#she said she was feeling the plant's pain and fainted

[cepheusgalaxy]

Hmmm I think maybe with Pokemon XY? You know when Ash and Grey Ninja unlock that super cool mode where they merge and Grey Ninja gets super pumped up but every hit he feels Ash also feels so when he fainted the first time I think that one got me in 👌

I was sat trying to work out what got me into whump. I thought it was coming across the community. However, I have been watching/listening to all of the Saw movies. Then it hit me. It was because of them.

The first one I watched was either Saw or Saw III (I don't remember exactly but I think it was Saw). I do remember being about 10 or 11 (so about 16 or 15 years ago) and watching it on the free horror channel after I was meant to be in bed.

Not only did Saw start my horror and thriller love, Creepypasta phase (yep I went there) later, and now my love for the whump community overall.

I'm curious where it started for everyone else.

[drunk-person]

Bravery in love

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: For Prince Aemond Targaryen, bravery was in war and fighting. Until he met his wife and learned about different forms of bravery.

WARNING: No age restriction. Unhealthy amounts of cuteness and softness, a tiny bit of pain, and one paragraphs of sexual innuendo.

Word cont: 3.500 k

Author's note: Okay I saw a really cute video of a baby discovering that she could move her legs whenever she wanted and she was so cute and I ended up writing this story which is basically a giant fluff hahahaha. English is not my first language so be kind if you can 💕💕.

♡-♡-♡

The sun was already high in Kings Landing on a beautiful warm spring day, the beauty of the season lifted everyone's spirits, but no one had a bigger smile than Princess Y/n, Prince Aemond's wife as she ran to the bedroom door to tell them to call her husband.

The two had been married for two whole years at this point, an arrangement made between Aemond's grandfather and her father. Initially Y/n was apprehensive about the marriage, considering the many terrible stories she had heard of women who had married before her. But upon meeting Prince Aemond, her heart melted for him before she even realized it.

He seemed cold and hard at first when she arrived at the capital, but then suddenly he was so shy and so sweet when they were alone in the garden to talk for the first time. And when Y/n said she liked stories, he smiled, turning his face to the side and told her that he also really liked stories.

Later that night, when Y/n returned to her room, she found a book with a black leather cover and the title "Rhaenys, the bravery of love" next to a very small blue flower. The young lady thought she would faint right there when she touched the soft petals of the flower.

Then came the wedding and after that nothing but happiness with her husband. Every day the two became closer and trusted each other more, to the point that Aemond told her his deepest sorrows and she in return confided hers, and little by little she realized that everything her husband wanted most was just be loved, and that's what she did, she loved him.

Y/n felt happy in a way she never thought would be possible, there was only one problem, it had been a year since the wedding and her belly still hadn't shown any signs of growing. And it wasn't as if she and her husband weren't trying, after they both became acquainted Aemond became thirsty for touch and planted his seed in her every day, sometimes more than once a day, which made her even more worried.

The cruel whispers had already taken over the fortress. Words like "infertility" and "dry womb" became common when they thought she wasn't listening. And as broken as Y/n's heart was, she tried hard to pretend to her husband that it didn't hurt that much. She knew how much Aemond wanted a child, and it was her duty to give him one, guilt plagued her when she thought about it, thinking that she couldn't do so little for a husband who gave her everything she asked for without blinking.

On a winter afternoon with the weather colder than usual in the capital, Y/n was sitting alone in the garden admiring a pair of nightingales that had made a nest in a nearby tree when she felt Aemond's soft but possessive touch pulling her towards him.

-What are you doing here in this cold weather? You'll freeze. - His low voice sounded against her ear and she just smiled weakly.

-I like coming here, it's where we had our first conversation, remember? - She looked at him. - It always makes me happy to think about that day when I don't feel cheerful.

-And why would the most beautiful lady in the realms be sad? - Aemond looked at her deeply, Y/n felt as if he saw through her soul and still trying to hide his sadness, he looked down at the ground.

-Wife. - His gloved fingers guided her chin up and she couldn't escape his gaze again. - I know something is wrong, tell me.

And Y/n could no longer contain herself, the tears that were very well kept ran loose down her face as she hid them in her husband's chest, sobbing and trembling while holding on tightly to him, as if he would evaporate before her.

-I'm sorry, husband! - She sobbed against his chest.

-Y/n, my dear, did someone hurt you? - His voice sounded calm but with barely contained anger as he pulled her closer and closer in an act of protection. - Tell me who it was and I will kill him myself.

-No one has hurt me, husband. - She leaned against him, still pulling on his jerkin. - It's just me and my apparent inability to grant you a child.

-It is not up to you to grant me a child. - He said, looking at her firmly as he brought his hands to her face. - That depends on the will of the gods, when they feel it's time, they will send us a son. Until then, I don't want to see you crying because of this. - He stroked her cheeks with his fingertips and Y/n smiled, her face still slightly wet.

-Now let's go in and have some tea, I don't want you to catch a cold. - He guided her inside by the waist.

That night, amidst moans and groans of love and burning passion, Rhaenys was conceived to the joy and pride of her mother and father.

To Aemond's relief, Y/n had an easy and uncomplicated pregnancy; she just had a burning desire for him and wanted him inside her every hour of the day without rest, something he granted without discussion after a extensive research to find out if it would not pose a risk to his wife or the baby.

The birth was not much different, it was late summer and the weather was starting to get cooler, but even so, it was a difficult time and Aemond did not leave Y/n's side at any time, and the maesters did not dare ask him to leave the birthing chambers more than once after the absolutely deadly look Aemond gave them at the first request.

And when Y/n cried and told her husband that she was scared, he grabbed her hand tightly and whispered only for her to hear.

-I know you can do it, my sweet girl. - Leaving a kiss on her sweaty chest.

-I am not as brave as you. - She cried while shaking her head and holding onto her husband's hands.

-Remember that there is also bravery in love. - Aemond spoke softly, but confidently as he squeezed her hand.

And after hearing that with restored strength at the thought of her little baby, Y/n pushed even harder as she screamed through the pain and could finally hear the sweet cry of her little girl. At that very moment she burst into tears of pure relief and emotion, and when the maester placed her in her arms wrapped in a bloody white cloth she could swear she saw her husband shed a tear or two too.

And with passionate smiles the two chose the name of their little daughter in honor of the conqueror who gave the title to the first gift that Aemond gave her on the day they met. And from that sweet moment on, little Rhaenys became the pride and joy of both their lives.

Almost 7 moons later, already in spring Y/n now felt that her happiness was complete. The sparkle in her eyes could be seen from miles away as she played with her little daughter who had begun to sit up on her own. With each new discovery Rhaenys made, Aemond and Y/n celebrated as if it were a victory in a tournament.

One of the sweetest moments was the day she discovered she could control her own legs. It was something so simple, but so sweet. They were sitting on the bed talking while Rhaenys absentmindedly played with a small wooden sculpture in the shape of a dragon, using it to scratch the teeth that had bothered her since birth.

Suddenly, when they both looked, Rhaenys was laughing as she slowly raised her left leg and watched with a look of delight, only to do the same with her right leg and then lean forward trying to grab her own legs, smiling and babbling.

They both smiled and looked at her full of love, everything was perfect and Y/n had never felt so good in her life. Except for the fact that two days later she discovered that the court had not stopped talking about her. Y/n was walking distractedly towards her own chambers when she heard the whispers and low laughter of other ladies.

-So long to be able to give the prince a child and when she does, it's a girl. - The mockery was clear in that voice.

-Poor Prince Aemond, how much longer will it take until she can give him an heir? - Another lady laughed while whispering. - He'll have to settle for just a daughter, it seems.

Y/n felt her eyes watering at the same moment and accelerated her pace towards the rooms while breathing deeply trying to contain her tears and with a deep sigh she entered her own chambers while wiping away a tear that escaped. As soon as she raised her head and looked at the room she almost smiled at the scene before her.

Aemond sat on the carpet with his long legs crossed with his little Rhaenys held in his arms, his voice sounded softly through the room and now Y/n smiled genuinely when she saw what he was doing.

-Say Kepa. – Aemond smiled gently at his daughter. - Kepa. - He spoke more slowly while gently caressing the child's back.

Her husband was always trying to teach her to say "father" in Valyrian, and the little girl just babbled as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and smiled toothlessly at her father. Aemond swore that she was almost able to do it and that she had even said a syllable to him when they were alone. The prince, feeling like he was being watched, raised his head and smiled softly when he saw his wife standing near the door.

-Your muña is back byka sõvion. (Little butterfly) - He murmured softly to his daughter as he gently shook her and made the little girl smile. Aemond's loving gaze gradually faded as he noticed his wife's melancholy and he carefully placed Rhaenys on the carpet, leaving a soft kiss on the crown of her slightly curly silver hair.

-Umbagon va se ritz byka sõvion. - (Stay on the carpet little butterfly) He whispered as if his little daughter could understand every word and she just screamed and babbled while slapping her hands on the carpet.

The prince walked slowly to his wife and pulled her closer to him, caressing her hips with the tips of his thumbs.

-What's wrong, Issa jorrāelagon? - Aemond murmured against her forehead, leaving a kiss there and then brushing his nose against hers.

-People can be very cruel sometimes. - She sighed against her husband's neck, and Aemond felt his own blood burn in his veins at the prospect of someone being cruel to his Y/n.

-Who had the audacity to say anything to you? - Aemond's voice was restrained, but anger dripped from the corners of his lips and Y/n just shook her head quickly as she laid her head on his chest.

-Just nasty whispers.

-What kind of whispers? - He continued with his voice carefully restrained as he pulled her closer and closer, holding her tightly.

-Does it matter to you that I gave birth to a girl? - She looked him in the eye with pain. - Would you rather have had a son?

-Sīkudi nopāzmi. (Seven hells) - Aemond practically growled with his face contorted with rage as he held Y/n's face firmly between his palms. - Qilōni istan se wretched gīs qilōni naejot vestragon bona naejot ao? Ivestragon issa ābrazȳrys! (Who was the wretched soul who dared to say that to you? Tell me, wife!)

Y/n looked at him confused, not understanding what he had said other than ābrazȳrys. And breathing deeply, trying to control his own nerves, Aemond repeated more calmly while rubbing his wife's arms gently.

-Tell me who was wife. - He asked, looking deeply into her eyes. - Who dared to say such a thing to you?

-I just heard it when I was passing by. - Y/n had seen who it was, but she wouldn't tell him because she knew her husband would do something about it.

Aemond snorted again and pulled her back to him.

-Wife, I don't want you to listen to such nonsense ever again in your life. - He murmured to her. - You and our daughter are everything in my life, and although I wish to have more children, if we had no more besides Rhaenys I would be the happiest man in this cursed land for having you.

-To issi issa glaeson. - He sighed as he tucked a lock of Y/n's hair behind her ear.

-What does that mean? - She asked slightly emotional.

-You are my life. - He repeated, looking firmly into her eyes as he squeezed her hands in his. - And there is nothing I value more than you and our byka sõvion.

He smirked as he looked at Rhaenys who had laid down and was now trying to shove her own foot into her mouth while spluttering and laughing.

-You know me better than anyone else, wife, and I'm honest when I tell you that I've never been happier in my entire life than I am now. Our family brings me joy.

The smile on Y/n's face could warm even those beyond the wall as she jumped on her husband and hugged him happily.

-I love you, husband. - She sighed against his neck, Aemond didn't respond, but he never responded, at least not with those exact words, his heart was much more complex than that.

More moons passed, and Aemond became increasingly enchanted by his daughter, his eyes shining with each evolution and discovery that the little girl made. He never wanted to miss anything, he liked to be there for every little new thing and he made it clear to Y/n that she should call him anytime and that's what she did on one special day.

-Send for my husband! As soon as possible. - Y/n hissed at one of the maids who was passing by the hallway. The young woman nodded and ran without even looking back towards the training courtyard to look for the prince.

-Your grace, forgiveness for the interruption. - The girl said, looking at the ground. - But your wife urgently requested your presence.

Aemond's chest was briefly breathless when he heard that, and without caring about anything else, he dropped his sword on the floor and ran towards his own chambers.

He entered the room calling for his wife with wide eye, but his expression changed from fear to curiosity when he saw her with her index finger against her lips in a clear sign of silence for him, while with her other hand she pointed to the foot of the sofa where Rhaenys was standing for the first time as she tried to walk on her own.

Aemond's jaw dropped, and he felt tears coming to his eye, his little girl was almost walking.

-You forgot. - Y/n smiled and gently pulled off her husband's eyepatch, throwing it on the table. She had convinced him not to wear it around Rhaenys. At first he hesitated, but it proved to be a good thing since the little girl was completely enchanted by the sparkle of the sapphire in her father's eye, always reaching out her hands towards him and gently rubbing the area while she babbled. And Aemond wouldn't admit it out loud, but that small gesture of affection made him feel loved in a whole new way that he had never felt before.

Still with tears in his eye, Aemond turned away he slowly approached the couch as he crouched down next to his daughter, who, upon seeing him, screamed with excitement and took an excited step towards him. And as if all of this wasn't the most magical thing that had ever happened to him, Rhaenys began to babble as she tried to walk towards her father.

-Ke - She babbled waving her free hand towards him and Aemond felt his heart warm. - Ke-pa.

-Konir sagon paktot byka sõvion, māzigon tosh kepa. (That's right, my little butterfly, come with daddy) - He whispered to his daughter with a slightly cloudy voice.

-Kepah! - She screamed in that sweet baby voice as she took her hand off the couch to clap her hands and before she could fall on her butt on the floor, Aemond caught her, preventing her from falling while two tears ran down his eye. Rhaenys looked at him with wide eyes, a little scared after almost falling, but Aemond caressed her back affectionately, calming her.

-Ziry iksos byka sõvion, kepa kessa dōrī ivestragī ao ropagon. (It's okay, little butterfly, daddy will never let you fall.) - He smiled as more tears fell and Rhaenys looked at him enchanted as she once again caressed the sapphire attached to her father's eye. - Dõrī. (Never) - He reaffirmed with a look of pure love.

Rhaenys had said her first words and Y/n did not understand what her husband was saying to her daughter, just a few words that he had already taught her and the sweet nickname he gave Rhaenys, but her heart was so warm that Y/n thought it might be on fire. She could see the love overflowing from her husband's eyes in an uncontrollable way and at that moment Lady Y/n knew that only she and her little Rhaenys were enough.

About a moon later Aemond decided it was time to introduce his daughter to Vhagar. And after a short trip in the house on wheels and a walk along the edge of the royal forest they arrived at the immense dragon. Y/n already knew her, she had even flown on Vhagar with Aemond, but even so she was a little afraid for Rhaenys, something that she told herself was completely unfounded because of all the people in the world she knew that the only one who would never do anything that could put her Rhaenys at risk was Aemond.

The prince had barely approached the dragon with his daughter and she was already looking at him curiously, still with her head lying on the meadow. And while Aemond spoke to her in Valyrian, Y/n just smiled in love, the smile only got bigger after Rhaenys laughed and screamed as she took her little hands to caress the dragon's scales while babbling some incoherent things to her father.

-She'll be a formidable dragon rider one day. - Aemond stated seriously as he smiled sideways at his wife who just rolled her eyes unable to imagine her little girl on a beast that size, but she knew she had to get used to the idea, she was a Targaryen after all.

-If she's as good as her father, she'll be the best of them all. - Y/n smiled as she caressed her husband's back and left a kiss against her daughter's soft hair.

At the answer, Aemond smiled and pulled her by the waist closer to him and his daughter while leaving a sweet kiss on her lips.

-You've told me more than once that you're not brave. - He murmured against her lips as he gently brushed his own lips against hers. - But you were brave to love me when no one else tried. Thank you for being everything I wanted, everything I needed.

After saying that he extended a small flower with blue petals to her and smiled a little shyly as he made Rhaenys more comfortable in his arms.

And with tears in her eyes, Lady Y/n reached out and took the small, soft flower between her fingers, then hugged him and her smiling daughter, knowing that in her husband's strange and rigid language, that was an I love you.

Since Aemond was courageous enough to ride huge dragons, engage in sword duels and so many other dangerous things, but simple words terrified him. She didn't need them, she knew how to read her husband's heart, eyes and actions that told Y/n every hour of every day that he loved her, and even if he didn't love her, she was brave enough to love for both of them.

And with that thought she smiled and kissed him sweetly on the lips as she held both him and her precious Rhaenys close, her beloved most precious possessions.

[kdyq]

Let me teach you baby

Context: Ambessa teaches you how to fight.

Ambessa x Fem!reader

The training courtyard was alive with the hum of insects and the faint rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. Ambessa stood in the center her arms crossed and her gaze locked on you. Unlike the sword fighting lessons you’d expected today was about raw combat the kind Ambessa herself had perfected over a lifetime.

“Hand to hand combat is personal” Ambessa said her deep voice steady. “It’s about power precision and control. Forget elegance. Forget weapons. Your body is your weapon.”

You took a deep breath flexing your fingers. “So… we’re just going to hit each other?”

Ambessa’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Not each other. You’ll hit me and I’ll show you what you’re doing wrong.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like an unfair fight.”

“It is,” she said simply. “But you’ll learn.”

The first thing Ambessa had you do was practice your stance.

“You’re too stiff.” she observed, circling you like a predator stalking prey. Her golden eyes flicked to your feet. “Spread your stance. Center your weight. If you can’t balance you can’t fight.”

You adjusted planting your feet as she instructed. “Like this?”

“Better” she said stepping closer. Without warning she shoved your shoulder hard making you stumble. “But not good enough.”

“Hey!” you protested regaining your footing.

She shrugged. “A real opponent won’t wait for you to get comfortable. Again.”

You sighed but tried again this time bracing yourself. When Ambessa pushed you again you held your ground.

“There” she said a hint of approval in her tone. “Now you’re ready to throw a punch.”

“Keep your fists up” Ambessa instructed demonstrating the proper form. Her movements were fluid and so smooth. Her fists raised just high enough to guard her face while leaving room to strike. “Like this. Protect your head and stay loose. You’re not a statue you’re a predator.”

You mimicked her stance your fists feeling awkward and heavy. “I don’t feel like a predator” you admitted.

Ambessa smirked. “Not yet. But you will.”

She motioned for you to throw a punch. You hesitated then swung your fist toward her. Ambessa caught your wrist midswing her grip firm but not painful.

“Too slow” she said. “You’re telegraphing your moves. Watch my eyes. Anticipate my next move before you make yours.”

“That’s easy for you to say” you muttered pulling your hand back. “You’ve been doing this forever.”

Ambessa chuckled. “True. But I didn’t start out perfect. I had to learn just like you.”

Her words gave you a spark of determination. You shifted your weight focused on her stance and tried again. This time your punch was faster and though Ambessa blocked it her expression shifted ever so slightly.

“Better” she said nodding. “But you can still hit harder.”

The session continued with Ambessa teaching you how to dodge block and counter. Each time she corrected you her tone was firm but never harsh. She pushed you to your limits but there was a quiet encouragement in her gaze that kept you going.

By the time the sun began to set, you were drenched in sweat your muscles aching. Ambessa handed you a towel her expression softened by a rare smile.

“You did well today” she said her deep voice warm. “You’ve got more strength than you realize.”

You wiped your face managing a tired grin. “You’re just saying that because I didn’t pass out.”

Ambessa laughed in a low rich sound that made your exhaustion feel worth it. “No I’m saying it because it’s true. But don’t get cocky. You’ve still got a lot to learn.”

“Does that mean we’re doing this again tomorrow?” you asked half dreading the answer.

She stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours as she took the towel back. “Every day until you can hold your own”she said her tone serious. “I don’t train people halfway.”

You looked up at her feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and gratitude. “Thanks, Ambessa. For taking the time to do this.”

Her gaze softened and she placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s not just about training. It’s about making sure you’re ready for anything. And I’ll always make time for you.”

As the two of you left the training grounds together, the ache in your body was tempered by the growing bond between you and Ambessa. She wasn’t just teaching you how to fight she was teaching you how to find strength in yourself.

And for that you couldn’t thank her enough.

“THE END”

AN/ That mini series is taking me a while but here’s something I always wanted to write about.

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; you infiltrate makarov's lair. pain ignites fury, and you deliver a scalding promise—one he won’t forget.

⚠️ warnings; graphic depictions of violence and blood

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The mirror reflected a calm exterior, but beneath the surface, your heart raced with anticipation. You adjusted the sleek black dress one last time, the fabric hugging your form like a second skin. The look was sharp and perfect for the night ahead.

You sat at the small vanity, a small bottle of nail polish rested beside you, its deep, glossy shade matching the intensity of your outfit. You steadied your hand, brushing the polish onto your nails with deliberate focus, each stroke precise and smooth.

When you finished, you blew softly on your nails, letting the sheen catch the light for a moment before setting the brush down, briefly looking around the room as you waited for the polish to dry off for completely.

Everywhere around you was a testament to the work you and König had put into the plan. A table nearby was cluttered with equipment—various concoctions, spare ammunition, and a few items for contingencies you hoped you wouldn’t need. Among the chaos, a detailed map of the club lay spread out, corners weighed down with stray tools. 

Behind you, König appeared before dropping into one knee. “Hold still,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he carefully slid the strap of your heel over your foot.

His hands, so large they practically enveloped the delicate shoe, moved with surprising gentleness. The buckle clicked into place, and he adjusted the strap to sit just right before reaching for the other.

“König,” you said softly, watching him through the mirror.

He glanced up briefly, his pale eyes meeting yours through his mask, and then returned to his task. “I still don’t like this,” he muttered.

“You’ve made that clear,” you replied with a faint smile, resting a hand on his shoulder for balance as he fastened the second shoe.

When he was done, he stood, towering over you. His brows furrowed even further as he caught sight of the dagger holder strapped to your thigh beneath the dress.

“Let me see,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sighed but lifted the hem of your dress slightly, revealing the sleek leather strap secured around your leg. The dagger sheath was snug, but König crouched again, checking the fit like a craftsman perfecting his work. His fingers brushed against your skin as he tightened the strap just a notch, ensuring it wouldn’t slip during the mission.

“Too tight?” he asked, his voice softer now, his gaze flicking up to yours.

“It’s fine,” you assured him just as softly.

He didn’t move for a moment, his hands lingering on your leg, as if debating whether to say something more. Finally, he stood again, his towering presence making you feel both small but protected.

You smoothed your dress back down and turned to the mirror, adjusting your earrings as you spoke. “I’ll go in and blend with the crowd. Makarov’s likely to be well-guarded, so I need to keep a low profile until he makes an appearance.”

“The dagger is already planted in the bathroom,” König interjected, his tone clipped. “Getting it back shouldn’t take long, but—”

“I know,” you cut in, meeting his gaze through the reflection. “Once I have it, the real challenge begins: getting him alone. He won’t make that easy.”

König’s frown deepened, and his hands twitched as if resisting the urge to grab you and pull you back from this entirely. “And you’re sure about this?”

You turned to face him fully, resting your hands on his chest. “I trust you to stay close, in your own way. We agreed on that. If something goes wrong, you’ll know.”

