#people walk beside him every day breathe the same air

[myfirstnameisagent]

Masks

Inspired by https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT29oGYcS/

art and comment section

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: What happens when Bucky tries to acclimate to society that requires masks for covid

Warnings: Panic attacks, abstract mentions of violence, sad bucky, ptsd, idk it's sad man

It really shouldn't have been that serious.

Two strings that were meant to fit around his ears stretched across his fingers, nothing but paper in between. It was designed to be light and breathable.

It was simple, it was easy, and everyone else was able to do it.

So why couldn't he?

Well, he knew why, but the truth didn't bring him any comfort. It made him feel ridiculous.

There were so many sacrificing much more for the sake of keeping people safe from the rampent spread, and he couldn't even bring himself to wear the mask to go out with you.

The soldier stared at the mirror before him, attempting to calm himself with a deep inhale. He'd excused himself to the bathroom nut in reality, he was trying to sike himself up to put it on. The face staring back at him was still him, with his overgrown stubble and short stuffs of hair you would probably attempt to fix before walking outside. However, every movement to bring his mask up increased the stony dread in the pit of his stomach.

If he hadn't felt ridiculous before, he certainly did when he brought it up over his ears. The man in the mirror wasn't him anymore. Well , it was, but not the him he ever wanted to see again.

The same steely blues were staring back at him, but they were framed by smears of black and completely devoid of any sort of life. Long curtains of hair matted with blood framed his face, and he felt it before he saw it. The heavy weight of the thick black mask pressed against his nose and mouth. His own hot breath blew back at him, nostrils filled with the smell of the synthetic material as it overwhelmed his senses. Air suddenly became limited, and there was no oxygen in his lungs as he could hear the shrilling screams and caught a glimpse of crimson splatters all over his hands and-

He was only momentarily pulled from his panic by the loud cracking sound. He blinked rapidly, and instead of blood stained hands, he was holding a chunk of your marble counter. Somewhere in it all, he'd gripped it so tightly it broke off in his metal hand, but it didn't matter as he let it roll off his palm and onto the ground beneath him. He stumbled back, tearing the mask from his face and throwing it limply towards the mirror. There was a brief thump and a burning friction of him sliding down the wall as the screams were replaced by the sound of blood pumping in his ears. His rapid heartbeat rattled his skull, and his chest shuttered with depleted lung capacity. No matter how quickly he tried to breathe, there was no air, and his palms pressed up against his eyes, discovering tears he hadn't even noticed were falling.

The next time he looked up, he found you crouched down in front of him, and he jumped so violently the wall was in danger of having the same fate as the sink.

"Hey. I'm sorry, I knocked, but you didn't answer, and I heard the crash." You said softly, looking so concerned for him. Like he wasn't the monster he'd seen in the mirror. Like he was worth being concerned about.

You were still talking, but the words fizzled into distortion.

It was still inside him. His skin was merely a cage for the violent beast within, seconds from rearing its ugly head and ripping through the gentlest parts of him.

"Sweetheart?"

A soft and light touch on his knee grabbed his attention. "It's okay. Everything's okay."

Bucky blinked, quickly wiping sloppily at his cheeks with his palms. His words clumped together in his throat and threatened to choke him, and all he could manage was "I'm sorry about your sink."

"Eh, it was ugly. I've been looking for a reason to replace it." You shrugged, carefully maneuvering over shards of broken marble to sit on the floor beside him. "Can I touch you?"

He must have mustered up a nod because suddenly he felt the warmth of a hand on his cheek. He leaned into it, placing his own hand over it, and leaned so far over he was tipping until his head found its way into your lap. Your fingers were soon smoothing his hair before moving to scratch his scalp.

"You're home, and you're safe." You whispered softly, twirling a soft lock.

He let out a deep breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He hid his face in your thigh, letting reality saturate his senses again. Attempting to ground himself as his therapist had instructed, he tried to focus on what he felt. He felt the cold tile where his shirt had ridden up, smelled a blend of your detergent and perfume. However, when he opened his eyes, he was met with the ripped mask on the floor. He'd wanted to wear it for those around him, but also to prove to himself that he could.

"This is so stupid. I don't understand." He whispered against the denim of your jeans, the red hot shame that came after these attacks following like a chaser. He pushed further into your thigh and wanted nothing more than for the tile to split open and swallow him whole.

Your fingers continued to move through his hair. "You went through something horrible. Your brain is just trying to come to terms with it and process it all. It doesn't fully understand that you're safe now."

He hugged your leg a bit. "I'm sorry. You could go out without me."

"We can still go out. I think I'd rather go to the park instead."

He appreciated how you didn't mention that the park didn't require a mask. He nodded once more, knowing that he needed to pull himself off the floor and put himself back together, but for now, he just let himself feel the safety of you.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Jimin discovering his pinky cannot touch the floor is destroying me.

And I’d like to announce that following that Bangtan Bomb I’m now a Vminner. This is my final form before adding Taehyung to my bias list.

*Fixed typos

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i'd choose you and me...religiously

♡ a/n — for my new childhood friends to lovers series :)

♡ word count — 2.3k

♡ content — karasu tabito x fem! reader, fem! reader, childhood friends to lovers, reader is very normal and quiet, goes through 3rd grade to the U-20 vs Blue Lock game, reader doesn't understand soccer, cuddling, kissing, some cussing

♡ synopsis — Karasu Tabito has always been moved by the ordinary things in life. Your love, your laugh, just you, so ordinary because you just...fit in his life so perfectly.

Tabito Karasu had always been moved by ordinary things. The way rain left trails on windows, the sound of soccer cleats tapping against pavement, the smell of freshly cut grass on the field. Ordinary moments stayed with him long after they’d passed, as if they were somehow more precious than the extraordinary ones.

And then, there was you.

He noticed you before he ever talked to you, always quiet and off to the side, a book or sketchpad in your hands while the other kids played and shouted around you. You weren’t like the rest of them—you weren’t loud, flashy, or attention-seeking. To most, you might have seemed unremarkable.

But to Tabito, you were something special.

He just didn’t realize it until the day he saw you crying.

The afternoon sun was bright and unforgiving, casting sharp shadows on the concrete playground. Tabito was sitting on a bench, juggling a soccer ball between his feet, when he noticed the commotion.

A group of kids stood in a semi-circle around you, taunting you about being “too quiet” and “weird.” You didn’t say anything in return, but your teary eyes and the way you hugged your knees gave everything away.

Before he could think twice, Tabito was on his feet, marching over.

“Hey!” he barked, startling the group. He planted himself between you and them, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he glared them down. “Why don’t you piss off and leave her alone?”

The kids hesitated, their bravado faltering under his sharp gaze. Eventually, one muttered something under their breath before they all dispersed.

He turned back to you, his face softening. “You okay?”

You nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks...”

He grinned, crouching beside you. “No problem. But you owe me big time. The teacher’s totally gonna yell at me for this one.”

Sure enough, he was called out for his language later, but he didn’t care. By then, the two of you had already cemented an unspoken bond.

From that day on, Tabito Karasu became your first—and only—friend.

By the time junior high rolled around, Tabito had become a name everyone knew. He was a rising soccer star, his talent and charisma drawing people to him like moths to a flame. But no matter how busy his life got, he always made time for you.

You, on the other hand, stayed much the same. You kept to yourself, stayed out of the spotlight, and quietly supported him from the sidelines. Every game he played, you were there, clapping and cheering along with the crowd—even if you didn’t fully understand the rules.

“You seriously don’t get it?” Tabito asked one evening, his breath visible in the crisp autumn air as the two of you walked home.

He had just finished explaining the mechanics of offside for the fifth time.

“I mean... I get that the ball should go in the net,” you said hesitantly. “But everything else is... kind of fuzzy.”

Tabito groaned dramatically, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not that hard! Okay, think of it like chess—”

“Tabito, I don’t know how to play chess.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you with exaggerated disbelief. “You’re kidding me. You’ve been watching my games for years, and you don’t even know what’s happening?”

“I know you’re good,” you offered, laughing. “That’s all that matters, right?”

He sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.”

By high school, Tabito had become your anchor, and you had become his.

No matter how many people surrounded him or how many girls vied for his attention, he always found his way back to you. He walked you to your classes, saved you a spot at lunch, and invited you over to his house whenever your parents were working late.

One night, after a particularly heavy rainstorm, you ended up staying at his place again. His mom gave you a pillow and blanket for the floor in his room, but when you lay down, the hardwood felt unbearably cold.

“You seriously gonna sleep there?” Tabito asked from his bed, leaning over the edge to look at you.

“Where else would I sleep?”

He rolled his eyes. “Here. Come on.”

“Tabito, your mom said—”

“The floor’s freezing. Just get up here.”

You hesitated, but the warmth in his voice and the ease of his grin convinced you. Moments later, you were lying beside him, your head resting on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“This is too close,” you muttered, though you made no effort to move even though there was plenty of room on his bed.

“Shut up,” he replied, laughing softly.

After a long silence, you spoke again. “Someone asked me what my name was today. We’ve been going to school together since junior high, and they didn’t know my name.”

Tabito’s hand slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. “That’s their loss,” he murmured. “You’re unforgettable.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart beating faster than it should have. “Tabito—”

Before you could ask what he meant, his lips were on yours.

When he pulled back, you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and steady.

“I don’t care what happened. I’d never forget your name.” He kissed you again. “Your face.” Another kiss. “Your goddamn voice.”

You stared at him, your cheeks burning, and he grinned. “You’re mine, okay? Have been for a while.”

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window as Tabito’s mom opened the door. She froze, her eyes widening at the sight of the two of you curled up together in his bed.

“Tabito Karasu!”

Breakfast was... awkward. Over toast and eggs, you and Tabito sheepishly explained your newly minted relationship, only to be rewarded with an impromptu birds-and-the-bees talk.

Tabito groaned, hiding his face in his hands while you tried—and failed—not to laugh.

The letter came during your senior year.

You sat under a tree in the park, the letter in your lap as Tabito leaned back on his hands, staring up at the sky.

“This is it,” he said softly. “This is how I make it big.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m proud of you.”

His grin faltered when he looked at you. “You don’t look proud.”

“I am,” you insisted, forcing a smile. “I just... I’ll miss you.”

“Hey,” he said, reaching over to take your hand. “It’s not forever. Just until I make it. Then I’m coming back for you.”

You knew he would, because when Karasu set his mind on something, he would get to it, no matter what it took.

You just wished that he wouldn't have to leave for an uncertain amount of time, but you wouldn't say that. He was still yours, always would be, no matter how long you were apart.

When Tabito left for Blue Lock, he packed light—just the essentials. But tucked carefully at the bottom of his bag was something that wasn’t on any checklist: a collection of your letters.

Some were filled with words of encouragement, like the time you’d written after his first big loss, telling him that failure didn’t define him and that he’d always be a winner in your eyes. Others were playful, teasing him about his ego while reminding him to eat properly and not slack off during training. And then there were the ones you wrote late at night, when the ache of missing him felt too heavy to ignore. Those letters carried lipstick marks on the edges, small imprints of your love pressed onto the paper as if they could somehow close the distance between you.

He read those letters often. Whenever the loneliness crept in or the pressure of Blue Lock’s brutal competition threatened to overwhelm him, he would pull one out, smoothing the creases and letting your words fill the silence. Your voice, even through ink and paper, was his anchor.

One day, during a rare quiet moment in the dorms, Otoya noticed one of the letters poking out of Tabito’s duffel bag. Curiosity piqued, he reached over and grabbed one, holding it up with a mischievous grin. “What’s this?”

Tabito, who had been lounging on his bed, immediately sat up. His sharp glare shot across the room like a warning. “Put it down, Otoya.”

But Otoya, ever the instigator, was already opening it. “Aw, come on, don’t be so uptight—” His eyes scanned the first few lines before he froze, his smirk widening. “Oh-ho, what’s this? A girlfriend?”

Tabito was on his feet in an instant, snatching the letter back with a scowl. “None of your business.”

Otoya leaned back, hands raised in mock surrender, but his laughter rang out, echoing in the small dorm room. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Karasu. You’ve got that whole ‘too cool for relationships’ vibe going on, but here you are, all sentimental. Lipstick marks, too? Damn, she’s really got you wrapped around her finger, huh?”

Tabito stuffed the letter into his bag, his jaw tight. He didn’t bother responding to the teasing; it wasn’t worth his energy. Instead, he turned his back to Otoya, muttering under his breath, “Shut up.”

But as Otoya’s laughter died down, Tabito’s fingers brushed the edges of the letter. He could feel the faint ridges of your handwriting beneath the paper, the weight of your love in every stroke of the pen.

A small smile tugged at his lips, one he didn’t let Otoya see.

Because Otoya was wrong about one thing: you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger. No, it was deeper than that. You were his lifeline, his reminder of everything waiting for him back home.

The teasing didn’t matter. The competition didn’t matter. What mattered was the thought of you—always cheering him on, always believing in him.

One day, he promised himself. One day, he’d read those letters with you sitting beside him, not miles apart. And when that day came, he’d show you just how much your words, your love, had carried him through.

For now, though, he folded the letter and placed it carefully back in his bag, ready to fight his way to that future.

Watching the Blue Lock team play against the U-20 team almost put you into an early grave, you swear, Blue Lock won, of course. ( You totally weren't praying on some of the U-20 team's downfall during the game...not at all)

The crowd’s roar was deafening, a wave of cheers and chants reverberating through the stadium. You stood on the sidelines, heart pounding as the Blue Lock team celebrated their hard-fought victory on the field.

You had come all this way to watch him, to see for yourself just how much he’d grown. And yet, even after all these years of supporting him, nothing had prepared you for this moment.

Your eyes darted across the players, searching, until—suddenly—you felt arms wrap tightly around your waist. Your feet left the ground as you were spun around, a loud gasp escaping your lips.

“Tabito!” you exclaimed, laughter bubbling out of you.

When he finally set you back down, you turned to see his grinning face, his hair damp with sweat and a few stray blades of grass stuck to his jersey. He looked different—stronger, sharper, more determined—but when his eyes met yours, the warmth in them hadn’t changed one bit.

“You did it!” you said, reaching out to touch his face as if to make sure he was real. “You actually did it.”

“Of course I did,” he replied, his tone cocky, but his grin softened when his hand came up to cup yours. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as pride swelled in your chest. But before you could say anything else, the words you’d been holding back for years tumbled out:

“Tabito, I finally got it today!”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Got what?”

“Soccer!” you blurted, your voice trembling with excitement. “I mean, okay, maybe not all of it, but at the kickoff, I just... I got it! I understood why you love it so much. I felt it. When the game started, I was so excited I almost screamed! And when you got close to the goal, I was on the edge of my seat. I wanted you to score so badly.”

His eyes widened in surprise before his expression melted into something softer, something that made your heart ache in the best way. “You... really mean that?”

“Yes!” you said, gripping the front of his jersey like you’d never let him go. “I finally understood why you’ve worked so hard, why this means so much to you. It’s amazing, Tabito. You’re amazing.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t find the words. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he pulled you into another spin, your laughter echoing above the noise of the crowd.

When he set you down again, he didn’t hesitate—his lips found yours, and the world fell away.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re the one who’s amazing,” he whispered. “And you know what? That was the only goal I needed today��hearing you say that.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you wiped away a stray tear. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” you admitted, your voice barely audible over the roar of the stadium.

He glanced around, the chaos of victory still unfolding behind him, but all his focus was on you. “Hey,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “Will you follow me? No matter where this takes me?”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Anywhere. Always.”

His grin returned, wider than ever, and he kissed you again, as if sealing a promise. And as the stadium lights bathed you both in a golden glow, you knew you’d never stop cheering for him—on the field or off.

Karasu Tabito has always been moved by the ordinary things in life. Your love, your laugh, just you, so ordinary because you just...fit in his life so perfectly.

i take him to my pent house and i FREAK IT

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day seven: Jealousy!

cw: jealous Simon Riley, sex at a party, dub con, hair pulling, rough sex, use of being owned, mentions of male masturbation, mentions of cumming untouched, reader gets fucked stupid, use of instagram and people messaging the reader, filming a video/ pornography?, creampie

Simon Riley who isn't a jealous boyfriend. So what you're absolutely drop dead fucking gorgeous and gain every males attention in the room, he didn’t care. He wasn't going to let their gazes get to him, how low do you think of him? You weren’t theirs, they didn’t own you- he did.

One strong, muscular, arm draped over your shoulder as his eyes locked on a man across the room, lips puckered with irritation as he sipped from his beer at your friend’s Halloween party. They knew better than to look at you, they knew better than to even think about competing against him. He’d kill them- he’d enjoy it too.

