#like her face is an OPEN WOUND. there is BLOOD dripping from her mask

[abyssal-ilk]

the thing about ghilan'nain is that when i look at her, she doesn't freak me out or feel gross/unnerving in any way. like i look at her and i can't even focus on how she's supposed to be corrupted and scary because i'm too busy looking at her face and back and going. damn. that shit has gotta hurt, right??

[asoiaf-bambii]

𝔐y 𝔚ife 𝔦s 𝔞 𝔚itch

summary: forced into a marriage of political necessity, King Jacaerys Velaryon finds himself tied to Y/N, a mysterious and powerful woman from a family shrouded in dark rumours.

paring: jacaerys velaryon x reader

The grand hall of the Red Keep was deathly silent, save for the faint crackling of the fire that illuminated the stone walls with a dim, flickering light. Jacaerys Velaryon, King of the Seven Kingdoms, sat rigidly on the Iron Throne, his fingers gripping the cold, unforgiving steel of its arms. His face was set in a mask of calm authority, though beneath the surface, a storm brewed.

He had been forced into this marriage—forced to take a woman he barely knew as his queen. It was an arrangement, a political manoeuvre, to unite the powers of Westeros and Essos under one reign, but it had never been his choice. His heart still burned with resentment at the thought, the weight of duty pressing down on him heavier than ever before.

Her family was one of the most powerful in all of Essos, a house shrouded in mystery, their influence stretching across the Narrow Sea and into the heart of Westeros. They said her bloodline was ancient, woven with magic and darkness, and rumours of her power swirled like wildfire in every corner of the realm. A witch, they called her, though no one dared say it to her face. Even her past was cloaked in secrecy, as if the world had forgotten where she came from—or perhaps, been made to forget.

And now, she was his queen.

Jacaerys’ jaw clenched as the heavy doors of the hall creaked open. The sound echoed through the empty chamber, and all eyes turned to the figure gliding through the entrance. Y/N, his queen, his wife by name but not by heart, entered with a grace that bordered on predatory. Her gown, a deep, blood-red silk, shimmered in the firelight as it clung to her every curve, and her eyes—sharp and calculating—were fixed on him.

She moved like a storm contained in a human form, her every step deliberate, every movement precise. The court whispered about her, spoke of her seductive charms and her dangerous allure. But beneath the beauty, there was a cunning mind at work, a manipulative streak that she wielded as skillfully as any blade.

She was confident, arrogant even, as if she knew the world was hers to command. And why wouldn’t she? With the power of her family backing her, withrumourss of her dark magic swirling around her like a cloak, who would dare oppose her?

As she approached the throne, her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, Jacaerys felt the air around them shift—thicken with the weight of something unspoken. She stopped before him, her lips curling into a smile that was equal parts charming and dangerous.

“Your Grace,” she said, her voice a silken whisper as she dipped into a low curtsy. The formalities were all there, but Jacaerys could feel the mockery beneath her words, as if she were playing a game only she knew the rules to.

“Queen Y/N,” he replied, his tone cold, distant. It had been this way since the day they had been wed. Respectful on the surface, but nothing more.

“You look tired, my king.” Her words dripped with false concern, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she straightened, her gaze never leaving his. “The burden of ruling the Seven Kingdoms must weigh heavily on you.”

Jacaerys fought the urge to scoff. Her voice, her words—everything about he - was a weapon, sharp and precise, designed to cut deep while leaving no visible wound. She was playing the part of the dutiful queen, but there was a darkness behind her eyes, one that kept him on edge.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said flatly, his eyes hard as he watched her approach the steps leading to the Iron Throne.

Her laugh was soft and melodic, but there was an edge to it. “Of course. A king must always appear in control, mustn’t he?”

Jacaerys narrowed his eyes. “And a queen must know her place.”

The room went still, the tension between them palpable. But Y/N, in typical fashion, remained unfazed. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a more genuine smile this time. “I know my place, husband,” she said sweetly, though her eyes sparkled with defiance. “Right beside you. After all, we are partners now. Rulers of both Westeros and Essos.”

Her words were true, but Jacaerys couldn’t shake the feeling that she had never intended to be an equal partner. From the moment she had stepped foot in the Red Keep, she had taken control—subtly, carefully, but undeniably. She charmed the lords, whispered into the ears of the council, and always seemed to know just what to say, just what to do, to bend people to her will. And though Jacaerys was no fool, though he saw her manipulations for what they were, he couldn’t stop them.

Her presence was intoxicating, whether he liked it or not. She was bold, charismatic, and cunning, traits he could almost admire—if they weren’t so dangerous.

“Is that what this is?” Jacaerys asked, his voice laced with bitterness. “A partnership?”

Her smile widened, and she took another step closer, her gown whispering against the cold stone floor. “Of course,” she purred, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “A marriage of two great powers. Together, we could reshape the world, rule over both Westeros and Essos with a strength unmatched by any other.”

“You speak of conquest,” he said, his voice low. “But the Seven Kingdoms are already mine.”

Y/N’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing across her face. “For now,” she said, her voice soft but filled with an unspoken threat. “But there are always those who would seek to challenge your rule. Our rule.”

Jacaerys stood, his tall frame towering over her as he descended the steps of the throne. “Do not mistake me for one of your pawns, Y/N,” he said, his voice hard, his brown eyes locking with hers. “I will not be manipulated.”

For the first time, her expression faltered, just for a moment. But then she recovered, her lips curving into a smile that was all the more dangerous for its sweetness. “I would never dare,” she said softly, though they both knew it was a lie.

He reached her, standing close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, his jaw tight with barely concealed anger. “This marriage was a necessity,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “Nothing more.”

“And yet,” she whispered, her gaze never leaving his, “you can not deny the power we hold together.”

Jacaerys clenched his teeth. She was right. He hated that she was right. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with—her cunning and charisma, his boldness, and loyalty. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Or her.

“I am not one of your playthings, Y/N,” he said, his voice a growl. “You will not control me.”

Her smile remained, but there was a coldness in her eyes now, a warning. “I don’t need to control you, my king,” she said softly, her voice smooth as silk. “I simply need to stand beside you. And whether you like it or not, that is exactly where I will be.”

Jacaerys stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest, frustration and desire warring within him. She was impossible, infuriating, dangerous. But she was also the most intoxicating woman he had ever known.

And that terrified him more than anything.

“You play a dangerous game,” he warned, his voice low, threatening.

Her eyes gleamed with amusement, her confidence unshaken. “I always do, my love,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath warm against his skin. “But it’s the only game worth playing.”

Jacaerys’s hands clenched at his sides, the storm inside him raging. He wanted to push her away, to break free of the hold she had on him. Instead, he found himself standing still, frozen by the sheer force of her presence.

She stepped back, her eyes gleaming with victory as she gave him one final, knowing smile. “Goodnight, Your Grace,” she whispered, turning on her heel and gliding out of the hall, leaving Jacaerys standing alone, the weight of his crown heavier than ever.

He watched her go, his chest tight with a mixture of anger and something far more dangerous. She was his queen, forced upon him by duty, by politics. But deep down, in a part of himself he refused to acknowledge, he knew the truth.

He wasn’t just angry because he had been forced to marry her.

He was angry because he couldn’t stop wanting her.

And that, above all, was the most dangerous game of all.

[dovveri]

matching wounds

synopsis: 2 victors are brought back as mentors for the 58th hunger games. you don’t understand how your fellow victor nayeon seems so okay after everything that happened in the arena.

warnings: angst! sleep issues, trauma, death, killings, blood, weapons, mentions of sex trafficking, suggestive at times, all the trigger warnings that come w the hunger games ig…

w/c: 13.3k

a/n: got this idea post conan concert listening to the exit and being thrown back to this one hunger games edit to the exit and this was born! its mostly just them dealing w their trauma and talking and being there for each other </3

»┼)➝

the train ride to the capitol is it's usual flamboyant, boastful lie. you scowl, looking out the window as you pass the countryside at rapid speed. a year was not nearly enough to recover from the trauma of winning the infamous hunger games. you still remember very clearly, the absolute dread you felt sitting on this train a year ago, praying to all the deities and gods you had never bothered learning the names of in your limited education in district 9.

your attention is drawn over to the carriage door when it slides open. your accompaniment, the only other victor alive in district 9, walks in briskly. she doesn't seem to take notice of you slinking around in the corner of the carriage. im nayeon was something else. she was your mentor when you were in the games last year. she had won her games not too long before you, reaped at the very young age of 14 for the 49th hunger games. you guessed you could consider yourself lucky in that sense. your name was picked out last year when you were already 18, so you already had the build and experience from working out in the fields all day to help you win. nayeon's games didn't make too big of a splash because the next year was the quarter quell and haymitch abernathy from district 12 stole the win to the surprise of much of the capitol and the districts. he was all everyone could talk about and people easily forgot the winner of the games the year before his.

you don't remember watching her games on television either, you were only 10 at the time, and your family was too poor to afford something as luxurious as a screen. you saw no sense in watching the games when you could be out working the fields to bring home food for your family instead, that was the first year you were trusted with heavier tasks after all.

as a mentor, nayeon was surprisingly bright and enthusiastic. she was a little awkward when she first met you, but when she found out you actually had potential, she poured her all into preparing you for your games. and with that bright charm she enticed capitol citizens easily, getting you sponsors left and right despite coming from such a poor district. your male counterpart was a little less lucky, he was killed in the initial bloodbath at the cornucopia, it was a shame but everyone expected it. you think he was one of the ones in your district that was worse off, he looked skinny as a stick, and when you sparred during training you had him flat on his face within seconds.

you'll never forget the face nayeon made when you came out of that arena, bloodied and barely conscious after killing the other final contestant, but nayeon was the first face you recognised. she hovered over you, eyebrows creased, hand over her mouth, tears falling uncontrollably, dripping onto your face.

you were the only other victor district 9 produced. it must have meant a lot to her that you survived after she sent kids off each year knowing they'll most likely die. it was the first time you had seen her break, the first time she wasn't putting on a mask for the kids she lead to their deaths.

because your district didn't have a male victor, you were asked to come back as a mentor this year instead. the kids reaped were scrawnier than ever, you had asked the staff to instruct them to take a shower first before meeting you and nayeon. you remember when you were escorted onto the lavish train for the first time you felt so disgusted with your grime and dust you felt too bad to eat all of the food that would be laid out, thinking you were much less than presentable, especially in front of nayeon.

you continue sulking in your chair, watching nayeon move around the room effortlessly. although you had moved yourself and your whole family into the victor's village, you still didn't see much of the older woman despite practically being neighbours.

you got to know her mom and her sister a little better but found out her dad was killed in a small uprising when she was only a little girl. not long after, her younger sister was born and she had to practically raise her while her mom was out trying to find as much work as she could to support all of them. nayeon grew up to be strong-willed and caring, winning her games with her cunning and natural ability to draw people into her and make them trust her. back home though, she spent most of her time away from home, no one, not even her family knows where she goes.

the carriage door slides open a second time, and this time the tributes for this year walk in shyly.

nayeon turns immediately with a smile, the same one she presented to you when you first walked in.

"hi! come in! please help yourself to all of the food here. it's a fairly long train ride into the capitol so it's important to bulk you guys up as much as we can before the games start."

the contestants flinch at the reminder of the games, looking at each other in uncertainty.

you step up then, "it's okay. everything's safe to eat. i had the same worry last year because i heard the story of that boy winning one of the early games by poisoning everyone on the train on the way to the capitol so all the other tributes were already dead or weakened by the time they stepped into the arena. security has upped considerably since the early games so it's safe to eat. you should eat, it'll help you get strong before you go in."

nayeon's gaze flicks over to you when you step out of the shadows, a curious look settling over her face.

the male contestant lurches forward at the reassurance, immediately stuffing his face with all he can reach, never having seen this much food in his life.

the girl also steps forward watching her counterpart, gingerly picking up a scone and biting in, her eyes light up at the texture.

you smile, moving towards them, "here. add this, it's called jam. it'll make it taste even better." you grab a scone for yourself and show her how to apply the jam, watching her take a bite and grin, mumbling her thanks around a mouthful of food.

nayeon slides in next to you, sitting across from the contestants with a kind smile.

"good right? after only eating plain bread and wheat for so long it's almost otherworldly."

the contestants hum and nod, still more focused on the food than the two of you.

"what were your names again?"

the boy finishes his mouthful of scrambled eggs, "julian. my family mainly works in transportation of wheat. so i've had a little experience hauling heavy things and lugging them around."

nayeon nods, "that can come in useful. there are always weapons that are included for heavyweights like you." she turns to the girl next, prompting her to reply.

"adeline. i don't have a lot of experience doing much of anything." she replies shyly.

you speak up, "that's okay! i'm sure we'll be able to find something once training starts."

you don't ask any further questions, nayeon and you in mutual silent agreement to let them eat until they were full. you send them off to explore the rest of the train and have a look outside, getting accustomed to the rapid change of pace from grueling farming work under the hot sun everyday, to air-conditioned velvet cushions and endless food and drink.

nayeon excuses herself as well, saying she was going to ask the train conductors exactly how long it would take to get there.

you wave goodbye, the permanent smile etched onto her face unnerved you.

when she was your mentor, you just thought she was encouraging. but now… now you know how she feels to be the last one standing in the arena. and you don’t understand how she can possibly smile or act as if everything was okay, not when the people you killed and betrayed haunt you in your nightmares every night, not when your senses are constantly on alert, terrified someone would jump out from around a corner to try and kill you, not when you felt like you had never left the arena.

it felt like you and nayeon had matching wounds, but yours were still black and bruised, and hers were perfectly fine. leaving the arena and trying to live life after the trauma it put on you, and being forcefully reminded of it every year afterwards, it was like you buried something that never died. how could she live with herself?

you spend the rest of the day moping around, wallowing in despair and wondering just how you were going to survive the next few weeks.

»┼)➝

a jolt of the train wakes you up. not that you could ever sleep well anyway. the first few nights after the arena you barely slept an hour a day. if you weren’t paranoid someone would attack you in your sleep, you’d be woken by the voices of the ones you killed.

you sigh, sliding out of bed and stepping outside your room. you wouldn’t be able to sleep for any longer so may as well rise early.

you pad down the hallways lightly, rubbing your eyes and wandering around aimlessly. you had gotten used to waking up at ungodly hours and usually chose to be productive when you were awake, cleaning, gardening, knitting, learning whatever you couldn't learn when you were living in poverty and didn't have the opportunity to learn. anything to get your mind off the ghosts that haunted you.

you find yourself at the back of the train, in the last carriage where half the carriage's ceiling and back wall is practically clear, allowing you to see the terrain the train was passing through.

what you don't expect is another figure, curled up at the end of the carriage sitting on the ledge and looking out at the landscape. nayeon.

she's got one knee up on the ledge, the other stretched out dangling over the edge, arms perched on her knee, head rested on her arms. you approach slowly, unsure if she was awake or not.

it seems her senses never really dulled at all either though. she noticed you when she walked into the food carriage earlier in the day, she just chose to let you think and brood, she noticed you now as you tread towards her slowly. this time she turns her head to not scare you, letting you know she was awake. her eyes are crinkled in a softer smile, heavy and tired.

"hey y/n."

you reach her quietly, she gestures for you to sit opposite her on the ledge, shuffling around so you have the space to sit up and lean back against the window.

"hi... did you sleep?"

nayeon hums, "a little."

it's silent for a few minutes, the churn of the train and the soft breaths the two of you let out are the only sounds you can hear. you look out towards the horizon as well, the fields and forests the train rapidly passes blur into mixes of brown and dark green. it's getting brighter, slowly but surely, the sun was lazily making its way up, signifying another day you were alive.

your eyes eventually drift over to nayeon. (they always do.) she was like a mystery someone would dedicate their life to uncovering. you trace over the lines on her face, noticing the little mole under her left eyebrow for the first time, the small array of freckles that dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, her heart-shaped lips full and-

you catch yourself, eyes flicking up to hers again to make sure she wasn't watching you. you breathe out a sigh of relief, she was still entranced by the slowly rising sun.

"are you always up this early?" she speaks up at last, breaking the silence that settled over you calmly, although it wasn't an unwelcome break, like a raindrop disturbing the peace of a still lake.

"sometimes. i haven't really slept well ever since i left the arena." you realise this is the first time you're speaking about your experience in the arena with her. the first time speaking about your experience period. you had closed the memories off, pushing them down deep inside you so they could only haunt you in your unguarded sleep. and your family knew better than to ask, they saw what you went through on the big screens, there was no need to remind you of the trauma more than you already were reminded of it everyday.

nayeon lets out a dry chuckle, "that never changes."

your eyebrow raises, you knew close to nothing about the older woman. she never talked about herself or her games, when she was your mentor she was solely focused on helping you survive. and you had never asked.

"... you always seem so... fine though. i don't know how you do it to be honest."

she looks at you then, a sarcastic sort of glint in her eye, "is that what you think of me?"

you gulp, suddenly nervous for whatever reason, "i think that's what most people think of you. i didn't think much of it until i stepped out of that arena too. most people think we can just leave it all behind, enjoy the riches, bringing our families out of poverty, not having to live on scraps of grain everyday, they'd think we'd all look like you. but i'm not."

"i'm not either y'know. i have to put on this face. so that my family doesn't ask how i am. so that the kids i send to die every year think they have a chance of getting out and being as happy as i look."

"even faking it though... it must take so much. i can barely look at the kids without being thrown right back into that arena."

"you never get used to it. y'know the first year after i won, i was so optimistic. i thought, if i could do it, there's no reason anyone else can't do it from our district. and i thought that year they had better chances than me. i was only 15 y'know, when i first started mentoring, not to mention it was the quarter quell so there were twice the tributes i was in charge of. the tributes that year were all 16 or 17, i thought they were older than me, fitter than me, they could win, they really stood a chance. and then i watched them all be cut down in the first few seconds of the cornucopia bloodbath. four people. just like that. dead."

"...i'm sorry."

"don't be. that's just the world we live in right? the only way to survive is to think like the people in the capitol. when you view them as objects, as items of entertainment instead of real, tangible lives, it's a hell of a lot easier to watch them die." there's a somber pause, your mind racing, sorting all this new information you're getting out of her, "not you though." and then your mind's quiet, senses hyperfocused on what nayeon says next.

she sighs, looking back out at the soft orange and yellow hues that start to fill the early morning sky, "i couldn't do it. i couldn't look at you like that. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't- i don't know. you were different. eight years sending 18 kids to die, but you came back."

"i couldn't have done it without you."

her lips turn upwards, just a little, but you catch it, "no. you brought it out of me. turns out when you actually care about who's in the arena instead of treating them like your next poker piece, you work a little harder to make sure they survive."

"but then what if they don't?"

her smile drops again, "i think you'll answer that for yourself after this year's games."

she sighs, standing up, about to leave, but you catch her hand, not even sure what compelled you to grab it. the contact makes both your eyes widen, looking down at where you're touching.

"wait..."

she waits. cocks her head, hand closing around yours in reciprocation.

you struggle to form the thoughts in your mind, too much information for your cognitive load to handle, but eventually one thing comes to the forefront.

"i care about you too."

nayeon smiles, a real smile this time, you can tell because her eyes crinkle, her nose scrunches, cheeks blush, perfect teeth show. you suddenly pull a memory from the depths of your brain, the first time you saw her, when her name was called out at her reaping. she was a small little thing, obviously young and frail, but her smile was just as practiced. except back then she had two large front teeth, it gave the appearance of a freshly born rabbit. you don't question where they've gone, her time in the capitol right before her games likely had her stylists 'fix' her teeth so she was objectively prettier and would attract more sponsors on screen. like cleaning the pigs before sending them to the slaughterhouse. what a broken world you lived in.

»┼)➝

you spend the next few days on the train leading up to the capitol getting to know julian and adeline better, trying to tease out parts of their personality that could be used to appeal to the public, as well as putting them on a basic exercise and meal regime to get them fitter and healthier for the games.

you also spent a lot more time with nayeon, working together to come up with the best plans and routines to put the tributes into, staying up late and studying all you can know about the other contestants that would be in the games, coming up with strategies that could be used once they were in the arena.

the outlandish extravagance of the capitol will never cease to amaze you. and judging by the look on nayeon’s face as you pull in, it seems no matter how many times you return, you will always be reminded of their power and riches over the districts.

you��ve been getting to learn nayeon’s expressions. right now, she’s sporting her fakest, most exaggerated smile for the capitol viewers. you know better though, the anger and disgust in her eyes only able to be interpreted by someone who came from the districts.

she turns to you then, and you blush, feeling caught staring, but she doesn't comment on it, instead brushing her hand past yours lightly, behind the peacekeepers stationed out front for your protection (or to keep you in line), and interlock your fingers where no one else can see. she squeezes gently in reassurance, leaning in to whisper into your ear, "smile y/n. you're the most recent victor, the one they'll remember best, the one they'll be most curious about since her games ended, their attention on you can help bring attention to our tributes who would never normally get this much of a crowd."

she was right. you didn't have time to wallow in the self-pity and hate you held for the capitol when you remember your two mentees from back home, likely terrified and completely overstimulated from their first sight of the capitol, the people coming to welcome them not even looking like they belonged to the same species, all dressed up in absurd colours and materials people in the districts probably slaved days away to manufacture.

you squeeze her hand in return, looking out to the crowd and smiling.

"look for the red dots. those are signs that cameras are currently recording for the rest of the capitol to see."

you follow nayeon's instructions, spotting the small blinking dots and smiling directly at them, waving and trying your best to remove yourself from your body, going into autopilot to not feel the utter abhorrence at being paraded around like a circus monkey.

the crowd becomes impossibly louder at your actions. when you can tell everyone's eyes are on you, you point to your tributes who are standing next to you, looking like newborn foals learning to walk, redirecting their attention.

nayeon gives you a little nod of approval, her hand not leaving yours while you slowly step off the train and follow the peacekeepers towards your transport to the training facilities while making your way through the welcome crowd.

by the time you finally arrive, it's already sundown and you can feel the exhaustion of having put on a face for so long. the tributes are taken away from you to meet their stylists for the first time. you're too tired to offer them any advice but nayeon steps in, still as energetic as she was when the day started.

"do everything the stylists tell you to do. it's gonna feel weird at first and they may even want you to do some things that you won't be comfortable with, but it's all gonna be for your benefit. just remember that they're on your side. they want to make you look like the best version of yourself for the rest of the capitol, and beauty sells. trust me i know."

they nod, thanking you both and being led off by peacekeepers.

you and nayeon are led to your floor where you'll be staying for the remainder of the games. as soon as you're inside you slump down onto the couch, waving off the avoxes that look at each other a little concerned.

"she's okay. just tired. you guys can leave us, we'll call you if we need anything." nayeon offers a polite smile, sitting down much more elegantly next to you.

the avoxes nod their acknowledgement and wander off. poor things.

when you hear that they're gone, you roll over to look at nayeon who's finally taken off her smile, folding her jacket neatly and placing it off to the side.

"you're really good at that."

she looks at you, tilts her head in question.

"you fooled me too. the whole happy polite princess thing you have going on. and you know you're way around. this is my first time back to the capitol since the games. i never thought i'd be back here."

something comes over her eyes, but she brushes it off, smiling at you, a little pained, but before she can reply, one of the avoxes comes back and whispers something into nayeon's ear. her face darkens, and she nods, standing back up.

"i have to go y/n. rest well." it's curt, she doesn't even look you in the eyes, and then she's gone.

you’re left blinking after her, confused at what just happened. did you say something wrong?

»┼)➝

nayeon isn't back even by dinner time. neither are your tributes, although they probably wouldn't be back until the next day, or even the day after. you remember the amount of procedures you'd gone through when you'd arrived. the preparations for the opening ceremony were extremely important for first impressions and they didn't have that much time to fix all the issues you'd grown up with. major plastic surgery was normally the way to go.

so you push the abundance of food around on your plate, thinking about how at home the amount of food you're eating could feed a family of 10. it sickens you. it's the first time since you'd left home that you were really alone. not counting the avoxes positioned behind you that had to attend to your every need. it was almost like you missed nayeon. she was always able to brighten your moods, playing around, even when things were serious she'd make sure nothing ever got too overwhelming for you or for the tributes. she was a veteran.

you sigh, pushing your food away, apetite gone. with nothing else to do, you retire to bed after a shower. maybe the soft mattresses and expensive fabrics designed particularly for sleep would finally grant you a night of good sleep.

it did the exact opposite. the fabric rubs your skin the wrong way, and you're tossing and turning in bed, playing around with the different settings of the window, shuffling your pillows around. you just couldn't find peace.

you yawn, giving up and sliding out of bed. you pad outside your room, intending to get some fresh air. on the train you didn't have that luxury, but you could still see the countryside while it passed. at least now you had a balcony in the main living room. it was caged off in case any of the tributes tried to commit suicide before the actual games, but it was still fresh air.

the cool tiles of the floor feel foreign on the skin of your feet. before you make it to the balcony door, you hear the front door clicking open.

your heart stops, sweat immediately building up on your brow, your body being thrown back into the arena, terrified someone was here to kill you.

your movements are quick, crouching and scrambling towards the couch in silence, grabbing the closest thing you can, the couch blanket. you'd learnt anything can be fashioned into a weapon with the right mindset. the blanket could be used to choke the intruder if it really came to it.

you peek to the side of the couch, holding your breath as soft footsteps pad towards the living room, the only light available is the one in the entry way, overcasting a shadow moving its way closer and closer.

but as soon as it's about to turn the corner, it stops.

you curse internally. did they notice you?

you don't get to form a second thought before a pin is whizzing your way, impaling itself into the couch. you barely have enough time to scramble backwards, the cushion of the couch saving you, but the person is leaping forwards, pushing you down into the floor. you react automatically, struggling against the figure, using the blanket you're clutching onto to latch onto a leg, yanking so they lose their balance, toppling over. you take the opportunity to quickly clamber over them, pulling the blanket to wrap around their neck.

their hands come up immediately, trying to create space between the fabric pulled tight at their throat, gasping in effort.

you finally can assess the intruder. she's wearing a short dress, pale skin exposed, hair pinned up in a clean updo with the same pins that she must have used to throw at you once she noticed your presence. and then suddenly, with horror you realise it's nayeon.

you quickly let her go, scrambling back until your back hits the couch, staring at her as she coughs, trying to catch her breath.

"nayeon!"

she groans, turning, eyes adjusting to the dark, "y/n?"