“Right….Sybil will alert me if it does,” König muttered, his gaze dropping for a moment as Sybil, ever-watchful, padded silently across the room to sit by your side. Her dark eyes glinted as she nuzzled your leg.

“Exactly,” you replied, stroking Sybil’s soft fur. “She’ll use our connection to let you know if I need you. But I can’t do this with you breathing down my neck the entire time, König. We have to play it smart.”

He exhaled heavily, his hands found your waist, holding you firmly as he stared down at you. “If he so much as looks at you wrong—”

“You’ll know,” you promised as you patted his hand over the curve of your hip, your voice softer now. “And you’ll do what you do best.”

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the muffled hum of the world outside. Then König nodded, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Be careful,” he said, his voice rough.

“I will. Now let’s finish getting ready. Makarov won’t wait forever.”

. . .

The car slowed to a stop a block away from the club. Even from here, the heavy bass of the music was palpable, vibrating through the cool night air.

König’s gaze was fixed ahead, his grip tight on the steering wheel. For once, his usual mask was absent, his sharp features faintly visible in the dim light spilling through the windshield. The shadows of the streetlights and car interior kept most of his face obscured, but the darkness couldn’t completely hide the tension etched into his expression.

You had told him not to do it—removing the mask wasn’t necessary, you’d said. You knew how much it meant to him, how it was his ultimate comfort, his shield. But König had made the decision on his own.

He knew wearing it would draw too much attention, especially here. With his towering frame and intimidating presence, he already stood out more than enough. The mask would have been a beacon, and that was something neither of you could afford.

Even now, as the shadows concealed most of his face, you could feel the unease radiating from him. His jaw clenched tightly, his pale eyes flicking toward you for a moment before returning to the road.

“Stay sharp,” he said, his voice carrying that protective edge you’d come to expect.

“I will,” you assured him, turning to Sybil in the backseat. The white-furred Borzoi tilted her head, watching you with an expression that was both serene and perceptive.

Bending closer, you planted a quick kiss on her forehead. When you pulled back, you noticed the faint lipstick mark left behind on her pristine fur. You laughed softly, your nerves easing just a bit. “Sorry, girl. Guess you’re part of the disguise now.”

Sybil blinked at you, her long tail thumping heavily at your tone. 

König, however, wasn’t too amused. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered, his voice a low rumble. “I’ll be close.”

You stepped out of the car, your heels clicking against the pavement, and turned back to give him a small wave. “I know. We’ve got this.”

The street buzzed with life, partygoers laughing and chatting in clusters as they moved toward the entrance. The dress, the heels, the way you carried yourself—it all screamed that you belonged here.

The line for Konni stretched down the block, a clear testament to its popularity. The music from inside thudded through the air, mingling with the lively chatter of the crowd waiting to get in. You honed in on a group of girls standing just ahead of you in line, their sparkling outfits catching the glow of the streetlights. One of them laughed loudly, her bold red lipstick standing out against her pale skin. Bingo.

“That lipstick is amazing,” you said warmly, leaning toward her with a friendly smile. “What shade is that? It’s perfect on you.”

The girl blinked in surprise, then lit up at the compliment. “Oh my god, thank you! It’s Riot Red! Do you want to try it?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wish I could pull it off like you can. Seriously, you look incredible.”

Another girl in the group chimed in, flipping her curls over her shoulder. “No way, you’d look amazing in it. And that dress? You’re killing it.”

You waved a hand dismissively, giving a soft laugh. “You’re sweet. Honestly, I was nervous about coming out tonight, but you guys are making me feel so much better already.”

The first girl grinned and linked her arm through yours without hesitation. “Girl, you’re with us now. We’ve got you.”

The group’s energy was infectious, their chatter and laughter making it easy to blend in. You joined in their conversation, throwing out compliments and jokes that kept the mood light and carefree. As the line shuffled forward, you felt yourself being folded effortlessly into their circle. The bouncer glanced over the group and waved you all through without much hesitation, clearly accustomed to the dynamic of excited, glamorous groups showing up together.

The heavy bass hit you first, reverberating through your chest and pulling you into the club’s electric atmosphere. The lighting was dim and moody, with sharp beams of red and white cutting through the haze of smoke and swirling shadows.

On the far wall behind the bar, the club’s logo loomed large, its eerie design catching the occasional flicker of light. The snake’s skull, menacing and jagged, was crossed from top to bottom by a dagger. Its sharp simplicity made it both unnerving and impossible to ignore. The entire space seemed to echo the symbol’s vibe—sleek and dangerous.

Snakes coiled through the décor in subtle ways, their imagery etched into the mirrored panels behind the bar and wrapped around the bases of the industrial steel light fixtures. Even the bar top gleamed with designs of serpentine scales, the texture faint under the drinks and shifting hands of patrons.

The girls pulled you toward the bar, their laughter and easy energy blending seamlessly with the beat of the music. Their chatter and laughter provided the perfect cover, drawing attention away from you and onto their sparkling outfits and bold personalities.

Still, a flicker of guilt twisted in your chest. These human girls weren’t just a tool for the night—they were kind hearted, naïve in a way that made you feel protective. As you moved through the throng of bodies, you kept them close, flashing an easy smile before leaning in to speak just loud enough to be heard over the pulsing bass.

“Hey, just a quick reminder,” you said, pitching your tone to sound casual but warm, leaning in toward the group as you all shuffled forward in line. “Don’t drink anything someone hands you tonight. Only take what you get straight from the bar, okay?”

One of the girls raised an eyebrow, her glossy lips curving into a knowing smile. “Of course. Duh.”

Another chimed in, rolling her eyes playfully. “Please, we already know that one. This isn’t our first rodeo.”

Their laughter was light, confident, but you could see a flicker of acknowledgment in their eyes.

Still, you smiled back and leaned in slightly. “Good,” you said, your voice dropping just enough to add a hint of seriousness. “Just be careful, girlies. It’s common sense, but places like this…you never know.”

Your grin turned playful again to soften the moment, and they laughed with you, their chatter quickly picking up where it left off. Despite their bravado, you noticed one or two of them glancing at their drinks a little more thoughtfully. Good. At least they’d think twice now.

With their attention pulled back into the lively atmosphere, you allowed your own focus to shift. You moved with them toward the dance floor, your eyes floating upward as casually as possible to the VIP room. Perched like a foreboding crow’s nest above the chaos, it loomed dark and shadowed, its one-way glass concealing its occupants from the prying eyes below. The tinted panes offered privacy, but you could still spot faint movement inside—the shifting silhouettes of figures leaning and gesturing.

Still, you forced yourself to look away, letting your expression remain light and carefree, matching the girls’ as they laughed and swayed to the beat of the music. 

The night unfolded smoothly as the drinks flowed, and you made sure to keep them coming, careful to never take too much for yourself. The bartender seemed unimpressed at first, but as you discreetly slid larger and larger bills across the bar, his demeanor shifted.

Eventually, he placed a drink in front of you—a glittering concoction in a tall glass with a swirl of smoky liquid that caught the red light overhead. Nestled beneath the base of the glass, barely visible, was a sleek black card. Without the bartender noticing, you dumped it into a nearby plant, keeping the card to yourself. A quick glance confirmed what you already suspected: it was access to the VIP section.

You turned back to the girls, who were swaying to the music and laughing, and leaned in close to their circle. “Hey, let’s hit the bathroom, yeah?” You suggested with a grin, loud enough to be heard over the pounding bass.

They nodded eagerly, and together you made your way through the packed dance floor to the restrooms. Once inside, the bright, sterile lighting felt jarring after the club’s shadowy ambiance. The girls chattered amongst themselves, touching up their makeup and fussing over their hair, while you slipped into one of the stalls.

You knelt down, sliding your hand behind the loose panel where the dagger was supposed to be. Instead of the reassuring weight of the weapon, your fingers met nothing but smooth, empty space. Your heart skipped a beat, panic bubbling up. You patted the space again, as if the dagger could materialize if you just tried hard enough. Nothing.

For a long moment, you stared at the panel, your pulse thundering in your ears. No weapon. No fallback. König had said it would be here—he promised. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, steadying your shaking hands. Panicking now would only make things worse. 

You had to improvise.

Sliding the panel back into place, you stood and smoothed your dress, your movements deliberate. You couldn’t afford to let your nerves show. You emerged from the stall to find the girls still preoccupied, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” you said lightly, your voice pitched perfectly to sound casual. They didn’t question you, too absorbed in their own banter to notice you slipping out of the bathroom alone.

The black card felt heavier in your hand now as you approached the staircase to the VIP section. The bouncer’s sharp eyes landed on you briefly, but the card was enough to grant you passage without a word.

Each step upward felt like it stretched forever, the muffled sounds of the club below fading into a muted afterthought. That familiar, sickening sensation crept over you—the same one you’d felt around Leah all those weeks ago, only far stronger here. The air was thick and oppressive, charged with something dark and vile. It twisted your stomach, but you shoved the feeling aside.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

At the top of the stairs, the VIP section unfolded before you, a luxurious den of decadence. Dim red lighting cast long, menacing shadows over plush leather couches and low tables scattered with untouched drinks. The hum of low conversation and private laughter buzzed faintly in the air.

And there, at the center of it all, was Makarov.

He sat like a king on his throne, reclined in a sleek leather armchair with an air of effortless arrogance. His sharp features were illuminated by the dim, blood-red lighting—the angular planes of his face exaggerated by the shadows, making him look more predator than man. His dark hair was neatly combed back, and the contrast between his polished appearance and the grotesque menace he exuded was unsettling, making the room feel even colder.

Surrounding him were men and women alike, all undeniably vampires. They stood and watched with the same unnatural grace—too perfect, too controlled. It was clear that every person in the room served one purpose: to feed Makarov’s ego and protect his rule.

Keeping your composure, you let your eyes sweep the room, as though taking it all in with detached curiosity. You knew you were being watched—eyes flicking to you with interest, hunger, and something darker.

You moved with confidence, choosing an empty seat that gave you a clear view of the room while placing you within arm’s reach of Makarov’s position. The luxurious leather felt cool beneath you as you crossed your legs, projecting ease you didn’t feel.

It didn’t take long for one of Makarov’s companions to approach. A woman, tall and striking, with dark skin and a predatory glint in her eyes, sashayed over to you. Without a word, she slid onto your lap, one bare leg draped possessively over yours.

“Well, aren’t you interesting,” she purred, her sharp nails tracing a slow line down your shoulder.

Succubus.

You forced a coy smile, letting her linger. Play along. Blend in.

Her laughter was low and rich, her fingers curling briefly around your chin as she leaned in closer. Her nails were sharp, painted a glossy black that matched the sleek fabric of her gown. The scent of her perfume—sickly sweet, with an underlying metallic tang—was cloying as she hovered just inches from your face.

“Let me get us something… special.” she purred, her voice dripping with amusement.

With a graceful wave of her hand, she summoned a man from the shadows—a server carrying a tray of drinks that sparkled faintly under the dim lights. He approached swiftly, bowing his head slightly as he placed the tray on the table in front of you.

She plucked one of the crystal glasses from the tray, her long fingers wrapping delicately around the stem as she swirled the crimson liquid inside. Her eyes flicked back to you, glinting with something predatory, and a slow smile spread across her lips.

“Here,” she said, holding the glass to your lips as though feeding a lover. “Try this. It’s… divine.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment, the weight of her gaze and the oppressive atmosphere of the room pressing down on you. Refusing wasn’t an option—not here, not now. With a carefully crafted smile, you allowed her to tilt the glass, the cold liquid brushing your lips as you sipped.

The taste was strange, rich and coppery, sending a chill down your spine. It took all your willpower to keep your expression neutral, to meet her gaze with a coquettish smile instead of the unease clawing at your insides.

Her laughter bubbled again as she set the glass down, leaning even closer until her lips were near your ear. “Good, isn’t it?” she murmured, her hand tracing the edge of your jaw.

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over the both of you. Makarov’s presence was immediate, suffocating, as he stepped closer.

He waved her off with a dismissive gesture, and she immediately slipped off your lap, her sultry demeanor replaced by something obedient and servile. She shot you one last lingering glance before disappearing into the shadows of the room.

Makarov took the now-vacant spot beside you, leaning back leisurely as if he owned the entire world. His presence was overwhelming up close, the stench of blood and decay mingling with the faint trace of expensive cologne.

“It’s about time you got here,” he said smoothly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His smile widened, sharp and wolfish.

Your pulse kicked up in your ears. It was only then that you noticed—somehow, without you realizing it, the room had emptied. The other figures who had been laughing and drinking moments ago were gone, leaving you completely alone with him.

Makarov leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, menacing rumble. “I can smell your fear,” he said, his gaze burning into you. “And I can’t wait to taste it.”

Your breath caught, but you didn’t look away, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

“But first,” he continued, his tone almost playful now, “I wanted to know—did you enjoy my little present?”

The cold realization settled in your stomach like a stone. He was talking about Leah. The parasite.

“I thought it was fitting,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “In the end, it was all for the best, wasn’t it? I rid you of an incapable group of men. They were... distractions, holding you back.”

Your nails dug into the soft leather of the seat as his words sank in, rage battling nausea in your chest. Makarov leaned closer, his grin widening, his teeth gleaming faintly in the dim light.

“You should be thanking me,” he murmured. “Don’t you think?”

Before you could respond, his demeanor shifted in an instant, the calm arrogance replaced by a sudden, terrifying violence. His hand shot out, gripping your arm like a vice, and before you could react, he slammed you against the crystal table by you feet.

The force sent everything on it crashing to the ground—glassware shattered into jagged pieces, scattering across the floor like ice shards. A sharp edge sliced across your arm as you instinctively tried to brace yourself, and you couldn’t stifle the grunt of pain that escaped your lips.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Makarov was on you, his weight pressing down as you scrambled to push yourself free. The crimson light overhead bathed his face, highlighting the feral hunger in his eyes as he leaned closer, trapping you further.

“You’re so clever, aren’t you?” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom as his grip tightened. “The dagger. Those two mutts outside. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

Your blood ran cold. “What—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Makarov interrupted, his smirk widening as his dark eyes bored into yours. “Your precious hound and that oversized brute you left lurking in the shadows? They’ve already been dealt with. Did you really think you could waltz in here and catch me off guard?”

“And running back to the coven,” he spat, his lips curling in disdain. “How predictable. But for me, the seed was already planted. I knew you’d come. I knew your temper, your pride, your weakness.”

His hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he spoke, his tone turning mockingly soft. “You still love them, don’t you? The pack. Pathetic as they are. That love—it’s a chain, binding you to them. And I took full advantage of it.”

Your nails scraped against the slick surface of the shattered table, your mind racing for a way out as his words sunk in.

“You’re nothing but a puppet,” he growled, his face inches from yours now. “And you danced perfectly for me.”

Before you could scramble away, Makarov moved with terrifying speed, shoving you down to the floor. The impact sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you as shards of glass dug into your skin, the cold, jagged edges biting deep. You gasped, your hands instinctively trying to push him off, but he was relentless.

He loomed over you for a moment, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph. Then, to your shock, he dropped to his knees, his movements eerily graceful despite the chaos.

Glass crunched under his weight as he knelt, uncaring of the jagged edges slicing into his legs and palms. Blood welled briefly where the shards pierced his flesh, but the injuries healed almost instantly, sealing themselves as if they’d never existed.

Pinned beneath him, you twisted and struggled, your breath ragged as you tried to claw at his arms, his face—anything to create distance. But Makarov was immovable, his grip iron-tight as he held you in place.

His lips curled into a cruel smile, his voice a low, taunting growl. “You’ve been fighting so hard,” he murmured, his gaze boring into yours. “But it’s over now.”

Before you could muster a response or another desperate attempt to free yourself, his head dipped low, and his teeth sank into the curve of your neck.

Pain exploded through you, sharp and searing, as if fire had replaced your blood. Your body arched involuntarily, a cry caught in your throat as his fangs tore into your skin. The world tilted, the room spinning in a haze of crimson and agony.

Your body trembled, each beat of your heart pushing more blood into his greedy mouth. But even as the agony burned, you focused as your bloodied hands moved with purpose, curling around a jagged shard of crystal glass. The rage bubbling in your chest was impossible to contain. It surged, hot and molten, drowning out the pain and fear.

As he took his first deep gush, savoring the rush of your blood, you moved. With all the strength you could muster, you drove the shard into his neck, the jagged glass sinking deep into the pale flesh just below his jaw.

Makarov’s smirk faltered, the smugness on his face twisting into confusion. At first, he barely reacted, his arrogance shining through. Physical blows didn’t faze him—he’d been through countless fights, shrugged off countless attacks.

But then the wound began to ache. The ache turned into a burn, a searing pain that spread like wildfire. His eyes widened in shock, the smugness melting into something raw and he felt…..

Fear.

He tried to pull away, his hands pushing against your shoulders to break free, but you clung to him with all your might.

“Oh no,” you hissed through gritted teeth, your voice shaking with barely contained fury. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Your fingers dug into the wound, twisting the shard deeper as his regeneration faltered. You could feel the slickness of your blood mixing with his as you pressed harder, your nails scraping against the flesh.

Makarov let out a low growl, his movements turning frantic as realization dawned. He could feel it—the poison seeping into his veins, halting the regenerative abilities he relied on. Your nails, coated with the blend your mother and Horangi had painstakingly prepared, tore at the flesh around the shard, ensuring the concoction spread.

His growl turned into a ragged snarl, his hands clawing at you weakly as the pain consumed him. “What… have you… done?” he rasped, his voice choked with disbelief and rage.

“You want to know what I’ve done?” you snapped, your voice rising, your fury unleashed. “This is my real temper, you bastard!"

Your words were scalding, each one sharper than the shard in your hand. “You said you knew me. That you planted the seed, that I’d come because of my temper? Well, congratulations—you were right. And now, I’m here.”

You twisted the shard again, your nails digging deeper into his flesh, right where the concoction soaked them. Makarov’s snarl broke into a gasp of pain, his body jerking as the poison coursed through him.

“I promised,” you seethed, leaning closer so he could feel the full force of your rage. “I promised I’d have your head. And I don’t break promises.”

banner credit

[s-4pphics]

make the bed. (e.w.)

“𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃.”

omggg my first writing challenge YIPPPEEEE shoutout to olivia rodrigo

ty to the post-pandemic prose and my babies @elliesbelle and @totheblood for pointers :D love yall down 

wc;cw: 1.1K, just angst YAAAAY, internalized homophobia, ellies so sad :(, mentions of alcohol

“lf I liked girls,” you slurred, your lips brushing against the shell of Ellie’s ear, the pounding speakers synched with the squeezes in her chest, “I swear t’god… you’d be mine.” 

Whenever you drunkenly murmur to her like this, Ellie wishes she didn’t hear you; She was shocked she could over the ruckus happening all around, rattling the bubble she created for the two of you. You always sounded so sure with your lies. They never fail to throw her into fight or flight mode. She tensed and her stomach churned in despair. 

“Y’so perfect, Ellie. Love y’so… fuckin’ much. All mine.” 

All she could do was nod and whirl you around with a pained smile before burying it into your clothed shoulder. You didn’t bat an eye; You were always the affectionate drunk. 

But she wanted to scream. To cry and beg and ask — demand that you fall into her right where you stand. To love her the way she’s loved you since she showed you how to ride a bicycle in elementary school. She flinched at every delicate kiss you planted on her neck, her hands squeezing at your hips. She doesn’t know if she wants to push or pull you closer. 

She knows. Her arms enclosed around your waist and you giggle into her skin. 

This is exactly how you two should be. She’s envisioned it since middle school: completely infatuated and engulfed in each other, secluded off in your own little world filled with nothing but solace. Closeness. Affection and desire. 

So why was she sick to her stomach at your scent? Lavender and sage no longer brought her the comfort that they used to in adolescence. She was being torn apart from the inside out, but she couldn’t scream. 

She only listened, digested every drunk fallacy that you directed to her in secret. With no one watching. No one ever watched. No one could know. That was your only rule when she climbed through your window months prior. Please just keep it between us, you’d whispered before leaning in to kiss her. 

At least Ellie could imagine that this was real as she held you tight: recreate the same image in her mind over and over. The two of you are together and happy to be in love with no selfishness or regrets in her mind. All she had to do was close her eyes, and you were all hers, just like you said. She’s so, so in love with you. 

But you didn’t want her. You never did. 

She’s instantly reminded of that day a few months ago. The memory feels like a ghost over her shoulder; Maybe that’s why she’s constantly peeking over it, picking at it with her nails. 

The two of you often reserved study rooms during exam season for review, but you had other plans. You were exactly where you were supposed to be — room 213 — but you weren’t by yourself. 

You — beautiful, as always — brought… friends. Friends that Ellie knew, that you knew, didn’t like her. She never actually talked to them, but she always felt… off. She was instantly riddled with anxiety, the books that she checked out ten minutes ago almost hitting the floor as her arms weakened. Sweat pebbled on her forehead as she stood and watched everyone stare at her. 

Why did it look like they were all laughing? She couldn’t hear any chuckles, but there was laughter. Someone’s laughing at her. Do they know? You have to know, but do they know about the two of you? About how Ellie feels—

Ellie? you’d called. 

… Mhm? she recalls almost fainting. 

Your eyes were confused; You knew something was off, and it made her even more nervous. 

Sit down, honey. Come meet everyone. You made sure to massage her knee under the table; It always soothed her. 

The introductions were surprisingly smooth. Ellie never expected your friends to be so polite considering how rowdy they seemed outside of class. She was pleasantly surprised and put at ease. Until the end of your study session. 

Everyone was packing their bags and cracking jokes. Ellie even got a couple laughs out of some of them during the quiet few hours. 

Ellie wasn’t sure what came over her, but she eased closer to you, still gathering your books. She relaxed at your scent. When you turned to face her with that gentle smile, her mouth moved on autopilot. 

I missed you so much. You never hit me back last night.  

Maybe it was the way Ellie said it. She shouldn’t have looked into your eyes the way she did, whispered to you like that, said she missed you with so much devotion. But she did, and she wished she didn’t. 

Your smile turned to worry instantaneously, and Ellie’s heart plummeted when your head whipped around the room to check if anyone heard before turning back to her. No one cared. 

Ellie felt like she’d been stabbed. It happened so quickly; she probably would’ve missed it if she blinked. Her nails dug into the hardcover of her books, tears jerking in her eyes before she tossed a stiff see you guys later over her shoulder and rushed out the room. You tried to grab her arm, but she shoved you off. She had to fight her instincts so she wouldn’t turn around and apologize for being too rough. 

She got back to her dorm and… trashed it while she cried. Disgust and anger flooded her system while she threw her clothes, her trinkets, the photo of you, Ellie, and her mother at your shared high school graduation across the room (she only sobbed harder when she noticed it cracked when it hit the floor). The emotions that rushed through her weren’t even for you, but for herself. Ellie’s own hope destroyed her, and she only has herself to blame. 

She should’ve known at the time to never speak to you again, but she loved you. She loves you. Every fiber, every cell of her being lived to see you at your happiest; It’s tortuous how you expose the darkest parts that she wished to keep hidden until the end of time. She hasn’t felt like this since she was a teenager. 

