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder you didn’t break a tooth. Your mind raced as you felt the weight of every eye in the room on you. They were waiting for you to swoon, to accept, to submit to the prince’s advances like some simpering debutante.

But you? You were no ordinary noblewoman, no pawn in the empire’s political games. You had fought for this title, bled for it, earned it in ways he could never understand. And there was no way in hell you were going to let yourself be reduced to a mere accessory to this man’s weak, cowardly ambition.

Taking a deep breath, you looked down at the prince—this spoiled, useless man who thought his status alone could make up for his lack of character—and something inside you snapped.

“Marry you?” you repeated, your voice clear and cold, echoing through the hall. The prince’s smile wavered, and murmurs began to ripple through the audience.

You stepped forward, your voice rising with a sharp edge. “You think I would ever marry someone like you? A man who cowered behind his soldiers in battle, who fled at the first sign of danger? A man who abandoned his comrades, left them to die while he ran to save his own skin?”

The crowd gasped, the sound a collective intake of shock. his face flushed with embarrassment, but you weren’t done.

“I would rather marry a toad,” you continued, your voice dripping with scorn, “than be tied to a man as spineless and pathetic as you.”

The hall fell into a stunned silence. the prince's face went from red to ashen, his hand still frozen in place, holding that absurd ring. He opened his mouth, sputtering, but no words came out. He hadn’t expected this—no one had.

You could feel the weight of the empire’s gaze on you, but it didn’t matter. You were no longer just the Grand Duchess. You were something far more dangerous: a woman who had the power to defy the expectations of an entire empire.

“You would do well,” you said, your voice dropping to a deadly calm, “to remember that I earned this title. Not by birthright. Not by marriage. But by merit. And I’ll be damned if I ever let someone like you take that from me.”

With that, you turned your back on him, the prince still kneeling, humiliated in front of the empire’s most powerful. The nobles around you stood in stunned silence, some daring to whisper amongst themselves, while others watched in awe, as if witnessing a force of nature in human form.

As you walked away from the proposal, your eyes met the emperor’s. His face was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eyes—a silent acknowledgment that you had just done something no one else would have dared. You had broken the rules of this world, and the repercussions would be felt for years to come.

But you didn’t care. You were done playing their games.

Let them try and tame you. You had made it this far on your own, and you weren’t about to let anyone—least of all a toad in princely clothing—stand in your way.

The day had started like any other—a grey, somber morning draped in the quiet monotony you had come to know. The Grand Duchess’s estate was immaculate, polished to perfection, reflecting the cold and unyielding nature of its owner.

You moved through the day with the same precision as ever, going through endless meetings, signing off on reports, handling political maneuvers with the finesse of a seasoned war general. Yet, beneath it all, the hollowness remained.

Until that afternoon.

A delegation from the Scalding Sands had arrived, their colorful caravans contrasting sharply with the muted grandeur of your estate. You had heard they were coming—a diplomatic mission of sorts—and while you didn’t expect much from it, the formalities had to be observed. It was part of your role now, after all.

You stood at the grand entrance, waiting as the doors swung open to reveal the visiting party. A small group of advisors and servants stepped in first, but then your eyes fell on the young man leading them.

Kalim Al-Asim, heir to the most prominent merchant family in the Scalding Sands.

Dressed in vibrant silks, Kalim practically radiated joy. His bright eyes shone with unfiltered excitement, and his smile was wide, carefree, as if he was about to greet an old friend instead of a war-hardened Duchess. His enthusiasm was…disarming, to say the least.

“Grand Duchess!” Kalim called out the moment he spotted you, practically bouncing as he approached. “It’s an honor to finally meet you! Your reputation precedes you—everyone’s been talking about how amazing you are!”

You blinked, taken aback by his unabashed warmth. No one had spoken to you like that in years—so casual, so genuine. Most nobles approached you with caution, fear even, carefully curating their words to avoid upsetting the ice-cold facade you’d been forced to build. But Kalim? He had no such hesitations.

You inclined your head, keeping your tone measured. “Lord Al-Asim, welcome to my estate. I trust your journey was smooth?”

“Oh, it was fantastic! The weather was perfect, and we got to see so many beautiful sights on the way here! Your countryside is amazing—so green! Nothing like back home.” He beamed at you, his energy practically infectious. “I brought some gifts too! We have spices, silks, and a bunch of other stuff from home that I think you’ll love.”

As he rattled off the list of things he brought, you found yourself…listening. Actually listening, instead of mechanically going through the motions. There was something about his unfiltered excitement that was strangely comforting. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to you like this, without calculation or hidden motives.

“I appreciate the thought,” you replied, a small flicker of something unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “I’ll have the servants take care of the gifts. Please, come inside.”

He entered the estate like a burst of sunlight, his presence immediately brightening the space. As the servants guided his entourage to their rooms, you walked alongside him, pointing out some of the estate’s features. Kalim seemed utterly fascinated by everything.

“Wow, this place is incredible!” Kalim exclaimed as they passed through the gallery. His eyes wandered over the portraits lining the walls, the tapestries depicting your family’s history. “It’s so different from back home. You must be so proud to live here.”

Pride? You hadn’t felt pride in anything for a long time. Your estate, your title—it was all just the result of relentless hard work, the endless climb to the top. But you had never stopped to admire it. To feel pride in what you’d built.

Still, you nodded, keeping your face composed. “It serves its purpose.”

Kalim gave you a curious glance. “You know, it sounds like you’re talking about a sword instead of your home.”

A sword. That’s what your life had been, hadn’t it? A weapon, sharp and unyielding, forged in battle, cutting down every obstacle in its path. But now, with Kalim’s innocent comment, you wondered—was that all it was?

Before you could respond, Kalim suddenly paused in front of one of the massive windows overlooking the gardens. The view was breathtaking, the autumn leaves casting the scene in warm, golden hues.

“Hey, look!” Kalim pointed excitedly. “Your garden! It’s so beautiful this time of year. Do you ever just sit out there and enjoy it?”

You blinked again. Enjoy it? The idea seemed foreign, almost absurd. But then, looking at Kalim’s wide, hopeful eyes, you found yourself saying, “No… I don’t.”

Kalim turned to you, that same sunny grin never leaving his face. “You should! I mean, you’ve worked so hard, right? You deserve to enjoy the little things too.”

His words caught you off guard. You’d forgotten what it felt like to enjoy anything.

But then, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a faint smile tugged at your lips. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there.

The maids and butlers who had been quietly observing from the corners of the room nearly gasped. One of them—your head butler, who had served you since the day you first took over your family’s estate��actually dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, looking as though he might burst into tears.

“D-Duchess…!” one of the younger maids whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “She’s smiling…”

You caught sight of the butler’s reaction and, for a moment, you almost laughed. It was such a strange sight—your stoic, stern staff, so moved by something as simple as a smile.

Kalim noticed it too, tilting his head curiously. “Why’s everyone so emotional?”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping before you could stop it. “I suppose they’re not used to seeing me… enjoy myself.”

Kalim’s grin widened, his eyes practically sparkling. “Well, then, I guess we’ll have to change that! It’s about time you had some fun, right?”

You didn’t answer right away, but for the first time in years, something inside you—something long buried under layers of responsibility, grief, and betrayal—began to stir.

Perhaps he was right.

Perhaps it was time for you to remember what it felt like to live again.

The grand ballroom was a sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits, filled with nobles and dignitaries who moved gracefully across the floor, their laughter and chatter blending with the soft music from the orchestra.

You stood at the edge of the room, as you always did during these events, keeping a careful distance from the festivities. These gatherings were necessary, of course—an unavoidable part of your role—but that didn’t mean you enjoyed them.

You took a sip of the champagne in your hand, your eyes scanning the room with practiced detachment. As always, you were observing—watching the faces, reading the subtle exchanges of power and influence happening between the guests.

The weight of your title hung heavy on your shoulders, a constant reminder of the responsibilities you bore. Even here, surrounded by laughter and music, you felt that familiar distance, the wall you had built around yourself growing ever higher.

It wasn’t until you noticed the flash of bright colors weaving through the crowd that your attention shifted. Kalim Al-Asim, as vibrant as ever, was making his way through the ballroom, greeting guests with his usual exuberance.

His silks shimmered in the soft candlelight, his wide grin impossible to miss. He moved with an ease that most nobles envied, free from the stifling formality that seemed to bind everyone else.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes found yours. His face lit up with recognition, and without hesitation, he started toward you.

“Oh, there you are!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement as he reached your side. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Isn’t this ball amazing? The music, the lights, the people—it’s all so lively!”

You gave him a polite nod, your usual reserved expression in place. “It’s certainly… lively.”

Kalim laughed, clearly not picking up on your lack of enthusiasm. “You’re always so serious! You should join in the fun, you know! This kind of thing doesn’t happen every day.”

Before you could respond, he held out his hand to you, his eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. “Dance with me!”

The request caught you off guard, and you instinctively took a step back, shaking your head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t dance.”

Kalim tilted his head, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Come on! You can’t say no to a party like this! Everyone’s having such a good time—you should too.”

You opened your mouth to refuse again, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was no expectation, no hidden motive—just the same infectious joy he carried with him everywhere he went. And for a moment, you hesitated, feeling something stir inside you. When was the last time you’d allowed yourself to have fun? To do something as simple as dance?

Still, old habits were hard to break. “I’m not exactly one for dancing,” you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

But Kalim wasn’t deterred. “That’s okay! You don’t have to be good at it—you just have to enjoy it!” He took your hand, his grip warm and inviting. “Please? Just one dance?”

There was something so sincere in his request, so full of hope, that you found yourself nodding before you could think better of it.

Kalim’s face lit up with delight, and without wasting a moment, he led you out onto the dance floor. The room seemed to blur around you as he took your hand in his, guiding you into the rhythm of the music. His movements were far from graceful, but they were full of life, and you couldn’t help but be swept along by his energy.

At first, you were stiff, your posture as rigid as ever, but Kalim’s enthusiasm was contagious. He spun you around with such glee that you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprising even to yourself. Kalim grinned at you, clearly thrilled that he had coaxed a smile from you.

“See? You’re already having fun!” he said brightly.

And he was right. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you weren’t thinking about the politics of the room, the weight of your title, or the endless responsibilities waiting for you. For this brief moment, you were just… dancing. Letting go. Enjoying yourself.

As the music swelled, Kalim twirled you again, his laughter mixing with the sounds of the ballroom. The two of you were out of step with the rest of the dancers, your movements more playful than elegant, but you didn’t care. Neither did Kalim. He didn’t care about appearances or expectations—he just wanted you to be happy, and for this one dance, you let him succeed.

Around you, the other guests had begun to notice. Whispers passed between them, astonished gazes following your every move. The Grand Duchess—stoic, untouchable—laughing and dancing with such abandon was something no one had ever expected to see. Your knights, stationed at the edge of the ballroom, exchanged incredulous glances, unable to believe what they were witnessing.

“She’s dancing…” one of them murmured, barely audible. “And she’s smiling.”

Your head butler, who had been hovering nearby as always, watched with misty eyes. “This… this is a day for the history books,” he whispered, dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.

You could feel their eyes on you, the shock rippling through the room, but for once, you didn’t care. In this moment, you allowed yourself to be free, to laugh, to dance, to let go of the weight that had been pressing down on you for so long.

As the song came to an end, Kalim pulled you into one final twirl, his grin as wide as ever. When the music stopped, you found yourself breathless but… lighter. For the first time in years, you felt a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Joy.

Kalim beamed at you, clearly proud of himself. “See? I told you it’d be fun!”

You shook your head, unable to stop the small smile that lingered on your lips. “You are… impossible, Kalim.”

He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ll take that as a compliment!”

As you returned to your spot at the edge of the room, the music starting up again for the next dance, you realized that something had changed. Kalim had reminded you of something you had long forgotten—that it was okay to enjoy yourself. That even someone like you, burdened with the weight of leadership, could allow herself a moment of happiness.

And maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself more moments like this.

The night after the ball had been long and arduous, and you were ready to retreat into the sanctuary of your chambers. The walls of your estate, which had once felt like a fortress, now felt suffocating as you tried to quiet the noise in your mind.

The forced smiles, the veiled threats, the insidious whispers among the nobility—they were all routine by now, but they weighed heavier tonight.

As you reached for the door to your private quarters, a sharp knock echoed through the hallway. One of your servants stepped forward, their face pale, eyes lowered in deference.

"The Emperor has summoned you, Grand Duchess."

Your fingers froze on the door handle. The Emperor? At this hour?

Though dread prickled at your skin, you squared your shoulders and strode down the hall toward the imperial throne room. The Emperor wasn’t one for idle conversation; this was bound to be more than a simple debrief after the ball.

The grand doors to the throne room loomed before you, and with a nod from the guards, they creaked open to reveal the Emperor seated on his throne. He was draped in the finest clothes, his presence radiating authority, but there was something sharper in his gaze tonight. The first prince, stood off to the side, arms crossed, a triumphant smirk barely hidden behind his princely facade.

You stepped into the room, head held high. You wouldn’t show weakness, not here. Not in front of them.

"Your Majesty," you greeted, voice steady.

The Emperor wasted no time. “Grand Duchess, tonight’s events have caused quite a stir.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes hard as stone. “Your rejection of the First Prince in such a public manner has… complicated things.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating blanket. You clenched your fists but remained silent, waiting for him to reveal his true intention.

He sighed, a sound heavy with pretense. “The nobility is divided, and the Empire cannot afford instability. You have two choices before you.”

Your eyes flickered towards the first prince, who was barely containing his glee. You already knew what was coming.

“Marry the first prince and strengthen your position within the royal family.” The Emperor's voice was calm, deliberate. “Or, if that does not suit you…” He paused for effect, his gaze hardening as if daring you to defy him. “Marry Kalim Al-Asim and solidify our diplomatic alliance with the Scalding Sands.”

The room felt as though it had tilted. You knew this was coming, yet hearing the words spoken aloud felt like a slap across the face. “And if I refuse both?” you asked, voice colder than ice.

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “Then I will have no choice but to imprison you for defying royal decree.” He leaned back into his throne, fingers tapping on the armrest. “You’ve served this empire well, but even you are not above the law.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, fury bubbling just beneath your skin. You, who had rebuilt "your" family’s estate, who had served the empire with every drop of blood and sweat you had to give—this was your reward? An ultimatum. Marry a prince who disgusted you, or chain yourself to Kalim, someone who was the antithesis of everything you had become.

You felt your lips curl into a grim smile. “So those are my choices. A cowardly prince or shackling Kalim to someone like me—a shell of a person who’s long forgotten how to live.” The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable.

Kalim, who had been standing nearby, watching the exchange, finally stepped forward. His face was still lit with that ever-present smile, though softer now, and he didn’t seem rattled in the slightest by the gravity of the situation. “I mean… I wouldn’t mind.”

You turned to him, incredulous. What?

Kalim laughed lightly, scratching the back of his head, his tone still as carefree as ever. “I’d be happy if it’s you. Really. Out of anyone in this empire, I’d rather be with someone strong and capable like you than some stranger who doesn’t even care.” His eyes were warm, completely sincere. There wasn’t a trace of fear or doubt in his words. “Plus, you’re pretty amazing! You’ve done so much for your estate, your people... I think you’re really cool!”

For a moment, just a brief moment, your raging heart stilled.

Kalim had no idea what kind of burden this marriage would be for him. You weren’t the person you once were. The years had hardened you, chipped away at the softness, leaving only the cold, sharp edges behind. Yet here he was, smiling, accepting the situation with an ease that made you wonder how he could be so unaffected.

You swallowed hard, your anger at the Emperor still simmering, but Kalim’s words had softened the blow. This wasn’t about him. He wasn’t the one forcing you into this corner. If anything, he was as much a pawn as you were.

But that didn’t mean you would accept this quietly.

You turned back to the Emperor, the cold fire in your eyes unmistakable. “Very well,” you said, voice calm but laced with venom. “I’ll marry Kalim if that is what you demand.” You took a step forward, your gaze piercing through the Emperor. “But rest assured, Your Majesty, this humiliation will not go unanswered. I may be bound by your decree, but you will regret underestimating me.”

The Emperor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but unimpressed. “Is that a threat, Grand Duchess?”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. “A promise.”

With that, you turned on your heel, your decision made. Kalim followed you without hesitation, his steps light and unburdened.

And as you left the imperial throne room, you couldn’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye. Kalim was smiling still, bright and carefree, as if nothing had changed.

Maybe—just maybe—you would survive this ordeal with a little less bitterness than you’d expected.

But the Emperor? He wouldn’t escape unscathed. You would make sure of that.

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of your manor, casting a warm, golden light across the room as you stood in the foyer. Kalim’s people from the Scalding Sands were preparing to depart, their vibrant, colorful robes a stark contrast to the colder tones of your estate.

You watched as they bustled about, gathering their things, saying their goodbyes, and it was a strange feeling—this sudden departure of the warmth they had brought with them.

Kalim was chatting excitedly with his entourage, gesturing wildly as he recounted some tale or another. His boundless energy had not dulled, despite the situation. You wondered how someone could remain so cheerful even in the face of such an uncertain future.

One of the senior members of Kalim’s delegation approached you, bowing deeply. “Grand Duchess, we are honored by your hospitality and your graciousness in this… unexpected engagement.” He glanced at Kalim with a fond, yet slightly exasperated look. “But our duties call us back to the Scalding Sands. We regret we cannot stay longer.”

You nodded, your expression softening slightly. “You are always welcome to stay in my manor for as long as you like. Consider it an apology for the empire’s… difficult circumstances.” The words didn’t come easily, but you meant them. You hadn’t missed how awkward the situation was for them—dragged into imperial politics without much say in the matter.

The advisor looked touched, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he bowed even deeper. “Your kindness is greatly appreciated, Grand Duchess. But, alas, we must return. We have duties to fulfill back home. Our people rely on us.”

You nodded in understanding, casting a glance at Kalim, who was still busy waving goodbye to his people. “I understand. Do what you must.”

The group finished their farewells and began filing out of the estate, leaving only one person behind—Jamil, Kalim’s loyal aide, who stood with his arms crossed, looking as calm and composed as ever.

Kalim turned to you with his usual bright smile, waving at his departing entourage. “Looks like it’s just us now!”

“And Jamil,” you added dryly.

Jamil gave a polite nod. “Of course, Grand Duchess. I will remain at Kalim’s side as always.”

You offered Jamil a brief nod before turning your attention back to Kalim. “I hope the manor is to your liking. It will likely feel different without your people around.”

Kalim beamed, completely unfazed. “Are you kidding? This place is amazing! Plus, I’ve made some new friends already.”

You raised an eyebrow. “New friends?”

At that moment, the door to the kitchen swung open, and a trio of your staff—two maids and your head butler—rushed into the room, their arms filled with notepads. They hovered around Kalim, their expressions a mix of admiration and excitement.

“Lord Al-Asim,” one of the maids began eagerly, “could you tell us again how you made the Grand Duchess laugh yesterday? We’d like to take notes.”

Kalim’s face lit up even more, if that was possible. “Oh, sure! So, I was just talking about how much I love riding on magic carpets and how one time, I almost flew straight into a flock of flamingos. You should’ve seen the feathers everywhere!” He burst into laughter, and the staff furiously scribbled in their notepads.

You stood there, blinking, utterly dumbfounded. You knew Kalim had a way of getting people to like him, but this? This was something else. You caught sight of your head butler, who was listening intently, nodding along as if Kalim were revealing some great secret to unlocking your happiness.

Kalim, noticing your expression, turned toward you with a huge grin. “See? I told you! They’re really interested in learning how to make you smile more!”

You couldn’t help it—a soft laugh escaped your lips. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Your estate, so accustomed to the stoic and rigid demeanor you carried, was now filled with your maids and butlers eagerly taking tips from a young merchant heir about how to bring joy into your life.

Your head butler gasped at the sound of your laugh, immediately dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief. “The Grand Duchess… she laughed again!” His voice quivered with emotion, and the younger maid next to him looked ready to burst into tears as well.

This time, you couldn’t stop yourself. You laughed—genuinely, fully, for the first time in what felt like years. The absurdity of it all, the sight of your normally stone-faced butler shedding tears of joy over something so simple, was too much.

Kalim, of course, laughed along with you, completely at ease. “See? It’s not so hard!”

You shook your head, still chuckling as you looked at him. “You’re impossible, Kalim.”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Hey, as long as you’re smiling, I’m doing something right!”

You glanced over at your butler, who was now openly weeping into his handkerchief. “Please, calm down. You’re making a scene.”

But the butler only waved a hand dramatically, unable to compose himself. “It is… a joy to witness such a thing, Grand Duchess. A joy I never thought I would see in my lifetime.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile lingered on your lips. “Honestly…”

Kalim, still grinning from ear to ear, looked at you with a warmth that, for just a moment, eased the tension that had been building in your chest since the engagement was announced. Though the situation was far from ideal, and though you still had plans to make the Emperor regret his actions, Kalim’s presence—his boundless energy and optimism—was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the storm clouds that had surrounded you for so long.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

<hr>

The bustling market was alive with the sights and sounds of your people going about their day—vendors calling out their wares, children running between the stalls, the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filling the air. It had been years since you last visited the market like this, blending in with the common folk, and you were struck by how much had changed since you were younger. The town had grown, thriving under your rule, and though you were always kept informed of the state of your territory, seeing it firsthand was a different experience altogether.

Beside you, Kalim was practically vibrating with excitement. His eyes sparkled as he took in the vibrant displays of food, crafts, and goods, his smile as wide as ever. “Wow! This place is amazing! Look at all these stalls!” He dashed ahead, marveling at the colorful array of goods, his enthusiasm as infectious as ever.