Simon Riley who isn't a jealous boyfriend but has to blink away his emotions when you walk over to him. Hips swaying and tits bouncing in your revealing little Halloween outfit- the outfit he couldn't get enough of. You had posted a photo on your story once you'd arrived; Simon, of course, being behind the camera, making sure your body look divine and your pretty little face impeccable.

His sexy little girl had to look her best on camera. Your red lipsticked lip quivering in fear as you held out your phone to him, his eyes scanning the messages some sorry excuse of a man had sent you.

'My dick would look so good inside you.' Was written, followed by a 'I'm fucking my fist to your photos.' It was perverted, pathetic and overall just sad. Simon could almost see why they’d sent that, he would’ve done the same have you had not been dating.

Who wouldn't think thoughts like that? Who wouldn't stroke their cock to the sight of you, so innocent and lovely. Simons dick hardened as he remembered the first time you’d met. Your eyes alluring him, having him cumming in his jeans just from one look, he had to keep you for himself after that.

His hand grabbed your small one, the roughness of his scared palm contrasting between your moisturised hands. Smooth soft skin against his textured one. He lead you upstairs in this guys home, walking into an empty bedroom before circling around the edge of the bed, signalling for you to join him there.

Upon entering the unoccupied room, your shifted in the air, high heels clacking against the floor as you stood hesitantly, unsure. Swallowing down the caution in your voice, your eyes locked on to Simon.

"What are we doing?" But he just continued to instruct you over, grinning playfully. You sat on the bed beside him and before you could process anything he pushed you down against the duvet, grabbing you by the hair and laying you on your front. Hand guiding downwards to rip your thong off before grabbing your phone and pressing record.

His cock slammed into your pussy hard, hips thrusting faster than ever as you choked out a sob, tears pouring from your eyes as Simon used you, fucked and fucked you before he spoke up.

Voice dark and husked, slightly strained from how good he was feeling as he brought your pussy into shot, filming the way his cock slid inside and fit perfectly. Capturing your skimpy Halloween costume practically falling off of your body too.

"O’s cunt is this?" He growled. Words sprawled uselessly from your lips: too lost in the pleasure. The only thing you could mutter being a 'you' before returning back to your whimpering and drooling mess. Simon couldn’t contain his laugh, slowing the pace down just a little. The slap of his balls hitting you as his thrusts calmed. The fist buried deep in your hair clutched as he yanked you back, face facing the ceiling as you breathed heavily.

"Say it. Tell him who owns this cunt, baby." And you cried, managing to say Simon through the ecstasy you were feeling, so lost and drowning in pleasure to care anymore. You didn't care why he was fucking you, how he was fucking you or what he was going on your phone- you just wanted him to keep going and not to slow down until you finish all over his cock.

Simon flipped the camera around, capturing himself a redden cheeked, lidded eyed mess with sweat droplets falling from his forehead, panning the camera down once more to show his muscular body thrusting in and out one last time.

"That's right, it’s mine. My tight pussy- my wet hole to fuck. Oh it’s all mine- you’re mine baby. She’s fucking mine." Before ending the video, spilling deep into you, coating your insides white before sending it off. Brown eyes flickering up to watch as your body melts, the warmth and comfort of what just happened casting a fast sleep over you.

His hand rubbed soothing circles over your back, watching as you shifted to get comfortable, smiling down at you protectively. He quickly opened the messages one last time, not feeling fully satisfied, typing something quickly before shutting the phone off and throwing it somewhere on the bed.

Oh and mate, feel free to go fuck yourself as much as you want to this video. Because you will never ever be in my position. Never.

[caramelkoo]

before we shatter — jjk [two]

genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook

word count : 5.1k

summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

chapter warnings : ANGST, eventual fluff, mentions death of a loved one, mentions of Alzheimer's disease, strong language, mature, cheating (not by the main characters), jungkook will piss you off but he's deserving of love too :((, slight making out but nothing else. i think that's it, please mention if i missed anything.

a/n : OH MY GOD IT TOOK ME FOREVER !!!! here it is my pookies <333 i hope this will heal the past trauma that part one caused yall omfg. i love you so much and send an ask if you want to. You're so so cherished.

Jungkook’s fingers press on the digital lock before it beeps, indicating the door has been unlocked. 

“Babe, I’m home” 

He expects his girlfriend, Nicole to say anything in response but, on the contrary, all he gets is pure silence. Not a single person breathing the same air as him inside the house. His eyebrows crease in utter confusion and he wonders if he she went outside in order to run any errands.

Nicole is a fashion designer who he met when she was appointed to design his concert outfits for the group’s previous world tour. At first, there were some stolen glances, eye contacts, and innocent touches but when he found himself looking for her in the room full of people, it had to be more than that. 

At the risk of sounding like a nervous wreck with zero experience with women, Jungkook had walked back and forth approximately 46 times before he took up the hatchet to ask her on a date, to which she’d smirked and whispered a yes in response.

Listen, Jungkook is a confident man. Add a confident yet adorably shy woman beside him and you have got yourself the perfect mix of charisma and charm. Not to say that he was not totally enthralled by her. He genuinely wanted to get to know her better and that’s not only because she was confident, of course. 

Ordinarily, he’d find her on the couch going through her designs or making herself the 50th cup of coffee. It all really depends, but tonight the eerie silence surrounding him makes his stomach hurt. A nagging feeling arises in his chest and he hopes everything is okay. 

He releases a breath and walks further in towards the bedroom. Who knows, she got tired of working all day and went in there to take a nap. 

Much to his disappointment, just as his hands grip the doorknob, a moan comes from the other side of the wall and he freezes. 

“You’re so good to mommy, aren’t you?” 

He can’t mistake the voice even if he tries to. He hears it all day, every night by his side. 

Nicole has complemented him in every spectrum of their relationship. She’d been equally successful, equally fun and adventurous, and matched every desire and aspirations of his.

Tow bodies, one soul if you will.

Turns out, she lagged behind on the spectrum of honesty. 

Knowing he can’t be just standing there and not find out who she’s been fucking behind his back, he twists the knob and pushes the door open. The moan which earlier caused his heart to momentarily stop now turning into a full blown scream. 

“What the fuck?” 

You might prefer to think that Jungkook was the one to exclaim that, but no. Sitting on the bed with wide eyes and no clothes is his manager, Tae moo. Next to him is Nicole, trying to cover herself up with the help of the duvet as if she’d not spent the majority of nights sleeping beside Jungkook in the very same state after he’d made love to her. 

“Jungkook, baby. I can explain” 

His jaw goes tight, voice turning shaky. “Get out of my house.” 

Fierce eyes are pointed at the manager the whole time and he doesn’t even bother to look at Nicole. As if someone had set his non-existent pants on fire,Tae moo hurries and plucks whatever fabric he can from the floor and rushes outside. 

When Jungkook finally glances at Nicole, she’s got the same look on her face which she does when she wants something from him but can’t get herself to form the words. Desperate and pleading. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, tone acidic when he asks, “Why are you still here?” 

“What?” 

“Why? Did he fuck the common sense out of you?” 

She blanches at his words, clearly not expecting him to talk like that. “Please don’t talk to me like that. I told you I can explain.”

Jungkook can’t help but let out a chuckle infused with bitterness and disbelief, “What could possibly justify you fucking my manager, Nicole. Were you lonely? Did I not give you enough love and attention? Was my dick not enough for you that you just had to jump on another one?” 

Every word that comes out of his mouth has an intention of hurting the woman in front of him. Standing there when Jungkook tries to figure out any possible cause of this betrayal, he registers something.

While Jungkook was thriving because of the fact that he has a woman who supports him and keeps him on his toes, holds him when the world gets mean to him, the said woman was using him to feed her ego. He had been indispensable for her to gain the popularity that was left for her. The truth that he'd been a ladder all along for her in order to climb till success hits him like a torrent and an ache throbs through his chest. 

“Why would you need another designer when I’m here?”

“Jungkook c’mon, all my friends are gonna be there. Don’t be a spoilsport.” 

“Do they not let you post your girlfriends on your official instagram profile?” 

Everything falls into place like a missing piece of puzzle fitting into space. Additionally, Nicole had not even gotten close with any of Jungkook’s friends’ girlfriends and he’d decided not to dwell on the fact for his own peace.

Arguably, some people just don’t click and that’s fine. Except, those people don’t denounce other women behind their back. Her adulterated personality was oozing out of her and he managed to miss it. 

“I don’t know, babe. Her dress was too revealing. Take it from a fashion designer when I tell you she was not fit for that dress” 

“Isn’t she too touchy with her boyfriend in public? I mean I understand you’re in love but jeez” 

It is often said that when you’re in love, you’re unable to see your lover’s flaws because you get blinded. Blinded by their beauty, their charm, and their affection towards you. Safe to say, Jungkook can relate. 

“Get out”

‘Please just liste-”

His pitch goes higher. “RIGHT.NOW” 

Subsequently, he had been off the market for two whole years. Unfortunately, though, he couldn’t escape the endless amount of impolite and not to mention personal questions about his relationship during the interviews. 

“Jungkook, you were seen coming out of several restaurants and clubs with a woman a few years back, but we’ve not seen her for a while now. Is there something you’d like your fans to know?”  

“The ladies out there are having a field day because it seems our favourite superstar, Jeon Jungkook is single again” 

“Is there any chance of us getting to see the mysterious woman again?” 

Fucking exhausting. 

Then, one fine day, he met you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Maybe, the trust issues made home inside of him after he found his ex-girlfriend naked and sweaty on his bed with his manager. Maybe, you can blame it on the fact that he had still not gotten over the agony caused by his past relationship.

It’s almost like the words that come out of his mouth throw him two years back to the very same room where he tasted the vile taste of betrayal. 

“Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?” 

The sentence is so absurd and disgusting that you can’t stop your hands from connecting with his face with a hard force. His face turns sideways as his skin stings because of the slap.

“Watch your tone with me, Jeon Jungkook.” The words are barely a whisper as you gulp, flying into a rage and hoping he eats his own words. 

You’re half naked, your hair's a damn mess and you probably have a swollen face with boogers in your eyes, but at this moment, you have to stand up for yourself without caring about any of that. You can’t be the person to take first hand beating of something you haven’t even thought of doing.

When he looks back at you, you wish someone was holding you because your legs feel weak. The look of betrayal and anger is long gone and now the only thing that exists behind those big doe eyes is hurt. A pain which makes you want to disintegrate. 

“Baby, I didn’t mean-”

“You know what, _____? I would have seen this coming. I was a fucking fool to even wish for a normal bond with someone without some shit happening to us.” 

You watch him storm out the door, slamming it so hard it rattles on its hinges after throwing the blue file on the bed. Your feet remain frozen to the wooden floor and you hope he comes running back in, says he’s sorry and he wants to talk it out. 

“Some shit”. He just called the whole situation shit.

A terrible labyrinth of anger, guilt and grief traps you as you find yourself wishing that a tight hug could fix the scattered pieces and mould your relationship back into one beautiful piece.

The words on the report stare back at you as they somehow feel more painful now that your boyfriend is aware of them. He knows he’s got into something he hasn’t signed up for and the thought that before you could even explain everything to him, before you could even tell him that you would rather die but hide anything let alone information as huge as this, he’d walked out. 

Placing the file on the nightstand, you go through your usual morning routine. Take a shower, change into fresh clothes and take your supplements.

Everything is blurry to you, the feeling of loss lingering deep in your chest, slightly aware of the fact that physically, Jungkook is nearby, mentally? You’re not so sure.

Despite your better judgement, you walk towards the kitchen with the motive of making your breakfast and you find Jungkook looking for something under the couch with two suitcases standing in front of the door. Was he gonna leave without letting you know? When did he even pack?

You take a deep breath and release, knowing exactly what he is looking for, “Are you looking for your glasses?” 

He straightens back up and holds your gaze. There’s a bit of delay before his answer reaches your ears. “Yeah um, I can’t seem to find them anywhere” 

A minuscule smile forms on your face, “They’re inside the bedside drawer. I kept them there cause you know, you tend to lose them” 

He doesn’t share the humor as you feel a pang in your chest intensifying. It’s suddenly so quiet that you can hear your as well as his breathing. And it’s uneven. Has your home always been this quiet? 

You clear your throat, eyes finding the suitcases behind him, “Heading somewhere?” 

He does the same and looks back at you. “Yeah uh, you remember Jimin calling me yesterday when we-,” he pauses, “Well, I have to go overseas to promote the album and get done with some other formalities” 

You flash him an understanding smile, feeling utterly shattered inside and not sure if you should ask him as to why he didn't bother to let you know or just let it slide. The question is right at the tip of your tongue but thinking better of it, you gulp it back down. 

“Of course. How long will you be gone?” 

He slides his hands inside his front pockets and sighs, “Probably a week. You can’t be precise when it comes to promotions.” 

“Alright,” you halt, “Uh.. do you want me to get the glasses for yo-” 

“No, I've got it.” He says as he excuses himself. When he comes back, the glasses are resting on his nose making him look even more beautiful than he already is in your eyes. 

A faint memory of you wiping his glasses for him with your slip dress comes to the surface and you hide a smile.

You watch him round the kitchen counter and pick up his jacket. As he grips the suitcases with both of his hands, the gleaming bracelet catches your attention. 

What are the odds of him preparing to live without it on his wrist? What are the odds of him preparing to live without you? 

You’re not surprised when he begins walking out the front door without saying a word. But you know you have to. You have to let him know that you don’t have any intention of giving up on him. 

With your palms turning clammy, you speak and prepare yourself for whatever comes back as a response, “Wait” 

His feet come to a stop, but him not bothering to turn around does nothing to ease your ache if not adds to it.

Swallowing, you continue, “Whe-when you come back, I want to talk it out. I want you to know that you mean too much to me for me to hide such a major information from you and one that has to do with both of us at that. Yes, I held back for a while but that’s just because I wanted to forget,” the damn tears are threatening to fall yet again, “I wanted to feel for the last time what it's like to be in your arms, your warmth before I break your heart and mine in the process,” Your fastening heartbeat causes you to grip your cardigan in a tight fist, 

“Can I at least get a hug?” 

His shoulders visibly go tensed as he admits over his shoulders, “I’m afraid if I so much as look at you for more than a second, I will break.” 

With that the front door opens and closes, leaving you with nothing but warm tears. You try your fucking hardest not to take his statement as face value but god you want to curl up and die. Although, you know none of this is your fault. If only you could see what the future holds, everything could have been much more bearable. 

You’re scared you’ll lose everything— him, your happiness, your future together. 

You’re scared you’ll burn.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

For as long as he can remember, Jungkook’s childhood had been filled with vivid memories of his parents’ kisses, them being madly in love with each other, dancing in the kitchen, planning picnic dates and thousands of giggles. He had been blessed with a mother who loved his father more than Jungkook has ever seen someone loving the other person, and his father reciprocated the love tenfold. 

Along with the love he also had another emotion wrapped around his heart in a tight grip. Fear. Fear that all of that would dissipate. You know, how sometimes when you’re too happy, there’s just a fucking voice inside of you screaming, “It won’t last long”? 

That’s exactly what he used to feel. The root of the fear was a mystery to him and he even tried to forget about it, thinking it might be just a pipe dream.

Except, it was not. 

And then one day, like a bolt from the blue, Jungkook’s dad was gone.

He still remembers the day very clearly when he saw his dad’s body being carried away on a stretcher, heavy and cold. Meanwhile, he just stood there with fat tears streaming down his cheeks, his mom arms stopping him from running behind his father.

Then, if that was not enough to break him, he lost his mom. Not physically but mentally when her mental state started to deteriorate over the next few years. Before he knew it, his mother totally forgot about his identity as well as his father’s. Apparently, that left a scar far too deep.

What’s it like to forget the ones you love?

Even though Jungkook had made peace with the fact that his mother will never return the same way he’d known her for, a small part of him still hopes. After all, what’s so wrong in hoping? 

His feet drag him down the long hallway filled with wooden brown doors until he stops and stands before one. He clears his throat as he watches the woman just lie there and stare into nothing in particular. 

When he gains her attention, a smile breaks out from her lips, “There you are. I knew you would come, Jimin.” 

Jungkook runs a palm over his chest, a futile effort to soothe the ache.

“It’s Jungkook, mom. Your son” 

“My son? How do you know my son?” The vivaciousness long gone from his mom’s voice.

He swallows and gets further inside the room. He doesn’t try to push it because he knows for a fact that even if she recognizes him today, if tomorrow he comes back he’ll be either Jimin or Namjoon or some random man he’s never heard of. 

“How are you doing?” 

His mom sighs, a pout on her lips as she looks down, “Still the same. I asked the nurse for a cup of tea hours back but she seems to have forgotten about it. That witch.” 

He chuckles, sitting himself on the stool. “I’m sure she’s bringing it in for you.” 