And yet, she still swayed you. Kept you close so she could breathe you in. This is the most you allow, at least: physical touch. She knew better than to allow you to mistreat her, but she couldn’t leave you. You both danced until your legs burned, and you fell into her bed the same night. 

She forced herself to lay in the massacred mattress that she’d tried to keep made since she was a kid. The least you could do was fluff the pillow you slept on every night.

[oofthwoods]

CHAPTER ONE! ── ˙ ̟ bring home the glory !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: funerals, grief and death. if you don't feel comfortable with these themes, go straight to the part after 2023. you won't lose much, i promise! the second part is somehow based on right hand man from hamilton, don't ask about it. this is pretty much a prologue number two tbh, but i still hope you enjoy it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 3.2k

⭠ previous masterlist next ‭→

2021

In the solemn setting of the cemetery, the sun hung in the sky, seemingly unaware of the grief below. Its golden rays contrasted sharply with the darkness consuming your soul, each beam of light piercing through the heavy clouds of sorrow. As tears streaked your face, the warmth of the sun felt out of place, a painful reminder of the world's indifference to your shattered heart.

Standing beside the graveside, you looked up to the sky, seeking solace in its vastness. But the heavens offered no comfort, no relief from the ache within. You wondered why the sky remained clear, why it didn't reflect the storm of emotions raging inside you. Its serene blue expanse seemed to mock your devastation, its unwavering indifference amplifying your pain.

Your mother and her siblings stood ahead, their shoulders bowed under the weight of grief, their sobs a haunting melody that echoed through the air. But you stood alone, isolated in your sorrow, drowning in memories that threatened to consume you whole.

Memories of your grandfather flooded your mind like a deluge, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had lost. His laughter, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt distant and painful, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. His stories, his wisdom, his gentle touch — they all seemed like distant echoes of a life that was slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

You recalled his final moments, the frailty of his form, the sadness in his eyes as he whispered his last words to you. "Be proud of who you are," he had said, his voice barely a whisper, his breath brushing against your cheek. "And never forget where you come from. Your roots are your strength, my dear." His words had been a lifeline in the storm of your grief, a reminder of the legacy he had left behind, of the love that would endure long after he was gone.

As you stood beside his grave, the words offered little solace. They felt empty, a faint reminder of the warmth once found in his embrace. You longed to reach out to him, to feel the warmth of his touch one last time, to beg for just a moment more in his comforting presence. But he was gone, lost to you forever in a world that seemed infinitely colder and darker without him.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely as you whispered your silent goodbyes to him, each word a prayer for his eternal peace. But even as you spoke, you knew that no amount of tears could ever hope to fill the void he had left behind, that no words could ever hope to capture the depth of your loss.

As you stood there, lost in your grief, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. You turned to see your mother returning, her eyes red and swollen from tears, her expression etched with the same pain that weighed heavily on your own heart. For a moment, you simply stood there, sharing a silent understanding born from the depths of your shared sadness.

Without a word, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, her arms providing solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. "I'm not sure I can go on without him, Mom," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you buried your face against her shoulder.

Her embrace tightened, her fingers gently combing through your hair. "I feel the same way, sweetheart. But we have to find strength, for his sake," she whispered softly, her words tinged with a mixture of sadness and determination.

As you leaned into her embrace, the weight of your grief seemed to press down upon you, threatening to crush you beneath its relentless force. Your mother's presence briefly brought comfort, like a delicate lifeline amidst the stormy sea of emotions swirling inside you.

"I miss him so much already," you confessed with your voice trembling. "It feels like a part of me is missing, like I'll never be whole again."

Her arms tightened around you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone. "I know, my love. I do too," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He was the heart of our family, the glue that held us together."

A bittersweet silence fell between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Memories of your grandfather danced through your mind like flickering candle flames, casting shadows of laughter and love against the walls of your grief-stricken heart.

"Do you think he's watching over us?" you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the evening.

Her hand stilled against your hair. "I'd like to think so," she replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'd like to believe that he's found peace, that he's somewhere out there, looking down on us with love in his heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined him, a silent guardian in the heavens above, watching over you with a warmth that transcended the boundaries of life and death. "I hope he knows how much we love him," you whispered, your words a fervent prayer whispered into the vast expanse of the sky.

"I'm sure he does, my dear," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness. "And I know that wherever he is, he'll always be with us, guiding us through the darkness, lighting our way with the love that he left behind."

As your mother's words gently washed over you, a sudden movement caught your eye. In the corner of your vision, a flash of royal blue fluttered amidst the solemn surroundings. You blinked, momentarily startled, before fixing your gaze on the delicate creature that alighted on a nearby branch.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the bird, its feathers shimmering like fragments of the sky woven into living form. With a heart full of wonder, you watched as it stretched its wings, basking in the fading light of the evening sun.

"We can leave now, if you're ready, sweetheart." her mother murmured, delicately turning her daughter's face to meet her own. 

As your mother looked into your eyes, you could see the sadness reflecting in them, speaking volumes on its own. Although she softly hinted that you could go if you wished, it was evident that she longed for some respite from the weight of your mutual grief. Beneath her calm demeanor, you sensed her vulnerability, a silent plea to escape the overpowering sorrow surrounding you both. With a simple nod, you silently agreed.

With a mix of sadness and resolve, you followed your mother's lead, letting her guide you away from the graveside and back into the world. While you walked together, a quick look back caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the scene you were departing. And there, on top of the gravestone, sat the blue bird, its colorful feathers standing out against the solemn surroundings.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you watched the bird, a silent sentinel overlooking the final resting place of your beloved grandfather. He seemed to look at you, and, if birds could smile, you would swear he did.

2023

You find yourself standing outside a closed door, your hand hesitantly reaching out to lightly tap against the wood. The muffled voices from within only add to your uncertainty, but the urgency of speaking with the team principal before the Abu Dhabi sprint pushes you to take action. Whatever discussion awaits behind that door must be significant enough to pull you away from your pre-race meeting with the mechanics.

In the stillness of the hallway, time seems to stretch endlessly as you wait for a response that never comes. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins, you finally muster the courage to grasp the doorknob. Its cool metal provides a fleeting sense of reassurance as you turn it slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest as the door swings open to reveal the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, seated at a table, is Mr. Vowles, engrossed in conversation. Your presence at the threshold goes unnoticed for a moment until you gather your resolve and speak up, your voice barely above a whisper as you address him.

"Mr. Vowles, did you need to see me?" you venture, your words hanging in the air with a hint of uncertainty.

At the sound of your voice, James looks up, his expression softening into a welcoming smile.

"Williams, come in," he says, his warm tone instantly easing your nerves as he gestures for you to enter. "Have you met Sargeant?" he continues, motioning towards a figure standing nearby, their presence previously hidden in the shadows of the room.

As James mentions Logan, it's like a floodgate of memories bursting open, whisking you back to the time when you and Logan shared an unbreakable bond. You were inseparable, navigating the twists and turns of life at the academy with laughter, support, and a shared vision of the future.

But as the competition for a spot in Formula One heated up, your friendship began to strain. What started as friendly competition slowly morphed into something more complicated. The pressure mounted, and with it came a subtle shift in your relationship. Each race seemed to drive a wedge between you, rather than bringing you closer.

It was at the peak of your rivalry that things started to unravel. Every little disagreement or perceived slight seemed to fester, poisoning the once vibrant atmosphere between you. Despite your efforts to keep up appearances, there was an underlying tension that threatened to fracture your bond.

When Logan secured a seat at Williams while you remained in F2, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. Of course, you were genuinely happy for him, but there was also a pang of envy and disappointment gnawing at your heart. It felt like a piece of your own dream slipping away, leaving you grappling with a sense of loss you couldn't quite shake.

And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any more complicated, James hinted at the possibility of you stepping into Logan's shoes. The idea of replacing your friend-turned-competitor added another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of emotions. It was a constant battle between your ambition and the fear of losing the one person who had been by your side through it all.

"Yes, sir," you respond, choosing a simple response. Logan's gaze meets yours, seeming to ignite with intensity. "We keep on meeting"

In a deliberate choice of silence, Logan sidestepped any engagement with you, his eyes fixed on the team leader instead. "As I was just saying," he began, his voice brimming with confidence, "I truly believe that with these adjustments, I can improve my control over the car."

James reciprocated Logan's smile, though his gaze hinted at a wandering mind. "Sargeant?" he interrupted, signaling a shift in focus to another pressing matter.

"Yes, sir?" Sergeant replied promptly, ready for further instructions.

"We'll talk about this later. Close the door on your way out," James commanded, his tone decisive, drawing their exchange to a close.

As Logan's footsteps faltered on his way out, a pang of unease settled in your chest. You couldn't shake the guilt that crept in, knowing your success might come at the cost of his dreams.

In the relentless world of Formula One, sentimentality was a luxury few could afford. You grappled with the harsh reality that success often meant sacrificing the dreams of others. It was a something you had grappled with since the beginning of your journey, one that forced you to confront the truth that in this fiercely competitive arena, there would always be someone waiting in the wings to take your place if you faltered.

As you redirected your focus towards James, the man who now held the reins of your family's team, you couldn't help but reflect on the rarity of such a moment. Conversations with him had been few and far between, a testament to the typical hierarchy within Formula One teams where direct interaction between a team leader and a junior driver, especially mere hours before a pivotal race, was uncommon.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ventured, a tinge of uncertainty coloring your tone.

"Not at all, quite the opposite actually," James responded, rising from his seat and leaning casually against the table, his arms folded. "Your stats this season are impressive—seven wins, numerous podium finishes. You've got a bright future ahead of you. But here's the thing, every day I see offers come across my desk to buy out your contract, and frankly, I find it amusing."

"Uh, sorry, I'm not following," you admitted, furrowing your brow in confusion.

"Williams, why is it that no team seems to be able to snag you?" James clarified, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. "You're undeniably talented, but turning down offers from big names like Alpine and Alpha Tauri might not be the smartest move."

"To drive their tractor, or worse, become a reserve driver? I don't think so." you remarked with a disbelieving smirk.

"Think about it, a spot at Alpha Tauri could open doors at Red Bull down the line," James suggested, attempting to sway your perspective.

"Everyone knows they have their sights set on Daniel Ricciardo, or Liam Lawson at best" you countered, a note of frustration creeping into your voice. "I'm a bit lost here. Why are you laying all this out for me?" you questioned, a perplexed furrow creasing your brow. You knew full well the offers on the table and why you were declining them. James likely wasn't in the dark about your reasons either.

"I'm just being honest with you," He replied, his tone carrying a hint of earnestness. His hand reached up to rub his forehead, fingers tracing over the lines etched there as if seeking solace in the familiar. "We're on a tight budget," he explained, a touch of resignation in his voice. "We're short on engineers and mechanics compared to almost everyone else, except maybe Haas and Sauber. While we've made progress since last year, I can't promise our car will match up to the competition next season."

James lifted his gaze, fixing it upon you with a mixture of earnestness and concern. "I'm not one to squander talent. I know you've got your reasons for sticking with us, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to have you on board. But I can't move forward without ensuring you understand exactly what you're signing up for."

"I'm just asking for a shot, James. Just one chance to prove that we've still got what it takes," you implored, your words tinged with determination. Images of past triumphs flickered through your mind, a reminder of the team's glory days.

With a weary smile, James let out a soft sigh. "Seems like sheer tenacity runs in the family, huh?"

"They used to say I took after my grandmother," you remarked casually, a wistful grin playing on your lips.

Turning to the desk, the man retrieved a piece of paper from a drawer, his movements deliberate and measured. "What are the odds?"

You knew precisely what he was referring to. "Iwasa's already out of the running. If I take the sprint, I'll have enough points to clinch the championship."

Extending the contract towards you, James presented it as if unveiling a glimpse of what lay ahead. "Win this championship, and the seat is yours."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the anticipation that crackled between you. With the contract poised like a tantalizing promise, the room seemed to hold its breath.

You reached out tentatively, fingers hovering over the document that held the potential to shape your future. The paper felt crisp beneath your touch.

"I know it's a risk, trading one rookie for another" James conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "But I believe in you, and I need someone who believes in this team."

A surge of determination coursed through your veins, bolstered by James's unwavering faith. "I won't let you down," you vowed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

"TO TOP OFF AN INCREDIBLE SEASON, Y/N WILLIAMS WINS THE ABU DHABI SPRINT AND HAS ENOUGH POINTS TO CROWN HERSELF A CHAMPION." The narrator's voice reverberated through the sprawling circuit, amplifying the momentous declaration that crowned your achievement.

The roar of victory surged through the airwaves as your race engineer's voice erupted over the radio, a symphony of celebration. "You did it, Williams! Formula 2 champion, with one race to spare!"

Amidst the cacophony of cheers echoing from Rodin Carlin's garage, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the weight of your accomplishment settling upon your shoulders like a mantle of triumph. Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, a torrent of exclamations, gratitude, and tears that threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As you gradually eased the car to a decelerating pace, you couldn't help but feel the swell of pride and disbelief wash over you. With trembling hands, you lifted them skyward in a gesture of reverence, a silent tribute to the one who had inspired you journey.

"This one's for you, grandpa," you murmured, your voice a whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines and jubilant cheers. "I hope you're proud up there."

Amidst the jubilant chaos enveloping the pit lane, your thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm, each emotion vying for dominance in the tumult of your mind. As you joined in the exultant cheers of your team, a sense of disbelief mingled with elation, the reality of your victory sinking in with each heartbeat.

In the midst of the celebration, you couldn't help but steal a moment to glance towards the podium, where your destiny awaited. The anticipation pulsed within you, a heady mixture of excitement and nervous energy propelling youforward.

As you ascended to the highest step, each stride felt like a triumph, a testament to the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice that have led you to this pinnacle moment. Your mind hummed with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a kaleidoscope of memories and aspirations swirling in the depths of your consciousness.

The thunderous roar of the crowd enveloped you like a tidal wave, the sound of applause echoing in your ears as you stand upon the podium, bathed in the radiant glow of the spotlight. Your chest swells with pride, your heart beating in time with the pulsating energy of the spectators.

Locking eyes with James amidst the sea of faces, you feel a surge of excitement washing over you. There's a silent understanding that passes between you, a shared recognition of the journey you will embark upon together. In that fleeting moment, as your gazes meet, you know with a certainty that transcends words— you'll be signing that contract.

With a triumphant smile, you raise the championship trophy high above your head, the weight of your accomplishment buoyed by the unwavering support of your team and your unyielding belief in yourself.

And in the middle of the bustling paddock, a blue bird chirped happily, swooping towards the girl as she lifted the trophy high. It appeared as though he'd be sticking around a while longer.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3 | italic means i couldn't tag you) :: @formulanni @clownrrari @leilanixx @notyouraveragemochii @alliwantisadonut @oooom4rie @watermelon-sugars-things @glitterquadricorn @minkyungseokie @formulaal @itsjustkhaos @thebearchives @hiireadstuff @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cptg00s3 @welovediaaxx @eugene-emt-roe @cha-hot

[birdiewritessometimes]

I’d love if you could do a Fred Weasley x Reader where he comforts the reader for Umbridge harm/quill. Thank you so so much!

A/N: Hi!! I really loved this! I hope i made your vision justice! Thank you so much for requesting <3

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Themes/warnings: Umbridge, pain, the quill-thing, hurt/comfort, fluff (because i love fluff)

Word count: 1500-ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

It had been one of the worst days in your school year yet. You had overslept, missing breakfast and the first 15 minutes of charms. Then you had spilt food on your uniform shirt during lunch, making you rush up to your dorm to change, this made you late for your defence against the dark arts class. You felt the cold familiar feeling of dread rise in your stomach as you hurried along the corridors, already 5 minutes late for Umbridge’s class. You knew you were in for detention, you just hoped it would be normal detention and not detention in her office. You stopped outside the door to the classroom, taking a deep breath you quietly opened the door. You saw that the rest of the class was reading quietly, you groaned inwardly, there was no sneaking in. Then your eyes met the cold ones that belonged to the most hated teacher in this school.

“Miss l/n, care to explain why you’re late?” She asked in that sickeningly sweet voice she always used. You swallowed before walking in, letting the door close behind you.

“I’m so sorry professor, I had to change my shirt, I spilled food on it during lunch.” You mumbled, feeling the embarrassment hit, you noticed that the whole class was watching now. Umbridge cleared her voice in her normal fashion.

“Detention, for a week, now take your seat.” She said making your eyes widen. Sure, you had prepared yourself for detention today not for a week.

“A week? But professor, I’m only 5 minutes late?” You said in disbelief. You don’t know where it came from, you usually didn’t argue with teachers, choosing to keep your head down. A week felt unfair though.

“Miss l/n, sit down before I make it a month.” She said, her eyes glaring at you, but you stood planted at your place by the door.

“But prof-” You didn’t even finish when she interrupted you.

“Enough, miss l/n, my office after dinner.” She then said, that sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. You, however, felt like a bucket of ice water washed over you as you slowly made your way to your seat. Her office. You knew what happened to people who had detention in her office. Your eyes quickly met Harry’s, who gave you a sympathetic look, he out of everyone knew what awaited you. The rest of the afternoon went by in a haze and all you could think about was your detention with Umbridge. After dinner you slowly made your way to her office, that feeling of dread making yet another appearance. You knocked on the door and heard a faint ‘come in’ before you stepped in. Her office was covered in pink and pictures of cats and kittens.

“Good evening miss l/n, you will write some lines for me today.” She said, a wide smile on her face as she gestured for you to sit at a small table in the corner of the office. You went over to the table, bracing yourself for what was to come, you had heard stories of what Umbridge saw as ‘fit punishment’ and how it hurt, you had even seen Harry’s hand after he was sent to her office one time. You swallowed thickly as you sat down on the uncomfortable chair.

“What do you want me to write?” You asked, Umbridge made her way around her desk and walked up to you, placing a quill beside the paper that was laying on the table.

“I want you to write ‘I must not argue with authority’ for as many times as it takes for the message to” she paused, a satisfied smile on her face “sink in.” You nodded and grabbed the quill with great apprehension. You took a deep breath and began to write the line. It took a couple of lines before you could feel the pain form on the back of your left hand. You continued to write the lines, the pain white hot on the back of your hand. You felt the tears pool in your eyes as you wrote in silence, the only noise in the room consisted of Umbridge’s sighs of satisfaction. Around thirty minutes later you stepped out of her office, hand red and raw with tears streaking down your face. You dragged your feet through the deserted corridor, now letting your tears fall freely. Sniffling while clutching your hand you turned a corner and came face to face with the one person you didn’t want to see you like this, Fred Weasley.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like him; it was the exact opposite. You have been crushing on the Weasley boy for quite some time and you didn’t want him to see the mess of tears you were now. Before you could turn around and walk away, he grabbed your arm, his eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, y/n what happened?” He asked, worry evident in his voice. You felt your last resolve crumble when he looked at you with those eyes, his hand large and warm on your cold arm. You let out a hiccup when you showed him your hand, sobs falling freely from your lips now.

“Come here darling.” He said softly, pulling you into a hug, guiding you to sit at a bench in the corridor with him. He softly rubbed your back as you cried into his shoulder, his other hand gently stroking the knuckles on your injured hand.

“Ssshh, it’s going to be fine, it will fade and the hurt will go away.” He said softly before placing a kiss on your hair. He held you in that corridor for you don’t know how long, comforting you as you cried. The frustrations from the day slipping further and further away with Fred’s comforting gestures. Your sobs finally subdued, and you looked up at the boy. He gave you a soft smile.

“There she is.” He said, placing his hand on your cheek, wiping away the remaining tears, his hand lingered on your cheek. You sniffled as you looked up at the older boy, your eyes big in realisation that you cried on Fred Weasleys shoulder. He had in fact seen you as a crying mess.

“I’m sorry” You mumbled in embarrassment as you looked away from his eyes, quickly pulling your hair behind your ears, a habit you did when you were nervous.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, come on, let me clean your hand.” He said, soft smile on his face, as he took your good hand in his larger one as he led you through the castle and to his dorm. He sat you down on what you assumed was his bed as he gathered what he needed to clean your hand. He kneeled in front of you, gently taking your hand before dabbing it with a cotton pad. When you flinched he muttered a low ‘sorry’ before continuing. While you could feel the pain you were more aware of the way he was holding your hand, like it might break. He was trying to be as gentle as he could be as he slowly wrapped your hand to protect it while it heals. You were studying his face as he was wrapping your hand, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his lips in a frown. You were close, so close that you could count each individual eye lash on his eyes. When he finished wrapping your hand he looked up, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Better?” He asked in a low voice, his hands found their home on your thighs as he gave them a squeeze. You gave a slow nod, your eyes never leaving his.

“Thank you, Fred.” You whispered, the atmosphere around you were heavy, you could feel you heart thumping loudly in your ribcage as the two of you sat there looking into each other’s eyes.

“You’re welcome darling.” He mumbled, his eyes flicking to your lips and for a split second you thought your heart stopped. Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him? Your eyes traced his handsome face, stopping for a short moment at his pink lips before meeting his eyes again.

“Please tell me you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you.” He said with a strained voice making your breath hitch, you gave a small nod. His lips were on yours in no time. It was better than you ever thought it would be. His lips were soft and gentle as he kissed you like you were made of porcelain, his hand moved to the back of your neck while yours found his shirt, fisting the collar. When you pulled apart for air Fred had a huge grin on his face as his thumb stroked your cheekbone, his smile was contagious, making you smile as well.

“If all I needed to do to make you smile was to kiss you, I would’ve done it sooner.” He said before kissing you again. You could almost thank the vile which who liked to torture children for the outcome of this very rotten day.