You couldn’t help but smile at his energy, though you maintained your usual composed demeanor. “This market is one of the oldest in the region. It’s a center of trade, and many of the local families have been running their stalls for generations.”

Kalim turned to you, eyes bright with admiration. “Your people look so happy! I knew you were an amazing ruler, but seeing this with my own eyes? It’s incredible! You’ve built something really special here.”

There was a warmth in his words that caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself lost in thought. You had always worked hard for your people, but you rarely took the time to reflect on how much you had accomplished. Hearing it from someone like Kalim—someone who was so honest and open in his praise—made it feel different, more personal.

He suddenly grabbed your hand, pulling you toward a food stall where a vendor was grilling skewers of seasoned meat. “Hey, we’ve gotta try some of this!” Kalim exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. “It smells so good!”

The vendor, a stout older man with a friendly smile, bowed as he recognized you. “Grand Duchess! It is an honor to serve you today. Would you like to try one of our specialties?”

You nodded, taking in the scent of the sizzling food. “I’ll have two, please.”

The vendor handed you two skewers, and you turned to Kalim, offering him one. “Here, try this.”

Without a second thought, Kalim leaned in and took a bite right from the skewer you were holding, grinning up at you as he chewed. “Mmm! This is delicious!” His face lit up in delight, and he barely waited to swallow before he added, “You have to try some too!”

Before you could react, Kalim held his own skewer up to you, expecting you to do the same. The casualness of the gesture—the ease with which he shared his food—made you pause. It had been so long since anyone had treated you like this, without the usual formality or hesitation. Almost on instinct, you leaned in and took a small bite.

The flavor was rich, the spices perfectly balanced, but it wasn’t the food that had your attention. No, it was the way Kalim was watching you, his expression full of warmth and joy, as if this simple moment meant the world to him.

Your face warmed slightly, and before you could stop yourself, you realized you were blushing.

Behind you, you heard a sharp intake of breath from one of your knights, who had been quietly trailing after you. “Did… did the Grand Duchess just blush?” one of them whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with astonishment.

Another knight, equally stunned, gasped. “She did! I saw it! She actually blushed!”

You turned to glare at your knights, trying to regain your composure. “Enough,” you said sharply, though your flustered tone betrayed you. “Focus on your duties.”

But your knights were having none of it. One of them, a young woman with a mischievous glint in her eye, exchanged glances with her comrades before whispering, “Did you see how casual she was with him? They’re feeding each other like a couple!”

Another knight, eyes wide with excitement, chimed in. “I can’t believe this! The Grand Duchess… flustered by her fiancé? It’s like we’re in a romance novel!”

You shot them another look, but Kalim, completely oblivious to the whispers and side glances, just laughed, offering you more of his skewer. “Here, have some more! You look like you liked it!”

Your heart raced at the simple, kind gesture, and though you wanted to maintain your icy composure, something about Kalim’s sincerity made it impossible to stay guarded. You took another bite, feeling your face grow even warmer as your knights barely contained their squeals of excitement.

One of the senior knights, trying to remain composed but failing miserably, muttered, “This is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Lord Al-Asim is working miracles.”

“I know!” another knight whispered excitedly. “We should take notes! Maybe we can keep her in a good mood if we learn from him.”

The absurdity of it all—the idea of your battle-hardened knights taking pointers from Kalim on how to make you smile—was too much. You couldn’t help it; a soft, genuine laugh escaped your lips.

You sighed, shaking your head as Kalim smiled up at you, completely unaware of the chaos he had just caused. “You really are impossible, Kalim.”

Kalim grinned, completely at ease. “Hey, as long as you’re happy, I’m doing something right!”

For the first time in a long while, surrounded by the people you’d worked so hard to protect and with Kalim at your side, you felt a genuine lightness in your heart. Maybe this wasn’t the life you had planned, but for now, in this moment, it didn’t seem so bad.

From the moment Kalim Al-Asim first stepped into your estate, he could feel the weight of the world pressing down on you. It wasn’t something you said or did—if anything, you were composed, graceful, carrying yourself with the kind of authority that made people hesitate before speaking to you.

No, it was something deeper, something in the way your shoulders were always so tense, the way your eyes seemed to hold a kind of tiredness that went beyond just physical exhaustion.

Kalim wasn’t blind to his own shortcomings. He wasn’t the smartest guy—he knew that. He’d been told as much more times than he could count. People often saw him as naive, too happy-go-lucky for the responsibilities placed on his shoulders.

That’s what Jamil was for, after all, to cover for his inadequacies and ensure that things went smoothly. Kalim didn’t mind. He trusted Jamil more than anyone, and he knew his limits.

But when he met you, something shifted inside him.

At first, it was just awe. You were the Grand Duchess, after all—the person everyone talked about. A ruler who had risen to power not by birthright but through sheer will and skill.

You had this aura of strength around you, like a shield. But Kalim could see the cracks in that armor, the way the weight of your responsibilities was crushing you, little by little. And it hurt to see.

He’d expected you to be cold, maybe even harsh, like so many nobles who carried the weight of authority. But when you greeted him, your voice wasn’t harsh—it was gentle. There was pressure behind it, sure, but you didn’t snap at him or dismiss his excitement, even though he knew people often found him a bit too much.

Instead, you listened to him. You smiled—a small, almost invisible one—but it was there, and it lit something inside him. A flutter he didn’t quite know how to describe.

It was when you smiled for him for the first time that he really felt it. That small, faint curve of your lips after he’d gotten a little too excited about something as simple as a window view of your garden. The flutter in his chest was unfamiliar, but he didn’t dislike it. No, in fact, it felt… nice. Special.

Kalim couldn’t help but want to make you smile again.

He’d seen so many people forced into roles that didn’t let them be happy, and he hated that you seemed to be one of them. You were strong, yeah, but you were suffering, too. And that was something Kalim couldn’t stand. So, from that moment on, he made it a personal goal to lighten the weight on your shoulders, even if just a little.

He didn’t have Jamil’s cleverness, didn’t understand the nuances of the political games you were constantly playing, but maybe—just maybe—he could give you something simple. A reminder that life wasn’t just about duty and responsibility, that there could be joy, too. If anyone deserved to smile more, it was you.

And when you did, that tiny flutter in his chest bloomed into something more. He didn’t have the words for it, but whatever it was, it made him even more determined to stick by your side.

Because in the end, Kalim Al-Asim wasn’t the smartest, but he knew one thing for sure: he liked making you happy. And if he could do that, even in the smallest ways, then maybe that was enough.

The wedding had been a grand affair—briefly mentioned in conversations, a formality that had swept through the palace in a whirlwind of silks, flowers, and the astonished murmurs of nobles. Now, life had settled into its new rhythm. The days moved forward, filled with work and the familiar weight of duty, yet something had shifted. Something brighter.

You sat at your desk, papers spread out in front of you, quill in hand. The room was quiet, save for the soft scratching of pen on parchment. But then, a familiar burst of energy entered the room.

Kalim.

He bounded over to you, practically glowing with life, as always. His smile was wide, his eyes gleaming as he plopped down beside you, legs crossed, hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

“Hey, what’re you working on? Anything exciting? You should take a break—you’ve been at it for hours!” His words bubbled up, his excitement palpable.

You glanced up from your work, unable to suppress the smallest of smiles. Kalim had that effect—an infectious lightness that made everything around him feel… easier. As he leaned closer to peer at your papers, you felt the warmth of his presence, the joy that radiated from him in every small movement.

And then, it hit you.

The past few months, since you had arrived in this world, had been the best you could remember. Despite everything—despite the weight of your responsibilities, the confusion of your new life—there had been him. Kalim, always there with his endless enthusiasm, his unwavering kindness. He was the reason those months had been so full of life, so unexpectedly joyful.

Without thinking, you reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him down onto your lap. His laughter bubbled up in surprise as you tugged him into your space, but before he could say anything, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a moment, the world stilled. His lips were soft, warm against yours, and you could feel the surprised smile lingering there, slowly deepening as he kissed you back, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

When you pulled back, his eyes sparkled, his grin wider than ever.

“Well, that was unexpected!” he laughed, his cheeks flushed. “I should interrupt your work more often!”

The chaos hit you the moment you opened the door.

Papers were scattered everywhere, an overturned chair lay dramatically in the corner, and somehow, somehow, Kalim had managed to knock over an entire shelf of books, which now covered the floor in what could only be described as a literary avalanche.

In the center of it all was Kalim himself, spinning wildly in circles as he tried to catch a parrot—yes, a parrot—that was squawking and flapping around the room like it had a personal vendetta against order.

"Oh! You're back!" Kalim shouted, not missing a beat as he stumbled over a pile of papers, arms flailing as the parrot swooped low above his head. "You wouldn’t believe it—Jamil said not to bring the bird in, but I thought, 'Hey, it’ll liven things up!' And now it’s really livening things up!"

The parrot screeched in agreement, swooping low again as Kalim tried (and failed) to dodge it, knocking into another pile of books in the process.

You just stood there, blinking, trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of what you were seeing. Your instinct—your usual instinct—would have been to explode, to demand why Kalim had brought a parrot into your office and created a scene worthy of a disaster movie.

But then Kalim turned toward you, still laughing despite the madness, his eyes bright with excitement and joy. He looked so happy, so full of life, and that grin—oh, that ridiculous, infectious grin—just melted away any irritation you might’ve felt.

You sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated, but completely smitten.

"Why did you bring a parrot in here, Kalim?" you asked, not really expecting a logical answer.

"I thought it could help!" he said earnestly, ducking again as the parrot flapped by. "You know, for moral support! But I think it’s mad about the crackers I gave it—they weren’t the fancy ones."

Despite yourself, you snorted a laugh. Fancy crackers for a parrot. Of course.

Shaking your head, you rolled up your sleeves and waded into the chaos. "Alright," you said with a sigh, "how do we calm this thing down?"

"I knew you'd help!" Kalim beamed, his grin wider than ever as he accidentally knocked over another stack of books while trying to reach for the bird. "You’re the best!"

And just like that, any frustration you might’ve felt disappeared. It was impossible to stay mad when Kalim was around, when he looked at you like that, his smile brighter than the chaos surrounding you.

Sure, you should’ve been irritated—you definitely should’ve scolded him—but the truth was, you didn’t care. Not when you liked seeing him happy like this.

The parrot screeched again, now perched on top of the chandelier, and you looked at Kalim, who was already planning his next attempt to capture it, enthusiasm never wavering.

"Alright," you muttered with a smirk, "let’s catch a parrot."

Because really, with Kalim, how could you say no?

The council chamber was as dull as ever. Endless discussions, arguments over treaties and trade, and the first prince droning on with his overinflated sense of importance. Once, you would have gritted your teeth and endured it, forcing yourself to care because you had to—because that was what duty demanded.

But now, with Kalim beside you, the air felt lighter. His presence added a quiet warmth, even in this room filled with scheming nobles and stifling protocol.

You caught Kalim sneaking glances at you, barely containing his grin, and he leaned in, whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we snuck out? I saw this really nice restaurant on the way.”

You smothered a laugh, turning your gaze downward. You’d never dreamed you could feel such joy during these dreary meetings, but here you were, caught in this bubble with him, like the two of you were the only people in the room. His happiness became your own, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The first prince’s voice faltered, his expression darkening as he noticed the soft smile you were trying to hide. Anger sparked in his eyes, a sharp glint of resentment as he realized his plans to manipulate you had come to nothing. He looked at you and Kalim as if he were staring at an infuriating puzzle—one that needed to be destroyed.

That night, after a grueling day of meetings, you made your way to your chambers. The hallways were quiet, and the familiar comforts of your estate filled you with calm, but something felt off. Shadows stretched where they shouldn’t, moving unnaturally, as if they had a life of their own. Your instincts kicked in, and you quickened your pace.

You reached your shared bedroom, a flicker of movement catching your eye. There, in the corner, figures clad in dark robes converged around Kalim. His eyes widened, but before he could react, you lunged forward, fury blazing in your veins.

You fought them off with nothing but raw strength and sheer will, each blow desperate and ferocious. They struck at you, blades glinting, and you felt pain slice across your skin, but you refused to yield, refusing to let them get anywhere near him.

At last, the final attacker crumpled to the floor. You staggered, blood staining your clothes, the pain seeping into every limb, but Kalim’s arms were already there, catching you before you could fall.

His expression was uncharacteristically serious, his cheerful demeanor replaced by something sharp, regal—a reminder that he was no mere boy in love but the heir of a powerful family.

The doctor arrived, working quickly, and once you were settled in bed, Kalim took a seat beside you. His gaze was steady, intense, and for the first time, you saw the weight of responsibility in his eyes, the silent authority he usually kept hidden beneath layers of laughter and joy.

“Why did you fight them alone?” he asked quietly, his hand reaching to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You didn’t have to—”

You shook your head, a faint smile pulling at your lips. “Because no one hurts you. Not while I’m here.”

His hand stilled, and a flicker of pain crossed his face. “I didn’t have to stay, you know.” His voice was soft but firm, carrying the weight of a decision made long ago. “I’m not tied to this empire. My family’s influence is vast; we don’t need anyone’s approval. But I stayed… because I like being here with you. Because I…” His voice faltered, but his gaze held yours. “Because I love you.”

Kalim’s hand clasped yours, his fingers warm and steady. “The Scalding Sands will manage without this empire. And this place… it doesn’t deserve you. Not when it has hurt you like this.” His voice grew colder, a tone you’d never heard from him before. “Let it fall apart, for all I care. I’m done watching it drain the life out of you.”

For a long moment, you lay there, absorbing the enormity of his words. A world without the burden of duty, free from the endless cycles of treachery and expectation. And Kalim beside you, offering not just escape, but freedom, and a life filled with joy.

A soft laugh escaped you, surprising even yourself. “I don’t care if the empire crashes and burns,” you murmured, your hand tightening around his. “I don’t care about any of it. I just want you.”

Kalim’s eyes softened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing gently against yours. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with a promise of a new beginning. It was a moment that felt like the closing of one life and the opening of another, a vow sealed with warmth and certainty.

You both pulled back, breathless but smiling, a new, shared future blooming between you. And when you finally closed your eyes, your hand still in his, you knew you’d face whatever came next together, no matter where it led.

The final ball was as grand as ever, the ballroom filled with nobles dressed in the finest silks and jewels, their laughter and chatter a thin veil over the ever-present tension in the room.

You entered with Kalim by your side, the weight of what you were about to do settling over you like armor. The empire had always been a battlefield for you, but tonight… tonight, you were walking away from it all.

At the far end of the ballroom, the Emperor sat on his gilded throne, the golden imperial crest looming behind him. His eyes scanned the room lazily, but you could see the calculation in his gaze. Beside him stood the First Prince, his eyes narrowing at you the moment you entered. His jaw clenched, the flicker of rage barely contained beneath the surface.

You weren’t here to dance, though. No, tonight was about setting yourself free.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the center of the ballroom, Kalim’s presence a comforting warmth beside you. The chatter died down almost instantly, and all eyes turned toward you. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd—what was the Grand Duchess planning now?

You gave them no time to speculate.

“Your Majesty,” you called out, your voice sharp enough to cut through the murmurs. “I stand before you one last time to say this: I will no longer serve this Empire.”

The room fell into stunned silence, gasps echoing off the walls. The Emperor’s eyes darkened, his hand gripping the armrest of his throne tightly, but you didn’t stop.

“Your empire,” you continued, your voice rising, “is built on the backs of people far better than you. You are a rotten king. You speak of honor and glory, but all you do is send others to die for your own ambition. I bled for this empire, fought your wars, won your battles, and for what? So you could sit on your throne, pretending to be a ruler when you’re nothing but a coward hiding behind false titles?”

The nobles gasped again, their shock palpable. No one had ever spoken to the Emperor like this.

“And you,” you snapped, turning toward the First Prince, your eyes blazing. “You—who ordered the assassination of my husband because I rejected you—are even worse. A spineless coward with nothing to back your ego. You hide behind your father’s power, hoping that killing the man I love will somehow make me regret not choosing you. But I could never love someone as weak as you. You are pathetic.”

His face turned an ugly shade of red, his hand twitching toward the sword at his side, but you weren’t afraid. You had seen what he was capable of—nothing.

The Emperor finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “You dare insult your emperor, the man who gave you your title?”

“I earned my title,” you snapped, stepping forward. “I didn’t need your permission or your favor to become who I am. You gave me nothing that I didn’t take for myself. And I’ll tell you this—I will never fight another war for someone as revolting as you.”

The Emperor’s mask of indifference cracked, his eyes blazing with fury, but behind it, you could see the desperation. He needed you. The Empire needed you. They couldn’t afford to lose you.

He leaned forward, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “What do you want? Wealth? Power? I’ll give you anything. Just don’t walk away.”

You almost laughed at the irony of it—this man who had always acted like you were disposable, now begging you to stay.

But you didn’t need his power. You didn’t need his wealth. You glanced at Kalim, who stood beside you with that same warmth, that same unshakable love in his eyes. And in that moment, you knew exactly what you wanted.

“Kalim is enough,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I don’t need anything from you.”

With that, you turned on your heel, not sparing the Emperor or his pathetic son another glance. Kalim followed without question, his hand finding yours as you walked out of the ballroom, your loyal knights, butler, and maids falling in step behind you.

You could hear the stunned whispers of the nobles behind you, their shock hanging in the air like a tangible thing, but you didn’t care. You had walked away from the Empire, from its corruption, from its endless, soul-sucking games.

And now? Now, you were free.

As the cool night air hit your face, Kalim squeezed your hand, his bright smile lighting up the darkness. “So,” he said, his voice filled with excitement, “where should we go first on our adventure?”

You laughed softly, feeling lighter than you had in years. “Anywhere. Everywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

And with that, you ran. Away from the Empire, away from the pain of your past, toward a future filled with love, adventure, and endless possibilities.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you were truly happy.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

[oneforthemunny]

if i knew then |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: a collection of flashbacks from before.

contains: angst. like idk how else to say it- ow ow ow angst. all flashbacks. teen pregnancy, unexpected pregnancy. shitty judgy people. insecurities. dream crushing. fighting. language. really just bittersweet angst. chaos. they're so not good and immature in these. also might be a part one to a two part series.

October 17th, 1985

“We’re gonna get caught, Eddie.” Your heart trilled, heavy and hard at a thundering pace, his hand holding yours so sweetly, guiding you through the small patch of forestry that led to the football stadium- you hoped he couldn’t feel how your palms were beginning to sweat. 

“Who’s gonna catch us?” Eddie turned, chin hooking over his shoulder to give you a teasing grin. He pushed back a limb, unbothered that the branches were undoubtedly scratching at his leather jacket. “No one’s gonna be out here unless they’re doin’ the same shit we are, sweetheart. Promise ya.” 

Your tummy flipped with an adrenaline rush of heat, squeezing his hand tighter, moving closer to him as the dirt path turned to broken concrete, the Hawkin’s High School football stadium vacant of light, but bleachers standing high in the moonlight. 

Eddie moved towards the back side of the chain link fence, to the corner, heavy boot sliding under the exposed chain metal, lifting it so it peeled upwards. “After you,” Eddie bowed playfully, nodding towards the small gap. 

Your lips twisted, heat pricking at your cheeks. “I should’ve worn pants, I guess.” You muttered, hands smoothing over the skirt you’d chosen instead, despite the chilly temperatures. You knew Eddie liked you in a skirt, eyes always lingering and flickering towards your exposed legs. Even before you were ‘official’, you’d always catch him looking during fourth period. 

“‘S alright,” Eddie shrugged, lips puckering and pulling into a smirk he tried to hide. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

“Eddie,” You hissed, a trilling squeal of excitement in your tone, looking over your shoulder as you shimmied through the small space, careful not to pick your sweater. 

Eddie grinned, though you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted, catching a peek as you crawled in. He followed you closely, expertly sliding in before the chain fencing snapped back into place. You wondered how many times he’d snuck in here before. Maybe he was the one who made the hole in the fence to begin with. If he’d brought any other girls with him before. 

Eddie’s hand found your back, sliding over to your hip, pulling you close into him. “See? No one’s here.” Eddie nodded, motioning towards the empty rows of bleachers, the vacant football field. “You can relax now, baby, told you no one would be here.” 

“Yeah?” You hummed, leaning into his chest, warm cotton brushing your skin. “Guess I should trust you. Seems like you’ve done this a few times before.” 

Eddie’s chest rumbled with a laugh, squeezing the fat of your hip. “Only a few.” 

“Yeah? With who?” You scoffed lightly, brows pinched when you looked up at him. 

Eddie’s brows raised in amusement, lips rolling and biting back a grin. “Really hot chick, ya know? Her name was Gareth.” Eddie snorted in laughter. “I’ve only been here one time, last year with Gareth. We spray painted Kimmy Frank’s number on the field, wrote ‘call for a good time’ under it after she stood Jeff up at homecoming.”

“That was you?” You gawked. 

“Yeah,” Eddie smirked proudly. “She deserved it. Asked him out and got him all excited, then laughed at him when he showed up. Said it was a dare and called him names. Really fucked him up, ya know? So we thought we’d embarrass her.” 

“It definitely worked.” You muttered, passing the twenty yard line that stood out from the others with a fresh coat of paint, from Eddie and Gareth’s handiwork. “Didn’t the Franks have to change numbers because so many people were calling?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie snorted with a laugh. “I might’ve put it in the stall at The Hideout, too.” 

