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thewickedjazzy · 25 days ago

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Level 3: Baby Fever [Breeding] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩osamu dazai x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis: you're thrilled to kick off the new kinky card game with your boyfriend, but you definitely didn't expect it to culminate in your first time going raw.

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: nsfw, mdni, 18+ content, smut with plot, breeding kink, mating press, bdsm elements, breathplay, alcohol consumption, profanity, kink and fetish themes, sexual challenges, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, cum mentioned...etc.

ᡣ𐭩Word count: 2.3k

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

“Is everything set?” you ask, eyes locking onto your boyfriend’s figure as he places the last decently sized shot glass on the table looking you up with a mischievous smirk, sweet excitement sparkling in his brown irises.

“all set, my love.” he chuckles, enthusiasm radiating from him warm as the sunshine of spring as he rests both hands on the table in front of you, his sleeves rolled up and shirt fully unbuttoned.

you take a deep breath, feeling the exhilaration twisting in your stomach. tonight is the night you’ve been waiting for—a card game you’d eagerly anticipated all week: freak or drink. while the game is pretty straightforward, the risks and rewards are irresistibly enticing. each card drawn could push your boundaries, could strip you bare—figuratively and literally—just thought of it makes your thighs press together instinctively.

“okay, let’s start!” your voice betraying the nervous excitement that courses through your veins. you bite your lip as your hand hovers over the deck before pulling the top card from the pile, feeling the cool edges glide across your fingertips as you flip it over, eyes going wide at the challenge: “ sensual stuffing.”

you snort softly, caught between disbelief and laughter. “no way,” you scoff, shaking your head with a smile.

“c'mon, baby... are you shy?” dazai teases, leaning in closer against the table, eyes roving over your form, stripping you down before he even touches you.

you roll your eyes as the familiar rush of high heavens of pleasure pulse through you. “not shy, just... strategic,” you purr, smirking as your hands slide beneath the hem of your dress. the lace of your panties catches on your fingertips as you slowly drag them down, stepping out of them and holding them up, feeling the cool air hit the places where your warmth had been trapped.

with a sly grin, you twirl the delicate lace between your fingers, holding it up like a prize. “open up, pretty boy.”

dazai’s smirk never fades, his lips parting ever so slightly as his eyes flicker between your face and the panties dangling between your fingers. it feels exhilarating to push boundaries, especially with that brown haired-brat, who always keeps you on your toes.

you step closer, heat rushing to your face spreading a pink tint under the barrier of your skin as you bring the lace closer to his mouth. slowly, you press the delicate fabric past his lips, watching him hum softly, his tongue grazing the lace before biting down just enough to hold it in place, never breaking eye contact.

his smirk falters for a moment as he tastes your slick drenched panties, before he groans pulling the lace out of his mouth.

“two things that i love,” he murmurs, “you and how easily you get wet.” his tongue darts out, flicking over his lips, tasting the ghost of you still lingering there as he lazily draws the next card from the deck. it's obvious that his focus isn’t on the game but rather on you, completely.

he holds the card between his fingers for a moment, his smirk widening devilishly as he reads it aloud. “fuck yes!! 'body shot.'”

before you can respond, dazai’s grip tightens around your waist, hoisting you up effortlessly. the world spins for a second, your breath catching in your throat as he slams you down onto the couch, knocking the air from your lungs. you barely have time to gasp his name before his hands are on you again, fingers slipping under the fabric, peeling the dress from your body as if it were nothing more than a flimsy barrier in his way.

he doesn’t stop, brown irises completely dilated as he grabs the shot glass filled with your favourite amber liquid before tipping it ever so slowly over your chest. the cold alcohol spills onto your bare breasts and the sudden cold sensation makes you arch into him feeling a shiver ripples down your spine as the liquor trickles over your nipples, leaving a glistening trail.

“fuck...’samu,” you whimper, thighs instinctively clenching as he watches the liquid pool at the curve of your breast.

without hesitation, his lips are on your naked bud, tongue flicking out to lap up the trail of alcohol all over your aerola, relishing the feeling of his mouth hot against your chilled skin as he slurps up every drop with a fervent hunger, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive nipples, taking his time, to admire the way you writhe beneath him. each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, juices already starting to slick your thighs.

“you're a moaning mess when we're just getting started?” he pulls away with a low chuckle, stretching his arm to draw a card from the nearby table.

you’re barely recovering from the high of his touch, breath coming in short, needy gasps, “ugh—show meee,” you whine, making a grab for it.

“holy fuck—” the burnet curses under his breath, pausing for a moment.

“whattt?” you pout, leaning closer to catch the words on the card. 'breeding'. oh no! you’ve always been so careful—always on your pills, always using protection. you never let yourself slip, never let caution fall away. but this time? you can’t help it. the temptation eats you alive, a desperate, yearning desire to feel every inch of him, raw and reckless. what if it’s even better than you imagined? what if it’s a pleasure so intense, it leaves you breathless, trembling, and utterly undone?

the thought rushes through your mind and before you can fully process it, you feel his cold fingers dig into your bare skin again lifting you from the couch. needless to say, the next thing you hear is the bedroom door swinging open. suddenly, you’re being pushed down onto the bed, the soft mattress beneath you bouncing with the force.

“listen baby, we’re not just gonna try for a baby tonight. we’re gonna make one.”

once he says that with a whisper, your cunt clenches around nothing instinctively, you part your lips to utter something— anything.

“aa—’samu?” you manage, breathless, as he climbs onto the bed, hovering low, his hands press the mattress on either side of you.

“you’re gonna take all of me tonight, hmm?... spread your gorgeous legs baby—uh, fuck yes, just like that.” his large palms push apart the plushy gates of thighs and spread you wide by your perky ass cheeks, giving him a clearer view of your flushed folds.

no amount of imagination could prepare dazai for how much you're leaking right now. juices soaking your pillowy folds, and he can not move his eyes away from you. it's like he's been craving this very moment a long time ago.

“ahh... i've always dreamed of this moment, filling you up with my seed, ngh—!” you never expected to crave his thick, hot cum to fill you this much, but with the way he hangs above you now? mop of brown hair tickling the tip of your nose while his gaze locks on your spread-open thighs and puffy pussy—so ready to welcome his angry flushed cock, his pants hang low, barely clinging to his hips, just under the heavy weight of his balls.