[euovennia]

oh oh - and if it’s not too much trouble to ask, an addition to mom/dad friend simon, maybe another hc where reader takes a bullet for him and he’s like "why would you do that" and she’s all like "because your my friend" and he’s like "🥹" rubbing my hands together deviously

so for anyone new, this post is a continuation of this request, but it can be read as a stand alone if you so choose! i will say simon may be a bit ooc but you've already been besties forever so it's fine. thank you to the anon who requested this, i hope i did it justice. now please, enjoy <3

so by this point it's become well established that you and simon are pretty much a package deal

one can never be seen without the other trailing too far behind

unless of course one of you (usually simon) is actually trying to do their job

but even then you both have a tendency to hover

well

the hovering is usually done by simon who will take it upon himself to sit somewhere in the same room as you while you work

but you're more direct in your approach

which basically means you have no hesitation in pulling up a chair and talking his ear off

depending on his mood/what he's working on he'll either slide something your way in hopes of distracting you into silence or he'll take part in your mindless chatter

it's usually the latter much to the annoyance of price whose come to notice that simon tends to submit his mission reports just a tad later than normal when you're around

but he doesn't dare say anything because he's just happy simon finally has someone to keep him company

even if it does mean him missing a deadline here and there

now with the amount of time you two spend around one another, there was the small concern that you two may become a bit more reckless on missions together

but honestly?

that couldn't have been farther from the truth

as much as you like messing around with simon, you're very aware that your line of work requires your full attention

so, despite how hard it can be at times, you limit your jokes and general shenanigans to the bare minimum so you can get the job done

and obviously it goes without saying that he does the same by shedding the name simon riley and becoming the infamous ghost

it was a bit startling for the team to witness this change at first

they honestly thought you two were mad at each other

but after the mission was said and done, you and simon started hanging out again and it just kinda clicked

simon probably uses you as an example to soap to be honest

anyway, point is

you both know how to keep your friendship out of the way in the field, you've practically mastered the art of it

but the moment you see him get into a knife fight with an enemy soldier on a mission, you can't help but worry

and you can't help the way your worry morphs into panic as you see a tiny red dot plant itself on his body as he finally drives his knife into the neck of the rival soldier

and you certainly can't help the way your feet seemingly begin to move on their own as you sprint toward ghost and practically ram him into the ground

and you most definitely can't help the yelp of pain that drops from your lips as you feel a searing hot pain rip through your lower abdomen

so much for those bullet proof vests

simon looks up from his position on the ground, knife in hand and ready to stab it into the poor soul dumb enough to tackle him like this

but then he sees you

he sees your face, eyes wide with shock and mouth agape

his eyes trail down your body and he swears his world nearly crashes as he stares at the dark red spot currently staining your shirt

he can only fear the faint sound of yet another gun going off before you're tumbling onto the ground

he snaps out of his daze to catch you and he can't help but feel horrified upon seeing another bullet wound lodged into your thigh

he can hold in his cry of agony and heartbreak as your breathing soon becomes labored and your eyes fill with tears

he gives your struggling form a once over before sucking in a sharp breath and dragging you to a nearby hill that was littered with enough rocks and boulders to offer shelter from the incoming storm of bullets

he settles your head onto his lap as he harshly barks out words you can't even begin to understand through the comms

you can barely register the way his hand gives your face a small smack

your eyes connect as he pulls a roll of gauze from his tactical backpack, "come on, kid. don't do this to me. just a bit longer."

even with the searing hot pain that was overruling all your other senses, you can't help but smile

you grab onto his inked forearm and he stops as he looks back at you, eyes wild and frantic

"hey simon?"

"what?"

"thanks for putting up with me."

your eyes begin to flutter open, a small hiss of discomfort escaping your mouth as you cringe at the bright overhead lights

you make a move to bring a hand up in front of your eyes to shield yourself form the harsh fluorescents, but stop your movements when the lights suddenly begin to dim

confused, you begin to look around the room only to see simon standing by a wooden door with his hand on what you assumed to be a light dimmer

he stares at you through the eye holes of his balaclava, "better?"

you offer him a nod paired with a small smile and open your mouth to offer your thanks but stop when he puts the lights back up to their full brightness causing you to let out a groan

you open your mouth once more to vocalize your complaints and throw a half-hearted insult his way, but stop when you hear the heavy footfall of simon's boots making their way over to your hospital bed

he comes to a stop by your bedside as he glares down at you, a swirl of emotions darkening his already hardened gaze

after giving your eyes a few moments to adjust he speaks, "you're the stupidest person i've ever fuckin' met."

your eyes widen as your jaw goes slack, "excuse me?"

he leans down and stops just a few inches short of your face, "i said you're stupid and i'd yank you off the field myself if i could."

you can feel your heart drop at his harsh tone but decide to soldier on, "you're in a good mood today, aren't ya?"

his eyes narrow and a growl of anger and frustration escape the lips hidden by his mask, "don't give me any of that shit, you know what you did."

you sigh, "i'm in a hospital bed, simon. i don't think i could've done any–"

you don't even get to finish your sentence before he's interrupting you, "why'd you do it?"

you stare up at him, confusion and annoyance evident on your face

"simon, what are y–"

he scoffs, "the fucking bullet! you took the fucking bullet! why'd you do that? what made you think that was a bloody good idea? do you have any fucking clue what you put this team – what you put me through?"

oh

right

your expression melts into one of sheepishness as you attempt to get in a word, but stop when simon decides to continue

"i had the situation handled, i could've taken care of myself! i'm smart, i'm capable, and i have years more experience than you do so tell me, i can handle myself! i don't need you steppin' in and throwin' yourself in front of bullets! you coulda fuckin' died!"

"simon–"

he points a finger in your face as he continues on with his rant, "no, you don't get to call me that, not anymore. from here on out, you either address me as ghost or lieutenant, nothing else until you can learn how to handle yourself on the field. we need soldiers, not daredevils. do you understand?"

you exhale, "no."

before he can continue with his angry tangent you sit up with a painful grimace and grab the pillow the pillow your head once rested upon and fling it at him

he narrowly dodges it and stares at you with a mix of rage and pure disbelief with a glare that practically screamed, "what the fuck."

hit block limit again. i'm afraid this may become a habit. anyway.

taking his silence as your cue to speak, you do just that, "okay fine, you're right. i probably shouldn't have tackled you down like that and taken a bullet for you, i probably should've remembered that you're a fully capable man with more experience than me, and i probably should've remembered that the field is no place to be playing favorites. you're right, i should've kept that all in mind but–"

you let out a small sigh as you avert your eyes to the think blanket draped over your body, "when i saw that gun pointed right at you i...i couldn't bring myself to care about any of that. at that moment, all i saw was you in danger and i couldn't have that so i did what i did. you can reprimand and punish me all you want for doing it, but i don't care. i stand by my actions."

simon eyes you for a few moments longer before grabbing onto a chair nearby and settling it beside your bed

you watch as he sits down with a small sigh, his eyes never leaving yours

"why?"

your brows knit together in confusion

"why what?"

"why'd you take a bullet–no, why'd you take two bullets for me? you and everyone else on this team know i could've handled it, so why?"

you frown, "because you're my friend, simon. why else?"

once those words leave your mouth, you're greeted with his blank ghost stare

again, he's just 👁️👁️

and you feel a small wave of concern wash over you

like

this is the same man who was torturing you with the bright fluorescent lights and lecturing you to hell just a few minutes ago and now he's just staring at you

still and silent as ever

you almost ask if he's okay, but stop yourself when he brings his large hand up to the edge of your hospital bed and begins inching it closer to yours before eventually resting it over yours

it's quiet for a few moments longer before he speaks in one of the quietest voices you've ever heard from him, "you took that bullet cause i'm your friend?"

you can't help but soften your own voice as you respond, "my best friend."

upon hearing you say that, simon can just feel the small well of tears that begin building up in his eyes

and as much as he wants to fight them off, he just can't

you, already being able to sense the internal war he's got going on inside his head, simply turn your hand so you can grip onto his and give it a firm squeeze

and by god he hates you for that

because now he can't help but disconnect your hands in favor of surging forward and wrapping his arms around you

you swear you can feel the small rumble of his shoulders as he tries and fails to conceal his quiet sniffles but you decide to overlook it because oh my god simon 'ghost' riley is crying in your arms and it's all your fault

so you decide it's best to just hold onto him as tight as you possibly can

he notices this and he just melts

what did he do to deserve you?

what overpowering force of life felt that he was good enough for the sunshine that is you?

who gave him the honor of being blessed with you?

he's not sure but quite frankly, he doesn't really care

not when you're holding onto him like your life depends on it

not when you pull back from the hug, look into his eyes, and offer him the brightest smile he's ever seen

and certainly not when you grab onto his hands and speak in that sweet honey voice of yours, "i'll always take a bullet for you. i can't lose you, simon."

jesus christ you're going to make his heart burst

he sucks in a small breath and squeezes onto your hands, "i can't lose you either, kid."

you only smile, "you won't, i'm always gonna be here with you."

words that once would've annoyed him to no end now set his cold heart alight

"you fuckin' better."

your smile widens and you lean forward to capture him in yet another hug

with his arms wrapped tightly around your body and you pressed up against him, he can't help but smile

it's definitely nice to have a friend

:)

[freakymcnastys]

“sweet” - izuku midoriya x fem!reader

━━ . ˚₊ ꒱ "it's so sweet, knowing that you love me"

content: regular mha!! no aus or anything :], reader is recovery girl's granddaughter, no use of y/n, i ripped off tangled with the readers quirk (oops)

context: circa s1 or s2 deku hehehe

word count: 1.4k

IZUKU LAY IN THE SMALL BED INSIDE THE OFFICE awaiting recovery girl, whom he had probably seen 3 times already this week. He let out a sigh, looking down at his now purple arm, he had hurt it pretty bad this time. His entire arm was a disgusting shade of indigo; it pained him to look it at. He took another deep breath before he started taking notes on the small nurse's office.

He noticed that Recovery Girl wasn't in the room the moment he walked in, which he found strange. Maybe she had to use the bathroom? Or was called to another more damaging injury somewhere on UA's campus. He found the second idea less plausible, as there were folders neatly planted in the middle of her desk. He smiled to himself as he looked out the window next to the bed he was sitting on, it was nice to have a moment to himself.

As he stared out the window he heard a small knock at the door, he turned his head and saw you, your figure barely hitting the halfway mark on the door. He tilted his head in confusion, you didn't seem to be hurt. "Hello, how are you?" He questioned, his voice delicate as he spoke to you. You shifted your gaze from the floor to his eyes and smiled. "Hello!! I'm doing great, thank you for asking," You shut the door behind you before walking up to Recovery Girl's desk and placing down your clipboard, "How are you Mr...." You looked up at him as you pointed toward the stack of files in front of you, "Oh! Izuku Midoriya." He watched as you pulled a file from the pile and open it. He watched you study the entries and notes on the pages before looking up at him again. "I assume you have a broken arm, Mr. Izuku Midoriya." You stated matter-of-factly, he chuckled and nodded, looking down at his purple arm.

"That looks really bad, how's your pain level?" You questioned, taking a step forward and studying the damage. "7 or 8? Which is typical...I'm in here a lot..." He looked away and you let out a small giggle, "Yeah your file says that. Don't worry tho! I will patch you up." You gave him a sweet smile before taking off your white coat and and laying it over Recovery Girl's chair. "I- I don't mean to sound rude but.....who are you?" You froze for a moment and let out a little laugh, "I'm so embarrassed! I'm Recovery Girl's granddaughter! I'm interning with her this week!" You gave him a smile before reaching toward the back of your head, undoing the bun that was holding your hair. "W-w-wait! You don't heal the same way Recovery Girl does....right?" He said in a nervous tone, you looked over at him and smiled, noticing his red face. "No silly! Here lay up against the headboard, I'll show you!" You said cheerfully, Izuku let out a sigh of relief before quickly crawling under the covers and sitting up against the headboard.

You grabbed the chair by the desk and sat beside the green-haired boy, pulling your hair over your shoulder. "Your hair is so long..." He stated, watching you as you delicately lifted up his hurt arm. He felt your soft and dainty hands slowly wrap your locks of hair around the top of his shoulder to the palm of his hands. While you finished wrapping your hair around his arm you spoke again, "It's easier for me to use my quirk when my hair is longer! I've found my quirk works more effectively when it's longer too," you stated in a sweet tone. He looked up at you and smiled again, a faint hue of pink tinting his cheeks as he watched you giggle and smile while working. "You can close your eyes if you want, some people don't like watching." You said sweetly before taking a deep breath. You started humming a little tune and Izuku could feel the pain wash away through his whole arm. It was like drinking a glass of ice water on a hot day.

He looked at your calm face but he noticed how your arm twitched as you hummed, he was curious. "Is your arm ok?" He questioned genuinely, you stopped humming and looked up at him before looking toward your arm. "Oh! Yeah, I'll be ok..." Izuku tilted his head like a puppy, you smiled again, "When I use for quirk the injury transfers to me. Not really just the pain, my arm won't break so don't get nervous." At that moment, Izuku looked up at you in a panic, nervousness clearly present in his expression. "Wait wait! I don't want to hurt you..!" He said sweetly, you let out a small chuckle, "It's ok Mr. Midoriya, I know the risks of my quirk." You stated calmly before continuing your humming, the pain feeling lighter and lighter on Izuku's side. "Call me Deku and please...don't hurt yourself for me..." He trailed off, rambling about guilt and all these factors that weren't even crossing your mind.

Mid ramble the two of you heard the door to the office open, and you watched Recovery Girl enter the room followed by Mr. Toshinori, whom you had met earlier in the day. You smiled at them and Izuku looked over at Toshinori, a worried expression plastered on his face. "She said her arms gonna break..." He said sadly, tears welling in his eyes, you sighed, "I didn't say that! Nana he doesn't want me to heal him." You said, looking back at Izuku before starting your humming again. "Oh you poor thing!" Recovery Girl stated sarcastically, walking toward the medical cabinet and grabbing some bandages and an arm sling, "Let me grandbaby work on you! She knows what she's doing." Izuku sighed and looked over at Toshinori, who nodded. Everyone sat in silence as you finished humming, Izuku's pain almost completely gone.

When you were finished you unwrapped your hair with the same delicate manner as when you initially wrapped it. You took the supplies from Recovery Girl and began bandaging his arm, he studied you, and your arm, which twitched a little with every movement, but you paid no attention to it. Toshinori looked over at Izuku and spoke, "How are you feeling kid?" he questioned, watching you work diligently as Izuku formed his thoughts. "Good...It doesn't hurt at all really..." Izuku chuckled before turning back to you, "Well kid..." Toshinori started, looking over at you, you paused and smiled at him, "Yes sir?" You said kindly, "I think you got the job." He said with a cheeky smile. You giggled, and Izuku smiled, he didn't realize he was smiling but you did, and that made you smile back. A toothy grin appeared on your face as you clipped Izuku's bandages. When that was done you got him into the sling and then he was done.

"You're all done Deku!" you stated sweetly, looking back at Recovery Girl, she had a proud smile on her face. You got up from the chair, moved it, then offered Izuku a hand as he got up from the bed. Toshinori took his other arm and you led them to the door. The two turned around and you smiled at them before running back toward Recovery Girl's desk, grabbing a small candy from one of the many drawers. You handed it to Izuku as you spoke, "the bones should heal within the next couple of days! Try not the damage them again, or it'll hurt more!" You said with a serious expression, you smiled at Izuku and Toshinori one last time before they started walking out. Izuku looked back at you and smiled brightly "Thank you!!" You laughed and waved goodbye, "You are welcome Mr. Deku!" You said kindly, looking back at your grandma with a giddy smile. "Can I stay another week Nana?"

Once Deku and Toshinori were farther down the hall Izuku looked up at his yellow-haired mentor, "I....I think I wanna break my leg...." Deku said quietly, Toshinori laughed loudly, "I saw the way you looked at her kid, I can tell that you wanna break your bones. But you wouldn't wanna disappoint her, would you?" Toshinori questioned, looking down at Izuku again, whose face was bright red. "No sir!" he said loudly, Toshinori laughed again before saying, "So follow the nurse's orders."

Izuku felt his face heat up at the thought of your smile, and he couldn't wait to visit Recovery Girl's office again.

(i'm such a sucker for cute fics T^T i hope you enjoyed it!! let me know ur thoughts down below!! <33)

- love always, devina

[dollwritesarchive]

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 — 𝐦𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐨

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic! smut ( minors dni ), fem!nanami’s apprentice!reader, virgin!reader, noncon, anal, body morphing ( tentacles, two dicks + some inflation too ), double anal penetration, size kink, mindbreak, bad end, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ commissioned by @beebiesworld!! do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

“Well, you gave up earlier than I anticipated,” the Curse circled you, eyeing your frame up and down like a hungry animal, a wicked grin pulling his features taut, “Such a shame. I was enjoying chasing you around, the smell of your sweat was so sweet, and you seemed so frightened. Instead of fighting me, you tried to run away; are you sure you’re really a Jujutsu Sorcerer?”

there was a faint sound, the clanging of your daggers hitting the concrete ground at your feet, but it sounded so far away. what was really loud, however, was the beating of your heart. it thumped against your eardrums, it drowned out your panting.

how?

how had he caught up with you so fast?

you hold your hands up above your head in defeat, sheepish at just how he stared at your trembling fingers. you didn’t want him to notice them, but they would’ve been impossible to overlook. “I’m… still in training…”

he gasps with an excited grin and draws closer from behind, until the very shape of his lips forming the words against your ear shifts a tendril out of place, “I see, and does your mentor know you’re here?” you want to cower away from the softness of his voice— it was taunting and cruel, but it sounded so sweet.

you shake your head instead of answering him out loud, the lump growing in your throat making it hard to speak. to say that Nanami Kento didn’t know his pupil had wanted to impress him so badly that she skirted his rules and pursued a curse much too powerful and now she was utterly fucked with no way to call for help was too damning for your lips to bring the words to them.

“No?” both hands snake around to grasp at your arms in the air, and keep them there. your muscles all go taut; your blood freezing in your veins. you remembered what Nanami had said about this curse, and his ability to manipulate the body. would he destroy you this way? you close your eyes tight, and await an excruciating death. “He must be worried about you,” the curse croons against the shell of your ear, before puckering to plant a saccharine kiss on your lobe, his body pressing against yours from behind. “That 7:3 Sorcerer.” the way he spat it, like he was drooling acid into your ear, you knew he meant Nanami. he must still be miffed that your mentor had managed to escape him by pulling a cheap shot. lithe, dangerous digits that were cold to the touch drag along your forearms at a slow pace, and he chuckles. it sends a shiver up your spine. “You must know all about me, then. And our little game we played.”

swallowing hard against the lump blocking your throat, you nod, gathering the courage to speak, even as your voice trembled. “I know… I know how you disfigure innocent people. How you torture them… just by touching them…”

“Does that scare you?” he tilts his head, resting his chin against the crook of your neck, and his hands careen around your shoulders, towards your collarbone, “Knowing that I could pull you apart and put you together again, all wrong. I could disfigure you by force, and it would be so painful your mind just might shatter from the trauma—“ though he was threatening to mutilate you, his voice was lighthearted; playful, even. a new level of malicious that you’d never known before. you knew that he could feel the ferocity of your heartbeat, because his digit tips drummed over your chest in the same, frantic rhythm before they tug at your neckline, gentle and teasing, exposing the tops of your heaving breasts. “If I wanted to.” he pokes out his lower lip in a pensive pout, “But then I wouldn’t get to hear you scream, if I turned your brain to soup right away. I shouldn’t transfigure you, should I? I should keep you together, at least long enough to have my fun…”

don’t be a coward. you wanted to tell yourself this over and over, but it was so much easier said than done. he was considering how to torture you as easily as one might consider their options for dinner. “Why are you toying with me?” your hands clench into fists, falling down at your sides once your arms started to ache, “Stop talking about it, already… if you’re going to kill me, just… do it.”

“Kill?” he sounded genuinely puzzled, and that worried you. “Did I ever say kill? I don’t want to kill you, little sorcerer.” you can feel him moving, even as he’s pressed against you, his feet slipping in between yours, kicking them apart until your legs are spread wide, and something— no, two somethings inching up under your pant legs. they felt like twin serpents, forcing their way through the threading until your bottoms were hanging in tatters against your exposed legs. “I want to ruin you.”

your eyes widen, and your gaze drops to your legs— those tentacles were the same shade of ivory that he was, and they were wrapping themselves around the hem of your panties, like fists ready to jerk them down.

you react, but not fast enough. trying to launch yourself forward, both hands flail to shove at the curse, but he’s coiled two more of those strong, thick cords around your torso, cinching your arms in their constriction. the vice knocks the breath out of you, and you would’ve fallen forward had his many extremities not tangled you up— the very tips of them form fingers, one by one, morphing into stitched hands identical to his original ones, and pull at your clothes, jerking your panties halfway down your thighs. as soon as your sex is met with the cold, damp air of the underground, he inhales deep; smelling you. “Ahhh,” he moans, and the tentacles coiled around your midriff begin to pry at your top, pulling it down, “I can’t wait to destroy you!”

your legs tremor, fighting against the inhuman strength of his organic bondage to try and close, to minimize your exploit, but you’re no match for him, not wrapped up like this. you kick your feet, and scream to be let go. but he giggles, watching you fight for your life, and lose. all the while, those many hands of his grope at you, squeezing and kneading your breasts, long fingers running laps between your folds, coaxing your sex to weep, unwillingly.

“Stop—!” you cry out, writhing hopelessly,

“Why? It seems like you like it, your little cunt is wet!”

but you couldn’t bite back the hapless whining that left your lips fast enough, surprised by the stinging sensation when a middle finger and thumb flick at your sensitive clit. “So swollen already,” he laughs, twisting you around to face him. you see now, as you’re hoisted off the ground, that those tentacles ripped his shirt so severely that it’d slipped from his body completely, leaving his rippled torso bare. he was incredibly muscular, and you hadn’t noticed until now, with his silvery tresses hanging over one shoulder, tickling his navel. the feelers winding up and down your legs spread them further into a wide split, opening you up completely, and you wince. you’d trained plenty, physical feats, but you’d never had your muscles forced this tight. “You must be a virgin, you’re so sensitive.” he hums as he steps closer, his clothed groin pressing flush against your most sensitive portion. you can feel a thick tent, hard and pulsating, just beyond the fabric, attempting to push through and get to your sex, and you mewl, shaking your head, mostly to yourself. “I almost can’t believe that 7:3 Sorcerer didn’t fuck you himself, what with how cute this pussy looks when she’s wet. He hasn’t even seen it, has he? I wonder if he wants to?”

both of his hands reach down, pressing his thumbs against your netherlips, and spreads them apart to expose your maiden entrance, his dual-hued gaze sparkling with wicked delight when you whimper a pathetic, ‘No…’ and shut your eyes tight. it wasn’t an answer to his question ( which seemed to be more of a musing than a true inquiry ), but a protest to his touch. you didn’t have to say out loud that Nanami didn’t see you in that light; he was your teacher. you looked up to him, you saw him as a second father. he wouldn’t think like that. not like this monster.

would he?

you feel pressure, unlike svelte fingers, prodding at your sex. your eyelids snap open and you stare down the sea of slithering tentacles in horror. his hands hadn’t moved, your folds still pulled back, but Mahito has rid himself of his pants and, thus, freed a thick, hard cock from its prison. with just a subtle jut of his hips, he’s able to press the bulbous head against your hole. you clench in response, trying to close completely, but his teasing is just powerful enough to stretch you back open. “Hhhnnnn,” Mahito moans, his tongue darting out to swipe along his lips, “Keep clenching, keep trying to keep me out— it makes me want to hurt you.” one of the hands growing from his many appendages reaches up to caress your cheek, which you promptly turn away from. “You’ll only scream louder when I stuff you full of three, big cocks and make that cute, little hole gape for me.”

three.

you tried not to think about that, but there was no denying the creature before you was demonic enough to conjure and do just what he threatened.

“Nanami… he’ll… come to save me…” you insist, squirming. it was a pathetic attempt to instill fear into the curse— try to scare him with what your mentor might do to him if he follows through with his demented plan.