"oh fuck i'm so sorry i didn't- i thought there was an intruder-"

she massages her throat, letting out a little chuckle when she realises what's happened, "it's okay y/n. i thought the same. sorry for almost impaling you with a hairpin."

you stare at her, still in shock. "what- where have you been- jesus i almost killed you-"

"don't get cocky now. i could've gotten out of that."

you roll your eyes, "i'm serious nayeon. what are you wearing? i'm sorry too." your words are flying out, too many thoughts coming up too fast, but mainly, you're just glad it wasn't some assassin sent to kill you.

she looks down at herself, like she was just remembering she was dressed up. "ugh never mind that. are you okay? you're not hurt are you?"

you shake your head, "you?"

"i'm good don't worry your pretty little self. anyway i'm gonna go take a shower. you should go back to sleep y/n."

you tilt your head, standing up when she does, "but where have you been?"

she starts towards the bedrooms, turning on the hallway light so you can finally see each other, "out." she doesn't look at you when she replies, pulling her dress down so it covers more of herself. you catch a glimpse of the scar on her right thigh right before she covers it, the one she got in her games when someone had slashed her leg. her face is made up, but you notice the mascara running down her face in tear streaks. it's such a surprise it stops you in your tracks. you hadn't seen nayeon cry since that time you were barely conscious and just out of the arena.

"nayeon..."

she pauses, but doesn't turn back to look at you, "what is it?"

"i... you... are you okay?"

nayeon lets out a dry laugh, "i'm fine y/n. you aren't that strong. i just feel really gross and i need to shower. i'll see you in the morning."

before you can stop her she's stepping into her room and closing the door. you frown, she was obviously lying, something had happened while she was out and she wasn't telling you. it was fine if she didn't want to tell you, you just... you cared about her. you owe your life to her. you want to do anything you can to repay her.

so you sit outside her room, it's not like you were going to be able to get any sleep anyway, you'd wait for her to finish her shower and talk to you.

»┼)➝

it's almost an hour before she leaves her room. you sit fiddling your thumbs, thinking up scenarios of what could have possibly happened. nayeon was too good at hiding herself. you wished she'd open herself up. if not to her family, to you, someone who understood what it feels like to be in her position. you were one of a kind, there weren't going to be many district 9 victors after you, there certainly weren't any before her.

when she finally opens her door you scramble up.

she looks down at you surprised, her hands wringing out her hair in a towel, face bare. you're reminded of just how young she was. despite her experience and knowledge of everything, you remember she was just a girl.

she smiles. you're practiced enough that you can tell it's fake.

"what are you doing here y/n?"

"waiting for you."

"i told you to go to sleep."

"i couldn't sleep anyway."

her smile stays as she steps past you, you follow quietly. she turns the kitchen lights on, rummaging around in the fridge for something to eat.

"have you not eaten yet?"

her hands stop moving for a second, "no. not yet."

"where were you?"

she sighs, taking out a takeaway box and moving to the microwave. "i was out y/n. i told you. please stop asking me."

"but why can't you tell me?"

"it's classified."

"what?"

"i can't tell anyone."

"but why?"

"i can't tell you that."

the microwave rings.

"do you not trust me?"

"it's not that."

"then why?"

she sighs again, ripping off the lid of her takeaway box a little roughly, "i just can't tell you y/n. you'll probably find out after this year's games end anyway."

"what is that supposed to mean?"

she whips around then, eyes red, eyebrows furrowed, she's raw and genuine for the first time, too tired to keep concealing herself. "you're not stupid y/n. you're an attractive victor. what do you think happens to attractive victors? where do you think i go when we're back home and i have to leave? i'm certainly not out farming or doing all the regular jobs people back home do."

that takes you back, the pure hurt in her eyes, the way she cowers into herself in just her thin sleeping clothes and bare face. she's so much younger, so much more human without all the flashy smiles and outfits she wears for the capitol.

"i- i don't- i just thought-"

"no. you weren't thinking. you're naïve y/n. you think we have to live with just our traumas from the games. you think there's an end to it all. that once you get over what happened in the arena you'll be able to live a normal life. the life. the life they promised us when they said we'd win the games. well i'm sure living it!" she chuckles darkly, arms flailing out and raising her voice to the ceiling.

"it never ends y/n. all they do is take and take until we're as bare and barren as the farms we take care of."

you blink stupidly, the reality of what she's saying settling in.

"you admire me for how well i lie." she spits the word out, mouth dripping venom and eyes furious, "i lie to survive. everyone does. the capitol lies to us, promising us riches and glory for winning the games. that's why districts like 1 and 2 exist right? why careers fight to volunteer to kill other kids in the arena? i wonder if they'd go back in time and do the same thing once they realise what winning actually means. we're not real to them y/n. we're not humans. we're products. expensive, dolled up, murderers they have on a leash."

she sighs heavily, both hands coming to rake her hair backwards. "i'm sorry. i was meant to be your mentor. i was meant to prepare you for all of this." her voice cracks, you stare at her, mouth agape, processing all this new information, "but i couldn't. i just couldn't. i was so happy when you won. i thought i could protect you from it all."

"w-what do you mean protect me?"

she slumps, her posture giving out, you've never seen her so broken. "they wanted to start you off last year. because you were already 18 when you won." she scoffs, "not that it stopped them from starting me when i was 15. i convinced them to give you a year. i wanted you to know what it felt like to win. to be free of it all, to have your belly full, to be with your family, to be able to live without the fear of not waking up the next day."

you gawk at her in horror, "what did you do nayeon?"

she chuckles darkly again, "i said i'd take your customers. until your year was over."

"you- what?!"

she wipes at her eyes angrily, picking up a spoon and stabbing it into her food, "it's fine y/n. it's not a big deal."

"wha- nayeon- it is a big deal! this- you can't- i'll kill-"

suddenly she's got a hand clamped over your mouth, so close you can see the redness of her eyes, the small freckles that dot her skin. "don't say something you'll regret. they have ears everywhere."

you gulp, nodding, wide-eyed as she lets you go.

"w-what about what you said?"

"i didn't say anything explicit. and you were going to find out soon anyway. your year is almost up."

"what- why haven't you fought back? why have you gone along with this for so long?"

she laughs thickly, "careful. that's rebellion you're talking about."

"but it's not fair! the deal was once we won we won! the only thing we should have to do is become mentors! and even doing that is cruel enough being forced to relive the games each year!"

"there are no limits to how cruel humans can be y/n."

"i- but- but still!"

"i have family. so do you. what do you think happens to them if you say no?"

that makes you pause, thinking back to your parents who worked so hard to bring you and your siblings up. who kept you alive until you were 18. lots of kids weren't that fortunate. many died from starvation, or of the unhygienic circumstances back home.

you collect yourself, taking a breath, nayeon was still inches away from you, studying your reactions. "do they know?" you ask softly.

she sighs, shaking her head, "my mother went through enough when my dad died. even more when i was reaped for the games. she thinks my trips away are just meeting people in the capitol for business ventures or whatever. it makes sense because i always bring back large sums of money. and my sister... i never want her to find out how cruel this world is. it's enough she still has to be entered into the reapings at least once a year, but that'll stop soon when she turns 18. and then i hope to just give her a normal life. she'll never have to worry over me again."

"nayeon..."

she sniffles, "it's fine y/n. worry about yourself. i can't look after you anymore. i'm sorry."

"are you kidding?! nayeon please... i don't- do you not understand what you mean to me? i owe you my life. and now i find out you've been doing this for me for the past year. you don't have to protect me. i can protect myself. i won my games didn't i?" you try for a smile, she gives you a teary one back.

"i just- i never knew nayeon i'm sorry. i'm sorry i didn't know you were going through all this on your own. i wished you'd told me. i wished you wouldn't shoulder all this on your own. we know you're strong. we all saw your games, we know you're capable of survivng. you don't have to keep proving that. you can rely on others every once in a while."

"others like you?" she jokes, smiling up at you.

"yeah. like me. i'm the only other one that can relate. that can understand. i want to be there for you. i told you, i owe you my life, my family's lives. that's a debt i'll never be able to repay. i want to do as much as i can in this lifetime to be there for you."

"you don't have to do that y/n-"

"yes. yes i do. you've been there for me this entire time, without me even knowing. when will you let me do the same for you?"

that gives her pause, she hides under wisps of hair that have fallen down over her forehead.

you ache to brush them away, to cup her cheeks, to see those eyes again.

your wish is granted when she looks up after a second, pupils glassy. and then without another word she's burying herself in the crevice of your neck, arms coming up to wrap around you, taking a shaky inhale. you react just like you had when she had thrown that pin at you, immediately reciprocating, pushing your cheek against hers and circling your arms around her waist.

you stay there for an immeasurable amount of time. unsaid words drifting between you, sharing emotions, pain. nayeon finally feels like she's not alone for the first time since she'd won her games 9 years ago. and you finally feel at peace in her arms, the ghosts that haunted you gone for the moment.

the both of you wound up in nayeon's bed that night. it wasn't awkward, the complete opposite. you naturally gravitated towards her after she finishes eating, and she lets you cling to her. when you fall asleep, limbs entangled and hearts beating in tandem, you'll realise in the morning, it's the first time the both of you will have had a full night's rest without any of your regrets invading your dreams.

»┼)➝

the horn sounds. you grip nayeon's hand as the competitors rush forwards, you try taking in as much of the arena as you could, as if you were standing on the platforms in the arena for the first time again. you were lucky in your games to have been granted fields of tall grass. it obstructed all of the other competitors’ vision and would prove very difficult to hide in, but you were practiced in moving around between blades of wheat that grew up to 2m tall back home without making a sound. this year it seems they took a more traditional approach, the cornucopia is in the middle of the arena as always, plain desert and beating sun the only thing visible. you can make out sand dunes on the far right of the arena. it would be hard to find a water source. your eyes lock onto your tributes, praying they make it through the initial bloodbath. they're not placed in a position they can see each other, in this scenario, you and nayeon had instructed them to run for it. don't bother with the initial bloodbath, the first thing they'd need to find was water.

you breathe a sigh of relief when you see adeline do exactly that. she makes for the dunes you spotted earlier, leaving behind the chaos of the first few minutes. but then the camera pans to julian, seemingly frozen on his platform, completely petrified as he watches the girl from district 8 fall to her knees after someone launches a javelin at her.

"move!" you're extremely tense watching the scene, trying to maintain your composure as you knew you were still in public, the opening of the games was always a big spectacle, all the mentors were situated up in viewing boxes while the capitol watched along on massive screens.

nayeon grips your hand tighter, a warning not to be too loud, to keep on that mask.

you spare a glance at her, her features are tight in concentration, eyes glued to the little figures on the screen.

your head whips back when the crowd suddenly howls. it seems the career pack has formed and has just taken down both the tributes from district 12. it disgusts you how these people can cheer over the deaths of children.

julian has finally started moving though. he leaps off the platform and runs forward.

no. no no no. he needs to run away from the cornucopia. you grit your teeth, he must have seen the deaths of the district 12 tributes and thought the careers would be distracted.

the camera follows as he crouches and dips past ongoing fights, he manages to grab a sword, but that's where his luck ends. the girl from district four is wielding a nasty trident, charging straight for him. he tries to fend her off with his sword, catching it in one of the prongs of the trident, but then with horror, his feet catch on the sand. he hasn't gotten used to the terrain yet. he must have known running on sand was much more difficult than running on regular ground or the concrete of the training grounds. the girl takes the opportunity to yank her trident back, and then jabs it straight into him, all three prongs go through his chest and out the other side. you can see him cough up blood in shock, hands coming up to rest on the handle of the trident, she pushes him down and steps on his stomach to yank her weapon back out, already on the lookout for her next victim.

you can't believe what just happened. you had knew him. you had spoken to him. you had just seen and touched him this morning before he was flown off to the arena. it's completely unreal. the crowd roars with glee.

your mind can't keep up with your eyes. there's no way he was dead. the sounds, senses of the crowd drown out, you stare blankly at the main screen, watching other kids be cut down left and right, kids smaller than your youngest siblings, all while people dressed up in nauseating colours and patterns placed bets and had their children play fight with toy swords and weapons imitating real life people that died for their entertainment.

"y/n- y/n... y/n!" nayeon's shaking you out of your stupor, you blink, looking down at your intertwined hands, her concerned look that's quickly masked with a smile.

"the announcer was just asking you for some comments about the opening." you can see straight through her smile, you've spent much more time together over the past couple weeks while you were preparing your tributes for the games. you didn't explicitly talk about it, but you'd always end up in her bed each night, cuddled up and talking about everything and nothing until you both fell asleep. it was the only way you could sleep these days, and you knew it was the same for her.

you look past her shoulder to see a short man with bright green hair and a matching moustache. he smiles expectantly, teeth all white and glowing, holding out a microphone to you.

nayeon squeezes your hand again, hidden under the tresses of your gowns.

you clear your throat, awkwardly leaning forward and looking into the camera panned towards you, "r-right. um well it's pretty standard from what we can see. my arena last year must have made it difficult to see all the... fighting so it seems they've gone with something a lot more open this year." you try for a joke, earning a boisterous laugh from the man with green hair and from some in the audience who were looking on where your face was projected on one of the smaller screens next to the main livestream.

"we can definitely see all the juicy bits more clearly can't we!"

juicy bits?! is he trying to remind us of the bloody insides of all the kids being slashed open?! what kind of sick joke is it to use those words?! nayeon saves you the outburst, speaking up with a smile and a voice you know she's only ever used when talking to capitol media.

"definitely! and i must say wilbur your moustache is fantastic this year!"

he blushes, twirling the green hair on his upper lip, "thank you nayeon. you're as beautiful as always. and i'm glad to see you're finally accompanied by another victor your age! it must have been very lonely these last few years on your own."

nayeon's hand tightens against you. you want to punch this man in the face.

"yes i'm very glad to have y/n here. we make a fine team don't you think?" she grins. you notice the angrier she is, the more absurd her acting is, almost as if she's testing the limits of just how far she can go before people finally realise she's been sarcastic the entire time.

"of course! 2 fine ladies such as yourselves, you're both a hit in the capitol! i'm sure lots of fellas in the crowd tonight would love to see you two team up another time."

there's an uproar in the crowd, obviously male voices hollering and agreeing with laughter.

you're absolutely revolted at the implication. so you can't stop yourself when the next words fall out of your mouth, "i'm sure you'd know a lot about teaming up wouldn't you wilbur? how many fellas do you have twirled around that moustache of yours?"

nayeon is barely able to conceal a scoff, hiding it as a cough into your shoulder. you smile daringly, all teeth as wilbur stares at you aghast.

he clears his throat, "i'm not quite sure i know what you mean by that y/n."

"oh nothing. just wondering how many balls you have to play with when you do that team sport out here... i don't quite recall the name, it must be something that is only really fashionable out here in the capitol."

"r-right. sports. ahaha! you must have gotten me mixed up with someone else y/n! yes that must be it. everyone here will know i'm not really one for sports." he tries to steer the subject off, his face burning up bright red, with his green hair he looks like a mishappen christmas tree. he moves on quickly after that, going to interview less problematic mentors.

"you shouldn't always let them get away with shit like that nayeon." you frown when the attention is off you again, whispering into her ear.

she shakes her head, "sometimes it's better to let it go than to bring it up. more trouble than it's worth. you did very well though. are you okay? you zoned out a bit back there."

you sigh, running your thumb over hers gently, "yeah. just... wasn't prepared i guess. adeline is still in it though, she's got a decent chance if she manages to find water."

"you can never prepare for this. i'm sorry."

"there's nothing to apologise for. you warned me on the train, about what it's like. nothing compares to the real thing though."

"i know. i'm here for you though okay? i couldn't physically help you in the arena but i can now."

"stop that nayeon. you did more than enough for me in the arena. i told you. i owe you my life."

she smiles. you're taken aback by the genuinity of it. the slightly dimmed lighting, her makeup not too over the top like some of the people you've seen walking around the capitol, but accentuating her already flawless features even better. you knew she was attractive, you'd have to be blind not to. and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of nayeon as something more. you pushed it down though. people like you and nayeon didn't have the luxury of feelings like love.

you quickly break away from her gaze and those perfectly heart-shaped lips, looking back to the aftermath of the opening minutes. but even the grim bloodied bodies littering the floor that you can barely comprehend are real, do little for the blush that dusts your cheeks and the fluttering in your stomach.

»┼)➝

you can tell from the way she's breathing nayeon’s not asleep yet either. one of her arms is draped over your midriff, her breaths lightly hitting the back of your neck, legs entangled with your own.

"you're still awake." you whisper out into the quiet of her bedroom walls.

"so are you."

you don't dare turn to face her, knowing your faces would be centimetres apart, breaths hitting each other's lips, noses almost touching.

"i can't get it out my head. the way the trident just went through him. like he was made of clay."

her voice is soft, careful, "i’ll never forget any of them. not any of my kills.”

“he wasn’t your kill nayeon. the tributes you mentored aren’t your kills.”

“they may as well be. as a mentor, surely i can do something. but every year is the same. i don’t learn. i can’t do anything for them.”

“you helped me survive.”

she sighs, breath tickling the back of your neck, her arms wrap around you just a little tighter. “i told you. you’re different.”

“how?”

“you just are. i don’t know how to explain it.”

“you don’t have to. i… nevermind. still, i don’t think you should think of the tributes we mentor as people we’ve killed. it’s the capitol, everything’s them, that’s the big enemy remember?” your voice is hushed, paranoid they’re listening in somehow but also desperate to soothe nayeon’s worries.

“it doesn’t change what i did. all victors are murderers. we lost our innocence the day our names were pulled out of that bowl.”

“you’re right. we have to live with that. but at least we’re not alone now.” you decide to risk it, turning and shuffling around the bed until your nose to nose. you can feel the blush creeping up your cheeks already, wisps of her hair tickling your face, her eyes shining in the dark.

she stares at you for a little, eyes darting around your face. "you're right. we're not alone now." she speaks in a whisper, breath gently kissing your lips with her words.

you can't help but look down at her slightly parted, heart-shaped lips, her breaths coming in and out softly, luring you in. you're magnetised. the tension between you two is undeniable, thick enough to make you feel almost drowsy, eyes drooping and lidded, only focused on tracing the shape of her lips.

nayeon's the one to break it.

she leans in closer, hand tightening around your waist, closing her eyes and pressing your lips together. it's not sparks or lightning, it's just two mouths moving against one another, finding comfort in one another, it's soft and pure and everything the capitol robbed the two of you of when they turned you into murderers.

but then it's not. there's a salty tinge to her, the taste of tears. you open your eyes slowly, breaking away from her, she takes the opportunity to inhale shakily.

"nayeon?" you frown, immediately concerned you've overstepped.

she hides her face in your neck, squeezing herself against you.

"hey... what happened? what's wrong?"

"we- w-we can't." her voice is wobbly, there are still tears dripping down her face.

your heart sinks, "we can't?"

"i'm- i can't- i'm a product y/n. you'll become one too. i can't- i can't lose you too."

"but- you won't lose me."

"you don't know that y/n. you don't know what the capitol is capable of. if they find out we're- if they find out we care for each other like that they'll tear us apart. we can never have what normal people have."

"but that won't stop me from caring for you! and i know that's not going to stop you either."

"but when- i don’t- when they start selling you off i don’t know how i’ll be able to- to not kill them all."

you bring a hand up to her cheek, forcing her to look at you, thumb swiping across the skin under her eye, wiping off her tears, "i know. i don't know how i'll be able to do it either. but you're worth it. i haven't felt- i haven't felt this understood, i've spent so long thinking i'm alone, that i'll have to spend the rest of my life like this, but you make me feel happy. after all we've been through don't you think we deserve that?"

"but- but- they can't know y/n- they can't take you away from me."

"and they won't. i promise. do you trust me?"

nayeon stares up at you, her eyes shining, lip wobbly. she bites down into it after a second, breathing out a small "yes."

"i trust you too. anything they throw at us, we'll take it together. okay?"

she sighs, nodding, bringing a shaky hand up to feel you, just to make sure you were real, that she wasn't conjuring all this up to cope with her trauma. you lean into her touch, hand coming up to grip her wrist and squeeze, leaning in and touching your nose against hers, feeling safer than you've ever felt in your entire life.

»┼)➝

the next day is more of the same. at least this time you're not in a display box so you can have genuine reactions and you can be close to nayeon in the privacy of your own floor, finding comfort in her arms and words.

you spend the morning cuddled up, choosing to eat breakfast on the couch while the livestream of the arena plays. when there's nothing interesting going on they have live coverage of news anchors and commentators reacting to replays and talking about what happened during the night that the audience may have missed while they were asleep. adeline hasn't been seen on screen much but you know she's still alive and has found a small alcove in the desert with cacti that she can cut open to drink water from. still, you know it won't last her and nayeon and you plan on going out during lunch when most of the capitol citizens will be out and about to start finding sponsors to send water or food to adeline in the arena.

by the time you're in the city you come to realise just how good nayeon is at networking. you trail behind her like a lost puppy while she greets extravagantly overdressed citizens of the upper circle with a bright smile, compliments, and sparkling eyes. she seems to understand that you're much newer at this so she brings you along as a prop of sorts, convincing new and old sponsors to sponsor district 9 once again, after all, the most recent victor did come from district 9, and adeline was tutored by you with the most recent experience winning which made her someone to look out for in the later days of the games.

there are lots more people that recognise than you think, colours and materials you've never seen or felt before invading your senses, fake voices and compliments trying to get on your good side, you can simply smile and try your best to keep up.

eventually, you're seperated from nayeon when a short man engages you in a conversation about hair products and how you got yours to be so shiny and natural, you only nod along while he talks your ear off about different products and chemicals he's tried on his orange mess of a flat top, you can only provide clueless agreements and your simple hair routine back home. but you manage to steer the conversation back to the games and actually manage to get him to donate something as long as he gets the name of the random shampoo brand you use back home.

once you wave him off, you excitedly look around for nayeon, eager to tell her about your first donation that you managed all on your own. but as you scan the square, you can’t seem to catch sight of her.

you frown, wandering around a little until you spot her, hidden away in the shadows behind a few pillars. your eyes light up, almost skipping over to her until you realise she’s with someone else.

“stop- no i don’t want to-“

“c’mon you want sponsors don’t you? i’ll give you double what your highest donation is if you come now-“

“no! i’m not rostered on right now you can’t just- you can’t approach me in public like this-“

“no one saw us sweetheart c’monnn if we go now we can leave quietly. besides i saw your other victor and she’s doing alright on her own, she won’t even notice you’re gone.”

the man she’s with is gripping nayeon’s forearm harshly, when he starts pulling her away you step in, clearing your throat, eyes flaring up. “i did notice she was gone actually.”

nayeon whips her head around to you, but you can barely see her, your gaze is fixed on the way he still has his fingers wrapped around her, squeezing so tight her skin is white around his fingers.

your eyes trail up to his face when he laughs, not letting go of nayeon, “oh! y/n right? don’t worry nayeon and i are good friends. i’m just gonna borrow her for a bit yeah?”

you step forward, an arm sliding around nayeon’s waist protectively, glaring up into his blue eyes and perfectly sculpted nose, “is that true nayeon?” you don’t back down from his sleazy gaze while you direct the question to the older woman.

his eyes flick over to her, a warning in his eyes.

“i-it’s okay y/n i can handle this just go back to the square.”

you frown, unwilling to let her go, “no.”

the man raises an eyebrow, “you two a package deal now or something?”

nayeon bristles then, yanking her arm away from him, “don’t fucking touch her.”

the man backs up, surprised, “woah! calm down bunny i was just joking around.”

nayeon flushes at the nickname, “whatever josh. i told you i’m not rostered right now. book me in for when i’m actually available.”

“and her?” he smirks, nodding his head to you.

she grits her teeth, “take it up with your agent. don’t contact me outside again or i’ll make sure you won’t be able to buy any one of us.”

she doesn’t wait for him to respond, pulling you away and back into the main area.

you’re quiet, processing the information you just learnt. she doesn’t look at you, eyebrows furrowed, hand tight against yours.

“… was that one of your customers?”

she sighs, “yeah. one of my pushier ones.”

“i’m sorry.”

“what for? he pays well.” she spits out, storming back to your accommodation, deciding socialising for the day is done, she had collected enough donations today.

“i’m sorry you have to deal with him.”

“it’s not your fault.” she says simply, pulling you into the elevator and punching in your floor number.

you ascend silently, fiddling with your fingers, unsure of what else to say.

when you arrive, your fingers are still interlaced with hers, but she relaxes as soon as you step in, letting her mask drop.

“you did really well today.”

she smiles at you then, “thank you. i saw you grab that last donation too. adeline will be happy.”

you step closer to her, tentative and shy, her eyes crinkle at the sight. “thank you.”

“what for?”

you step closer again, swinging your intertwined hands slightly, “protecting me all that time.”

her hand tightens against yours.

“can you actually do that? stop him from using your… services?”

she snorts, “no. but he doesn’t know that. all he thinks about is his dick anyway, any danger to that and he’ll back off.”

“do they ever hurt you?”

her eyes soften, looking into yours, searching. “sometimes. sometimes it gives them pleasure. other times they like to take out their anger on us. maybe they’ve had a bad day or they’ve had a fight with their spouse at home or whatever else. they don’t need an excuse to treat us however they like.”

“that’s terrible.”

“it’s the world we live in.”

“what if we… what if we were a package deal?”

she raises an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

“if they had to book us together. it’d make me feel better, if i could protect you somehow while we’re in there. that you have someone else there in case anything extreme happens. and…” you blush, thinking over your next words, “i know i have to… share you, but at least this way i can see what others do to you, so i still have some semblance of control over the situation.”

nayeon hums, pulling you in by the waist so you're no longer awkwardly hovering around her trying to think of how to get closer to her, "i can ask. that's a good idea y/n. and i'm sure lots of people would love to see two pretty girls getting it on." she jokes.

you blush, looping your arms around her neck loosely, playing with the hair at the back of her neck that has come out of her updo, "i don't- i've never- y'know..."

there's a hint of a smirk on her face, you're avoiding her gaze, "you've never...?"

you whine, knowing she's teasing you on purpose, pushing her away from you but she laughs, pulling you back into her and pecking you gently, "do you want to? there's no rush. i'm worried we may be taking things a bit fast but as long as you're comfortable i'm okay with whatever."

you look at her determinedly, "i don't think we can move too fast. i think we should take whatever we can get while things are good before the capitol tries to break us apart. i want to be with you, all of you, for as long as you'll let me."

nayeon smiles, leaning her forehead against yours, "i want to be with you for as long as you'll let me as well."

you reciprocate her smile, leaning in and pressing your lips against hers, hesitant, but loving. she responds immediately, one hand remaining at your waist and another coming up to rest on the crevice of your neck. you move easily against each other, it's comfortable, safe, you're both on the same wavelength, and nayeon treats you with utmost respect and adoration, ensuring you felt just as loved as she felt, keeping you grounded and at-home in her arms.