Your heart skipped, stomach dropping with the same prickling rush of fear and excitement it always did when you were with Eddie. The head reeling, mind numbing kind of rush that had you brainlessly going into any situation with him. 

“Here,” Eddie pulled you from your own thoughts, stopping at the center of the field. “This feels like a good spot.” 

“Eddie-” You looked around, towards the fence then the other side. You were so exposed, right in the middle of the field, for anyone to see. 

“-Baby, I told you, no one’s gonna come. Believe me.” Eddie hummed, shimmying off his jacket. “It’s not like this is Fort Knox or somethin’. It’s a public high school. No one’s giving a shit who’s here.” 

You bit at your lip, rolling it around as you tugged at your fingers, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach. It had been growing and growing since you first decided to sneak out, after your parents had gone to bed, slipping through the window and running down the quiet street towards Eddie’s can parked on the corner. 

“C’mon,” Eddie muttered, cold hands catching your jaw, the metal of his rings meeting your own wind bitten cheeks, pulling you into him. “I’m not gonna let you get in trouble.” 

“I feel like you are the trouble.” You muttered, your body betraying your brain, letting yourself slip into his hold, hands pulling at his shirt. 

Eddie grinned, lips barely brushing before they captured yours, pulling you into him. Hands pulling at your clothes, your hips, sinking onto the cold grass. Eddie laid you back on his leather jacket, a gentleman, you mused. Shoving his pants and boxers around his thighs, he flipped your skirt up, lips still pulling at yours as he rutted into you. Your head spun, dizzy with excitement and pleasure, fists balling at the fabric of his shirt, hoping the sun would stay gone forever so the night would never end. 

July 28th, 1986

“Holy shit,” Eddie muttered, cradling the can of Similac. “Is there not a knock off version of this?” 

“No,” You hissed, rocking Jude close to your chest. 

You could feel the judging eyes of the couple beside you. Their baby in a stroller, cart full of diapers and groceries, the woman’s left hand adorning a rather large diamond, the man clean cut in a suit and tie. The polar opposite of you and Eddie, two scraggly looking teens with a two month old baby, and an empty cart. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to just get some of Marsha’s milk?” Eddie asked, turning to look at you. “She said she’s overproducing anyways, and she’d give you some bottles since you’re not-” 

“-Eddie,” Your body burned with embarrassed heat, tensing as the others in the aisle turned, lips pursed in disapproval. “Just get the formula.” 

“Baby, this is two-fifty a can. Marsha said she’d give it for free. I don’t see why you wouldn’t just take that.” Eddie said, trying to rationalize with you. 

The older woman beside you scoffed, her nose sticking in the air in disapproval as she turned to the young girl beside her. “And that’s why you don’t have a baby before you're married. You don’t want to end up like these two.” Her eyes narrowed towards you and Eddie. “It’s unfair to the baby.” 

Your heart stopped, fell into your stomach, your breath leaving with it. You thought you’d be used to this- the dirty, judgy looks when you went to prom nearly nine months pregnant, or when you barely made it to graduation after you had Jude three days prior. Still, it felt like a suckerpunch to your sternum every time. You’d blame the consuming shame as the reason you barely left the house now. 

“Lady, mind your own fuckin’ business, alright?” Eddie snapped, a growl in his voice that left her jumping, hurriedly pushing the cart down the aisle. 

You didn’t dare look to the couple beside you, but you could feel their judgment burning through you. Jude had begun to fuss the moment you entered the store, picking up on your apprehension that left him unsettled, until he finally began to cry. 

“Shit,” Eddie muttered, looking down at the baby, his face beginning to scrunch with the warning of a wail. “Here, take him to the car and I’ll check out.” 

“No, I can check out.” You shook your head, overwhelmed with the interaction from before and now this. “We still need diapers.” 

“I can get diapers-” 

“-No.” You snapped, teeth baring in irritation. “You always get the wrong size. I can get them.” Your voice was harsh, stilling Eddie and you both with shock in the aisle. 

Jude’s whimpering cries were beginning to grow louder over the beating of your heart thundering in your ears. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, looking down at Jude, then back at Eddie. “I just… I need a second.” 

Eddie nodded slowly, pulling out his wallet and passing it to you. “I got him.” Eddie muttered, slowly taking Jude from your arms. “I’ll be in the van. Take your time, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your head before he left you. 

You felt nearly robotic, pushing down the aisles towards the diapers. The dirty looks were gone, they left with Eddie and Jude, but a suffocating feeling of guilt took its place. The woman’s words ringing in your ears, unfair to the baby. Maybe it was, your mind screamed, as you stood in line at the check out. Maybe it was unfair that you couldn’t afford the luxury swaddlers, or that you couldn’t even produce enough milk to feed Jude. Maybe your parents were right, you had made a mistake. 

“Do you have any coupons?” The teenage cashier dead panned, a bored look in her eyes as she pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Oh, yeah- yes, I do.” You muttered, flipping through Eddie’s wallet for the coupons you’d clipped out of the newspaper this week, handing them over with a shame you were unsure of. 

The cashier punched in the number, the register dinging as the total rolled over at the top. “Twelve- seventy-two.” She muttered. 

You pulled the ten dollar bill out, heart sinking as you flipped through the contents, the folds and flaps of Eddie’s leather wallet. Where was the five you put in here last night? You know you gave it to him- 

“Ma’am,” The cashier huffed. “It’s twelve-seventy-two.” 

“I-I know.” Your chest tightened, lungs constricting. “I-I know I had more. I-I’m sorry, I just- I know I put it in here-” 

“-Ma’am, if you don’t have enough-” 

“-No, I have enough.” You snapped, startling the cashier. “I just- I know I put it in here, just-  Are you sure you added the coupons?”

“Yes,” The cashier snapped. You could feel your heart thundering in your chest, ears ringing, hands trembling. “Lady, I’ve got a line. If you don’t have the money, I’m going to have to ask you to leave and you can come back when you have enough.” 

“I can’t-” You pressed your eyes shut, your voice shaking. “H-How much without the formula?” 

“Just the diapers?” The cashier huffed. “Eight dollars and seven cents.” 

“Fine. I-I’ll just get those.” You muttered, eyes cutting to the line behind you. 

“Just the diapers?” The cashier asked, brow lifting with annoyance. 

“Yes.” You muttered, hands shaking when you reached for the ten dollar bill, eyes pricking with tears.  

“That will be eight dollars and-” 

“-Add the formula back on.” A voice behind you said softly. 

You jumped, turning towards the woman behind you. “I’ll pay for them.” She said softly, giving you a gentle nod. 

“No, no, I-I couldn’t ask you-” 

“-You didn’t.” The woman shook her head, sliding the twenty dollar bill over to the cashier. “Everyone needs a little help every now and then, and I’m happy to help.” 

Your lip trembled, jaw clenching to keep in your tears. “Thank you.” Your voice was broken, a barely there whisper that burned when it made its way out of your chest. 

“Don’t mention it.” The woman waved with a smile. “How old is your baby?” 

“T-Two months.” You croaked, sniffling back a wet sob. 

“A fun age.” She grinned. “Two months is great, but two years- ooh.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “That’s when they become little gremlins.” 

The cashier handed back the change, passing you the bagged formula and diapers. “Please, let me at least give you some money, an-and I can pay you back the rest by the end of the week, I swear.” You rambled, reaching for a pen off the counter, flipping your receipt over. “If you give me your name, an-and phone number, I’ll-” 

“-That’s not necessary, dear, I promise.” The woman shook her head at you lightly. “But if you don’t mind me asking, are you working?” 

Your chin ducked, spinning the pen around in your hands. “I-I waitress during the week at Benny’s. It’s been hard finding a job, because…” You looked down at the groceries, voice tightening in your throat. 

The woman nodded, reaching for the pen in your hands. “Well, if you’re interested in something else, I work at Vance Insurance and we’re looking for a receptionist.” She scribbled an address on the back of your receipt with her name- Sheila. “We just need someone young who knows how to work the phones, and can help us transfer calls, schedule appointments. Is that something you can do?” 

“I- Yes, I can do that.” You nodded furiously. 

“Wonderful.” Sheila grinned, passing the pen back to the cashier. “Stop in anytime this week and they’ll interview you. It’s a good starting place, good benefits- especially for a baby.” 

“Thank you,” Your eyes watered, brimming with tears that fell slowly down your cheeks. “I just- I can’t thank you enough, really, this is too kind-” 

“-Everyone needs help sometimes.” Sheila repeated gently. “I was you not too long ago, just needing some help. Like I said, I’m happy to help.” 

You nodded, clutching the receipt in your hands as you walked towards the sliding doors of the entrance. You held onto the receipt, buried it deep in your pocket until Monday morning. 

February 2nd, 1989

“Motherfucker,” Eddie hissed, ringed hand slapping down on the sticky table top. “A dollar?” 

“C’mon, ‘least it’s somethin’, right?” Darrel snickered from beside Eddie, bussing the booth next to him, emptied beer glasses splashing in the bin. “Could be nothin’ like that table before.” 

“Bunch of assholes,” Eddie grunted, shoving the dollar in his pocket. “Dude has a BMW and can’t tip more than a dollar?” 

“Those are the worst kinds, man.” Darrel shook his head. “Ones with the most are the stingiest.” 

“You’re tellin’ me.” Eddie scoffed, shoving the emptied bourbon glass in the bin. “That’s why I quit workin’ at Elroy’s.” 

“You quit at Elroy’s?” Darrel gaped. “When? I thought you just started that job, man, what happened?” 

“Psh, he’s a dick.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Had me doin’ all the dirty work, making nothing, while he’s making six figures and just sits there bitching at all of us nobodies.” Eddie shook his head. “I got sick of it. I’m not working for some asshole and making no money. Besides, it was cuttin’ into my time playing here.” 

Darrel nodded slowly, head shaking with a shrug. “Yeah, that’s… That’s tough, Ed.” He hummed. “What about the Mrs? She pissed at you for quitting another job.” 

“No,” Eddie snapped, far too quickly and too defensively for it to be true. Pissed was an understatement. You’d had a fight so big, so loud, the neighbors two trailers down had to come check on you. 

“This is the third job this year, Eddie!” You had roared, throwing your arms out. “How the fuck are we going to afford a house when you keep doing this shit?” 

“Will you relax? We’ll be fine, we’ve always been fine. I’ll find another-” 

“-We’ve always been fine because I have a job.” 

“Baby, when I make it big, you won’t have to work. I’ll take care of us- all of us, ok? I’m working on it. I’ve gotten a bunch of gigs in Indianapolis-” 

“-That don’t pay.” You sneered. “That you spend more money on gas to get to than you actually make-” 

“-You gotta spend a little money to make money, baby. That’s business!” Eddie huffed, throwing his hands up. It was the same fight, it always was. 

“Spend what money? My money?” You scoffed. “Taking money away from Jude so you can, what? Play pretend rockstar? Grow up, Eddie!” 

That had been three nights ago. You hadn’t talked to Eddie since then. He’d slept on the couch every night since the fight. 

“Look, I-I got another job lined up.” Eddie bristled, shaking his head, trying to drown out your cruel words still ringing in his head. “I’m playing for Oktoberfest at this bar in Indianapolis. There’s gonna be a shit ton of people there, and who knows? Could be a producer or someone there to sign us. The guy over there said they’re always coming in from Chicago, seeing what talent is around.” 

“Oh, it’s a gig?” Darrel looked at him, not nearly as excited as Eddie thought he would be. “Not a job.” 

“I mean, yeah, it’s both-” 

“-You’re gettin’ paid?” Darrel lifted a brow. 

“Yeah, it’s not- it’s not much. Like fifty bucks, but that’s not with tips, and they cover my tab for the night.” Eddie stuttered defensively. It sounded like a much better deal when the owner pitched it to him. 

Darrel nodded slowly, fingers tapping on the bin. “Well, good luck then.” He muttered, wiping down the table. “But, uh, if there’s not a producer or whatever, you know my cousin is still looking for help with his HVAC business. If you’re ever looking for anything.” 

Eddie’s chest burned with furious heat, scoffing as he pulled away, moving to the next table. Who the fuck does he think he is? Eddie fumed, jaw set tight, teeth grinding with fury. 

The rest of the night wasn’t better, despite the crowd. Eddie pocketed a solid thirty-seven dollars, and some change an asshole at the corner booth left. He cut it down thirty-six dollars before he made it home, stopping by the liquor store for a pack of Camels. 

Eddie was surprised the living room light was still on when he came in, quietly shutting the door in case you and Jude were asleep on the couch again. 

“Baby,” Eddie whispered, creeping into the room. He found you sitting, awake, on the couch, arms crossed over your chest, eyes red rimmed and glassy. 

“Oh, I thought you were asleep.” Eddie muttered, voice still hushed as he shook off his jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch. 

Your lips pursed, arms still tight across your chest. “Jude is with Wayne tonight.” You said, though your voice didn’t carry the usual purr it did when you’d told him that before. Tonight, it was filled with icy malice. 

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie grinned, leaning over the couch towards you, arms wrapping around your frame, face pressing into your neck. “Good. I’ve had the worst fuckin’ day, and I’ve missed you. Missed sleepin’ in the bed with you, baby.” His lips tugged at your ear lobe, teeth grazing your skin. 

“Stop, we’re not…” You huffed, pushing him off you gently, standing from the couch. “We need to talk, Eddie.” 

Eddie’s heart dropped, sinking deep in the pit of his stomach. “Talk? About what?” His shoulders slumped, gripping the back of the couch with an exhale of exhaustion. “Baby, you know I didn’t mean it when I said that. I was just pissed, and… C’mon, you know I’d never really mean tha-” 

“-I’m pregnant.” Your words echoed through the small living room of the trailer, a silence settling around the two of you after that. 

Eddie’s mouth opened then closed, words strangled in his throat. “Pregnant?” Suddenly he was eighteen again, heart stilled in his chest, ears ringing with what he was sure was delusion. 

“What- I mean, how- No, I-I know how, I just…” Eddie swallowed around the thick lump in his throat, head spinning with the news. “That’s-That’s great.” 

Your choked sob startled him, left him flinching as your hand moved to your mouth, muffling your cries. “Hey, hey, what’s- Baby, don’t cry.” Eddie soothed, his voice calmer now than it was four years ago. 

Your wet cheeks pressed into his shirt, the overwhelming scent of stale cigarettes making you retch and gag. He should have known you were pregnant a week ago, when he’d slipped in the bed beside you after a night shift at The Hideout and you had gagged, shoved him out of the bed and told him to shower. “I can smell smoke in your hair, Ed. It’s giving me a headache.” 

He let you go, back away from him with a cry that turned into a gag that faded into a cough then back to a sob. “What’s wrong?” Eddie hesitated, his hands reaching out to you then back to his sides, unsure of what to do. “Why-Why are you crying? Are you not- I mean, hey, at least we’re married this time and… and adults.” 

He thought the little joke he made might calm you down, soothe you a little, not send you into another wave of sobs. Face crumbling, shoulders shaking with tears. “What- Why are you crying?” Eddie’s brows furrowed, reaching out for you. “Are you- Are you not happy?” 

“No,” You spat, sniffing back a wet cry. “I mean, yes but…” Your teary eyes met his, lip shaking with a cry you tried to swallow. “I-I don’t think it’s the ri-right time.” 

Eddie frowned. “Well, it’s a little late for that, sweetheart.” His hand rubbed over your arm soothingly. “What’s the matter, hm? What’s got you upset? This should be a good thing.” 

“Should be,” You spat with a wet sob. “Eddie, we barely make it as it is, and…and we’re never going to be able to afford two kids when you won’t stay at a job.” Your breath hitched, the harsh truth you’d kept in for months finally tumbling out, laying on him thickly in the room. 

Eddie’s lips pursed, tightened in a straight line. “I have a job.” 

“The Hideout is not a job.” You countered. “Not one that can support two kids, Eddie, be serious.” 

“I am being serious.” Eddie crossed his arms defensively. “And it’s not my main job, anyways, you know that.” You fought back an eye roll, the tears flooding your vision instead. 

“Baby, I know it doesn’t pay much right now, but all I need is one chance, ok? One time, just someone out there hearing me play, and-and then everything will change. We’ll be set for life. More than set.” Eddie gushed, reaching out to hold you. 

His eyes were wide, wild with the same excitement they were years ago, when he’d first told you his dream of being a rockstar. But that was before- before Jude, before you’d gotten married, before reality hit you in the face and knocked you on your feet. Before you’d become bitter with the harsh realization that dreams were for the lucky few, and that you weren’t. 

“I can’t…” You pressed a hand to your mouth, taking a deep breath you hoped would calm your nerves, settle your stomach. “Eddie, I- we don’t have time for one day. We have a family right now.” Your tear stained eyes met his. 

“I can’t afford to live off a dream that may happen.” Your lips pressed together, swallowing back a cry. 

Eddie’s face fell, and you could practically see his heart shattering. “What-What are you saying?” 

“That you need to grow up.” Your tone clipped, bitter and cold in the echo of the room. “You have a kid- two, now, an-and it’s not fair to them that they suffer because you want to chase down a dream that might happen.” 

Eddie’s heart sunk, burning with a soul crushing ache he hadn’t felt in years. “What? You think I can’t make it? That-That I’m not good enough?” 

Your eyes closed, taking in a deep, calming breath to steady yourself. “I never said that.” You looked at him. “Maybe if… if things would have been different, you could go out every night an-and play wherever and do whatever, but they’re not. We have Jude and another on the way, and…” 

There was a pause, neither one of you sure how to fill it, what to say. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, willing your tears down. “You have to choose, Eddie.” Your voice shook gently, uncertainty filling each syllable. “If you want to go and make it big, fine, but I am not going to keep bankrolling your trips. Either get a job and grow up and be a father, or go be a rockstar.” 

“That’s so fucked.” Eddie scoffed. “You know that? That is so fucked, and-and manipulative and- You know I love you and Jude, and I’d do anything-” 

“-Then go get a job.” You snapped. “Go get a job and grow up, Eddie. Grow up and be an adult. Stop quitting every five seconds because something is mildly uncomfortable. Do you think I’m happy all the time at my job? No, but I stay because I have to, for Jude and for you.” 

Eddie swallowed back the burn of tears that built in the back of his throat, embarrassment maybe anger spilling hot out of his chest. “It’s time to grow up, Eddie.” Your eyes couldn’t meet his as you walked towards the door. “The choice is yours.” 

Eddie’s fists balled when you shut the bedroom door, stalking towards the front door, slamming it so hard behind him the trailer shook. He fished for his keys, yanking the van door open. You heard the gravel flying, the squeal of the tires following when he tore out of the drive. You squeezed your eyes together, letting out a pathetic sob in the still and silent room. 

Hours later, long after you’d cried yourself to sleep, you felt the bed dip. You smelled the smoke before you felt him, sliding next to you under the sheets, Eddie’s hands finding your waist. 

“I called Darrel.” Eddie said into the quiet darkness of the room, his voice hoarse with emotion. “His cousin said I could start Monday.” 

You turned, blinking with burning eyes, still raw from tears. “Really?” You croaked. 

Eddie swallowed before he nodded, and you pretended not to notice the way his lip shook. “You’re right. I…I need to grow up and be a man- be a better husband and father to Jude and the baby.” His voice was tight. 

Your words rang through Eddie’s head every day he got up, dragging himself out of bed and to work. What started as a motivating mantra, something he’d chant in his mind to get him through the tiresome shifts slowly became tainted, fading into a bitter, mocking reminder. Every time he’d pass by The Hideout, seeing the next gaggle of wannabe rockers on stage. Every time the radio would play a new band, someone his age who had gotten lucky, been at the right place at the right time and got discovered. He’d stew over it, fuming about how that could have been him. Resentment building that he tried to swallow down, the painful reminder of what could have been.

[classyrbf]

STILL IN LOVE! #11 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, nanami x reader, nanami acts ooc for the plot, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

series masterlist

The smell of food filled your nostrils as you stirred in your sleep. The softness of the sheets wrapped around your skin, only tempting you to stay in bed longer. A soft groan left your lips, prying open your eyes to find the sun shining through your room, peeking through the curtains. A yawn escaped your lips as you stretched, sitting up in bed to find that you were completely rid of your clothes. Events from last night played back in your head like a movie, reminding you of the confession you shared with your ex husband. A small smile plastered on your face when you looked over to the other side of the bed only to find it empty. Brows furrowed, quickly whipping your head to the other side to find it was nine in the morning, way past the kids time for school. “Shit!”

You scrambled to your feet, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you snatched your robe from your clothes, tying it around your waist while you practically ran out the room. “Naya, Megs!” You yelled, knocking on their bedroom doors before opening it. You stopped in your tracks when you were met with a neatly made bed.

“Hey,” a voice called out to you. You turned around, there standing before you was a shirtless Toji, a plate of food in hand along with a glass of orange juice. “Good morning.”

“Where are…where are the kids?” You cleared your throat, slowly shutting Megumi’s bedroom door. Toji looked at you for a few seconds before laughing. “What?” You asked, confused.

“I brought them to school this morning. Got ‘em up and everything. Don’t worry, mama.” He licked his lips before letting out a sigh. “Come eat, will you?” He turned away from you, heading towards the kitchen table where he had his plate of food ready.

You breathed in deeply, the scent of freshly cooked eggs, waffles and syrup made your stomach rumble. “Thank you, Toji. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” He slides his hands over your waist, pulling you into his chest, hands now resting on the small of your back. He stares into your eyes for a few moments, getting lost in them before speaking, “are we gonna talk about last night or…?” He says in a playful tone, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“What about last night?” You let a small giggle when he presses kisses against your skin. Your arms naturally found their way around his neck, pulling his larger figure closer.