Her eyes move over to the window and settle on the maple tree outside. Just watching it. Jungkook ponders if she remembers chasing him under the maple tree when he was a child. It’s his favorite memory.

“A kind woman stopped by a few days back. God knows what her name was but she had this.. sad look in her eyes, as if someone had snatched something away from her and she’s broken over it. I wonder if people look at me and feel the same amount of sympathy that I did towards her that day. I’m not a fool, I know I’m sick. I could be dead by tomorrow for all you know,” she releases a small sigh as Jungkook waits for her to continue. 

Except she doesn’t and in that moment, Jungkook just…. knows. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook’s eyes have not left the silver bracelet on his wrist for a while now, brushing it with his fingers lightly as if that would help him rectify his mistakes. He wants to slap himself whenever he remembers the look on your face when those cursed words left him. You looked so broken, so tired.

The woman his mother mentioned is you, it’s so obvious. Something about the way she told him about you made him want to swallow a fistful of iron nails. Fuck even that would hurt less. For a second he saw himself at her place and that made his insides twist in such a way that he didn’t understand. 

What if one day he just wakes up and doesn’t remember you? What if it all just disappears? Her memories, your smile, your sweet giggles, your moans, your touch. 

The thought itself makes him want to rip something into pieces not to mention rip his own heart into pieces. 

Jungkook can hardly walk through the veil of darkness which fills the hall. He holds his phone screen up for light, calling out for you.

“Honey, you home?” 

No response. With his heart in his throat he starts moving towards the bedroom. Gripping the doorknob, he twists it as the door clicks open. Before he can start panicking because of the empty room with nothing but his own stuff scattered around, a cough reaches his ears. 

His brows crease into a frown, confused. “_____, I’m starting to worry.” 

Another cough follows, making his breath pick up its pace. Following the sound, he finds himself standing outside the guest room’s door. Wasting no time he pushes the door open as he watches you on the bed covered in layers of blanket with sweat all over your forehead.

He rushes to you in a quick second, heart beating fast. “Hey, hey baby,” voice coming out as gently as possible, “You okay? Why are you here?” 

Your eyes land on his face as you sniff. “This is what happens when you eat your weight in a bucket full of ice cream on a Sunday night.” 

Jungkook’s expression flashes with relief, grateful that it’s nothing more than an unfortunate cold. 

“You should leave.”

He blinks, “What?” 

“You're more contagious to the cold than anyone I know, baby. Go. I’ll be fine” 

To be honest, he could give zero fucks about catching a cold right now. He holds your gaze for a long moment before standing up. 

A quick look of hurt passes through your eyes, but you recover just as quickly. 

“If you think I’m gonna leave you here in this state then you underestimate my love for you, honey. I don’t know if you remember, but you wanted us to talk once I come back and I want you to get better and get talking, alright? God knows how I managed to have survived two weeks without you by my side, but now that I’m here, you’re going nowhere out of my sight.” 

“Jungkoo-”

He interrupts, “As for those reports, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t care if we can’t have kids normally as most people do,” he runs his hands through his black locks, messing them up as he continues,

“In every sense of the word, I just want you. I want you right here with me, holding my hand and making me the happiest motherfucker ever. We’ll try something else. We’ll adopt, we’ll go with IVF, we’ll-” 

“Jungkook” 

“Yeah?” 

“Breathe, baby” 

So he does as he fills his chest with air, taking a moment to relax. Reaching over, you take his hands in your soft and warm ones, caressing his knuckle tattoo.

“Do I have the permission to be selfish just for one more time?” 

He offers you a weak smile, “You were never selfish to begin with, my love.” 

Your hands pull him towards you until he’s lying down by your side. He wraps his arms around you, holding you so close you’re almost one.  

Jungkook presses a kiss on your clammy forehead followed by one on the tip of your nose, “You okay?” 

“I am now” you whisper, letting your head drop weakly forward to pepper kisses across his hoodie clad chest. 

“I’m gonna speak now and I want you to listen, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Your fingers clutch his hoodie in a small fist as you begin, “I lied about babysitting Coco and I’m sorry about that since I know we promised to never lie to each other, but I had a reason for that. I was at the hospital when you called. I knew you would be at the studio and I didn’t want to put you through that when you’re working,” 

You look up at him, eyes full of love and affection, “When I was young, my mom showed me an orange butterfly which I immediately fell in love with. I played with it for hours before I went back inside the house. I let it go, wishing it would visit me again. I had to let that butterfly go, Jungkook. Because I knew I couldn’t keep holding onto it. I was gonna do the same with you that night. I had it all planned out, I was gonna let you know about my infertility and then I was going to ask you for a breakup. Thankfully, I didn’t. Do you know why?”

Resigned, Jungkook shakes his head as a teardrop falls. 

“Because some things and some people are worth staying for. You’re worth staying for. I was stupid enough to think that I would survive without you, that I would be able to weather the storm without you by my side.” 

You’re sobbing now, sniffing as your fingers wipe Jungkook’s tears away. 

He cups your cheek, his fingers brushing featherlight on your skin as the most tantalizing caress. “You don’t have to. I’ll never leave you, baby. You’re it for me. I can’t breathe without you, _____. Do I want a family one day? Of course, Do I want it without you in it? Over my dead body. You’re my present and I very much have the intention of making you my future too. With all due respect, but something as trivial as that report is not gonna stop me from doing that.” 

A heavy moment of silence hangs in the air as he just stares at the love of his life, he didn’t even realize when the power came back, illuminating the whole guest room.

You are the first one to say, “I love you.” 

“I love you the most.” he declares as his lips brush with yours with immense gentleness and love. 

“Jungkook?” 

“Yeah honey?” 

“What do you think about calling our daughter, Ji woo? If we ever have one?” your voice comes out muffled because of the way you’re snuggled against his chest. 

His lips stretch into the biggest grin ever, chest filling with pride because the woman who he loves the most in his life asked to name the girl he’d love the most in his life after a woman who loves him the most in her life. Even if she doesn’t know it. 

“I’d love that.” 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Few years later 

“What-” you gasp as your body goes tense for a quick second before relaxing against Jungkook’s chest. His arms circling around your waist, making you feel cozy and at home. 

“You really need to stop scaring me like this.” 

“Why? I can’t hug my wife now? I know you secretly like back hugs.” 

Wife. The word still holds the same love and power as it did the first time he asked “Will you be my wife and make me the happiest man in the world, honey?” 

You let your head fall back against his chest and look up at him, “You know what? I do.” 

“I know you like the back of my hand, wifey.” he says, leaning down to drop a light kiss on your forehead. 

“I love it when you call me that, but right now you’re distracting me.” Your hands start running over his forearms, caressing. It’s like a habit for you. You need to touch him whenever you can, feel him close to you as much as possible. He’s always so warm and soft, it makes you all fuzzy on the inside. 

His mouth nibbles on your ear, making you shudder. “I don’t think so. Besides I barely get to have you for myself these days.” 

You sigh and just let yourself relax in his hold. The past few days have been hectic to say the least and nothing can heal you better than being in your husband’s arms. “How was practice, baby?”

Jungkook has been working on a new album resulting in him spending most of his time in the studio. You miss him, of course, it’s only normal, but you’re also beyond proud. He took a momentous break from his work the same year you guys were facing issues and he didn’t so much as leave your side, promising to always stick around. Through thick and thin as he said in the wedding vows. 

He ignores your question and sucks on your neck, making you groan. 

“Jungkook” His lips find yours and he steals a kiss, hands pushing under your sundress as he caresses the back of your thigh. Goosebumps break out all over your body and you curse at the fact that he still holds so much power over you. Your legs go weak and your clutch onto his shoulder for support. 

As he lets your lips go with a loud pop, you open your eyes and look at him. 

“What are the chances of me getting lucky tonight?” he asks, hands still under your dress, now grazing your ass. 

“It-”

Before you could answer him, the sound of tiny footsteps running towards you both reached you. And there she is, your prettiest five year old letting out the biggest shriek after she sees her daddy all but falling down from enthusiasm.

“Da!” her feet pick up the pace as she runs towards him with arms wide open. 

You detangle yourself from your husband’s hold and he takes a step back.

He crouches down and catches your little girl, Ji woo, in his arms. Groaning as she crashes into him. “Ooff” 

“Da, I missed you. You’re coming to the picnic with us, right? Mommy says you are.” 

You watch him laugh and peck her chubby cheek. “Of course, sunshine. Nice daddies never miss picnics with their daughters, do they?” 

As they talk like their goofy selves, you just take a moment and watch. By the grace of all things good, you’ve had the chance to visit almost everywhere in the world, but this right here is the best view. After musing about it, you and Jungkook decided to go with IVF and you’ve not regretted it ever since. Hands down the best decision of your life. 

Waking up and seeing your husband with your daughter sprawled on his chest as she lets out tiny little snores, watching her fall in love with the same eyes as you did, going on family dates, going to his concerts wearing the same outfits and whatnot. It’s more than enough for you to thank your lucky stars that you stayed. 

“Mommy, daddy says he’ll not steal my strawberry this time.” 

You offer her a gentle smile. “Daddy is a little liar, baby” 

She lets out the cutest gasp ever, cupping Jungkook’s face with her tiny hands. His face is so big in her hands it’s almost chucklesome.

“Is that right, daddy?” 

He playfully narrows his eyes at you as you stick your tongue out. “Mommy’s just jealous because you love daddy more. Now, what do you think of making those bracelets together?”

Ji woo’s face lights up like the fourth of July and she starts squirming like a little butterfly in his arms, flapping her arms. She’s been asking for her own bracelet after seeing the silver one on Jungkook’s wrist for years now. He suggested custom making one and she got so excited one would think he got her a pet dog or something. Although, he’s considering that too. Nothing surprising there.

When it comes to Ji woo, Jungkook is a loser in love. You’ve never seen him looking at another girl the same way he looks at his daughter. Besides you, of course. It’s innocent, pure and all things perfect. 

Before they both leave, she gives you a kiss on the cheek, covering her eyes when your husband pecks your lips.

Your eyes find the butterfly tattoo on your wrist, sometimes seeing it in your daughter. Excited, lively and someone who makes you want to wish it never disappears, the only difference?

Jungkook’s not afraid that everyone will let him go and you’re not uneasy about how you will have no reason to not let go. 

You’re healed.

He’s healed. 

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[woso-story]

A Shoulder To Lean On

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Alexia Putellas stood in the empty locker room, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights her only company. The echo of her coach’s words still lingered in her mind. “You won’t be making the squad for the game this weekend, Alexia.”

She had expected it. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t ready. Her knee still felt like a ticking time bomb. It wasn’t just the physical pain anymore; it was the mental battle. Every time she planted her foot, her mind flashed back to the moment of injury, the sharp sting, the helplessness. She had worked her entire life for this—everything had been for this moment. But now, standing here, she couldn’t shake the feeling of doubt. The pressure was suffocating.

It wasn’t just about the injury. It was everything. Two Ballon D’Ors, countless trophies with Barcelona, but it never felt like enough. People expected more. She was expected to be the same Alexia she had always been: the unstoppable force, the leader. But in this moment, she was just a woman with a broken knee and a heart full of worry.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind. "You’re meant for greatness, Alexia." But her father had never seen her play for Barcelona’s first team. He passed away just two months before her dream came true.

“Everything for him,” she whispered under her breath as she slowly gathered her things.

It wasn’t the game that bothered her, or the squad decision, it was the thought that she might not be able to get back to the level she had once been. That she might not be able to play again. The thought gnawed at her, every day, every moment.

But then there was you.

You, the one person who had been there through it all. The quiet strength beside her, the calm amid the storm. You had been together for over two years, and you weren't involved in football at all. It was a relief. After hours on the pitch, in front of cameras, after facing the demands of the Spanish Football Federation, you were a reminder of something normal, something simple.

Alexia walked into your shared apartment, the familiar scent of lavender filling the air. She saw you sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in hand, a soft smile tugging at your lips when you saw her.

“How was training?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. You could see it in Alexia’s eyes.

Alexia sighed, dropping her bag by the door. “I didn’t make the squad for this weekend’s game.”

You set the cup aside and patted the space beside you on the couch. “I’m sorry. But you’re doing the right thing, Lex. You know that, right?”

Alexia nodded, though the weight of it all was heavy on her chest. She wanted to argue, to say that she was ready, that she could fight through it. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t true. The knee was still fragile, and her mind... her mind was even more fragile.

Without a word, Alexia collapsed into your side, burying her face in your shoulder. And then, something happened that Alexia never expected. She felt the tears start to fall.

The floodgates opened, and all the emotions she had been suppressing poured out. She cried about the pressure, the expectations, the constant feeling that she had to be perfect. She cried about her knee, about the fear that she might never be the player she once was. She cried about her father, about how she had worked so hard to make him proud, only to have him taken from her before he could see her dreams come true.

"I don’t know if I can do it anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “What if I’m not good enough anymore? What if my knee can’t take it? What if I’m letting everyone down?”

You held her, your arms wrapping around her tightly, offering comfort without words. You let her cry, let her release the weight of the world that had been pressing down on her for so long.

“Lex,” you said softly, once the tears had slowed. “You’re not alone. I’m here. We’re in this together.”

Alexia sniffled, grateful for your unwavering support. “But I’ve worked my whole life for this. I can’t just... give up.”

“You don’t have to give up,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “You just need to give yourself time. Your knee will heal when it heals. You can’t rush it. And you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s enough.”

Alexia took a deep breath, feeling a little lighter, though the doubts still lingered. You always knew how to calm the storm inside her. You didn’t try to fix everything or offer empty reassurances. You just were there for her—a constant, steady presence, reminding her that it was okay to take a step back.

You stood, reaching out a hand to Alexia. “Come on, let’s go to bed. You need to rest.”

Alexia allowed herself to be led to the bedroom, her body heavy with exhaustion. She lay down on the bed, curling up under the soft blankets. A few minutes later, you returned with a steaming cup of tea and a small sandwich.

“You need to eat,” you said, setting the tray down next to her. “You can’t keep skipping meals.”

Alexia managed a small smile, grateful for the care that you always showed. She took a bite of the sandwich, sipping the tea slowly, feeling the warmth seep into her body.

After she finished, you crawled into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her. Alexia nestled her head into your chest, the rhythmic beat of your heart soothing her racing mind.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Alexia murmured, her voice muffled by your shirt.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied softly, your fingers threading through Alexia’s hair. “I’m always here. Always.”

Alexia’s eyes fluttered shut, the weight of the day still pressing on her, but the comfort of your embrace made it bearable.

As she drifted off to sleep, you kissed the top of her head. “You’re not alone, Lex. We're in this together. And I’ll be right here, no matter what.”

And for the first time in weeks, Alexia allowed herself to believe that things would be okay. She wasn’t alone in this fight.

[cautotelic]

Chapter 1: Tough Love

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: When you get taken away from your home land and thrown into the palace of the infamous warlord, will things be as bad as they first seemed?

TWs: past abuse, scars

A/N: this is my first time writing a fic so please let me know what you think of it, most likely this will be a series.

The rough material of the sack on my head rubs uncomfortably against my cheek. Pressed into the floors, my knees ache from what feels like hours of kneeling in the same position. I shift in discomfort and my wrists once again rub against the rope tightly bound around my hands, no doubt already bloody and bruised like the rest of me. The sound of approaching footsteps makes me flinch as they echo in the space. With a precise and calculated gait whomever has entered makes their way from behind me to stand in front of me. 

In an instant the sack is pulled from atop my head. The brightness of the room causes my gaze to drop to the marble floor as I blink my eyes into adjusting. My eyes find a pair of boots and my eyes follow the person's body to their face. When I meet her eyes my breathing stops and I tense up immediately, looking down quickly. 

“When Remu asked what I wanted in return for promising not to wage war on him, I asked for his best legionnaire. Little did I know,” she chuckles as she looks down at me. “That he would send his own kin.”

I let out a soft chuckle. “Well my father isn’t exactly known for his outstanding morals, now is he?” Glancing up at her, her expression is as solid as rock, but her eyes tell me all I need to know: pity and something else I can’t place… empathy?

“I suppose not…” she says lowly. I see her footsteps approaching before her hand is on my chin, forcing my head up. Her eyes run over my face as she twists her hand from side to side, moving my head with it. 

Her thumb gently comes up to touch at a cut on my cheekbone when I jerking my chin from her hand and glaring up at her. “Don’t touch me,” I spit out defiantly.

Her eyebrows lift with shock and her hand hovers where my face once was before she scolds her expression and moves her hands behind her back. With her head raised she exudes power.

“Take her to her quarters. Ensure that she is bathed, fed, and that no one bothers her.” She orders to the guard standing behind me. I watch her walk past me and before exiting the room she pauses. “You will start training after your injuries are healed.”