“’s-samu—” you gasp, barely able to breathe his name. oh god, he's losing it, going absolutely wild just hearing his name drip so sweetly from your glossy lips. you feel it before you see it—his thick, swollen tip pressing against your slick entrance, throbbing and red as it starts to push inside your tight, resisting cunt.

“gonna wreck that pretty little pussy of yours,” he growls, head dropping forward to rest on your soft alcohol stained breasts “stretch it wide, make you my slut.”

“ffffuck- this feels better than i imagined—” he exhales sharply, trying his best to resist the urge not to slam his entire lengthy cock deep inside you.

you thrash under his touch, the languid, torturous rhythm making your hips buck toward him, seeking any sort of friction. “nngh—samu-please... more,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed, head spinning from the combination of enthusiasm, desire, and his tip teasing your entrance.

he cannot help but hug you to his chest, feeling your heartbeats ripple through your ribcage and mingle with his own, he pushes several more inches through your sopping folds, your hips buck up involuntarily circling them over his cock, listening out for the lewd noises that sounds from both your sexes rubbing against one another.

drops of thick precum oozing from his cock finding solace between your gooey walls, the sensation of his bare lengthy cock slipping slowly inside you is ethereal.

finally he slams his entire cock through your fluttering cunt with a throaty groan, jaw completely slack as he gasps next to your ear shoving both of the legs to your chest from beneath your knees, completely folding you in half and sinking his cock deeper and deeper inside you. the full stretch makes your cunt clench and thighs spasm before trembling against his palms.

and oh god, the feeling of dopamine surging through you as technicolor bursts of pleasure dance behind your eyelids. you know your boyfriend's body all too well—his cock is more long than thick, with most of the heft in his swollen, heavy balls, slapping against your doughy ass with each thust. but this time? it’s different—this time, there’s no barrier between you. it’s raw. his bare cock filling you up to the brim in ways you’ve never felt before, and you can feel almost evey ridge, every vein of it pulsing between your tight, slick walls, making your nerve-endings buzz with pleasure.

“you feel that baby? ngh— you want me to make—oh shit—your pretty pussy leak with my cum hmm? put a baby in you?” he says in a low bristling tone making you swallow his cock even more with his words.

the constant hitting of his tip against your spongy spot is too much, but you can't push him from this position, even when your pretty nails are scaping his back, nothing would push him away.

“our baby's gonna have those pretty eyes of yours? and those sweet, soft lips?” he purrs gently, as if he isn't rearranging your guts and bottoming out inside you with a harsh, resounding slap of skin on skin, his heavy balls smacking against the curve of your ass as he drives himself deep to the hilt almost breaking the bed as it creaks beneath you from the force of his thrusts.

“’sammuuu ahh— t’much mngh fuck—you're insane.” you cry out frantically, voice hoarse, body jiggling like jelly with each harsh thrust.

“stay with me, babe… mmff— it’s only been thirty minutes..i know you can handle more.” he murmurs, his forehead pressed against yours, lips forming a soft ‘o’ shape. “ goddammit mngh—you ready to be a mama?” with that, he begins a fast, deep rhythm inside you, his slender hips delivering the perfect stroke.

each thrust has his tip brushing delightfully against your cervix, making your cunt spasm wildly as each thrust sending your essence to splatter against his abs, slick and messy.

“fuck- s’tight and perfect,” dazai growls deeply, pressing his weight against you as he slips his tongue into your mouth, capturing your swollen pink lips and swallowing your moans and whimpers with your knees positioned on either side of your chest.

dazai osamu, the devil that he is, the man who has cradled your heart in his hands, is giving you the best night of your life—guiding you to meet whatever divine force dwells above the clouds as he fills your gooey hole so perfectly.

“mmph shiit—’s-amu..’m clos-e” you cry as he keeps hitting into you roughly, his pelvis grinding against your swollen clit as he grunts ferally into your mouth.

“yeah? gonna let me cum so hard inside you, baby?” he drawls against the sensitive skin where your jaw meets your neck, before gripping your ankles and pressing them back near your ears, his cock sinking into the endless black hole between your thighs, as if he's being consumed by the gravitational force of your cunt.

“gonna make you pregnant... fuh-k—your pussy feels so good mmph holy fuck—i love you hahh.. i fuckin’ love you,” he groans as his vision starts to blur with white-hot pleasure, his balls tightening almost painfully and hips stuttering as he pushes deeper into you, the sloppy heat of your tight walls squeezing every last drop from him. the moment he feels your walls spasm around his twitching cock signalling that you're cumming a throaty groan leaves his chest, spilling hot thick globs of cum inside you—and you couldn't help but unconsciously count the amout of pumps he's feeding your delicious cunt with. seven.. eight.. nine.. ten??—holy fuck! twelve? his cock pulsing with every shot as he kept going, pushing more and more of his release into you till tears cloud your vision.

his breath starts to subside, body finally beginning to relax as the intoxicating pleasure starts to fade into a hazy afterglow. he lets out a long, shaky sigh, pulling out leisurely, your soft whimper catching his ear as his softened cock slips free from your stuffed entrance with a slick 'plop' sound.

his eyes fix on the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of your now-so-wide cunt, a trail of white drops of ambrosia running down toward the bedsheets before he scoops some of it up with two fingers, pushing it back inside you again.

you instinctively grip his wrist tightly still breathing heavily, however you don’t stop him, in fact, your body shudders at the sensation as he gently plunges his fingers deeper, making sure every last drop stays inside as he watches, fascinated with how your trembling body accepts it all again.

he lets out a breathless chuckle as he glances at the nightstand, reaching for his phone, he then opens the camera app, focusing on you before snapping a picture of your dripping pussy.

“ugh ’samu, what are you doin’?!” you groan, trying to catch your breath.

“i'll save this for when our kid's old enough and say, 'this is how we made you.'”

“please don’t tell me you’re starting a scrapbook!” you breathe out, rolling your eyes, still trying to steady your racing heart.

“and ruin the surprise for our kid? tsk..never! i’ll keep the best bits for a bedtime story instead.” the burnet chuckles lowly, his hands tenderly massaging your trembling legs, fingers digging into the soft skin.

“that’s one way to guarantee therapy bills in the future.”