“I want you to know I meant every word. I swear to you.” His tone is serious and empathetic. A small sigh escaped his lips when he lifted his head to look at you, taking in your beauty even if you’d just waken up. One of his large hands cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing it. You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, butterflies in your stomach like you were some high schooler with a crush.

You don’t understand the relationship between you and Toji, you don’t know why you two are always so drawn towards each other no matter the obstacles that get in your way. Just when you think it’s over for good, it not. It’s either you or him clawing your back up the walls that you both build until one of you are finally ready to give in. But you can’t deny that you love him—you always have.

“I missed these type of mornings with you, mama. I just want us to be a happy family again. Wanna do right by you and the kids, you understand?” His brows pinch together. His kisses your forehead as you both embrace each other, enjoying the silence.

“I understand, Toji,” you mumble into his broad chest, closing your eyes, rocking back and forth on your feet. “But I need you to understand something for me.”

“Anything,” he’s quick to respond, rubbing your back.

“We can’t just rush into the whole process. Trust me, I’d like too, but I think taking things slow and working everything out will help us realize what we need to fix,” you explain.

“Yeah,” he nods his head, “yeah, of course.” He takes in a deep breath. “Why don’t you go and freshen up before we eat?”

“Good idea.” You look down at the robe that was barely covering you, and you were afraid to look at your hair. He watches as you walk into the bathroom, smiling to himself. Ever since yesterday he can’t stop smiling like a kid in a candy store. He’s finally making progress, showing you that he can be better, that he’s changed. It’s all he’s ever thought about since the divorce, and quite frankly, he’d never thought he’d see this day come. He’s a lucky man, all thanks to you. He doesn’t know why you even still give him the time of day with the way the end of the marriage was going, but he’s grateful you’re still here.

Toji grabs two sets of forks, setting them down at yours and his plates. He could hear the faint sound of water running in the bathroom before the doorbell rang. His eyes wandered over to front door, confusion plastered across his face. He made his way over to the door, unlocking it, expecting it to be a package maybe or a salesperson, but no, it wasn’t anything like that. It was Nanami.

Toji finally got a good look at the man, the scar on his lip quirked when he saw how put together the man was for it being so early. Hair neatly place, business casual clothing, and gold watch adorned his wrist. Just as Toji was taken aback by Nanami, Nanami was taken aback by Toji. When he knocked on the door, he didn’t expect a shirtless man who looked like he had just rolled out of bed to open your door. “Uh, good morning.” Nanami awkwardly cleared his throat.

Toji leaned against the doorway. “Morning,” he simple responded.

“Is y/n here?” Nanami asked, raising a brow.

“She is.” Toji gave blunt answers, eyes narrowing as he wondered why he couldn’t possibly want to talk to you. He couldn’t be trying to win you back? Right? Unwanted jealously bubbled in his chest, his jaw clenching at the feeling.

“Can I speak with her?” Nanami’s questions sounded unsure given Toji’s attitude.

“She’s busy.” Toji went to shut the door before Nanami spoke again.

“Well can you tell her to call me?” Nanami was becoming irritated. He couldn’t quite place it but the man standing in front of him sounded familiar, looked familiar. Though they’ve never properly met, was this Toji?

“She won’t be doing that—”

“Toji, who’s that at the door?” You walked up behind him, the cold air from outside sending chills through your body, goosebumps littering your skin. Over Toji’s tall stature you could see familiar blonde hair and you got closer it felt like your heart dropped. “Kento.” Slightly shock riddled your voice.

“Y/n, can I speak with you?” So that is him. His eyes shifted from you to Toji, glaring. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“I, uh…” You blinked, stuck on what to say or even do. “What would like to talk about?” You crossed your arms over your chest, Toji standing behind you like he was some sort of assigned bodyguard.

“Our last conversation. On the phone. I…I shouldn’t have been that harsh about it. I regret what I said to you,” he sighed.

“What exactly do you regret?” You shrugged your shoulders.

“How I…ended things,” he admitted. “It was a heat of the moment type of thing—”

“Kento,” you held you hand out in front of him, “I appreciate you coming to speak me in person, I really do. But, I think it was better thar we ended things. You made me realize the truth about—”

“So you are still in love with him.” He interrupted, sharing looks between you and Toji.

“I am.” You nodded.

Nanami let out a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. He didn’t want to believe he was right, maybe he was just overthinking, seeing too much into it. But no, he wasn’t. “So you were just using me?”

“God, no! You’re a great guy, and I enjoyed the moments we spent together, I didn’t want to end things with you, but when you ended it with me, said those words to me, I started to think that maybe you were right. He was my husband for years, the father my children, I can’t just forget about that so easily.” You nervously bit the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry, Kento. There’s still so many things I need to work on within myself, I wouldn’t be right for you.”

“And when things don’t work out between you and him? When he ends up treating you the same way? Then what?” His tone was harsh.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Toji moved you to side, a mix of confusion and anger in his voice. “Wanna say that shit again?”

“You’re telling her what she wants to hear and she’s believing it. You’re so fucking predictable, it makes me laugh,” he chuckled.

“Kento, I tried to be nice about it, but now I need you to get off my doorstep. Right now. I’m not doing this. I don’t need no one fighting at nine in the fucking morning.” You stepped between the two. “Get inside, Toji.”

“You already let him fuck you, right? That’s all he wants to keep you around for—” Your palm connected with Nanamis cheek.

“I tried explaining to you, I tried asking nicely, and you still have the audacity to speak to me like I’m not gonna do shit about it.” Your nostrils flared in anger.

“I feel bad for the kids, truly.” Barely even two seconds after those words came from his mouth, Toji pushed you aside and swung at Nanami, his fist connecting with his jaw. Nanami fell back on the floor, grunting when his back hit the ground. You didn’t dare to step in, afraid you’d accident get hurt in the process.

Toji kept swinging, taking a few hits himself but was quite literally unfazed. “Don’t ever mention my fucking kids again!” He shouted.

You anxiously looked around, your neighbors running outside to see all the commotion, a few of them already on their phones—most likely with the police. “Toji, they’re gonna call the police!” You shouted. Your words went in one ear and out the other. “For fucks sake,” you mumbled under your breath when you heard the sirens approaching in the distance. “Toji, stop already!”

The cars came to screeching halt, police running into your yard and dragging Toji off of Nanami, forcefully pushing him into the ground. “Get the fuck off me!” He yelled as they placed the cuffs around him.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you sighed deeply, running your hand over your face. Nanami stood to his feet, blood trickling from his nose and lip. Another police over came rushing over to him, asking him if he was okay.

“Ma’am, can I ask what happened here?” A police officer walked up to you.

“Um, he,” you pointed at Nanami, “came to my house this morning to have a conversation about our relationship—he’s my ex and—”

“He’s your ex?” He pointed to Nanami.

“Yes,” you nodded, watching as he scribbled down words on his notepad. “The other man, he’s my ex husband and me and him are on the verge of working things out and it’s just they both were here at the same time, and…and”

“It’s okay, take your time,” the officer assured. “So you and your ex husband are working things out…okay. Was this a jealousy thing or what?”

“Well before me and him,” you pointed at Nanami, “ended things, he said I still loved my ex husband. So he did end things and he showed up to my house this morning trying to fix it but I explained that I couldn’t personally because…you know.” Your voice was shaky.

“Okay,” the officer nodded. “Anything else.”

“He started making weird remarks. Saying thing are gonna end the same with me and him, that he only wants me for sex, and then he mentioned my kids—”

“Your kids?” The officer furrowed his brows.

“Yeah, me and my ex husband have two kids.” You pursed your lips.

“And that’s when the fight broke out?” He asked, clicking his pen. You nodded, glancing over at Nanami who was getting his nose cleaned up.

“Alright,” the officer sighed, “so we are gonna have to take both of them in for questioning, your ex husband might even end up in jail for aggravated assault since he started the fight.”

“What?! I’m sorry, but he mentioned my fucking kids! Do you have kids?!” You angrily shouted.

“I do, yes,” he responded.

“Then you should know what I’m feeling right now, what my ex husband is feeling right now. He’s talking about our relationship, about me, trying to belittle me! It’s fucking ridiculous!” You shouted, eyes wide in disbelief.

“I understand your anger, ma’am, but there’s not much I can do besides my job. I can’t just go off one side of the story. But I will keep in contact with you just in case. Name and number?” He casually asked.

“Y/n l/n, 234-567-8910.” You rolled your eyes.

“Thank you.” He walked away, getting into his car, driving off with Toji in the back of it, the others following behind shortly after.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” You stormed back in the house slamming the door shut. Your eyes landed upon the now cold and uneaten breakfast Toji had prepared for you. What a great start to your morning.

a/n: aye long time no seeee pookies!! Yes I know I made Nanami act so out of character but it’s for the plot yk lmaooo

tag list (comment to be added):

@sweetpo1son @lovebittenbyevans @ryumurin @he4rts444mi @cherrypieyourface @lemonintrovert01 @ladysi0 @avanly @chilichopsticks @tananaxx @akusrider @irlbungee @my-anime-garden @hnm-mika @antiholdinghandsclub @yharnam-prophet @crankyarchives @nnnancyr @kenqki @ebiharachan @dollcest @whoreforjjkmen @yoyio90 @jaegergirl @r0seandth0rns @blankwashed @ittomain1 @3rdmonday @5seos @weird0o0 @1-800-choke-that-ho @s-j320 @viisgrave @mayajadewrites @jhiyoon @fisherman-boat @mochimoee @cheridrwyy @olanii1019 @vi-ola666 @emmaperdoswife @sucrose-fqn @rhyies-pieces @tojislittleprincesss @sashadonat @ruixrei @zara-zara11 @paper--angel @khyok @ilyanadelarosa @zxnxy @esmedelacroix

[white-poppie]

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 ⎯⎯⎯ s.suguru x fem!reader (part 1/?)

SYNOPSIS: You were young, dumb and so in love. There was always this adrenaline rush when you and Suguru were together; harmony, romance and protection. Fate, you called it. Our youth ⎯ you cherished it. But every high ends doesn't it? When Suguru left; the sorcerer society and you, Shoko and Satoru. And you were left with the weight of more than what you could carry. Decisions of your youth, testament of your love. TW: sexual intercourse <not really explicit, but I'll tag it as smut>, Satoru and Shoko being super depressed, heartbreak, abandonment, !!mentions of teen-pregnancy and abortion!!, crying, smoking, suguru being cruel, panic attacks

Series masterlist ── Chapter 2 : Moon Child

"This is the last time." He whispers, his voice hoarse, his lips pressing against the nape of your neck. His large hands grip your waist tightly, his hot breath fanning on your skin as he looks at you, and you feel your chest tighten into knots. "I won't be able to see you again anymore." He says, deftly pulling on the hem of your top.

Your lips part, a shaky breath leaving the warm cavern. You knew this was coming. The way he was spiralling out of despair. His long lashes flutter against his cheek, eyebrows scrunched ever so slightly at the centre of his forehead. His teeth are clenched tightly, a muscle lightly feathers on his jaw. Little lilac veins bedeck the expanse of his pale neck, its a strange hue. Starting with a purple undertone it fades into a soft greenish-blue.

You gulp and remain silent as you wrap your arms around his neck. Shaky breaths, and the rustle of the sheets is the only sound that echoes with the walls of the room. You are hyperaware, as if your brain is wracking hard to absorb every single sensory detail of tonight.

Slowly, he lays you down on the bed, his large and calloused hand coming to cup your cheek, his eyes taking in the sight of you underneath him. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, a silent command for you to look him in the eye. "I hope you hate me." He whispers, his chest rising and falling quickly. "If the last thought you have of me is disgust and disdain, I could die a happy man."

You look up at him, your hand clenching the sheets as he removes your t-shirt. Your skin feels frigid under air con, cold blood washing upto your head; your throat is parched. You just wish the world would swallow me down, burn your body with lapping tongues of fire...at least then you would be warm. "I could never hate you..." you manage to croak out, your eyes blankly looking at the ceiling, anywhere but him.

"You're a fool." He whispers quietly, his mouth trailing down your neck, and you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, his fingers dancing along the lace pattern of your black brassiere. "You're so foolish," he whispers again, his other hand grabbing your thigh and pulling you closer. "To love someone and expect them to love you back."

"I know...." You whisper out, its like an invisible hand is constricting your heart. A cruel reminder that it's written in the stars to be an ominous little thing undeserving of any love from anyone.

His voice is quiet, but you can still hear his words ringing in your ears as you feel his hot breath fan over your skin as he whispers in your ear. "You should hate me for leaving you like this, you should scream and yell, you should curse my name," He says, and you feel his teeth gently biting down on your earlobe.

A muffled gasp leaves your mouth at his nibble. You look up at his eyes, a watery smile making its way on your face as he tells you to hate him. "Suguru." You whisper out so lovingly, in a worshipping way, yout eyes so full of devotion and reverence. Even when tears line your eyes, even when his words rip you apart. "Suguru, my love."

His eyes go wide at your soft whisper, and you can feel his hands tighten on your waist as he lowers his head onto your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Fuck" He whispers out his voice so heavy, you almost think he would cry. "You're so beautiful," He tells you, his voice choked up. "You're the prettiest person I've ever seen." He whispers, feverishly moving to unclasp your clothes, throwing it on the ground. His jaw trembles just a little, a shaky breath leaving his mouth.

He buries his face between your chest, fists clenching the fabric of the sheets, just inhaling sharply, you can feel the rough pads of his fingers trail up your sides. His breath is hot, his kisses searing your skin, you feel warm now. Its a given under his smouldering gaze as he looks up at you.

You can't help but whimper softly, hands weaving into his dark locks. His finds purchase on the smooth flesh of your hips, his fingers squeezing gently. "Pretty girl," he whispers under his breath as a strange sensation runs down your spine like you had walked into a lukewarm bath, the water rising till your tailbone. Its a sickly feeling.

His hand trails down, till all your clothes are discarded somewhere in the void, the corners of your eyes are blurry, you can't exactly see anything but him.

You shiver and peer at him, watching him discard his clothing. he's so pretty, you think, like some dark seraph who's wrath was a but too much for the pearly gates and so he fell down....into your bed. A sudden dread claws at your ribs. There would be other woman who would see him like this. Others who he'd use for his vendetta, but regardless they'd see him in all his glory.

His eyes a dark like pools of tar, dripping down and defiling your cherub-blood. You want to sink you teeth into his skin and rip his heart out, cradle it to your chest and never let go. You need him to be yours. Its so unfair.

He pulls you up towards him, his hands settling under your thighs as he spreads your legs on either side of him. A low grumble leaves your mouth as your eyebrows furrow. Your heart hurts in a way that makes you dizzy. Your throat runs dry with this sudden tsunami of emotions that hits your so hard that your ribs hurt.

His breathing is heavy and loud, his eyes staring down at you intently as you look up at him. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest as he moves slowly, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly it almost hurts, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You let out sharp, shaky whimpers. Trembling as your nose reddens, your heart feels like it’s breaking. You are never gonna see him again, feel him again. The world should cease to move.

He holds you close to his chest, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his breath coming out in a hot, heavy puff, fanning your skin with each passing moment.

Your hands shiver, and throat becomes so dry that its hard to breathe. You can't breathe. You can't let him go. The stoicness you had maintained to not look pathetic, to not cry in front of him when he was abandoning you. Its all crumbling down at this intimacy. This warmth has you feeling so vulnerable that you want to curl up and burrow to hide myself. A soft sob leaves your mouth as tears melt down from your eyes at the slightest bit of his warmth, breathlessly.

He freezes at the sound of your sob, his body stilling completely as he looks down at you. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear that threatens to fall. His eyes soften as he looks at you, his breathing slowing down as he gazes at you in wonder. His thumb trails across your skin and wipes another tear that threatens to fall, the look in his eyes heartbreaking as he looks at you.

And beyond that, you can't help the stream of soft sobs that you try so hard to stifle. You rest my arm over my eyes to stop looking, to stop feeling. Your shoulders tremble as all the indifference you were putting up, shatters down painfully.

His eyes go blank, and it’s as if everything comes crashing down around the two of you. He tries to stay strong, he truly does - but watching you cry like this, hearing the sounds you make as you try and hold it in, it’s almost too much. He pulls you up towards him, his arms encircling around your waist as he buries his face in your neck.

You cry out against his skin, your fingers tremble as your arms firmly wrap around him, afraid to let him go. Your stomach churns, and body burns. You want it to be a terrible dream. "Don't go." You cry out pathetically, sobbing. "Please don't go."

He stiffens, his arms tightening around your middle as he hears you say that. Your plea is like a knife in his heart, and he can’t help the way his arms tighten around you, as if trying to cling on to something that’s about to slip away. "Don’t…” He whispers out, his voice rough. “I told you… don’t make this harder than it already is," he says, his voice choked up. The pain in your voice is enough to break his heart, and he can’t help but feel utterly horrible as he holds you in his arms - but he can’t change his mind, he can’t stay with you, he can’t allow himself to get too attached to you. He already is, but he refuses to admit it, to even acknowledge the possibility of it.

And before you know it, your eyebrows furrow as you are lain back down again, a feathered gasp of pleasure and the pain that grips your heart leaves your throat.

He gasps as he looks down at you, your moans making his heart flutter with something almost akin to love. He leans forward, his face mere inches away from yours as his breath fans over your skin, and in a moment of weakness, he leans down and presses his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

And you unravel. He feels his heart ache as he looks at you, unable to stop the feelings that flood his chest, making his emotions go into overdrive. He leans down and presses his lips against your skin, kissing a trail down your neck as he whispers soft words of praise into the crook of your neck.

You pant as your eyes flutter in tiredness, hand coming to tuck the strand of his hair behind his ear. You can't sleep...you are scared to sleep. He'll dissapear.

He slumps against your body, his breathing coming out in heavy, laboured pants, his heart racing at a rapid pace in his chest. He stays like that, his fingers trailing up your back aimlessly, feeling the smooth expanse of your skin under his fingertips. For a moment, he imagines this is their life, that he could have the privilege of waking up next to you, caress your skin and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. But that can’t happen. He knows that, no matter how hard his heart is beating or how loud his mind begs him to stay.

You sniffle softly and he shifts, letting you bury face in his chest, your tears hollowing him again. He's leaving you, Satoru, Shoko...its all memories now. He has a greater purpose, he'll raise a Jujutsu only world. The world is far too cruel for people like you...its his way of protecting you.

He lays in bed for a long, long time, holding you close to his chest. He watches you for hours, his heart pounding in his ears as he listens to your breathing, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheek, the way your mouth opens just a bit when you breathe. He memorizes every inch of your face, the way you look when asleep, the way your face softens when you’re in your most vulnerable state. He looks at you for hours, before gently untangling your hand from his arm and getting out of bed.

You wake up hours later at Shoko's phone call. Your eyes fluttering as you answer her sleepily.

"Hm?"

"Y/N, Suguru's killed 152 civillians, including his parents. He's left." She says and your breath hitches. You look around the room, heart racing when you don't see him. It wasn't a dream. He was here, he left. You could've stopped this massacre from happening. You could've convinced him. You could've killed him. It was your duty as a sorcerer when you knew what he would do.

You end the call and sit like that for hours, crying and sobbing into the sheets that still smell like him, the faint trace of his cologne sticking to the sheets long after he's gone. You stay there, unable to move, unable to bring yourself to get out of bed and face the empty apartment without him in it, facing the fact that he's gone. You cry until your throat is raw, and your eyes sting, and you can only hiccup and sob quietly into the sheets. Suguru Geto is a cruel, cold-blooded murderer.

Days turn to weeks, you feel yourself get paler, wearier. It was pathetic in some way to be this despondent after a heartache, but here you were. You try to get on with your life; you, Shoko and Satoru; working as Jujutsu students during the day, but no one talks about the loneliness that claws at the three of you during the nights. No one even mentions him, its painfully obvious how the topics are shifted at the slightest mention of him...

You sigh, resting your head against the wall of the infirmary tiredly as the smell of the nicotine and smoke from Shoko's cig permeates through the room. Its nauseating.

"Shoko, can you not smoke?" you grumble in frustration and Shoko briefly glances at you, before continuing to smoke.

You take a deep shaky breath as you look at her with your eyes furrowed. "Shoko. put the cigarette down." You punctuate and she frowns but either way puts the cigarette down on the ashtray with a scoff.

"You are being a bitch right now." She scoffs as she walks towards you, leaning against the wall where you are sitting down.

"Well I am sorry if the smell is making me feel sick." You sigh, running your hands through your hair and she hums, her eyes briefly flickering to the wallpaper on your flip-phone, a picture of you and Suguru she herself had clicked on his last birthday.

"Did you eat since the morning?" she asks casually and you close your eyes, shaking your head.

"Didn't feel like it." You mutter before you feel her cool hand against your forehead, seeing if you are warm.

"I do not have a fever Suguru-- I mean Shoko." you correct yourself, but your voice dies down a whisper at your error. Her eyes soften lightly at your words and she sighs, plopping down on the floor next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for several minutes. The faint whirr of the infirmary fridge and light ticks of the wall clock being the only dominating sounds in the room.

"Have you ben sleeping?" she asks quietly and you let out a mirthless snigger.

"Can't remember the last time I did." you say and she breathes out.

"Me neither," she says, shifting her hands and resting them on her knees

"Shoko..." you croak out, gulping slightly. The sound immediately draws her attention as she whips her head towards you. "I missed my cycle..." you say and your voice wavers like a little sapling underneath a harsh storm.