•••

“You’ve got to be kidding me, I’m not doing this,” I say as I fold my arms over my chest as I look down at the warriors training in the open arena.

“I find it funny you think you have a choice,” the man, Rictus, says from beside me halfheartedly. Despite my situation, he’s one of the only people I tolerate in this place, other than the lady that brings my food every day.

My eyes scan the sweating bodies below. “Ha ha, very funny. I’ve never taught anybody anything before, how exactly am I supposed to do this.” I ask.

He shrugs. “That's up to you but General Ambessa asked for your father's best legionnaire because of how much experience you have in combat, so she trusts you whatever you teach.”

“Well she seems to have a lot of trust in someone she’s only met once in the month I’ve been here,” I quip. In the month that I’ve been in Noxus, I’ve only seen glimpses of the warlord I now know as Ambessa, which is fine with me. 

I sigh and begin walking down the stairs that lead to the floor of the arena. I move quietly and fluidly through the groups of people and make my way to the weapons racks on the stone walls. I grab a bamboo staff from the wall before turning around to face the people. Raising the staff into the air, I knock it back and hit the gong hanging from the top of the wall. 

The ringing echoes in the large space and easily gets everyone’s attention. With all eyes on me now I clear my throat nervously before moving to the center of the crowd. 

“Where I come from is of no importance to you but I am a legionnaire and I was brought here in exchange for Noxus not going to war with my home country,” I say as I pace slowly back and forth. 

I hear murmurs of chatter at the mention of my title but continue on. “The first lesson you learn from me is how to disperse a shadow reaper. Shadow reapers are beings of pure darkness that can be summoned by legionaries. These beings are extremely powerful, incredibly agile, and will kill you without hesitation,” I say as I flick my wrist.

Nothing happens at first, but then slowly inky black wisps start seeping from the walls and from under doors to collectively join next to me. From the bottom up a figure appears and I see most of the warriors visibly pale. I smile to myself.

"This is a shadow reaper,” I say as I begin to circle the reaper. “Now, from all my knowledge there's no real way to kill a shadow reaper but you can temporarily get rid of them.”

Taking my staff I side swing it and quickly glide it through the reaper's neck, effectively dismissing it. “Easy but you must remember to hit them directly at their neck or they won’t go away like that.” I say as I come to a complete stop in front of all the warriors. “Who wants to go first?”

•••

After all the soldiers have had a chance to both disperse and spar with a shadow reaper, with almost little to no critique, they were naturals. I sit on the training mats alone, Rictus cleaning up the area and putting the weapons back where they belong on the racks. I use my staff to get up from the ground before looking over towards him. “Spar with me?” I ask.

He laughs and doesn’t turn around to face me as he speaks. “No thank you. The General would kill me if I layed a land on you,” he says matter of factly.

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Well tell your General, that I don’t need her protection…”

“You just did.” 

“Did wha-“

“I see you’ve found the energy to train,” I hear a voice say from behind me. “And an attitude.”  I turn around and see the General standing at the entrance to the training arena.

I look her up and down noting her casual lounge wear, a stark contrast to her armor that she wore when I last saw her. I hum in response. “Is that a problem?” I ask her defensively.

She chuckles lowly. “Is it? Lest I remind you it is I who determines if you live or die.” 

I roll my tongue on the inside of my cheek. “I hate you, I really do,” I say as I go to exit the arena. When I go to pass by her, she grabs my arm firmly but not enough to hurt.

“How have you been sleeping, little one?” I freeze at her words, keeping my eyes forward. “That’s what I thought. Try talking to me again when you finally get some sleep,” she says before releasing my arm roughly. As I make my way out of the room I shove my shoulder against her.

I walk down the gilded corridor. Regal portraits line the walls as I make my way back to my room. The sun is low on the horizon as I close the door to my room. Despite everything, Ambessa has been very generous with my accommodations and I can applaud that. I make my way to the bathroom and turn on the shower before stripping out of my clothes. I close my eyes as the water flows over me, having it turned to the hottest setting. 

I start thinking to myself of what I would be doing if I were back home and I cringe at the idea. Since I’ve arrived here I haven’t been able to maintain my regular routine, even my brother's routine beatings have been replaced by me standing in this shower with burning water just to feel something. When the skin of my arm starts to hurt to the touch, I switch off the water and dry myself off. 

I throw on a tank top and some loose pants before climbing into bed for yet another sleepless night.

•••

I wake up frantically looking around as I scoot back until my back hits the headboard. My breathing is out of control and I hear screaming and only realize it’s me when someone suddenly enters my room. 

“Ma’am are you-“ 

“Get out!” I yell. No one can see you like this, they’ll think your weak.

“We can help you, just tell us what you need,” the lady, part of the night shift, says.

“I said GET OUT.” I reach my hand over to the nightstand and grab the vase before throwing it towards the door. 

The lady quickly shuts the door and the vase shatters as it makes contact with the door. I tuck my knees to my chest and sob, deep, guttural, sobs. I rock myself back and forth as images of my dream come surfacing back. Wire cords lashing against my back. The smell of blood, the taste of my own tears, the silence I had to keep to stay out of more pain.

When morning comes I don’t move. The lady that brings my meals comes and goes, the food going untouched the whole day. As night falls again I finally decide to leave my room. Grabbing my thin shawl from a chair I quietly make my way out of my room. I roamed the hallways for what seems like forever before finally finding where I wanted to be, the kitchen. 

I grabbed a pot and began making my favorite dish growing up that my mom used to make for me. As I cook I let my shawl fall to rest at my elbows as my tense shoulders relax. When the food is almost done I give it a quick taste before covering it and letting it simmer for a while longer. 

“Well this is a sight to see.” I hear from behind me. I turn around and lean back against the counter and see Ambessa leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with a small smirk on her face. I roll my eyes and say nothing. 

“Quiet game again?” She presses with a sigh. “You weren’t at your training today. And while I have been courteous in giving you time to adjust, I won’t tolerate laziness and insolence.”

Her gaze on me causes me to squirm and I readjust my shawl to cover the expanse of my back. This doesn’t go unnoticed by her. “I really must say though, your stubbornness is getting… frustrating.”

I chuckle at this. “Well I grew up knowing that stubbornness can be a survival tactic and I was not in the right headspace today, so forgive me if I needed a moment to myself,” I say as I look at her, really look at her. For the first time since I’ve met her, in the moonlit kitchen, I notice her eyes aren’t just brown but almost hazel. How her scars actually add to the uniqueness of her face. Makes me wonder how she got those scars.

I hear her let out a laugh across from me and I'm snapped out of my thoughts. I said that out loud. I feel my face grow warm but if she notices, she doesn’t comment on it.

“If I tell you one of mine, will you tell me one of yours?” She asks.

I already know which one of mine she’s going to ask about but I still proceed. “Fine.” I agree.

She hums in surprise. “Which one do you want to know about?” I look over her exposed skin and my eyes land on a scar near her neck. 

“The one on your neck,” I say softly.

“When I was younger I was challenged for my throne. Big burly man, looked more like a were-person than a man really.” I let out a chuckle at this and her eyes meet mine for a split second before I drop my gaze to the floor. She continues. “Nearly took my head off. Had me pinned to the floor with this big axe against my throat, started cutting in. But clearly I won that fight as I’m still here,” she says.

I nod at this and huff. “Which one do you want to know about?” I ask.

Her eyes scan me up and down as she moves further into the kitchen, not coming incredibly close to me but closer than before, the kitchen island separating us. She comes forward and leans her hands on the counter. “The one on your back.”

I sigh and close my eyes for a minute to gain some composure. “When I was 10, I forgot what it was exactly I did, probably something normal for a child to do, I got in trouble. And my father being the man he is, had to make an example out of me. Since I was a legionnaire I was always in the public eye and so when I got in trouble my father wanted to show our people that this behavior wouldn’t be tolerated. Not even by his own daughter.” Lifting my gaze off the kitchen floor I spare a glance at Ambessa. Her expression conveys nothing about how she’s feeling, but its clear she's hanging on to every word I speak.

I turn my back to her, go back to stirring my food, and start talking again. “He dragged me to the town square, tied my hands to this big pole at the center, and whipped me in front of everyone. All to prove a point.” I say as calmly as I can without my voice shaking. “Twenty lashes across my back, my shirt split open by the third. I can still remember the smell of my own blood, how much of it there was…”

Somehow without me hearing her Ambessa had come up behind me. I didn't realize my hands were shaking until her much bigger ones reached around me and took the wooden spoon out of my hands and placed it down on the counter. I chuckle lightly as I brace my hands against the counter in front of me.

“You know the funny part is after he was finished and I was nearly about to pass out, he told me it was for my own good. That it was my fault…” I say quietly. I feel Ambessa gently place her hand on my upper bicep and I shrug her touch off. “Don’t touch me, I don’t need you pity.” I say as I turn off the stove and move away from her, going to get a bowl. 

“From these few interactions that we have had I’ve learned a lot about you,” she says matter of factly.

“I tell you one insignificant part of my life and you think you know me…” I open the cabinet and reach for a bowl. Silently I make the decision to grab two.

“But it isn’t insignificant, is it? Not to you anyway. You think about that moment a lot. Probably flipping it over and over in your mind trying to decide for yourself if you deserved it or not. Am I close?” She challenges as she leans back against the kitchen island.

“Not even close.” I pour the soup into the two bowls.

She hums in acknowledgment. “I doubt that. It can also correlate to your adverse reactions to physical touch. I have two theories for this one: it’s either you just really hate me or-“ she takes the bowl out of my hand before spinning me around to face her. “You just won’t allow yourself to feel something other than pain.”

“The first option,” I respond as I roll my eyes and brace my hands on the counter behind me.

She lets out a laugh at this. “Oh really, because…” she trails off as she leans in close to me. So impossibly close, closer than anyone’s been in a long time. “I think it’s the second.” Her lips nearly brush against the shell on my ear as she speaks to me. 

Her hand finds my hand and I flinch from the contact, but she presses on. She runs the pads of her fingers up my arm slowly, tentatively like she’s waiting for me to push her away. Her hand comes up and gently cups my jaw. She looks at me with indifference but her eyes are asking a silent question, I nod my head ever so slightly. 

She leans back in and starts to slowly trail feather-like kisses from my jaw to my neck. My eyes flutter shut as I press my lips together. She uses her hand on my jaw to tilt my head to give herself more access. The hand not on my jaw finds its way to my waist as she presses me closer to her. To steady myself I hesitantly place my hands on her chest, her muscles tensing and relaxing under my touch. 

When she gently nips as a spot right below my ear I let out a small whimper. I feel her chuckle against my skin. “Breathe, child.”

Her words are what snap me out of my stupor. Using my hands that are on her chest, I push her back roughly. “You let that go on far longer than I thought you would,” she says with that smug ass smirk on her face.

I regain my breathing, rolling my tongue on the inside of my cheek. “Do that again and I’ll kill you,” I hissed as I grabbed the two bowls of soup, shoving one in her hands before putting distance between the two of us. “Eat the soup don’t eat the soup, I don’t fucking care. Leave me alone.”                 

[v4mp-re]

ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ

SUMMARY: Mattheo Riddle still wants to be your best friend, your shoulder to cry on, regardless of what happened during your relationship.

ᴛʀᴏᴘᴇ: ex! Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

T.W: Angst, implication of drinking, mentions of losing feelings for the other party, unknowing of how to move on, slight implication of cutting people out, lack of communication between two parties, mentions smoking.

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ: @cafekitsune

Things were bound to be different.

It was something Mattheo was aware of from the moment you two crossed the threshold between just friends and lovers, yet somehow, he never anticipated that the breakup would destroy so many aspects of your relationship.

Ever since first year, the two of you were inseparable, almost as if you were conjoined at the hip. You two did everything together, from cheating off each others' potions test to both staying at Hogwarts over the holidays in fear of not having the other. For a moment, it seemed like nothing could ever come between the two of you —except yourselves. And that was exactly what had happened.

What had started off as drunken night back in 5th year — the raging green lights emitting from the party — turned into a little more than just rushed confessions and into a year long relationship. Maybe you were better off as friends.

After a few months of dating, you found yourself losing feelings for the curly haired brunette. It was something you stumbled upon when you woke up one morning and found yourself looking at the sleeping boy's figure with a lingering doubt on your mind.

Mattheo didn't give you any problems, and when he did, they were all minor issues that a flick of the wand could fix. No, he didn't do anything wrong, so why was it that the once present butterflies now disappeared? You never understood why all of a sudden, his jokes weren't as funny as how they used to be, his touches not as you remembered. The spark for you in his eyes however, remained constant with every breath he took.

Mattheo found you to be extraordinary, like an angel sent by the heavens above whilst he was a sinner, a devil, undeserving of the fruit that was your love. So no, it didn't surprise him when you broke up with him a few days after your one year anniversary. "I just think we should stay friends." Your excuse lingered in the air, a statement Mattheo never could grasp.

And now it's been months since the break up.

Your tradition to remain at Hogwarts over breaks were broken, something he only ever discovered when he knocked on the door of your dorm room, only for your roommate to inform him of your departure the night before.

How selfish of him, he thought, for taking you away from your family every year.

Mattheo was never surprised though, he knew you would find things awkward and feel guilty for how you ended things with him. He could read you like a book, even when you weren't around anymore.

Final year was hard for him. You had been there with him at the beginning of each term, always sitting in the same compartment carriage beside him, as you would go on about what you were excited for — whether about the classes or simply eager to be able to go to Hogsmeade with him again.

This year, he was met with the bickering of his best mates instead of your familiar presence. Their plans seemingly dull and repetitive in comparison to yours.

He hadn't heard from you throughout the break, his freshly bought quills and parchments gone to waste waiting for your responses, ones that never arrived. Excusing himself, he got out of the compartment carriage. He never was one to wonder the hallways of The Hogwarts Express but that was because he had everything he could ever want in the carriage with him, you.

With your absence, he could only wonder if you got on the train in time. He roams the cramped hallway, ever so slightly glancing into the carriages as he walks, hoping to spot even a glimpse of you.

He does, though the sight wasn't necessarily a welcoming one. There you were, dressed in the cloak Mattheo would always find randomly tossed on your dorm room floor, everything about you was exactly how he remembered it. Yet there you sat, in the carriage surrounded by Gryffindors, your head resting on one of the Weasley twins — one Mattheo couldn't bother remembering.

And it was then that Mattheo fear he had lost you. Your eyes glance to the door, immediately catching his and for a moment there, you swore you saw the tears welling up in his eyes —the tears he refused to let fall. Your smile fades a little and Mattheo notices it almost instantly. He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve, swallowing hard before he walks off.

Your eyes linger on the door a little longer in hopes of his return, he never did.

The two coexisted from then onwards, both acting as if the other wasn't their entire life line — as though you hadn’t seen a forever in his eyes, and as though he wouldn’t rather die than lose you from his life.

Their interactions were always kept to a minimum — a simple nod here, a smile there, but nothing more than that.

That was until the night of the Slytherin party. The quidditch match finals was earlier that day — ending with Slytherin absolutely crushing Gryffindor — which Draco took as an excuse to throw the biggest party Hogwarts has ever seen. It was your standard Slytherin rave, the pulsing of green lights, the smell of alcohol, the obnoxiously loud playing music, everything keeping up to standard in it's own way. Mattheo was situated on the couch of the common room, the cool leather green surface doing nothing to ease the urge of wanting a smoke break.

He excuses himself before exiting the common room and going to the only place he knew to go, the Astronomy Tower.

Mattheo pulls out a cigarette, bringing the familiar bud to his lips before pulling out a lighter to light said object. He's overlooking the edge of the tower, wallowing in the cold night air when the sound of sobs draw his attention.

Normally he would chase whoever it was out, but it was when he turned around to face the individual that he realised it was you, though not the you he remembered.

You sat tucked away in the corner of the tower, your body curled tightly as your sobs echoed softly around you. The sight itself enough for Mattheo to discard his cigarette, stepping on the bud before quickly moving towards you. He slowly moves to crouch in front of you, careful not to scare you as if the slightest movements would make you run.

"Can I just be left alone?" Your voice shaky with every word yet it's purpose was clear.

Mattheo's heart ached.

"What's wrong?" He spoke, his voice barely even a whisper as he stayed still, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you would open up to him like you once did.

His voice was like a homing signal for you, one you didn't know how much you missed until now. You slowly lifted your head, wanting to make sure that he was there and not just something you imagined. Your tear-streaked face met his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. His eyes, usually so guarded and sharp, were soft now, full of worry and something else—something that looked a lot like affection.

"You’re really here," you whispered, your voice trembling as if the weight of your emotions was too much to bear. The guilt of leaving him coupled with the comfort that came with his presence was something overwhelming yet welcoming.