»┼)➝

it's another few days before something big happens. nayeon and you spend every minute wrapped up in one another, basking in the comfort and excitement of something new yet reminiscent of innocent, purer times.

that shatters completely when it gets to day 6 of the games.

adeline has managed to survive this long without coming into real contact with any of the other surviving tributes. nayeon has done most of the brunt work in receiving sponsorships and donations which you use strategically to lead adeline towards water sources or away from enemy tributes that may be nearing her location.

however, it seems the gamemakers had had enough of her cat and mouse game by the time there are only 5 tributes left, adeline, the boy from district 1, the two from district 2, and the girl from district 11 who managed to create her own water and food source in the barely repairable soil, turning it into her own farm using knowledge from her home district.

it was nearing the finale, and everyone in the audience knew it. the anticipation would put pressure on the gamemakers to bring out their final tricks, to lure all the tributes into one location to fight it out to the end.

that trick turned out to be a sandstorm in the night, blinding all the tributes, throwing off coordinates, destroying the girl from 11's farm, and forcing all the contestants to stumble blindly in the dark while the storm whipped around them harshly, sand cutting into skin and drying up lips while the cold chill of the desert night only made it even more difficult to find one's senses.

the girl from district 2 was smart, she used the sandstorm and her teammates' confusion to her advantage, taking the chance to stab the boy from 1, making him think it was the boy from 2, and letting them fight it out while she ran off, abandoning the career alliance that was inevitably going to break down towards the end of the games anyway. the boy from 2 ends up being able to defend himself well enough to deliver the finishing blow on the boy from 1, but he sustained fatal injuries in the process and died slowly and painfully in the storm while the sand lapped at his open wounds and his mouth gasped for water through mouthfuls of sand, wishing he was the one who was killed first.

when the storm finally dies down, the audience can see the carnage it has wrecked on the arena, three girls left, all within a 20 minute radius of one another. if it wasn't clear this was the endgame, it was definitely clear now.

the entire topography has been shifted, everything is now covered in sand. there would be no food, no water, the girls would either starve or thirst to death first in which case it would be a test of endurance, or find each other first and win the games to end their own form of suffering in living in this unlivable arena.

the girl from 11 seemed to want to take the former approach, burrowing herself under dunes of sand, digging for her farm and hoping the desert heat and lack of water would mirage her location into regular sand dunes while she hid until the final 2. the girl from 2 is set on the latter, going on the prowl immediately to find the remaining two contestants and claim her victory.

unfortunately for adeline, because the girl from 11 hid herself so well, it meant she came into contact with the girl from 2 first.

she puts up a good fight. everyone in the capitol is on the edge of their seats. as soon as the storm had cleared, nayeon and you had immediately sent adeline some supplies, water, a basic first-aid kit to tend to the wounds she had received earlier in the games, anything to let her know you were both still watching and keeping an eye on her, that she wasn't alone despite the immense loneliness and hopelessness she must have felt living in the desert for the last 6 days.

but even that wasn't enough to deal with the mental pressure of being in that situation for so long, thinking you actually have a chance of winning, of going home, she let her guard down, openly gulping down water while the girl from 2 crept up behind her.

adeline reacts just in time, throwing her bottle away and picking up the sword she had retrieved off a dead tribute's body earlier on in the game, swiping blindly in order to create some distance.

she manages to find her footing, standing on both legs, eyes zeroing in on her opponent who has already started lunging forward with her next attack. her weapon is longer, able to reach further, but adeline is tall and gifted with long limbs, able to maneuver herself out of the way before getting impaled by the pointy end of a spear, whipping around quickly to slice a deep cut in the girl's arm while it's still outstretched holding the spear.

the girl yelps out in pain, but quickly recovers, switching the spear to her non-dominant hand, jabbing forward without missing a beat, gritting her teeth in effort.

the crowd in the captiol is cheering, throwing popcorn, placing last minute bets, rowdier than ever after they couldn't clearly see the fight between the boys from districts 1 and 2 because the sandstorm had lowered visibility on the cameras. now, they could see every parry, every stab, every drop of blood that’s splattered onto hot, golden sand. the pure bloodlust is nonsensical.

adeline manages to block off each advance, but there's simply nowhere left to run or hide, everything that could be used has been covered by sand, there's only acres and acres of desert. so it makes sense when she loses her footing on the loose grains, falling onto her back and losing grip of her sword. the girl from 2 is quick to kick it away and out of reach, and adeline is tired, thirsty, and near delusional from being in the heat and arena for so long, that the ripping squelch that sounds out on speakers across the country as the girl from 2 shoves the end of her spear into adeline's chest, comes almost as a blessing, ending her pain at last.

the gamemakers are able to lure the girl from two to the girl from 11's hiding spot after that, and the final battle ensues, the girl from 2 rising up on top, bloodied and battered but grinning with the glee and pride only those in the career districts could have after killing and coming out on top over 23 other children.

you barely have time to mourn adeline's death, you and nayeon are both thrusted into interviews immediately, forced to watch replays and close-ups of the killing, to watch the life drain out of adeline’s eyes over and over again, asked for comments and messages to send back home, to congratulate the winner on becoming one of you, a murderer.

and even worse, when the day’s finally over and you can retire to your safe space in your apartment for your last night there, nayeon is called out for a premium customer, someone paying triple the normal fare to spend one more night with her before she goes back to her district. so you're left alone, watching repeated news coverage of the hunger games from start to finish, dolled up 'scientists' and gamemakers being brought on for interviews and time to analyse kills and strategies the tributes used, milking every drop of profit and entertainment out of the deaths of children not their own.

you'd watch something else but every channel on capitol television is talking about the end of the games, you switch every time your face, or your post-games interview comes up, cringing at the way you looked and spoke, feeling as if you betrayed your district for dishonouring adeline and julian's deaths by dragging them out for the enjoyment of people who never cared for them, wanting desperately to go home and find their parents and offer your condolences, and maybe sneak some of your victor rations to their families so they at least didn't have to worry about another death. you were determined to take care of all of your mentee's families, you know it's what you would've wanted if you had died in that arena.

by the time nayeon comes back, you've already settled in her bed, cuddled up on her side and taking in the scent she's left behind, the tv still playing in her room at a low volume.

you sit up immediately when you hear her come into the room, closing the door softly behind her. she looks at you and smiles defeatedly. "you look cute."

you blush, burrowing into her sheets more which only serves to widen the smile on her face, "are you okay?" you ask.

"i need a shower."

she doesn't say anything else. you remember the last time she came home this late, not having eaten anything and only wanting to get rid of the feeling of another person's hands on her body off of her. you nod, shy, letting her walk around collecting clothes and heading into the bathroom.

she doesn't bother closing the door. you appreciate the gesture. it's a dramatic change from the first time she had locked you outside her room unknowingly, to think she trusts you enough to leave the door unlocked in her most vulnerable state warms your heart. you hate the capitol for what they've done to her, what they'll continue to do to her. at least this was the last time she would have to do it alone, she had talked to higher ups in the capitol and gotten president snow himself to agree to your proposition, you'd hope your presence would at least ease some of the tension she felt during those sessions.

you hear the shower turn on, and you hesitate, thinking over your next moves carefully.

after some deliberation, you quietly move off her bed, padding to the bathroom and stripping off the pyjamas you had already put on when you were getting ready for bed.

you stand outside the fogged up door for a second, admiring her silhouette, but soon grow cold, opening the door gently and announcing your presence to not frighten her.

she turns, surprised, bar of soap in her hand, hair wet and squinting at you without her glasses or contacts on. she's adorable.

"y/n?"

"hi... is it okay if i join you?" your arms bracket your chest, suddenly shy even though she's seen all of you already.

she smiles, pulling you in under the stream of hot water, "of course. i'm sorry i'm not really feeling up to doing anything today-"

"no! i didn't- no i didn't come in with that intention i just... wanted to help you get clean."

she blinks up at you, water still running over her face and hair, and then she pulls you down into a wet kiss, arms still holding onto yours as you kiss her back sweetly.

you break away first, smiling and nudging your nose against hers, "turn around, i'll do your back first."

she follows, bending her neck down so the water doesn't get in her eyes, handing you the bar of soap she was holding.

you lather her back up, caressing the small scars and moles you had memorised. you had asked the story of each one, and nayeon had told you. your heart broke with each scar, most of them from her games, but some of them from rougher times with clients, others from when she was even younger, working the fields and factories back home. there were more from when she was young, but most of them were surgically removed or fixed when she was first fitted for her games, her stylists wanted her to look as young and as pure as her age suggested, hoping to entice sponsors either out of pity or admiration.

you rub her shoulders, work the knots in her back while you wash her, feel her relax under your touch.

when you get to her right thigh, you're extremely careful, and nayeon takes notice.

"it's okay. it doesn't hurt anymore."

you frown, rubbing gently over the largest scar on her body, the one she covered up most often and got in her finale fight in the games. "i know. i still want to be careful though."

she smiles, pecking your cheek while you concentrate on cleaning her to the best of your ability. she had opened up about how disgusted she would feel in her own body after she would come back from sessions with her clients, often spending an hour or more scrubbing away at her skin until it was red and irritated and hurt to continue before she finally felt clean. you were determined to make her feel loved, feel safe in her own skin, and do so without hurting her.

when you finally come out of the shower, you're quick to wrap her up in a towel first, patting the rest of her down dry and sitting her down on a stool, grabbing the hair dryer and brush.

she scolds you in the process, telling you you'll catch a cold if you don't dry yourself off first. you pout but do as she says, quickly drying yourself off and slipping into your pyjamas again.

then your hands are back at her hair, combing through gently with your fingers first, before turning on the hair dryer.

she watches you with a smile, her eyes crinkling upwards at the way your eyebrows furrow in concentration, drying each part of her head with meticulous attention.

when it's just slightly damp you turn it off, placing it back down and start to brush through her hair, wincing and apologising with each knot you work through. nayeon giggles, constantly reassuring you it was fine with each apology, but her reassurances do little to quell your concern.

it's quiet, peaceful in the bathroom, just the two of you.

"my mother used to do this for me when i was young."

"mine too."

"it feels nice."

"i'm glad."

"are you ready to go back?"

"as long as i have you."

"you'll always have me."

you meet her eyes in the mirror, "will your mother be okay with this?"

"you brushing my hair?" she jokes.

you whine, "you know what i meant. us."

she smiles, "yes. both my mother and my sister only want to see me happy. they know how much the games affected me, they're just glad i'm still alive."

"mine too." you repeat.

"…even if they weren't, you know i wouldn't stop wanting to be with you right?"

you blush again, easily affected by her, "i know."

she nods, satisfied, the both of you falling into an easy silence again.

you think this isn't too bad. living out the rest of your life with nayeon like this. she helped you forget all the bad stuff, but also reminded you of all the things you've been through together, you healed each other. in no other universe, no other situation, no other time, would you be able to find this kind of love with nayeon, and that little special thing the both of you share, it makes everything you've gone through and will go through a little more bearable.

[st6rrrs]

Could you please maybe do a Theodore Nott fic where he’s ghost face?

DONT MAKE A NOISE || GHOST FACE THEODORE X FEM READER

summary: there has been murders around Hogwarts recently, People say they have seen a person in a ghost mask, you would have never expected the person behind it al.

warnings: smut 18+, unprotected sex, dubcon?, blood, murder, violence, hair yanking, cursing, oral sex(m receiving), etc..

a/n: this is my first time writing something like this, im sorry if this is bad. short! rushed

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ' -

"Theo what if this ghostface person comes after you or me?" you sigh "im scared."

people have reported seeing a person in all black wearing a ghost mask. This person has already killed 4 people and you were scared that you and your best friend theo would be next.

"Dont worry i wont let anyone hurt you, ever."

you asked theo if he could sleep in your dorm room tonight because your roommate was with her boyfriend and you didn't want to sleep alone. You and theo were cuddling on your bed but you fell asleep..

you awaken due to the loud thunder storms and rain outside you look over to check on theo but hes gone?

"theo?" you immediately get up to see if he's still here but it was to dark. You get up to turn on the lights but they wouldn't turn on, maybe the power was out due to the storm.

you go to grab your phone on the nightstand and check the time 2:58am.

you were about to text theo but you see his phone on the nightstand also so decide your gonna go look for him because this isn't like him.

you go to the flash on your phone and turn it on

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ' -

"theo! are you out here?"

you been out here for a while looking for him, you were just about to turn back around and go back to your dorm but thats when u heard something, you get goosebumps.

you turn the corner and you immediately go pale. You see a dead boy on the floor with blood all over him and stab wounds, above him was that ghostface mask staring at you. the boy on the ground didn't look like theo thank god

you drop your phone and run as fast as you can to your dorm. right when your at your door you get pushed inside and hit your head on the wall. you groan out in pain and you feel something dripping down your head you go to touch it and its red.

you hear the door lock and suddenly you feel the ghostface grab you by your hair forcing you too your knees.

"please dont hurt me" you sobbed

he didn't respond all he did was unbuckle his pants that had blood all over them and pulled them down. You could see his hard on thru his boxers, you sobbed even more knowing what was bound to happen.

he released himself from his boxers his cock hitting your cheek. he then put a knife to your throat pushing it into your skin making you whine.

he opened your mouth with his fingers and forced his cock into your mouth moving your head back and forth stretching your mouth out.

you repeatedly gag on his cock, tears running down your cheeks. You drooled in the corner of your lips. His fingers raked through your hair Pulling at it as he thrusted into your mouth hitting the back of your throat. you feel him twitch in your mouth knowing he's close.

he releases in your mouth with a loud groan. He takes his cock out your mouth and covers your mouth with your hand and squeezes your nose shut so he can make sure you swallow.

you ended up swallowing because you couldn't breath. he grabbed your wrist and pushed you onto the bed and he gets on top of you the mask staring you in the face.

you feel weak from the amount of blood you lost when u hit that wall

your barely awake when u feel him take your shorts off and then pull your panties down your legs. He then rubs his cock through your folds and pushes himself into you and all you could do was lay there and take it.

"no stop" you moaned out trying to push him off but he just grabs your wrist together and pins them above your head slowly thrusting into you, he groans while speeding up.

hes thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace now, Your eyes were shut tight

"dont close your eyes on me now" he whispers in your ear while pounding into you, you realize that's the first thing he said to you all night.

"your taking my cock so well" he groans in your ear "so fucking tight"

He sounds familiar?

you feel that pit in your stomach that you shouldn't be having but your body betrays you.

your body tensing and toes curling as you come undone around him

he pulls himself back once more slamming himself inside of you while his dick twitches inside of you. you feel his cum shooting inside of you.

before he had a chance to stop you, you grab a hold of his mask and you pull it off...

this was rushed.

taglist

@bbsxsaa @xxbutdaddyilovehimxx @drewstarkeyslut @stvrkey @blondbrat @sevenwivesofrafecameron @tracymbcm

[girlystories]

Two sides on the same coin

— pairings: Joseph Descamps x ex-rebellious reader

summary: you get expelled from your all girls school after an incident you get yourself into. cutting all ties with your troublesome friends, your parents send you to voltaire lycée in hopes you change your ways. an annoying prick, though, gets in the way of that, making you constantly on the verge of breaking your promise to your parents.

additional warnings: underage smoking, usage of foul language, mention of boobs ig?

authors note: very creative chapter title, ik. also really sorry for this late update, but i honestly don't haven't any excuse. it's finally here so I hope you enjoy. also i added a character from another movie cuz i can.

words: 3.9k

Chapter 1: The bastard with the dumb glasses

[Name] [Last Name] certainly wasn't expecting her first day to occur like this.

She fell down on her knees next to the wounded boy, who held on his left eye. He was whimpering in pain, making it obvious the punch he took to the face was serious.

Placing a hand on his back, she tried to receive any attention from him. She called out his name but didn't get an answer. Blood was dripping from between his fingers and his groaning increased before she was pulled away from him.

...

Lumière Lycée was nothing but a memory now, all what happened there only for the driven girl to want go remember, whenever she even wanted to. If she wanted to. She couldn't lie to herself and say it was a good time. On the contrary, it was a living hell for her. It wasn't a catholic school, but it was somehow aiming towards it.

She'd gotten in trouble one, two, three, or more times. Times she couldn't even keep track of.

Not that it even mattered now. No one would know of her past, her previous troublesome and somewhat rebellious nature in a place for her old school and only herself. It was a year ago from now, certainly she'd have changed from then. Or, in better words, she wanted to mask it deep inside. She promised it to her parents.

Moving schools meant moving overall, but she was sure she'd get used to the new environment sooner or later. Voltaire Lycée, the only academy daring to take things further and expand into a mixed school containing both boys and girls. Such a big change, things were seemingly passing so fast. It was the only thing the newspapers and radio were discussing about all day long for the past three days.

She was now brushing her hair, styling it while in her bathrobe. She added a small touch of makeup on her lashes, in a effort not to seem as tired from sleeping late the earlier day. Her anxiety forbid her from it. To bring some sort of color to her lips, she applied some chapstick. She didn't want to impress anybody, but didn't want to stand out by appearing like some sort of messy girl. That'd make a horrible impression. She opted to blend in with everybody else, which wasn't as easy since she was expected as one of the other few new girls. She'd stand out either way. How many girls would even attend that school anyway?

Either way, she hoped for a change. From having more than fifty absences, five to nine out of twelve marks, constantly snapping at her other classmates and breaking into fights, to becoming a lady with a future ahead of her.

There was a knock on her bedroom door, "[Name]," a soft voice called from behind it, "are you ready yet? Your father could give you a ride to school."

"No, it's okay," she got up from her chair, giving a last look at herself from her mirror. "I'd lather walk on my first day."

Her mother nodded and left without a word, leaving her to finish in getting ready.

[Name] opened her wardrobe, inspecting her clothes and in the end decided upon a matching set of a top and short skirt that she tried out the day before. Before leaving her room she wore her pair of Mary-Jane's.

She headed to her kitchen, where her parents were already awake, eating their breakfast before work. She took a seat and took a sip of her prepared coffe. "Good morning," she said.

Her father swallowed his own coffe before speaking, "Good morning. How do you feel about your new school?"

"Rather anxious."

"No wonder," her mother said. "A mixed school? It's a much troublesome shift from what we're used too. Wouldn't you agree, dear?"

Her dad finished his coffe, placing his mug down. "Well, we do what we can do. If only you would behave, [Name]."

"[Father name], " her mother glanced at him with knotted brows. "Don't start again."

He ignored her warnings, "Now make sure to get your shit together or else things will be really complicated. I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart."

"I know," [Name] simply said.

Her mother still kept an eye on her husband and sighed, turning her attention at her daughter. "Now you have a nice day, okay? Be home right after school or if you want stop by the bakery."

[Name] finished her butter bread, taking her bag as she got up and went to the front door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she got interrupted. Internally groaning, she went back and kissed her parents on the cheek.

"Alright, bye," she finally said and left.

Since it was still early, she stopped at her neighborhood supermarket to buy herself a pack of Gauloises, thanking the owner and lighting one while on her way. Just then she realized she didn't know the way.

Minutes later she regretted not accepting her parents' offer to drive her to school. Cursing under her breath at her possibility of being late on her first day, she kept her fast pase as she took a turn on the street she thought the school was located.

To her utter luck, she was right. When she noticed the front gate inspector closing the door she jogged there yelling for him stop. He rose his head towards her, earning his attention.

He threw his cigarette, chuckling softly. "Lucky for you, it's your first day, miss, otherwise I'd have left you locked outside," he said and opened the gate for her.

"Sorry, it won't happen again..." she breathed out.

"Well, they haven't made their way inside. Mr. Belanger is giving a speech."

"Thanks," she said and walked hurrily where everyone stood.

On top of the building's stairs stood the school staff, the students surprisingly listening from bellow. She shoved herself between the crowd to catch a word he was saying.

"-Gentlemen, I expect you to...to be as polite, respectful, magnanimous and dignified as I know you can...when on your best behavior."

"Who is that?" she asked herself.

"The school's Dean," she wasn't really expecting an answer, yet a guy replied from beside her.

She nodded at him, staying silent for a moment before talking again. "Damn, I don't even know in what class I am."

"Don't worry. They'll call your name anyway."

Just then, a woman walked forward, holding a sheet or paper. "I'll now be calling the first-year's, then proceed the second year's due to the addition of female students."

"Just like that," he smirked and Mr. Bluebeard began reading the paper.

[Name] breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good. Because I was afraid of almost getting detention from being late."

He let out a laugh, "On your first day? There's no way a person could achieve that record. Not even me. I can assure you I've tried. I don't think you get detention from being late."

"No," she said. "I said almost. Wait, what do you mean y-"

The call of her name interrupted her question.

"That's your name, right? Seems like you're in class 1B."

"Oh, yeah," she said looking as some other students walked up the starts when their names were called. "See you."

She took a seat behind two girls, and as she did so smiled at them when they seemed to acknowledged her. Little by little everyone gathered in class, each taking their seats.

The woman that was calling out the students from before walked in. "I am Mrs. Giraud, your homeroom teacher."

Then, a girl with blonde hair entered the class, eyeing the empty seats anxiously. She had her hair styled with a headband that matched her dress which was beautifully complimenting her figure. It was no surprise everyone was looking at her with either admiration or a tint of desire.

She took a seat at a desk in the front, and [Name] felt somehow disappointed she didn't choose to sit next to her instead.

Mrs. Giraud noticed her gesture. "What's your name miss?"

She got up from her seat, holding her hands together politely. "Annick Sabiani."

"Where do you think you are, miss Sabiani?"

She didn't get enough time to respond at her question.

"Do you think it's okay to sit next to a boy?" she asked sternly. "Get your things."

She began doing so, but Mrs. Giraud interrupted her again. "No. You," she pointed towards the boy next to her. He looked at her for a moment and she continued, "Get up. Go sit in the back."

"But I can't see from there."

"Back row, now," she then looked at [Name], realizing she failed in noticing her presence before. "And what's your name, miss?"

She got up, awkwardly looking around the class and trying to ignore the stares. "[Name] [Last name]."

"You sit in the front."

She gathered her bag and did as she was told, still feeling the stares accompanied with whistling sounds and whispers. The boy tried to do the same, but someone put his foot in the way. That made him trip and almost fall, the group of boys laughing and making pig noises. "It's not your day, piggy."

The teacher did nothing about it, only complaining about being interrupted. "Quiet! As I was saying... Mrs. Giraud, with a "D" as in "discipline.""

[Name] wasn't listening what she was saying anymore, glancing at the person who was at fault of tripping the poor guy. He was grinning at his friend beside him, finding it wholehearted hilarious, like it was comedy gold. He fixed his glasses before he pretending he was paying attention to Mrs. Giraud. Instead he wrote a note and showed it next to him, the duo starting cackling quietly.

Next period was Latin, where she was met with Mr. Douillard. She ultimately ended up not having a really good idea about him, earning already a bad impression by him ignoring the girls when they raised their hand. She grew more and more annoyed when he pretended not to noticed her and she just stopped trying. Sabiani did not back down, though. Still, Mr. Douillard picked the only guy that had raised his hand.

"I think she raised her hand," the same guy with the glasses pointed out in a snarky tone. He pressed his lips together to hold himself from laughing.

Much to the teachers dismay of having to pick a girl student, he side-eyed Sabiani. "Indeed. So?"

She pushed her chair back, fixing her dress. "The Romans welcome Horatio with joy and congratulations and escort him to his house."

"The Romans "cheer" Horatio," he corrected, obviously not wanting to lower to the level of ever praising a girl, wanting to dismiss their existence entirely. "Can you conjugate the verb "ovare"?"

As Sabiani was answering, [Name] noticed the guy from before writing something on a paper, giving it to the person next to him and whispering something. The note was passed down until the teacher noticed.

"Give me that," he ordered, interrupting Sabiani.

The poor guy sighed and stood up walking up to the teacher and handing the note. From where [Name] sat she couldn't see anything but by the expression of Mr. Douillard she could tell it wasn't good.

The unlucky person sighed and stood up walking up to the teacher and handing the note. [Name] knew of him. He was Alain Laubrac, a guy who happened to be in the same gang she used to hang out last year. She stopped hanging out with them after her expulsion, when she was grounded all summer, cutting all ties with them thankfully. She hadn't spoke to him since like the rest. From where she sat she couldn't see anything but by the expression of Mr. Douillard she could tell it wasn't good.

"Think this is funny?"

"It wasn't me."

"Who is responsible for this masterpiece?"

No answer. The guy who drew it pretended he didn't know a thing, placing his pen under his bottom lip.

"Your name?"

"It wasn't me," Alain repeated.

"'It wasn't me'," Mr. Douillard sighed, "All culprits have the same name. They must be related. Okay, Mr. 'It wasn't me'...'"

"My name is Laubrac," he corrected.

"Are you the boy from the foster care?"

The whole class chuckled at that.

"Some nobody's son's trying to graduate? How amusing. Didn't anyone teach you discipline in the care system? I won't let a bastard disrupt my class. Get out."

"But he didn't do anything!" a girl with blond pigtails protested.

"Nobody taught you to raise your hand in your girls' school, Miss Magnan? Or maybe you think you have a free pass because your uncle is the Dean," the teacher mocked, hitting the paper on his palm. "Escort your new friend to your uncle's office. He'll give you detention too."

They both left the room with their heads low, the class filled with silence.

[Name] bit the inside of her mouth, raising a hand.

"Yes, miss?" the teacher complained.

"With all due respect, sir, but you're being really unfair," she said. Mr. Douillard was taked aback and she continued before he interrupted. "It was Picasso over there who did it," she eyed the glasses-guy from the back.

The smile he wore dissappeared, now glaring at her and preparing to argue something back.

"You've got a nerve talking to me like that, miss [Last Name]," the teacher said. "Don't think I haven't been informed of your performance in your past school. I'm not afraid to get you expelled here too."

The class suddenly filled with murmurs.

"Unless you want detention as well I advice you to sit back down."

She looked down and without having anything else to say she sat on her chair. Her grip on her pen tightened when she looked back and seeing the guy still stare at her, slowly forming a winning smirk.

Bastard, she thought.

Finally lunch came, and she exhaled a sigh of relief as she stood up from her seat, an instant need to stretch her body overtaking her. She only wanted to smoke as soon as possible, the necessity of nicotine calling out to her from not being present for a while. She closed her notebook and walked out the classroom as soon as there was space for her to walk through the students.

She walked down the big row of starts, avoiding in pushing the boy in front of her, but still having trouble keeping her patience.

Just as she was about to turn a corner she felt her face being hit with a flat surface, being jolted back.