Her eyes widen, slowly, gradually as it hits. She sucks a deep breath about to say something before the infirmary door opens harshly, Satoru holding two dango sticks in his hand, on the door sill.

"Yo." he says and you sigh, looking back at Shoko. Satoru's smile falters slightly as he looks at the both of you, noticing the tense atmosphere in the room. He looks at Shoko with a questioning look, his eyes then flicking over to you. Satoru had always been a brilliant observer, almost too brilliant. He frowns slightly at the way your face looks as you look at him, the look on your face making his heart feel heavy. "What's wrong?"

"I think I have kept some spare pregnancy tests in the infirmary." she says and Satoru's eyes widen he feels this strange sense of dread wash over him as he looks at you, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. "Wait...what?"

You look at Shoko get up and fetch them from the drawers. Satoru looking between the two of you anxiously. His blue eyes softened in worry.

You take the kits from Shoko and shakily gulp, looking at her as you sigh. It felt dystopian, taking a few deep breaths you walk into the washroom and follow the instructions, waiting for the three sticks to turn out.

Your breath seemed logdged in your throat. No matter how much your tried, it felt stuck. Suguru...you needed him. You needed your lover to take care of you, press you to his chest, whispering sweet-nothings. "Everything will be okay. Whatever decision you make I am going to be by your side, forever."

You gulp and look at the three sticks. Positive. All of them. Not even a single a negative one. Its always said these sticks are not a good measure for pregnancy test, but here there are all of them positive. Even if one turned out to be erroneous, the majority still said positive.

You felt your world shift in its axis...no- it stilled, completely. Your pbottom lip trembled as a soft hiccup left your throat, and as soon as that, a harsh knock rebounded on the door, making you flinch.

"Y/N?" Gojo sounded. He seemed frantic, panicked, worried. "Is everything alright?" You couldn't speak, little cries taht you tried so hard to stiffle left your mouth.

You could hear Satoru take a sharp breath outside, followed by Shoko's muffled voice. All at once he opened the door, his cerulean pupil shrunken as he looked at the three tests on the slab.

"Shit..." He gasped, his hand flying to his mouth as he hesitantly looked at you. His heart shattering at the sight of you so small, crying, shaking. Immediately he envolved his arms around you, pressing you to his chest...

"Its okay, its fine," he whispered but his own voice was shaky. Never in his life had he momentarily detested Suguru so much. He wanted to search every corner of the world, slap him and bring him back to you.

Shoko frowns slightly, her fingers clenching and unclenching at her sides. "Do you..." She hesitates for a moment, looking at you and Satoru before she continues. "Do you want to keep it?" She asks you softly, her eyes flickering down to your stomach for a moment before looking back at your face. "You know it's your choice...it's your body. No one can force you to keep it if you don't want to."

You gulp sharply, your shoulders shivering against Satoru's broad chest. Your baby, you and Suguru's baby...you couldn't possibly give it up! You were a healer, your job was to save lives! How could you give on the testament of your and Suguru's love?

"No...I am keeping them." You whisper with an anguished look, parting from Satoru.

Shoko sighs softly as she looks at you with a conflicted look on her face. She knew that deep down, that's what you were going to decide. She knew that you could never get rid of the one thing that was keeping you tied to Suguru forever. No matter how hard your heart will ache every time you look at the child growing in your stomach, the child that looks or acts like him, the one thing that can keep him in your life forever. Shoko can tell from the bittersweet look on your face: you are going to keep this baby.

Satoru's heart aches at your words, the reality of the situation crashing down on his shoulders all at once. Here you are, pregnant with Suguru's baby, and Suguru isn't going to be here to see the baby. He isn't going to be here to help you with your cravings and your hormones, or to be there by your side, holding your hand as you scream and cry during birth. He isn't going to be there to see the baby's first steps, or the first time they say 'daddy'.

You couldn't help but look back at your phone's wallpaper, only to be interjected by Satoru.

"That kid is going to know how to curse people before they even know the times table." He says with a proud grin. Shoko sighs softly at Satoru's ridiculous declaration and rolls her eyes. "I'll teach them to get on your nerves before they're even born."

You let out a shaky breath and nod, tears rolling down your eyes. It was going to be terribly hard, you know that, but the burden would be slightly less with Shoko and Satoru on your side.

"Don't cry..." Satoru murmurs, wiping your tears with his thumb, "It'll be alright, you'll be a great mom." He says, his big cerulean eyes pooling with adoration as he looks at you.

Continued.

11 months later.... ── Chapter 2 : Moon Child

- FANFICTIONS

Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged in part 2. If you wanna be added to the permanent list:  Taglist   (lmk in the comments in case you wanna be added and the link doesn't work!

Please reblog for a wider audience!!!

JJK Tags: @amplsblog , @kristinecharmm , @minnaaveira , @ange111 @dlwlrmas-world @shenz @khaleesihavilliard @webawee

@he4rts444mi , @notasaintsoul , @kunaglazer @christianacj27 @allyyyyysposts , @olanii1019 , @tamarasblogs , @sukun4scumdump @akumicchi , @omitea , @httpshujii

Tags for 'our youth': @ibukiaa, @yu22tas

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Father’s Friend! John Price Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Forbidden Romance, Age Gap, Implied Smut, Brief Descriptions of Smut, Cock Warming, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Cum Inflation, Stomach Bulging, Teasing, Older Man/Younger Reader, Pet Names, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

He tells you to keep quiet when you’re being intimate; he silences you with a sibilant “Shhh,” when your moans get too loud, telling you to “Keep your voice down, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t want your dad to walk in on his precious little angel getting fucked by his best friend.”

He’s a tease, too. “Or, maybe that’s what you want. Want me to fill you up and send you out there with your belly pumped full of me. Show em all how much you like getting speared by an older man’s cock.”

And if he finds it you’re going on a date with someone who isn’t him — WHOO, that will NOT end well for you.

He’ll bend you over the nearest sirface and pound into you. Gently enough that you can still walk after the encounter, but hard enough to remind you who you belong to.

“Can he fuck you like this?” John pants, teeth gritted and eye twitching as he feels you clenching around him, speechless. Drooling onto the cover of your bed beneath you. His hand slides up your front. Presses into your stomach. He growls as he feels himself there, his tip throbbing inside you. “D’you think he can make you feel like this?”

And when your date arrives to pick you up, he watches you walk, a hand placed over your stomach to hide the bump formed there, your thighs together pressed together to try and stop John’s semen from leaking into your underwear. And John watches you, a thin, sly smile on his face as your gaze finds his. He waves you off, knowing you’ll back. For more. For him.

For the rest of the evening, all Price can think of is you trying to go about your business knowing that you harbour a secret in your stomach; namely his cum sloshing around inside you. He can just imagine the surprise on your date’s face if you decided to get intimate with him, only for him to tear your underwear off and find you already wet with another man’s cum oozing from your hole and rolling down your thighs in thick globs.

John’s life has been a series of high-action, adrenaline-filled moments. But none of those compare to when the two of you are hiding your forbidden relationship from everyone around you.

Price’s unwavering love of cock warming has almost led to the two of you being caught multiple times; namely when you’ve been sat on John’s lap, squirming as his dick lays nestled deep inside you, only for someone to come bursting through the door, making you jump, tighten around John. He has to try and stifle the guttural growl clawing up his throat you’re squeezing — milking — him in your moment of panic.

Luckily, John’s ridiculously large desk - the one you’d often remarked he only got to comfortably fuck you on - hides what lays beneath the surface of this particularly dark and colossal iceberg. It conceals the outline of John’s cock inside you, the material of your shirt seemingly too thin for the job.

John dismisses the person who rudely interrupted you. Sure, they gave the two of you a strange look upon seeing you sat in John’s lap, but as far as that person’s concerned, that’s all it is. Flirting at most.

John’s interest in you isn’t purely sexual, though. He cares for you. Truly and utterly. You remind him of the feeling of first love — the one he never got.

He takes you out to fancy restaurants, ones far enough out of town that nobody knows who either of you are, letting you act open with each other. Hand holding, forehead touches, fingers running up your thigh, quick kisses, slow kisses, kisses that stray into dark waters.

Speaking of a hand running up your thigh; John’s classic, default move whenever you’re at a crowded event together (especially in the presence of people you know). You and John always sit beside each other, which always leads to his hand slipping beneath the tablecloth and up your leg, stopping only when he reaches the warmest spot — the inside of your thigh.

And he does this all while maintaining conversations with other people while you’re left mute and wanting.

Of course, he always delivers.

He’ll pull your underwear to the side and start toying with you. Gently, at first, his pace slow as not to attract attention. Then, when your face starts to get red and your voice is but a string of whimpers, he leans in, closely, so you can smell his cologne that charges hundreds by the drop, feel his beard tickling the side of your face, and whispers: “Don’t get yourself all worked up, Love. We’re with guests, after all.”

John will never let you cum under these circumstances. He’ll take you to a nice and isolated room and have his way with you until you’re having to lean on him for the rest of the evening, his arm about your waist and his semen pooling in your underwear. Heavy. A mistaken gesture of friendship.

If anyone ever did get suspicious of your relationship, John would tell you immediately.

“I can’t risk losing you,” he’d say, stare solemn. “We’ll have to keep our distance — just for the time being.”

God forbid you start crying, otherwise he’s on his knees, taking your hand in his and pressing long, deep kisses to your knuckles, his breath nigh-frantic and hot against your skin.

“I promise, Darling, this is only temporary.”

It would have to be, because John can’t go two minutes without thinking of you, needing you.

He sees something that’s your favourite colour in a shop window ? There you are, in the forefront of his mind.

You still interact with each other, of course, but you can’t be as close to one another as you’re used to being. As you’d like to be.

John can only watch you as you fraternise with other guests, party-goers, your father’s lawn party a hit. And yet all he can think about is having you by his side, fingers interlocked and looking down at you with all the love he’s never been able to give to anyone else.

These avoidant periods usually always end with John coming to your door and knocking profusely, his visage that of a man who’s seen nothing but ghosts all his life. And he takes you in his arms, pressing kisses to every inch of your face, leaving the two of you gasping for breath by the end of it, his eyes filled with adoration he’s never known and will only ever know for you.

Usually, you can expect a mountain of gifts to be waiting for you after your suspicion avoidance era ends - a collage of everything John collected that reminded him of you in your absence.

Some of it he purchases solely for you to wear for him and him alone, to put on a show for him. Sure, it’ll get torn off shortly after, but John can’t deny that you look like a present wrapped up just for him to unravel, to ravage.

Clothes, jewellery, accessories, shoes; he watches you wear them out and about. Something about seeing you wearing things he’s bought for you sends him feral — the fact that you’re drenched in his wealth while nobody else knows what lies beneath the surface. Beneath the layers of satin and silk and silver are the remnants of the night before. Teethmarks, bruises, scratches; the etchings of hours of pure, uninterrupted love-making. Breathless confessions, promises of a life together where you don’t have to hide your love.

Every outfit, every coat, is the disguise for many a night more.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[matchademi]

I wanna do a loving send-off for Daniel (the one he deserves) in AH, but I'm not too sure what to do for it if anyone has ideas tell me

[martinmuhl]

⋆✧˚ ༘ prove it (part 1)

pair: paige bueckers x reader

warnings: cussing, tension .. that’s it lol

summary: notorious player paige wants to take the star volleyball player out on a date

authors note: hey yall i’m actually really proud of this one!! it’s gonna be a series so i hope you enjoy it hehe

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

you were ecstatic. your team had just upset creighton in the big east volleyball conference championship. you were a standout transfer looking to be closer to family in connecticut, but also had hopes of turning the volleyball program around. these hopes obviously turned out to be successful because of this victory. your team had earned their bid to the championship tournament.

of course your teammates wanted to celebrate after this huge win, so they headed to your favorite local bar. feeling sentimental and high on adrenaline though, you wanted to stay back for a bit after the game was over. you sat alone in the front row of the stands, just thinking and taking in what had happened. you hadn’t heard the gym doors open, but a few seconds later, you heard the dribbling of a ball from across the court.

tall, built, blonde slick back bun. paige bueckers. the women’s basketball star in all her glory. just like everybody else, you thought she was insanely attractive. you had never talked to her though, she was a notorious player and probably didn’t even know who you were. sighing because your alone time was over, you got up to head to the bar.

“hey, y/n.” you heard a voice call out. turning around, it was paige, ball in hand looking straight at you.

“oh uh hi.” you replied, shocked. you couldn’t believe she knew who you were, even if you were the star of the volleyball team.

“im paige… uh i just wanted to say that you played a great game tonight. you’re really good, i was like mesmerized.” she laughed, stepping closer to you. she stood in front of you now. this was the closest you had been to her, and wow was she just as beautiful up close.

“i know who you are, paige. and thank you, i can’t believe we just won that. im surprised you’re here though, i figured you’d be at the bar celebrating.” you replied. a small blush crept onto your cheeks, but immediately went away, remembering her persona.

“i could say the same for you. i was there though, but it wasn’t my vibe.” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“the bar wasn’t your vibe? what does that even mean?” you laughed. if your team was there, it most definitely was her vibe.

she looked taken aback, cocking her head. “it means that i went there looking for the star of the volleyball team, and she wasn’t there. it means i asked around and your teammates said you were here. it means i came here deliberately hoping to run into you to ask you out.”

you were definitely flattered and you could feel your face get hot, but really? you knew exactly who she was and paige bueckers fucked. she certainly did not date. “really paige? do you remember how many of my teammates you’ve slept with? you’re not a relationship type of girl and we both know that. if you came here in hopes of fucking me, you’re out of luck.” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“y/n look, i know what my reputation is and how my past makes me look, but that’s not who i am anymore. i genuinely came here to ask you on a date. i’ve come to all of your games and ive just been too afraid to ask you before.” paige frowns, actually looking hurt by your words.

“paige, you slept with my teammate three months ago. i’m really not that convinced that you want me for the right reasons. flattered yes, but convinced no. i can’t trust that you’re not the same old player everyone knows you to be.” you say, feeling a bit bad for her, but also wanting to protect your heart. maybe she really was trying to change, but how could you be sure?

“what can i do to show you that you can trust me?” she asks, anxiously switching the ball from one hand to the other.

“one month.” you say. paige cocks her head waiting for you to finish. “one month of no sex and no other girls. if i hear that you’re sleeping around or talking to anybody else, no date. and trust me, i will hear about it. if you can go one month without that, i’ll go out with you.”

“oh bet. one month? that’s easy. i’ve been doing it for the past two anyways.” she replies, a huge smile forming on her face. you can’t help but blush, hoping she really can do it.

realizing you’ve missed so much of your teammates bar celebration already, you turn to leave. “one month. prove it, bueckers.” you walk out of the gym toward the bar. what the hell just happened?

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐱 𝐇𝐢𝐦, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐞𝐚𝐫

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Street racing, Friends to More? (You’re more in denial than he is though 😒), smoking, one (1) ass spank, EVENTUAL SMUT, car sex, brief breast play, unprotected sex, buying ice coffee as aftercare.

𝐀/𝐍: That summary is so corny lmaooo

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel’s idea of a good time: a high-speed joyride. Yours? Riding him until the sun rises

For someone who lived in the chaotic heart of Nueva York, your days were just as predictable as the last during high school.

School work, your part-time work, and family took up most of your time. Your world was one of routine and stability, with little room for the unexpected.

Then came Miguel O’Hara who tilted your world enough to knock you off balance from your usual routine with his enigmatic self.

Just like yourself, Miguel kept people at arm's length and low maintenance, most of the time. Albeit, his stoicism was what drew you into him. He didn’t pressure you into talking but he still kept you around, drawing you further into his world.

However, in moments of adrenaline, he became an ambushed thrill seeker. And things took a turn when he got into cars, more specifically street racing, which only amplified this side of him.

It started off during college years with one impulsive bet and he got addicted to the thrill pretty quickly. Soon, he developed rivalry and friendly competition with other drivers.

If it hadn’t been for Miguel, your life would’ve remained a series of quiet lonely nights with nothing much to look forward to. As a matter of fact, you would’ve never gone anywhere near a street race or anything this risky.

But after graduating college with no more academic stress to think about, going to these races has become a routine for you.

You found yourself surrounded by different cars outside an abandoned warehouse by the docks, their sleek bodies illuminated by the dim streetlights.

The air was charged with anticipation along with the guttural roads of engines as divers burned rubber. The scene was alive with energy but amidst the chaos, Miguel’s voice managed to cut through to you.

“Stop whining and just sit back, por favor.” Miguel snapped, his voice strained, as if you were pushing him to his limits. He was already behind the wheel with the window rolled down.

You’ve been begging him to sit on the passenger seat while he had been preparing for another race. But no matter how many times you asked, you were still met with the same answer.

“Those dirty benches are so uncomfortable,” you complained further. You were standing outside of his car with your hands resting on the edge of the open window.

Miguel’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, enough for the veins to bulge slightly as he turned to you.

His expression was a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Could you just listen to me?” He sighed, his voice softened but still firm. “This race is going to be shorter, so you won’t be sitting there for long anyways.”

You crossed your arms over the window frame as you leaned in, accepting defeat.

“Fine…” you huffed, still feeling salty about the uncomfortable bleachers you had to sit on. Hopefully, you could find a good spot this time around. Though, you didn’t turn to leave just yet, “Oh and by the way, is there anything I can give you if you win?”

Miguel furrowed his brow inquisitively “Why? What’s the occasion?”

You flashed your teeth in a grin that tugged on his nerves. “I’m feeling extra generous. So what do you want? And be sensible, please.”

You emphasised the last sentence with a firm tone.

He paused longer than you anticipated but you could see he was thinking. Either he was skeptical about the sudden generosity or he was coming up with an answer. “What about those tamales you made the other day again,”

“Oh uhm,” you chewed on your lower lip. That wasn’t an answer you would have imagined he would give. “I was thinking you’d ask for something more tangible,”

“Food is tangible,”

“Yeah…until you eat it and it’s gone.” You quipped. The first time you tried to make tamales, it didn’t turn out well. But Miguel still finished off his serving and gave you a positive verdict.

At the time, you assumed he was only being nice to spare your feelings. You didn’t expect him to actually like it so much that he would request for you to make it again.

Suddenly, you remembered his wish list that he saved. “What about those gloves you’ve been eyeing instead?”

He pulled a face. “You’ll get me those? No complaining that it’ll hurt your pockets?”

“Yep, I think I owe you after I accidentally broke your mug anyways,” you said, almost too eagerly. At least buying some gloves would avoid another mess in the kitchen.

“Alright, I accept. Just don’t expect me to lend you any of my stuff for a while.”

You pressed your lips together in mild annoyance before you spoke hesitantly, “…I’m gonna take a seat now,”

You turned your heels before you ascended up the stairs and took a seat on one of the bleachers. The seats were metal and you could feel it digging into you. A few people brought blankets to sit over it— you regretted not doing that.

The crowd was a mixture of seasoned racers, newcomers, and regular spectators, all feeding off the thrill of the event.

Despite being surrounded by a diverse group of people, you still felt out of place. It might stem from the fact that your sole purpose here was because of Miguel.

You weren’t too interested in the other cars or in placing bets. Hell, you weren’t that enthusiastic about racing as much as Miguel.

But regardless of that, you would still attend these events just to watch him. You kept your focus on his car, positioned perfectly for an optimal view.

It was Miguel and another driver— a 1 on 1 race. The flagger stood between the two cars with both hands raised, signaling the drivers to get ready. Your pulse quickened as you waited in anticipation, both cars revving their engines.

Finally, finally, the flagger lowered his hands and immediately both drivers slammed their foot down on the gas, launching them both forward and leaving a trail of smoke behind— almost tangible with its raw energy of the race.

The acceleration was impeccable; both cars became a blur as they sped down the road. The sound of the engines roaring and tires screeching reverberated in the open space, vibrating in your chest.

The other car was fast, but Miguel’s driving skills and raw power of his car gave him an advantage. His movements were fluid and precise as he manoeuvred each turn with unflinching accuracy.

His car was a few feet ahead of his opponent and close to the finish line. In a matter of mere seconds, his car crossed first and a chorus of cheers and screams erupted from the crowd.

You watched his car pull up to the side before he killed the engine and stepped out. Immediately you leaped to your feet and dashed towards him with exhilaration.

His adrenaline was infectious, fuelling your own excitement. You wanted to get to him first before people formed a crowd around him and share the moment of victory.

As you drew closer to him, he turned towards you. The last thing you saw was his growing smirk before you collided against his chest and wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace.

The impact knocked the winds out of him, literally, before his back hit against the hood of his car. The sudden action stunned him into momentary silence before he let out a low chuckle.

After recovering from his surprise, you felt his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer. For a while, you stayed like this, with the fabric of his clothes rubbing against your face. He wouldn’t let anyone else do this and you knew that.

“Not gonna say anything?” He teased, still having his arms around you. “And here I thought you’d be excited for me,”

“My ass hurts,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Uh huh. That’s what you’re complaining about?” You felt one of his hands reach lower to smack your rear in retaliation. “Not gonna congratulate me for winning?”

“Oh yeah…that too hmm.” You said in feigned disinterest just to prod him further. You could sense that he was amused by your obvious acting. He loosened his grip on you slightly, just enough to look down at you with a growing smile.

“I just won that race, you know?” There was no hint of annoyance or anger in his tone as he said that. He was mirroring your unserious attitude.

“So I guess I’ll be getting you those gloves now,”

“That also means you’ll be dishing out your wallet for me,”

“That’s not an issue. I think I’m more financially sensible than you are,”

“Sure…it better be a good brand and not some cheap gas station ones,” he remarked as he opened the door and stepped back inside his car.