“I hope so!” Mahito chimes, “I hope he’s on his way right now.” with one hand grasping himself at his base, he drags the engorged tip of his cock between your lips, purposefully bumping your vulnerable clit, and watches you bite your cheek to stifle a breathy sound. “He knows where to find us, and you’ll be broken in long before he makes it here, it’ll be so fun to watch him realize just how helpless I’ve made you. Now, I’ve got a tough decision to make,” thoughtful, Mahito tilts his head to one side, and then the other. you open your eyes, reluctantly, and stare down at his cock, rubbing between your folds. he catches you staring and smiles wickedly, wide, “This tight, little pussy… or…” one more swipe, and this time, his tip pressed against your hole and you braced yourself— were about to be invaded for the first time.

for only a fraction of a second.

before he pushes down on his base, sliding his tool just below your sex; it was slick and shiny with your arousal. the thick head sits flush against your anus, and you haven’t the time to protest, though you suck in a flustered breath to do so, before he plunges inside.

a jolt of pain wracks you, and you cry out, voice breaking, when he forces his way into your canal. he was merciless, instantaneous in falling into a brutal, deep rhythm. you were wincing, one eye closed right whilst the other glared daggers up at him, snorting heavy breaths through your nostrils. sealing your tiers muffled painful whimpers, but your toes still curled, your fists still tightened, in protest.

Mahito swoons, seeing how much you hate having him in your guts, and it only spurs him to fuck you harder— deeper. “Yes! That greedy, wet cunt of yours can wait; it’s much more fun stretching you out this way instead,” he’s purring, lids weighing heavily on his duo-toned eyes, “you look so cute, right now, in so much pain. My cock’s just too big for that virgin asshole of yours, isn’t it?” you nod. you knew he wouldn’t care. hell, maybe he would even find amusement in it and fuck you harder just to inflict more pain, but you answer anyways.

helpless.

pathetic.

both hands clasp against your waist, digging his thumbs against your belly to jerk you back to him each time your body lurched from the power of his thrusts. the intensity, the incessant force behind his cock barreling into your insides was all but maddening. he was right. he was too big for you, he was too rough for you. your body was struggling to keep up with all of the sensation and it overloaded your system. that must’ve been the reason you clenched around air, the reason you felt your stomach bunch up in pleasured knots. right?

you could hear the sound— your sex was dripping down over your ass cheeks, and each time the curse drove himself home, his balls smacked against them, sticking just enough to emit a sickening slap. over and over.

Mahito was panting, but you could tell he wasn’t winded because his velocity never even faltered. he pounded you relentlessly, and squeezed your waist so furious that you could swear he was about to fold you in half at the midriff, his thumbs digging into the squishy flesh. “Still a little vice,” he whined, mostly to himself, “I wanted to get another cock in you, but no matter how hard I drill you to stretch this fuckhole out enough, you still grip like crazy. Heh, let’s see if we can fix that, eh?”

“N—no—!” shaking your head, as fervent as you could muster having been fucked halfway into submission, you mewl out in protest. another cock? your stomach flipped. your body couldn’t even handle this one; surely you would split open if forced to take any more. your opposition fell on utterly deaf ears, because it wasn’t even a full moment later that you felt yourself stretch. “S—stop!” clawing at your own fists, you thrash in the tentacles’ grip; at first, it felt like he was prying you open, your battered ring yielding helplessly to the extraction, but then you could feel it on the inside. your walls were stretching. desperate to accommodate the slow-growing bulge you could see peeking against your belly button. he was inflating himself whilst balls deep in your belly, giving you no choice but to extend around him.

“There we go,” Mahito let out a breathy sigh, but never once let slowed the pistoning of his hips. he was determined to hollow you out completely, “open up, cutie. If you don’t, I might just fuck a hole right through you.”

you’d never felt so full before, and you couldn’t imagine anyone had. your body was stretched, your stomach distended in an unnatural bulge that moved, back and forth, with each merciless hip snap. you could feel every inch, thicker than humanly possible, as they pummeled your rectum. you couldn’t enjoy this. not this pain, not this cruelty.

but your pussy was still wet.

was it the never ending fucking, the constant stabbing at every, intimate nerve inside that was numbing your mind? or had you always been destined to enjoy such depravity?

no, it had to be him.

Mahito was fucking the urge to resist right out of you. with each buck of his hips, each time his balls smashed against you, you were losing a part of your brain. the will to fight back had all but dissipated. as did your hatred of the pain he inflicted.

“N— Naa—nami—“ repeating his name under your breath was the only thing keeping your brain from melting away. forcing yourself to remember that your mentor would come for you. he would save you. if you simply held on to your sanity. “H—help— me—“

“Hmm?” Mahito crooned, his tempo changing drastically for once. he was still incredibly deep, but his thrusts were torturous and slow, coaxing weakened whimpers from your lips each time he pressed his abdomen to yours, as flush to you, as deep in your ass that he could go. “You still remember that 7:3 Sorcerer’s name? Even after I’ve stuffed you to your limit?” he didn’t sound at all disappointed. he sounded… impressed. “Fine, I’ll just have to fuck you until your brain turns to mush.” grinning ear to ear, Mahito releases your stomach, leaving one hand tight on your waist, but the other flees to his groin, gripping the base of a brand new cock growing out from his pelvis. perfectly planted just above his original member, this new appendage is already throbbing and erect when it sprouts, drizzling precum over its twin and your abused hole. “You won’t even remember your own name when I shove this one inside of you. Watch!”

he was so fucking right.

your ring protested taking another, girthy intruder, but he was too strong and, in the end, your body had to give in. worming its way inside, the new cock rubs against the other, coaxing a vulgar moan from your assailant, but you didn’t hear it. this new, impossible feeling had hit a switch in your brain. both dicks bulged in your belly, pressing hard against the sensitive wall protecting your g-spot, scrubbing rough, pulsating veins against the nerves. the two sexes were roughly the same length, jabbing deep in your belly, and when he pulled back, and both withdrew before slamming home, you saw stars behind your eyelids as your head dropped back and you yowled.

Mahito must’ve had an amazing memory, because that very same fierce speed and depth returned to his rocking hips in no time, even as you hang— limp and suspended by those extremities. your mouth was agape, so your moans flowed free, but you couldn’t form any real words. you couldn’t cry for help anymore. your eyes rolled around behind twitching lids.

you didn’t remember Nanami’s name.

you didn’t remember your own.

and you couldn’t care. you couldn’t think.

his cocks seemed to be working in tandem, reaching every sensitive cluster of nerves that you had and punching them over and over, an orchestrated attack to shatter your mind. and it was working.

you felt utterly claimed, decimated. his cocks had invaded you, dominated you, broken you. and deep down you knew that, even if someone did rescue your beaten body from this devil before he crumbled it, your brain was long beyond salvation.

“Poor thing,” Mahito moaned, using his now free hand to press down against the dueling protrusions in your belly, but you only squealed louder when he did so, “you’ll never be the same after this, you know? You’ll never recover from me, and we’re not even close to being finished. This is only your ass, cutie, I’ve still got to conquer that little cunt of yours. I wonder if you’ll even hang on long enough for that, or if your body will simply give out.” but, it didn’t matter to him, not really. you knew that he wouldn’t care if you were mangled beyond repair; he’d said himself, he wanted to break you. “No,” he said, finally, within a whiny, ecstasy filled moan, and grasped your face. squeezing your cheeks together hard, he forced your chin into your chest, and kept your visage angled towards him. he didn’t care if you couldn’t see through your glassy eyes, or that you were drooling all over yourself, he cooed at the sight of your loss against him, “I’ll make sure you stay with me, at least long enough to be the prettiest, sloppiest bait for that 7:3 Sorcerer.”

he could hear you.

Nanami could hear you, panting, crying, but as he called your name, he got no response. he repeated it over and over, stampeding the corridors, following the helpless sounds of his pupil. please be okay. he didn’t say it out loud, and he didn’t have to. he was the only one there to hear it.

should he have asked for back up? of course. but, Nanami couldn’t wait for anyone else to come to the rescue, and he had a gnawing fear in his gut that he was already too late.

if Mahito had already gotten to you, then he was getting closer and closer to discovering that you had been transfigured, and he would have to put you out of your misery, and he wasn’t even sure he could do that.

his heart was racing, but as he turned the corner, he saw a crumpled figure on the ground just a short sprint away— it was you, he could tell, but he couldn’t make out much more. he barked your name, hoping to grasp your attention as he approached, but when the visage of you finally cleared, his blood ran icy in his veins.

you were on your knees, completely nude, and yet you were slumped forward with your face against the ground, cheek smushed and distorting your expression, forcing one eye closed. the other was half opened— you looked drowsy. but your thighs quivered. his gaze was immediately drawn to them, and he drew in a harsh breath.

one of your hands worked diligently between your hips, your middle two fingers thrusting deep inside of yourself. with each probe, sticky white dribbles out of your cunt and over your hand and wrist. it’s the same as the substance that oozes from your butthole as it spasms. it must’ve also matched the cocktail of cum and spit smeared across your features, and splattered on your ass cheeks and thighs. you were a complete mess, and you didn’t even seem to care.

you hardly even noticed Nanami when he approached you, still fingering yourself, gurgling moaning, your eyelids flittering. “What…” Nanami’s brows knit together, his teeth grind. “What happened to you?“ he asked, but he was already relatively certain that you wouldn’t be able to answer him. mortified, he steps closer, kneeling down with his arms extended, sleeves rolled up and ready to scoop you into his arms. “I’m going to get you out of here—“

“C—cock—“ you whimper, tongue hanging out of your mouth, and Nanami freezes. “P—please… give me… cock… fuck me… use me… h—hurt me… fff— fuck me, p—please…” sharp eyes widening ever so slightly behind his spectacles, he sews his jaw shut right when he hears that damned familiar giggling from behind him.

Mahito had appeared there, clasping his hands together with glee. “I hope you won’t be too mad at me, but I borrowed your little toy here.” he exclaims, gesturing towards the mess of what’s left of you.

when you hear his voice, you shake harder, fucking yourself more fervently with both fingers, and whimpering, “Please… please… fuck me… fuck me… fuck…”

“The only problem is,” Mahito smirks, a devious twinkle in his eye when Nanami turns around, “I think I broke her.”

[almostwisegalaxy]

An Echo of Melancholy

Ji Chang wook x fem!reader

The reader has a shy personality in this story

..................................................................................

The lights of Seoul sparkled in the darkness like scattered stars, but in the auditorium where y/n's fan meeting was taking place, another kind of light captivated hearts. y/n, a actress and singer, walked gently onto the stage, greeted by applause as warm as it was contrasting to her reserved demeanor.

She wore a simple midnight-blue dress, her braids framing a face of delicate beauty. Her shy smile and measured gestures reflected a modest, almost elusive personality. Yet, whenever she spoke or sang, she captivated everyone, as if her voice touched their souls directly.

Among the crowd, a man observed with disarming intensity. Ji Chang Wook, the renowned 37-year-old South Korean actor, sat silently, hidden among her fans. Accustomed to being the center of attention, he found himself feeling strangely vulnerable in her presence. Ever since he had stumbled upon her melancholic voice by chance, he had been unable to think of anything else.

The event was in full swing, and the fans, united in enthusiasm, begged y/n to perform one of her most iconic songs: Whispered Scars.

y/n hesitated, playing with the microphone in her hands.

— "Wouldn’t you prefer something more cheerful?" she asked with a slightly nervous smile, provoking laughter throughout the room.

But the fans persisted. She finally gave in, a faint sigh escaping her lips.

— "All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."

She sat down on a stool, her fingers brushing the microphone as if to steady herself. The first notes of the piano filled the room, and as soon as she began singing, the auditorium fell into complete silence.

The melody was gentle and melancholic, and each word carried a universal pain. Whispered Scars spoke of invisible wounds, silent struggles hidden from the world. y/n's voice, fragile yet powerful, pierced the hearts of everyone present, and soon, tears streamed down many faces.

Ji Chang Wook felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest. It was as if she was revealing a part of herself through the song—a part he wanted to protect at all costs.

After the performance, the emotion in the room was palpable. Fans began sharing their own stories, inspired by y/n's raw sincerity.

A young woman timidly stepped forward, the microphone trembling in her hands.

— "y/n-ssi… I just wanted to say thank you. Your music helped me through a really difficult time. My fiancé left me after eight years together… I didn’t know who I was without him. But your songs made me realize I could survive, even with scars."

y/n looked at the fan, her eyes glistening with emotion.

— "Thank you for sharing that," she said softly. "I don’t have the perfect words to ease that kind of pain, but… sometimes, our scars become our most beautiful stories to tell. You’re stronger than you think."

Another fan spoke up, a young man with tear-streaked eyes.

— "y/n-ssi, have you ever… lost someone you loved? I don’t know how to keep going. I’m so tired."

The question, brutal in its honesty, seemed to freeze time. y/n lowered her gaze for a moment, searching for the right response.

— "Yes," she murmured at last. "I’ve lost someone… not to death, but to betrayal. And it’s a different kind of pain, but just as heavy. I won’t lie to you—it never completely goes away. But one day, you’ll realize you deserve better, and that will be the beginning of healing."

Sensing her words weren’t enough to break the heavy atmosphere, she added with a teasing smile:

— "And if nothing else works, you can always try planting tomatoes. I did that once, and even though they were inedible, it was oddly satisfying!"

The room erupted into laughter, breaking the tension. Even y/n blushed slightly, surprised by her own humor.

Later, a young girl approached shyly with a bouquet of flowers and a small, carefully wrapped package.

— "y/n-ssi, it’s not much, but… I made this gift for you. It’s a bracelet I crafted. I hope you like it."

Visibly touched, y/n stood to accept the flowers and the package. She bowed slightly, a humble smile on her face.

— "Thank you so much, it’s beautiful. But… you know, I’m not that special."

The fan shook her head fervently.

— "To me, you are. Your music gave me hope when I needed it most."

Moved by the declaration, y/n, in a spontaneous gesture, removed the silver bracelet she had been wearing. It was a gift she had received at the start of her career, but at that moment, it felt like it belonged to the young girl.

— "I want you to have this. To remind you that you’re special, too."

The fan burst into tears, overwhelmed by emotion, while y/n gently embraced her.

In the shadows, Ji Chang Wook observed every movement. Her natural kindness, her sincerity, and her way of connecting with her fans captivated him more and more. But beyond admiration, he felt an obsession growing within him.

He promised himself he would meet her. No, not just meet her—he would become a part of her life. No matter the cost.

As for y/n, she felt deeply moved by the evening, entirely unaware that in the crowd, someone was already planning a role in her destiny.

---

A few days after the fan meeting, y/n arrived at a workshop for underprivileged children organized at a community center in Seoul. Although she was often invited to charity events, this one was particularly close to her heart. The cause of struggling youth resonated with memories of her own childhood, marked by personal challenges.

Dressed in simple jeans and a cream sweater, she was almost unrecognizable compared to the star who captivated crowds. But here, she wasn’t a celebrity; she was just y/n, a volunteer ready to offer her time and warmth.

The workshop, centered around painting and music, buzzed with energy and laughter. y/n knelt beside a little girl who was struggling to draw a bird.

— "Do you want me to help?" she asked softly, picking up a pencil.

The child timidly nodded, and together, they began sketching a bird with colorful feathers. Within minutes, the little girl was laughing, opening up to y/n as if they’d known each other forever.

Across the room, Ji Chang Wook entered discreetly, dressed casually with a beanie partially hiding his face. He had learned about y/n’s participation through a contact at the center and couldn’t resist the idea of seeing her in this setting.

At first, he stayed in the background, watching how she interacted with the children. She radiated a natural warmth that seemed to put everyone at ease. This version of y/n—dedicated and kind-hearted—only deepened his desire to get closer to her.

After a while, he approached a boy sitting alone, his hands curled tightly around a paintbrush. The boy seemed hesitant to join the others.

— "Hi," Ji Chang Wook said with a smile. "Want to try something together? I’m not very good, but we could paint something funny."

The boy looked up timidly, intrigued by the warm man, and eventually nodded.

y/n, who had gotten up to fetch some brushes, noticed Ji Chang Wook for the first time. She blinked, surprised. He looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure. Was it really him?

Later in the day, after the activities had slowed down, y/n approached Ji Chang Wook. He was still with the young boy, softly laughing at their creation: a strange mix of a dragon and a cat.

— "You’re good at making kids laugh," she said, a playful smile on her lips.

Ji Chang Wook looked up, his gaze meeting hers. His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his composure.

— "I try. But I think you’re the one with the magic today. The kids adore you."

y/n blushed slightly, feeling shy at the compliment.

— "I’m just doing my best… but you seem very comfortable with them too. Do you come here often?"

Ji Chang Wook hesitated for a moment before answering. He didn’t want to admit he was there only because of her.

— "It’s my first time. I heard about the workshop and wanted to see how I could help."

— "That’s a wonderful initiative," y/n replied. "The kids need role models like you."

He smiled, but deep down, he knew he wanted to be more than just a role model to her.

As the workshop came to an end, Ji Chang Wook found the courage to hold her back for a moment.

— "y/n-ssi, it’s been a pleasure seeing you here. You seem to really love what you do."

— "I do," she answered sincerely. "It’s a way to give back a little of what I’ve received."

— "Maybe we could work together on another project for these kids? I have a few ideas in mind."

Surprised by his suggestion, y/n sensed a warmth in his approach. He didn’t seem to be there to impress, but genuinely engaged.

— "That’s a good idea. Send me your ideas, and we’ll see what we can do."

Ji Chang Wook nodded, pleased with her openness. It was only a small step, but for him, it was the beginning of something he hoped to build with patience.

In the days that followed, they exchanged a few messages about projects for the center. Ji Chang Wook tried to remain professional, although he found every interaction with her deeply captivating.

y/n, on the other hand, appreciated his respectful and thoughtful approach. He wasn’t at all what she might have imagined a celebrity of his stature to be. He seemed humble, almost vulnerable.

Without realizing it, she began to look forward to his messages with a certain anticipation—a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

In the quiet rhythm of their exchanges, a connection was gently forming, like a subtle melody promising a beautiful harmony to come.

---

A few weeks later, Ji Chang Wook and y/n met at the community center to finalize a project they had co-created: a workshop combining theater and music to help children express their emotions. The concept was simple yet powerful: the kids could act out scenes they created themselves, with improvised songs accompanying their stories.

y/n arrived first, helping to prepare the costumes and props. She was focused, her hands working delicately. Ji Chang Wook joined her shortly after, carrying a large bag filled with quirky wigs and hats.

— "I thought a bit of humor might help them relax," he said with a playful smile.

y/n burst out laughing as she pulled out a huge pink wig from the bag.

— "This is perfect. I’m sure they’ll love it. But… I can’t quite picture you wearing this," she teased, looking at him mischievously.

— "Oh, you underestimate me," he replied, immediately putting on the wig. "So, what do you think?"

y/n laughed even harder, and at that moment, she realized just how much she had grown to enjoy his company. Ji Chang Wook had this rare ability to lighten things up, even when she felt weighed down by her own thoughts.

The workshop was a success. Encouraged by the presence of the two celebrities, the children began to perform with a freedom and joy that even surprised the regular facilitators. y/n guided some of them through simple compositions, while Ji Chang Wook improvised hilarious scenes with the more timid ones.

At one point, a boy named Minho refused to participate. He had withdrawn to a corner of the room, arms crossed. y/n approached him gently.

— "Minho, are you okay? You don’t have to join in, but we’d love to have you with us."

The boy shook his head.

— "I’m no good. The others always make fun of me."

y/n crouched down to his level, looking him in the eyes.

— "I understand. You know, when I was little, I was scared to sing in front of others. But I learned something important: even if your voice shakes, even if you make a mistake, what matters is how you feel and what you share. It’s not easy, but I’m here for you."

Ji Chang Wook, who had been watching from a distance, approached quietly.

— "Minho, would you like me to be your scene partner? I’m terrible at singing, so maybe you could help me out."

The boy hesitated but eventually agreed, won over by the sincerity of the two adults. Together, they improvised a small scene where Minho played a brave hero while Ji Chang Wook dressed up as a clumsy villain. The laughter of the other children filled the room, and for the first time, Minho smiled.

At the end of the day, as the children went home, y/n and Ji Chang Wook stayed behind to help tidy up. A peaceful silence settled between them, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Ji Chang Wook broke the silence.

— "You have a gift, y/n. It’s not just your music or your voice. You have this ability to deeply touch people. Even a boy like Minho… he needed that today."

y/n turned to him, surprised by the intensity of his words. She lowered her gaze, uncomfortable with such sincerity.

— "Thank you," she murmured. "But I think you’re the same. Minho followed you because he sensed you were someone he could trust."

Ji Chang Wook smiled but said nothing more. He knew this wasn’t the right moment to reveal his feelings. He simply appreciated her presence, finding a strange comfort in their shared silence.

As they left the center, Ji Chang Wook suggested, almost without thinking:

— "How about grabbing a drink? You worked hard today; you deserve a coffee or tea."

y/n hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t the type to accept such invitations, especially from someone she still didn’t know well. But something about Ji Chang Wook’s demeanor put her at ease.

— "Alright. But I get to choose the place," she replied with a playful smile.

They ended up at a small, quiet café, far from the bustle of the city. For an hour, they talked about everything and nothing: their childhood memories, their dreams, their fears. y/n found herself sharing things she had never told anyone before, and Ji Chang Wook listened with an attentiveness that deeply moved her.

As they parted ways that evening, they thanked each other for the day. Ji Chang Wook, standing by his car, watched y/n walk away, a warm feeling spreading through him.

He knew it would take time to earn her full trust, but he was willing to wait. To him, y/n wasn’t just a fascinating woman; she was an echo of a part of himself he had never explored.

For her part, y/n felt a strange lightness for the first time in a long while. As if, after years of emotional solitude, she could finally consider opening a small door… gently, at her own pace.

And so, a relationship began to bloom between them, built on patience, respect, and shared moments that only deepened their budding connection.

---

The following days were marked by sporadic but meaningful exchanges between Y/N and Ji Chang Wook. Sometimes, he would send her a message to share a funny anecdote about the kids at the center, while at other times, she would share the lyrics of a new song she was writing. Their connection seemed to grow effortlessly, like a river flowing gently towards the ocean.

One afternoon, while she was rehearsing in a music studio, Y/N received an unexpected message from Ji Chang Wook.

"I'm about to start filming a movie. We're looking for a song for an important scene. Maybe you could think about it? Nothing official, just an idea."

Y/N smiled. She had never considered composing for a movie, but the thought of contributing to a project featuring Ji Chang Wook intrigued her.

"Send me the details, and I'll see what I can do," she replied.

A few days later, Ji Chang Wook invited her to visit the film set. Curious, Y/N accepted, though she was a bit nervous about seeing him in his professional element. When she arrived, she was immediately struck by the intense atmosphere. Technicians were bustling everywhere, and the crew seemed deeply focused.

Ji Chang Wook greeted her warmly, dressed in his character's costume. Despite the makeup and the serious demeanor he wore for the role, he couldn't hide the sparkle in his eyes upon seeing her.

"Welcome to my world," he said with a smile. "It's chaotic, but I love it."

Y/N watched the scenes being filmed with fascination. Between takes, Ji Chang Wook explained the story of the movie and the specific scene for which they were searching for a song.