"Of course I am," he replied, his tone steady but low, as though afraid any sudden movement might shatter whatever fragile thread held the two of you together. "I’m not going anywhere."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers clutching the fabric of your cloak as you glanced down, unable to meet his gaze again. "I didn’t mean to hurt you," you said, your voice cracking under the weight of the truth. "I just—everything got so complicated, and I—I didn’t know how to fix it."

He was quiet for a moment, the silence stretching between you like a fragile bridge.

"I don’t even know why I’m here" you finally whispered, your voice breaking like shattered glass. "I just… I didn’t know where else to go."

When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Maybe you came here because you knew I’d never turn you away," he said softly. Your eyes flickered to his, seeing the emotion hidden behind them. What was normally his calculative gaze, now shown a side of vulnerability to it — one you had almost forgotten in the time apart. "I pushed you away, Mattheo. I hurt you. I ruined everything."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his unruly curls. "Yeah, you did," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you sit here and drown in whatever’s tearing you apart. Not when I can see it’s killing you."

His words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, the dam broke. The sobs you’d been holding back spilled out, shaking your whole body. Mattheo moved closer, closing the gap between you, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently placed it on your shoulder.

"You don’t have to say anything," he whispered, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. "Just let me be here for you. That’s all I’m asking."

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him, your head resting against his chest as your tears soaked into his shirt. His arms wrapped around you, strong and reassuring, as though he were trying to hold together the pieces of you that had shattered.

And for the first time in a while, you let him.

[callme-holly]

okay do this with whatever boy(s) you want but like what abt them x reader who is just like the happiest person ever. they havent lived the prettiest life, its clear, but theyre still so happy, they just find a way to love everything. the way theyre always laughing, the way they point out simple things with just beaming joy. theyll see a random bird and start ranting about how cool it would be to be able to fly like that, how they love birds and how beautiful they are. they see bugs and talk about how pretty they are even if theyre a bit scared of it. they gush about how the grass feels cool at night and the way it gives them goosebumps all with a smile of giddiness at the dark. theres nothing they dont love, and they make sure he see the beauty in everything too, slowly but surely.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚/𝐧 : im finally on christmas break y'all!! i've still got quite a lot of requests to get through, but im scatty as hell so please bear with me

Darry Curtis:

Your positive energy is something Darry craves in his life. He’s been through more than anyone should ever have to face, and when he met you, you were like a breath of fresh air. He knows your life hasn’t always been perfect, but neither has his, and you two balance each other out.  After a long day of work, all he wants is to sit on the couch with you curled up beside him, rambling about all the little things in your day that have made you happy. He loves the sound of your laugh, your smile, and the way you move your hands when you talk. He starts to notice things he might not have noticed before and learns to slow down a little and appreciate life as it comes. 

Sodapop Curtis:

You and Soda are a match made in heaven. You’re both such happy, positive people, despite everything you’ve both gone through, and people can't help but envy you both.  The two of you will sit together on the porch and talk for hours about your day, no matter how good or bad it may have been, pointing out all the little things you loved about it. Soda makes it his sole challenge to make you laugh all the time; he just loves seeing you smile. You both see the world from the same point of view, and no matter what it throws at you, you both learn to love every little thing. 

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony finds your happiness both relieving and fascinating. We all know he can get a little down sometimes, and having someone like you around to pick him back up is something he needs.  Watching the sunsets together is a key part of y'all's routine; you always take the time out of your days to sit together and watch all the colours as they blend into one, appreciating the beauty of nature. Pony will read poems to you when you’re both alone in the house, and you’ll always make an effort to point out the tiny little details, laughing about them and smiling throughout. 

Johnny Cade:

Johnny’s homelife is pretty awful, as we all know, so having someone like you around who is always so upbeat is something he desperately needs. He loves listening to you ramble, and he’ll just nod along as you tell him about all the wonderful little things you saw on your walk. He can’t help but smile whenever you do; he laughs when you laugh. You really help to brighten up his life, and you help him see things a little more positively, even if it’s just for a little while. 

Dallas Winston:

Your positivity probably annoys Dally a little. It’s not that he wants to rain on your parade; it’s just that he can't see what's so good about the world that you need to constantly be talking about it. He always tries to make a snarky comment whenever you start gushing over something small, but the moment he sees your smile, he forgets whatever it is he was going to say. Something about your outlook on life confuses and intrigues him, and he slowly starts to realise it’s not all bad.  He’s not the type to gush about it, but sometimes you’ll catch the subtle things he does to show his appreciation for you: the way his smirk softens when you laugh, the way he pulls you closer when you ramble. 

Steve Randle:

Steve is drawn to your energy like a moth to a flame. He’s home life isn’t grand either, and it amazes him how you manage to find so much good in the tiniest things. He teases you for it, but he loves the way your eyes light up at the simplest things, and he finds himself going out of his way to make you laugh or smile. On his lunch break, he’ll hold you close while you tell him about all the things you’d seen on your way over, and he’ll just chuckle and kiss you softly. Your positive perspective is something he needs desperately, and he finds that time seems to slow down whenever you’re together. 

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two thrives off of your happiness and always manages to return it with the same energy. He loves how you can see the silver lining in almost any situation, and he always finds himself joining in with you as you marvel at the little things in life. Your laugh has him cracking up, and if you’re smiling, so is he. He firmly believes that you light up any room you walk into, and he just helps to keep that light shining bright.  While he’s probably the most positive one of the gang, he’d never taken the time to slow down and appreciate the little things until he met you, and now thats he’s got you, he can’t seem to stop.

[rheasforum]

Winter’s Heart

overview: A quest for a ruling partner in Winterfell brings an emotional turning point

warning: Emotional confrontation, self-doubt, no use of y/n

a/n: one out of many discarded stories on my notes.

· · ────── · · ·𖥸· · · ───────── ·

Cregan Stark paced the halls of Winterfell, his temper simmering beneath his calm exterior. For days now, Alysarria had evaded him, turning away whenever the subject of their future arose. The lords of the North were insistent—Cregan needed a wife, someone strong to rule at his side.

He knew who that should be. He had known for years.

Alysarria, a healer of House Mormont, beloved by the people, had been by his side through thick and thin. She had mended broken bones and soothed the wounded, but when it came to his heart, she seemed blind to what lay between them.

Tonight, that would end.

He found her in the Great Hall, attending to a villager with a minor wound. As soon as her work was done, he strode over, his presence commanding. "Alysarria," he said, voice firm. "A word."

She looked up, hesitation flickering in her eyes. "Cregan—"

"Now," he cut her off, leaving no room for argument. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked toward the courtyard. Reluctantly, she followed.

The air outside was biting, the chill of winter wrapping around them like a shroud. The stars above were cold and distant, much like the silence between them. Finally, Cregan turned to face her, his eyes burning with intensity.

“I am done with this game,” he began, his voice low and full of frustration. “Every time I speak of us, you flee. Why?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off again, his gaze hard. “I need to know why, Alysarria. Do you take me as a fool? That I do not see what is plain as day?”

Her heart pounded in her chest, fingers curling tightly around the edges of her cloak. “You know what is expected of you, Cregan,” she replied, her voice trembling. “Winterfell requires a strong Lady—someone who can rule with you, someone who can lead in times of war. I am but a healer.”

His eyes narrowed. “You think that makes you less worthy?”

“I know it does,” she countered, stepping back. “You need someone who can bear the weight of Winterfell. Someone who can fight beside you in the cold, in the dark. I am not strong enough for that, Cregan. You deserve more.”

Cregan’s expression darkened, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And what of your strength, woman? Do you not see it? The people of Winterfell trust you. They look to you for healing, for care, for guidance. Do you think that counts for nothing?”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “That is not the same, Cregan. I mend bones, I tend to the sick—I do not lead armies. I do not sit in council chambers deciding the fates of men. You need a woman who can stand tall beside you, who can face down enemies and wield the Stark name with authority. I am not that person.”

“You speak as though you know my mind better than I do,” he growled, frustration clear in his tone. “Do you truly think I care for lords and councils? That I need a warrior at my side?”

“I think you need more than I can give!” she cried, her voice breaking. “You are a Stark. You were born to lead, to rule, and I—” Her breath hitched, the weight of her own words crushing her. “I am not enough.”

Cregan’s jaw clenched, his eyes fierce with emotion. “You know nothing,” he hissed, stepping forward, his towering presence making her feel small. “You speak of strength and worth as though they are measured in battle or in council chambers. But it is you who keeps this place alive, Alysarria. You, who the people turn to in their darkest moments. The heart of Winterfell beats because of you.”

Her tears flowed freely now, the weight of his words too much to bear. “Cregan, I… I cannot be what you need.”

He stepped closer, his breath warm against the icy night air. “Do you truly believe I would ask this of you if I thought you lacking?”

She shook her head, unable to speak, her vision blurred with tears. “I fear I will fail you. I fear Winterfell will fall, and it will be my fault.”

Cregan’s hand grasped her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his gaze. His expression softened, the fierceness in his eyes replaced by something deeper, something more tender. “You will not fail. You have more strength than you know, Alysarria. And you will not face any of it alone. Not while I live.”

His words broke something inside her, the walls she had built around her heart crumbling. A sob escaped her lips, and she turned away, covering her face with her hands.

“I love you, Alysarria,” Cregan whispered, his voice raw. “And I need you by my side, not as a symbol of power, not as some shield to bear the Stark name, but as the woman who has stood by me my whole life. The woman who I trust above all others. You are enough. You always have been.”

She shook her head, still overcome with doubt. “But what if I am not? What if—”

“I will hear no more of this,” he interrupted, his hand moving to cup her face, his thumb wiping away her tears. “You are enough. You are everything.”

The silence between them was thick with emotion, the cold air swirling around them both as if waiting for her response. Slowly, she looked up at him, her tears subsiding. “Cregan…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I am afraid.”

“So am I,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “But I would rather face that fear with you than without you.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in days, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

With a trembling breath, she nodded. “I… I will marry you.”

Relief washed over his face, and before she could say another word, his lips were on hers, a kiss filled with all the love, the hope, the fear that had been building for so long.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “Together, we will face whatever comes,” he whispered. “Winterfell will stand, because we will stand together.”

And in that moment, beneath the cold Northern sky, Alysarria knew that Cregan Stark was her future.

And she was his.

[maidragoste]

VI. Fury

Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader (unrequited love), Alicent Hightower x Velaryon!Reader, Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader

Series masterlist

Part 6 of this

I still can't believe writing more than 5000 words, there were times when I thought this would never come to light and it frustrated me so please give it a lot of love and let me know what you think of this chapter 🥰💖💖

As always comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading 💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

When the Queen was informed that Harwin had been seen leaving your chambers in the middle of the night she felt her heart skip a beat. She was afraid that for some reason you had decided to forgive your husband for his indiscretions with the princess and give your marriage another chance.

When it was time for lunch that Alicent, Larys, and you had, there was no need for the Queen or Larys to ask you about your husband's sudden visit because you told them yourself. Harwin offered to help the twins put to sleep and you accepted because you were tired Alicent instantly offered to hire more maidens to take care of the children at night so you could rest but you refused saying that you didn't want other women to take care of your children. While you were saying that Alicent couldn't help but notice that you were looking askance at Larys as if you were expecting a reaction from him but she thought it must have been her imagination because when Larys changed the subject you didn't seem disappointed or upset. Unfortunately, the Queen's worries did not disappear throughout the meal so when you left to go spend time with your sister and mother she shared them with Larys.

"I'm afraid that he will once again occupy a place in her heart," the woman admitted, clasping her hands under the table. "What happens if he convinces her to give him another chance? What if she leaves us?" As she spoke, she took off part of the cuticle of the thumb. If her father was watching her he would be scolding her. She knew it was a horrible habit but the anxiety she felt at the thought of losing you was too great. Alicent wouldn't know how to live alone as your friend again, not now that she had tasted what true love was. No one cared about her like you do.

"You heard her, she only let him stay because of the children" the man reminded her as he poured them both more wine "She will never forgive him" he declared and the Queen was envious of his trust. Larys must have noticed that her concern was great because she added "Besides, she will never leave us, especially you. She always seems to want to kill Criston Cole for daring to breathe the same air as you."

Alicent hurriedly brought the wine glass closer to her mouth to hide her smile. Larys' statement had to upset her, after all, Criston Cole is one of the few people she trusts and she should be upset that you want to hurt him, but instead, she managed to calm her down a little.

But Alicent's worries soon grew worse as the days went by because Harwin kept coming to your chambers and the worst thing was that now the two of you with the twins were walking around the castle together. At first, Larys wasn't worried that Harwin would spend time in your chambers after all you made it clear that you were only using him to babysit the twins. But now Larys felt sick every time he saw the four of them together at court. They seemed like a happy family. Aethan shouldn't look so comfortable tied against Harwin's chest with one of the special clothes your mother had ordered for you from Essos, and you shouldn't look so calm when Harwin's hand is on your back while you hold Alyn. You should move away every time his brother kisses your forehead but you don't. You're never the one to initiate the physical contact but Larys still doesn't like it, he's not sure if you're really not pulling away because you don't want to make a scene or because you're bonding with Harwin now that he's spending so much time in your chambers.

One day Larys reaches his limit. You, Alicent, and Larys are eating together again but the man instead of joining the conversation you two are having is too busy thinking about the image of Harwin with his hand on your back again while you were both talking to some Lord and how later his brother left the conversation but not without kissing you on the cheek before leaving.

"Why do you let Harwin spend so much time with you?" he suddenly interrupts your conversation with Alicent. She looks at him surprised but at the same time seems grateful for him to dare to question your closeness with Harwin since she would never do it for fear of upsetting you.

"I told you he's just helping me with the twins," you replied, frowning at his rude interruption.

"You shouldn't be depending so much on Harwin to take care of your own children."

"Larys" Alicent's intention was a reprimand but he could detect the nerves in her voice and her eyes.

Larys knew he said the wrong thing when he saw how your eyes seemed to spark and how you abruptly dropped the cutlery.

"Our" you corrected him. "And maybe I wouldn't be depending on Harwin so much if you took charge" you spat every word like it was poison.

"We should take a moment of silence before saying something that we regret," the queen proposed in an attempt to calm the waters as she tried to take your hand but you pushed her away and barely looked at her.

"It's not fair. We both knew that when you got pregnant the child couldn't know the truth" Larys said, appearing calm, not wanting to let you see that your words bothered him.

"Of course, they won't grow up knowing the truth but you're not even trying to help me" you crossed your arms. "Even Daemon and Rhaenyra seem more interested in them than you," the bitterness in your voice was clear.

And the only reason for that was because they both wanted to fuck you but Larys wouldn't tell you that because it would only make your anger worse so instead he told you the reason for his distance.

"I stay away to avoid making people suspicious"

Not wanting the court to suspect him of being the father of your children was not the only reason for his distance. The truth is that Larys had no idea what to do with the twins. He saw the immense love you had for children. Not just you, your parents and your siblings too. Everyone seemed to love Alyn and Aethan from the minute they saw them but he didn't. Of course, he was worried about their safety the second you announced to Harwin and Lyonel that he was the father. He didn't want anything bad to happen to them but he wouldn't say that he loves them and he's sure they don't either, especially Aethan because the few times he carried them, they became instantly agitated and cried demanding to come back to you. Their crying made his head hurt and he's sure it made your head hurt too so he stayed away thinking it would save both of you the stress of hearing the children scream.

"People think you're their fucking uncle, no one will suspect that you spend time together. You're family." It was obvious that you were dissatisfied with his defense by the exasperation in your voice. "And don't tell me that you're afraid that someone will realize the truth because Aethan has the same eye color as you because months went by and no one said anything. So stop being paranoid and spend time with your children" You got up from the table "I'm sorry, my queen, but I lost my appetite and I have to continue with my duties"

Neither Alicent nor Larys had any doubt that you were angry but you confirmed it when you left without even giving them both a measly kiss goodbye.

"You have to fix it," Alicent ordered, looking at him furiously. "If we lose her because of you..."

"That's not going to happen," the man interrupted, throwing his napkin at the table angrily. "I'll fix it."

Of course, after that argument, Larys couldn't allow you to get even closer to Harwin so that same afternoon he sent you a message through one of your maids. He asked you not to allow his brother to come to your chambers tonight because he was thinking of coming to see you. In the middle of the night, Larys entered through the secret passage that had your chambers hidden behind one of the paintings. A snort left your mouth when you saw him appear with a small bouquet.

"If you think I'll forgive you because you brought me flowers, you're wrong," you warned him but your anger shouldn't have been so great because you didn't leave his side when he sat next to you on the bed, in the middle were the twins lying awake. Face up they seemed entertained trying to turn around on their own. Larys was relieved that neither of them burst into tears when they saw it.