You followed suit and hopped onto the passenger’s side. “What kind of woman do you take me for?”

“The kind that probably won’t get me the brand I want.” He started the car and pulled out of the edge. “Just be glad it’s gloves instead of something actually expensive.”

He drove further away from the crowd of people until you reached a more quiet side of the docks. He killed off the engine before he reached over to his jacket pocket.

He pulled out the last cigarette packet, but the moment he put it between his lips, you reached over and grabbed it. Fortunately, he wasn’t holding it with his teeth, so you managed to take the stick out of his mouth before crumpling the paper between your fingers.

“Aye— what the shock was that for? I was gonna smoke that,” he scowled. snapping his head to glare at you.

“I know,” you rubbed the tobacco grit between your fingers before it landed on his lap.

“And I don’t even have a new pack on me,” he huffed out in irritation before leaning back against his seat to sulk for a moment.

You were going to say he looked like a child right now, but you decided to spare him the teasing after the mess you made on his lap.

“Good, I don’t want to stain my hands again,” you said, looking at your soiled fingers before rubbing them clean on your clothes.

“You really are a pain in the ass sometimes…”

“Yeah? You’re lucky I didn’t use a water gun this time,”

His muscles tensed at the reminder, like he had just been pricked by a thorn. The colour drained from his face, his annoyance giving way to his dread as he recalled the last time you doused him with a water gun after he tried to light a cigarette.

“Please don’t use that thing on me again,” he shuddered, you could almost see the flashback behind his eyes he remembered how soaked his clothes were that day.

After you both graduated from college, Miguel developed a habit of smoking. You didn’t know if he picked it up from someone else’s influence or if it was from stress.

At first, you didn’t think much of it until you saw how many sticks he would smoke a day. From that point on, you made it your mission to get him out of his habit before he fell further into the addiction rabbit hole.

“Well, I don’t need to now, but I got this just in case,” you reached for your own jacket pocket and pulled out a mini water gun toy. You could see from the clear plastic that it was filled to the brim.

Miguel’s face fell further at the sight. “Oh my God. Where did you get that from?”

“There was a small kiosk selling these toys,”

“Okay. Okay I won’t smoke anymore. Just put that thing away…”

You aimed for his neck and pressed on the trigger to spray the water. The water pressure force wasn’t as strong as the bigger water guns you had back at home, but it still did the job.

Miguel jolted at the sudden spray. He rubbed his neck that was now wet. “I just said I won’t smoke, why would you spray me?”

“That was a warning,” you replied, the soft sound of the water sloshing inside added to your taunt.

“Dios…At least give me the water gun before I deck you,” he extended his hands out to reach for the water gun so he wouldn’t get sprayed again.

But you knew better and pulled your hand away so the toy was out of his reach.

“Yeah…I’m not falling for that,” you knew that if you handed it over, he’d likely use it against you until it was empty.

“Do you really have to act like a parent with my smoking habits?” He groaned, still annoyed about being sprayed.

“You know that no one else will have the patience to do this,”

“Siii, but you’re so annoying when you do it,”

Something struck you at that moment, maybe it was realisation or an awakening. The moisture in your mouth dried instantly and your voice dropped to a more serious tone. “One day you’ll miss me doing it when I’m not around anymore,”

His face warped, like he had just tasted bile. “¿De qué estás hablando?

“You know we won’t be this close when you settle down,”

You knew he wouldn’t be this free-spirited once he tied the knot with somebody. It was why you never held your tongue and always tried to savour every moment with him, making each one memorable while keeping him on his toes, so you’d have no regrets.

But at the same time, you kept a lingering guard up and braced yourself because at any given moment, he will drift away from your life without even realising, leaving you stuck in a cycle of longing.

Miguel scoffed at your words. “Like I’d ever be in a relationship, and I’m perfectly happy with that,”

You rolled your eyes, not convinced in the slightest. “That’s a lie,”

“What are you talking about? You know I don’t want to be tied down to some prissy girl that’ll just nag at me all the time,”

A romantic relationship with Miguel never really crossed your mind but as you listened to his words, you found yourself slipping into a dangerous territory of what-if’s.

Being friends with Miguel was like standing in front of an unmasked door, behind which lay different shelves that were locked up with different keys, all revealing different sides to him.

You’ve known Miguel for a long time and you got to witness many of those sides; his pressure-cooker moments, his happiest times, and even his vulnerable self, despite his hard exterior.

So it was only natural for you to be curious on how he might behave as a life partner. Would there be a completely different demeanor that you’ve never seen in him before?

You couldn’t recall him flirting with any girls either even though he had slept with some. It was hard to imagine, but you had to ask.

“Hypothetically speaking, what if that prissy girl was me?”

His expression changed with shocking duality, you almost didn’t recognise this side of Miguel. You couldn’t pinpoint where your words had struck him the most, his heart or his head. But you could definitely see how conflicting he was.

“You…you don’t know what you’re saying. How would I even respond to a question like that?” His voice almost slipped as he spoke.

Maybe the question was too broad, so you took a more direct approach. “Okay, simple question: would you tie me down if you had the chance?”

He let out a sigh before his lips formed a tired smile. “You’re not giving me any options to avoid this, huh? Always looking for the upper hand.”

What was that supposed to mean? He was avoiding a direct answer, for sure.

“No, just curious…”

“Yeah, I probably would…” he finally admitted. You would think you would be surprised by his answer, given his closed off behaviour and his reluctance to any intimate connections, but you weren’t.

“Why’s that?” You asked.

“Probably because you’re the only one that stuck around when no one else did. You don’t get super clingy, and yet, you somehow manage to piss me off.” He sighed, you almost didn’t catch his lips curled up. “But despite that, I still find it endearing. Maybe I like having you around me more than I let on,”

You were taken back by his statement. You've never heard him talk about you like that before. Sure, he had reiterated multiple times that you’d piss him off in the past, but this time it sounded almost…affectionate, in his own gruff way.

But you didn’t want to look too surprised so you masked the effects of his words with a joke. “Ohhh, was it the water gun?”

“Could you shut up about the water gun for five minutes?” He seethed through his teeth, exasperated.

He turned his head away and from the reflection of the side mirror, you could see him squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Seeing Miguel annoyed like this was one of the things you were used to witnessing from him. But right now, you couldn’t help but notice that he was holding something back.

Maybe it was because he had just confessed that he would date you and he was pissed off that you coaxed that information out of him. You couldn’t tell.

But you didn’t expect him to turn in his seat and pull you into a firm, almost desperate hug. You could feel his breath fan against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

You wrapped your arms around his form and patted his back, a gesture that felt intimate and oddly routine. You knew that initiating an embrace like this was outside of his comfort zone, and yet he still melted under your touch.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured softly.

Miguel’s grip on you tightened in response to your words before he pulled away to look at you, his eyes searching your face. “Cállate y bésame entonces.”

You tilted your head and you couldn’t hold back a witty remark when you said “Just a peck?”

Miguel didn’t say anything at that, instead he gave you a low scowl before his lips connected with yours with a quiet intensity. The kiss was neither hesitant nor overly passionate but something in between— like testing the waters.

Everything was deliberate from the way he pulled you closer to his hands sliding up to cradle your face. His touch kept you grounded in the moment.

You were grateful the kiss was kept at a controlled pace rather than it being more sensual— or you would’ve lost your senses.

The kiss broke naturally and left you both breathless. Miguel’s forehead rested against yours while still holding your face.

“Move to the backseat,” his order came out as a rough whisper. However you were still dazed from the kiss that you didn’t pick up what he said at first.

“What?”

“The back,” It took a moment for his words to fully register in your head. Once you clocked on what was happening, you felt your adrenaline spike.

Though you couldn’t bring yourself to question it further since you were more focused on the uncomfortable position you were in with your body still being twisted to face him.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice, before you shifted out of the passenger seat. Everything felt more electric as you opened the back door and both slid inside.

You slipped off your jacket and placed it on the seat beside you before you felt Miguel’s hands on your hips. He guided you onto his lap so you were straddling him and facing him directly.

The backseat offered more room and allowed more natural closeness.

“You know,” you began, trying to put some levity into the moment, “this is a bit dramatic, even for you.”

Miguel gave you a blank look, unamused by your comment. “Coming from someone who carries a water gun in their pocket,”

Before you could retaliate to his words, he pressed his lips on yours again. With the current position he had over you, he could deepen the kiss just by tilting his head so his lips locked in firmly.

You couldn’t help but lace your fingers through his locks as he kept kissing you. His hands hike up under your shirt, resting his hands over your bare waist and pulling you closer to him. You shivered at his touch.

He pulled away to look at you with caution. “May I?”

Out of instinct, you nodded mutely

He lifted your shirt up higher, pushing both sleeves over your shoulders but didn’t take it off all the way. Instead he let it hang around your neck, too desperate to touch you further to finish the job.

You were expecting him to yank your bra off. But instead, he pulled each cup down gently, gradually exposing each breast. It was a pleasant surprise given that you were accustomed to rough treatment from previous partners.

But experiencing a different side, specifically from Miguel, evoked a feeling that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. A fluttering sensation took flight in your stomach before you felt a slickness in your panties.

Were you seriously getting this turned on by his gentle touch? The thought almost sounded absurd, yet the soft caress of his fingers made your heart race in ways you hadn't expected.

He pulled you forward into him again and buried his face into your chest. You felt his hand slide over your back to unhook the bra clasp and allowed it to slip off. He peppered wet kisses over each breast.

You gasped when you felt his tongue flickered over the stiff nipple, arching your back further into his mouth. To add onto the mounted pleasure, he started grinding up against you so you could feel his hard on beneath you.

You pulled yourself away so he could fumble with his jeans and pull the flier down. The scene folding in front of you was making your head spin as he managed to get his pants fully off before he looked back up at you.

You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head right now but judging by his heavy breathing and how staggering his movements were, it was safe to say that he was as much of a mess as you were.

You pulled your own pants along with your soaked undies before you shifted closer and hovered over his throbbing cock.

Sinking yourself lower, you felt yourself burn up as you stretched out to accommodate his thickness. Miguel’s head hit the back of his seat with a shaky groan. Your silky walls were pulling him deeper eagerly until you felt his balls clench with your ass.

“Guide me ... I've never done this before,” You didn’t know why you didn’t say anything beforehand, but the feeling of him buried deep inside you made you quickly realise how real this moment was.

You noticed the flicker of surprise in his eyes before it quickly vanished. You weren’t a virgin. You’ve both had your fair share of experiences with your separate partners. But you’ve never topped anyone like this— especially in a car

“Okay…just relax and…start lifting your hips and then drop back down,” there was a startling shift in his tone to something more tender yet raw.

Hearing him talk you through it made you wonder how often he had done this in his car. But you forced yourself to dismiss the thought further before you opened the door to jealousy. You never had room for that and you weren’t going to start now.

You lifted yourself up, but not too high that he would slip out, before you dropped back down. He was reaching your deepest heat and feeling the friction from his dick in this position was dizzying.

Immediately, a breathless groan erupted from his throat and his grip on your hips tightened. He had to gather himself before he spoke again.

“Good…just do that again,” his approval went straight into your head but you managed to keep yourself controlled.

You repeated the same action until you were fully accommodated to his dick inside you and found a rhythm you were comfortable with.

You wanted to savour every moment and feel the pleasure you were taking from him. As you kept rocking your hips, both your moans and labored breaths filled the car.

“Is this okay?” You breathed, as if the noises he was making right now weren't obvious enough.

“Sí. Just like that,” he struggled to spatter out as you kept moving.

You tried to control your breathing, focusing on keeping a steady pace with your hips rather than the overwhelming desire pooling in your stomach.

Everytime he would utter more words of encouragement, it sent a shiver down your spine, making it increasingly difficult to maintain your composure.

His eyes seemed to linger onto yours longer than what you were used to and it made your heart stutter. You didn’t like the effect he was having on you just by his eye contact alone so tried to block it out by dropping your gaze to where your bodies were connected.

That only did you a disservice, however, because now all you could think about was his confession from earlier with his words replaying over and over in your head.

A sharp gasp slipped out from you when you felt him piston his hips up against you in sync with your pace. The sudden thrust from him caught you off guard and almost lost your grip.

He picked up on your reaction and stopped immediately, rubbing your hips apologetically. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

You wouldn’t say it hurt you but the sensation definitely felt like a jolt. “No no, you just caught me by surprise. Could you do that again?”

You could sense something inside of him snap before he reacted to your words immediately. He jerked his hips up against you and began a somewhat controlled pattern. But he didn’t let his desires overwhelm him at the expense of your comfort.

No matter how attentive he was to you and your needs, you couldn’t bring yourself to lean into his touches for too long, afraid that you’d get too attached.

Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to give in and let your emotions take over. Yet, a small part of you grappled with caution, afraid of losing control and ending up getting hurt.

Soon, you couldn’t keep up with his pace but his hip thrusts alone were enough to give you the friction that you needed from his cock.

You buckled against him with each thrust, sending your body into a frenzy. You could feel yourself losing control and letting him do the work.

You’ve never felt anything like this before. Blood was rushing to your ears, thumbing in sync with your pulse, making it hard to think. Maybe it was the lack of ventilation in the car, or the confined space combined with both your laboured breaths.

No that can’t be it, you thought. The heat spread through your body was too intense to be explained away so easily.

Miguel, what have you done to me?

You were going to ask Miguel to slow down or maybe ask why you were feeling this way but all that could come out of you were desperate whines.

As your body moved on its own, reacting to the sensation you couldn’t quite place, a moment of clarity hit you like a wave. All the thoughts and emotions that you’ve been pushing away tonight came crashing down with an undeniable force.

That was when you realised that taking a step further with your relationship with Miguel didn’t sound so bad. You could come around to the idea of having him as more than a friend. It was risky but it didn’t have to be complicated.

Maybe you could do more than just test the waters with Miguel. As your climax built, it wasn’t just a physical release. It was an emotional awakening.

“Don’t hold back,” his words were direct but enough to coax you further. “That’s it, let me hear you,”

The moment you felt yourself contract around him, Miguel pulled your face in and latched his lips onto yours almost desperately.

That was enough to fully tip you over the edge. The tension that had been knotting in your stomach finally snapped as you reached your climax.

Your body shuddered and arched against him as you felt yourself unravel. Your body slumped onto his chest from exhaustion.

Miguel gasped, giving one last jerky thrust upwards before he reached his own peak, filling you with his hot release. His broken moans almost came out as a whimper as he buried his face into your neck.

He lifted you off his cock, almost reluctantly, before you both came down from your high. The stretch from his dick was still present, even after pulling out. You definitely were going to be sore for a while.

The car was starting to feel stuffy now with the limited space and the intensity of the moment in the car.

Miguel broke the silence, his words wrapped with vulnerability, “Don’t ever leave me,”

There was a foreign warmth that spread across your chest but instead of masking it, you caved into it. “Wouldn’t dream of it,”

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead, something you never thought you would do. But the tranquility of the afterglow didn’t last long when Miguel’s hand subtly slipped into your jacket pocket, where you kept your water gun.

Without breaking eye contact, he retrieved the toy, with so much stealth, you barely registered what was going on. By the time you realised, your reaction time was too late.

Miguel had already aimed the water gun at you. Your eyes widened in shock and a sudden burst of adrenaline surged through you, triggering your flight or fight.

“Ay ay ay!” You exclaimed before you were sprayed on the neck. The smugness from him was almost palpable now as he kept spraying you.

“That’s what you get for surprising me while I was smoking,” he gave a wolfish grin.

You squirmed beneath him, trying to avoid the spray of the water tickling your neck, but his aim was relentless.

“¡No es divertido cuando el uno que no se divierte eres tú, eh?" He taunted, echoing your earlier words.

“Okay okay I got it—” you yelped. The spray halted abruptly, and you quickly wiped your neck.

When you turned to look at him, you saw the water gun was now spattering, nearly empty. You couldn't help but snicker. “That doesn’t hold a lot of water, you know.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed the toy aside. He shifted in his seat under you as he was becoming uncomfortable.

“I need to get out of this car,” he muttered.

Oh.

You took this as a hint to climb off his lap to adjust your bra before pulling your shirt and pants on. He did the same, getting himself fully situated again then reaching over to open the door.

You were immediately overwhelmed with the crisp breeze against your flushed skin. You took a few deep breaths, taking in the fresh air.

The dock was desserted now with the crowd from earlier long gone, the only evidence from the event were the tire tracks on the floor.

Stepping outside made it easier to clear your head and think straight. Looking at Miguel, you realised those moments of excitement and fondness towards him weren’t just from the height of pleasure, but they were anchored in something deeper.

Your heart started raced as you watched Miguel, who was leaning on the car door silently. His hand hovered over his mouth absentmindedly, an old habit as a smoker.

You sucked in the air between your teeth before you spoke. “What are you thinking about?”

He hummed before leaning in closer to you. “You…and how annoying you are…”

You frowned. “I’m serious,”

“Oh well…” he started, his eyes still on you before they dropped to the ground. “I was just thinking how unfair it is that you made me feel so good and then you shut it off while I have to deal with the aftermath,”

You felt a chill thread down your spine. “What makes you think that?”

“You don’t seem affected by this like I am, you just got out of the car like it was nothing,”

Yikes.

You hadn’t realised how nonchalant you must’ve looked while you were in deep thought after getting out the car. You swallowed dryly and opened your mouth to speak before the situation was blown out of proportion.

“Well you’re wrong…and that’s not the post-sex talking.” It felt cathartic saying that out loud, almost like the words solidified your feelings.

“Dios…” he muttered to himself, his face flushed with embarrassment. It was ironic having him be more emotionally exposed than you were right now. He looked back at you with a sheepish expression, his voice sounding slightly nervous now, “So you feel the same? You’re affected by it as well?”

You scoffed at his obliviousness, but you couldn’t blame him. You hadn’t exactly been explicit with your feelings. “Yeah, you really had an influence on me,”

Miguel turned his face away to conceal his bashfulness, but you could see it clearly. It was refreshing and this tender side of him would be a memory you’d keep locked in your head. “You…can’t say stuff like that and expect me to stay calm,”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. “Well, we don’t have to figure it out now,”

You looked out into the horizon and noticed a glow from afar. “The sun is rising,” you said. “Do you wanna get some ice coffee?”

Miguel looked at your kind of sight before he turned to you. “Yeah, I think we both need it after…that,”

He pushed himself off the car, took your hand, and lead you to the passenger side. Once you were in, he took his seat behind the wheel.

Miguel started up the car before driving off, leaving the dock side and heading into the awakening city. The ride was quiet now, with the newfound tenderness that hung in the air as you tried to locate the nearest coffee shop before the rush hour began.

Maybe you could discuss things properly after some caffeine.

This fic is literally the embodiment of Shut Up and Drive by Rihanna

Water gun inspired by this vine

[curlycow01]

Only you

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You and the Winter soldier escape hydra together, and feelings for each other are revealed along the way

Meanings: солдат - soldier

Series Masterlist

Read part 2 here

Out of all the test subjects Hydra gave the serum to, only you survive. You and Soldat were the perfect soldiers of Hydra, their greatest weapons. They brainwash you both, but they overdo yours, and break your mind, making you forget all the memories pre serum, the life you previously had.

Hydra sends you both on missions to assassinate high level targets and you both end up saving each other's lives a lot of times, creating this weird dynamic. Even through the fragments of your mind, you seek the Soldat's presence, his powerful stance and intimidating silence, drawing you to him as your only sense of comfort.

No matter how many times Hydra wipes his memories, his feelings for you don't go away. When he realizes he cares about you, he's determined to find a way to save you.

Decades pass and one day Soldat returns from a mission. Looks like he didn't complete it as his metal arm had sustained heavy internal damage. He seems a bit off as you observe him from a corner. Alexander Pierce enters the room and asks him for the mission report.

The soldat doesn't reply, lost in thought. Pierce hits him on the face, the sound echoing through the room. You feel a flash of anger. "The man on the bridge" he says quietly to pierce, his face having a genuine expression of curiosity. "Who was he?"

"You met him earlier this week on another assignment." Pierce answers. "I knew him" Soldst's voice had a hint of faraway recognition. Pierce is clearly not happy. "Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time." he takes a small pause. "If you don't do your part I can't do mine, and Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves.

The Soldat's face was sad, he pressed his lips for a second before speaking in a defeated tone "But I knew him" Pierce sighs in frustration and gets up from the chair. He looks at him for a moment before turning to the scientists "Prep him" One of them spoke up "But he's been out of cryo freeze too long." "Then wipe him and start over" Pierce answers.

Your heart skips a beat as you hear those words. Pierce leaves. the scientist push Soldat back in the chair. Machines attach themselves onto his head, cackling with electricity.

You grip the railing tightly as his horrific screams echoed through the room, his naked chest heaving with heavy breathing. Guards come and escort you elsewhere, but his screams were still ringing through your ears.

Hours later

You opened your eyes and stepped out of the cryo freeze, to see the scientists panicking and few armed guards shuffling around uncomfortably.

The head Doctor spoke up "This doesn't change anything. We still have one supersoldier left. The Asset's failure, though frustrating, is not a complete disaster. Captain America is dead. The collision of the helicarriers killed both of them."

Your blood runs cold as the sentence sinks in. A small gasp escapes your lips at the fact that he's gone. He couldn't be, you didn't want to believe it. The Doctor notices your gasp and turns to you with a darkened expression. "Look at this" he says in a mocking tone "You've grown feelings for him, have you?" he scoffs " Having emotions makes you weak. We've lost the Soldat, but we can still use you, make you the next perfect soldier"

You're frozen in place as the Doctor reveals the truth. "Wipe her" he commands the guards in an emotionless voice. You're still rooted to the ground as the guards approach you. They roughly push you into the chair and lock restraints around your wrists.