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr

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latenightdaydreams · 4 months ago

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König x Stalker!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2, Part 3, Part 3.2

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, stalking, masturbation, voyeurism

📸

You watch from a distance as König, your neighbor, goes for his early morning jog. It’s become a part of your routine to follow him. A camera in your hands taking pictures, focused in on his muscular arms and legs; eyes lingering on the way his cock bounces underneath the fabric of his sweatpants. What you wouldn’t do to see his cock, have his sweaty balls fill your mouth?

Quickly, you snap out of it when a person walks by. You have to shift focus and pretend that you’re taking photos of geese in the pond nearby. You watch as König gets away from you. A wave of annoyance rushes through you. You’re missing precious time you could have spent with König.

In frustration, you turn and walk to the entrance of the park, walking slowly so hopefully you’ll run into König before going back home. As you look through the trees, you try your best to see König, but they’re just too dense to see anything. The gate for the park approaches, and König is nowhere to be found. You leave the park, looking down at the photos you took of him today.

“Hallo! Y/n!” You hear König’s Austrian accent, like music to your ears.

You turn to see König walking towards you. His black shirt is sweaty and clinging to his chiseled, perfect body. His package was basically outlined in his sweats. He’s a gift from the gods to anyone who loves masculine people. You’d let him do the most depraved things to you.

“Hey!” Your voice is cheery as if you aren’t thinking about being his little free use house wife.

“What are you doing out so early?” König’s pale blue eyes drop to the camera in your hands. “Wildlife photography?”

“Uh—yes. I used to do photography in college, so I decided to pick it back up.” Not a complete lie.

“That’s cool.” König puts his massive hands on his broad hips, taking his time to look at you. “Are you walking back home?”

“I am.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

König walks forward and slows his pace so he can walk side by side with you. Inside, you’re freaking out. This will be the first time you spend more than a passing moment with him. The first time you’ll be able to get to know him more than what you’ve been able to dig and find out about him.

Married once, no children, and didn’t last more than eight months. Colonel of Kortac, an only child. His birthday is in the winter months, and he appears to be very content with being alone. Other than one handsome Asian man, you’ve never seen anyone visit him.

Dread fills you as you approach your homes. König, being a gentleman, walks you to your door. You’d want nothing more than to invite him in, but then you’d have to explain all of the photos of him you have in your home. What if he’s into it? Thinks it's attractive to have someone so dedicated? No, that’s crazy.

“Well, Fräulein. This is where I leave you. Have a great rest of your day.” König smiles at you, his eyes tracing over your body as you turn and unlock your door.

“Thank you, König. See you later.” You turn back to wave goodbye awkwardly.

You watch as König walks to him door, making sure to close yours first so he doesn’t realize that you were watching the whole time. Once inside you let out a deep sigh, if only it could have gone farther. As you kick off your shoes, you remember that at least you got some nice photos of him at the park.

In your bedroom, you sit at your desk and upload your photos. You take time to sit and gaze at each one. Trying to commit to memory every bulging vein or scar. His massive hands, how would those fingers feel being shoved into your cunt? Whenever you spend so much time looking at König, you can’t help how absolutely wet you get.

Not being able to resist, you walk to your bedside table and grab your 8-inch dildo that you’ve nicknamed ‘König’. From under your pillow, you pull out your laptop and begin to watch videos you’ve been able to take of König at the gym, in the park, and taking out the trash.

Your pussy already wet, accepts the dildo easily, a whimper leaving your lips from the rush of pleasure. On the screen you focus on König’s cock and balls bouncing when he walks or jogs. The way his light gray sweats always get so wet when he’s at the gym. You’d love to be a part of his workout routine. If he was here just lifting up in the air, thrusting into you as he counts out each rep in complete ecstasy.

König sits at his desk, stroking his cock with a pair of your underwear wrapped around it. Loud huff leaving his lips as the hidden camera picks up the perfect view of you stretching your cunt with that dildo. If only you knew he was so much bigger than that. He’s not sure your poor pussy could handle him, but he’s 100% sure you’d be eager to try.

The audio from the device picking up the sound of your cunt getting creamy, so loud it matches your moans. You call out for König, begging him to make you cum. Soon, Liebling. So soon.

“Fuck—” König moans out, his Adams apple bobbing as he tilts his head back. His cock throbs in his hand as his warm cum covers your panty and himself. “Y/n…fuck.” A softer moan leaves his lips as he relaxes. His eyes still glued to the screen as you lay there half naked.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 3.2

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pleaselmhau · 12 days ago

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Random scenario I’ve been thinking about of single parent reader

Accidental-boyfriend-and-stepdad-Ghost who had fuck all to do in between deployments. He spent his time wasting away. half at the pub near his dingy flat and the other half in said dingy flat. His fingers curl around the cool glass containing his bourbon. He knew he probably looked like a intimidating, sitting on the absolute end of the bar up against the wall with his hood up, but hey, at least he wasn’t wearing his mask in a civilian pub. That surely would raise a few alarm bells, a jacked, 6’4 man in a mask is probably the line drawn where civilians might start to freak. Not many people really bother him here, that’s why he likes it. He always found people watching occasionally interesting, as long as he could sit back and stay uninvolved.

So he’s a little more than surprised when sweet, attractive you pops right up next to him all sugary smiles and batting lashes. It becomes clear quickly with how your hand brushes against his bicep and you keep giving them flirty looks that you were looking for a fling. A one time hookup. It’s been awhile since he’d fucked so even though you aren’t his usual type, he bites. Not his usual type not in that he doesn’t find you attractive, he does, it’s more he thinks you’re out of his league- or rather out of your element. You seem a little too friendly, chatty even. It’s nothing really in particular that you do, he can just tell you’re the type to get attached. Though you did approached first so maybe he’s wrong, he decides.

The hookup is rather run of the mill at first, sloppy make out session from the front door to the bedroom. Both of you bumping into various furniture and walls as you lead him through your small apartment. His foot brushes against some hard object on the floor but he pays it no mind, too wrapped up in how you’re kissing him like he’s the air you need to breathe. You’re so full of life, passion, it nearly flusters him. But he is nothing if not adaptable, so once close enough to the bedroom he can see where you two are heading he just leans down and scoops you right up with one arm around your thighs. Faster, more efficient. It takes a mere nudge of his shoulder and lean before you’re falling back on the bed and he’s following you. His mouth slots over yours again, hot and heavy. Your hands tug at his shirt and he obliges, letting you pull the fabric off. It’s dim in your bedroom, only the moonlight filtering in through the window but he can see your silhouette clearly when he pulls back your last layer of clothing, and fuck is it a pretty sight.