"I'm not stupid to think that, I know your character.," he said and extended the bouquet to you waiting for you to take it, you looked at it doubting whether to take it or not "It see like someone wanted it more than you" he commented when you saw Alyn stretch out her small hand as if he wanted to touch one of the flowers. "Do you mind sharing?" you shook your head and couldn't help but smile when you saw him remove a flower from the bouquet to give it to Alyn. You hurriedly pulled another flower from the bouquet and gave it to Aethan before he got jealous. "I will get better at this parenting thing. I will come at night and help you take care of them" he wanted to see your reaction but his attention went to Aethan when he saw him put one of the petals in his mouth so he moved the flower away from the baby making him squeal. Not wanting Aethan to start crying, he gave him the flower again but he had to take it away because he put the petal in his mouth again.

"Why does he want to eat it?"

You laughed as you saw the frustration on Larys's face because every time he gave the flower to Aethan he kept wanting to eat it and then squealed when Larys pushed the flower away. But he wasn't a squealer like when he was about to throw a tantrum, it was one of the ones he did when he played with you or your brothers.

Alyn must have also thought his father was making a funny face because he joined in with your laughter.

"I'm sure that at first the color of the flower caught his attention, but now he just thinks that he's playing with you," you reassure him. "Larys, I want actions, not just empty words. I want you to be there for us," you asked, returning to what your lover had said before.

And Larys showed that he was serious. He started coming to your chambers in the middle of the night to help you with the children. You noticed that at first, he seemed to struggle when they cried but after you taught him that skin-to-skin contact helped calm them down and told him that talking to babies helped too, Larys seemed to handle it well, although the first few times you had to stop yourself from laughing at how uncomfortable and lost the man looked because he had no idea what to talk to babies about. You had to tell him to stop thinking about it so much and just talk. Larys didn't make silly voices like Laena, Laenor, or Harwin but Alyn didn't seem to mind because he happily responded to his father with babbling. It didn't take long for Aethan to join in as well because she didn't want to be left out of the "talk."

You will never forget Larys' smile when for the first time he was greeted by Alyn's excited screams as soon as he saw his father enter your chambers. You feel happy with all this development, not only that but Larys also starts to join you during the day, of course not every day, but sometimes he happens once at the nursery with you or they meet by "chance" with you in the gardens and show the twins the flowers together. Even Princess Helaena joins you a couple of times but she soon loses interest in the flowers and entertains herself with the bugs she finds on the ground. At those times Larys and you have to make sure the twins don't try to put any insects in their mouths.

Everything seems to be fine again...Except for Harwin, who feels displaced when you no longer allow him to spend the nights in your chambers and starts seeing you and Larys together during the day. Harwin knows that he should be happy with the fact that you no longer seem to hate him and with the rapprochement that the two of you had during the time that he helped you with the twins. You don't seem angry when you meet him at nursery, nor do you reject him when during the day he insists on spending time with you and the twins. You don't even yell at him when he proposes that Jacaerys join the four of you. He should settle for that but he can't. He just wants to get your love back.

You should not have been surprised when one of your maids came to inform you that your husband was in the princess's chambers. You didn't expect that now that you could stand his presence and have the occasional civil conversation with him, he would magically forget about Rhaenyra. You weren't stupid, you knew he was still seeing her but you hoped he would at least have a little respect for you. You couldn't believe he dared to be in Rhaenyra's chambers while she gave birth. People were already talking about you three but this would only make it worse. You didn't think they could dare to humiliate you any further, at least at the birth of Jacaerys, Harwin hadn't dared to do this.

Fury took over your body. You ignored your maid's calls as you strode out of your chambers.

You felt the blood in your body heat up, noticing that you were getting closer to your destination. You couldn't stop thinking about your hands around Harwin's neck. You wanted to kill him. But you couldn't do it. If you kill your husband you will not go unpunished and you will suffer some punishment, your death, or your exile, and the last thing you want is to leave Alicent and Larys. So you'd have to settle for making a scene.

If Rhaenyra and Harwin wanted attention then you would make a damn spectacle. Tomorrow there wouldn't be a single person who wouldn't talk about you three.

When you finally reached your destination you abruptly opened the doors making as much noise as possible. You entered, leaving the doors open with the intention that anyone who passed by could hear you. You found Rhaenyra lying on her bed with Harwin kneeling next to her and holding her hand.

All eyes were on you, Laenor looking at you with fear, the midwives tensed while the princess and your husband looked at you with pure surprise. For a moment Rhaenyra thought that you would be at her side and accompany her while she gave birth.

“I tried to get him away from her,” Laenor said quickly, from the corner, seeing the fury in your eyes not wanting to be on the receiving end of it. Not when he had struggled to obtain your forgiveness.

You ignored your brother and headed straight for Harwin. One of Rhaenyra's handmaidens thought you would try to hurt the princess so she tried to stop you by standing in front of you. You barely bothered to look at her before pushing her in Laenor's direction. Your brother, as you expected, caught her before she could fall to the floor. The screams of the other maids irritated you even more. You hadn't even put all your strength into the push, of course, they had to be just as dramatic as Rhaenyra.

“What are you doing here?” with every second that Harwin passed in silence you felt your fury grow even more, the worst thing was that he didn't seem to have any intention of separating himself from the princess because he was still holding her hand. “Why does a sworn shield need to be here? “You questioned but again you didn't get any response causing you to lose what little control you had “You can't protect her from the birthing bed, you idiot! You shouldn't be here! Do you understand how humiliating it is for me, for my children, that you are here?!” As you spoke, you raised your voice more and more to the point that you ended up shouting, you were sure that at least your complaint had been heard by anyone who was there. will be found in the hallways. You were sure that from today the court would be sure that Harwin was the father of Rhaenyra's children.

You saw Rhaenyra flinch, you didn't know if it was because of your screams or because she was having a contraction. You didn't care anyway, she did this to herself you thought. If she were smarter she would not have gotten pregnant by your husband again and much less would she have allowed him to accompany her during her birth.

“She needs me,” said Harwin, looking at you with pleading eyes, hoping you would understand, you should, you know Rhaenyra and you know that she is afraid of childbirth after everything her mother suffered.

“Harwin, we're leaving,” you demanded.

Harwin loves you but he loves Rhaenyra too so he couldn't leave her alone right now, not when she knew she was scared and needed him.

“No,” he said painfully, knowing that the little process he had done between the two of you would be forgotten. Now you would get angry but then he would work hard to win you over again.

Your dragon blood or your Baratheon blood had to have taken over your body because suddenly your hands were on your husband's scalp. Years ago you had caressed his curls tenderly but now you found yourself pulling him with all your strength, if he wasn't willing to get out then you were willing to drag him. You would embarrass him in front of the maids and anyone in the hall.

Harwin quickly let go of Rhaenyra's hand to prevent you from ending up dragging her with him. The princess didn't know what to do as she watched in shock as Laenor grabbed you by the waist and tried to pull you away from Harwin, but you didn't give in, your hands seemed to be clinging to him. All Rhaenyra could do was shake her head as one of her handmaidens approached the door ready to call the guards and silence the rest. The last thing she wanted was to get you in trouble.

“Please, sister, let go. Please,” Laenor asked desperately. He feared that at any moment a guard would walk in and you would end up having an audience with the king for disturbing the princess in the middle of her birth and attacking her sworn shield. The worst thing is that he saw you capable in your state of the fury of telling Viserys to rot for pretending not to know what was happening right under his nose, how his grandson was a bastard: "It's not worth getting in trouble for them. Please release him. If the king and queen find out about this…

He stopped talking when he watched you loosen your grip on Harwin carelessly causing his head to hit the floor. Laenor couldn't help but grimace at the noise. He had to have pushed you away instantly because you once again grabbed Harwin by the hair, lifting his head and then slamming it back onto the floor. This time when you let go, Laenor took the opportunity to lift you up and left Rhaenyra's chambers with you on his shoulder while you shouted curses in Valyrian.

They hadn't even reached the end of the hallway when Laenor stopped, a few seconds passed before he put you down. But you understood his reaction when you saw his father standing in front of you. He was looking at you angrily and again you felt like you were a little girl getting into trouble running away from your babysitters. Laenor must have felt your anguish because he took your hand and intertwined your fingers like he used to do when you were children and you were both scolded, not only that but he put his body in front of yours.

"Did you expect me to stand by and do nothing while they humiliated me?" you questioned your father once he finished scolding you and Laenor. During all of Corlys's talk, your brother didn't let go of your hand and you loved him more than ever for it. He could have avoided witnessing this, he could have left you alone but he didn't. Your brother wasn't to blame for your attitude but he was still scolded for not being firm enough to stop you before making a scene. You were sure that if Laenor had excused himself, your father wouldn't have bothered to scold him later.

"You humiliated yourself," he declared. It didn't matter that he had been ranting for what felt like hours he was still angry.

His words were like a slap. Unconsciously you tried to make yourself smaller in your seat as you felt a lump begin to form in your throat. He is your father, he should be on your side, he should be furious with Rhaenyra and Harwin, not you. He should be shouting and defending your honor. But instead, he's yelling at you.

You remained silent without knowing how to respond, feeling small, pathetic, and humiliated under your father's gaze. Not being able to take it anymore you lowered your head looking at your lap. You didn't like feeling like this, you hated it.

You loved your mom. It was a silly and childish thought but if she were here you believed she would take your side. She may not agree with your actions but she would never make you feel this way.

"Tomorrow the whole court will be talking about how you lost your mind, entering the princess's rooms and beating your husband," your father said making you feel worse. You had wanted to make a scene to get people talking but you thought it would be to your benefit, you thought the court would side with the poor faithful wife but maybe your father was right, maybe in the end you would be the one who would end up badly. Perhaps Rhaenyra and Harwin would not be the ones to make the Velaryons the laughingstock of the court but you. The pain in your throat worsened at that thought. "What if this reaches the king's ears?"

"That will not happen, Father," you were surprised by the firmness in your brother's voice. "Despite the distance between my sister and Rhaenyra. The princess still has great esteem for her and does not want to get her into trouble with the king. If Viserys decided to act and punish my sister that would only encourage people to talk more about the true paternity of Rhaenyra's children" he said as he gave your hand a squeeze hoping to get you out of whatever was scheming in your head knowing that it wouldn't. It must have been nothing good."Besides, I doubt people will think my sister is crazy. "The court will side with her after all it is normal to see a woman hurt by her husband's cheating."

"A maester had to see Harwin," Corlys reminded them with a frown.

"An accident. One of the maids dropped hot water and the idiot slipped and hit his head. It's his fault for being in the delivery bed when he shouldn't be" You couldn't help but laugh at the easy lie your brother made up. You wouldn't be surprised if there were people who believed her. Laenor turned to look at you with a smile, feeling satisfied to see that you were settling back down normally in your chair instead of trying to hide. "The only thing my sister did was go yell at her stupid husband for daring to snub her like that."

Before Corlys could say what he thought about it there was a knock on the door. After your father gave permission to enter a maid reported that Rhaenyra had given birth to a second son named Lucerys and that the three of you could now go and meet him.

"Come on Laenor, we have to meet the future lord of Driftmark," the Lord said once the maid left.

The fury you felt when you heard those words made you forget any feeling of smallness that your father caused you. You could allow your father many things but not this. You weren't going to stay silent while he took away your son's birthright and gave it to Rhaenyra's bastard. You knew that your father was an ambitious man and wanted to go down in history—that's why he had pushed you to spend time with Viserys as soon as Queen Aemma died and when you didn't become queen he made Laenor marry Rhaenyra even though he knew his preferences—but you never thought he would be able to deliver the legacy of your ancestors as if nothing had happened. It was insulting. This was outrageous.

When you least expected it, your father always found a new way to disappoint you.

"You can't be serious," you said, standing up abruptly from your chair while resting your hands on the desk.

"Please don't start again," your father said as if he was treating you like a tantrum child making your fury only grow even more. You could feel your blood heat up.

"He can't be Driftmark's heir," you said, emphasizing each word to get it into his head.

"He is the son of Laenor. It is his birthright"

"He is my son in name only," Laenor reminded him. He loved Jacaerys and was sure he would soon love Lucerys too, but he still knew he couldn't give any of them Driftmark. It would be an insult to Laena, to you, to his uncles and cousins.

“And why is that?” Corlys accused him. He didn't need to say any more words, the three of them knew that he blamed the lack of legitimate children on Laenor's preferences. You would think that after years your father would have accepted it by now.

“Driftmark belongs to Aethan,” you said, watching as Laenor clenched her hands into fists clearly frustrated, putting her attention back on you “He was born before Lucerys, it is his birthright” You tried hard not to raise your voice thinking that if You looked calm and confident. Your father could listen to you for once.

“You know perfectly well that the line of succession follows the lineage of Laenor.”

“That's the point,” you exclaimed. “Lucerys has no Velaryon blood and no offense to Laenor, but we all know you will never have descendants. "You turned when you saw your brother but he didn't look offended by your words so you turned your attention to your father "If Laenor doesn't have children then the line that follows is Laena's but she still doesn't have children so until that happens follow my line. Alyn was born first so he will have Harrenhall but Driftmark belongs to Aethan.”

“Lucerys will inherit Driftmark after Laenor,” your father stated as if he hadn't heard anything you said.

“He doesn't have Velaryon blood!” you argued, losing your patience, a part of you wanted to throw yourself at the desk and beat your father to the point of exhaustion. Maybe this way he would come to his senses.

“History does not remember blood, it remembers names”

Again he was looking at you like you were a little girl, like you were stupid and couldn't understand what she was talking about. But you understood, he was always going to care more about his ambition than his family. This time you did not hide from his gaze but instead took refuge in your fury.

Nightwing shouted angrily from the Dragon's Pit.

Slapped.

Your father looked at you in shock. You didn't feel guilt or regret, in fact, you felt satisfaction. You hoped the mark of your hand would remain on his face. You weren't going to apologize, he deserved it for choosing Rhaenyra and his bastard over you and your son, his own blood.

Laenor was the first to react, taking your arm and pulling you back and then standing in front of you, ready to protect you in case his father tried to do something to you. But you weren't afraid. Your father had never hit you before and you didn't think he would start doing it now, not when you were already a grown woman, not when you could still hear the furious screams of your dragon, not when you both knew that if he dared to touch you your mother wouldn't hesitate to feed him to Meleys

“Get her out of here,” Corlys ordered, regaining his patriarchal composure.

You broke free from your brother's grip. You didn't need an escort. You could go alone but you had one last thing to say. You expected this to torment him.

“You will be the one to ruin our name, you will make us a laughing stock if you leave that child as heir.”

Of course, your fury can't last forever. That's why when Larys entered through the secret passageway that your room had, he found you curled up in bed.

"Are you angry?" You turn your back on him as you feel him lift the sheets to get into the bed next to you.

Your voice was weak and unsure like you were afraid to know his answer. And Larys didn't like it.

"Just for not being able to see how you hit my brother" he replied and you wanted to laugh but it came out more like a sob making the look in Larys' eyes soften. If it was someone else they would find it annoying or feel uncomfortable but you are the exception. He just wanted to make your pain go away. "What happened?" he asked, ready to listen to you complain about Harwin and Rhaenyra.

"My father wants Lucerys Velaryon to be heir to Driftmark instead of Aethan" You turned around and dared to sneak into your lover's chest now that you knew he wasn't upset with you.

You took Larys by surprise because he didn't expect that to be the reason for your discomfort.

"That's not going to happen," he assured you as he gave you comforting strokes on your back. "Not many children make it to the age of two. Even if they do, they can always have an accident during their childhood. And if that doesn't happen, then we'll take care of Lucerys."

You should be horrified by what Larys just said and its implications. You should be scared at how calm he seems at the idea of murdering his own nephew but instead, you feel more in love with him. It's twisted but his words gave you comfort, knowing that you weren't alone in this, that you had someone on your side who was willing to do something so heinous just for you and so that your child would have his birthright. You and Larys must be crazy thinking about the death of a newlyborn baby. You're probably not as good a person as you thought and you don't know how to feel about it. You send a silent prayer to the gods and apologize for your thoughts because that's what a good person would do. You convince yourself that your fury is still poisoning your head and that's why you think of Lucerys dead. Your usual self would never think of that. How would you wish for the death of an innocent baby?

"We won't do anything," you say but both you and Larys can notice the lack of determination in your decision. But he's smart enough not to highlight it, it would only worsen your mood. "It's not Lucerys' fault that my father chose Rhaenyra over me," your voice breaks at the end and it seems like you're about to cry again.

"He didn't choose her, he chose the power he thinks she possesses," he said in an attempt to make you feel better.

"I'm sorry that your father disappointed you," he gently wiped your tears with his thumb. "But you don't need it. You have your siblings, and your mother and you have me. I'm always on your side."