Your heart is thundering in your chest as the electrocuting machines on either side of your head are switched on with a small hum of electricity. Adrenaline courses through your veins as the contraption starts coming close to you. You shut your eyes tightly, bracing for the pain.

You feel the cool metal closing around your head for a second, then a huge wave of blinding pain shoots through you, it's like the voltage of an electric chair dialed up to 11. Your cries of pain fall on deaf ears, and you barely survive the first wave. Tears streak down your cheeks as you waited for the second wave. But it never comes.

You slowly open your eyes, still blurry with tears. You can't hear much due to the ringing in your ears, but you can make out that the machine's stopped. A loud crash breaks through the ringing, and you try to blink away the tears to see what's going on.

You see the soldat plowing through the guards and the terrified scientists. The way he was landing his punches was in pure rage, nothing like you've ever seen him before. You try to move, but you were tightly bound by the restraints. Your breathing was still ragged, the first wave left you with little energy.

Gentle fingers brush against your cheek, you snap your head from the restraints to see your savior. "солдат?" your voice is low and hoarse as you gaze into his piercing blue eyes, which were laced with concern. "Bucky" he says as he starts freeing you from the restraints.

You try to stand, but your knees were wobbly, Bucky swiftly grabs your arm to steady you. His eyes scan you for any other injuries. "I should have gotten here sooner" he says grimly, his hand wrapped around yours protectively. "They said that you died" you say slowly, looking up at him "They said the crash killed you, but you survived. Why didn't you run?"

"I couldn't leave" Bucky answers, his gaze softening as he continues "Not without you. Not when you were still trapped." His metal arm reached up and brushed some hair that had fallen over your face, this action made your stomach flip. The atmosphere between you two changed.

"So, uh" you say awkwardly, breaking the silence "Where do we go now?" "I have a place in Romania. We should be safe there." He answers.

"Great" You're trying to sound like you're okay, even though you were anything but okay on the inside, all of these emotions swirling inside of you. He could never know you think he'll never feel the same

You started walking to the exit, but Bucky caught your arm. You turned to him "Aren't we leaving?" He took a deep breath before speaking "Before I killed the Doctor, he said that you had grown attached to me and" he paused for a moment and blinked slowly "that you had feelings for me"

Your breath slightly hitched as he finally learnt your secret. "He also tried to insult you, but I snapped his neck before he could finish the sentence" Bucky takes a step closer to you. "Is that true? That- that you have feelings for me?" he asks slowly. You only nodded, not knowing what to say.

"How long?" As you're thinking what to say, you suddenly realize that he's standing close to you, his lips only inches away. how you would love to- woah. Wait a minute. You snap out of your thoughts and rasp out "A while"

His flesh hand reached out and lightly traced your jaw with his fingers "Why didn't you say anything? he asks softly. You hesitated for a moment "I- I thought you didn't feel the same, because hydra removed emotions-" "Hydra couldn't take away this." He interrupted. His hand stilled and pulled away from your jaw. "They couldn't take you away from me. They didn't change the way I feel about you."

His metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Before you could realize what's happening. his lips were on yours. Your lips perfectly molded his, moving in sync. His other hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

His muscular frame covered you completely as his tongue brushed against your lip, silently asking for entry. You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. His tongue danced against yours as his hand moved through your hair.

You both pulled away after a few moments for air. Bucky's metal arm was tracing circles on your hip. "I'll never let them hurt you again" He whispers "I'll always keep you safe." He looks at you with utmost love and affection in his sky-blue eyes.

"Do you think we can make this work?" You whisper back, taking his hand in your own "The world won't accept this. They won't accept us. "Screw the world" Bucky replies firmly and squeezes your hand in reassurance "I don't care about the world, what they say or want, I don't." He intertwines his fingers with yours.

"I only care about you"

[longing-for-the-past-times]

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - five.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 9k (as you will see, a lot of stuff happens)

synopsis: When the mission goes south and you end up in the hands of the enemy, Ghost finds himself alone and angry, reflecting on what your presence actually means to him.

warnings: violence, graphic descriptions of torture, occasional swearing, mentions of smoking, hurt/comfort, slight happy-ending, Ghost being angry and tortured by his inner demons, military inaccuracies

notes: So this is it - the finale of a series that was initially meant to be a one shot consisting of several random fluff-filled scenes. I am actually quite satisfied with how the story turned out, although I have to warn you that this chapter is longer than usual because it consists of several pure narrative parts (background descriptions and such).

If you need therapy after reading this, just dm me the bills and I'll work something out :)

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

five.

To say Ghost was angry would have been an understatement. He was fuming, his heavy breathing being the only sound that filled the now-silent room. Even after half an hour had passed, the burning feeling in his chest did not fade away, serving instead as a reminder of his helplessness. He was angry at Laswell for pairing you up with the younger sniper team. He was furious with Price for his decision to not go after you the moment your radio stopped working...

But in the end, he was livid with himself for not being there to protect you in the first place.

He couldn’t shake the guilt that ate him from inside like a parasite, and as the seconds turned into minutes which would be bound to turn into hours, he felt the weight of his inaction suffocating him like he was the one under torture. Clenching his jaw, he began to stomp around the living room of the safe house. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife and, as he felt the concerned looks of the others on him, Ghost couldn’t help but replay the events of the past 36 hours in his mind.

He felt he had failed you when it mattered most, but he was determined to set things straight and bring you back unharmed.

Or at least alive and breathing.

--- 28 hours earlier

The sky was painted in golden hues by the time you left the briefing room, the morning air being a cold, yet comforting sensation that welcomed you when you got out of the main base building. Your mind was reeling with a plethora of classified intelligence and even more questions, but at least your adrenaline levels were high enough to chase any remnants of sleep away.

It had been almost a day since you left your apartment, but you weren't in a rush to go back. You would have to pack for the next mission anyway, and the given approximation of "an undefined amount of time" was an additional reason to delay the task. Instead, you went to the only place where you knew you'd find Ghost at this hour: the unofficial smoking spot of the base, named after the lack of security cameras in the area.

And there he was, perched on a plastic chair that made him look comically big and threatened to barely hold his weight. His mask was raised to his nose, highlighting a prominent jawline, peppered with faint scars and a hint of blonde stubble. Involuntarily, your eyes focused on his plump lips and the way they were wrapped around the cigarette, its burning tip glowing orange with each drag he took. His eyes were focused on a random point on the ground, but you knew he had heard you coming- his body had unconsciously shifted towards you, his legs adopting an open stance, almost as if to greet you.

"Thought you said you'd quit", you teased him in a soft tone, dragging a chair and sitting next to him. You opened your mouth to add something but were taken aback when you saw his lips curl up in a gentle smile, accompanied by a weak laugh.

There was no humour in it, but that did not stop you from relishing in the rare sight of Ghost's grin, your eyes once again focusing on the faint scar that rested on his lower lip. You didn't know the story behind it, nobody but Price did, yet that didn't stop you, Soap and Gaz to come up with scenarios of your own, one less likely than another.

"You're staring!", he remarked in a gravelly tone, blowing out a huff of smoke.

You knew it was wrong, but you secretly enjoyed second-hand smoking when he was around. He was too stubborn to let you try one of his cigarettes, always arguing about the negative impact on your health, but it was not like he could forbid you from keeping him company. The traces of smoke in his scent were an integral part of him and sometimes you just couldn't get enough of it, your lungs always begging for more.

"I'm not!", you eventually countered, taking a deep breath in. "And you did not answer the question!"

"It wasn't a question!", he argued back with a serious expression, his lips now forming a straight line.

"You know what I mean!"

You also knew that the banter you two had going on was meant to keep him away from the edge that would send Simon away and bring back Ghost. You'd already seen glimpses of him back in the briefing room when Laswell brought you up to date on the details of the mission. Just as you were witnessing Simon now, smoking half a pack of cigarettes in a desperate attempt to keep the deadly persona of the 141 Lieutenant away for as long as possible.

"Can I try one?", you went on with the distraction, already knowing his answer.

"No." - his answer was definitive, his clipped tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Huffing in annoyance, you crossed your arms over your chest and furrowed your brow, slightly scrunching your nose. He did not seem to be fazed by your childish outburst and instead, inhaled deeply, cheeks hollowing as he drew in the smoke. The exhale came shortly after, grey tendrils of smoke escaping his parted lips before he decided to speak again:

"Wanna hear something funny?"

You were already aware of Ghost's penchant for what he called "dad jokes", but what actually were just really bad puns, although, with him, they often had the tendency to turn out darker than expected. That was why you had to carefully pick your answer because you did not want to have Ghost on the bad side before going into mission - either because you refused to listen to a pun, or because of your reaction to it.

"I'm really not sure…", you shook your head, struggling to avoid eye contact.

As expected, he went on regardless of your answer.

"What do you call cigarettes you find in a thrift shop?"

A faint smirk was profiling on his lips again as he was clearly waiting for your reaction before delivering the pun.

"Go on, tell me", you eventually nudged him, rolling your eyes in fake pretence.

"Second hand smokes."

You struggled to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread on your face, but eventually, you ended up looking to the ground and shaking your head in defeat. Another low chuckle was heard from Simon, yet when you looked back at him, the cigarette butt was already in the ashtray and his balaclava was back on. You let out a deep sigh, your lips forming a pout, but you accepted his extended hand, allowing him to lift you from the chair.

"Come on, I'll drive you home. Price said the plane leaves at 1300 hours which leaves us with… exactly 6 hours and 45 minutes to get our things in order."

"Can't wait for it!", you let out an ironic huff, a shiver going down your spine upon hearing a hushed laugh in reply.

You and Ghost were in a good place. You could only hope this would last.

---

"Sergeant L/N, these are Privates Reynolds and Jones! They will be accompanying you on this mission as a sniper, respectively a spotter!"

From the instant you set eyes on him, you knew Captain Price had chosen the tarmac to make the introduction with a firm reason in mind. Perhaps it was the thunderous roar of the engines or the massive air currents caused by the propellers of the military aircraft you were about to board, but you could tell the atmosphere was intimidating enough for the two young men that they could only hold your gaze for so long before nodding their heads in acknowledgement.

"This is Sergeant L/N and she is going to be your mentor and leader for the duration of this mission", Price went on, his tone mercilessly cold.

The previous night he'd been a friendly face, "the dad of the group", as you drunkenly mentioned him in the toast, but that day he was the Captain of one of the most lethal Task forces there had been. And with that position came no room for mistakes or second thoughts.

"You will listen to her, no matter the situation. She tells you to shoot, you shoot. She tells you to hide, you hide. Hell, she tells you to come out and surrender, you do just that if you want to come home in one piece and not in a body bag!"

And he had a tendency to be slightly dramatic sometimes. Yet it was well-intended: you could only remember the "pep-talk" he'd given you before your first mission, after having placed you in the care of one of the most deadly operators you've ever seen, also known to others as "the big boy with a skull face"; that mission had gone sideways minutes after it had begun and you ended up saving yourself and the Lieutenant twice just by being high on energizers and adrenaline.

You and Ghost did not talk about that.

"Good to meet you, boys!", you shook their hands with a firm grip before nodding them into the direction of the aircraft. "You should go and buckle up. I'll be joining you soon!"

"Yes ma'am!", they answered in unison, shooting each other a cryptic look before heading in the direction of the plane.

You and Price caught that, but before being able to talk about it, you were interrupted by the big boy with the skull face himself:

"Those are the boys Y/N's supposed to be babysitting?"

Ghost was not one to mince words, even on a good day. Perhaps, at one point in the past, he had simply decided that hiding behind a wall of well-chosen words was not worth it, or he simply preferred to make himself understood from the beginning. And when opposing something, as he was at that moment, he did not bother to hide it:

"You're lucky they're not in your care!", you decided to steer the conversation in another direction. "I don't know where Laswell found them, but I bet at least one's dad has stars on his shoulders!"

Neither you, nor Ghost liked Price's lingering silence, but you didn't show it. You trusted Kate well enough to know she would have ensured they posed no real threat to your safety and the mission's success before having them join you on the field.

What actually bothered you was that it all happened on such short notice. You barely had time to bounce back from the previous assignment before having to start a new, high-risk, high-stakes one. You were aware of your limits and confident enough that you could pull this one off - but having to look after another two people you met a couple of hours before going into the field? Sure, you knew your limits, but did they know theirs?

"Stop it! Get it out of your mind, now!"

Ghost's deep Manchester accent pulled you out of your head and back into the present moment. You shot him what was meant to be a reassuring look, unaware that you actually looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It took you a moment to realise Price had left, leaving you two alone on the tarmac.

"They do anything you don't like, they act fishy - you report directly to me!"

He took a step forward, the tac vests you'd fastened on your bodies almost making contact. You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the tremor that coursed through you and raised your eyes to take a better look at the skull plate, firmly attached to his black balaclava by messy stitches.

Just like Price, he was quick to bounce back into being the Lieutenant of Task Force 141. You were used to seeing him in full combat gear considering the big count of missions you went together into, but you couldn't help but furrow your brow at the sight of an additional Ka-Bar knife strapped in a detachable holster on his belt. And at the two fragmentation grenades attached to the same belt. But after all, he and Soap would drop out of the plane before you hit the landing zone - he would need all the additional equipment and ammunition he could get.

"Are you ready to go into the hornet's nest?", you tried to tease him in an attempt to mask the audible gulp you had to take as the adrenaline started to kick in.

"You'll have reduced it to half before I even take out my knife!", he hummed as an answer, a soft warmth glowing in his chocolate eyes.

You opened your mouth to talk back, but you were interrupted by the loud beeping that signalled you to board the aircraft. You knew you had to go, you had a tight schedule to follow after all, but neither of you seemed to want to be the first to leave.

"I'll meet you at the safehouse?"

This time you couldn't look him in the eye, pining your gaze to the ground as your voice trembled, a soft vibration that got lost in the brutal cacophony of sounds. A surprised sound left your lips when his tac vest came back into your sight, two gloved fingers resting on your chin and lifting it until your eyes made contact with his.

"I'll be there."

You maintained eye contact as his hand fumbled for something on his vest. His glance was soft and tender, just as reassuring as his words and the gloved fingers that still lingered above your helmet strap.

"And I'll want that back."

You shot him a quizzical look before feeling an unfamiliar weight in the pocket of your tac vest. Your eyes shot down to the place, catching a glimpse of his skeleton glove before setting on the crumpled, half-smoked pack of cigarettes, and a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"That's an order, Sergeant!", he barked out before heading towards the aircraft. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and follow him, left hand resting over the smokes.

"Roger that, sir!"

--- 2 hours earlier

"Watcher 1 to Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

Laswell's voice could be heard through the radio, partially interrupting your watch. With mechanic moves, you pressed the communication button and brought the microphone closer to your chapped lips:

"Watcher 1, this is Bravo 4-7, solid copy! Go on for traffic."

"Interrogative, have you got eyes on the target?"

Shifting a bit under the dessert camouflage net, you peered down the scope of the rifle to check the gates of the compound. Two men with hunting dogs seemed to be on foot patrol, automatic guns swaying at their hips.

"Affirmative. Do you want me to take them down?"

It had been more than 20 hours since you got into position, yet all you were ordered to do was to keep watch and stand for future orders. Since it was not the first mission of this kind, you had expected that yet you could see the Privates getting jumpy and distracted, the two of them idly chatting between their own shared camo net.

"Negative, we expect the smugglers to arrive shortly after they switch patrols- we plan to infiltrate so hold your fire!"

"Copy, Watcher 1! Bravo 4-7 out!"

Taking one last look at the current patrol, you switched the communications on the channel you used to communicate with the two Privates. During your first mission, Ghost wasn't exactly the most talkative partner and not being able to entirely understand his intentions almost got you killed. After you got to know him better, you knew that he had been testing you and that he was always ready to step in if things went more south than expected, but nonetheless, you decided to do things differently with the two soon-to-be operators:

"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

You turned your eyes to the left, a frown on your face as you saw the camo net slightly shift as the radio began to crackle.

"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1. Uhm… solid copy?"

"This is Bravo 0-7. Why the hell are you talking to your supervisor on the main channel?"

You couldn't help but giggle at Ghost's rough voice and you rolled your eyes at his antics. He was surely having the time of his life after having found a way to pick on the two men.

"Sorry sir… uhm, we were answering to Bravo 4-7-1 and…"

"Bravo 4-7-1, this is Bravo 4-7, switch to channel 4 and we'll continue our private chat there."

The quiet air was filled with even more crackling static and occasional mutters coming from who was probably Reynolds. Still keeping your eyes locked on the gates of the complex, you let out a sigh as you pressed the communication button again before Ghost could intervene:

"Bravo 4-7-1, use the red dial that is next to the communication button. All Bravos, sorry for the disturbance - though we could all use a small break!"

"You've got it, Bambi! How are you holding up there?"

You smiled hearing Kyle's reassuring tone, briefly accompanied by what must have been Price's laugh. Ghost and Soap would infiltrate the building from one side, while the Captain and Gaz would break in from the other- and you would keep watch and annihilate any unexpected threat, coming from the outside.

"It's all good, Gaz, all good. Just sitting my ass here and waiting for the moment I get to save yours!"

"Have you seen this ass though? Definitely worth killing for!"

Naturally, Soap couldn't help but intervene, his cocky reply being laced with a hint of playful arrogance. You opened your mouth to give him a well-chosen answer, but Ghost beat you to it. He was in full-combat mode, his stern voice being more than enough to make you bounce back into the harsh reality of the mission.

"Keep talking, MacTavish, and there'll be no rear-end left of you by the time the job is done! Party's over, get your asses back into the game!"

"Roger!"

But you still laughed after you made sure your radio was off, shaking your head in disbelief. Even when pent up on combat stress and adrenaline, you knew Ghost's pun was intentional. Involuntarily, your hand brushed over the crumpled pack of smokes, fishing it out of the pocket and bringing it closer to your face. Closing your eyes, you inhaled slowly, a deep sigh leaving your mouth. Even after a bumpy plane ride and 20 hours spent on a stakeout, Simon's scent was lingering, a silent sign of his presence.

"Bravo 4-7, this is Bravo 4-7-1, how copy?", Private John's voice could be heard through the radio, a tense silence settling in after his words. You had an inkling that they still had second thoughts on whether they were on the right channel or not.

"Solid copy, Private." You eventually decided to end their inner torment and reply, a grin forming at the corner of your lips when you heard a collective sigh from the two.

"Ma'am, we're sorry about before…"

"Mistakes happen- let that be your biggest and last one", you were prompt to cut them short, remembering how Ghost had tried to instil discipline through clipped, yet complete orders. "Now, Reynolds, tell me what you two are looking at!"

"Yes, ma'am! We're looking at two solid iron gates which are openly guarded by two mobile patrols, each one consisting of an armed man and a hunting dog. They haven't rotated in the past 5 hours, I think, so they are probably expecting to be changed soon-"

"Which also means that they might have got bored and should not be as attentive to their surroundings as-"

"Wrong, Private Johns, you are dead. Lesson number one on the battlefield, never underestimate your enemy!", you barked through the headset in a manner that would make Ghost proud. "You always need to uphold the enemy to the highest standard, not rely on their mistakes to succeed. Mistakes are occasional, but underestimating them is what will get you killed!"

The prolonged silence on their part was not a good sign and, for a moment, you wondered whether you'd been too harsh on them. But they must have known what they were signing up for temporarily joining the Task Force, so you sighed in defeat and pressed the communication button once more:

"I want you to move to the next ridge and keep watch from there. I expect detailed reports every 15 minutes from now on. Any questions?"

"No ma'am. Bravo 4-7-1 out."

"Bravo 4-7 out."

---

You started to realise something was wrong when another hour passed and the patrols were not switched, but instead doubled, with no signs of smugglers in sight. So far the main channel had been quiet and you divided your attention between the Privates' reports and being on the lookout for any signs that you've been compromised.

Your left hand was unconsciously fiddling with the cigarette pack, while your right one was adjusting the scope to focus on the road leading to the complex. Your breath hitched upon seeing a Humvee heading towards the gates and you fumbled for the communication button of the radio, bringing the mic closer to your mouth.

The sudden explosion of static coming from the radio had you almost ripping off the headset from your ears, a cold shiver running down your spine the moment you realised it.

Your radio was not working.

"All Bravos, this is Bravo 4-7, how copy?"

You could feel your heartbeat increasing at an alarming rate when no answer came and you turned to look at the place where Privates Reynolds and Johns should have been, keeping watch on the complex. Your heart dropped further in your chest when you realised the ridge was empty and there had been more than 15 minutes since their last report- still that didn't justify why they'd left their position without telling you. Were Price's orders not clear enough? Sure, your radio may have broken somehow, but they should have come and checked in with you in person as they must have been trained.

You let out a string of curses under your breath, the realisation of the imminent danger you were currently in hitting you like a bullet train. You must have been compromised, the same way the scouts Laswell mentioned had been - and your radio was not working because someone must have been using a signal jammer in the area. And judging by the absence of the two Privates, the order to retreat had already been given.

You needed to get out of there.

With rapid, but calculated movements, you disassembled the sniper and began to pack it into a camo warbag. You were slowly rolling up the camouflage net when multiple gunshots were fired on the road you had been watching. Your eyes widened in disbelief when you saw what must have been the convoy supposed to transport the weapons Laswell talked about, coming under heavy fire. There had been someone else who had known about the transport, and who must have done everything they could to get their hands on it.