"It's a pivotal moment," he explained. "The main character realizes he has to let go of someone he loves for their own good. It's painful but necessary."

The words resonated deeply with Y/N. This duality between love and letting go was a theme she understood well.

"I think I can write something," she replied, ideas already swirling in her mind.

That night, Y/N immersed herself in writing. The words flowed almost effortlessly, fueled by her own experiences and the emotions she had observed on set. Within a few hours, a soft and poignant melody had taken shape, accompanied by simple yet powerful lyrics.

The next day, she sent a demo recording to Ji Chang Wook. Shortly after, she received a call.

"Y/N, this is… incredible," he said, visibly moved. "It perfectly captures what we were looking for. You're truly a genius."

She laughed softly, embarrassed by the compliment.

"I'm glad you like it. I hope it fits the scene."

"Not just the scene. It's perfect for the entire movie. You have no idea how much this will touch the audience."

A few weeks passed, and Y/N's song officially became the centerpiece of the movie's soundtrack. To celebrate the collaboration, Y/N, in a burst of pride, invited Ji Chang Wook to dinner. It was more of a subtle kidnapping than an invitation.

---

Ji Chang Wook had just wrapped up a particularly grueling day of filming when he received a message from Y/N:

"You’ve always been the one to reach out, but this time, it’s my turn. I want to celebrate our collaboration. Dinner this Friday—what do you say? No refusals, I insist."

He read the message several times, an incredulous smile spreading across his lips. Y/N, usually so reserved, was taking the initiative. This simple gesture, so unusual coming from her, deeply moved him.

A strange mix of surprise and pleasure washed over him. He was used to being the one to initiate their exchanges, whether to discuss the project or simply to joke around. But this was different. It felt as though she was reaching out to him in return, and it stirred a warmth within him he hadn’t anticipated.

He stretched out on the couch in his dressing room, unable to focus on anything else. His mind wandered, exploring the implications of her gesture. Was it merely a professional acknowledgment, or was there something more?

A feeling he rarely experienced began to surface: he felt wanted. Not in the superficial way he was used to because of his fame, but in an intimate, genuine sense. Y/N, with her shyness and gentle demeanor, had broken an invisible barrier to invite him into her world.

He quickly replied, his tone slightly playful but sincere:

"A subtle kidnapping, really? I’m curious to see what you’ve planned. I’m happy to surrender to this ‘capture.’"

The rest of the week was marked by an unusual anticipation. Ji Chang Wook, an actor accustomed to the spotlight and high expectations, found himself thinking about the dinner more often than he cared to admit.

He wondered what restaurant she would choose, what she would say, how she would act. Would she remain as composed as usual, or would she reveal a more relaxed side of herself?

For him, it wasn’t just a dinner to celebrate a collaboration. Not anymore. It represented an evolution in their relationship, a step forward that he wouldn’t have dared to push for.

He was willing to wait as long as she needed to open up to him, but this initiative made him feel like she was starting to let him in. And that made him feel unexpectedly vulnerable.

Ji Chang Wook realized then that this wasn’t just artistic admiration or a fleeting fascination. His feelings for Y/N were rooted far deeper than he had anticipated.

"I'm doomed," he murmured with a smile as he adjusted his tie for the evening.

When Friday arrived, he was ready. And for once, he wasn’t trying to impress. He just wanted to be there, with her, and see where the evening would lead.

---

Ji Chang Wook arrived at the place indicated by Y/N, a small restaurant tucked away in a quiet alley in Seoul, far from the glitzy venues he was used to. The place exuded a simplicity and authenticity that matched Y/N perfectly.

As he entered, he spotted her immediately. She was sitting by a window, dressed in a white blouse and jeans—casual yet elegant. She was absentmindedly fiddling with a ring on her finger, as if trying to calm her nerves before his arrival.

When she looked up and saw him, her face lit up with a genuine smile.

— "Ah, you're here," she said, a bit nervously. "I was hoping you wouldn’t stand me up."

— "Are you kidding?" he replied, pulling out a chair. "I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Besides, how could I pass up the chance to get kidnapped, right?"

They shared a light laugh, and the initial tension quickly dissipated.

The meal began in a relaxed atmosphere. Y/N had chosen a simple menu, and Ji Chang Wook appreciated the modesty of the place. They started by talking about mundane things: the filming, the kids at the center, the song Y/N had composed.

Then, little by little, the conversation turned more personal.

— "You know," Ji Chang Wook began, idly playing with his glass of water, "you surprised me with this invitation. It almost feels like you're trying to thank me for something I haven’t even done yet."

Y/N blushed slightly and looked down at her plate.

— "Well… you’ve already done a lot. Not just for the song or the movie, but… for me."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

— "For you?"

— "Yes," she murmured. "Since we’ve started talking, I feel like… I can just be myself. You don’t see me as just a singer or an actress. You actually listen. And that means a lot."

Her words, simple but heartfelt, struck Ji Chang Wook deeply. He leaned slightly toward her, resting his elbows on the table.

— "Y/N, it’s not hard to listen to you. You have a way of reaching people, not just with your music, but with your presence. You might not see it, but you have a calming effect on those around you. On me, at least."

She looked up, surprised by his confession.

— "On you?"

— "Yes," he replied earnestly. "You remind me that there are simple and genuine things in this world, things worth holding onto. And I’m glad you let me be part of your world."

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward but charged with a gentle, unexpected intensity. Y/N nervously played with a strand of her hair, while Ji Chang Wook, on his side, studied every nuance of her expression.

Then she broke the silence with a small, nervous laugh.

— "It’s funny, I thought I was the one who’d be thanking you tonight, and here we are with the roles reversed."

— "Maybe we should just thank each other," he said with a smile.

Y/N nodded, her smile widening.

— "Alright. Thank you, then."

They continued their dinner, discussing future projects and sharing stories about their lives. As the evening went on, Y/N felt more at ease, and Ji Chang Wook realized he was happier in that moment than at any glamorous party or red carpet event.

As they left the restaurant, Y/N suggested taking a walk. The night air was crisp, and the streets were quiet. They walked side by side, silent at first, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Eventually, Y/N stopped and turned to face him.

— "Ji Chang Wook… thank you for coming tonight. I know I’m not always great at expressing myself, but… this meant a lot to me."

He stepped a little closer, meeting her gaze.

— "Y/N, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I need to say something. I’m glad we started this… collaboration. But for me, it’s more than just a project or a song. I genuinely appreciate the person you are."

She stood still, her cheeks flushing slightly. She opened her mouth to respond, but Ji Chang Wook raised his hand gently.

— "You don’t have to respond right now. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, no matter what."

Y/N slowly nodded, moved by his sincerity and patience.

They resumed their walk, their steps gradually falling in sync. The night stretched ahead of them, full of promises and possibilities yet to be explored.

---

Ji Chang Wook and Y/N were sharing an impromptu lunch on set. Between bites, he suddenly said:

— "I have an idea."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

— "Oh? Another brilliant idea for the movie, I suppose?"

He smiled, but his tone turned more serious.

— "Not exactly. Listen, you’ve been working so hard lately. You deserve a break. How about taking the weekend off with me? Just the two of us."

Her eyes widened, caught off guard.

— "Go where?"

— "There’s a village in the countryside I love. Quiet, secluded, no one to bother us. We could relax, recharge. And maybe… get to know each other better."

His gaze was intense but devoid of any pressure. Y/N felt her heart race, both unsettled and drawn to his proposal.

— "That’s… spontaneous," she murmured, trying to mask her nerves with a smile.

— "Spontaneity has its perks," he replied. "And sometimes, we need to escape the routine, don’t you think?"

After a long pause, she nodded.

— "Alright. But if it gets weird, I’m making you walk back to Seoul."

He burst out laughing.

— "Deal."

The journey to the village was filled with light-hearted conversations, but every glance they exchanged carried a quiet intensity. When they arrived, Y/N was struck by the serenity of the place. Rolling green hills stretched as far as the eye could see, and a gentle river wound its way through the landscape.

They settled into a quaint guesthouse, where the owners greeted them with warm smiles. After freshening up, Ji Chang Wook invited Y/N for a walk.

They strolled in silence, soaking in the beauty of the setting sun. Then, on a whim, Ji Chang Wook gently took her hand.

— "It’s to keep you from tripping," he said with a mischievous smile.

Y/N felt a shiver run through her but didn’t pull her hand away.

— "You’re so considerate," she replied, feigning a teasing tone to hide her unease.

After dinner, they decided to sit by the stream, where the starry sky seemed infinitely vast. The atmosphere was intimate, almost magical.

— "It’s beautiful here," Y/N whispered, her eyes fixed on the stars.

— "It’s even more beautiful with you here," Ji Chang Wook replied without hesitation.

She turned to him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice.

— "Are you always this straightforward?" she asked, her smile uncertain.

He shrugged, his gaze steady on her.

— "Only when I feel something real."

Their eyes met, and a charged silence filled the space between them. Ji Chang Wook hesitated for a moment before lifting a hand to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

— "You’re incredible, Y/N. And I don’t just mean your talent. There’s something about you—this light—that draws me in, captivates me."

Her heart pounded furiously.

— "Ji Chang Wook, I…"

He didn’t let her finish. Slowly, cautiously, he leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft yet brimming with restrained passion.

Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she responded with an intensity she didn’t know she possessed. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of their own.

When they finally broke apart, slightly breathless, Ji Chang Wook murmured:

— "I’m sorry if that was too sudden. But I couldn’t… wait any longer."

Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, her eyes shining with an emotion she couldn’t hide.

— "It wasn’t too sudden," she said softly. "It was… perfect."

Back at the guesthouse, Ji Chang Wook suggested they sit by the fireplace. They spent hours talking, sharing their fears, dreams, and hopes.

At one point, Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close.

— "I don’t know where this will take us," she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.

— "Neither do I," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But I know I don’t want to lose you."

That night, under the stars and the crackling fire, they let their hearts open fully to one another, crossing a boundary they both knew they could never ignore again.

..................................................................................

[l1vchuu]

resentment. part two

!! warnings: fainting, eating disorders, slow burn, angst, mainly focused on f!reader.

You closed your eyes as you waited, waiting for it to pass. The soft tone of her voice rang in your ears, scraping them like sandpaper to wood. Amelia wasn’t alone, nor was she with Ghost, she was talking to somebody else. You could barely pick up the voice of the other person, but for sure it was a deep, male voice. 

Alejandro, you thought to yourself. Yeah, everybody knows how flirty he can get, no wonder why he would stick to her like a mosquito. 

“So, you said you were from where? You have a slight accent. Wait- let me guess- Texas?”

The girl laughed at his guess, shaking her head.

“Nope, try again!”

“Okay, okay… Missouri?”

Amelia laughed even harder. 

“Kansas.” 

She finally admitted, a big smile planted on her delicate, soft face. Alejandro brought a hand up his face, shaking his head in disappointment. 

So, if Ghost isn’t with her, where is he then?

Your computer monitor turned on and lit up your face, making you squint your eyes, adjusting to the sudden appearance of light. You returned your attention to your monitor, completely ignoring the back-to-back flirt in the hallway. You opened up the browser, getting ready to start the working day. 

It was 12 pm, the sun was shining and the sky was oh so clear, with a few soft transparent clouds placed randomly among it. The gentle soft sun rays entered your office, brightening the room. You had already opened a window or two, letting the breeze in. Piles of papers and files were stacked on your desk, most of them marked and signed with highlighters and red pens. Since you were still taking a break from the previous mission, all you have to do now is paperwork, which was easy for you. The last time Captain Price called you, he said that you weren’t going on any missions anytime soon, since a teammate got severely injured on the way back to base, leading him to his passing. That was the reason for Amelia's appearance- to fill a hole in the team until someone else arrives. Someone better.

You yawned, taking a slight break from working- you had the whole day to get done with it, so why not take a walk around the base?

You stood up from your chair, stretching your arms and legs, hence you’ve been working since 6 am. You took off your blue light glasses as you headed out the door, closing it behind you. You looked around- it was another work day for everyone. Turning your heel, you began walking towards the shooting range. On your way, you passed through Ghost and Kyle’s office, taking a slight peek, you finally saw Simon. Your eyes lit up but did they lit up with rage or happiness? He was sitting at his desk, checking papers. Simon was wearing his balaclava only, not even bothering to put on eye grease like he usually does. As his eyes began to look your way, you immediately picked up the pace, passing through every office until you found the range. 

Your heartbeat has fastened again,

Why did I react like that? 

You couldn’t understand, why did you walk away, when you could’ve gotten inside or at least said hi? 

But, no, he didn’t deserve that. He couldn’t even bother asking where had you been last night, why was your body covered up in bandages? But you knew you couldn’t tell him, it’s not like he doesn’t know your past- he knows everything about you. And it pained you even more, seeing your puffy eyes, seeing your body, it ached for him. You ached for him. Did he even notice? Did he notice your existence at all? Did Amelia completely delete every memory of you? Was he in love with her? 

Why did you care if he was- He was your best friend, right? Right.

Do best friends cry every time they feel like the other doesn’t pay attention to them? Do best friends sob every night, wanting to feel the other's touch and affection? Do best friends harm themselves when they feel like they’re not enough for the other? Do best friends lose themselves for the other? 

You rested your back against the wall, trying to keep your balance. As everyone leaves their offices to eat lunch, you hear footsteps coming toward you. You turned your head in their direction- Soap, with a gentle smile, approached you.

“Well hello there!”

He stands beside you as you nodded at him, forcing a quick smile.

“Wanna eat? I’m starving!” 

Soap says as he puts an arm around you, pulling you with him. As he continued the way down the cafeteria he was blabbing all about his day, getting mad as he spoke. But you barely paid any attention to him, it’s like your ears are filled with white noise.

When you approached the table, you sat across from Johnny.

“Hey, why didn’t you get any food?” 

“I’m not hungry, I ate before this.”

You lied. You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch. The only thing in your stomach was the coffee from this morning.  And- if you were to eat anything, the first thing you would be able to do is to throw it all up so you weren’t hungry at all.

Soap nodded, eating his lunch as you two sat in silence. He looked at you, wondering about something. He knew something had changed in you, he just couldn’t place a finger on what. He notices your swollen eyes:

“Have you gotten any sleep? You look like a corpse.”

“Very funny.”

“No, like, not joking. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Johnny. It’s just stress, you know the drill.”

“Just making sure, you know.”

“Don’t worry about me, where is Gas?”

“Kyle is on cleaning duty- he accidentally broke the printer in Price's office.”

He held onto his laugh. Your eyes widened.

“No way! How did he manage to fuck up like that?”

“Don’t know, it’s a talent at this point!”

You laughed, calming down a little bit. Soap was usually the person who messed stuff up and got punished later in the process. You looked around, your eyes scanning the cafeteria. You know who you are looking for. He wasn’t there. Johnny caught your gaze, again, something was off. 

“So uhh, I haven’t seen you talk to Ghost in a while, did something happen?”

You almost choked on your spit as you looked at him, your pupils dilating. 

Shit.

“Nah, just work.”

Johnny knew, of course, since him and Ghost are close, too. He decided not to integrate any further so he just nodded. Simon told him about you, and his situationship with Amelia. 

Everybody knew how close you and Simon are, since you’ve always been together, weather it was in training or just hanging out. On the other hand, everyone thought that you were dating at some point, which usually made you laugh. 

Johnny thought for a minute, wondering if he wanted to tell you or not. He knew about your feelings, especially with the new recruit coming along, he understood you. But he thought it would be better to tell you sooner or later. 

“Amelia and Ghost are hooking up.”

And that was the worst way he could’ve told you, but he did. You looked at him, unfazed. 

“I know.”

No, I didn’t, but now things were clearer. 

A few hours have passed since lunch and you tried so hard to accept the news, but your body had other plans. Your stomach twisted at every thought about it, making you feel sick. You were sick.

…

It has been a month, and you couldn’t feel worse. 

One day you were at your desk, filling papers until you felt your head almost burst open from pain. You winced, holding your head in your hands, you couldn’t feel a thing, only immense pain. Your head was throbbing and throbbing, until your body felt lighter- then you fainted. 

Usually, nobody comes to your desk at this late hour, so absolutely no one noticed. As your unconscious body was laying on your desk, your office phone rang- it was Price. The ringing continued for a while, the vibrations causing your desk to shake a bit. But you were laying there, you weren't there.

After he called you about three times, he came to your office. At first, he thought you were sleeping and called your name even louder- but when you didn’t answer, he went closer to check on you, and then he saw. The realization hit him.

As he checked your pulse, he sighed out of relief. Without panicking, he called a medic to get you checked.

You had a dream again.

You were laying in a field and the smell of grass and flowers filled your lungs. The nice spring wind was dancing in the air, you have never felt so peaceful. The birds sang beautifully and you were staring at the clear sky. The weather wasn't cold, yet not too warm. In the distance you could see a path, leading to a nearby lake.

Maybe I should go there.

You stood up, the wind welcoming you as it flew through your hair. You walked through the field, the beautiful sight making you feel full. You couldn't have been happier.

When you got to the lake, you sat on the porch. The coldness of the wood hitting your legs, you looked around. This place felt similar to you, you've been there before. You rested on the porch for a while, letting your legs soak in the lake water as you enjoyed the view- the trees resting on top of the lake, birds flying in and out of them as if they were playing tag.

All of these creatures- yet you still felt so alone.

So alone, you wanted to tear your body to pieces, hoping that would make you feel needed- maybe even cared for. But you weren't.

The only person who understood every particle of your brain is gone now. He wasn't there. It's like you never existed to him. All of these empty glances and smiles. Why?

Why is he not there when you need it the most? Oh, wait. He caused it. He made you do this. Or did he? What if it's all you? What if it is all your fault?

It is your fault.

A bird came up to you, sweet and little. You lowered your head to look at it, smiling. It looked up at you with its' cute and small eyes. And then it spoke to you.

Who are you?

You blinked, your brain registering the information.

I'm talking to you! Who are you?

You tilted your head, not knowing how to answer.

I'm a human.

I can see that, but it's not what I'm asking. Who are you?

You stopped for a bit, confused. You didn't quite understand what the bird was asking you.

You don't look quite good, what happened to you?

It was true, you didn't look good. Your eyes were swollen and a bit red- a purple tint around them, forming black circles.

Nothing happened. I'm okay.

You're lying, you don't look okay.

I'm just a little tired. You know, from work and all.

Only tired? You look like you're sick.

Yeah, I haven't eaten in a while.

Why don't you eat?

It's complicated. You're a bird, you won't understand it.

Maybe I'm a bird, but I can see when someone doesn't feel good. What is your work like?

It's not for everyone. It's harsh and dangerous.

Do you think you can handle that?

I've worked there for a lot of time, and I could handle it.

I'm supposed to be strong, right? You thought to yourself.

But you look weak, are you sure you're made for it?

It's just temporary, I'll get better.

Are you sure? When I feel tired from carrying sticks, I take a break. Why don't you take a break?

Why don't you take a break?

You thought about that for a bit, you could take a break. A long brake. A vacation even. Why don't you just quit the job? I mean, you could. You can just leave and return to your hometown, and start living a new life, apart from all the torture and pain.

That sounds good, but all of my friends are there.

If all of your friends are there, why do you still feel this way? My friends help me when I'm sad- and I help them.

But I don't have anyone back home.

That's not true- you have yourself. One person can change a lot of things in your life, why can't that person be you? You could always make new friends.

But I don't feel great when I'm alone.

Learning to like solitude takes time, but you'll get there eventually.

A whistle could be heard from the distance, making the bird jump.

Oh, that was for me- I have to go! See you around!

The bird flew into the trees, leaving you alone again. That encounter left you speechless for a while.

Maybe the bird was right. You can always leave.

-

When you woke up, you weren’t in the place where you fell asleep in. You looked around, trying to understand the situation. When the nurse came in, she told you everything. You had fainted out of exhaustion.

When you felt better enough to walk, you asked if you could get checked out. She nodded, writing stuff on her pad as she checks you out. She also told you to visit Price’s office. You thanked her and went straight to his door. As you knocked, he told you to come in. When you came in, he smiled at you:

“Feeling better?”

You nodded. He motions you to sit on the chair, and you did that.

You sat in silence for a bit.

"Look, you might not know it- but the boys are worried about you. You stay in your office all day-"

"I want to take a break."

You interrupt, looking at him with your swollen eyes. He nods.

"A break? Sure, you can take a break."

"When can I leave?"

"How long will you be leaving for? Two weeks? One week?"

"A month."

"A month? Are you sure about that- I mean- I could give you that but we'll have to replace you."

"No, I'm sure."

"Okay then, I'll file the papers later and you can leave tomorrow morning. Is that okay for you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, do you want me to say anything to the rest of the team?"

"No, sir."

He nods again.

"You can go and get your things ready, Sergant. Have a nice break and..."

He pauses for a bit.

"Stay safe."

You nodded as you stood up and headed to the door. You exited and went back to your room. It was empty, no wonder.

Fortunately, Ghost was on a night shift, which meant that you wouldn't have to explain yourself. It's not like he would care, right?

You packed your things and laid on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. You'll be leaving in an hour.

When the time came, you left the base. Gladly nobody noticed your leave.

But Ghost came home to an empty room. All of the pictures on the walls, your clothes, everything was gone, including you.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.☆.｡.:

Heyy! I apologize for the late post, I've been busy with school and all that, but here I am. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. If you want part three, make sure to like or reblog- I'm open to suggestions!

[kissesbyliz]

the interrogation

(feat. john price, johnny "soap" mactavish)

cw: smut!! mdni, dubcon, fem!reader, assassin!reader, orgasm denial, mean price and soap

you were being forcefully led through a dimly lit hallway. two men were on either side of you, a big hand taking place on the small of your back and maintaining a firm pressure as it forced you forward. you tried your best to plant your feet on the floor, to resist the situation as best you could, but it was all fruitless as the hand urging you on was just that damn strong.

you gritted your teeth, glaring over your shoulder at the man shoving you. he only shot you a mocking smile in response. his blue eyes soon narrowed as he gave you another push to keep you in motion. strangely, you found it alluring enough that you think you would feel an attraction to it, if it weren't for his fingers digging painfully into your skin.

"keep walkin'." he said harshly, his scottish accent gruff against your ears.

"try not to dig yourself into an even bigger hole, love." the man on your left advised, eyes regarding you with warning. he was the one who had subdued you, you recognized, a faint memory of leaning against his burly chest as he carried you resurfacing in your mind.

you all finally arrived at an interrogation room. you were forcefully ordered to sit down, and you planted yourself on the seat they had pulled out for you unceremoniously. you slid your handcuffed hands onto the surface of the table, glaring at the two men as they rounded it. the one who had been on your left took his place in the chair in front of you. the scottish man remained standing beside his companion, bracing his hands on the metal table to lean over it and gaze at you with scrutiny. you tried to hide your shiver, though you were unable to discern if it was from the chill of the room or from the pressure of their stares.

the man in front of you offered you a sleek smile, his eyes slightly crinkling at the corners, "now, since we're all going to be getting to know each other very well, i think some introductions are in order, don't you think?"