"Woah, what's the rush?" she felt an arm on her shoulder and was met with a silly smile. It was the guy from earlier in the morning.

"Sorry," she said, feeling embarrassed. She allowed herself to groan, feeling free from expressing her feelings. Even in front of this guy she just met. "I just couldn't stay in that room anymore."

"I didn't know class 1B was that far off," he joked.

"You know anyone from there?"

"Certainly. I could name quite a few if you ask me."

"Ugh, then I'm sure you know. Speaking of, in what class did you end up?"

He placed a hand in his pocket. "2B," he smiled. "If my last name was different we could've been in the same class. Maybe then the school year wouldn't be so bad."

"Yeah, talk about luck," she played along his playful attitude. She didn't know where he was getting at, but he was at least tolerable. "Oh, hey, we haven't met properly before."

"You're right," he extended his palm, smiling at her. "Mick Travis."

She replied with her name, shaking his hand. "Mick Travis? Is that French or..."

"I'm originally from Britain, but I've moved here for a while. I don't know for how long but I'll do what I can in the meantime. Second year in this school and I can't wait to get out of here."

"Did something happen last year?"

"It's a long story," he said simply, changing the subject. "So, where are you headed?"

In the end they sat at a bench, under a tree to avoid the bright sun from blinding their eyes and having to constantly squint at each other. Travis sat sideways, his one leg crossed while the other was extended freely, his head resting on his palm, the other holding his cigarette.

[Name] lazily looked up at the tree as the wind moved it's leafs, making her almost fall asleep. "Are they gotta tell us something for not going to eat?"

"Hell no, I'm sure they know how ass the food is anyway. We're just saving our lives at the moment."

She hummed, putting out her finished cigarette.

"So," he adjusted his head, in a way to look at her. "What do you think of this school?"

"I don't know. But I hope this year passes quickly. Last year was the worst year of my life."

This peacked his interest. "How so?"

"Long story," she laughed when she realized he responded the same way before. "Maybe I'll tell you if I skip a class."

"Fine."

Break ended too quickly for [Name] to enjoy and she dragged her feet to class, with Travis having to sometimes push her while she groaned in annoyance.

She walked inside, making eyecontact with Sabiani and giving her a look of "I can't stand being here already." The poor girl only giving her a sympathetic smile in response.

She was about to sleep on her desk, when a commotion made her raise her head to see what was going on. Descamps and his friends – whatever their names were, she didn't even bother to know – were making a fuss over something, and she noticed quickly a bucket filled with water behind the door. Descamps grabbed it and attempted to place it on top of the door, ordering one of his friends to keep watch from outside in the process.

The class did nothing, and so did [Name]. It took her a while to realize that a prank was happening, so whoever were to walk in would get drenched in that dirty bucket water. She rose from her seat, throwing her chair back and scaring Sabiani from beside her. She did promise not to act out, in hopes of not getting unwanted attention from the teachers, but she had enough from that Latin teacher anyway. She wouldn't let anyone stop her now.

She walked up to him, pushing him and making him almost spill the water. He narrowed his eyes at her, before he flashed her a cocky smile. "What's that? Didn't you learn your lesson from getting expelled from your last school? Are you planning on doing the same thing here?"

She clenched her jaw at the nerve he had. He didn't even know of her, yet acted better than her. "I'll get expelled for this? You're the one putting a bucket on top of the damn door."

She felt a hand grabbing her wrist and she turned around. "Don't get involved, just continue sleeping on your desk like you were before," it was one of Descamps friends.

She snatched her hand away, "Don't touch me." Turning her attention back at the vile glasses-wearing guy, she attempted to take the bucket away from him, only for him to raise it over her head, mocking her in the process. She would've been intimidated by his height, but she was already used to scarier guys from last year. Descamps laughed at her unsuccessful attempts, then motioned something to his friend. He got the memo and held back [Name] by restraining her.

"Let me down!" she yelled, but they ignored her, finally Descamps putting the damn bucket where he planned from the beginning. She looked at the rest of the class, everyone doing nothing about the whole thing and staying silent in their seats. She made eyecontact with Laubrac, her eyes seeking for his help. He only looked away, hiding his shame.

The victim of the prank was Magnan, as the water completely covered her from head to toe. Her braids were starting to fall apart from her cute style. Her frozen body left in shock as she looked around the class, everyone watching her without reaction. [Name] felt shame when she realized the water made the fabric on her chest area visible, being stuck on her skin.

Descamps and his friends were the only ones breaking the silence in the room, chuckling to themselves and breaking out laughing, [Name] being no longer being held back.

Suddenly he swallowed hard and composed himself at the sight of Mrs. Couret. He looked at her nervously and placed both his hands in his pockets.

Mrs. Couret was in shock at first, but acted quickly, taking of her jacket and putting it around Magnan. She ordered [Name] and Sabiani to look over the class, but they knew that with both of them combined they couldn't control Descamps and his dumb crew. Moments later, they exited the classroom, headed to the nurses office.

If that wasn't enough, Descamps even drew on the chalkboard, being a picture of who she assumed was Magnan, her chest area being the most prominent. [Name] was about to go off again, but Sabiani grabbed her wrist instead, shaking her head at her to tell her to stop. After a bit of contemplating she backed down. Before she could even sigh in disappointment, a senior barged inside the classroom.

He pushed a guy from his way and swing at one of the guys that indulged in the "prank". Sabiani yelled at them to stop but it escalated even worse. Descamps went to defend him, and this lead to him being hit. In the eye area. Next thing she knew, he was kneeled to the ground. Everything had happened so fast, [Name] was frozen in place.

Without thinking she fell next to him, trying to get a look at his injury. It was pretty hard to do so, as he pressed onto his left eye, his back slouching more and more as he couldn't contain his pain anymore. His groans made him so he couldn't hear the girl from beside him, but the warm touch on his shaking body comforted him even for a bit.

[Name] felt herself suddenly being pushed back, and she calmed herself when she realized it was the Dean.

"Let me see," he said, crouching to Descamps' level.

"My eye...! I can't see..."

"Don't touch it okay? Can you stand up?" when he nodded, he helped him get up. He then ordered Pichon to get the nurse, but she was already there.

"He's got some glass in his eye," Mr. Belanger said softly at his wife, as she placed a hand on his back and led him outside, mentioning something about taking him to the hospital.

"Get back to your class!" he yelled at the students that were watching from outside the door. "Dupin, take your seat. Jean-Pierre, my office. You two, put the chairs back. You wipe that off. And you, clean that now!" he looked at the rest of the class, his piercing look sending shivers down [Name]'s spine. "Everyone else, take your seats!" he ordered and the tone of his voice made everyone do so without question. "Quietly!"

He sighed, "I'll leave you to it, Miss Couret," he said, giving a last look to the teacher that had just arrived before storming off.

The rest of the day seemed to pass way slower that before.

tagging: @kpoploverxx-12 @puchosdementa @tropicalheart13 @luvmacyyyy @aiuragf @idontlikemonday @helchronicles @bubblegum-bitchhhhhhhhh @visndcaitswhore @blueberryblood11 @remusmuse @pookayyyyy @blvckdress @lirominissss @issoais-blog @murxhavia @b3l1z8 @nikkoiiii @beau-min

©ssnowville ©snowville

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 7

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Zoro should count his lucky stars when Nami showed up when she did. She was on her way to Sabaody Archipelago to personally deliver the map that he asked for. He hadn’t seen their former navigator for almost a decade so he was taken aback at how powerful she had become manipulating the weather the way she did. It’s not that he ever underestimated her before, but he won’t openly admit that to her. She practically took on an entire armada of Pacifistas on multiple Marine vessels without so much as getting a scratch or being seen. It looks like travelling the world on Weatheria has worked out very well for her. The swordsman reminds himself to send a letter to Usopp to compliment his handiwork with her new staff as well.

Law had received their message and had been waiting at Duval’s base ahead of them. They should be celebrating Sanji’s success and their return, but the Heart Pirates had no smiles to share that night.

Bepo pushed the stretcher where Sanji laid, rushing him to the surgery room aboard the Polar Tang. Keeping up with them, a few other members of the Heart Pirates worked together to wrap a breathing mask around the blonde’s face, manage the gas tanks and calibrate other medical equipment attached to the stretcher while Law held the IV line that’s secured to the blonde’s arm. He injects a clear liquid into the drip chamber as he walks along quickly.

Law

Penguin, I need that blood result as soon as you can get them. We may need to look for donors if we don’t have his type in stock. I doubt royal blood type comes in abundance.

Penguin

Yes, Captain!

Penguin turns his heel with a few other members of the crew following him. They walk past Zoro, who is following closely behind, the entire front of his robe stained with dried blood.

Sanji

Wait…

Law

Sleep tight, Mr. Prince-ya.

Sanji weakly pulls the pouch that was looped around his wrist. He stretches it towards Zoro, wincing when he holds out his hand to a certain extent.

Law

Don't move, idiot!

Seeing that Sanji wouldn't listen to the doctor, Zoro rushes to his side and grabs the pouch by its bottom. The blonde clasps Zoro’s hands in his as he holds onto it tightly. With a dry mouth, he speaks in a rasp.

Sanji

I'm entrusting these to you until I get back. Promise me that you won't lose them.

Zoro opens his mouth as if to say something but ends up staring at their hands. There's just about a million things that he wants to tell and ask him, but can't seem to decide which one to say out loud first.

Sanji resists closing his eyes shut. He props himself on the elbow on the side without the open wound, still holding onto the swordsman as if his life depended on it.

Law

Oi! Lay back down.

Sanji

Marimo, I need to hear it.

Zoro looks up to his eyes. What was once bright and blue are now completely filled with pain and desperation, much like a helpless animal cornered by a beast.

Sanji coughs, getting a splatter of blood on the white sheets of the stretcher, some drips at the corner of his mouth. Law pushes him back down by the chest.

Law

I said lay down! You’re making it worse!

Sanji

Zoro, your word.

Zoro wants to give him the moon on a silver string.

Sanji

Please….

Zoro

Y–yes! I promise.

Sanji

Good….

At that, Sanji succumbs to slumber.

—

Zoro emerges from inside the submarine and into the chill of the night on the top deck. His head is down and hands tucked inside his sleeves, working the pouch loops around his forearm to keep it secure and out of sight. He stops then straightens himself in front of Nami who’s reading the most recent papers that she had acquired just a few moments ago. When the navigator sees him, she quickly folds the paper and tucks it under an arm.

Nami

So…was that who I think it was?

Zoro

The Pirate King of the North?

Yeah….

Nami tilts her head on the side as she eases back against the railing of the deck.

Nami

The one you wanted dead.

Zoro

Yes.

Nami

For…what, twenty years? Give or take? And…now, for a reason you wouldn’t tell me, you want him…not dead?

Zoro

Y–yeah….

Zoro rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. It’s not that he doesn’t want to share any details with her, it’s just that he’s still trying to figure out how he feels about the man himself.

Nami

He’s kinda cute, actually. Minus all the bleeding.

Zoro

Yeah….

Nami raises her eyebrows. She gives the swordsman a moment to process his own response.

Zoro’s mind is still shocked and dazed following the events of Sabaody Archipelago. When he realises what he had said to the navigator, he stammers, and tries to find the right response to save himself. After not coming up with one, he settles with just crossing his arms and looking away grumpily. He eyes Duval’s tiki bar on one of their open docks where the man himself and the rest of his Flying Fish gang are currently at, drinking merrily while looking after the family that they had liberated.

Nami gives the swordsman a cheeky smile. After a second, her expression darkens.

Nami

You’re not going to like this then….

The navigator holds out the papers to him.

Zoro takes the papers hesitantly then unfolds them to the front page. His blood boils at the sight of the headlines.

“WORLD NOBLE DONATES TO CHARITY, GETS DISMEMBERED AND ROBBED BY PIRATE KING.”

Nami

Zoro…did this actually happen?

The swordsman remembers what Law had told him about the Marines twisting the truth in favour of the Celestial Dragons. While he knew that the headline and the article weren't entirely untrue, it didn't cover anything about the malice behind the World Noble. Unintentionally, he starts visibly shaking with fury, ripping the entirety of the paper from its sides. Purple aura starts to surround him and sparks of red zap from within. At that point, he wants to rid the face of the planet of all Celestial Dragons and their supporters.

Nami

Hey! I was reading that!

Duval

Is everything okay up there?!

Duval was shouting with concern from the tiki bar down at the docks. When Nami looks over from the side of the sub, she gives him and the worried crowd a reassuring wave after noticing how tense everyone had become–no doubt feeling the swordsman’s unintentional haki flexing.

Nami

Yes, yes! The adults are talking here, so don’t come up!

Duval

But I’m technically older than you….

Looking slightly hurt, Duval returns to making drinks for the people around him. He tries to think of a good distraction to take everyone’s attention from all that tension aboard the ship.

Nami carefully reaches out and places both her hands on Zoro’s shoulders.

Nami

I know this is hard, but you need to calm down. You can wreck this whole place just by doing that. You don’t want that to happen.

Zoro continues to tremble under her but the navigator has learned from the past that nagging him about this would just fan the flames. She approaches with care.

Nami

Remember your breathing exercises? How you had to really step it up because of Brook distracting you?

Zoro’s shoulders flinch at the memory. His aura starts to stabilise.

Nami

How about that song he likes to play…? Do you remember it?

Sure enough, when the swordsman finally gets his senses back, he hears the chorus of Bink’s Sake sung out happily below them by the drunk Flying Fish Pirates and the joyous family that they had freed. Touched at the scene, along with the memories that start flooding through his mind, he relaxes. His aura disappears as quickly as it came.

Nami gives Zoro a couple of pats on the shoulder and takes a step back, separating herself from him.

Nami

Good job. Now come on, let’s get a drink. You look like you could use one. Or two. Or several. Honestly, knowing you, you’d bleed them dry. Screw it, let’s go get drunk. It’s been a while!

Zoro smiles at that, and nods. He misses having a friend who he trusts enough to let his guard down–let alone someone who can keep up with him when it comes to drinking.

Seeing the papers almost tipped him over the edge. Everything that they’d gone through from that previous island left him drained and suffocating. Now, he just feels so tired that he just wants to spend the rest of the night drinking, then nap the whole week away–not wanting to think of a certain blonde who’s currently fighting for his life.

The swordsman misses the times when things are a lot less complicated and a lot more straightforward. At this stage in life, he expects himself to be older and wiser, to know exactly what to do and when. However, nowadays he finds that he’d been second-guessing himself a lot more than ever.

He begins to think about the seemingly innocent game show at Sabao Dome, and how it quickly spiralled into dealing with a Celestial Dragon. He wonders if telling Sanji not to kill him was the right thing to do, and starts questioning his own knowledge of the world. He thinks about his own ignorance and the consequences that someone else had paid for in his lack thereof.

Maybe some people just deserve to die, so he considers going back to get the job done out of spite now that he has a better understanding of how and why his “friend” sees the world the way he does, and the world hates him for it.

Out of nowhere, he feels a slim arm wrap around his own as his navigator friend pulls him out of his trance to walk with him side by side. He doesn’t know how long he’d been just standing there just staring blankly. He welcomes Nami’s presence as it brings him back to reality, taking the opportunity to ground himself.

With a deep breath, he focuses on what’s currently around him. He slowly comes to, feeling the navigator's warmth next to him, smelling the sea in the air, and hearing the sounds of his own feet against the wooden deck and the merry singing in the distance. He pulls himself together and decides that he should stand by his own morals, to stay strong and keep his values. Now is the worst time to falter. If he’s to prove himself to be a real man to protect his friends, he shouldn’t be one to bend so easily.

—

Zoro wakes up the next morning feeling like hell. He pushes himself off whatever ground surface he ended up on, running his hands over his face, trying to ease the throbbing pain in his head. He doesn’t get hangovers a lot but for whatever reason, this is one of the few rare moments when he does and he has it bad.

The swordsman stretches, then winces at the pain from his back and shoulders, only just realising how sore he is from all the fighting and fleeing yesterday. When he looks down, he sees that he’s in a very loose orange boiler suit with the Heart Pirates jolly roger embossed on its front pocket. His face scrunches as a memory comes to mind.

He remembers getting a full lecture from Nami for not changing out of his blood-stained clothes before going out drinking. The Heart Pirates agreed with her so they took matters into their own hands when he refused to take her advice. It took almost the full crew to pin him down so they could clean and dress his wounds to avoid infection. To add insult to injury, Bepo forced him into his spare clothes, which are the only ones that aren't too small for the swordsman, to keep him protected from the chill of the night. They were very concerned that he’d catch a cold, especially having been soaked for hours in the oceanic storm.

He looks around to figure out where he is, then recognises that he’s sat in the middle of the floor of their room aboard the Polar Tang. The familiarity gives him relief. Over at the bunk beds, he sees a mess of orange hair on his pillow. A flash of another memory comes back to him–he’d talked to Nami a lot last night. She promised that she’d be there for him as he waits for Sanji to come out of surgery.

Zoro scooches his butt so his back rests against the far wall. He turns his gaze at the round window. By the looks of it, it’s already late morning so they’d just missed breakfast in the ship’s galley. He digs through his mind, trying to figure out if he saw the blonde at some point in the night but can’t seem to recall anything of the sort. Then he hears blankets shuffle around.

Nami

Morning…. Ugh…someone, kill me.

The navigator struggles to push herself up to a sitting position. With both hands, she parts her hair from her face then nurses her forehead with her fingers. She swings her legs off to the side to face Zoro.

Nami

So…do you want to talk about last night?

Zoro raises a brow at her then returns his gaze to the window.

Zoro

What else is there to talk about? I told you everything already.

Nami

No, you haven't!! You passed out first so I didn’t get all the details!

Zoro groans at the volume of her raised voice. He covers his eyes with a hand.

Zoro

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mind if you keep it down? You’re doing my head in, witch. Also I didn’t pass out first–you did.

Nami

You were about to tell me about the kiss!

Zoro

Oh–then, no.

Nami

Zoro! Come on! This is the first time I hear you being involved with someone! Is he your first?

Zoro

Look, just forget it, alright? My head wasn't in a good place and I had too much to drink. Why do you care anyway? It’s none of your business.

Nami stands and puts her hands on her hips, looming over him. She gives him an intimidating glare.

Nami

That's not fair, Zoro.

The swordsman grunts in annoyance and chooses not to face her out of spite.

Zoro

What did I do now?

Nami

Do you only talk to me when you have a favour to ask? Or when you need something from me?

Zoro slides his hand off his face to properly look the fuming navigator eye to eye.

Nami

Do you have any idea how worried everyone's been? Sometimes we don’t even know if you’re still alive because no one hears anything from you, sometimes for years. We only know you are because you'd pop up in the papers once in a while.

We try calling but you always throw your snails away. We send you letters but you've only ever replied twice. So you'll have to forgive me if I get all excited just to hear just a smidge of news from someone who means a lot in my life.

Tears welled up in her eyes and snot dripped from her nose as she spoke. She sniffs and runs an arm over her face in an attempt to clean her face.

Zoro’s eye softens and he stands in front of the now crying navigator.

Nami

I really, really miss everyone.

He opens his arms to her, and she runs into it, giving him a tight embrace. The swordsman returns her affection shyly with a hug of his own.

Nami

Zoro, we just want to be there for you.

Zoro

I know….

Nami

But you have to let us in, alright? Otherwise…

Nami pulls away to look up to him, gripping onto his arms.

 Nami

Otherwise…we don’t know if you’re okay.

Zoro quietly nods.

—

The family that were freed from the Celestial Dragons are enjoying their newfound freedom. The merchild had taken to swimming laps around the entire perimeter of Duval's base while the adults celebrated with the gang for hours on end, and doing absolutely anything they can think of “just because they can,” as one of them would say. Such things included eating food any time they wanted, sunbathing, running around wild, singing out loud and wearing the gang’s leather jackets for fun–anything and everything that they can think of they do happily–their future looking as bright as the sun above them.

Man 1

A–are you sure you want us in Weatheria?! We really don’t want to impose…everyone’s done so much for us already!

Nami

Don’t worry about it–you and your family are welcome to stay for as long as you like! We’ve got plenty of space up there and there are no Marines to catch you. It moves as fast as a den-den mushi but we go to different parts of the world collecting data about the weather. Maybe one day you can find a more permanent home but that’s really up to you.

Woman 1

Up to…us?

Nami

Yeah! It’s your life!

Nami turns her heel and waves behind her, walking away to join the swordsman who is currently fishing by a nearby pier.

Man 1

Did you hear that, junior? We can do whatever we want, and go wherever we want!

Merchild

REALLY?! Thank you, kind lady!!

The merchild jumps around happily, clapping to himself. He proceeds to swim all the way around the base for the twentieth time, spouting long streams of water from his lips as he goes–simply because he can.

Nami joins the unhappy looking swordsman who’s grown impatient from the lack of bites from his fishing line.

Zoro

“Kind” is a bit generous.

The navigator’s temper snaps. She delivers a strong kick to Zoro’s back, sending him flying into the horizon.

—

That afternoon, when Zoro had gone and changed into fresh dry clothes, he made his way to the infirmary and knocked on the door as soon as he was told that he could visit Sanji.

Law

Come in.

The swordsman quietly lets himself in, the cool air-conditioned room is a welcome sensation on his sunburnt face.

Law

Oh good, it’s the other one who doesn’t follow my plans.

Law scribbles angry notes onto a clipboard and hangs it on a nearby wall. His face is looking a lot more grumpier and sleep-deprived than usual, which makes sense given that he was up all night performing surgery. The swordsman isn’t even sure if he’s slept or eaten yet.

Zoro closes the door behind him. He puts his hands in his pockets as he approaches, looking at the sleeping blonde tucked comfortably in the infirmary bed. He felt relieved to see that Nami had used her cat burglar skills to pick the slave collar off him earlier. It was an ugly sight and he was glad to have rid of them. In place of it are bandages around his neck, proof that Law had already tended to the wounds.

As Zoro stares at the sleeping patient, the doctor frowns at him for wearing Bepo’s oversized outfit but chooses not to say anything about it. Instead, he stays on topic about his first point.

Law

You lot always do whatever the hell you want. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that the Pirate King was a Straw Hat.

Zoro

Shut up. It’s not the end of the world, okay? Nami’s here, and we got the funds to pay her for the map.

Law

Great, but we still have to find a bubble ship, unless you know a way to make my ship fly. The only capable shipwrights that I know of who specialise in modifying submarines or making bubble ships are in Sabaody Archipelago.

Zoro crosses his arms and gives him an unimpressed face in return.

Zoro

You know the scientists in Weatheria practically invented bubble ships, right?

Law raises an eyebrow, intrigued at the idea.

Zoro

It’s smaller and probably can’t carry everyone you wanted…but it flies. If you play your cards right and you’re nice, maybe the Pirate King will give you more of his money to buy it off our navigator.

Zoro pulls out Sanji's bag from under his sleeve and shakes it in front of Law's face. Its contents jiggled with sound.

Law’s eye twitches at the bag, and at Zoro’s attitude towards him.

Law

I just saved his ass!

And since when do you care so much about him? He gave you everything he got, didn’t he? Given how much you wanted him dead, what’s stopping you from just leaving him behind right here and now?

With an impassive look on his face, Zoro returns the bag in his sleeve, pulls up a chair and sits by Sanji’s side. Calmly, he replies.

Zoro

Would you?

Law crosses his arms and looks away, thinking carefully, as if weighing his options whether or not to also ditch the swordsman who’s apparently now taken the Pirate King’s side–literally and figuratively. 

Law

No.

Zoro

Because you and I know that we’re better than this…

The swordsman reaches out to hold Sanji’s hand in his, gently stroking his knuckles with his thumb.

Zoro

And he needs to see that the world isn’t such a cruel place.

The doctor stays quiet, now looking at Zoro and Sanji’s entwined hands. After a few moments, he decides to give them privacy and walks towards the door.

Zoro

Hey, Traffy…

Law stops but doesn’t turn to face his way.

Zoro

Thanks….

We’ll find Corazon. I swear to you.

Law hides a smirk on his face and continues to move to the door.

Law

I know we will.

—

Zoro didn’t want to part with Nami so quickly, but he knew that the longer they stayed at Duval’s base, the more they put the people around them in danger. Law agreed with him, stating that they need to leave quickly before they leave too much evidence of their visit behind.

They purchased the map and the bubble ship from Nami as planned, giving her a single condensed Seastone that Sanji acquired. The swordsman wasn’t actually sure if the bubble ship was hers to give away, but nevertheless they finally have what they need to travel to Skypiea.

She had also given Bepo a work-in-progress copy of the Grand Line map with a very clear disclaimer stating that it’s incomplete so they may find islands that aren’t drawn on that she isn't aware of. When asked why she gave it for free, she looked at the swordsman and secretly told him that it’s a reward for opening up about his personal life. In truth, Zoro knew that her heart was too big for that, and that she’d give him anything if she thought he needed it.

Duval generously offered to escort Nami and the liberated family to Weatheria with his entire gang on their flying fish mounts to ensure their safe travel. He didn’t ask for much in return but he approached Law to see if he could give him a facelift so he could look just as “handsome” as the Pirate King. Zoro cringed at the idea, but the man was insistent that he wants the same popularity as Sanji did when he saw him in the video feed during the game show at Sabaody Archipelago. Naturally, the doctor refused until Duval begged him for the umpteenth time so Law had to say yes in the end just to shut the man up. Now, Duval looks like an extra “handsome” version of the Pirate King, but much taller.

It’s been three days since they set sail and Sanji still hadn’t woken up from his sleep after his big surgery. Law reports that it’s not because of the wounds inflicted on him but rather the serum that they detected in his blood. It was a type of drug that’s designed to keep the victim in a helpless state for several days. The fact that the blonde was awake for hours after receiving it would have taken a strong constitution on his part. They had flushed it out of his system successfully but his body still needs time to recover naturally. The whole idea of him potentially being in the hands of the Celestial Dragon in that state just makes the swordsman want to turn the ship around to give the World Noble a piece of his mind, and maybe shove one of his blades down his throat while he's at it.

Zoro felt particularly protective so he’d been spending most of his time keeping the blonde company in the infirmary instead of staying more comfortably in their bunk room. He’s been kindly lent a futon to be set up in the corner of the room whenever he needs it. Unsurprisingly, other Heart Pirates have also come to visit Sanji at least once a day not just to check in on their patient, but also to hang out, trying to be supportive of Zoro and hoping to be there the very moment Sanji wakes up. The swordsman welcomed their company lest he spirals too deep into his own mind which he’s been trying to avoid recently. 

Shachi

I reckon he did all that just so he can skip out of doing chores, the lazy fuck.