He didn’t mean to spend the night, he really didn’t. But when you were bouncing on his lap, pressing fresh kisses to his throat after two rounds already he knew it was gonna be a long night. He wakes to find you draped all over him, wrapped up in the sheets like you’re trying to be some renaissance painting. He squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments, blinking away the grogginess of just waking up. Never being one to just lounge around in bed he detangles your limbs from around him and slips out. Bending down he retrieves his clothes, tugging his pants and shirt. When he has all his things he risks a glance back, hoping you’re not awake, he’s never really been good at the whole morning after shit, always preferring to leave during the night. Though for some reason the way you were all over him, the way you clung and kissed at him like he was the only man in the world made him want to revel in it, in you, long enough until he simply was too tired to consider leaving last night. His eyes flicker over you for a moment as if he’s subconsciously trying to commit you to memory, maybe he’ll meet you again sometime at the pub, he wouldn’t mind a repeat, but he’s not staying. Or so he thinks because as soon as he steps out the bedroom he’s met with the sound of two small feet pitter pattering on the floor then big eyes staring up at him.

His brows furrow in confusion, he didn’t notice a kid last night, actually he’s sure there wasn’t any kids in the apartment last night. For a long few moments he just stares down at the kid, not sure what really to do. The little girl, probably no older than ten stares right back up at him. “Can you make pancakes?” She asks, head tilting a little in curiosity. “Uh.. sure.” As she leads him through the living room he realizes what he kicked last night was her toys scattered about the floor.

So now he’s in the kitchen with Lily, as he found out the little girls name was, sitting on the counter. He figured out her aunt watched her last night and brought her home this morning. shes stirring up the batter as he puts butter into a pan. “You’re a friend of mom’s/dad’s?” She asks, stirring maybe a little harder than need be. “Something like that,” he responds, dipping in a random measuring cup then pouring the batter onto the pan. He can hear her still stirring even after. “that means we’re friends now too right?” She asks. He glances over taking in her kiddish hopeful expression and finds himself nodding immediately. “Yeah, we’re friends now too.” He responds, trying to not sound so flat. Truthfully he hasn’t a clue what he’s doing or what he should do. He tries to put himself in your shoes, how weird it’d be to stumble out and see your one-night stand still here cooking breakfast with your daughter. Though at the same time it feels rude too to just dismiss her.

When the pancakes are done he watches her jump off the counter and scamper over to the lower cabinet, pulling out a tray. “Well bring mom/dad some too!” She announces, grabbing at the pancakes with her hands and plopping them on the plate. Once the tray is all made up, a few pancakes stacked and a glass of orange juice she picks it up again. “You helped make it so you have to come too,” then she’s waddling off back toward the same bedroom he woke up in, orange juice splashing out of the glass in her excitement. He wonders if he should just slip out now while Lily is distracted, though he finds himself following, opening the door for her then watching as she pushes the tray right on the bed next to you before jumping on it and pressing her hands into your shoulder to shake you awake. He stands in the doorway awkwardly, watching the scene with a hint of… well he doesn’t really know. Warmth? A breakfast in bed from Ghost and your daughter wasn’t really what you were expecting when you woke up, though you can’t help but to smile as you see the jagged pancakes and half filled orange juice, rest on the tray itself.

The three of you spend the rest of the morning watching movies until it’s late enough that the three of you end up going out for lunch. Then end up making dinner together. And Ghost realizing maybe being off duty wouldn’t be so bad if he had a family to come home too and seems the perfect one was placed right in his hands.

Sorry if this is word vomit it’s very late and I was just swooning over the idea of Ghost with single parent reader

#ghost fanfiction #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost x reader #Ghost is girl dad coded

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solxamber · 8 days ago

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

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

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

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

But then you noticed one of your colleagues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was no time to move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were powerless here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until that afternoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps he was right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The Emperor has summoned you, Grand Duchess."

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

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

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

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

"Your Majesty," you greeted, voice steady.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned to him, incredulous. What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Jamil,” you added dryly.

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

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

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

You raised an eyebrow. “New friends?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<hr>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But when he met you, something shifted inside him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kalim.

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

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

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

And then, it hit you.

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

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

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

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

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

The chaos hit you the moment you opened the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gave them no time to speculate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now? Now, you were free.

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

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

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

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

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #kalim al asim x reader #kalim #kalim x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al-asim #kalim al-asim x reader #twst kalim x reader #twst kalim #fem reader

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morphids · 2 months ago

Text

surrender to the sea, hange zoë

pairing: pirate captain!hange x noble!reader, they/them pronouns used for hange with afab anatomy for both

summary: your father��s shady business deals with a pirate crew lead to collateral damage.

warnings: kidnapping, pwp, explicit sexual content 18+, minors dni (consensual no dubcon here), poc friendly!! hange is a freak, r is SO down bad (same), r is dissatisfied w her life, tension, acc insane executions of gay panic, theres so much exposition before the smut im so sorry bear with me, cunnilingus, fingering, general filthiness — enjoy.

wc: 8.8k, sorry i cant stop yapping.

a.n : listen i tried to stop myself but im weak to my own devil thoughts ok hange worshippers wya

—

Jolting, you sat up in your bed, awakened from slumber by a whipping crash, followed by splintered glass cracking on the hardwood floors of your quarters.

Heart thumping in your ears from the shock, your head instinctively turned towards the shattered window, where the translucent fabric of the curtains were being dragged out with the cool night’s wind. Brows furrowing, your gaze turned to a small, thick object on the floor, illuminated by hints of moonlight, presumably the very cause of the shattering.

You felt an odd feeling, something in the wind warning you that you weren’t alone, you looked over your room, checking for anything out of order. There was nothing out of place, it wasn’t until your second skim over the room that you saw it. A shadow in the darkest corner, the corner where light barely hit it, something to do with the measurements of the architecture, you’d been told. It was there though, undeniably.