And taking into consideration what they had done to the Special Forces scouts, you could easily rule out the saying that stated that the enemy of your enemy was your friend. So when you heard men hollering in what seemed to be Russian in your vicinity, you ripped out your dog tags and all the badges that identified you as a British Special Forces operator and buried them into a shallow mound, carefully placing one of Ghost's cigarettes on top of it. As the shouts grew closed, you took in a deep breath and your left hand gripped around the hilt of the extra Ka-Bar knife you kept in your boot.

With a small sigh of resignation, you accepted the fact that you couldn't outrun them without the high risk of getting killed. While the ridge you were stationed on was a good point of observation, it provided no proper cover outside of the camouflage net you've already packed and it only left you with the choice you've been trained to make and despised the most.

Surrender yourself and hope somebody will come to save you.

-- present time

"Why didn't she listen to the orders to retrea-.."

One of the Privates whose nametag read Johns tried to speak up, but his words faltered as the deadly gazes of the remaining Task Force 141 operators were set on him. And at that moment they resembled a pack of hound dogs, eager to be released on a hunt.

"Listen here, boy", Soap began in an unusually calm tone, although his tensed-up form spoke otherwise. "You and your friend here- you better pack up and make sure you board Laswell's ride, as soon as she touches ground here." His words were cold and calculated, his voice getting harsher as he went on. "See, right now we are all focused on getting back our comrade- to put it plainly, we do not have the time to deal with you leaving her behind deep in enemy territory."

He paused for better effect.

"But Lord save you once we find her because nothing will hold us back and we. Will. Be. Coming. For. You."

"That's enough, MacTavish!", Laswell curtly said as she entered the safe house. She was dressed plainly, if not for the bulletproof vest she'd donned and the usual stack of manilla folders she was usually carrying around had been replaced by a laptop she placed in front of Price and opened. "I take full responsibility for what happened to Miss L/N. As for now, she is declared as MIA."

"What do you mean, happened? I don't care what you're going to say, but I am sure as hell going to get her out of wherever she is!", Ghost couldn't contain his growl, his fingers turning white from his hard grip on the chair.

If any of his teammates noticed the sudden shift in his demeanour when Laswell declared you as missing in action, they had the common sense to keep their thoughts to themselves. All of them were stressed, angry and tired, but there was one more feeling that was bubbling in Ghost's chest, something that he hadn't felt in a long time, not since he'd been buried alive in a dead man's casket.

Simon Riley was scared. He was scared he wouldn't be able to get you in time, that he would fail to protect you when you needed it the most. He couldn't control the frantic way his heart hammered in his chest when his brain fabricated scenarios in which you were alone, cold and petrified, and it took him a great deal of what was left of his self-control not to throw caution out the window and run to find you.

Ghost was scared for you, but what terrified him the most was the thought of having to live in a world without you.

On the outside, he seemed still as a statue, his trained blank look not betraying the internal conflict that was raging inside. He saw Laswell's lips move and the laptop screen that was placed in front of him, but the lights were too bright and the colours, too saturated. He was supposed to watch a video, a drone footage, as his military-trained mind registered, but the voices in his head became too loud to ignore and the temperature in the room was too high for his liking. His breaths quickened and he felt the mask sticking to his face, suffocating him, as if he was in the coffin again, in the dark, and alone with a rotting corpse. Only it was not the body of the person who'd betrayed him, but your sleeping silhouette, gently resting your head on his chest and sighing every once in a while.

The footage from the drone zoomed in on a familiar figure who was encircled by armed men from all directions. The scene of you being taken as a hostage played in front of Ghost's eyes, but his mind did not register it as his sole focus was on your slumbering figure, the warmth of your body against his playing a big role in persuading Simon that you were actually there, with him, safe and sound.

Yet you weren't, and when he tried to brush a strand of hair away from your face he was met with the rough and cold surface of a skull plate, his fingers instantly jerking away in repulsion. A wave of nausea had him shot up from his chair and stumble to the bathroom, shaky hands fumbling with the thick mask before he could empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt as if he'd been dunked in a barrel of cold water. His mind was no longer muddled with what-ifs and second-guesses, but had a clear purpose in sight: one that would keep him going until the end of the earth just to see it done. His hands no longer trembled as he pulled the black balaclava on his face and headed back to the main room, paying no mind to Soap's concerned gaze.

His eyes were cold and determined as he laid his hands on the first assault rifle within reach, methodically assembling it and stuffing as many ammunition magazines as he could into the pockets of his tactical vest. His hands itched for a cigarette, but the urge only strengthened his resolve: he would find you, even if it meant it was the last thing he did.

---

You didn't even have the energy to flinch when the fist collided with your face, sending your head rolling backwards. The world was reduced to a blurry mess, blue stars dancing before your eyes. Out of instinct, you lolled your head to the side and spit on the ground, in an attempt to diminish the metallic tang of blood in your mouth. You could still feel the unpleasant stinging that overwhelmed the left half of your face where you'd been hit with the back of a gun but tried to ignore the blood that was trickling across your cheek, all too aware of the jagged line that started near the temple and stopped short of the jawline. The bastards knew how to do their job and they weren't ones to shy away from using you as a means to an end- the future facial scar they'd given you serving as solid proof for that.

"He asked you a question, filth!"

An angry conversation was taking place right in front of you, but you were too busy trying to alleviate the pain, to focus on your captors. Sometimes, familiar words would reach your ears: american, military, information; but it was clear that they were struggling to find a way to make you talk. The questions were always the same ones, similar to what you've been prepared for in interrogation training- who were you, who were you working for, what are the Americans planning? Why has everything had always something to do with the Americans?

And just as you'd been taught in interrogation training, your answers were short and clipped- revealing little to no information at that time. You were still in the phase where they saw you as an asset, a potential source of information, taking into consideration the fact that they didn't kill you on the spot, and it was up to you to dictate the rhythm of their game. Speak too fast and too soon, they will get everything they need and kill you. Say nothing for too much time, they will see you as a dead-end and kill you.

You were currently walking the tightrope, trying to keep the balance between the increasing pain you found yourself in and the amount and importance of the information you were giving them. All you had to do was to make sure you stayed alive long enough for your teammates to find you. You knew they would take care of the rest.

"We shall try a different question then, kotyonok…" You shot your captor a cold look full of spite, not sure what disgusted you more: the mocking nickname he gave you or the pressure his fingers applied on your face, so different from the calloused, yet gentle touch of Ghost. "You wouldn't tell us your name- at least give us your codename and we might get Boris here to clean up your cheek. I know you wouldn't like that cut to scar…"

Your hands were numb from the tight grip they used to tie you to the metal chair, but you could still feel them shake when a knife, your Ka-Bar knife, was pressed against your cheek. You bit your lip so hard it drew blood in an attempt to stifle the tears that were pooling in your eyes, and you couldn't help but whimper when the blade was lightly traced against your skin before being sheathed, a heartless laugh following the gesture soon after.

You closed your head and let your head hang low, the rhythmic drip of your blood being the only sound that filled the room for a while. You could only hope you would make it through the next hours and your teammates wouldn't have to be greeted by your still-warm body.

---

Ghost was quick to follow the sound of Gaz's voice, his steps leading him to what proved to be quite a strategic place to observe the complex. A brief look at his compass confirmed the coordinates registered along with the drone footage, and even if more than 4 hours had passed since you'd been captured, his eyes were frantically searching for any signs that might lead him to you.

"I found something! She must have been camped here, there are still traces in the ground from where she pinned the camo net!"

"There was something in the footage…", Gaz started to mutter to himself, starting to hit heaps of dirt at random. "She was crouched over the earth like.. she was trying to bury something, I think?"

Not bothering to reply, Ghost's eyes began to systematically scan the area. At first glance, it all seemed the same, the desert soil not providing much diversity in terms of landscape. But you had to leave a mark behind, something subtle, yet noticeable at the same time, something that you could find only if you knew what you were looking for…

"That's bloody good work, Gaz!"

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening at the sudden praise coming from his usually cold-demeanoured Lieutenant. For a couple of seconds, he was too distracted to notice that Ghost had kneeled on the ground, his gloved hands digging through a heap of dirt, a white cigarette carefully placed away from the mound. By the time Price and Soap joined them, he managed to unearth your dog tags and Special Forces badges and put them on display:

"She knew she would be taken in… and that revealing her identity at a later point would buy her time…"

"That's basic interrogation training, Sergeant!", Ghost barked at Soap in an unusually aggressive way that made the Scot frown in his direction.

He opened his mouth to talk back, yet no words came out when he noticed your dog tags wrapped around Ghost's hand and the obsessive way he seemed to fiddle with them. Subtly sharing a knowing look with Price, who just raised his eyebrows in a silent suggestion to let it slide, Soap turned around and started scanning the perimeter for any sign that might point to your current whereabouts. Your sudden disappearance had a big impact on all of them, yet it seemed that it affected Ghost the most, his recent mood swings being strong proof of it.

"Bloody bastards… they smoked my cigarettes…"

Simon stomped the cigarette butts under his boot, turning his head to Price, but the Captain was already meters away, fishing another cigarette butt from the ground. Nodding his head in Ghost's direction, he brought the radio closer to his mouth and pressed the communication button:

"Kate, I think we have a lead. Well, at least a path of …smoked stubs?"

Yet before Price could give the order to spread out and start looking for more tracks, Simon already went ahead of others, pulling the automatic gun from his shoulder. Under all the layers comprising of the tactical vest and the rest of the military-issued gear, his heart was thundering in his chest. Second thoughts were already forming inside his tired mind: they really got you, they stole your cigarettes, the pack he gave you for safekeeping and that was supposed to be your lucky charm- somehow, he had thought that having a physical piece of him would keep you out of harm's way.

He could only hope he found you in time before the damage you'd sustained would become irreversible.

---

"I don't think you understand how this is working, milaya…"

He was so close to you, that you could feel his rancid breath on your face, a faint familiar smell lodging in your nostrils. Your head was throbbing, and you decided you were hallucinating- Russians didn't smoke the British cigarette brand Ghost did. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, subconsciously wishing for the masked Lieutenant to find you faster.

"So far we had a monologue…- but I still think you have potential."

Out of reflex, you flinched when someone gripped your shoulders, but the pain your mind was preparing for did not come. Instead, you were untied from the chair and violently shoved forward. Your hands were still tied behind your back and you ended up falling face first on the hard concrete, letting out a pathetic moan that raised a few laughs from your captors.

As you lay there, disoriented and struggling to regain composure, you felt a pair of arms hooking your shoulders, pulling you upright and dragging you out of the room. You were too exhausted to put up a fight, the pain dangerously dulling your senses, but that didn't stop you from thrashing around in your captor's grip and throwing curses at him. To your dismay, he didn't seem fazed by it, his grip never faltering as he hauled you through a deserted corridor, seemingly underground, judging by the lack of natural light. You maintained your aggressive facade, yet your eyes were carefully studying your surroundings, taking in every little detail that might prove crucial, should you be able to escape.

Before you realised it, you were thrown into a dark room, yet this time you were able to cushion the fall and land on your knees. Wincing at the brutal impact, you squinted in an attempt to make out your surroundings and any potential escape routes.

"See, little one, everyone has a breaking point.."

The harsh voice of your captor broke through the silence, followed, as if on cue, by the lights being turned on. The sudden brightness had you close your eyes in discomfort, your wrists starting to turn red and raw from your relentless efforts to free yourself from the tight ropes. You could feel blood trickling through the small abrasions where the rope had cut into your skin.

"It seems plain violence is not yours. Not even cresting your pretty little face… I will tell you a secret, you might not live long to keep it anyway, but that is the breaking point of many- ladies and men both."

As he went on with what you decided was a well-rehearsed discourse, he started walking in circles around the room, almost like a predator circling its prey. The intimidation technique was not foreign to you, yet you did your best to morph your face into a scared and hesitant expression, giving him what he wanted to see: a person who was on the verge of breaking, someone who should be kept alive for a little more.

"So I thought to myself- the doll does not work alone. Maybe we should bring one of her friends here and see who gives in first."

If you weren't busy maintaining the terrified mask, you might have laughed at his weak attempt to extract information about your teammates. He was trying so hard to be menacing, yet he didn't know that you had been trained by the Ghost himself, who had drilled all possible interrogation scenarios into your mind. You made a mental note to thank him if you ever got out of there.

"But then I remembered we had a special room we haven't been able to test yet."

His voice grew closer and closer. Keeping your eyes glued to the ground, you focused on the blood that was dripping from your face, staining the concrete floor crimson. When he exhaled in your direction, you could clearly feel the smoke of Ghost's cigarettes wafting towards you, your hands clenching in fists at the audacity he possessed. You opened your mouth for the first time, if only to give him a piece of your mind, yet you barely had time to register him roughly grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and violently dragging you to the middle of the room.

"And if this doesn't break you… do not worry, we will find something else!"

You could barely make sense of his words, his unveiled threat, before your head was forcefully shoved into what you made out to be a basin. Piercing-cold water enveloped you from all sides, and panic surged through every fiber of your being when you realised that there was a firm grip on the back of your head, preventing you from pulling out. Your throat burned with each passing second, and your vision gradually darkened as you struggled to stay conscious, your body going limp on the edge of the bathtub.

"After all, we have all the time in the world. No one will find us here… not when we are right under their noses."

---

It took them one hour under the scorching sun, but the members of Task Force 141 had managed to discover the Russians' hideout. Following the cigarette butts eventually led them to a camouflage net, one which Ghost almost ripped away when he recognized it as yours, and they ended up staring at the entrance of what was supposed to be an underground bunker. The few guards that were lingering around didn't know what hit them, a blood-splattered skull plate being the last thing they'd seen before collapsing to the ground.

As he carefully threaded through the dimly lit corridor, Ghost's demons had never been so loud. On the one hand, his feet were urging him to bolt, to sprint through every room and hallway and find you as quickly as he could, but on the other hand, he was still part of a team with whom he shared a common purpose. Ditching them would be highly dangerous and irresponsible and it would help no one in the end.

Yet all common sense jumped out of the window when the silence was shattered by a high-pitched scream followed by a loud string of curses, both in English and Russian. Simon barely waited for Price's curt order to go before he bolted in the direction of the commotion, swiftly incapacitating any man who was foolish enough to get in this way.

At that moment, he didn't even need the mask to become one with the Ghost- the primal need to protect you overtook his senses, the chaotic surroundings fading into the background as the singular purpose took hold of him. When the automatic gun ran out of ammunition he simply threw it away and lunged for the rifle strapped on his back. When he ran out of throwing knives, he openly jumped on anyone who got in his way. He did not hold back, being quick to send his opponents staggering backwards and crashing into walls or doors. His objective was clear - to create a diversion, a way to distract attention from you and put an end to the torment you must have been going through.

He didn't even bother to check if the door was unlocked before kicking it to the ground, unaware of the splinters that lodged themselves into his gear. When he registered the lower half of your limp body, beaten and bruised, he saw red. Dropping his rifle to the ground, he let out a feral growl as he launched himself at the man standing in the middle of the room, who was staring at him wide-eyed, fumbling with the safety of the gun he was holding. Blow after blow rained upon him, each strike being filled with a mix of madness and rage that Ghost had struggled to contain within himself throughout the day. The Russian, unable to defend himself from Ghost's fury, was crouched in a fetal position, whimpering and sobbing, just like you did hours ago, yet Simon's assault did not seem to falter. He was determined to make him feel at least a fraction of what you've been put through.

Until he realised that there was no other movement in the room, that you hadn't crept up to him and assured him you were fine like he secretly hoped you would. He was almost scared to look in the direction of your still-limp body, his blood running cold at the sight of you leaning against the edge of a water basin, your head still submerged in the water.

Simon had often fantasized about what kissing you for the first time would be like. It was a small comfort he liked to indulge in whenever he would try to go to bed and sleep wouldn't find him. Where would you be, how would your lips feel when pressed against his? Would it be gentle, or wild and passionate? What would you say to him afterwards? Would you regret or do it again in the following moments?

He definitely did not expect your first intimate contact to be on the cold, hard floor of the torture room, with your lifeless body hanging limp in his arms. He ripped his gloves away from his hands, searching for your pulse with trembling fingers and the relief he felt upon feeling an irregular, yet faint heartbeat, had him peel the mask from his face and discard it on the floor. Without wasting a second, he tilted your head back gently and sealed his chapped lips against yours, trying his best to breathe life into your still body. Your skin was cold against his fingers and he could almost feel his heart stop beating when he realised your condition was not improving.

Ghost was not a religious man, yet he started to recite the only prayer his mother ever taught him when he pressed his hands against your chest and started the compressions. Hot tears started rolling down his cheeks as he counted the compressions, lips trembling as he kept chanting your name again and again, urging you to open your eyes and wake up.

A choked sob left his mouth when you gasped and started coughing, your body twitching against your will. He was quick to roll you onto your side, gently patting your back in an attempt to help you expel the water lodged in your throat. His vision was still clouded from the tears, but that did not stop him from cradling your shaking figure in his arms, resting his head atop yours. He could feel your erratic breathing and your heartwrenching sobs, but all he could do was hug you tighter and try to reassure you, even though his voice was breaking:

'It's alright. They won't be hurting you again… I'll keep you safe!"

You didn't know how long you stayed in that position, but you were convinced you had been so deprived of oxygen that you started hallucinating. Somehow, you were absolutely convinced it was Ghost who was holding you tight in his arms, your cheek being squished against a tactical vest that could only be his, judging by its specific scent. Yet the sight of a head of dirty blonde hair made you scrunch your forehead in confusion. Why was he not wearing his mask? Your eyesight was still too blurred to make out the features of the person who was holding you, but you could trace the contours of his face in your sleep, even though you could count on your fingers the number of times you had seen them before.

Breathing heavily, you lifted a shaky hand towards his face, scared that if you moved too suddenly, the spell would break and you would be once again pulled out of the basin and asked the generic set of questions you've been asked for the past half an hour. But when your fingers made contact with Simon's cheek, softly threading through his stubble and tracing the deep scar that almost split his lip in two, you let out a breath of relief, a warm wave of comfort washing over you. Your tired mind took note of the foreign voices that were mixed with Simon's reassuring whispers: there was someone repeatedly asking whether you were okay, someone talking over the radio and someone asking for med-evac. Yet the sudden commotion only made you nuzzle your head against Ghost's chest, letting out a sigh of relief as you finally allowed your eyes to shut closed, the constant thought of finally being safe serving as a temporary balm to your wounds.

The base's hospital was no different in any of those regards, yet Simon had spent the last days inside its four walls, camped out on the armchair Price had arranged to be brought into your salon the moment you'd been transferred from the municipal hospital.

---

For someone who had spent a good part of his life in hospitals, Ghost hated them. He couldn't stand the pungent smell of chemicals or the hushed conversations that took place in the brightly lit corridors. The constant beeping of the monitoring devices would drive him insane and he detested the cheap food.

Ghost hated hospitals, but he hated being away from you even more.

So he had resorted to spending the last three days acting both as a makeshift nurse and a guard dog for any of the curious passers-by who would try and peek at the operator who had been captured by the enemy and survived torture. Soap, Gaz or Price would usually join him outside working hours, trying to make small talk or urging him to eat the take-out they bought him, but he would only leave your side for bathroom breaks and showers.

He spent the rest of the time next to your sleeping figure, lying still in the armchair and keeping his eyes glued to you. Every once in a while, he would zone out and find himself counting how many times your chest went up and down, totally unaware of the heart-rate monitor that was placed right next to him.

For the time being, Simon was grateful you'd been filled up with painkillers and still sleeping. He couldn't wait for you to wake up, but he wasn't mentally prepared for it: it wouldn't be like before when you fell asleep on him and woke up feeling slightly ashamed, but refreshed, a soft smile lighting up your face. This time, you would wake up to a body full of bruises and a new scar marking your face- and he had no idea what he could say to help you get through it.

Simon was not a man of words, so he decided to convey his feelings through actions and gestures. His moves were well-rehearsed as he emptied the glass of water he'd filled a couple of hours before and refilled it to the brim, placing it on a table next to your bed. His gloves had been long gone by the time he changed your blanket with a fresh and soft one that Soap had brought the last time he came in. After he ensured you were comfortably tucked in, Ghost busied himself with rearranging the flowers and the get-well-soon cards that had already been neatly arranged at the edge of your bed.

After there was nothing left for him to do, he eventually dragged the armchair close to your bedside, removing his mask with slow and weary movements. The dark circles that had formed under his eyes were a stark contrast against his pale complexion, and the stubble he'd neglected for the past few days threatened to turn into a full-grown beard. Yet that did not stop him from exposing his face in your presence, his tired mind arguing that perhaps the sight of him might pull you out of your head, at least temporarily.

A heavy sigh left his body as he laid his upper body on your bed, his head carefully resting on the top of your hand. Out of instinct, he nuzzled his cheek against the soft skin of your palm, relishing in the warmth of the contact, and draped one arm against your body, gently pulling you closer to him.

Minutes passed and his eyes gradually fluttered closed, his soft breaths slowly mingling with yours. He would never admit it out loud, but especially after the events of the last mission, the sole way he could fall asleep was in your proximity, only finding solace in the warm feeling of your touch. It may have taken him a while, but he eventually came to the realisation that it was in your arms that he felt safe, where the turmoil and chaos of the outside could temporarily be forgotten. And he was determined to keep it that way, no matter what it took.

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more notes: do you guys would like a bonus part, say, an epilogue for this? I'm thinking of something like "the one where they finally get a bed" or something... let me know in the comments (or ask box if you'd like to remain anonymous)

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