The others laughed at the snide comment as they played a round of cards between themselves on the floor. They figured that now is the best time to make fun of the blonde, in front of his own face, without worry of any retort.

Penguin

How do you like your new outfit, Mr. Bushido?

Zoro looks down, admiring the orange boiler suit that is now tailored exactly to his size. Over one side of his chest, they embossed the Straw Hat jolly roger on with the Heart Pirate’s one just underneath it, especially made just for him.

Zoro

It’s fine, thanks. It’s great, actually. Luffy would love it too.

Bepo

You properly look like one of us now! It’s a good colour!

Sanji

The Marimo…turned into a giant carrot.

Everyone in the room poke their head up from the floor to look at the blonde on the bed.

Sanji gives the crowd a warm smile and a weak wave.

Heart Pirates

CHORE BOY!!!

They immediately surround Sanji, giving him hugs, pats on the head and cheerful greetings.

Zoro stood behind them, watching the group finally celebrate his return and recovery. He can’t help but smile at the touching scene. The blonde makes eye contact with him and returns his grin with his own.

When the hype had gone down and they felt like they gave the blonde enough affection, the Heart Pirates wished Sanji well and returned to their duties to leave him to rest. Zoro closed the door behind them and turned to approach the bed.

Sanji

It's a shame that I didn't get to meet your nakama.

The blonde massages his neck where the heavy collar once was.

Sanji

I would have liked to have thanked her personally. It was like the heavens sent her.

Zoro lets out an unexpected hearty laugh, making Sanji jump.

Zoro

Sent from the hells, more like.

Sanji

Marimo! You talk about ladies that way?

Zoro

If you knew Nami, you would too.

Zoro gets a faceful of pillow thrown square at him.

—

Hours have passed since the Heart Pirates have left but Sanji can't seem to settle himself comfortably on the bed, his body feeling too sore to properly relax on the unfamiliar thin mattress under him. He gives up eventually and decides to watch the waves of the waters through the round window. He feels that familiar pull again, as if the ocean itself is beckoning him. It's a comfortable feeling that he's always sought after since reading about the All Blue when he was a child in that damp cell where his father kept him.

The repetitious calm waves eventually makes him drowsy, but he fights going back to sleep. He thinks, not just yet. He knew that he’d already missed out on precious days that he could have been spending being up and about, even with the limited space the Polar Tang offered. If he was being completely honest with himself, he’s also feeling scared and fragile–a feeling that hasn’t arisen until the recent encounter with the Celestial Dragon. He's afraid that if he falls asleep, he'd never wake up.

The bed sinks on one side. He turns his head to find that the swordsman had sat next to him, making him smile at the contact and the newfound comfort that the man seems to have with him. It was reassuring and warm to the heart but Sanji knew he’d have to stop whatever this is before he gets too emotionally attached to the man.

This isn’t supposed to happen. He’s planned to have the swordsman by his side as an asset as he does with Doflamingo–to instill fear where he needs it, and destruction where he wants it. The extra sex would have been beneficial as well.

He shouldn’t care about the swordsman. He wanted the challenge of turning someone worth their salt, someone who can keep up with him, someone who the Marines respected. He meant to strip him bare, break him slowly, confuse him, then use him. But now he can’t seem to get himself to do any of that.

Finding love wasn’t supposed to be on the table–or whatever it is that he’s feeling. He starts fearing for the things that might scare the swordsman if he learns too much about his life, and the heartbreak that will inevitably come if this gets too far.

Out of nowhere, Zoro reaches out and takes his hand in his. He gently lifts it to plant a light kiss on the back where an old scar is. The blonde’s eyes soften at the sight.

Sanji

Mellorine…

Zoro

You’re shaking. Have you gone for a nap?

Sanji

No… I couldn't.

The swordsman flips his hand and pecks an old burn mark on his wrist. He looks at Sanji in the eye then places his next kiss on his inner forearm where the burn spans. Slowly, he continued the trail of affection up his arm, then his shoulder, until he found the bandaged area of his neck, kissing over the material right in the middle where he very well knew an old scar is.

Sanji holds his breath as he feels Zoro’s tenderness in the area. The mark was from another slave collar that he tried to force off by hand when was younger, and he’d always associated it with nothing but pain. The swordsman's gentleness on it was a new sensation that made his heart practically flip.

He can’t help but stretch his neck to present himself, exposing his vulnerabilities and succumbing to the affection as the other man continues his barrage of kisses on different spots of his skin. His breath quickens. His face scrunches when he tries to resist the pleasure, only for his body to betray him and demand more.

Zoro pulls the blanket down with his teeth, revealing Sanji’s top half bare. He's fully unclothed aside from the wrappings around one side of his chest where he just had his surgery.

Zoro

This one, I know about….

Zoro kisses a scar on Sanji’s collarbone. He trails his lips down, finding his way on one of the blonde’s pecs, never removing his mouth off his skin.

Sanji

Mhmm…

Sanji wraps his arms around Zoro’s neck, spreading his legs to give him better access.

The swordsman takes the opportunity to mount the bed and hover over his figure with care. 

Sanji

You gave me that one and…

Sanji pushes Zoro’s head further down where the swordsman finds an old stab wound on the side of his waist where he once pierced him with Wado.

The swordsman gives it a light smooch.

Zoro

Don’t forget this one….

Zoro tilts his head and gives an unexpected lick along a deep scar on the V of Sanji’s hips, making the blonde yelp in surprise.

Sanji can’t help but chuckle at the playfulness of it all, entangling his fingers into the man’s soft hair.

The swordsman starts dragging his hands up and down Sanji’s front to soothe him, all the while continuing to lick and peck the man’s skin wherever he can find old and new wounds. They stay like this for a while, with Zoro remembering each instance when he’d harmed the man and leaving him gentle kisses in his wake like a form of apology.

Sanji

Marimo…why are you doing this?

Zoro

Hmm….

Zoro starts using his tongue, dragging it down from the man's chest, following the line in the middle of his abdomen.

The blonde takes a sharp inhale, arching his back. He ignores the slight pain from his chest.

The swordsman, liking the reaction, shuffles himself under Sanji’s blanket and covers himself in it. He continues his onslaught of kisses closer to Sanji’s core, out of sight between the man’s legs.

Sanji

Fuuuuck…

Sanji jerks his hips in the air involuntarily, trying to get any sort of friction.

Zoro

You were saying something?

Sanji

I… I forget.

Sanji’s mind has gone blank and can no longer see what Zoro’s doing. Everything became about touch alone. He could feel the swordsman’s rough hands glide over his hips and legs, comforting him. He remembers pain from the bite marks that the Celestial Dragon had bestowed on him. But now, in its place, the swordsman took his time to lightly kiss the area in his inner thigh as an attempt to make him forget by replacing the hurt with his own affections.

Sanji

Z–Zoro… I don’t know if I can get hard right now after…you know….

Zoro pokes his head out of the blanket to look at him eye to eye.

Zoro

That’s not what I’m doing this for.

Though…you do smell fuckin’ amazing down here.

Sanji winges.

Not wanting to torture the other man too much, the swordsman moves up, still dragging his lips over his skin. He leans his arms against the pillow, caging the blonde underneath him. He peppers his face with tender kisses–under the jaw, at the corner of his lips, the tip of his nose, and the spot between his brows. He repeats this on the other side. He feels the blonde release the breath he’d been holding, easing into his touch.

After a few moments, he feels pressure against his chest from Sanji trying to push him. The swordsman parts himself to look into his wide blue eyes. He looked pained.

Zoro

What's wrong?

Sanji

…I don't think I want to marry you anymore.

Zoro stops his movements abruptly. He pulls himself back to separate himself from the blonde. He sits back on his heels, his face looking confused and offended.

Sanji

Don’t take it the wrong way. It’s not that I don’t want to do this….

Sanji entwines his fingers around Zoro’s collar and pulls him back at his eye level. With his other hand, he brushes back stray strands of the swordsman’s hair that had gone awry on his forehead.

Sanji

I don’t want to marry you anymore because I want to do this right…. Whatever this is.

Zoro

Hmm…

Zoro eyes the blonde up and down, as if trying to gauge him and read his thoughts.

Zoro

Alright.

Sanji

Alright…?

Zoro

Yeah…I want to do this right too.

Whatever this is.

Sanji raises his eyebrows in surprise. He’s never been one to go exclusive and steady, but the swordsman didn’t explicitly say that. The one thing he knows for sure is that he wants Zoro in his life, in a very different way than he initially thought. Whatever plan that he had concocted for the man before had already gone down the drain ages ago, opening an opportunity for a fresh start. It’s not exactly the cleanest one, but it might be what he needs while he figures things out.

There is a knock on the door.

Zoro clumsily throws the blanket over Sanji’s head to cover his nakedness and readjusts himself back to a sitting position at the edge of the bed, trying to look as casual as he can.

Sanji sputters, pulling the blanket down from his face irritatingly, earning him a smirk from the swordsman.

Sanji

Hey!

There is another knock, this time, more urgent.

Sanji

It’s open!

Law opens the door slightly, just enough to poke his head in. He looks especially furious behind his polite tone.

Law

You have a guest, Mr. Prince-ya.

He steps inside and pushes the door wider. Behind him, a familiar man with long pointed blue hair and a dark cape around his shoulders ushers in. Sanji notices a particular iron helmet not being worn, but instead tucked under one of his arms, leaving his curled eyebrows exposed.

Zoro

Who’s this?

Sanji

Commander.

Commander 2

Your Highness. We lost track of him.

Sanji narrows his eyes, his expression instantly changing into something dire.

Sanji

Who, exactly?

Commander 2

The Warlord, Donquixote Doflamingo.

----------

Coloured to show that Sanji looks healthier when he's happy.

Also I really enjoyed drawing Zoro in Heart Pirates outfit!!

[antoncyng]

౨ৎ. save my heart — l.mk

synopsis - while your bestfriend saved the city as the friendly neighborhood “spider-man”, he also gets caught up in saving your heart from a lost love.

warning(s) - fluff, slightly angst..? happy ending tho, kissing, spiderman!mark x fem!reader, slightly suggestive towards the end?, mentions of injuries and blood, bestfriends to lovers.

word count - 0.7k (731)

another night studying, calming music from your favorite group currently, TWS. the studying was seriously starting to get to your head, you felt it pounding as your rubbed your forehead, finally putting down your pencil for a break after hours and hours, then you heard it.

knock, knock, knock

you knew who and what it was just by the rhythm of knocks, it was your bestfriend, mark lee. other than your bestfriend, mark was also a well known superhero in your city, as well as around the world. his story about being bitten by a radioactive spider went viral, turning him into the friendly neighborhood spiderman.

you've made a realization over the years that you had gained feelings for your bestfriend, but having to push away your feelings for the sake of friendship and trust wasn't easy. ever since you made realization of these feelings, it hurt and left you with a heavy heart every time he talked about his past and previous crushes.

"yn she's so pretty, what am I gonna do?!"

“i asked her to eat lunch with me today! i might confess soon..”

“from a girl’s perspective, do you think gwen likes me?”

gwen this, gwen that.

"I don't think gwen likes me back.. she said I was like a brother to her when she was talking to hyuck.." was all he could choke out before leaning in and crying into your shoulder, feeling the fabric of your shirt get heavy from his tears over another girl, that wasn't you.

✦.

you heard muffled grunts and groans coming from mark outside your window, rushing to it to open it for him and help him inside, noticing how he stumbles and limps into your room. pulling his mask off his face as he sits on the floor with his back against your mattress and bed frame, laying his head back while sweats drips from his forehead and he’s hissing in pain with every contact that’s made with the fresh wounds on his body.

observing his body in his suit, you noticed scratches that went through his suit, they seemed deep but not enough to have any serious injuries. shocked, you sat there, too scared to touch him in such a vulnerable state, you’ve dealt with marks small scratches and bruises a few days after his “villain” fights, but you’ve never had to deal with fresh wounds like these.

“are you gonna sit and stare or help me out here?” he said with a sarcastic tone and a slight laugh, only to be cut off by a hiss and groan of pain. that was your signal to jog towards the kitchen and get your emergency medkit, bringing it back to mark and taking out everything you would need to help him heal his open wounds.

“u-uh.. mark..?” you said quietly after making a realization, and what you got was a curious hum in response, knowing he was in too much pain to respond to your sudden concern. "you're gonna have to.. take your shirt off.. only for me to help you!" darkness was all you could see when you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment after rushing out your sentence, only to hear a chuckle with a hint of pain coming from mark.

“you can open your eyes, you know.” you heard before peaking one eye open, only to be met with a shirtless mark and a heated blushing face. you hesitated, but started to help the boy with his cuts and bruises, blushing harder everytime you looked up and made eye contact, not knowing he was staring at you and only you the whole time you were healing him.

after many whines and hisses of pain, all bandaids and ointments were over. “thank you yn.. sometimes i think, i genuinely don’t know what i would do without you, you know? you’ve been there for me forever and for everything, even when i was sad because my mom couldn’t buy me ice cream when we were like.. 6, you shared yours with me! i feel like i would be so hopel-“ but he was cut off by your lips on his, you don’t know what got into you, but hearing him ramble on and on just pulled you in. but what you didn’t expect, was for him to kiss back so quickly.

the butterfly feeling in your stomach increased when you felt his fabric covered fingers make contact with the skin of your hips, closing the gap between your bodies. the two of you pulled away after realizing you both needed to breathe, looking at each other like you’ve been waiting a whole lifetime for this moment. snapping back into reality, you started blushing and attempted to look away, only to be brought back by mark’s index and thumb gently gripping your chin.

“don’t look away now, you meant that kiss right? because i know i did.” he said, looking for any sign of uncomfort or sarcasm in your eyes, but all he found was adoration. “of course i did..” was all you could mumble back, mark felt a weight lift off his shoulders before leaning in and resting his forehead against yours.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for you to save my heart, just like you save the city.

antoncyng ‘24 — PLEASE DO NOT STEAL OR COPY!

nini’s note — sorry the ending might be kinda rough.. i’ve had this in my drafts for a little while and have been dreading to finish it until today.. 🥲🥲

[tacticaldiary]

Heyyy just wanted to ask if maybe you could write a ghost x reader with fluff and comfort maybe where the reader comforts ghost after he has a nightmare

Night Terrors

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

It's a bad idea to touch a soldier in the midst of the haze of panic, but even between the haze, Ghost knows to associate her touch with a soothing calm.

"Simon." She says calmly, gritting her teeth as his hands tighten around her wrists. "Simon, you're safe."

His eyes clear, the iron-clad panic slowly fading as he comes to his senses

Masterlist

The person in the mirror stares back at her, clean and freshly showered. Droplets of water drip from her hair onto her neck, her eyes following the trail towards the bandages wrapped tightly across the expanse of her right shoulder all the way across her upper shoulder.

They hide stitches. Fifteen on them in a neat row earned after taking two bullets to the shoulder whilst on their last mission. The soft cotton of her shirt slips over her, hiding the itchy bindings out of sight.

Three short raps on the door startle her out of her thoughts.

"You alright in there?" Simon's gruff voice flows through the wooden door separating them.

"Fine." She says after a moment. It's not far from the truth. Physically, aside from the ache in her shoulder she really is fine.

She full well knows that her life isn't assured with what she's chosen to dedicate her life to. It didn't bother her most days, she knew the risks and loved her job. She loved her task force, loved her boys, loved the good she does for the world even if it meant getting her hands dirty.

She loved Simon.

It's something about the sombre stillness after the heat of going headfirst into a gunfight, the silence after the storm that still seems to be swirling in her mind, the ringing of gunshots echoing in her ears, and the scent of gunpowder and blood lingering on her skin.

Pulling the door open she's faced with her boyfriend, a furrow in his brow as he looks over her. It's rare to see him without his mask, but right now he bares himself to her fully, the strong line of his jaw and the dirty blonde hair dishevelled.

The exhaustion in his eyes mirrors her own.

This was why they were here on leave. She had been put on a month of medical leave for her shoulder to heal up, and Simon had silently followed her back to their apartment.

A burst of warmth had cut through the grey cloud hanging over her shoulder when he'd shown up on the helipad with his own luggage, ready to follow her back. They'd gotten here this morning, and even though she'd fallen asleep against him on the way here she still felt the persistent tiredness nagging at her to close her eyes and rest.

"Your shoulder?" He trails off, gaze flickering to the hidden bandages.

"They're fine, Simon." She assures him, offering him a tired smile. Grabbing his hand, she squeezes affectionately and leads him to the bed nearby. "Just tired, y'know? Getting shot takes a lot out of a girl."

"You're not funny." He deadpans, allowing himself one last look at her.

The warm covers are comfortable, the mattress much easier to sink into than the cold hard ground the team had been camping out in. You get used to it, but coming back to something other people consider normal knowing that it could have been normal to you too is strange.

"Wasn't trying to be." She yawns, letting out a long, slow exhale when Simon wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer. Legs tangle together, her head on his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady. All of it slowly takes the tension out of her shoulders until she's loose and soft against him, breathing deeply.

His hands brush gently over her wound, making her shiver.

"You shouldn't have gotten hurt today." He says quietly into the air. Simon's not sure if she's awake or not, but the words fester inside him like a poison he can't expel, they push themselves out of him without his permission.

"We were on opposite ends of the building." He feels her lips move against his chest, her breath fanning over his skin. "It's not your fault." She whispers.

He hums, not agreeing or disagreeing. She leaves it alone for now, too tired and on the brink of sleep to argue. Tomorrow she'd show him that he wasn't to blame, convince him the way she always managed to do.

But for now? The hand gently carding through her hair knocks her unconscious almost instantly.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

An instinctive intuition honed from years as a soldier is the only thing that makes her eyes flutter open halfway through the night. Tangled in the sheets, she frowns, a nagging feeling of wrongness tugging at her mind.

She had rolled over in the night, pried herself away from Simon at some point instead opting to sleep soundly on her stomach.

A small noise, almost indistinguishable over the creak of the bed as she moves.

"Simon?" She mumbles, sitting up slowly. The lack of reply makes snaps her to attention. Reaching blindly to her side, the lamp on her nightstand is clicked on. The light washing over the room makes her squint but when she finally cracks an eye open, her stomach drops.

"Simon!" Eyes widening, she throws the blanket off, kneeling down next to him on the bed.

There's a thin sheen of sweat over his face. Jaw clenched hard, his body is wound tight like a spring. Silent. He's silent aside from the heavy exhales that leave him and the slight tremble of his body.

Asleep. He's still asleep, she realises with a start. His head moves slightly side to side, as if trying to shake something off. This was...new to her.

Simon was someone unshakable in her eyes. Yes, he'd gifted her with more vulnerability than he'd ever shown anyone, but that did not change his image in her mind.

This...this was all wrong. He looked almost small.

Looking back, this was the worst thing she could have done but still half asleep and frazzled her first instinct is to reach out, to touch and comfort and assure.

Her hand lands on his shoulder, shaking gently as she leans down to call out his name. "Wake up!"

It works.

His eyes snap open with a strangled gasp that catches in his throat. Panic-glazed eyes latch onto her and before she can blink or speak, she's pushed roughly down, flipped onto her back.

Stifling a cry as her injured shoulder jostles painfully, the grip he has on her wrists pinned over her head is uncomfortably tight. She's strong, but with him straddling her, bearing down his weight to pin her in place it's a little hard to breathe.

"Hey-" She gasps when his grip tightens. His breath fans over her face, hot and harsh as he stares down at her hackles raised.

He was awake, but he wasn't seeing her. He was still stuck in whatever nightmare had been plaguing his mind.

Taking in as deep of a breath as she could, she tries again, smoothing her voice to be as gentle and steady as possible.

Simon wouldn't hurt her, she knows that deep down even his subconscious wouldn't do her any true harm. He was just jarred right now, merely on edge and acting on instinct.

"It's me. Just me, see?" She says calmly, gritting her teeth as he presses her harder against the bed. "Simon, you're safe. It's alright, I promise."

Slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes clear, the iron-clad panic slowly fading as he comes to his senses. She watches him come back in real time, sees him blink and register his surroundings properly.

When his eyes land on hers this time, they're wide and seeing.

"Fuck." He breathes out sharply, immediately pulling himself off and away from her. "Fucking hell, I'm sorry." The distance between them grows as he stands.

It takes a second for her to respond while she catches her breath, drawing in the oxygen that was denied of her, calming her racing heart.

Silence wraps around them while they both come to terms with what just happened.

Simon runs a hand down his face, eyes raking over her to find any injuries, any sign of hurt. "Are you alright?" A hoarse voice dripping with blatant guilt.

"Are you?" She says, shifting to the edge of the bed, closer to him. "You were having a nightmare, I think."

He visibly clams up at that, tensing. It'd clearly happened before because surprise was not one of the emotions he held at the moment.

"Your shoulder." He says tightly, clearly upset and angry.

Confused, she look down and...oh. Oh.

Crimson stains her t-shirt, seeping into the fabric sluggishly. "Must have ripped my stitches." She mumbles. Now that it's been brought to her attention, the ache in her shoulder is sharper, most intense. Yeah, she definitely ripped them.

Simon curses under his breath, disappears into the bathroom to fetch the first aid kit.

The atmosphere is tense.

"Off." He demands as he kneels in front of her on the ground, pulling out gauze and an antiseptic ointment. Obeying silently, mind still lingering on the image of his quiet, shaking form from before, she discards the shirt, letting it slip from her fingers onto the floor.

His fingers hesitate in touching the ruined blood soaked bandages, almost as if he's...he's afraid to touch her.

"it's alright." She says. "I shouldn't have touched you like that so suddenly-"

"And I shouldn't have ripped your fucking stitches." He snaps back, pulling away immediately. Dropping his head into his hands he takes a deep breath, willing his anger away. He's not upset at her, never at her.

It's himself that he's pissed at.

With hands not entirely steady, he unwraps her shoulder, inspecting the damage. His stomach sours at the realisation that half the stitches were ripped, not unsalvageable but still damaged.

The silence stretches, heavy in the air as he goes through the motions mechanically, spreading the ointment over her wounds and rewrapping it. She doesn't know what to say. He was the one that needed help a second ago, but here she was now, being that one on the other end. She knows guilt weighs down on him, that he'd blame himself for this as well.

"Night terrors." He admits into the quiet, his sudden voice startling her.

"What?"

"They're night terrors." By the tight way he reveals the information, she guesses he's never spoken it aloud to anybody else before. "Had them ever since I was a lad."

"That's terrible." She frowns, catching his hand as it ties the last knot to secure her new binding. The ache fades slowly, more bearable than before. "Do you...have you had them while I'm around before?" The thought of her sleeping soundly while the man she loved suffered inches away from her made her feel sick, an iron band clenching her heart painfully.

His lack of response is enough of an answer.

"Fucking hell." She breathes, yanking him into a hug. "I'm sorry I never noticed."

"I didn't want you to." The answer is just as immediate as the arms that bands around her, pressing them together tightly.

"Tell me next time." She demands. At his silence, she pulls back. "I want you to wake me up when you have one. I'm serious." The fiery determination in her eyes warms his cold heart. "I don't give a shit if it's the ass crack of dawn, Simon. I want to help you. I want to give you the same comfort you give me." A soft hand cups his jaw, her thumb brushing over his cheeks slowly.

"You already do." His lips brush against the pulse point in her wrist as he kisses it. "I used to..." He falters, and so it's unlike him that it only makes her hurt more. "They used to be about...my past." He keeps it vague on purpose and she knows better than to press it and prod now, not when he's opening up on his own. "But now they're about you."

That, she had not been expecting.

"Me?" She echoes, confused.

A tight nod, his head dropping to press against her good shoulder. "You, love." He confirms. "Always you. You dying in my arms. Me watching from a distance unable to reach you as you get shot." He presses them together tighter as if taking solace in the heat of her body. "You dying at an order I told to you carry out. You get the gist of it." A dry, humourless bark of a laugh.

She swallows, taking in the information. "I'm not going anywhere." Gently carding her hand through his hair helps him relax. "I'm right here, okay?"

"I know." He breathes. "I know you are."

"I don't plan on leaving anytime soon."

"You better not."

"Wake me next time." She pleads. "Let me make it better."

"Can't promise anything." He mumbles into her skin, pressing his lips against the crook of her neck. "I'll think about it."

She sighs, knows that he wouldn't crack so easily. The way to Simon's heart was slow and rocky and dangerous, but she'd gladly risk getting crushed in the landslide if it meant there was a sliver of a chance she'd reach her final destination.

He reaches the bandages on her shoulder, lips hovering over the rough fabric. She shivers as his breath fans over her. "You shouldn't have had to see that." He says quietly, before pressing a kiss to her injured shoulder, a gentle brush.

"I know." She matches his voice, tipping her head back. None of them deserved this. Simon didn't deserve it, she didn't deserve it, yet their line of work, who they were and their past, was inevitable.

Life didn't care about the 'should not's' just about the 'what is'.

For now, she allows him to hold her right there, his lips trailing up and down her neck in slow, sweet and silently apologetic kisses. He mumbles three words into her neck, words that make her smile and melt.

"I love you too." Tugging at his hair until he lifts his head, she brings their lips together sweetly one last time.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(18/07/2023)

[ragingbookdragon]

There’s not much to see in between the minute slits of the burlap sack thrown over her head, but she still strains to see anything and everything that she possibly can. The men holding onto her arms dig their fingers into her arm, a bruising grip that is in part her fault as continually digs her feet into the ground and struggles with something fierce. Ghost is behind her, can feel it, even if he hasn’t said a single word. She on the other hand hasn’t stopped spitting fire every chance she gets, venomous threats and cold warnings.

It’s only until she’s shoved down onto a seat, arms tied behind her back with her legs bound too that the hood is harshly yanked off and she shuts her eyes at the bright light above her, much like driving on the road at night and being blinded by powerful LEDs. As her vision clears, she sees the captors who’d managed to get the jump on her and in turn, capture Ghost as well, and he’s in the same position as she is, but there’s definitely more rope around him than there is her. She snarls at them when they come close, baring her teeth in a way that says, “touch me and lose a finger.”

“What do you want from us?” she gripes, voice devoid of any emotion but annoyance.

“Answers,” the leader asks. “You know where the resistance is hiding out.”

The second one crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell us where their headquarters are.”

She spits down at their feet. “Suck my dick.” A moment, a pause before a backhand sends her careening to the side, chair tipping slightly and she growls, turning back to face him with blood dripping down her split lip; she licks it, the wound stings but it burns in a way she likes. “Your dad hit me harder than that last night,” she cracks back, and the man grabs at her chin, hauling her upright until they’re nose to nose.

“I will make you scream in ways you’ve never imagined.”