“Who are you?” You spoke, shakily, loud against the otherwise still atmosphere, your voice caused a small laugh to come from the unknown shadow.

“That’s your first question?” They spoke, an air of condescension about them.

“I should like to know the identity of the person who has broken into my quarters,” You steeled your voice, trying to portray an image of fearlessness though you were betrayed by the slight tremor in your hands as they clutched onto the bedsheets for any hope of comfort, “May you at least come out from the shadows?” Your fear was definitely betrayed then, as the person stepped forward, the light now casting shadows over their features.

You looked them over, noticing a slight reflection from the glass in their spectacles, a black band covering one quarter of their face, obscuring the right eye. You shook, this was no person from court, maybe not even from this city. Their hardened features, accessories and strange attire placing them from somewhere else entirely. Who is this stranger? What business have they with you?

You find yourself lacking words, having been woken up in such a way was causing a lack of signals to be sent to and from the brain. You were just staring at them, stunned to silence.

“No more questions, huh?”

“I-I just, am confused,” You responded, blinking away tears that formed as you truly grasped the situation you were in, and anything that could happen from here.

“Well, let me explain then,” they shrugged, “You’re coming with me,”

You ogled, “Coming with you, where exactly?”

“As it turns out, daughters are the best way to get a man to pay up,” They chuckled, you didn’t like the implications of this, at all. What did this have to do with your father? Last you had spoken to him, he was furious at you, having been ‘disrespectful’ to one of the countless suitors he had tried arranging for you. You don’t know why he still bothered; every time each one of the suitors had travelled and began any attempts at courting you, you’d reject them.

“I hope you know I’m not going to marry you,” you’d said to one of them, once. You could almost laugh at the gears turning inside their heads as they looked at you as if you were an entity. You’d add in a couple of comments here and there about how their attempts were foolish and in vain, how they coat their dark intentions behind sweet words and promises. You could always see through them. Plus, it was hard to deny the entertainment you’d get from seeing their flustered faces, set on denying all accusations whilst having no actual defence, before huffing and wandering away, not before having words with your father about how they would never marry such a disobedient and insolent woman. Was this your father trying to teach you a lesson? No. That doesn’t feel right, they emphasised paying up. Pay for what? You wondered, had your father been up to something?

“Unfortunately, that makes you collateral,” they paused, looking down as they adjusted the sword that was clinging onto their side, sheathed away, for now. You hadn’t even noticed it before, shuddering as you realised you were completely defenceless. Not a weapon nearby you could use, even if there was, you wouldn’t be able to formulate an attack, regardless. “So, you’d better listen to what I say, and come with me,”

After a beat, with no response, they continued, “I will only ask nicely once, princess,” Sighing as one hand moved to their hip, the other remained on the hilt of their sword, “I’d prefer to do this cordially, if you wanna make it ugly, that’s your choice.”

You blinked, truly at a loss, what the fuck was happening?

“If I go with you, will you tell me what’s going on?” You hated the way that sounded on your tongue, so helpless and lost— a feeling you resented, pride dissipating and crumbling into a tiny speck.

“You have to come with me to find out,”

—

Wood creaked beneath your feet, steps hesitant as the stranger escorted you along the way, your vision totally blinded as they had wrapped a cloth around your eyes. Closing your senses from the rest of the world, all you could do was rely on the sounds of hectic chatter and sea waves, a salty scent around you.

You’d been walking for what felt like miles, but your manor wasn’t too far away from the sea, that stretched out to meet a vast ocean, the only connection between your country and any others. You knew you had been taken to the coast, based on the cries of seagulls and the humming water.

The stranger’s hand was placed on the lower of your back, guiding you, as well as deterring you from any sudden moves. You probably would’ve tried to run away from them, were it not for the clang of metal that was attached to the stranger’s hip.

“Can you at least tell me your name?”

“I think you’re confused on our roles here, sweetheart,” They chuckled, “You don’t get to order me around,” They added a slight push at your back, emphasising the fact that they hold all the cards, whilst you’re just leverage. That was the only part of this you understood.

Sighing, you sneered your lip. You were starting to get pissed off, this stranger completely disrupted your sleep, blindfolded you, is kidnapping you, and you still have no clue as to why. You needed answers.

Your steps came to a halt, when you felt the stranger press you forward to nudge you, you hardened your legs to the ground.

“I’m not continuing,” A pause, “You said you wanted to do this cordially, then tell me your name,”

The stranger sighed, you could almost hear the roll in their eyes, “Look, we’re almost here, okay?”

“Just a few more steps and then I’ll tell you,”

Another nudge at your back, along with a hand meeting yours, “Watch ya step,” They spoke, guiding you up what felt like a ramp, their hand leading you.

A door slammed behind you, the stranger removed their hands and disappeared for a short time before you felt them behind you again, fingers untying the knotted cloth. You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Were they going to kill you?

Your eyes felt slightly raw after being covered so tightly for that long, after you adjusted to the air and light around you, you could take in your surroundings.

The room was slightly dimmed, lighted only by a few oil lamps that burned away in their designated corners, you noticed countless jars on the shelves, preserving different sea creatures and other things you could not recognise. Notes and maps were scattered all over the floor and the desks, piles of books, rustic and handmade, but neat and organised— in its own way. This was the room of someone who studied and researched, you could recognise the frantic illustrations immediately, could feel the passion that lingered in the room.

The stranger moved in front of you, “You just gonna stare?” Your eyes took them in now, fully in vision this time, with no more shadows to hide behind, no more cloth. Their eyes were a soft, dark brown, layers of hair falling over the sides of their face, the tips rimmed with leftover structure from saltwater. Strong jawline and a strong nose, their glasses sat atop the bridge, leaning down slightly, the black band you noticed before still covering their eye. Their attire consisted of a loose black, long-sleeved shirt, a large slit down the chest area, not tied with the laces, allowing you to see the vast black strings with pendants that made up the necklaces wrapped around their neck. You recognised it as a shirt that was traditionally stitched for men, though they certainly looked much better in it than any man could. Loose black pants which emphasised their slender waist, with dark long boots, you could see scuffing on the edges of them from wear, the laces splitting from frequent tying. You let out a sigh, before speaking.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Hange,”

“You’re not from this land,” You say, “You’re a person of the sea,”

Hange hummed, their hand meeting their hip once again.