"you can call me price." he nodded to his ally, "you can call that big guy over there soap."

you refused to grant them your name and clenched your jaw. you figured they already knew damn well who you were, having plucked you from your assignment and tossed you in their escort vehicle. price ignored your silence, continuing, "why don't we start off with something easy? you know why you're here?"

"for a good time?" you retorted sarcastically. the men looked at each other, before soap leaned in closer to your face.

"come on, you seem like a smart girl. answer our questions, and we'll consider not having to ruin that pretty face of yours." he sneered. you debated challenging the threat, but opted not to as you figured it wouldn't get you any closer to escaping their containment.

you cocked your head to the side, finally responding, "because i killed your soldiers?"

"assassinated at least a dozen of our men right in their homes. it sure was a real pain in our ass trying to look for you too. isn't that right, johnny?" price corrected you immediately, glancing back at his ally. soap nodded in response, not breaking eye contact with you.

"who d'you work for?" he cut to the chase. the sharpness in his gaze told you that he wasn't fucking around, but you refused to let him intimidate you.

you scoffed in mock amusement, "must be dumber than you look, if you really think i would tell you bastards."

soap grinned meanly, "you're going to, if y'know what's best for ya'."

he leaned back to full height. the sheer size of his figure standing over you was enough to make you instinctively shrink back into your chair.

"think she needs some encouragement, captain." he reported to his leader, something scary lacing his low tone.

"think you're right, johnny." an impending grin slowly stretched across price's face as he confirmed, and you gulped.

"what kind of encouragement?" you demanded, not meaning to make it sound as nervous as it came out. you instantly rejected the apprehension bubbling in your chest with everything you had, urgently reminding yourself of your training. that you could easily kill these people if you so wanted-

"the kind that'll make you talk, sweetheart." his chair scraped loudly on the floor as he stood up to walk around the table, now standing directly beside you. gazing up at him, you came to an odd realization that made something warm bloom in your core; he looks like he could take complete control over you, like he could treat you any way he so desired. it's a foreign thought that you hated to admit wasn't entirely unwelcomed, as you had never felt it seeing anyone else before.

"i'm not scared of you." you felt the need to assert, knowing damn well that you're lying. if your stomach churning in unease had to say anything about it.

a callous laugh rumbled from price's chest, before his tone shifted to something sinister, "get on your knees."

you sat for a second frozen in place. apparently a second too long for him, as his hand soon tangled itself in your hair and forced you to the ground. you yelped at the force, your knees hitting the ground with a painful thud.

"now, you're going to sit here and take what i'm gonna give you, until you feel like talking to us."

his fingers began to work at his belt, shoving it down along with his trousers to reveal a half hardened dick, already leaking with precum. he didn't bother to wait for you to move, opting to drag your head for you so your soft lips slid along the base of his thick cock.

the slight bit of contact made him groan, peering down at you with half lidded eyes, "open those pretty lips for me, love. and i promise i'll make this less painful for you."

you had no choice but to obey, wrapping your mouth around the tip of his thick cock and drawing a heavy sigh from him. fuck, as much as you didn't want it, you couldn't help the arousal that was beginning to pool in your core, mixing in with your fear and making you positively burn.

he thrusted harshly into your mouth and drew a gag from your throat. he only groaned at the vibrations, using his hand in your hair as leverage to fuck up deeper into you. suddenly overcome with the need to take more of him, to taste more of him, you relaxed your throat as best as you can.

"well, don't take all the fun, cap'." you glanced over to see soap, fisting his own dick in his hands as his chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. you whimpered involuntarily as you briefly forgot the circumstance you were in.

"listen to her whine, johnny. reckon she wants you as well." price chuckled, "that what you want, princess?"

you glared up at him, grasping at straws to hang onto that little bit of dignity you had left. but fuck, if it was hard trying to keep up your act with two men so eager for you.

soap walked over to you, positioning his length in front of your face. you released price's cock with a slick pop! as soap guided you to take him into your mouth with a hand in your hair.

he's a little smaller than price had been, but just as thick. you closed your eyes, mewling as you bobbed your head up and down.

"fuck, her throat feels good, sir." he grunted above you, hips thrusting slightly into your mouth.

"that it does, johnny." price agreed with a chuckle. he crouched down to your height, palming one of your breasts through your thin, long sleeved compression shirt.

"let's get some of these clothes off, hm?" he commented smoothly, before reaching up to your collar and shredding the shirt in half.

you instantly moved to free the member in your mouth to gape at the bearded man beside you in indignation, "what the fuck-"

your words are then muffled by soap shoving his cock back into your mouth with a grunt. you planted your hands on his thighs, trying to urge him to ease up so you could yell at price for exposing you. however, his hips only sped up, his dick moving in and out of your mouth faster.

price snickered at your actions, shoving your bra up to free your breasts, "funny, how you thought you could hide these from us, darling." he sighed, fondling your bare tits with his warm hands.

eventually, he stood back up and placed a hand on soap's chest. the pressure in your throat immediately subsided as the man obediently backed away from you.

"that's enough. look at her, mactavish. looks like she's begging to be ruined, don't you think?"

"looks like she needs to be put in her place, sir." soap panted, broad chest heaving up and down. you stared up at them dumbly from below while you caught your own breath.

"lay down on the table, lovie." you slowly complied with their commands, the chill of the metal freezing against your back. a quiet whine left your throat as you began to feel the wetness pooling in your slick underwear.

soap slotted himself in between your unconsciously spread legs, the overcast of the light above him making him look that much more more threatening. thick fingers hooked themselves under the waistband of your pants in order to eagerly rake them down along with your panties. he tossed your garments onto the floor carelessly.

your legs are then callously spread apart. the man above you groaned thickly as every single inch of you was finally revealed to the two of them. you saw price licking his lips, placing a hand on one of your thighs to keep you splayed open for them.

"we're gonna take turns using you, and if you tell us what we want to know, we'll think about letting you cum." price explained slowly so you can carefully process every word. he moved his hand to your cheek to caress it gingerly, distracting you momentarily before-

soap pushed in with a growl, the intrusion stretching you out painfully as a result from the lack of prep. you let out a heated moan, your legs kicking up against his torso in order to get him to slow down his motions. to your surprise, he decided to take mercy on you and set a moderate pace in order to let you get adjusted to his big length. his cock dragged achingly inside your cunt as you whined in protest.

"none of that now, bonnie." he breathed above you, hands nudging your legs away. he seemed very contented at the feeling of your slick walls wrapped around him, muttering expletives under his breath.

you eventually managed to get adjusted to the stretch, whining as the pull of his member deliberately began to feel good. he sped up his thrusts gradually, quickly working you up to your peak. your pleasure climbed higher and higher, moans ripping themselves free from your chest.

"let's try this again. who do you work for?"

"fuck- fuck you."

soap's hand reached down between your bodies to work at your clit, rubbing pleasurable circles that drew endless whines from your lips. you began to feel that familiar knot in your stomach tightening as pleasure raked all throughout your body. you squeezed around him, shutting your eyes tightly and preparing for a harsh orgasm when-

he pulls out all of a sudden, his fingers promptly withdrawing from your pussy. your cunt ached at the sudden emptiness. you cried out in distress, feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to fade away.

"y'wanna come?"

"yes!" you argued, hands reaching down to try and pull him back towards you. he obliged you with a dark chuckle, but refused to slide his length back inside you.

"then you're gonna tell us who put you on that mission. or you're never gonna feel that sweet release."

"like i'm ever gonna tell you- fuck!" you cried out in pain as a sharp slap! landed on your pussy at your response.

"try again, bonnie." soap sneered, finally sliding back into you. you sobbed as his harsh thrusts started up again, easing you right back into that pleasurable haze. before you knew it, you were barreling closer and closer into another orgasm. you panted as you felt yourself tighten around him again, preparing to gush all over his cock.

however, that climax is crudely stolen from you as well. as well the one after that, and the one after that.

before you knew it, you were forced to endure a brutal fucking while countless of your orgasms were ruined. your chest heaved as your body bounced up and down the length of the table, then stilled as soap pulled out of you to reject your orgasm yet again.

desperation for your release began to take hold in your brain. you could physically feel your resolve beginning to crack, your mind frantically casting out any amounts of rationale to make room for just how badly you needed to cum.

later, when you're sitting in that cold jail cell, you'll curse yourself to hell for what you were about to utter in the spur of the moment. but at that minute, when your pussy was beginning to hurt from the lack of release, all voices of reason flew from your head as you finally blurted out, "alvarez!"

a wolfish grin stretched against price's face as you continued, "fuck, he knew you guys were getting too close to finding his operation, so he needed me to take out everyone who knew anything! now, please let me cum!" your eyes screwed shut in frustration, panting heavily at your confession.

"knew you had it in 'ya." soap praised with a triumphant grin as he pushed back inside, speeding up his thrusts exactly the way you've been needing.

a brief image of being brutally eliminated by one of alvarez' men for squealing flashed across your mind, but you didn't care.

you just needed to fucking cum.

that knot in your stomach reappeared for what had to be the twentieth time that night, and you sobbed at the waves of pleasure that raked through your body. you're brought closer and closer to that edge, and finally, finally, you came all over his thick cock, soaking his pelvis in your juices. the force of your orgasm ripping through you made you cry out, moaning loudly as he fucked you all throughout your high.

eventually, white hot pleasure turned to overstimulation, and soap retreated with a breathless chuckle when you began to push at his hips.

you barely got a second to breathe, to process the powerful climax you just had, before price replaced johnny between your legs.

"you're not- you're not done?" you gaped in disbelief. you attempted to push him off, knowing any stimulation you would feel after your harsh release would just border on intolerable.

"just a sec, dear. now i have to have you, after seeing you cum like that." his darkened eyes were glazed over with lust as you looked up at him. his cock was red and angry, twitching as he positioned himself over your entrance.

he thrusted all the way inside you with a groan. your pussy ached at the intrusion, his cock reaching even deeper inside of you than soap. he immediately took to an unforgiving pace, prioritizing his pleasure over anything else. tears began to pool at your eyes at the stimulation, but you couldn't deny how good it felt to have a cock fucking you again.

price leaned over you to latch his mouth on one of your nipples, drawing out a long moan from you. high pitched whines left your mouth as his cock bullied its way into your cunt repeatedly.

all of sudden, you felt overwhelming ecstasy again as you unexpectedly released all over his length with a sob. his hips continued fucking into you for a moment, before he finished inside of you with a loud grunt.

the room was devoid of any words for a couple minutes, the only sounds being the harsh breaths coming from you and price. you finally rose from your supine position, sitting up tiredly on the edge of the table to peer at them.

"did good for us, princess." price nodded with a wide smile. "might have to do this again some other time. what d'you say?"

"next time, why don't we invite ghost and gaz over?" soap suggested, the names making your stomach drop in dread. "no way we can keep this cunt all to ourselves."

[inou-ie]

Hello, how you doing? Can I please have yan Jinglie x Blade's younger sister. Basically, his sister is youngerin a year. She is also part of Stellaron Hunter, but she is more has more softer side. Jingliu was always in love with them, untill they left woth Blade. However, one day Jingliees Blade's sister in Xianzhou, and decide why not to kidnap them and make them hers? (Hopefully I didn't confused you).

Author's notes: I'm sorry, this took so long... I hope I got it right though! Since you asked about yandere before, I thought you'd like it this way.

Warnings: slight NSFW, yandere, kidnapping, stalking.

MDNI

Joining the Stellaron Hunters to care for your older brother is akin to having a second job. You must be there for him, recognizing the possibility of his losing control, rather than relying solely on Kafka's abilities.

You and Blade are consistently assigned to missions together, whereas your brother often operates independently. This pattern persisted during your mission in Xianzhou Luofu, as he ventured solo, leaving you to operate alone.

Frustrated by the constant effort to keep pace with him, you resolved to complete the mission solo. As you surveyed the surroundings, a flood of memories engulfed you, recalling the diverse individuals with whom you had interacted in this very place.

However, an unsettling feeling gnawed at you. It seemed as though someone had been watching you from the moment you entered this place. You glanced around, but there was no one in sight.

Putting the mission aside and continuing to walk in an attempt to lose the mysterious pursuer turned out to be a grave error. You eventually found yourself at a dead end, and a chilling sensation crept down your spine as the surroundings grew colder with each passing moment.

"...you.. have returned..." a cold voice from behind caused you to pivot around, revealing a woman wearing a black blindfold, advancing toward you with deliberate, unhurried steps.

"Who are you?" You swiftly raised your guard, yet a bone-chilling coldness filled the air as she inched closer. "Have you... forgotten about me?" The woman paused, then delicately removed her blindfold, revealing her piercing red eyes fixed intently upon you.

In that moment, a rush of memories flooded your mind. You took a closer look at her face and breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that this woman was, in fact, an old companion.

"Jingliu?" You muttered, studying the woman once more. A faint smile graced her lips as she approached you. "That's right... I'm glad you came back." she said, her voice carrying a chilly tone. She stood before you, her hand reaching for your cheek, gently rubbing her thumb against it.

Her touch, though both gentle and firm, was unmistakably familiar. A chuckle escaped your lips; how could you ever forget the person you used to spend time with?

"...n't leave..." You heard Jingliu mumble something, and your curiosity piqued as you leaned in closer. "Did you say something?" You asked with curiosity. After several moments of silence, you felt her grip on your chin as she locked eyes with you with an intense gaze.

"You can't leave me again..." Jingliu uttered before she moved her hand toward your face. Her cold hand covered your eyes. Just as you attempted to pull away, an intense and numbing coldness washed over your mind. You groaned in pain while struggling to break free, but she held you tightly with her arm around your waist, her hand still seemingly freezing your thoughts.

"What are you doing?!" You continued to struggle against her, but it proved futile; her strength remained as formidable as ever. Jingliu didn't utter a word, and you felt your mind growing blank as you slowly lost consciousness.

You jolted awake with a start, sensing a weight on your body, only to find Jingliu atop you. She smiled to herself while gently caressing your face. "You'll be with me forever..." She mumbled softly before planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

With your eyes half-opened, you strained to scan the dim surroundings, but darkness obscured everything, and your mind remained clouded. "What did you do to me..." you whispered weakly, attempting to shift, but Jingliu clung to you tightly, using her weight to keep you pinned down.

"This is where you belong... by my side," Jingliu whispered, her finger tracing a chilling path along your neck. "I won't ever let you go, not again." she added, her smile taking on a wicked edge as her red eyes gleamed in the darkness.

You groaned as Jingliu shifted her position, now seated on top of you. She gazed down at you while keeping you pinned down. "I love you..." she mumbled before cupping your cheeks in her hands. "I love you so much." she repeated, seemingly waiting for your reaction.

"What are you even saying..." you muttered under your breath, noticing Jingliu's expression darkening. She grabbed your neck with both hands and leaned down. "That's not right, you were supposed to say you love me back." she whispered dangerously against your throat.

Jingliu tilted your head upward slightly, her mouth drawing even closer to your throat. Her hands felt cold against your skin. "Let me go– ah..." a sudden moan escaped your lips when she licked your throat up to your chin.

Her breath hitched when she heard you moan, and it only served to fuel her desire even more. Jingliu's tongue continued to explore your neck, drawing shapes on your skin that sent shivers down your spine. She nipped at the soft flesh just below your earlobe before sucking gently, her hot breath causing goosebumps along your collarbone.

You could feel every inch of her nails digging into the sensitive skin behind your ears, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Despite yourself, a low growl rumbled from deep within your throat when she finally bit down hard on that vulnerable spot between neck and shoulder—the bite not quite painful but undeniably intense.

"I love you." she murmured once more into your ear, her voice hoarse with desire. Her tongue traced the outline of your earlobe before dipping inside, sending shivers down your spine.

You can't help but moan beneath her, squirming around while closing your eyes tightly. "It's been years... you must quell the longing you've stirred within me." Jingliu whispered with an air of longing and desire. Your eyes widen at the sight of Jingliu slowly removing her clothes before leaning down to embrace you.

"I'll never let you escape, my love.. Nothing can separate us ever again." Jingliu mumbled before your combined moans, cries, and whimpers echoed through the night air like a primal symphony...

[littlest-w01f]

Cures

Eris Vanserra x Celeste (Lucien x Oc's mini-series coming soon)

For @erisweekofficial

Eris week 2024 Masterlist

Day 3: Healing

Summary: After Eris was beaten bloody by his father, left abandoned in a shed, a witch finds him, she is more than willing to aid him

Cw: Wounds, blood

The sun had set hours ago, Eris was strung up in an abandoned shed miles outside any civilisation, crying was no use, and screaming for help wasn't one either, the cuts on his chest had slowly started to heal, the whip marks were cauterised, causing nothing but pain.

Eris hung limply from the chains, his head drooping forward as he struggled to remain conscious through the agony that wracked his body. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the musty odor of the decaying shed. Each labored breath sent fresh waves of pain radiating from his wounds.

Outside, the night pressed in, silent and uncaring. No saviour would come. He was utterly alone with his tormentor. A faint rustling came from the shadows at the back of the shed, his father returning. Eris tensed, dreading what new torments awaited him.

Heavy footsteps approached, hurried. "Oh, Mother," A soft voice, not his father. "What happened to you? Poor thing..." The voice tutted as gentle hands got him out of the chains.

When the female came into view, Eris' breathing got caught in his throat, her eyes were like pink diamonds, having little feline slits in them, hair to match, and her face was round, soft and innocent, contrasting her sharp eyes, concern etched over her features.

The young female, barely older than Eris himself, looked upon him with a mixture of shock, pity, and a hint of fear. Her large, gemstone-like eyes took in every detail of his battered form - the dried blood caked around gashes on his torso, the swollen bruises discolouring his skin, the vacant stare in his eyes. She let out a small gasp, covering her mouth with a delicate hand.

"Oh gods, what heartless creature did this to you?" She whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She glanced towards the door, she made up her mind, gently scooping him up into her arms as if he were a fragile doll.

Her touch, though gentle, sent jolts of agony coursing through his abused body. Yet there was something comforting about her warmth, her concern, it was a stark contrast to the cold brutality of his father.

"Who… who are you?" Eris managed to croak out, his voice raw from screaming. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to focus on her, each movement causing more pain. He winced, biting down on his lower lip to stifle a groan.

"You may call me Celeste," She spoke softly, "Who left you here? Not many Fae visit this part of the woods."

Celeste's name rolled off his tongue like a soothing balm, a stark contrast to the hellish reality of his situation. He could barely believe that such a kind soul existed amidst the cruelty of his world.

"My... Father... He brought me here," Eris murmured, his words slurred from pain and exhaustion. "He said I deserved punishment." He swallowed hard, his throat feeling raw and dry. "Why are you here? This place is dangerous…"

His gaze drifted to the door again, half expecting his father to burst in at any moment, only to find Celeste instead. It was confusing, overwhelming, yet somehow reassuring.

"I'm a witch," She admits casually, waving her hand to produce a bunch of different plants and salves.

Eris watched in awe as Celeste waved her hand, conjuring up veritable herbs and ointments. Witchcraft was often spoken of in hushed tones, seen as a threat to the established order. To see it before him now, used to ease his suffering, filled him with hope.

"Witchcraft is outlawed in Autumn..." He began weakly, his voice trailing off as he stared at the array of healing items. "But I don't care right now. Please, help me."

"Yeah, because we can just outlaw faeries." Celeste snorted, reaching for a paste to put on his cuts.

Celeste's flippant remark brought a wry smile to Eris' lips despite the agony. There was a spark of defiance in her tone, a refusal to be cowed by the oppressive forces that ruled their lands.

As she applied the cooling paste to his wounds, Eris felt a sense of peace wash over him. For the first time since being dragged into this nightmare, he allowed himself to relax, trusting in Celeste's ministrations.

"What's that?" He asked, pointing to a particularly vibrant dark purple herb. "It smells wonderful."

Celeste glanced up, her pink diamond eyes sparkling with amusement. "That's Nightshade Bloom. It has remarkable healing properties. Among other things... My friend from the Night Court got them for me."

"Nightshade? Isn't that poisonous?" Eris asked, intrigued despite his weakened state. He knew the basics of herbalism in Prythian from his studies, but this was beyond anything he'd encountered.

Celeste chuckled softly, her fingers deftly crushing the petals into a fine powder. "Poison and medicine are two sides of the same coin. It's all in how you use it." She mixed the Nightshade with a clear gel, forming a thick paste that glimmered in the dim light.

Carefully, she applied the mixture to Eris' worst wounds, humming a lilting tune under her breath. The pain receded, replaced by a warm tingling sensation that spread through his body. Eris found himself relaxing into her touch, lulled by the melody. "There now, when it dries, it means you've healed."

Eris watched, mesmerized, as Celeste worked her magic. With each application of the paste, he felt his body responding, the pain ebbing away, replaced by a strange sensation of renewal. Despite himself, he found his eyelids growing heavy, the rhythmic hum of her song lulling him into a state of peaceful numbness.

"I've never met a witch before," He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're… very different from what I imagined."

Celeste hummed as she moved behind him, taking care of his back, "What did you imagine witches look like?"

Eris sighed softly, the question drawing him further into a meditative trance. "An old crones, ugly and wicked," He confessed. "With pointed hats and brooms. But you… You're beautiful, kind."

A wave of warmth washed over him as Celeste touched his injured back, sending tendrils of pleasure weaving through his sore muscles. His eyes fluttered closed, his mind adrift on a sea of comfort and relief.

"And your magic… it's so gentle, so caring," he continued, his voice little more than a whisper. "Nothing like the wild storms or sudden lightning that people fear."

"Well, I could cause sudden lightening if that's what you prefer to see." Celeste joked. "Or flood this little shed."

Eris laughed weakly, the sound rough and ragged from disuse. There was something endearing about Celeste's brash humor, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere of his predicament.

"That might startle me," He teased back, attempting to lighten the mood despite the discomfort still plaguing his body. "Although, I think I prefer your gentler magic."

His eyes remained shut, the sensation of the Nightshade working its wonders on his back too pleasant to risk opening them. The rhythmic cadence of her movements lulled him into a relaxed state, his worries drifting away like leaves on the wind. "Thank you, love."

"Of course, just don't tell anyone about this..." Celeste whispered softly.

"I won't..." When Eris opened his eyes, the mysterious which was gone, leaving him alone in the shed.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

[daisies-daydreams]

HELLO HONEY !!

i’d like to request a ghost x reader fic where he’s a college athlete and the reader is the coach’s daughter. he attracts a lot of attention (i wonder why) and is used to getting who he wants and is pleasantly surprised when the readers uninterested at first :)

Try (CollegeAU!Simon Riley x F!Reader)

Pairing: Simon Riley x F!Reader Category: Fluff & Angst Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Themes, Drinking, Smoking, Attempted Drugging, Referenced Assault, Violence Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Hello! Thank you for your request! I apologize: I tried my best to understand rugby, but it's not really popular where I'm from. It's just a sport that I thought would fit Simon the best. I hope you enjoy!

(Minor spoiler: Simon is not the one who drugs your drink).

Image Source: Pexels

-> Ch. 2

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Simon rubbed the red mark on his cheek, his eyes lingering on the woman who was pulling her clothes back over her bare body.