“That’s what I told your mom before I—”

His other hand reaches for her combat vest, and she thrashes as he undoes it and yanks it open; he’s centimeters from the thin tank top she wears and only then does Ghost make a single noise, the scraping of a chair, fingers clenching white on the arm rest as he snarls, “Touch her and I’ll fucking smear the goddamn walls with you.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a fucking warning. One not to be ignored.

The man pauses, looks to the side, sees Ghost’s golden eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. His breathing isn’t labored. It’s calm. Deadly calm. And the man, taking in the sunken nose of Ghost’s full-face mask, the raised skeletal plates, decides perhaps this isn’t a fight he really wants neither then nor later.

He lets her go and she sinks back into her chair, but Ghost’s eyes don’t leave the man even as he slinks behind his commander. The ropes at his wrists strain under Ghost’s flexing forearms and she hums low in her throat.

“Easy,” she murmurs. “Not here.”

This time Ghost eyes both of the enemy captors, and he answers, a barely-contained, seething rage in his chest and out of his throat, “I’ll fucking kill any bastard that touches what’s mine.” He snarls beneath the mask, and she feels it deep in her chest, the sound reverberating through her. “I’ll fucking rip your guts out through your back. Touch her again. I dare you.”

This time, even the commander shifts nervously on his feet, and he clears his throat in an exaggerated fashion to ease whatever fear is ebbing in his stomach as he turns to the second and says, “We’ll come back with more questions.”

“Don’t keep us waiting long,” she retorts, watching them leave and as the door shuts and locks, she reaches out, brushing her fingers against Ghost’s knuckle and all at once, he relaxes his grip. “Easy, Simon,” she calms, and he lets out a single deep breath.

“I don’t like people touching you.”

“You can’t kill everyone who does,” she jokes, and he looks over at her, his eyes glinting in the light, a solid ring of gold around a deep pit of a void; her throat dries up at the beastly hunger in them, but no fear is in her heart, in fact, quite the opposite.

“I’m the only one allowed to fucking touch you.” He looks down at the silver necklace on her chest. “You’re mine. All. Fucking. Mine.”

She swallows thickly, the S dangling at the apex of her throat feeling like a branding, but it doesn’t hurt, she loves the burn, craves it, wants to drown in it—in him. “Yeah, Simon,” she breathes, heart pounding in her chest. “I’m all yours.”

[acourtofmarvels]

You Called

Rhysand x she/her POV

Warnings: Miscommunication :D

Word count: 2746

Rhysand watched as she danced under the starfall. Absolutely beautiful. The most beautiful female he'd ever layed eyes on.

She was his mate.

That word seems foreign in his head. 200 years old, he never thought he would ever find his mate.

She didn't know though. The bond hadn't set for her. At least thats what he thought. He'd known for about 20 years now. His brothers had some suspicion but he didn't tell anyone.

He tried for about 15 years to get the bond to set for her. He wanted it to come naturally and not be the one to tell her. It's not the right time, he thought. So he gave it a rest for now.

He couldn't be around her though, so he distanced himself for 5 years. Only approaching or speaking to her when needed.

Her POV

"Did I do something to Rhysand?" It was late at night, Starfall was over. I had drug Mor to stay with me in the House of Wind. Usually we would stay at the townhouse but I wasn't feeling entirely sure I was welcome.

"What do you mean?" Mor mumbled. She was very drunk and trying to sleep. I didn't drink much tonight, which was not normal for me. I always go all out for nights like this like but I had to much on my mind tonight. I couldn't even fully appreciate starfall.

I had a nice night, don't get me wrong. But the whole time I just had this aching pain in my chest I didn't understand. 

"He just seems different. He barely talks to me anymore. Barely even acknowledges me. I don't know what I did..." He can't possibly know. 

"Babe, just relax. It's probably nothing. He gets in moods sometimes." More voice was quiet. I know she was fighting sleep to talk to me. I shouldn't have had this conversation at a time like this.

"Some long ass mood..."

***

"Az! Please wake up! Open your eyes, Azriel." I shook his shoulders. We had been shot down from the sky. When he hit the ground he was knocked unconscious. Even with the ash arrow through my wing I was still able to land.

We had been on a mission for the past 2 weeks. We were flying home from Spring Court when multiple ash arrows started flying through the air. Azriel blocked most of them from me but I still got shot. I couldn't grab him in time before he hit the ground.

It was night time. I could barely see anything through the trees and the dark sky.

I could hear footsteps and voices getting closer. I must protect Azriel. I'm wounded but I won't go down without a fight.

I needed to get help. I covered Azriel's body with my own as I closed my eyes. Rhys. I wasn't sure if I could reach him from this far. Rhys I need you. What if he has me completely blocked out? Rhysand please, they're coming.

The footsteps were close. I pried myself off of Azriel, pulled my sword off my side and stood up straight. My body ached. I could feel the poison from the arrows weakening my body, making me sicker by the second.

I think I blacked out, fighting these people, whoever they were. I didn't stop, couldn't stop. My body was drenched in their blood, or maybe it was my own blood.

I was overpowered. Knife to my throat. This was it. This is where I die. I can't save Azriel. I can't save myself. Killed by men in masks.

"Cowards," I choked out, blood dripping from my mouth. "Show your faces."

"Illyrian scum." The one holding the dagger to my neck said viciously. "Don't worry. We'll send your wings to your High Lord. Then we'll take his when we-" his sentence was cut short by his head coming off his body.

I gasped as the dagger nicked my neck slightly. The rest of his men began screaming loudly, holding their heads as they all fell to their knees. Then, absolute silence. And they were all dead.

I turned around quickly, still on the ground to see who killed my attackers. I let out a sob as I saw his familiar, piercing violet eyes.

He was on his knees before me, taking hold of my face in his hands. He looked over at all my injuries.

"You came," my voice failed me. I was holding onto him for support. I knew I was about to lose consciousness from the ash poison and the loss of blood.

"You called. Of course I came. What happened?"

"Azriel, you have to take him. Take him home now, Rhys." I pleaded with him, tears I had been holding back began to roll down my face. "He's hurt. I couldn't wake him up. Take him, please."

Rhys whipped his head over to Azriel who was unconscious in his own puddle of blood. I was praying that he was just unconscious and not...

"I'll be back for you." Rhys placed a kiss on the top of my head before he picked Azriel up in his arms and winnowed away. 

He's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay. He's gonna be...

I'm not sure how long Rhys was gone. Minutes or seconds but I was growing tired. My body was failing on me. I was defeated. The poison was still in my system. I had to stay awake.

"Keep your eyes open," the order was from my High Lord. Not my Rhys. 

"I'm tired Rhys." He picked me up off the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck weakly. 

"You're gonna be okay sweetheart. We're home now. Just keep your eyes open." I could hear other voices around me. I could recognize Madja's voice. But I was only focused on Rhys. He set me down on a bed and began to walk away. 

"Please don't leave me." I held onto his hand tight. His promise that he would never leave me was the last thing I heard before I finally slipped into sleep. 

That's me. Why can I see myself sleeping? Is this a dream?

"She's okay, we've got her." I looked around the room, Madja was by my beside working her magic to heal me. 

"What the hell happened?" My line of vision went to Mor as she burst into the room. My heart was beating so fast, anger coursed through my veins. 

"Keep your voice down." That voice rang in my ear as if I just spoke. Rhysand. Rhysand spoke. Where was he? "They were attacked outside of Summer. They're okay."

I was looking at myself again. Aching sadness and guilt ran through me. No. No this wasn't me. This isn't what I'm feeling. I see myself through Rhysand's eyes. These are Rhy's emotions I feel.

His emotions were overwhelming. Everything he felt for me was maxed out to 100. He felt sick. Guilt was the most I could feel. Then sadness... Anger... Regret.

He felt guilty for not getting there sooner. For not being able to protect his brother and me. Sadness for the state we were both in. Anger for the men who hurt us. And regret for not making them suffer longer. 

Mor was talking to Cassian. I could hear their voices but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Rhys was tuning them out as he watched my sleeping figure on the bed. His thumb rubbing circles on the back of my hand. 

Theres something else here. I can feel it within him but... but I don't know what it is. 

I finally awoke hours later. That was such a weird dream. Or at least I thought it was a dream until I looked to my right and Rhysand was sitting beside me. His hand was still holding onto mine but he was fast asleep. 

He didn't leave. He stayed like I asked. He looked cold. I should give him my blanket. 

I barely moved a centimeter in my bed before Rhys woke up. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" He moved closer to me. He placed a hand on the side of my face gently as he looked me over. 

My whole body warmed to his touch upon my cheek. He was so close. 

I opened my mouth to speak but my mouth was far too dry. Rhys noticed immediately, using his magic to bring me a glass of water. "Here." His voice was so soft as he brought the glass to my lips so I could drink.

I was trying not to laugh at his protectiveness. I know he was worried, had been worried. But I'm alright now. I wanted to tease him but maybe I'll take this attention some more.

"I'm alright," I assured him. I took the glass from his hand and placed it on the nightstand after I took another sip. 

He kept looking me over. I was sore but I know my wounds have healed now. 

"You can go now, I wouldn't want to bother you any longer." I tried to remove my hand from his but his grip only tightened. 

"You could never bother me," he sounded hurt by the word I used. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Damn you heart. Don't flutter now. You can't do this.

I tried to slowly inhale and exhale out my nose, trying to calm my breathing. He can't know how I'm feeling. He can't know that I'm his mate. 

"Azriel, is he alright?" I tried to cover up my nervousness by thinking of something else. Why does he keep staring at me?

"Azriel will heal, it will just take longer for him. But he'll be back to himself in no time." 5 years. This was the longest conversation we had in 5 years. He pushed me away right after the bond snapped for me.

I honestly didn't know how to react after it. It was so unexpected. I had know Rhys for so long, he was my family and my best friend. Why did it take so long for this apparent bond to snap into place? Was the Cauldron playing a game with us?

I'd always had a little crush on him but always pushed it aside. Falling for my High Lord? It was embarrassing. Everyone in Velaris most likely had a crush on him. How could you not? Have you seen him?

He still hasn't let go of my damned hand. Gods, it felt like my hand was on fire. 

There was silence for so long. Rhys wasn't looking at me. He stared down at our conjoined hands. His brow furrowed as he was deep in thought.

"You seemed surprised when I arrived. Like you expected me not to come help you." He seemed angry.

My face heated up in embarrassment. "I-I just didn't think you would be able to hear me from so far away."

"No, that's not it. You expected me not to come to your aid. Why?" 

I was flustered. I hated he could read me so well. My shields were always in tact so I knew he wasn't in my head.

I tried to pull my hand away but his grip only tightened. "Let me go." He of course let go at my wish. 

"Why did you think I wouldn't help you?" His voice raised slightly.

He would keep pushing if I didn't give him an answer. He had no right to be mad at me. I should be mad at him. "Because you have been cold! Distant! Did you know this is the longest conversation we have had in nearly five years? I did expect you not to come. You hardly speak to me and when you do, you answer with one worded responses. You avoid me. Do you think I haven't noticed when you make some sorry ass excuse to leave when I enter the room? I don't know what I have done for you to dislike me so. So sorry for expecting you to not come to my aid when i ask of you."

I was furious. If my body wasn't so sore and tired I would have stormed out of the room dramatically. Now it's just awkward because he is sitting there not saying anything. Not denying it either.

"You think I dislike you?" His voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.

"Why else would you ignore me?"

He looked like he wanted to say something else but he bit his tongue. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "You are not ready for that answer."

So he admits it. He has been pushing me away. Purposefully it seems. The answer 'I'm not ready for'. Asshole.

I hated myself for the tears that weld up in my eyes. My mate doesn't even want to be around me. 

"You don't get to decide what I can and cannot handle." I looked away from him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"This isn't easy for me." Gods I wanted to punch him so bad.

"I have zero pity for you. Must be so hard pushing someone away who has done nothing but love you." I was already humiliated enough, why not put a cherry on top. Might as well tell him how I feel.

"No, no. Don't say that. You don't love me." He was pacing back and forth in front of my bed now.

"Of course I love you. I have loved you even before we-" I was the one who bit my tongue this time. 

His eyes bore into mine. "Before what?"

Can he really not feel it? This bond between us? I feel it in every bone in my body. From the bottom of my feet to the top of my wings.

"Before what?" He almost yelled.

"Before we were mates!" I yelled back at him. "There! I said it! Are you happy now? Get the fuck out!" I threw a pillow at him.

"How long have you known?"

"Get out, Rhys! I don't want to have this conversation right now." I threw another pillow at him. It was all I had around me. He caught it and threw it at the wall behind him.

"Goddamit it, Y/N! How long have you known?"

"5 years. 5 years of feeling this bond with someone who has given me the cold shoulder."

"15 fucking years I tried. I tried 15 years for the bond to set into place naturally for you and of course the second I stop trying... The moment I stopped putting myself through all that pain and decide to give you space it fucking clicks."

I think my heart stopped beating for a second. I was temped to reach my fingers to my neck and check my pulse to make sure I hadn't died.

"What?" I almost didn't even hear my own voice.

"I've known for 20 years that you're my mate and loved you for even longer before that. Guess the cauldron really wanted to fuck us over." He walked back over to the side of the bed and sat back down in his original spot. He let out a sigh of defeat. 

"How could you not tell me?" Tears rolled down my face. 

"You didn't tell me either..." I almost rolled my eyes. I had my reasons, I wanted to know his. He must have picked up that I wanted a legitimate answer. 

"I... Wanted you to love me, for me. Not because we were mates." He looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

"Rhys..." I pleaded him to look at me. "Rhysand." He lifted his head finally. "You're my best friend. I am lost without you. Sometimes I-I feel I cannot breathe without you. My heart beats for you," pushing through the pain I moved to the side of my bed. I grabbed his hand and placed it over my heart. "It has always beat for you."

"You are my everything," he replies, taking my own hand and placing it upon his heart as well. It felt as if our heart's were both beating erratically in sync. He leaned forward till our foreheads were pressed together. My eyes closed on instinct, the tears still rolled down my cheeks.

"I thought I lost you. I have never been more terrified in my entire life," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

"I am here." I pulled away only an inch. I placed my other hand on the side of his face, beckoning him to look my in the eyes. "I am not going anywhere."

"I love you with everything that I am. I cannot live without you. My heart calls your name." He wiped the tears from my face before pressing our lips together.

Acotar Masterlist

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty seven : the apostate

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ☆ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 6.0k

summary : judgement day. (din's version)

warnings: language, angst, violence, gore, blood, torture, murder, death, ro makes things up about infection bc they're too scared to google it (what if there's gross pics??), din is morally grey at times, pregnancy

a/n: worked a ten hour shift, got home, made an iced coffee, hammered away at my anvil until this was written and edited. now it's bed time lol

Silence.

That’s all there is in his brain. 

It’s hard enough as is for him to hear. It doesn’t help when he’s been beaten half to death. All it had taken was a few firm punches to the side of the head and any remaining hearing in that ear was lost. 

It’s not looking great. Or sounding great, all he can hear is ringing as he hits the ground, hard. He knows someone is yelling at him but how the fuck is he supposed to know what they’re saying when he can feel a thin bead if blood dripping from his ear canal. 

He never manages to figure out what they’re saying but he gets the gist of it when his armor is ripped from his body. He puts up as much of a fight as he can manage, his efforts skyrocketing when they yank his helmet off, leaving him bare before a couple of guards. 

For the first time in his life he knows what it's like to have that choice taken away from him. 

And he cannot hide the fear and discomfort that come with losing his helmet behind a mask any longer. Thankfully he isn’t exposed for very long, per Kodo’s orders his face is to remain covered. Of course they go with the most humiliating option, a fabric bag thrown over his head. It’s somehow worse than being exposed, now he can’t hear or see. 

So there’s no warning for the beating that immediately follows his imprisonment. 

He’s been in countless fights through the course of his life but nothing like this. He’s never been unable to fight back. They restrain him and beat him senseless, and he can’t so much as hold his hands up in defense. 

And then they leave.

He has no way to tell the time. So he simply sits and waits in the emptiness that is his life now. 

Until someone new comes in to beat the shit out of him. 

It’s a horrific existence, to sit in the cold darkness, unable to hear an approaching threat until they’re actively upon you. He doesn’t know when it happens but at one point he loses all feeling in one of his legs, he knows he was cut there but he has no idea how bad it is. He spends his time trying to assess his wounds, he stretches out what parts of himself he can as he does his best to keep his blood flowing. 

And the entire time all he can think of is you.

He knows nothing of what’s become of you. He did everything in his power to ensure that you would be blameless but he has no idea if it worked, that itself is a worse torture than any of this. He’s in agony wondering if you’re down here in a cell receiving the same treatment as he is. 

☆

He didn’t think things could possibly get worse. 

Until the day when the footsteps stopped before his cell and the door to Elaine’s swung open instead. 

He heard most of it. 

Every wet, gory sound. 

He took his time with her, laughing all the while and when he was finally done Din called out to her. 

All he got in response was the faint, distant sounds of her agony. 

The next day he feared they had returned to finish her off when he heard the ear piercing screech of her door opening but Elaine’s screams turned to soft whines. After a while his own door shrieked open, it took him a while to realize who it was but after she repeated herself a few times he was able to make out the word Lysa and was able to relax briefly. She tried to feed him but he told her he was fine, despite the twisting pain in his stomach, he’d lost too much. 

His face is all he has left. It’s all he can cling to now.

She tries every day despite his protests but he doesn’t mind. He likes having someone to talk to, it helps his hearing when he can focus on one person speaking at a time. 

Then came the day where he felt hands on his chest and he tensed in anticipation of a hit that never came. 

It took a while to register and for a moment he thought it was a trick but he recognized the smell of you, and the familiar, gentle nature of your touches. 

You were an angel. 

Feeding him, being with him, loving him. 

He would have done almost anything for five more minutes with you when Lysa told you it was time to leave but he knew you couldn’t be caught down here, it just wasn’t safe, so he let you go.

And he found peace in the knowledge that you were unharmed. 

From that point forward he endured for you. 

Not in hopes that you would find some way to get him out, or that he might find his way back to you. He endured simply for you. For the idea that he might get to look upon your face one last time before he goes.

He had just about accepted his fate when Lysa came to him, unlocking his cuffs. 

“I messed with the shift schedule.” She speaks in a hushed whisper directly into his ear so he can hear her.

“What?”

“I messed with the schedule, for the next two hours there will be no guards, one empty window. I’m taking Elaine, gonna get her off planet.”

“Nevarro.” They’ll be safe there, maybe someday he’ll bring you to visit them. 

“Where is that?”

“It’s an outer rim territory, go there, find Greef Karga and tell him Din Djarin sent you.” 

“I will.” She presses the key into his palm. “You won’t get a second chance. Don’t waste this.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing this for you.” It isn’t said with cruelty, it’s a fact. 

That’s okay, he’s doing this for you as well. 

And just like that she’s gone, when he takes the bag off his head he’s alone. Immediately he gets to his feet, nearly screaming in pain as he tries to figure out what his next move is. 

“Don’t waste this.” 

She’s right. 

He won’t get another chance, he can’t mess this up. 

If he leaves Naboo he knows he’ll never get you back. They will lock you away, you’ll be hidden in some tower making heirs for that monster, never allowed back in the public eye while the “dangerous” Mandalorian is free. 

That’s his reasoning. He tries not to think too hard about the other aspect of running away. 

That you might think he left you. 

Finding you and taking you with him sounds like a good option but when he really thinks about it he realizes the risks are simply too high. 

If they realize he’s gone and you’re gone before you can get on a ship they’ll close every port on Naboo, you’ll be trapped on this wretched planet and hunted like animals. 

It wouldn’t matter much anyway, getting that far would require him being able to run. With the condition he’s in he isn’t even sure he can walk. It takes some work, and a lot of biting his own fist to silence himself but he manages to stumble across his cell. 

So running isn’t an option. 

And he can’t leave you. 

He promised himself he would never leave you again, he stayed when you told him to go, he stayed those four days of waiting, and he’ll stay now. 

But he has to be smart, and he has to be lucky. 

So he sits back against the wall, sliding his wrists back into the cuffs, leaving them unlocked.

And he waits. 

☆

He can’t make out much of what the man is saying but he recognizes the low, gravely timber. It’s the same man who’s tormented him several times but more importantly it’s the man who hurt Elaine. 

The bag is ripped off of him and he can’t help but light up at the sight of only one man. 

He can handle one man. 

He’s weaker than usual, and he isn’t expecting it when his mouth is forced open, a knife slicing into his tongue. 

It’s more difficult than it ever has been to fight, every muscle and injury screams for him to stop but he still manages to get the man on his back, from there all he has to do is slam his head into the stone. 

It’s been a long time since he had to kill someone. 

He thought it would feel worse, he’d be lying if he said that being around you hasn’t softened him up. But he feels fine, almost accomplished. He’s one step closer to you. He drags the body to an open cell a few down from his, taking the man’s uniform he dresses himself and takes his own clothes, tossing them back into his cell as he moves as fast as he can with a barely working leg. 

The guard's uniform fits but the man's skin is significantly paler than Din’s, he’ll never pass as him. 

“You won’t get a second chance.” 

Walk and think. 

Think of a plan on your way to it. 

He marches out of the dungeons, every step is agony, and his mouth continues to bleed as he tries to think of people he wouldn’t mind killing who wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. 

The answer comes to him while he’s rubbing the raw skin of his wrists. 

He’s known since he started working here just how shitty the security is. Even in his current state it’s rather easy for him to sneak into the guards station at the front entrance of the castle. It’s even easier for him to search through their bracelet database and find out exactly where the bastard is. 

He wasn’t sure why he planted the bracelet on him that day in the market, a small part of him always did want to go back and find him, maybe teach him some manners. It was easy to slip the tracker into his bag, he even truly considered killing him at one point just to send a message to any one else who might try to touch you but you wouldn’t have wanted that, so he let it be. 

He hopes you won’t be too mad. 

He simply finds the tracker labeled ‘Mandalorian - LOST’ and memorizes the location, thankfully it appears to be in a residential area just outside the castle. He takes one extra moment to search through a few extra files, when he finds the staff lists he’s met with three blank spaces.

He fills in one of them.

Every step is blistering pain but he breathes heavily through his mouth, continuing to push through as he descends the steps towards his goal. He can’t help but wonder if he even has the strength to do any of this but what else is there to do? He has to get back to you. 

Whatever it takes. 

Later on, when he tells you what happened on this night he makes up a story, simple and believable, because in all honesty he doesn’t even know how he did any of it. His own strength in that moment frightens him a bit, all he knows is that he was looking for the man who accosted you in the markets all those moons ago and the next thing he knew he was standing in a halo of broken glass in the man's home. 

He knows you probably wouldn’t approve but he had wanted to kill him the first time he had grabbed you in the market, after the second time he wanted to make it hurt. The dungeons are a mercy compared to what Din would do to him. 

He’s running out of time so he has to improvise, he knocks the man out when he finds him in his bedroom, tearing the welding goggles off the nameless man's head. He cuts his hair with a shard of glass from the window, trying and failing to make it resemble his own.

It’ll have to do. 

He tells himself before dragging the body in through the back servant's entrance he’s used several times to sneak in and out of the castle with you.

He’s slick with sweat, at least his leg doesn’t hurt anymore, by the time he gets to the bottom of the steps there's barely any feeling in it at all. 

It’s one hell of a task, getting the nameless man into the cell and chained to the wall unnoticed but by some stroke of luck he does it, finishing his task by removing the man's tongue in one swift motion with a knife. Silencing the only witness to his escape. 

He looks over everything, making sure it’s all in its perfect place before adding the finishing touch, a bag over his head. Once it’s done he rushes towards the dungeon's entrance. 

He should move, get out of there and fast but he can’t help himself. Not after what they did to Elaine. 

So he checks the shift schedule, he waits until the last possible moment, when the next shift of guards arrives he hands them the tongue, trying not to wince at the undisturbed look on their faces, and he tells them that he’s going to do one last sweep before they switch. They all seem more than happy to have someone else doing the rounds. And he takes his time, slowly and methodically checking every cell until he gets to Elaine’s, and even then he waits just a little longer, giving them as much time as possible to get on a ship and far away from here. 

Even if it’s just a few extra seconds. 

Then he yells. 

His words make no sense and are garbled because of the state of his tongue but he gets the message across just fine. 

He yells that there’s been an escape, that a prisoner is missing and in the commotion of it all he slips away. On his way back to you. 

He’s so focused on seeing you again it never even crosses his mind just how many people have now seen him without his helmet. 

☆

“You won’t get a second chance. Don’t waste this.”

Lysa’s words continue to echo through his head. 

He has to do this exactly right. Or he’ll lose you all over again. 

He has to get into the castle. The quickest way to you is going to be being a staff member, but first he has to make himself presentable. So he goes to the cabin. Surprisingly untouched, Kodo must not have cared enough to have it vacated. 

He’s barely standing when he stumbles in through the door, heading straight to the fresher and peeling back the boards that hide his bacta stash. 

He is so fucked up when he finally looks in the mirror. He's practically a wild animal as he scrambles to get a vial of bacta open.

It’s unbelievable that no one asked him if he was okay, his face is mangled. Large gashes originate at his mouth and move up and down his face. A deep cut runs across the bridge of his nose, coincidentally directly over a scar he already had. 

He makes quick work of it. Lathering a thick layer of bacta onto each wound before opening his mouth. Thankfully his tongue is still attached in some places, it’s easy to coat in the healing ointment but it’s difficult to keep it from bleeding, but he manages. The real challenge is his leg. He limps out to the kitchen with a bottle of bacta between his teeth. Grabbing himself a knife from the drawer as he sits at the kitchen table, propping his leg up on a chair with a groan. 

Fuck. 

He’s seen enough battle injuries to know just how bad it is. Dark lines that he knows mean infection run along his calf. 

“Fuck.” He verbalizes his distress as he peels back more of his pants.

Okay.

The infection doesn’t go past his knee. 

Okay.

He doesn’t have time to be in denial over how bad it is.

He has the credits to cover a prosthetic but he doesn’t have the time. He’ll be in recovery for ages and that simply isn’t an option now. He can fight off the infection for a few more weeks but after that there’s no way he’ll be able to keep his leg. 

He can’t leave you alone in that castle with Kodo. 

So he steels himself, grabbing a wooden spoon off the counter to bite down on as he cautiously cuts away any decaying flesh as well as chunks of meat where the infection is worst. He’s lightheaded when he fumbles through one of his drawers for his cauterizer, sealing each wound with an unsettling sizzling sound. 

He feels half dead when he finishes, haphazardly pouring the contents of the bacta bottle onto his leg before passing out on the kitchen floor.