“Are you going to kill me?”

They let out a laugh, one so inappropriate it almost made you feel stupid, “Sweetheart, if I was going to kill you, d’you think I’d have taken you here?”

“Well, it would’ve been foolish to kill me in my quarters,”

“Leverage needs to be alive to be worthwhile, that’s the whole point,” The way they spoke unnerved you, with their charismatic words and smug voice. Hints of a smirk tugging at their lips.

“Where is ‘here’, anyway?” You didn’t feel stable, the floor rocked up and down slightly, your stomach turning a little as you adjusted to the slight weightlessness of the structure. “We’re on water, I can hear the waves,”

“Don’t worry, we haven’t set sail yet,” They walked over to their desk, moving around some papers, studying its contents, “There’s still business to tend to before we do,” In other words, your father.

You watched them, the way their sword clung and clanked against the hardwood of the desk, their tall stature almost reaching the short ceiling of the cabin, hand splayed on the desk for stability. Hair tied up at the back, with strands spilling out of their tie.

“What’s my purpose here?” Your arms crossed over your stomach, fingers grabbing at the sleeves of loose fabric of your nightdress, feeling vulnerable.

“Your father’s in some trouble,” They chuckled, your heart sank, “He owes me,”

“For what?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, princess.”

“I’m not a princess,” you replied, voice tensing. “Do not address me as such,” Hange’s lips tilted, noticing your misgivings, the tense shoulders and a quip in your upper lip. Distaste. Interesting.

“Your father’s trying to make you one. Queen Consort, as I’ve heard,” Your brows furrowed.

“I do not follow,”

Hange looked up from their pages, gazing right at you. You tried swallowing, throat dry, as they hoisted themselves off the desk and stepped closer.

“He commissioned us, my crew,” Hange spoke, “To track and retrieve the Marleyan jewel.”

“I thought that was legend, an ancient myth of a mystical jewel, passed down from stories.”

“Oh, it’s very real, my lady.” You sighed, at least they were addressing you properly this time.

“And a very dangerous job, at that.” You stared at Hange, looking for any hints that this was just an elaborate joke. None were found, though. They were serious.

“I lost two good men, almost the rest of my crew for that buffoon,” They sighed, a flash of anger in their eyes, rubbing the skin of their jaw, “We retrieved this jewel, and your father tried to rob me blind, I want compensation.”

“Why would he go to those lengths? I do not understand,”

“For you, princess.”

When you did not answer, Hange continued, “Apparently this was his golden opportunity, get the long-desired jewel to gift the King an offering for your hand to the prince. Establish power and riches, and a good suitor for his daughter.”

Your stomach churned, you knew your father was adamant on marrying you off, but this? This was something different, sinister. You knew Hange was telling the truth, the intricacies of the story fell into place too well to be a lie.

Your father was truly a despicable man, hungry for power, and uncaring of those he stepped on to get to his station. Now you were paying for his greed. You think back to your mother, wishing she had outlived him, maybe you would be different, now.

“He cost me two men, our stock and supplies,” Hange pressed, shaking their head, “I can’t have that.”

“So you take me for ransom?”

“If he is not willing to pay up, I’m taking it upon myself to make him. One way or another, he will pay.”

Tears rimmed the ducts of your eyes, you blinked them away, a futile attempt to not show weakness. You know what that meant, either in physical currency or emotional currency, even if he cared little for you, he’d be paying with the loss of a guaranteed seat. To a man like that, that’s punishment enough. You chewed the corner of your lip, nerves eating you up.

“I can’t believe he’d do this,” You could actually, it was more the disbelief of how quickly your situation had changed, “All to marry me off to a disgusting man, be done with me whilst he sits comfortably,”

“You don’t wish to marry a handsome prince? Live a life of wealth and comfort?” Hange looked amused, almost perplexed that this was against your wishes.

“I wish for nothing of the sort,” You sneered, “I crave a life of my own choosing.”

Hange’s features softened, feeling a tug of pity before shutting the feeling down. They almost related to you, almost. Before reiterating to themselves that you were the same as all the other rich nobles. Wealthy and comfortable in your ostentatious manors, with even more ostentatious dresses, whilst the rest of the population suffered, starved and fought for dregs of burnt bread and half pints of spoiled milk. You were no different. No different.

“Careful, my lady, or I’ll sail this ship with you in it,”

You let out a saddened laugh, “Better than what he was planning for me,” You snuck a glance at the circular port window, watching as people were busying themselves with tasks. Filling up crates of fruits, dried fish, barrels of wine and weapons. You mulled for a second, it could be worse, Hange could’ve killed you at the first meet, or even worse, your father successfully got his hands on the jewel, and shipped you off to live a life with a prince who couldn’t even fold his own clothes, or bathe himself. You could visualise your father sitting back, smug and content as he finally got what he always wanted. Abundant wealth and power.

“I do not wish to stay here.” You said, voice more confident than it had been the entire time. Hange looked up at you, surprise taking over their features, “You may demand whatever compensation you require from my father, but…”

“When you set sail, I wish to come with.”

—

Hange had left the captain’s cabin for quite some time, leaving you inside alone as you couldn’t be allowed on the deck yet, not trusted to not do anything stupid yet. They had to check on a few of the crewmates first. You were an interesting character to say the least, Hange could tell you were stubborn, though that’s normal for a high-born, accustomed to making demands and having them realised. It was easy to imagine you not mixing well at court, with your disregard for hierarchy and noble customs. They almost laughed at your conviction when you said you wished to board the ship, of your own accord. The most determined glaze over your features. That was an unexpected oversight, Hange didn’t expect you to go so willingly. A part of them was relieved, content they didn’t need to make it bloodier than it had to be. They have morals, after all. Hurting an innocent woman would provide no respect amongst their crew, not when the real fish was the father.

The crew’s respect and admiration for the captain of the ship was of utmost importance, they need a leader they could trust and admire, it was easy enough to have mutiny on your hands. The ship was passed down to Hange from their father, but the trust and good dynamic of a solid crew, you have to earn yourself. Hange had established that respect from one of their first expeditions, under their confident lead the ordeal had been speedy and efficient. Hange ordered the rewards to be split and distributed as was deemed fair. With multiple feats over harsh waters and perilous expeditions, Hange had consistently proved themselves as a strong leader, they ran a tight ship and their crew meant everything to them.