“I just can't believe you, Simon,” she spat. Simon remained silent as he watched her grab her purse and stomp out of his dorm without another word. The door slammed with a loud thud as he remained clutching the blanket with one hand and cradling his cheek with the other. The welt stung, sending small ripples of pain through his face.

Simon grumbled as he rubbed the sore spot a few more times before planting his feet on the floor. He pulled out his phone and earbuds. Rugby practice was starting soon, and he couldn’t waste his time ruminating about a short fling.

Music blasted through his ears as he grabbed his duffel bag and walked towards the field. It was a blazing summer day, the sun beating down against his rugged body. He passed by a group of female students. They giggled and whispered as he nodded and waved towards them.

Getting a woman wasn't easy for Simon. Actually keeping them was the difficult part. All of the players eyed Simon as he walked into the locker rooms.

“What happened to you?” a foreign exchange student, nicknamed "König", gawked as Simon strode up to his locker. Simon patted his cheek, the welt still slightly swollen.

“Just a mishap,” he replied in a flat tone as he changed into his Jersey and shorts. Johnny, his roommate and teammate, peeked from beside the lockers.

“You sure it wasn’t a parting gift from that hen you’ve been seein?” he asked with a raised brow. Simon tensed at his words and harshly pulled out his boots. König and Johnny exchanged a knowing glance.

Simon sighed as he slipped his large footwear on. He tied his boots just as he heard the faint sound of a whistle blowing.

“C’mon. Practice is starting soon,” König said. Johnny followed after him, then Simon.

Despite him having incredible sex just before he came to practice, there was a tiny seed growing in his chest. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it felt cold and made his heart feel like it was filling with lead. Simon tilted his head side to side as if shaking his own thoughts out. He scanned the field and the sharp sting in his chest quickly faded when he saw a young woman sitting in the stands.

Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun, your clothes not too revealing but not too modest. You nibbled on the end of your pen as you stared down at your notebook, a textbook resting on your lap. You glanced up and locked eyes with him. Simon’s chest exploded with warmth, his pupils dilatating ever so slightly. He couldn’t help but swallow when he saw your lips part slightly.

The sound of a whistle screeched and broke his attention.

“Riley! Let’s focus!” Coach Price’s voice boomed. Simon huffed as he ripped his gaze from you and jogged towards the players doing warm ups. Everyone agreed that the new coach was something of a hard ass. Rumors have spread that he used to be a black op in the SAS. Simon wasn’t really one for gossip, so he shrugged it off.

Simon would peek over at you every so often, your beauty only making him sink further into desire. Johnny noticed this fairly quickly. He nudged Simon’s shoulder as they were doing a few warm-ups.

“I wouldn’t go after her if I were you,” Johnny said, his eyes full of worry. Simon laughed.

“What? She your bird or somethin'?” he asked. Before Johnny could reply, Coach Price blew the whistle again.

“Everybody line up in formation!” he bellowed. Simon bit the inside of his cheek as he stole another glance at you. You were still nose-deep in your homework. You yawned and stretched your arms above your head.

Another whistle blow.

“Riley!” Price barked. You looked up again, this time your lips forming into a small smile as he met your gaze. Simon felt even more determined when he played now, checking over his shoulder every now and then. Of course, this came with consequences, including several remarks from Price.

"In case you forgot your position: you're the fullback, Riley! Watch for your team!" the coach yelled at the top of his lungs. Simon saw you giggling before turning back to your book.

By the end of the training, he was worn out and covered in sweat, his tattooed arms flexing as he stretched himself on the bench.

“Hit your head too many times?” Johnny teased. Simon huffed as his eyes wandered back up to the stands where you still remained. Your hair was slightly frizzy from the late summer heat. You tucked a strand behind your ear before taking a drink of water. Judging from the expression you made, it was empty. You rose from your seat and started walking to the nearest water fountain. Simon took a huge swig of water before wiping his mouth.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Johnny’s mouth opened to call for him but he was already making his way up the metal steps. Simon actually felt his heart race as he approached you. You were filling up your water bottle as he pressed his hand against the wall.

“Scuse me,” he said. You turned around and blinked. A forced smile stretched across your face as he strolled up to you, his jersey clinging to his rugged, sweaty skin. Your beauty almost made him forget just why he came up there.

“Just wanted to introduce myself. The name’s Simon,” he said as he held his hand out. Your smile fell as you shook it, your palms soft compared to his.

“I thought it was Riley,” you quipped. He laughed.

"That's my last name. Just call me Simon," he grinned. You gave him a short nod before making your way back to the stands. Simon scrambled towards you.

“I haven’t seen you around practice before,” he commented as you two walked. You nodded, your face tight.

“I’ll probably just be around for this week,” you said with a slight edge to your voice. Simon tilted his head. There seemed to be something familiar about you. Maybe you were one of his classmates?

“Yeah? Why’s that?” he asked. Your lips pursed as you squeezed your bottle.

“My car’s the shop,” you explained, your nostrils flaring. Simon grunted, his eyes looking you up and down as both of you turned the corner.

“Sorry if this is sudden, but has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your smile is?” he drawled, his voice dropping a few octaves. You blinked and sighed.

“Listen, you seem like a somewhat decent guy, but I need to get back to my homework,” you stated matter-of-factly. Simon nearly choked on his spit. This is the first time in what felt like an eternity that a girl’s turned him down. His heart began to race as he watched you slip away.

“Bye,” you quickly said with a wave as you returned to your seat. Simon’s jaw clicked as he felt a bitter taste envelope his tongue. Eventually, he stopped staring at you and made his way back down to the field. Johnny’s face looked somewhat pale as he strode up towards him.

“What?” Simon snapped. Johnny pointed towards the stands. Simon’s eyes followed him. His throat grew tight as he saw you talking to Coach Price. The man’s arms were crossed as he nodded along to your words. It felt like lightning struck through him when Price’s head snapped towards him, his eyes narrowing and face turning bright red.

“Good luck, mate,” Johnny said as he roughly patted his shoulder. Simon scoffed as his roommate stepped back while Price approached them. Everyone watched, the entire field seeming to freeze. The coach came uncomfortably close to Simon as he snarled in a strained voice:

“My office. Now”.

+++

The next several minutes were filled with Price casting death glares at Simon as he ranted at him.

“Listen here, boy. I may be new, but I already know of your reputation here on campus," he began. Simon's face remained as neutral as possible as spit flew out of the man's mouth. "I’m not about to let my daughter become another one of your brazen hussies,” he growled as he shook his index finger at him. Simon felt his chest turn to stone as he watched the coach scowl.

“You are not to touch, speak, or even look at (Y/N),” Price ordered. Simon nodded quickly, his chest tightening as the man stared him down. The coach leaned forward, his palms pressed to the cold wood of the desk as he scowled.

“Mark my words, Riley. If I find out you’ve stuck your knob inside my daughter, I’ll cut it off and feed it to my fucking dogs,” he roared. Simon swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded.

“Same goes for the rest of you!” Price shouted as his head snapped towards his door. Whispers followed by several shuffling feet were heard outside the door. Simon’s blood ran cold as his shoulders tightened.

“Yes, sir. I understand,” he muttered. Price’s nostrils flared as he pointed out of his office.

“Good. Now, get out of my sight. And don't get distracted next time...or else,” he spat. Simon nodded before turning on his heel, quickly making his way down the hall. The locker room was silent when he stepped inside. Several eyes were locked on him as he walked towards the showers. Simon closed his eyes and sighed as the cold water rushed down his sweaty, rippling back. Thankfully, the locker room was nearly empty by the time he stepped out.

Johnny stood scrolling through his phone before looking up. He offered Simon a careful smile as they walked out of the building.

“Want to get some takeaway?” he asked. Simon remained silent, simply looking forwards as the world blurred around him.

Not only did you reject him, but the man who was your father happened to be one of the most terrifying people he’d ever met. A lump formed in his throat as he glanced down at his crotch, then back up at the sidewalk.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was the coach’s daughter?” Simon grumbled. Johnny shrugged.

“I tried to, but we had to start practice,” he explained. Simon ran a hand down his face. Frustration built inside him like boiling lava inside a volcano. He whipped out his phone, texting a girl he met a few weeks ago.

“Which one are you texting this time?” Johnny asked bluntly. Simon ignored him, instead sending her a message about a party this weekend. A friend of theirs, Kyle, was in a fraternity who was notorious for throwing massive raging keggers.

“Surprised you actually texted a girl back this time, Ghost,” Johnny quipped as he nudged his shoulder. Simon rolled his eyes.

“When the hell are you all goin' to drop that annoyin' nickname?” he grumbled. Johnny chuckled as they stepped through the doors to their dorm building. Simon happened to glance over to see you passing by in a black truck. Your eyes locked again briefly before you looked away. Price was in the driver’s seat, his eyes set on the road as he pulled away.

“Come on. I think a couple of pints is in order for the both of us,” Johnny said. Simon raised a brow.

“You no longer with Gabby?” he asked. Johnny’s bright smile seemed to falter.

“I dinnae ken. She said she ‘needs a break’,” the Scotsman said as he flexed his fingers with air quotes. Simon grunted.

“Alright-but you’re buyin’,” he stated. He didn't even try to hide his wry grin as Johnny scoffed and rambled at him.

+++

The next few practice's were brutal, to say the least. Every time he looked at you, Price demanded everyone to do one-hundred push ups. Simon was beginning to believe the rumor's about the coach's past.

“For fuck’s sake, man-just keep your eyes off of her!" one of the players gaped after a tiring practice. Simon ignored him as he changed into a fresh pair of clothes. His shorts hugged his muscular thighs nicely while his tank too stretched over his rugged upper body. Johnny came up beside him.

“You still goin’ to Kyle’s party tonight?” he asked. Simon nodded.

“Yeah, Tracy ditched me at the last second though,” he shrugged. Johnny patted his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s a lovely lass who’ll gladly get into your pants…that is, if she hasn't already,” Johnny smirked. Simon punched his arm, causing the Scotsman to chuckle.

“What about you, big guy? You wanna come?” he asked as he turned towards König. Simon had absolutely no idea how this guy was human. He had to duck every time he walked through the door for crying out loud. König sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nein, it’s not really my scene,” he shrugged.

“Fair enough-just know the invitation is always open,” Johnny grinned. König nodded before slipping towards the showers. A 'thunk' sound reverberated across the room as König swore in German and rubbed his head.

Simon closed his locker door before padding out of the building. His eyes lit up when he saw you climbing into a black truck. He frowned when Coach Price’s cold, heavy gaze trailed over towards him. He glared at him before climbing into his vehicle and driving away. Simon sighed before making his way back to the dorm.

+++

Loud music thumped against the walls. Smoke hung in the air as several students bumped and grinded against each other. The lighting was dim inside the frat house as chaos erupted at every waking second. Simon sipped at his beer while Kyle rambled on and on about how obnoxious some of the new frat members were.

"And Graves-Christ, don't even get me started. He never stops talking about his precious Porsche back in the States. His old man got it for him as a present for his sixteenth birthday. Can you fuckin" believe that?!" he scoffed as he waved his hands wildly. The song changed during the one-sided conversation and that’s when Simon felt it: the cold, dark pit opening up inside his chest.

The feeling made his beer grow stale, music dull and the air thick and heavy. He brushed past Kyle as he made his way towards the back deck, ignoring his several questions. The people in the room seemed to slow down as he barraged his way through. He barely caught a glimpse of König.

"Bastard actually showed up," Simon thought. A blonde girl was sitting next to the Austrian, batting her lashes as she whispered something into his ear. His cheeks turned a bright red as he pulled his hoodie over his head.

Simon swung the door open and slammed it closed. He took a deep breath of the chilled night air. Crickets chirped as the muffled music inside swelled into a crescendo.

“Needed a break too, huh?” a familiar voice asked. Simon’s eyes flew open and landed on you. You were wearing ripped jeans and a black crop top, your body decorated with minimal amounts of jewelry. Even in the dim lighting, you looked ethereal.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. You turned your body towards him, the light from inside highlighting your features.

“Got any smokes?” you asked. Simon raised a brow and nodded.

“Yeah, but I forgot my lighter,” he said as he rummaged through his pocket. You snatched something from your jeans, pulling out a small, silver box. Simon grinned as he walked over, offering you a cig. You flicked the lighter on before taking it from his fingers. You turned as you sucked in a long drag, puffing out the smoke into the night. Your eyes lingered on his shocked face.

“What? I’m the daughter of a coach, not a pastor,” you retorted before taking another drag. The corners of Simon’s eyes crinkled as he remained near you. He slid his hands together as both of you stood silently, watching the water of the lake catching the light of the full moon.

“I’m sorry if I was being too forward the first time we met,” he sighed. You gave him an unreadable look before exhaling out a long trail of smoke.

“You’re fine,” you said. Simon turned towards you.

“No, really. I should've just-” he said as his eyes wandered around. You nudged his shoulder.

“I said it’s fine, Riley,” you huffed. His lips curled up as you both went back to staring at the lake.

“Did my dad tell you that he’d cut off your dick?” you asked bluntly. Simon nearly choked on his spit. You cocked a brow, already getting your answer just from his pale face. You shook your head and sighed. “Sorry, he can get a little intense,” a small pink blush made its way across your face. Simon nodded.

“A little?” he muttered and rolled his eyes. You snorted, a genuine, small grin etching across your face. You were soon laughing, your bubbly chuckles falling across the landscape and drowning out the music. Simon found himself chuckling along with you, his face hurting from how much he was smiling.

Despite all the women he's been with, this had to be the first where he felt something genuine stir inside his chest. It wasn’t the drunk feelings he got whenever he’d lie in the afterglow-it felt deeper, pouring and coursing through his entire body.

And he realized something as the smoke from your lips wafted towards him: he wanted to feel that genuine warmth every second of his waking life.

You put out the cigarette on the deck before wiping an amused tear from your eye.

“Thanks, Riley. I really needed that,” you smiled. Simon beamed.

“No problem. Just come to me if you need a laugh. I've gotta funny face, anyway,” he commented. You snorted and lightly punched his arm.

"Not that funny looking," you smirked. Simon pretended to be offended before both of you laughed again. His face grew hot as you looked up at him. Your face looked so serene as you parted your lips. Simon tilted his head when the words came out as a garbled mess.

“You feelin’ alright, kid?” he asked with knitted brows. Your eyelids began to droop as you nodded.

“Just…dizzy…” you slurred as you wobbled around. Simon’s eyes widened as your legs suddenly crumpled beneath you. He was quick to snatch you in his burly arms.

"(Y/N)?" he asked. You rolled your head around, your eyes glazed over as you continued to slur. His eyes flicked over to a red solo cup resting on the ledge of the deck. Heat rose inside his chest as he gritted his teeth. He laid your head down on the deck, keeping his hand beneath it.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” he asked, his heart sinking into his stomach. You gurgled weakly, eyes hazy and unfocused. “Fuck,” he hissed as he frantically looked around. A man seemed to be watching both of you from inside. He quickly ducked behind a group of women. Simon looked back down at you. His thumb stroked a tear that rolled down your cheek.

"Simon...'m scared," you sobbed quietly as your pupils became constricted.

"I know, hun. Just let me-" he remembered König sitting on the couch right next to the door. He looked back down at you.

“I’m going to get help. I’ll be at the door and I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?” he mumbled. You parted your lips, your head lolling to the side. Simon sprinted to his feet and wrenched the door open. König sputtered as Simon grabbed him from his chair, the woman shooting daggers at him. He led the giant man outside. König gasped when he saw your unconscious body.

“What happened?” he asked. Simon gripped his shoulders.

“I think (Y/N)‘s drink has been spiked,” he seethed. König’s face lost its color as you slurred out incoherently. Simon slid his car keys into König’s hand. “I need you to take her to the ER for me,” he said as he gripped his shoulders.

“What are you going to do?” König asked as he began to gently pick you up. Simon tightened his fist as he strode back into the crowd.

“I need to take care of something real quick,” he hissed. His head throbbed as he stomped and shoved his way through several people. Simon narrowed his eyes when he saw the familiar man rushing towards the side door. He gritted his teeth as he ran towards him. The man yelped as Simon landed a punch square across his cheek. Several women gasped and scattered as Simon pulled the man to his feet.

“Tell me what you put in (Y/N)‘s drink,” Simon growled as he shook the man’s collar. The dark-haired man spat in his face, blood and spit spraying across it.

“What drink, you arsehole?” he snarled back, though a small, knowing grin crept across his face.

“If you’re going to fight, then take it outside,” a frat member yelled towards him. Simon curled his fists in the man’s polo shirt.

“Gladly,” he said while tilting his head.

He dragged the man through the side door, punching him again across his other cheek. He watched in satisfaction as he fell to the ground, groaning while he cradled his face in his hands. Simon drove his large fist into the man’s chest, causing him to wheeze. He came down onto one knee, his voice sharp and acidic.

“Tell me what you put in her drink,” he said as he grabbed the man by his shaggy hair. The man winced. Simon gripped at it even harder. "I won't ask again," he warned. The man spat out another string of spit and blood.

"Fentanyl," he muttered. Simon's fists shook as he readied another blow.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Kyle gasped. Simon leaned his head towards him. Kyle stood with his mouth agape. Several people crowded and watched from behind. Simon glanced back down at the man. His face was covered in blood, his cheeks already swelling with bruises. The polo he grabbed him by was similar to the one Kyle wore.

“Ky-you gotta get this twat off of me! He's fuckin' delusional!” the man sputtered. Simon released his grip on the man. He fell back to the ground with a yelp. Kyle ran up to him.

“You alright, VP?” he asked. Simon frowned as he watched the man get picked up.

“I’ll be fine,” he glared at Simon. His eyes trailed down to see a piece of a plastic bag poking out of his back pocket.

“Wait,” Simon called as Kyle was escorting the man back into the house. Kyle scowled at him.

“I’m not waiting for anything, Riley. You nearly beat the shit out of our VP,” he spat. Simon stepped forward, causing the man to flinch.

“Check his back pocket, but don't touch anything if you find it” he ordered. Kyle twisted his lips while the Vice President released a laugh.

“Don't listen to this git, Garrick. He-“ Kyle's nostrils flared as he spun the man around and grabbed at his pocket. His eyes bulged when a bag filled with white, dusty powder slipped out. The Vice President’s face fell.

“That’s-That’s just for...personal use," he explained, his voice weak and shaky. Kyle’s brows furrowed as he threw the Vice President onto the lawn, his beaten and bruised body landing on top of the bag. The man hissed as he rose to his hands and knees.

Simon pulled out his phone and quickly texted König what you had consumed. Just as Simon put away his phone, the VP stood on his feet and swung his fist into his ribs. Simon groaned as he clutched his side, a dull ache reverberating across his skin.

“He’s getting away!” one of the women inside screamed. Simon grabbed his ribs, trying his best to run towards him. The Vice President was surprisingly quick, though. He looked back and smirked at Simon before suddenly running into a rough wall. He huffed as he fell back to the ground. Johnny stood with his hands on his hips, cocking a brow. The Vice President's bottom lips quivered.

"Please, you have to help me! These men are trying to frame me!" he begged as he clawed at Johnny's ankles. Johnny's shoulders bounced as he released a hearty laugh.

"Yeah? Then why are you running away?" he asked. The man's face grew pale as he was surrounded by the two men. Simon cracked his knuckles while Johnny leaned down. "Ever been to a rugby match?" Johnny grinned. The man whimpered.

+++

You blinked slowly, your eyes still somewhat unfocused. Price’s eyes became misty as he rose from his chair.

“Dad?” you asked with a hoarse voice.

“Pumpkin, thank God you’re alright,” the coach choked as he instantly rushed to your side. Your eyes were wide as he hugged you tightly.

“Dad, I-I’m so sorry. I tried to be careful like you taught me, but-“

“Hush, now. I’m so happy you’re safe,” he sniffed. Your eyelids fell as you silently cried, your father holding and rocking you gently. Simon watched from the doorway, his arms crossed.

After they taught the VP a lesson, they called the police. They promptly took the man into custody (though not without questioning his broken nose and several bruises). Simon had to ask to borrow Kyle’s car once they took the man away. He reluctantly agreed and yelled at Simon as he sped out of the parking lot. Relief washed over him when when the nurse said you'd be okay. König remained until he knew you were alright, trading Simon's keys for Kyle's. It was around one in the morning when Price showed up-his hair messy and face completely pale.

“Where’s my little girl?” he asked with a strained voice, his eyes weary and solemn. The men directed him to the front desk and a woman escorted all of them back.

Simon’s attention was snapped back to the present when someone clears their throat behind him. He turned. A woman wearing a police uniform cocked a brow at him.

“I’m detective Jones. Is this where Y/N is staying?” She asked. Simon nodded and let the man through. “Thanks,” Jones said in passing. Price pulled back, his hands squeezing your shoulders as the detective stepped into the room.

“Good afternoon, I’m detective Natalie Jones,” she said as she held out her hand. Price’s face grew stern as he shook Jone’s hand.

“John Price,” he said. Jones nodded.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask (Y/N) a few questions,” she said as she flipped open a dark notebook. Price squeezed your hand as his face hardened even more. “I understand your concerns of leaving her alone, sir, but I promise it won’t take more than fifteen minutes,” she explained. Price looked over at you.

“It’s okay, Dad,” you assured him weakly. He squeezed your hand again and sighed.

"I'll be right out in the hall if you need me," he said. You gave him a tired smile as he rose from his seat. Price nodded at the officer before walking into the hall.

Simon noticed the bags under his eyes. Jone's shut the door behind her as Price stood mere feet away from the young player. The sounds of doctors and patients, as well as various beeps, echoed in the stark hallways. The coach cleared his throat.

“Thank you for...helping (Y/N),” he said. Simon rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sure,” he replied. The two men shuffled awkwardly.

"Listen, I'm sorry I was kind of hard on you before," Price huffed. Simon raised a brow.

"Kind of?" he thought. Price bit the inside of his cheek as he placed his hands on his hips.

"It's just...(Y/N)'s all I have left. She's still my little girl to me, and I don't know if I'm ready to accept that she's become a woman," he sighed. Simon remained silent. Price leaned on the wall, staring into the closed door. "There's just so much out there that could hurt her, and I won't always be there to protect her," the coach's voice cracked as tears welled in his eyes.

Simon craned his neck and looked down at his feet. He slowly moved forward and hesitantly placed a hand on Price's shoulder. The coach flinched at the sudden contact, his eyes slightly red as he glanced over.

"Someone will always be there to protect her. She knows the entire bloody rugby team for Christ's sake," Simon said. Price's lips cracked into a miniscule smile.

"Right," the man sighed. Simon slid his hand from Price's tense shoulder. The door creaked open, followed by detective Jone's stepping out. Despite her composure, Simon could see the mist in her eyes.

"Mr. Riley, if it's alright I'd like to ask you a few questions as well," she said. Simon nodded.

"Alright," he said. She motioned for him to follow her. As he passed by your room, both of you exchanged glances. You gave him a bright, warm smile. He grinned back. Simon is a fullback-it's his job, after all.

Someone will always be there to protect her.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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