☆

As eager as he is to get back into the castle he knows he needs at least one more day to recover. So he tends to his wounds, and tries to teach himself how to walk all over again. 

He takes no breaks, keeping himself in a constant state of motion until the next day. He dresses in the provided clothes from the cabin, a wave of self consciousness washes over him as he walks up the palace steps in broad daylight, face on display for all. 

He gives the name he had put into the files at the door. 

Written on a slip of paper.

Din Djarin

His tongue is still healing, when he tries to speak all he can manage is a few incoherent syllables so he doesn’t bother.

He barely holds it together when he’s face to face with Kodo, he can’t believe that he’s directly dealing with servants until he begins explaining to them that they are to report any and all strange behavior from the queen back to him. 

And then he’s taken into a room. 

And he gets to see you for the first time in weeks. 

He doesn’t even get to feel a fleeting sense of joy because there is something terribly wrong with you. 

That’s the first thought that crosses his mind when he’s finally brought before you. 

It’s the scariest thing he’s ever done, to stand before you, face bare. His good leg shakes like all hell and he can’t figure out what to do with his hands. Being found out isn’t even a concern at this point; he just hopes you’re okay because it’s more than clear to him that you aren’t well. 

Your face looks hollow and his immediate worry is that you haven’t been eating. Your eyes have gone dull, his heart aches as he realizes the fire that he fell for is gone. 

He yearns to step forward and fix it. To reignite what’s burned out but you won’t even look at him. 

He so badly wishes you would just look, maybe, somehow you’d know. 

But you never do. 

You just leave, locking yourself away once more and he’s stuck with a week of staff training before he gets to see you again. 

☆

You aren’t the same after the execution. 

He had tried to warn you, to give you some kind of sign that you weren’t alone, but you’d thrown the daisies into a wall and he couldn’t do a thing to help you. He wanted so badly to say something, anything, to let you know it was him but he was only just starting to get singular words out and he just couldn’t keep up when you ran, his leg getting worse by the day. 

You just wouldn’t look at him. 

He had managed to purchase a hearing aid for his still working ear so he was able to hear the rumors the other servants said about you.

They were all mostly the same.

That you’d lost it. 

That Kodo had driven you mad and you were going to snap. 

He kept a closer eye on you after that, he had even tried leaving a different flower, blue lilies, like the ones you had back home, but they received the same treatment as the daisies. 

It was the day he started talking again that you snapped. 

After two weeks of bacta treatments he had regained feeling in his tongue completely and could speak, it was late at night when he’d finally done it and he wasted no time going to find you. Instead he found your room empty, when he knocked the guards told him you’d left. 

So he searched for you.

As quickly as someone with a barely working leg could. 

He caught sight of you just as you started making your way up the tower steps, Kodo’s hand in yours. The sight made his stomach drop but he followed you regardless. To say that he was in anguish was an understatement. He had been avoiding stairs for a while now and suddenly he had to climb an entire tower's worth. 

He was slow moving, making progress at a snail's pace until he heard your screams. High above him he heard raw and pained cries and suddenly it was like he had no limp at all, as he ran the rest of the way to you. 

When he found you he couldn’t stand upright any longer, he collapsed on the floor and pulled you to him, his hands shook as he got to feel your warmth for the first time in ages. 

Any pain he was in temporarily fizzled out when you held him back.

He made it back to you.

☆

You can’t stop looking at him. 

You’re aware of the circumstances, you should act first, look later but he’s here. Actually, really here. You aren’t imagining it, you can feel him under your trembling palms, he’s real. 

Your Din. 

You don’t even know where to start. 

How did you miss all this? 

The hawkish nose you’ve felt against your skin countless times. Plush lips, thick eyelashes, and dark eyes you’ve only ever dreamed about. It’s hard in the darkness but you can see just how pretty he is. Your pretty boy. 

“We should run. No more wasting time, no more excuses. Just you and me on a ship.” His voice becomes urgent and you know he’s right but you can’t get on a ship, they’ll never let you leave the grounds. 

“They’ll never stop looking for us. Maybe before I killed Kodo we could have gotten away with some cunning escape, but now? I just committed regicide. They won’t let us go.” Your voice is starting to go shrill as your panic rises. 

“What other choice do we have?” 

Kriff.

Can’t stay, can’t leave.    

Your mind races as you close your eyes to think, letting the pieces fall together until you have a coherent plan. 

“What if there was a way no one would ever come looking for us?” You take his hand, intertwining your fingers. “We wouldn’t have to hide. No more secrets, just us. We live here and no one objects.” 

“Cyare, that just isn’t a possibility.” 

But it is.

“I’ve been reading a lot, when I lost you, I read a lot. And not just romance books, every book I could get my hands on, I learned a little about this planet's history. According to Naboo royalty traditions, I take Kodo’s place as the reigning monarch.” 

“I thought it passed to the closest living male relative.” He gives you a skeptical look.

Not if they think you’re carrying the last king's child.

“No… it goes to me.” You mumble, thinking over everything else. You have to think fast and you have to think smart. He doesn’t dare interrupt as you focus.

You’ve covered everything on your mental checklist when a dark thought crosses your mind. 

“Would you think less of me if I did something out of spite?” You whisper, holding him tighter. “If I wanted to do something terrible?” 

“I would kill a man for looking at you if you asked me to.”

You don’t doubt that. 

“Do you trust me?” You start to stand, taking his hands as you help him to his feet. 

“Always.” 

“Then I need you to get Leo for me.” He frowns the moment you say his name. 

“You’re sure?” You nod, pressing your face into his neck. 

“I need you to do it, I can’t.” He knows you aren’t just asking him to bring Leo here, you’re asking him to end this. 

“Of course.” He murmurs. “One last terrible thing.”

One last terrible thing. 

Then you’re done.

“Bring him here, then I need you to follow my lead from there, there’s no more time to deliberate. We have to act, now.” You both know you’ve spent too much time planning, you pull him close, hugging him tightly before letting him rush back down the stairs. Your brow furrows when you see just how hard walking seems to be for him. 

You spend the few minutes that he is away trying to steady your breathing. Your mind is having a hard time deciding what to focus on. All you want to think about is Din but you know you’ll have plenty of time to do that once the two of you are safe. 

 It doesn’t take long, eventually you see Leo making his way up the stairs, Din isn’t far behind. 

You consider for the briefest moment, just forgiving him. 

For the longest time you considered Leo to be nothing more than someone who could be a bit annoying, you never thought of him as downright cruel. 

But then you see his expression. 

He looks at you as if he’s owed something and all your resistance snaps. You know he can’t see Kodo’s body in the darkness so you let him walk to you. 

“My queen…” He approaches skeptically as Din blocks the entrance.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Mandalorian.” You clear your throat and he immediately frowns.

“I do not think that is wise.”

“Did you know him, at all?” This has nothing to do with your plan, you just need to know. 

“I only interacted with him in brief instances.” You nod slowly. 

“And you knew how much he meant to me when you handed him that death sentence, right?” At this moment it doesn’t matter that Din is alive and well. You don’t care about that. You care about the days of agony he was put through, the pain Elaine had inflicted upon her when she got caught in the crossfire. 

“There’s no reason for us to have this conversation.” He almost turns to leave but you speak again. 

“I love him.”

“Loved.” He snaps back quickly, as if this entire ordeal is exhausting to him. 

Your jaw twitches. 

“Do you think he suffered down there?”

“Not at all, he was given a swift death, I’d consider him lucky.” 

“What about Elaine?” You’re surprised when Din speaks, Leo seems just as taken aback as you are. 

“She got what she deserved for witnessing an act of treason and doing nothing about it.” 

That’s the final straw for both of you.

“You know what, I think you are deserving of a reward, Leo. Din?” You look just over Leodall’s shoulder where Din’s eyes have gone nearly black. 

“Turn around and cover your ears.” The voice that speaks is one you didn’t think you’d ever hear again, it isn’t Din, it’s darker, deadlier. The Mandalorian is speaking now and you do exactly as you’re told. You turn, squeezing your eyes shut, you put your hands over your ears but even that cannot keep out the sounds of the carnage behind you. 

He takes his time. 

At first you aren’t sure how he kept him so quiet but when Din turns you around to face him you see how. It would be hard to call for help with a broken jaw, especially after your own tongue was shoved down your throat. 

You squint, searching over the damage to his body and see where Din carefully wrapped Leo’s stiff fingers around the vibroblade. 

“Are you okay?” He’s covered in gore when he asks and you simply nod, a few stray tears in your lash line. 

“I’m going to finish this.” You mumble, giving him one last look of reassurance before you do the thing you’ve been doing quite a lot of lately. 

You scream. 

You shriek, holding yourself closely to Din. It’s mostly an act, your wails of terror that echo through the halls. But a small part of you truly wonders if you’ll ever recover from the things you’ve done tonight.

After a few nerve wracking minutes you’ve got dozens of guards taking in the sight of your mess. 

You both play your parts perfectly. 

You cling to Din like a lifeline as you tell the head guard what happened. 

“Kodo and I, we- we were walking around the castle, he wanted to show me the view from the tower.” With a quivering finger you point to the window you know has the best view of the castle grounds. “We were celebrating. We were so happy we didn’t even see Leo following us.” You hide your face in Din’s tunic, letting out a shuddering exhale to imitate a sob. “I had just told him I was with child when Leodall attacked me.” You make a real spectacle of yourself as you weep against Din’s shirt, Din who notably goes rigid. “Kodo tried to protect me, he wanted to protect his heir but Leo just- he-” You whimper, earning yourself a room full of sympathetic gazes. “I screamed for help and thankfully this servant was here, he saved my life.” 

That’s all they need to be convinced, after all, who wouldn’t believe the queen.

At one point you’re asked why Leo would ever do such a thing. 

You tell them he hated Kodo.

Because he refused to make him a lord. 

And you speak loud enough for every guard in the room to hear you when you tell them that Elaine was innocent, that Leo falsely accused her. 

There were never any follow up questions. All of it made sense to them and even though it came from a terrible thing you’re free. You’re more than free. According to the way the monarchy on Naboo is structured you’re technically queen regent until your child comes of age. 

Kodo gets to die a hero.

The king who sacrificed his life for his unborn child. (That bothers you for quite some time.) 

But he dies nonetheless. 

And you can live with that because at the end of the day they’re putting him in the ground and you’re up here, with Din. You’ll have to wait an appropriate amount of mourning time before you take his hand in public, but he’s yours now. No one can tell you otherwise, what kind of person tells a widowed queen what she can and can’t do?

When the room clears you take him to your chambers, dismissing the guards who stand watch. 

“Kodo’s dead, leave me be.” Is all you say as you push past them with Din, you hear a brief worried discussion outside your door before they leave in a hurry. Din looks around the destruction of your room with a look of concern before his eyes settle on you. “Sorry, I- uh, didn’t handle things well when I thought you were- well.” You mumble apologetically but his look of worry is no longer focused on your room, it’s on your stomach as he makes his way over to you, carefully stepping over the mess.  

“Are you- are you really…?” 

“Yeah.” You smile at him but his reaction isn’t exactly what you were expecting. 

He cups your face in his hands, searching your eyes for any signs of distress but you know he won’t find any. Right now it doesn’t matter that you’ve done unimaginable things. It doesn’t matter that you’ve killed. Because somehow, despite it all, Din is okay. 

“I’m so sorry. If I had known I would have killed him long before you did.” He murmurs. 

“Hmm?” You hum softly, unable to tear your eyes away from his intense gaze. In the light you can see a little scar across the bridge of his nose, you want to reach out and touch it. 

“It doesn’t matter to me. We can do whatever you want, I’ll raise them as my own. I am more than willing to love this piece of you.” There’s a painful sincerity in his face and you become hyper aware of the fact that he assumes your baby really is Kodo’s. 

“Din-” Almost immediately he interrupts you; he drags his hands down your body, resting them on your stomach. 

“And we can live in the cabin. I’ll build a nursery the moment everything settles down, I will be the only father they ever know.”

“Din.” You say a bit more stern, trying to snap him out of his rambling. 

“Sarad’ika.” His thumb rubs a small circle against the fabric of your nightie. 

“It isn’t Kodo’s.” You give him a reassuring smile as he freezes in place. 

And you get to see it all. 

Every emotion you never got to enjoy when he was hidden behind steel. 

You get to watch as his concern melts away into a brief confusion that is quickly replaced with shock and processing. You get to see the way his eyes soften, and his lips part ever so slightly as he inhales a shuddering breath. If you had known just how expressive he was you never would have let him wear the helmet in the first place. He chews on his bottom lip briefly as he stares at you. Swallowing loudly.

“It’s mine?” The single sentence is shaky and breathless as you nod. 

“All yours.” You whisper back. 

His arms cage you in as he pulls your body flush with his, nearly lifting you off the ground.

“How is that- we were so careful…” He turns his head, pressing a series of kisses into your hair. You give him a skeptical look as you laugh.

“Were we?” 

“I guess not.” He shrugs, grinning from ear to ear as he looks at you. 

“It’s really mine?” He leans down to kiss you before you can even answer, making you laugh against his lips. 

“It’s really yours, and I already picked out a name.” Your heart flutters as his eyes light up, you just want to stare at him all day, partially because a part of you is worried he’ll disappear from your life all over again.

“Without me?” He sounds genuinely hurt, you lean up to kiss him again, hoping to soothe him.

“I think you’ll like it.” You mumble against his mouth after a moment. 

“How do you know it’s going to suit them, it’s too early.” He chuckles. 

“I just know.” You really do. A part of you had always had a vision of them, a little carbon copy of Din. A baby boy with his dark eyes and hair, you can feel it. “Can we go to the cabin? I don’t think I can stomach another night in here. The next few days I’m gonna have to deal with everything I did tonight, and I just want to spend tonight with you.” He nods, pulling you into one more embrace, unable to keep his hands off of you as he smiles. As much as you adore finally being able to look at him you suddenly worry that he might not be comfortable. “I have your helmet, if you want it.” You turn to fetch it but he keeps you pinned to him. 

“Don’t bother.”

“Are you sure? What about the creed?” The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile softens. 

“You’re my creed. Everything I have, everything I am, it’s all for you. For both of you.” 

“You know you don’t have to be so poetic with me, I’m already yours, you’ve already wooed me.” You tease. 

“Then let’s go home.” He whispers. You smile as you leave your room, sneaking out the back entrance until the two of you are walking hand in hand across the courtyard and into the trees.

a/n : did a classic bks all nighter for this and im so tired, the edit was done through weary eyes lmao, feel free to lmk if there's any glaring issues

i no longer have a tag list!! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

[theunholybastard]

Hey!! I have a new request. A fic where the ghouls dissappear to the den for a few days to deal with their cycles. Inhuman ghouls again. Copia has no idea where they all went and is worried about practice. Esencially, he walks in on them fucking each other...... 75% porn 25% plot. Thank you!!

Hey, Lovely! 👋 My apologies for the little wait, I've been busy cooking up some absolutely devious stuff for Kinktober 😈🙏 I hope this was worth the wait!

In Sync (Era 5 Ghouls x Papa Emeritus IV Smut)

Tags: Heat/Rut, Orgy, Overstimulation, Double Penetration, Face-Sitting, Biting/Scratching, Blood Kink, Voyeurism, Copia's a Pervert, Squirting, Cum-Eating, Knotting, Mention of Breeding

He didn't know how something like this could happen. I mean, obviously he knew it was possible, but seriously, what are the chances?

Whenever the Ghouls went through their heat cycles, it was usually just one or two experiencing it at a time. They would just be able to retreat to their den for the duration, and come out to rejoin society once it's over with. It's never caused any problems, even during tours Copia was able to find a different Ghoul to dawn a mask and act as a replacement for a few shows. But all of the Ghouls going into heat at the same time? He never could've predicted something like this.

The show was tonight. The Ghouls were expected at practice, and they were not there. Where the hell were they? Heat or not, Copia needed them. It's not like he could find fucking eight replacement Ghouls in such short notice. They can suck it up and control themselves for one night. The show must go on, right?

Copia knocks on the door to the Ghoul den. No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Still, no answer. They gotta be in here, right? He opens the door. That was a big mistake.

I suppose when you have a bunch of horny Ghouls in one room, it's bound to happen. It's not like they can control themselves in this state. All of Copias prized Ghouls; naked, bodies squished together to the point where you couldn't tell which body parts were which. The Ghouls are too caught up in their sexual deviancy to notice Copia, who stood in the doorway, frozen.

Swiss and Mountain were sharing Aurora, Mountain stuffed in her cunt while Swiss takes her ass. Sodo had Rain bent over, buried balls-deep inside of him, fucking into him rapidly. Meanwhile Phantom, Cirrus and Cumulus were together, Cirrus bouncing on Phantoms cock and Cumulus sat on his face. A cacophony of moans echoed throughout the room, along with the obscene sound of wet skin slapping.

Copia didn't know what to do. Should he say something, make his presence known? As if that would stop them. He almost wants to just stand there and watch, see how long it would take for one of them to notice, and how they would react once they did. Would they shoo him out? Would they keep going without a care? Would they invite him to join? Copia is ashamed to admit, a jolt of arousal shot through him at the thought.

Aurora was the loudest of them all, how could she not be when such a little thing like her was taking such big cocks? Her mouth hung open, drooling from how good they were fucking her, reaching deep within her to hit the spot each time. Mountain, who was typically gentle during his sexual endeavors, harshly yanks Aurora by her hair, pulling her in for a kiss. Sloppy, saliva dripping from the corners of both of their mouths, fangs and horns clashing violently together.

Sodo ferally bucks into Rain, snarling and clawing at the poor Ghoul underneath him. He bites the nape of Rains neck, piercing the skin and lapping up the blood leaking from the wound like a starved vampire. Rains hand is tucked underneath his waist, furiously jerking himself off. A puddle of cum is already formed on the floor below him, working towards what looks to be his third or fourth orgasm, sobbing and shaking unbridledly from the painful, stinging pleasure.

Phantoms whimpers are muffled from the curvaceous Ghoulette grinding on his face, incapable of doing anything other than desperately sucking and licking at her folds, like he needed her cum down his throat to live. Cirrus rode him feverishly, mewling as a particular slam of her hips causes the head of his dick to hit her g-spot directly. Cumulus has a tight hold on his wrists, spitting words of filth down at him as he suffocates on her cunt, rendering him completely and utterly at the mercy of the two.

Copia can't help but rub himself through his pants as he takes in the sight of it all. He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn't watch this, let alone pleasure himself to this, and he definitely knows this is just going to delay practice even further. I mean, it's not like he could stop them even if he tried, he might as well let them fuck it out, right? They should get it out of their systems now so they can be able to perform later; and surely it's for the best that he get it out of his system with them.

It isn't long before Copia grows more confident with his movements, gingerly extracting his cock from his pants and stroking it freely. He bites his lip to hold back his moans, trying to remain undetected, though a small part of him is itching to get caught. He watches as they pump load after load into each other, seed pouring from their holes.

Aurora screamed hoarsely as Swiss and Mountain came nearly in sync, flooding her womb and ass and stretching her with their knots. It's a wonder she didn't faint, Copia thought to himself. Soon after, its Sodo letting out a demonic roar as he finishes inside Rain, Rains cock weeping along with him. Lastly, Phantom reaches his orgasm with a full-body shudder. Cirrus takes it all with a smile, both her and Phantoms juices mixing together and dripping down his balls. The vibration of Phantoms groans against her clit sends Cumulus over the edge, her orgasm filling his mouth, drinking it all down hungrily.

The sight, the sound, the smell; it's all too much for Copia. All of them, skin glistening from being covered in sweat, spit, blood and cum. Successfully bred and knotted. Fuck. His orgasm hit him like a bus, sudden and unanticipated, spilling his seed with an embarrassingly loud gasp. Finally, the Ghouls take notice, all turning their heads towards the noise. Copias face grows red, eyes wide, petrified.

Just when he expected to be yelled at for disturbing their intimate moment, a deep chuckle comes from Swiss. A couple other Ghouls join in, not laughing at Copia, but rather the absurdity of the situation. It's Cumulus who speaks first, curling her finger towards him in a 'come hither' motion. "Wanna join, Papa?"

They didn't attend practice that day.

-

[cannibalistickitty]

SPIDER!NATALIE

summery: your best friend is spiderwoman, but what happens when you fall in love with the crime fighting girl?

warnings: mentions of blood, tooth rotting fluff!!!!!

notes: nat needs a hug

you sat at your desk finishing up your homework for the week as you listened to music, from the corner of your eye you saw someone crouching by your window . the sight startled you, you heard and saw the shadow knock, you looked closer and saw someone in a spider woman's suit . you chuckled and got up from your seat, opening up the window . she climbed into your room, she was drenched in rain and dripping on your carpet 

 

'nat what the fuck! you scared me!' she chuckled and slid off her mask, 'sorry dude', she sat on your bed side table, 'don't call me dude I'm your best friend asshole' you crossed your arms . she gave you a fake pout, 'sorry my beautiful wonderful bestest friend' her sarcasm made you grin, you moved closer to her and saw a patch of blood on her suit

 

'holy fuck nat!' you rushed to her back and zipped her suit down, she hissed at the contact of the wound and air . she had a gash on her shoulder blade and a bruise on her spine, you grabbed a first aid kit from your bathroom and cleaned her wound up . she bit her lip as you wiped the blood from around the gash 

 

you placed a patch on top of the wound and helped her get her suit off, 'i have some clothes for you' she turned around and saw you had a pair of sweatpants and a simple black tee, she slid the pants on and sat in your bed, you helped her get her shirt on, trying to not worsen the would on her back . 'you good?' you whispered, she looked up at you with teary eyes and nodded, 'yeah' she whispered back

 

'why are you crying' you gently cupped her cheek, 'nothing, just, I've never had anyone take care of me like this' you stroked her face with your thumb, wiping her tears . 'i love you nat' you said as you laid her down, 'i love you too angel' you smiled and laid right next to her

[a-court-of-mischief-and-madness]

Midnight revelations

Part 5

Pairings: Eris Vanserra x Rhysand's sister reader!

Summary: After eris is severly punished by Beron what happens when he goes to his mate for help and they share an intimate moment? and to no surprise her overprotective brother Rhysand finds out?

A/n: hey guys, sorry to keep you waiting but I promise it's worth it. This chapter will leave you screaming and love struck just as it did to me. So I urge you all to enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of blood! , kissing! and alot of angst

Eris strode through the dark corridors of his father's palace, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He had been reckless, letting his emotions slip through his carefully constructed mask. Now, he had to face the consequences. As he approached Beron's chambers, he straightened his spine, steeling himself for the inevitable confrontation.

The door creaked open, revealing Beron seated on his ornate throne. His eyes gleamed with a predatory glint as Eris stepped inside.

"Eris," Beron drawled, his voice dripping with malice. "I hope you have some good news for me."

Eris met his father's gaze, keeping his expression neutral. "I have been making progress."

Beron's eyes narrowed. "Is that so? Let's see if you're telling the truth."

Before Eris could react, Beron's power surged through him, invading his mind with brutal force. Memories flashed before his eyes: the dance, the touch, the revelation about her wings. Beron's fury erupted like a storm, and he yanked Eris's head back, slamming him against the wall.

"You dare defy me?" Beron hissed, his grip tightening. "You think you can hide things from me?"

Eris struggled against the pain, his vision blurring. "I didn't—"

Beron's fist connected with his face, cutting him off. The beating continued, each blow landing with savage precision. Blood dripped from Eris's mouth and nose, his body screaming in agony. Finally, Beron released him, letting him crumple to the floor.

"Pathetic," Beron sneered. "Remember, Eris, you are nothing without my favor. Fail me again, and the consequences will be far worse."

Eris barely managed a nod, his strength waning. Beron turned away, dismissing him as if he were nothing more than a broken toy.

With a supreme effort, Eris willed himself to winnow. He aimed for Lucien's room, but his injuries muddled his focus. The world twisted and spun, and he found himself stumbling into a familiar chamber in the Night Court.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

You gasp as Eris appears before you, battered and bleeding. He collapses to the floor, his breathing ragged. Without hesitation, you rush to his side, your hands trembling as you gently lift his head.

"Eris," you whisper, your heart breaking at the sight of his injuries. "What happened?"

He winces, trying to sit up. "My father." You don't need him to continue to know what he means.

Anger flares within you, but you force yourself to stay calm. You need to take care of him first. Carefully, you help him to your bed, grabbing a cloth and a bowl of water. As you clean his wounds, your touch is tender, yet your emotions roil within you.

"Take off your shirt," you instruct softly, your voice wavering with concern.

Eris's eyes flicker with a mix of amusement and pain. "Excited to see me naked, princess?" he teases, his voice a husky rasp despite his condition.

You scoff, trying to hide the flutter in your chest. "Just take it off."

He smirks, wincing slightly as he lifts his shirt over his head. As the fabric falls away, your breath hitches. His torso is a canvas of scars, each one telling a story of pain and survival. The hard lines of his muscles are a stark contrast to the vulnerable expression on his face. Your fingers tremble as you begin to clean the blood from his torso, his skin warm under your touch.

"See something you like?" he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with a hint of vulnerability.

You roll your eyes, focusing on the task at hand. "Shut up, Eris."

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a thrill through you. "I know you do, princess. I see the way you look at me."

Ignoring his taunts, you continue to tend to his wounds. Your fingers brush against his skin, and each touch feels like a spark igniting between you. The room feels smaller, the air thicker with the weight of your unspoken desires.

Eris winces as you dab at a particularly deep cut. "Careful," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," you reply, your fingers lingering on his skin for a moment longer than necessary. The tension between you crackles, an unspoken connection that neither of you can ignore.

His eyes lock onto yours, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. "Thank you," he says softly, his voice sincere.

"Don't thank me yet," you mutter, trying to regain your composure. "We're not done."

You continue to clean his wounds, your touch gentle but precise. Each time your fingers brush against his skin, a spark seems to ignite between you. The room feels smaller, the air thicker with the weight of your unspoken desires.

Eris's breath hitches as you apply pressure to a particularly stubborn cut. "You have a delicate touch," he remarks, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"Shut up," you reply, your cheeks flushing. "I'm trying to help."

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a thrill through you. "I know, and I appreciate it."

You finish cleaning his wounds, your hands lingering on his shoulders. The proximity is intoxicating, the scent of him filling your senses. For a moment, you both stay still, the world outside forgotten.

"Eris," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

His gaze softens, a vulnerability you rarely see in him. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "For everything."

You shake your head, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. "Don't apologize. We'll figure this out together."

His eyes hold a depth of emotion you hadn't expected, and he leans into your touch. The connection between you is undeniable, a force that neither of you can resist.