You sat there in your silly nightdress, ennui eating at your brain as you sat, wishing you could change into something else. Arms wrapped around your legs, looking around as you waited. Deciding to get up, you looked around the room, it was rather nice, for what it was.

You walked up to the shelves, sea oddities neatly placed preserved in jars, with linen labels pinned underneath. You noticed various species, octopi, starfish, eels, crabs and lobsters, and other creatures you had never seen before in your books. There were also drawn illustrations of the anatomy, their organs and bone structure— did Hange do all this?

Your eyes trailed around, landing on the maps and compasses discarded around the tables and floor, with coded markings and notes around certain landmarks, sketches of what you assumed to be distant lands. Looking in awe, wandering at all the things you had never heard of, let alone seen before. Hange must be so knowledgeable, so well-travelled, so.. free. All the things you wished you could be.

Running your fingers over the maps, you jumped back into propriety as the cabin door swung open, Hange’s footsteps filling the room. They looked at you, having noticed your sudden switch in demeanour.

“You inspecting my collection, my lady?” Their back was to you, hanging their outer coat on one of the nail pegs that had been hammered into the wall.

“I’m sorry, I..” You looked down, “I was just curious,”

“It’s alright, I’m quite fond of it myself,” They joined you, standing to your side and looking at where you had been caught touching the delicate papers.

“You did all of this?”

“Is that so surprising?” They chuckled, crossing their arms over their chest. “No,” You paused, “I have just never seen anything quite like this,”

“There are many wonders out in the world, I like to keep note of them,” “For plundering?” You joked, too late to bite it back before it slipped out.

They laughed, “Not everything is to be plundered, sometimes it’s enough to just take it in and observe,”

You looked up at them, there was something you couldn’t quite place about them, yet. They were unlike the pirates you had read about or heard bedtime stories of as a child.

“The world has many corners of beauty, they’re deserving of respect and admiration." Agreeing, you pointed at the display of jars, thinking back to your own research on botany, categorized and illustrated, frowning as you realised it was all left behind. All those hours spent bending your neck under candlelight wasted. “I have a similar collection, pressings of flowers and plants- a little like yours, illustrations and marked under their specifications: edible, toxic, healing,"

Hange looked at you, "Sounds wonderful," unexpecting to have anything in common with someone of your stature, and yet, here they were. "It's all in my quarters, so I doubt I shall see it again," You breathed out, trying to not make it seem like a loss. Hange's gaze turned towards the floor, feeling slightly culpable that they had taken that away from you.

Straightening their back up, they moved back to their satchel, opening it wide and grabbing some folded clothing, jars with some clear liquid, slightly cloudy. Moonshine, you noted. Easier to distil your own rather than paying double for liquor.

“This is for you,” They hummed, holding out their hand waiting for you to walk over and grab them.

“What is it?”

“Provisions,” They shrugged, “And some clothes, we don’t have a lot aboard, but you can have my cast-offs, they were going to be left at the port anyway.”

You looked at them like they had grown seven heads, not expecting sudden kindness from someone who kidnapped you only a few hours ago.

“This where you say ‘thank you, Hange’.” There was the smugness again, an impish look on their features, you rolled your eyes you stepped closer.

Grabbing the items from them, “Thank you, Hange,” You felt meek, under their heavy gaze as you said their name for the first time. It felt strange hearing it from your own mouth, “Any longer in that nightdress and I probably would’ve thrown myself overboard,”

They laughed, “Don’t think you’ll prefer my clothes any more, truthfully, but if you’re going to stay here for now, might as well blend in.”

“Anything is better than this,” You ran your fingers over the fabric.

“Get dressed, it’s mealtime soon,” “You’re letting me eat?”

They looked at you strangely, “I’m not letting a person on my ship starve, I’m not barbaric,” They stated as if it was obvious, it might’ve been, but not to you.

“Thank you,”

Nodding, Hange left you to get changed. Giving you privacy as they shut the door behind them, you waited a few seconds before undressing. You weren’t accustomed to wearing pants, nobility requiring you to wear frilly dresses that cut off your circulation and itched at your neck and wrists, you were rather excited to adorn some comfortable cloth, for once.

As you manoeuvred the loose shirt over your limbs, you noticed a lingering musk of salt and sandalwood? It was rather pleasant, you would normally make your own scented oils and perfumes from boiled flower petals, lavender and honeysuckle, plants native to your country. This scent was uncommon, usually gifted to you at court from wealthy travellers. You lifted the fabric closer to you, inhaling, it truly was divine. Is this what Hange smells like? You couldn't honestly say you hated it.

Slipping your legs through the pants, they were a bit over your standard size, you tucked the wide bottoms into your own boots. You were glad you opted for your hunting boots rather than your daily shoes. Not quite sure that you had put everything on properly, as the fit felt odd. Looking down, everything felt slightly too big and made you feel like a child in adult’s clothing. Frowning you tried tucking in the shirt, though that didn’t really seem to help either.

There was a knock at the cabin door, “Are ya decent?”

The concept made you chuckle, Hange treated you with a lot more respect and propriety than some of the men at court.

“Yes.”

“Never had to knock on my own door before,” Hange joked, letting themselves in, gazing over at you in your fresh clothes. Their smile dropped ever so slightly as their eyes travelled over your new attire. Hange's poet blouse hanging on you, you had, of course, actually tied the laces at the chest, you were a Lady after all. Kinda suits you, they thought, before shrugging it away to hidden corners.

"Does it look alright? It's a little big," "You complaining?" You flustered, not wanting to come across as ungrateful, "Not at all, I-" "I'm messing with you, may I?"

When you nodded, they walked up closer to you, eyes unreadable. You stiffened up, back a little straighter when they brought their hands to the bottom of the blouse. Watching their movements hesitantly, Hange did not make contact with your eyes, they were so close to you. Catching that hint of sandalwood again, almost intoxicating as you honed your vision onto their hands. Looking for anything else to concentrate on, it didn’t help much as Hange focused on undoing the bottom three catches, revealing your uncovered abdomen. They grabbed at the two, now separate hangs of the shirt, your breath hitching when their fingers delicately grazed your bare skin, a minute jerk of your stomach as Hange began tying the fabric together so it fit tighter around your waist. So that was the trick to it, then? You must admit, it was an improvement.