At his last statement, you felt your heart warm up along with a sudden huge need to kiss him. So you obeyed your desire and leaned towards him and then captured his lips. You kissed him again and again, you tasted his lips as if it were the most exquisite wine you had ever tasted, but the thirst you felt for him did not seem to disappear.

"Be good and make me forget about today" you asked with heavy breathing.

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[lightleak007]

~ The Legend of How You Disappeared ~

Storyline: Kokushibo thought that people with rare blood are the only ones who can make him feel the excitement of consuming them. But you—you are awakening his humanistic urge that is supposed to be long forgotten.

!! SMUT ALERT !!

!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !!

PS. Hi, reader! I'm making my tumblr debut with one of my favorite Demon Slayer Character x Reader stories that I made. Hope you enjoy reading~

During the Taisho period, it is part of the culture to be married at a young age. The age of sixteen is the appropriate age to have a husband through an arranged marriage. That’s why learning how to be a good wife is much more important than learning how to be intellectual.

You had prepared yourself for the day to be chosen as a bride, but your life wasn’t the same as everybody else—no one wanted you.

If only you were chosen and got married by the age of sixteen, you wouldn’t be seen as bad luck by your own family and everybody else in town.

As you live your life for two decades, you are seen as a disgrace, and everyone who knew you always looked at you with pity in their eyes. Even work does not come easy since everyone believes you’ll only attract misfortune to their business. It got you thinking that maybe life isn’t hard, it’s just you finding it hard to live because the people around you make it so.

It feels like you’re just breathing, but not living—you feel empty and unwanted. The only thing that gives you peace of mind is an evening walk, and you developed a habit of doing it every night without a miss.

Even with the rumors about a demon who hunts humans for food being the only talk in your town lately, it doesn’t stop you to take a late-night walk. More like, you don’t care if you encounter the demon and he puts an end to your life—or maybe the demon won’t even choose you to be their prey in the first place.

You scoffed at the thought of encountering a picky demon as you continue to walk towards the riverside. When you got to your usual spot, you put down your lantern on the grass before sitting beside it. The moon is unusually bright tonight and its light is reflecting on the calm water that is flowing in the river in front of you.

“Ah~ It feels a little chilly tonight,” you said to yourself as you felt the night breeze, and put on your haori that you brought with you. Nighttime is the only time you are free—from judgments and the pitiful stare of everyone you know. It feels nice to have solitude and the gentle flow of wind against you is adding to your relaxation.

The cold air of the night keeps brushing against your skin and as the wind blows, your scent is being flown with it—reaching the nostrils of the rumored demon in the area. He can feel his senses tingle upon smelling a human nearby.

Kokushibo moves swiftly to your location, his hunger beginning to rise within him. Just by your scent, he could tell you are a woman in her younger years, and the closer he gets to where you are… his sixth sense revealed much more.

Without you noticing him, Kokushibo stands a few feet away behind you. He couldn’t believe what he could see with his sixth sense, but he knows that his eyes are not lying to him.

Kokushibo can tell without a doubt that you are a virgin.

A thrill runs in his veins and an unfamiliar urge is igniting within him upon knowing this. Kokushibo thought that people with rare blood are the only ones who can make him feel the excitement of consuming them. But you—you are awakening his humanistic urge that is supposed to be long forgotten.

Being a demon, Kokushibo did not think that it was possible for him to feel any sexual urge, especially, toward a human. For demons, humans are nothing but food and power source. Yet when your scent penetrated his nostrils, a tingling sensation runs through under his skin, and his instincts told him to have you.

Kokushibo unsheaths his fleshy sword from his side. Thinking to himself that after he absorbs you, he'll be back to his usual self—being composed and reserved. In just one slash, he knew he could end your life and he won’t be bothered by his humanistic feelings anymore.

You only became aware of someone else’s presence behind you when you felt a sharp tip pressing at your back. A gasp left your lips and your mind wondered who could it be. Your heart races its beat as you slowly turn your head to see who it is.

A louder gasp escapes from you upon realizing that the person who pointed his sword at you, is in fact, a demon. You tilt your face away to see him, he has three pairs of eyes that can’t go unnoticed by someone. His face has flame markings on the left side of his forehead and on the right side of his chin. He stands tall in front of you and his spiky hair is tied in a ponytail behind his head. He’s wearing a purple kimono with beehive patterns on it and partnered it with black hakama pants that are tied with a white cloth belt on his waist. Somehow, you felt admiration for his majestic features.

“W-Who are you…?” You asked as he pointed his fleshy sword at your face this time. Well, you guess this is where your miserable life ends.

Even as a demon, he’s polite enough to answer your question. “Upper Moon Rank One of Twelve Kizuki,” he saw how your face looks puzzled at what he said, “Kokushibo.” He was a little surprised that you did not run away screaming.

As someone who’s tired of living, you don’t feel scared anymore of getting killed by him. It’s not your wish to spend your time growing old in a world that only gives unfairness to you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t run away,” you said as you get up on your feet, “You can do anything to me. I’ve been ready to throw my life away anyway, Kokushibo.” You flashed him a genuine smile—something you haven’t done in a long time.

Kokushibo’s eyebrows twitch, “Do…anything to her?” He thought as he felt the shivers that run through his body, and the smile that you gave him only made his heart fall. He pointed his sword to your chest and he watches as you anticipated the slash.

You waited with eyes-closed, heartbeat racing but there’s no regret creeping into your chest. Then, you felt the sword swing across your body and the breeze of the night penetrated your skin. Slowly, you opened one eye to see what happened—only to see Kokushibo sheathing his sword back to his side.

When the wind flew again, it felt too cold against your body. Realization slowly sank in you as shredded pieces of clothing swayed in front of your eyes. You look at your body and found yourself…naked.

“I have permission to do anything to you right now,” Kokushibo catches your waist and pulled your naked body closer to his. His face inching closer to your neck and his other hand already caressing one of your breasts.

“A-Aren’t you—hng!” The feeling of his lips kissing lavishly on your neck made you hold off your question. You weren’t aware that a demon like him could be a pervert and would do sexual advances on his prey—this wasn’t what you expected. His sharp nails grazing against your back made you elicit a shuddering breath and caused you to push your chest closer to him.

Kokushibo slathers his tongue from your shoulder blade to your neck and it reaches until the back of your ears. “Your taste is addicting….” He paused upon the realization that he doesn’t know your name.

“Tell me…” Kokushibo pulled your chin to tilt your head and made you look at him, “...your name, human.”

“_______,” you answered without hesitation as you hold onto his shoulders and felt your heart flutter at his compliment. Your naked body presses close to him and you can feel a hard tent poking on your thigh.

“_______,” Kokushibo repeated as if your name is something he won’t ever want to forget. His hands ran all over your body as his mouth started working on your neck again. Your scent and taste against Kokushibo’s senses are enough to make him moan. He ran his fangs on the veins of your neck and the urge to bite you is so strong but his sexual urge for you is stronger.

The feeling of Kokushibo’s lips against your skin is ticklish and sensual, both feelings are something you never had before from someone else. You felt your body being guided to lay down on the grass where your shredded clothes are. As soon as your back hits the ground, Kokushibo hovers on top of you and seizes your lips.

“Hmng!” The sudden kiss caught you off-guard, making it hard to respond as his tongue invades your mouth. You can only release puffs of air and let him eagerly suck on your tongue—the sensation is electrifying.

Kokushibo keeps himself busy as he savors your taste in your mouth, not really minding all the saliva he’s been slurping from you. It has been so long since he ever kissed someone and he’s well aware that not even with his wife from before time, had awakened a such desire he’s been feeling for you. He doesn’t want to stop and his tongue pushes deep into your mouth—nearly reaching your throat.

You almost choked and your eyes filled with tears as you find it hard to breathe. With all the strength that you have, you pushed him away and moaned, “Ko-Kokushibo…”

There’s a trickle of saliva on the side of his mouth as he pulled away and the way you moaned his name made him feel a throb in his aching length. Kokushibo wiped off your stained cheek with his cold hand as gently as he could. He’s feeling too much ache between his legs that his clothing is making him feel more uncomfortable.

You watch as Kokushibo undress between your legs, he has pale skin but a muscular body, and your eyes were interrupted from lowering down your gaze when he hoists your legs in his arms. The dripping of your arousal in between your legs is being reflected by the moonlight, and the embarrassment snaps in you as Kokushibo leans in closer to your wetness.

Kokushibo inhales deep your arousal scent—too inviting for him. He felt your hips squirming away in shyness but he had no problem firming his hold on your thighs. His hands spread your wetness open and his sharp nails dug into your inner thighs at the sight of your tight hole. Every breath that he takes is heavy as he keeps himself in control.

You started to feel more embarrassed and insecure as Kokushibo stay in a daze with your virgin hole. But, every puff of air from his mouth feels too hot against your wetness that it’s taking effect on you too. Your soft hand reaches for his hand that’s holding into your inner thigh, “What’s… wrong?”

“I want to taste what’s dripping from you here,” Kokushibo’s knuckles caresses your folds and gently prod your clit unconsciously.

Before you could answer, you felt his flat tongue lathering on your wetness back and forth. The tip of his tongue rubbed on your clit and licking on your slit—causing your legs to spread further apart. Your hands hold onto his head as Kokushibo let himself drown in your wetness, and your voice sounds high and lewd from the sensation.

Kokushibo’s mouth works with hunger and your arousal coating even his chin as he pushes his tongue inside you. He slurps loudly and sucked on the nub his mouth had found—causing your legs to tremble against his hold.

“Ahhh~!!” You cried out in pleasure as you tug on his hair, “Kokushibo~! Your tongue—haa~!!”

The way you pulled his hair is not having any effect on Kokushibo, it only made him groan against your clit, as his tongue penetrates your insides. He can feel the soft pleats of your insides squeezing around the wet muscle of his mouth.

The further his tongue reaches inside you, the closer you felt yourself convulsing. Your legs shake around his head and your body gave in to the newfound ecstasy. You came undone in his mouth and your insides wetter than ever.

Kokushibo gulped all the secretions left in his mouth and he stare down at your heavily breathing state. He presses his shaft on your abused clit and you flinch away in sensitiveness. He had to hold your hips still as he started penetrating your tight insides.

You whined at the sensation of getting stretched apart, he felt hard inside you, and it feels impossible to take all of him. The brush of his pulsating veins in your slick walls is making your eyes roll in the back of your head.

“I can’t— ‘s too much.”

Kokushibo pulled your body up on his lap, to help you sink on him as he was just halfway in, “Don’t run away from me, _______.”

You felt his hands on your ass and your body swiftly pushed down to his length. You let out a cry of his name and felt a searing pain as you fully take him inside you. Tears freely fell from your eyes as you feel the pain—his length feels too hard and your insides still adjusting from his wide girth.

"Please..." You can feel the sting in your eyes as tears continue to trickle down and stain your cheeks, "Stop... Please, stop."

Unbeknownst to both of you, spots of blood from your torn hymen are freely dripping from your joined bodies together and staining the ground.

"I can't.” Kokushibo started to thrust, “This can't be over now, _______."

You cried out louder and had to bite on his shoulder to distract yourself from the pain. Your teeth sink into his pale skin and your fingertips scratch his back, as Kokushibo keeps your body moving on top of him.

Kokushibo groaned internally as he felt you bit on his skin… and he almost prayed to a god just to keep the mark that you made. But, it wasn’t possible, his healing ability already made your bite vanish.

“Kokushibo,” you sniffled on the crook of his neck.

“It will feel better, _______,” Kokushibo kisses your shoulder blade and continue to gently guide your hips in moving. He couldn’t focus on feeling the pleasure as you cry, but he knew that he couldn’t stay still as your insides grip on his length too hard.

Your insides adjusted fully as he keeps thrusting, soon enough, the pain you were feeling was replaced by a ticklish yet sensual sensation. You can feel that it became easier to take him in as you move above him, and your voice lets out erotic moans.

Kokushibo has his six eyes closed as he lets you move on your own, the pleasure in his body is getting stronger and stronger. His hands squeeze on your soft ass and his sharp nails unconsciously left scratch marks on your skin, due to his eagerness. He’s letting out deep groans and sighs as he lets himself be consumed by the pleasure.

You felt like a knot is getting twisted inside you and the more you move, the tighter it gets. “Kokushibo~ Hnngh!”

Kokushibo caresses your face after hearing his name, your face distorts beautifully for him as the pleasure intoxicates you. He wrapped one arm around your waist and move his hips, taking the lead with speed. He can feel your nipples brushing against his face as he bounces you on top of him.

Your hold on his shoulders tightens and it’s hard to keep yourself steady. You couldn’t think straight as the pleasure gets in your head. You felt your body giving up as another wave of surprise orgasm surged throughout your body.

Kokushibo felt your insides squeeze around him repeatedly—forcing him to pull out. He felt your body falls on him and your ragged breathing is apparent. He took in a deep breath, he had almost reached his high, and he intended to pursue it.

You felt being flipped to your back and Kokushibo from behind is pushing his shaft inside you again. A loud whine escaped your lips as you feel being full again, and he felt bigger in the new position. Your legs already shaking as soon as he started to thrust.

“Kokushibo~!! Unghh!!” Your hands gripping the grass and making marks on the ground as you take in his pounding. This time, he felt forceful and relentless—as if chasing something.

Kokushibo’s mind got clouded by the pleasure that he’s spitting out a proposal near your ear in between his moans, “Let’s live together, ________.” He moaned deliciously again, “Live together with me.”

Without thinking about it, “Yes! Kokushibo, yes~!!”

Maybe it was the pleasure you’re feeling that took your sense of logic away, but you know you won’t regret the choice you made.

Kokushibo dragged his hips once more before unloading thick strings of his warm cum and it painted your narrow insides white. All of his kept seeds bursting out inside you and making you full—literally overwhelming your womb.

You can still feel Kokushibo pumping inside you and your body could only take in all that he gave. Eyes rolling at the back of your head, hands gripping the ground, and your voice sounding lewd can be heard from a far distance.

Kokushibo stared at your limp state, while his desire is barely satiated. He took you in his arms and brushed away the strands of your hair from your face, “Take my blood and I’ll keep you, _______.”

You obliged. Finally, you have found someone who wanted you.

Before sunrise, you and Kokushibo are off to spend the rest of your demon life together. Leaving your shredded clothes on the ground and pieces of evidence of you losing your virginity. The marks on the ground and the spots of blood from where you were last night were founded by a man who’s out to fish in the river.

Since then, a legend of how you disappeared arises in your town based on the traces that you left. People believed that you were eaten by a demon as it was your fate for being unmarriable.

The legend of your disappearance was told to many young girls through generations and they feared having the same fate as you.

[wittyandobsessed]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Jack Sparrow x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | none.

𝘎𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯.

The Black Pearl sat idle in the harbor, her dark sails resting against the stillness of the afternoon air. Will Turner leaned against a post on the gangplank, arms crossed, watching the woman approaching with a mix of disbelief and cautious curiosity. She moved in a way that defied reason, a sort of confident stagger that somehow kept her upright despite every indication she might tip over at any second.

“Gibbs,” Will murmured, nudging the older man beside him. “She walks like…”

“Jack,” Gibbs finished, squinting at her as if seeing a ghost. “Aye, she does.”

Her attire was as haphazardly theatrical as the man she so eerily resembled—boots scuffed and mismatched, a coat too grand for her frame, and a hat adorned with what looked like a battered seashell tied to a feather. She carried herself like she owned the dock, and perhaps in her mind, she did.

Jack Sparrow, lounging at the rail with one boot propped up and a half-empty bottle of rum in his hand, caught sight of her. His face froze for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing as if he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t imagining her. Then, as if struck by some divine inspiration, he stood, dusted himself off, and sauntered down the gangplank.

The woman’s gaze locked on him as she closed the distance. She stopped a few paces away, tilting her head, her grin slow and sharp.

“Well, if it isn’t Jack Sparrow,” she drawled, her voice laced with mockery. “Still breathing, I see. Must be my lucky day.”

“Captain Jack Sparrow,” Jack corrected, tipping his hat with an exaggerated flourish. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of this most curious encounter?”

She twirled a ring on her finger idly, her grin never faltering. “Captain,” she replied.

“Captain…?” Jack prompted, stepping closer, his hands flitting through the air as if to pull the answer from her.

“Just Captain.”

Jack blinked, his mouth twitching into a bemused smile. “Just Captain?”

“Aye.” She tapped her temple. “Keeps things mysterious. Fewer people to come after me for debts.”

Jack’s eyes lit up as though she’d spoken the sweetest words he’d ever heard. “A woman after my own heart,” he said, his grin widening.

Will groaned quietly, and Gibbs took a swig from his flask.

“Captain Sparrow,” she said, stepping closer and giving him a once-over. “Rumor has it you’re the second-best pirate in the Caribbean.”