Eris winces again as you dab a particularly sensitive spot, your hands moving with care. His sharp intake of breath makes you pause, your eyes meeting his.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but before you can pull your hand away, he catches your wrist.

His fingers, still strong despite his injuries, are warm against your skin. "Don't be," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. His eyes darken, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, the tension almost unbearable. You are so close, your faces inches apart.

Eris's hand moves from your wrist to your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips capturing yours with a fervent, almost desperate passion. The kiss is everything you had imagined and more. It is demanding, yet tender; fierce, yet gentle. His lips move against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away.

You melt into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, then to his neck, pulling him closer. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desire and something uniquely Eris. His hand tangles in your hair, the other resting on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The heat between you ignites, his kiss deepening as his tongue seeks entry, and you grant it eagerly. A moan escapes your lips, swallowed by his insistent mouth. You can feel his need, his desire, in every touch, every caress.

Eris's hand slips down to the small of your back, his fingers trailing fire along your skin as he pulls you even closer. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you and the searing heat of your kiss.

You break apart, gasping for breath, but Eris doesn't let you go far. He presses his forehead against yours, his breath hot and ragged. "I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, unable to find your voice, your body still trembling from the intensity of the kiss. Eris's lips find yours again, softer this time, but no less passionate. His kiss is a promise, a declaration, and you know there is no turning back.

Eris abruptly pulls away, his breathing heavy and ragged. His eyes, dark with desire moments ago, now hold a conflicted look. "No," he whispers, shaking his head. "We shouldn't be doing this."

Your heart sinks at his words. "Why?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though you already know the answer.

"If my father finds out..." Eris trails off, his expression pained. "It won't be good. For either of us."

You see the torment in his eyes, the war he is fighting within himself. You want to tell him that everything will be okay, that you can face whatever comes together, but the fear in his gaze stops you.

Instead, you reach out, your hand gently cupping his cheek. "Eris," you say softly, your voice filled with compassion. "We'll find a way. We have to."

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch for a moment before pulling away. "You don't understand what he's capable of," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "I can't risk you getting hurt."

You stand there, heart aching, not knowing what to say. The desire, the longing between you is palpable, but the fear is just as strong. Eris takes a step back, distancing himself.

"Come here," you whisper, holding out your hand.

He hesitates, but then he takes your hand and allows you to pull him into an embrace. You hold him tightly, feeling the tension in his body slowly ebb away. "It's going to be okay," you murmur, your fingers gently stroking his hair.

Eris buries his face in your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you. For a long moment, you just stand there, holding each other, drawing comfort from the closeness. You feel his breath warm against your neck, the steady thump of his heart against your chest.

Eventually, you guide him to sit on the edge of the bed. He looks so vulnerable, so different from the confident and often cold facade he shows to the world. You sit beside him, your hand still clasped in his.

"We'll figure it out," you say softly. "Together."

Eris sighs, the tension leaving his body as he leans back on the bed. You lie down beside him, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. His warmth is comforting, and you nestle against him, your head resting on his chest.

For the rest of the night, you lie together, holding each other. The worries of the world outside seem to fade away, at least for a little while. You feel his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, a constant reminder that he is there, that you are not alone.

As the night wears on, you talk quietly about everything and nothing, your voices barely above whispers. Eris shares stories of his childhood, moments that have shaped him into the man he is. You tell him about your fears, your hopes, the dreams you barely dare to speak of.

Eventually, the conversation dwindles, and silence settles over you. You feel safe in his arms, and as you drift off to sleep, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you will face them together.

----------------------------♧-----------------------------

As she slept soundly against his chest, Eris couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and peace that he hadn't felt in years. He looked down at her, her dark hair cascading over his arm like a silken waterfall, her violet eyes hidden beneath her lashes but vivid in his memory. She was perfect, more beautiful than he could ever have imagined.

His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face, marveling at the way the moonlight caressed her features. The soft curve of her lips, the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the way her lashes fanned out over her cheeks – she was a vision of serenity and grace. Each detail, each delicate line and shadow, seemed to capture the very essence of beauty. The moonlight painted her skin with a silvery glow, making her look almost ethereal, like a goddess descended from the heavens to bless him with her presence.

He had never felt so connected to someone, never felt so deeply that someone was meant to be by his side. Yet, with that connection came an overwhelming fear. What would his father do if he found out? What kind of horrors would Beron unleash upon her, upon them, to break them apart? The thought of Beron's wrath, his cruelty, sent a shiver down Eris's spine. He knew all too well the depths of his father's malice, the lengths he would go to maintain control and power. The thought of her being hurt because of him was unbearable.

He closed his eyes, the weight of his responsibility pressing down on him. But as he held her, feeling the warmth of her body against his, he made a silent promise to himself and to her. He would fight for her. No matter what it took, no matter the cost, he would protect her. She was his mate, his love, and he would not let his father's cruelty tear them apart. He would find a way to shield her from the storm, to keep her safe and secure in his arms.

The memories of their time together flooded his mind – the stolen glances, the whispered conversations, the moments of shared vulnerability. Each memory was a thread that wove them closer together, creating a tapestry of love and trust that he cherished deeply. He remembered the first time he saw her, the way his heart had skipped a beat, the instant recognition that she was different, that she was special. And now, as he held her in his arms, he knew that she was the one he had been waiting for all his life.

Eris tightened his hold on her slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. The soft scent of her hair filled his senses, calming the turmoil within him. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but in that moment, as he watched her sleep, he found a sliver of hope. They had each other, and together, they could face whatever came their way. He imagined a future where they were free from his father's shadow, where they could live their lives without fear, where they could build a home filled with love and laughter.

With a determined heart, he allowed himself to drift into a light sleep, holding onto the promise that he would fight for their love, for their future, for her. His dreams were filled with visions of a life they could have – a life where they could walk hand in hand without looking over their shoulders, where their love could flourish without the threat of darkness looming over them. He dreamed of her laughter, her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she was happy. And as he held her close, he knew that he would do everything in his power to make those dreams a reality.

Eris's resolve solidified as he lay there, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing. He would confront his father, face whatever challenges came their way, and protect her with every fiber of his being. She was his light, his hope, and he would not let the darkness of his past extinguish the bright future they could have together.

------------------------♧---------------------------------

In the morning, you woke up to an empty room. Eris had already left, leaving behind only the faint scent of him and the lingering warmth where he had lain. You sighed, sitting up and running a hand through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts. The memory of his touch, his kiss, lingered in your mind, a bittersweet reminder of the night before. Just as you were about to get up, a knock sounded at your door. You opened it to find Rhysand and the entire Inner Circle standing there, concern and anger etched on their faces.

Rhysand’s eyes were dark with fury. "Why am I getting Eris’s scent all over this room?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, confirming Rhysand’s suspicions. "Eris was here," Azriel said, his tone flat but his eyes watchful.

You swallowed hard, knowing you couldn’t keep the truth from them any longer. "He was hurt," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "He winnowed here after his father beat him. I helped him... cleaned his wounds."

Rhysand’s fury didn’t abate. "And what else happened?" he pressed, his eyes boring into yours.

You hesitated, not wanting to reveal the kiss, the undeniable connection you had shared. "Nothing else," you lied, hoping he wouldn’t see through you.

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. "Do you have feelings for him?" he asked, his voice softer but no less intense.

You looked away, unsure of how to answer. "I don’t know," you admitted finally. "Everything is so confusing right now."

Rhysand’s expression hardened. "I can’t risk you getting hurt," he said, his voice firm. With a wave of his hand, magic swirled around you, locking you in your room. "This is for your own protection."

You gasped, rushing to the door, but it was sealed shut by his magic. "Rhys, please," you pleaded, pounding on the door. "You can’t do this!"

But Rhysand’s decision was final. "You’ll stay here until I figure out how to keep you safe from him and from yourself," he said, his voice echoing with finality.

As the Inner Circle left, you sank to the floor, feeling a mix of anger, confusion, and a deep ache in your heart. You understood Rhysand’s need to protect you, but it felt like a prison. You couldn’t deny the connection you felt with Eris, nor could you ignore the danger that came with it.

You needed to find a way out, to confront your feelings and to deal with Eris on your own terms. But for now, you were trapped, left alone with your thoughts and the ever-present memory of Eris’s touch, his kiss, and the undeniable bond that tied you together.

As the door sealed with Rhysand's magic, you collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down your face. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on your chest, and you sobbed uncontrollably, feeling both trapped and heartbroken. The bond between you and Eris thrummed with your pain, sending waves of your distress to him.

---------------------------♧------------------------------

Eris was pacing in his room in the Autumn Court, the lingering sensation of her presence still clinging to him. He felt her pain suddenly, sharp and overwhelming, cutting through his own thoughts. His chest tightened, and he stopped in his tracks, his hands clenching into fists.

"What is happening to her?" he muttered to himself, fury and concern warring within him. The bond was a constant reminder of her emotions, and right now, it screamed with anguish.

He tried to winnow to the Night Court, desperate to reach her and find out what was wrong. But as he attempted to break through the wards surrounding her room, he felt an intense pain, like knives stabbing into his skin. He recoiled, gasping for breath.

"Rhysand," he snarled, realizing the High Lord must have warded her room against him. "Damn him."

Eris tried again, gritting his teeth against the pain, but it was no use. The wards were too strong, a testament to Rhysand's determination to keep him away. He slammed his fist against the wall in frustration, leaving a dent in the wood.

----------------------------♧----------------------------

Sobs wrack your body, shaking you to your core as you hug your knees to your chest. Each sob feels like it tears through you, leaving you feeling utterly alone in the dim light of your room. The walls seem to close in on you, suffocating in their silence. You can sense Eris's anger and confusion through the bond, a tangible thread of emotion that ties you to him, even in your isolation. His fury and bewilderment only make you cry harder, your tears soaking your cheeks and dampening the fabric of your clothing.

You clutch your knees tighter, trying to draw some comfort from the small, enclosed space you create for yourself. The thought of dragging Eris into more danger gnaws at your conscience, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. You don't want him to suffer because of you, to be pulled into the chaos that surrounds your life. But the idea of being kept away from him, of the bond being forcibly severed, is a pain that cuts even deeper.

Your sobs become quieter but no less intense, a continuous flow of sorrow that you can't seem to stop. The bond between you and Eris thrums with his emotions, a relentless reminder that you are not truly alone, even though it feels that way. You can feel his desperation, his need to be with you, to protect you. It mirrors your own, making the ache in your heart almost unbearable.

The room feels colder, darker, as your tears continue to fall. You bury your face in your knees, muffling your cries, wishing for some semblance of relief. The bond flickers with a surge of Eris's emotion, a mix of anger and helplessness that mirrors your own turmoil. You wish you could reach out to him, to assure him that you are okay, even though you are far from it.

As the minutes stretch into an eternity, your sobs begin to subside, leaving you with a hollow emptiness. You take a shuddering breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions within you. The bond between you and Eris remains, a faint but unwavering connection that offers a sliver of solace.

You wipe at your tear-streaked face, the physical act of moving helping to ground you. Despite the fear and uncertainty, you know that you can't give up. You can't let the bond be broken or allow yourself to be torn away from Eris. You draw strength from the knowledge that he feels the same, that he is fighting just as hard to be with you.

Slowly, you uncurl from your tight ball, feeling the stiffness in your limbs from holding yourself so tightly. You take another deep breath, willing yourself to find a way through the pain and confusion. The bond pulses gently, a reminder that you are not alone in this battle.

----------------------------♧-----------------------------

Eris knew he couldn't give up. He needed to find a way to help her, to comfort her. But the wards were impenetrable. He closed his eyes, focusing on the bond, trying to send her some semblance of comfort, even if he couldn't be there physically.

"Hold on," he whispered, hoping she could feel his words through the bond. "I'll find a way."

The pain of her emotions was almost too much to bear, but it fueled his determination. He wouldn't let Rhysand keep them apart. He would find a way to reach her, no matter what it took.

---------------------------♧-------------------------------

As the minutes pass in your room, the intense emotions within you begin to shift. The raw anguish that once wracked your body gradually gives way to a simmering anger. That anger then hardens into a determination you haven't felt before. You can feel a surge of energy building inside you, growing stronger with each heartbeat.

Your wings, shimmering with a golden light, unfurl with a sudden, powerful motion. The glow envelops you, filling the room with a radiant light that banishes the shadows lurking in the corners. It's as if the very essence of your power is awakening, responding to your resolve.

You stand up, your wings spreading wide, the power within you pulsating stronger than ever. The air around you crackles with energy, the force of your emotions manifesting in a tangible way. With a fierce, defiant cry, you channel that power into the wards that confine you. The magic shatters around you, fragments of the barrier dissolving into nothingness.

Without hesitation, you launch yourself into the air, your wings propelling you forward with an unstoppable force. The world below blurs as you fly towards the Autumn Court, your mind set on seeing your mate and ending this torment once and for all. The wind rushes past you, but you are focused, each beat of your wings driving you closer to your goal.

Your determination burns bright within you, guiding you through the night. The bond with Eris hums with a sense of purpose, the connection between you strengthening with each passing moment. You can feel his emotions mingling with yours, a shared resolve that fuels your flight.

---------------------------♧-------------------------------

As you land near the Autumn Court, you are immediately surrounded by guards. Their weapons are drawn, pointed directly at you, trapping you in an inescapable circle. The air is thick with tension as Beron approaches, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

"Well, well, look who decided to pay us a visit," he sneers, roughly grabbing your chin. "I thought I would have to plan a scheme to get those wings, but they, alas, have come to me." His laughter is dark and malicious, echoing in the silent night. "Foolish girl."

His grip tightens painfully, and he leans in closer, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Your mother was a whore," he spits, his voice dripping with venom. "She deserved to die, and you will too if you continue this folly."

You struggle against his hold, but his strength is overwhelming. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as fear begins to creep in despite your defiance. Beron’s eyes are cold and pitiless, and his grip on your chin is unyielding.

"Clip her wings," Beron instructs one of the guards, his voice filled with sadistic pleasure. "It's time for me to get all the power I need and end this once and for all."

Your heart races, pounding in your throat, and fear churns in your stomach. The guards step forward, their blades glinting ominously in the dim light. Just then, Eris appears, his expression dark and furious.

"Father, release her," he commands, his voice cold and authoritative.

Beron flashes Eris a cold look, and for a moment, it seems they are communicating silently, making some kind of deal. A cruel smile tugs at Beron's lips as he shoves you towards Eris.

"Handle her, then. She's your problem," Beron says dismissively.

Eris catches you, steadying you with a firm grip. His touch is surprisingly gentle, but his eyes burn with hatred as he turns to face his father. "Leave her to me. I will deal with her."

Beron gives a dismissive wave, turning away with a sneer. "See that you do."

Eris’s hands linger on your arms, his touch both a comfort and a reminder of the danger you’re in. He pulls you close, his voice a low whisper. "Trust me," he murmurs, his eyes flickering with an unspoken promise.

-----------------------------♧----------------------------

Eris guided her away from the guards, his touch both reassuring and protective. Each step they took was calculated, avoiding the areas where his father’s soldiers might be lurking. The tension in the air was palpable, and Eris's senses were on high alert, every noise making him twitch with anticipation. Once they were out of earshot, he turned to her, his eyes filled with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, though she was trembling, her fear evident. "I managed to escape, but they caught me."

Eris's jaw tightened, anger and frustration coursing through him. "You're not safe here. My father... he's dangerous. You shouldn't have come."

"I had to," she replied, her voice steady despite the terror he could see in her eyes. "I couldn't stay locked up, feeling helpless."

Eris's gaze softened, a mix of admiration and frustration in his eyes. Her determination, her fire—it was what drew him to her, but it also terrified him. "You are the most stubborn person I have ever met," he said, shaking his head.

She smiled faintly, a glimmer of defiance in her expression. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's infuriating and admirable at the same time," he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the gravity of their situation.

As they stood there, close and vulnerable, the tension between them became palpable. Eris reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin. The contact sent a shiver through him, a reminder of the fragile connection they shared. "We need to get you out of here," he said, his voice low and urgent.

She looked into his eyes, feeling the bond between them thrumming with intensity. "What about you?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I'll handle my father," he said firmly, trying to infuse his words with a confidence he didn’t entirely feel. "But you need to be safe. That's all that matters to me."

She nodded, but the fear for his safety gnawed at her. "Be careful, Eris. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I will be," he promised, his voice low and sincere. "Now, let's get you out of here before my father changes his mind."

They moved quickly through the labyrinthine halls of the Autumn Court, Eris keeping a protective arm around her. Each step they took was fraught with danger, and Eris couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He led her through secret passages and hidden corridors, using every bit of his knowledge of the palace to avoid detection.

As they slipped through a hidden exit, the cold night air hit them, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat of the Autumn Court. Eris felt a strange mix of relief and fear, knowing that while she might be safe for now, the danger was far from over. But with her by his side, he felt a glimmer of hope that they could face whatever came next together.

The journey to the Night Court was swift and silent, the landscape blurring past them as they moved. Eris kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger. When they finally arrived at the Night Court, he gave her a reassuring nod before disappearing into the shadows. He watched her enter the townhouse, his heart pounding in his chest.

The entire Inner Circle was waiting for her in the living room, their faces etched with worry and relief. Eris remained hidden, his eyes fixed on her as she faced her friends. He knew the conversation that awaited her would be difficult, but he also knew she was strong enough to handle it.

As she stepped inside, taking a deep breath, Eris slipped further into the shadows, ready to return to his own world, his mind already planning the next steps. He had promised her safety, and he would ensure it, no matter the cost. His father was a formidable enemy, but for her, Eris would face any danger. As he disappeared into the night, his thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—relief, fear, and a burgeoning hope that together, they could face whatever came next.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

Rhysand is the first to step forward, his eyes filled with guilt and regret. "I'm so sorry," he begins, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to imprison you like that. I was just so afraid of losing you, of something happening to you like it did to Mor." You see the pain in his eyes, the fear of history repeating itself, and it cuts deep.

"Rhys, I know you were trying to protect me," you say softly, stepping closer to him, your heart aching for him. "But you have to trust me too. I can handle myself." You hope your words convey the strength you feel, the independence you crave.

Rhysand pulls you into a tight embrace, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. You feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest, each beat a testament to his fear and love. "I promise, I'll support you from now on, no matter what. I just can't bear the thought of losing you."

You hug him back, your arms wrapping around him with all the reassurance you can muster. "I know, Rhys. I love you too," you whisper, your voice steady even as your emotions swirl inside you.

Azriel steps forward next, his shadows swirling around him protectively. "We all care about you. We just want to keep you safe," he says, his usually stoic demeanor softened by concern.

Mor nods, her expression gentle and understanding. "You have our support, no matter what," she adds, her eyes warm with affection and solidarity.

Nesta, who has been standing silently in the corner, finally speaks up. "We're family. We stick together, through everything," she says, her voice firm and resolute. Her words echo in the room, a powerful reminder of the bond you all share.

Rhysand releases you from the hug, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "We'll figure this out together, it will definitely take time for me to accept you and Eris but I promise I will try and no more forcing you to do anything you don't want to, sister" he says, his voice filled with determination and hope.

"That's all I ever needed to hear", you smiled and hugged him again

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @sunny1616 @st4r-girl-official @krowiathemythologynerd

[dukewrio]

and always (ayato x sick!reader)

request?: yep!

warnings: panic attack, fear of hospitals (specific reason not mentioned), blood mention, some mild spoilers for the musketeer event quest

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y/n’s legs give out from underneath them as they step out onto the porch adjacent to their room. they fall into the trap of exhaustion, laying fully on the wood planks, gasping in the fresh air. just as the feeling of relief fills y/n’s sickly body, it is immediately replaced by chills. y/n knows their fever has gone up exponentially in the past few days, but still is determined to fight it off traditionally.

normally when they would get sick, ayato would take care of them, he always had the perfect remedy for any ailment. however, ayato was in fontaine when y/n’s symptoms began and since he returned two days ago, he added more tasks to his plate than normal in an attempt to begin foreign cultural exchanges with the other nations in teyvat. seeing this caused y/n to keep their illness from her fiancé, not wanting to add to the tasks he had. it was easy, provided he had spent most of his time locked in his office.

y/n musters the strength to sit up and slouch themselves against the wall. soon regretting the movement as it triggers a coughing fit. their hand flies up to cover their mouth as the coughing worsens. y/n can’t even be surprised when a hand rest on their shoulder, all of their energy being drained. when the coughing finally subsides, y/n pulls their hand from their mouth to be greeted with the alarming sight of blood dripping down their palm. instinctively they look up at their new company in shock, and meet ayato’s eyes. they swear they saw a flash of fear in ayato’s blues right before the calculating mask glazes them over once again.

“y/n, how long has this been happening?” ayato asks softly.

“about 5 day-“

“5 days?!“ ayato exclaims. “why didn’t you tell me? i have been home for the past two?”

“you just got back and i-“

“i am taking you to the hospital.”

“no!” y/n yells. their eyes widening as they pull away from ayato’s grasp. tears appear cascading down their face. y/n moves their hands to cover their ears, too overwhelmed to notice the slick feel of the blood on their hand resting on their ear. “i can’t, you can’t, please,” they beg.

“y/n, how can i help?” ayato asks, keeping a distance as to not overwhelm them. “i think your illness is out of the scope that i can take care of myself.”

y/n’s head shakes and they begin to hyperventilate.

“no, no hospital please,” y/n sobs. breaths becoming more frequent as they continue to curl themselves away from their fiancé. ayato’s heart breaks at the sight. he knows they aren’t scared of him, only scared that he will take them somewhere they don’t want to go. however, the idea of bringing stress to his loved one instead of protecting them opens an old wound.

at a stalemate of what to do, y/n’s breathing only gets more frantic. the demons swimming in their head only add to the stress of the situation. y/n’s throat feels like it’s on fire, their illness only making it far worse. slowly y/n’s body starts to give in to exhaustion, the blurry world around them goes dark.

“y/n!”

-a couple hours later-

“so they are going to be okay?” ayato’s voice breaks through the dark quietly, still slightly muffled, but nearby.

“yes, i only wish you would have called for me sooner, their condition was rather serious,” a second unfamiliar voice speaks. y/n slowly opens their eyes only to be met with the inside of their and ayato’s shared room. a cool wet rag rests on their forehead. seconds later ayato walks back into the room, immediately making eye contact with y/n.

“you’re awake,” he smiles, a sad one. “i called for the doctor, he said you have a strong respiratory infection,” he stands to the side of the bed, at a distance, still unsure of your comfort with him.

“ayato, i’m sorry, i just-“

“you don’t need to apologize, and we can talk more in depth on this once you are better,” he pulls out a container. “the doctor gave me this prescription for you and some care instructions, you should be better in about a week.”

y/n reaches their hand out towards ayato. he takes it as a sign to come closer, he sits on the edge of their bed holding onto y/n’s hand.

“i’m here for you now, and always.”

-

a/n: hope this is what you had in mind. i kinda broke my heart with ayato for this. like i just started really liking him, and reading his lore.

masterlist

[ghostly-sunflower]

[happy 1month blogiversary for Gwen!!!!!!! heres a weird skit prompt thingy i wrote on my notes app] [this wasn't planned as an open starter, but if anyone wants to expand upon this with their creative juices, go right ahead <3]

Gwen's back hit the wall with a sickening crunch, her breath leaving her in strangled gasps.

Doc Ock, the anomaly she was fighting, smiled at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

He was the standard evil, sure, but there was something different about him. Something more cold and calculating compared to the other Doc Ock's she had fought.

He seemed arrogant. Like he knew something Gwen didn't.

So Gwen pushed herself off the ground--her arms shaking as she prepared for another round--and launched herself at her enemy, her fist raised high.

Before her spidey-sense could warn her, Doc Ock's arms had sprung out from behind him, one grabbing Gwen's arms and tying them to her torso, and the other grabbing her chin, forcing her to look him straight in the face.

He brought her close, the smile on his face no longer there. It was somber. Was he faking it?

What was he going to do with her?

Instead of violence, he examined her, scrutinizing everything that was visible on her body.

Gwen's nose wrinkled, sniffling in the blood that she hadn't realized had started dripping, "Ha... what? Judging my fashion sense?"

Her fingers started to work under his weird octopus arm, trying to pry her hands out of his tight grip so she would be able to press her web-shooters.

"Didn't realize you Doc Ock's even knew what fashion was-"

He cuts her off before she can finish, the words turning her blood cold.

"Do you blame yourself?"

Gwen's mouth slacked, "...what?"

The confusion seemed to encourage him, and he raised his head high, moving his face away from hers.

"Well, it's common for a person to feel a sort of... guilt."

Gwen swallowed thickly, shaking her head and now struggling with her whole body to get out of his grip, "Come on man," her heart pounded wildly in her chest, her breathing becoming frantic, "c-come on. This isn't funny."

She looked down at her torso, the arm only serving to tighten around her further. Doc Ock's smile returns, knowing he's got her.

"What are you talking about...?" Gwen dares to ask, her entire body pounding from the hot fire running through her blood. She could barely think straight, everything now seeming like a whir.

"The Accident."

His words douse her like acid, running down her back in blazing fire trails.

The...Accident.

Gwen's breath forced itself out of her, her mind running a projection in her head as her body goes slack.

Peter.

Her Peter.

She remembers fighting the Green Goblin--fighting him-- watching him die.

It was all her fault.

If she was a better person, a better friend. If she had let him in, this could have all been avoided.

But she didn't.

A shiver ran through her body.

She still remembers the scream that tore through her that night.

Raw and raspy and so full of rage towards everyone, but especially herself. That night left a bleeding, gaping wound in her chest.

And she never let it close...likes to pick at it to keep it bleeding to remind herself why she doesn't do friends anymore.

Until Miles had come around, helping her stitch together that wound.

Miles.

She betrayed him.

Betrayed him for a society she thought she could trust.

But instead he lost his trust in her, and she was sent back to her world, to her father.

He's better now--she swears--but sometimes, in the dark, she'll get scared of his shadow, remembering how he came up behind her in the rubble with his gun raised towards her.

Towards Spider-Woman.

She remembers her hands shaking, trying not to drop the mask that protected her identity. The mask that had separated her two worlds from her father.

She had pulled it off for him, and then he raised his gun at her instead. His Gwen.

And so she remembers leaving. Which had started this entire mess in the first place.

Would this all have changed if she had let Peter in? If she had let him know who she was?

Would she want to go back and change it all if-

The feeling of a needle sliding into her neck made Gwen snap back to reality, having completely ignored her blaring spidey-sense to realize Doc Ock had slipped a needle into her.

The world seemed hazy now... everything whirling around her at a sickening speed.

Gwen closed her eyes, feeling slightly nauseous, and didn't open them again.