Jack’s jaw dropped, his hands flying up in protest. “Second?!” he exclaimed, indignant. “There must be some grave misunderstanding, love. Who’s been spreading such vile slander?”

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned in with a conspiratorial air. “Maybe the same people who said you got caught in Port Royal while chasing your own hat?”

Jack’s face twisted into a defensive pout. “That was a tactical misstep,” he muttered, then quickly recovered his swagger. “And who, may I ask, has the audacity to claim they’re better than me?”

She leaned back, her smirk widening. “You’re looking at her.”

For a moment, Jack was utterly silent, his mouth opening and closing as though trying to form words. Then, suddenly, he let out a delighted laugh, spinning in a circle and pointing back at Gibbs and Will. “Do you hear this, mates? She thinks she’s better than me!”

Will crossed his arms tighter. “I don’t know if the world can handle two of them.”

Gibbs sighed. “We’re doomed, lad. Doomed.”

Jack turned back to her, his expression alight with giddy admiration. “Well, Captain Just Captain,” he said, stepping close enough that their hats nearly touched. “You’ve piqued my interest. What’s your game, eh? Treasure? Adventure? The eternal pursuit of rum?”

“All of the above,” she quipped, leaning in to match his proximity. “And you?”

Jack’s grin turned devilish. “A little of this, a little of that. Mostly, I prefer to keep people guessing.”

Their exchange was a flurry of rapid-fire banter, their words overlapping as if neither could wait to one-up the other. It was like watching two storms collide, chaotic yet mesmerizing.

Will finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you two going to flirt all day, or are we actually going to leave port at some point?”

Jack spun to face him, offended. “Flirt? Flirt?! I’ll have you know, Mr. Turner, this is no ordinary exchange of pleasantries. This is an advanced tactical maneuver.”

She chimed in, raising a finger. “Pirate diplomacy, if you will.”

“Exactly,” Jack said, pointing at her.

Will’s expression was blank. “Right.”

“Don’t worry, lad,” Gibbs said, patting Will on the shoulder. “Best to let it play out. You’ll hurt your head trying to make sense of it.”

Jack turned back to her, his hand outstretched. “So, what do you say, love? Care to join the crew of the Black Pearl? Finest ship on the seas, and, if I may say so, the finest captain.”

Her grin softened slightly, her hand slipping into his. “Well, I suppose I could use a ship.” She tugged him closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “But only if you’re ready to be second-best.”

Jack barked a laugh, pulling her up the gangplank. “We’ll see about that!”

Gibbs chuckled, shaking his head as the pair disappeared onto the ship. “Mark my words, Turner,” he said, taking another swig. “This’ll be the start of somethin’ legendary—or a disaster.”

Will sighed. “With Jack, it’s always both.”

[inheritedbelly]

Weight of Life on the Farm

Every year my father dragged me to the family’s farm in the middle of nowhere. I never understood his obsession with the countryside, with the woods, with the mud. It was all disgusting and dirty. But nothing, absolutely nothing, was worse than the great-uncle himself, his uncle. A gross old man, in his seventies, and a retired truck driver. The first time I saw Uncle Frank, I had to hold back from vomiting. He was the kind of person who takes pride in being gross, you know? The kind of person who finds humor in being filthy. He would fart loudly, sneeze as if he were about to die, and didn't even bother to cover his mouth. And that smell? My God, it was as if the stench had been absorbed into his skin. It was a smell of old sweat, mixed with cigarette smoke and a bunch of other things I didn’t even want to imagine. I'll never forget the time he walked past me in the hallway and laughed when he saw me covering my nose. "Smell of a man, kid, get used to it!" he shouted, as if it were something to be proud of. Disgusting. Besides that, Uncle Frank made a point of always walking around the house in his underwear as if his body were toned and healthy—pathetic. That’s exactly what he was. Every summer was the same: I was forced to face the filth, the heat, the insects, and worst of all, Uncle Frank.

I was already counting the days to go back to the city, to my life, to the air conditioning, and away from the smell of the countryside. But my father had other plans. He wanted to make a Sunday lunch, but we were short on ingredients, so he decided that I should go with Frank to the neighboring town to buy some things. My father had an annoying insistence that I get along with my uncle. Of course, I would have much preferred to stay locked in my room rather than go in that old car, but as usual, I had no choice. At least I convinced him to let me wear something decent. There I was, in the passenger seat, trying not to breathe deeply, while Uncle Frank drove. The heat was suffocating, and his smell mixed with the old leather of the car made me want to open the door and jump out.

The drive to the town was hell. The dirt road shook the car, and every time Uncle Frank tried to make small talk, I only responded with monosyllables. There was absolutely nothing I wanted to discuss with him. But of course, the old man didn’t know when to stop. He started complaining about the city, how young people today didn’t know what real work was. I couldn’t take it anymore. We started arguing, and I didn’t hold back. He was an old-fashioned fool and had no idea what he was talking about. As if life in the countryside were something to be proud of. We were so wrapped up in the argument that we didn’t even notice when the sky suddenly darkened. A deafening thunderclap split the air, and suddenly, everything turned white.

When I woke up, the first thing I felt was a strange pressure in my stomach. What the hell was happening? My vision was still blurry, but I felt something was wrong. Very wrong… My hand instinctively went to my belly, but it wasn’t my hand. It was a thick, calloused hand, full of prominent veins and white hairs—a hand that seemed to have spent a lifetime carrying weight. And what was pressing on my stomach? My God, the steering wheel was sunk into a huge, round, hairy belly. What the hell was that? I looked down and almost screamed. A monstrous belly was there, where my smooth abdomen used to be. I could taste the sweat dripping from a mustache that had magically appeared above my mouth.

An unbearable heat enveloped me, and I realized I was sweating. A lot. As if I had just come out of an oven. The clothes clung to my body, sweat dripped down my face, neck, and back. I was drenched, and that stench, that disgusting smell, was coming from me. My breathing became heavy, and that’s when I heard a curse word in my old voice. I looked to the side and saw my body, my face, with an expression of pure terror. It was Uncle Frank. He was in my body, looking at me as if he had seen a ghost, but soon a wicked smile began to form on his lips.

— What did you do? — I shouted, or at least tried to. My voice came out hoarse, choked, like an old man’s. I put my hands to my throat, feeling the roughness of the skin, the hair on the chest. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare. I tried to move, but the body was heavy, slow.I could feel my balls, or rather, Uncle Frank's balls, sticking with sweat between my legs.

— It wasn’t me! — my uncle, now in my body, said with my voice, equally surprised. — But damn, this isn’t half bad.

I was about to vomit. I tried to get up, but the weight of the new body threw me back into the seat. The steering wheel was pressing into the belly, which seemed to have a life of its own, jiggling with every movement. I finally managed to get up, feeling the sweat dripping down my back, and looked at Uncle Frank, who was now admiring his own reflection in the car’s mirror, in my body. He was running his hands through his hair and over my clean skin.

— What are we going to do now? — my voice was desperate, and he just shrugged. — Go back home, I guess. — he said, still admiring his own reflection. The idea of going back to the farm in this body was unbearable. I could barely move, each step was an effort. The heat was suffocating, the smell of sweat was unbearable, and the feeling of the coarse beard rubbing against my neck was nauseating. I was sweating so much that my shirt was already soaked, sticking to my skin. But what irritated me the most was the old man’s grin. He was clearly enjoying himself, as if he had won the lottery. And me? I was trapped in this hellish body, with no idea how to get out of it.

In the car, I realized I had to adjust my posture to adapt to my new center of gravity. My man-boobs spilled out of the tight tank top that my uncle wore. The fat sweat dripping from the mustache was the worst thing after the giant belly. On the way back, I tried to think of how to tell my parents, but who would believe such a story? “Hi, Mom, Dad, so, I swapped bodies with Uncle Frank.” They would send me to a mental institution. So my uncle and I agreed not to tell anyone until we figured out a way to fix this. I hoped at least to wake up in the morning back in my body, hoping this would all end.

I woke up with that dry cough that felt like it was tearing my throat out from the inside. Nothing like a natural wake-up. I rubbed my sweaty forehead, trying to push away the feeling of fatigue that had been with me for months. I slowly raised my torso, feeling the familiar pressure of the mattress sinking under my weight, while scratching my belly. The rough skin stretched over the accumulated fat was something I had never managed to get used to. It wasn’t my body. It wasn’t what I should be feeling. But there I was, in that damned body, exactly one year later. I got up from the sofa, where Uncle Frank was sleeping, with the feeling of discomfort that had been accompanying me. The feeling of discomfort that came only from the extra weight he now carried. The tight underwear revealed a raging morning erection, something that became one of the few things that relieved me early in the morning. Every day I masturbated, and after orgasm I felt disgusted and repulsed, because the first thing I saw was my uncle's disheveled, hairy belly.

I went to the bathroom to clean myself up, each step making the floor creak under Uncle Frank's weight, which was now mine. I stared at the reflection in the mirror, as I did every morning. That old man, with reddish skin, unshaven beard, and deep-set eyes, stared back at me. I sighed as I always did. I started thinking. It had been exactly a year since the swap, and there was still no sign that it could be undone. I tried to maintain some level of dignity, even trapped in this repugnant body. I took showers, unlike Uncle Frank, and used deodorant. At least I tried to keep the smell under control, which was an ungrateful task, considering this body sweated non-stop. And the gas? It was hell. It was as if all the bad air in the world had accumulated in my stomach, with no escape.

Meanwhile, Uncle Frank seemed to adapt perfectly to my body, and my life. I saw his photos, now on my social media profile, showing off my body on the internet. Each image was a punch to my gigantic stomach. A reminder of everything I had lost. He was happy, smiling, enjoying life, like a city boy, while I was here, trapped in this old carcass. In addition to my routine masturbations, I still managed to pay some twinks to have sex with me. No one wanted to be with me anymore, not for free.

I sighed once again, wondering if I would ever be able to undo the curse. Or was he doomed to be a disgusting old man forever? I reached out and tapped her belly, feeling the soft flesh bounce on impact. It was surreal to still feel the repulsion when touching my own skin. But there wasn't much time to mourn. It was time to start another day of routine on the farm, in Uncle Rank's body. I opened the buttons on the front of my t-shirt so it wouldn't be so hot, I hated the feeling of my belly fighting against my clothes. As soon as I got dressed I was hard again, oh my, my body was massive and sometimes it ended up turning me on. My old dick hurt from so much moonshine against my huge dirty underwear. But I decided I should work, maybe Frank's twink helper would relieve me later if I paid him some money to suck me. Another day of pretending there was still a chance to get back what was taken from me.

[serenityysworld]

Nerd Yan x gn Popular Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tw: cursing, violence, clingy behavior, physical abuse,

Nerd Yan who you first saw in the library getting bullied by a group of delinquents. You hated bullies. So, being the empathic person you were, you confronted them.

You told them you’d snitched and they mumbled curses before leaving. You helped the poor boy up and it was a bit awkward after, he stood there silently. He was practically studying you.

Nerd Yan who thought you were his savior! His crush noticed him? It must be fate, the gods planned this out. He thanked them subconsciously before snapping back into reality.

“Are you okay? also, can I have your name I’ll be reporting those people.” You spoke to him.

He was silent for a few seconds before he seemed to notice what you said, “um! I- m-my name is Ethan.. and y-yeah! I’m totally fine. They didn’t really do anything too bad to me.” He blabbered.“Oh okay, well my names y/n. Nice to meet you!” You shook his hands and you felt how weak and thin he were, wow. He let out a tiny gasp at the skin contact. “Y..yeah I know who you are. Your like super popular.. and it’s very nice to meet you too!” He said nervously.

After a small convo you exchanged numbers and began a small friendship. He was really nice. He gave you lots of gifts and he was so empathetic, you felt like you could share everything with him. He was like THE perfect friend. Since you were more popular you weren’t with Ethan a lot since he was extremely anti social. You hung out with him outside of school and it was really fun, except for the parts where he’d almost faint being In a big crowd and hated people being beside you. After a few months of being friends though he started to change, just a bit..maybe.

Ethan was like a different person. He looked weak but when he was determined to do something he was a whole different person, it seemed. He was way more bold, he walked up to you while you were with your friend group and just yanked you away from them. When you two had a sleep over later that day he said he did it because they weren’t good for you, and they annoyed him with how close they were to you?! That’s odd. He usually came over and slept over at your house after school every day, but you were going to a party today. It’s normal, you’re popular and extroverted. Nothing wrong with that. Well that’s what you thought.

You got slammed into the wall with a harsh yank, then Ethan yanked your head back to make you look at him. “You’re not leaving. I barely even hung out with you today and you already wanna leave. Your not fucking going to that boring party with all of your fake little friends. So, change that outfit please. Also, take off the makeup, I wanna watch a movie.” He said nonchalantly before getting up and walking away.

It was your fault. Your fault for making him jealous of everyone who breathed the same air as you, Your fault for saving him, your fault for becoming friends with him. Your fault for making him violent. It’s not him, it’s you.

These days you kinda regret becoming friends with Ethan. He’s so clingy, abusive, and toxic. Maybe you should tell your friends at school.. it’s getting lonely dealing with the abuse, not talking to your friends. It’s draining.. Maybe you should go to that party this Sunday, Ethan doesn’t have to know, he won’t know…

Pt. 2??

[pyrodolls]

yandere tomas vrbada x reader hcs

warnings: stalking, tomas is kinda disgusting and creepy here, regular yandere tendencies, some implied nsfw but not smut

summary: hcs of yandere smoke x (gender neutral) reader

a/n: he’s yandere in this story he’s supposed to be ooc btw. usually i dislike when people make smoke submissive and stuff but i get it now. anyways this was fun to write :3 i love you all go drink some water

tomas could not get enough of you. just being in the same room as you makes his heart beat rapidly. your scent was addicting like a drug, you always looked breathtaking, and you also looked so cute while you slept!

in fact, one of tomas's favorite hobbies is watching you sleep. it's not creepy, because your window isn't locked! he's just inviting himself in. he loves grazing his fingers over your skin, your sweet delicate skin, and he almost feels as if it's sinful. as if he doesn't deserve to be in the same room as you. as if he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you.

his heart jumps out his throat every time you speak to him. even the smallest conversations mean a lot to him, and he'll go to bed that night thinking about it, completely overthinking anything he said to you.

"hey tomas!" you greeted, walking by him.

"oh, uh, h-hey!" tomas stammered.

that's it. that was the whole conversation. and yet he went to sleep that night wanting to skin himself alive for stammering. he thought he was such a fool for not engaging enough with you. maybe if he spoke to you more, you'd pay more attention to him.

he needed your attention. he needed your validation.

even if it was negative. he just needed you to look at him.

if you looked at him in awe, he'd explode into a million pieces. if you looked at him with disgust, he'd have to excuse himself to take care of something in the nearest restroom.

tomas was also a bit of a.. hoarder. every object you have ever touched and left behind, he picked up and kept it. he tries not to pick those objects up with his bare hands, scared that he would ruin it.

that also means he sometimes takes some clothes of yours. only the ones you don't wear often, of course! he would never be an inconvenience to you and steal your favorites. he knows which are your favorites and which ones aren't.

tomas likes to sleep with your clothes right next to him. breathing in your scent as he falls asleep is a euphoric feeling to him. his heart shatters every time they lose your scent, but he keeps it anyway just because it used to belong to you. but no worries, he'll return it once you two are married!

he finds it very tempting to profess his love to you- but he knows you ultimately wouldn't accept his affections yet. he needs to wait. unfortunately, he is far too shy to even speak to you often.

sure, you both got along and you spoke at least once a day, but it wasn't enough for him. he needs to glue himself to your side in order to truly feel satisfied. for now he can handle just being in the same room once a day, but he dreams of someday being yours. someday he can be by your side. if you don't want him by your side and you only want him as a servant or something, he will gladly accept that too! whatever it takes to please you. he will follow you around like a lost puppy if he has to.

once you start dating and end up married, tomas would prefer that you didn't have a job, especially if it has to do with kombat. he would hate for you to constantly be around danger. besides, he can do all the work for you! he wants you to let him pamper you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. he can leave every morning and continue his work in the shirai ryu, then come home to you! that's his ideal future.

he knows he often puts himself in danger as well. he knows his job isn't easy, and he puts his life at risk every day. but you keep him going. the thought of your future with him keeps him going every day. it is his motivation to survive every battle he engages in.

tomas just loves you very much! he loves you so much it drives him crazy that he can't embrace you. but someday... someday he can. someday he will be able to touch you, love you, protect you. he can't wait for that day to come. for now, he is content with savoring your scent and touch everywhere you go, staring at you from afar, and yearning for your touch. but once he finally gains the courage to get closer to you and confess to you, you will be with him. you *will* be together.