You let out a heavy breath when they were done, and finally stepped away. It was harder to breathe when Hange was that close, you will not let that happen again. Feeling far too clouded upon their proximity, perhaps you were allergic to the fragrance, you reasoned.

“Better?” Their voice lowered, awaiting your judgment,

“Much, thank you.”

—

Mealtime came quickly after, you hadn't expected it to be so busy, or so populated. How many people does it take to effectively run a vessel of this size? Hange led you to the upper deck, evidently the largest space aboard, where mealtimes commonly occurred. A large pot of warm meat stew was being led out by a small woman from the galley, placed upon the floor as the crew grabbed portions as they pleased. Hange passed you a ceramic dish, before ladling a couple spoonfuls into your plate.

Thanking them, you looked around, spotting barely any dining tables or chairs, mainly stools or planks of wood nailed together to form a bench, most taken up by the sailors, as others sat themselves in the grooves on the ship deck, some on the rim of the ship itself. You shall not risk that, you thought, still adjusting to the feeling of a rocking vessel.

“You’re probably used to something more polished, but this is how we eat here,” Hange shrugged, “Try to enjoy the stew, Sasha truly works wonders with very little,”

“Landing at port was a godsend, I used fresh meat this time,” The brunette who brought out the food spoke, overhearing the conversation, who you assumed was Sasha. You stilled, this time? What about every other time, you thought, shuddering. Well, no time to adjust like the present. Sticking the spoon into the stew, you took a mouthful, before looking up at Hange in wonder, eyes wide, “This is delicious,”.

“Thank Sasha, she keeps us all standing,” Hange joked, placing a hand upon Sasha’s shoulder.

“What do you normally eat?” You asked, directing your question over to Sasha,

“Usually what we can grab and preserve for a long time, dried meats, beans, your city has a lovely selection of fruits so we’ve stocked some of those, too!” She smiled at you, and you found that she had quite a comforting presence, feeling at ease, you hoped you could form a friendship with her.

Hange excused themselves, as they had something to attend to with someone called Levi. You watched them as they walked away, interacting with their crewmates, laughing with them over something you couldn’t hear. They definitely knew how to command attention, their entire being was self-assured, and confident in themselves and their abilities. Dragging your eyes away, back to Sasha, who watched you with a smile on her face.

“You’re not what I expected when Hange told us the plan,”

“I hope I haven’t disappointed,” you retorted, not really knowing how else one could respond to that. Sasha simply laughed, “It’s a great deal different, but not disappointing,”.

—

You had remained on the deck, the crew wanting to have a little friendly spar for morale. If this was the only entertainment you could get, you’d gladly take it. Having finally secured a spot on one of the benches, you watched as different spars played themselves out.

After a few, though, it was all starting to become a bit monotonous. Feeling your eyes glaze over, you were suddenly conscious of the fact that you hadn’t had a good nights rest since Hange took you, where would you even sleep tonight?

Your attention was redirected when a crewmember called out Hange’s name, challenging them to a spar. The newly formed crowd cheered as Hange made their way into the sparring space. A smirk on their lips as they vaunted, hand clasping their sword as it was unsheathed. Finally take a good look at it, it was a fine piece of metal, sleek and thin. The handle was adorned with intricate patterned etchings.

You took notice of how Hange handled the blade, slender fingers wrapped around the hilt as they pointed it towards the opponent. No shaking, no hesitation. A sturdy, stable grasp, with an arrogant side smile that captivated you, eyes glued on their movements as the opponent tried to disarm them, unsuccessfully. Hange was slightly more agile, their body flowed like liquid, vivacious as they fought. It seemed like they could almost foresee the man’s footing and which way he’d direct an attack. They must’ve sparred together many times. A few more attempts and Hange trapped his blade, lifting his own up and twisting their arm. His sword fell to the floor with a clang, reverberating against the wooden deck.

“Damn it, Captain!” The opponent yelled out, frustration in his voice as he thought he’d actually win this time, Hange only hung their head back and laughed, the strands of hair that edged down their face slipped back, exposing their jaw and neck. A gentle smile escaped your lips as you watched, they looked so liberated, so strong. Hange truly was an enigmatic figure, they carried themselves with authority that you can’t say you’d ever seen elsewhere. They were charismatic, magnetic, you could see that they truly had the admiration of their crew.

“You’ll have to try harder to beat me,” Hange teased, sheathing their sword, a mischievous glaze in their eyes as they landed on you. Your heart picked up, unable to pull your own gaze away from theirs, almost enchanted when you noticed the corner of their lips tilt up.

Breaking away from the contact, you felt your ears grow warm. Deciding to find the wooden deck the most interesting thing around you, until scuffed boots appeared in your line of vision. Looking up, Hange had stepped closer to you, placing their hand into a pocket of their pants.

“Time to retire, my lady?”

Fumbling, you flustered, “Where am I to sleep?” Members of the crew were scattered, some sleeping on the floor of the deck, some had set up rustic hammocks, whilst others continued to wander the floor.

“In my quarters,” Hange stated as if it was obvious, “Unless you’d prefer to sleep next to that lot,” They pointed at the others, crewmates who slept on their stools with their heads resting on their arms placed on the brim of the ship. The expression on Hange’s face made it clear that they were mocking you, perfectly aware of how you would not prefer that option.

“I fear my spine would crumble,” You jested, your lie blatant.

“Come,” They nudged their head towards the stern of the ship, where the Captain’s private quarters were. Hange’s comfortable room with all the fascinating oddities. You’d much prefer sleeping there, you thought.

Following, Hange led you back to their space, all things considered, you felt rather guarded there. Strangely safe and sound. Something tugged at your mind that Hange wouldn’t stand for anything to happen to you, not even for you specifically— Hange’s crew appeared quite companionable, you attributed that to their leader. You wondered how far those pleasantries extended, what acts of horror were allowed and which were not.

Closing the door behind them, Hange hung up their outer coat on its peg, rolling their shoulders as a minor stretch. Bringing their hands up to the back of their neck, rubbing the tender muscle atop their skin.

You stood, clutching your elbows under crossed arms. The silence in the cabin contrasted the raucous crew outside, some still sparring.

“Was that moonshine?” Your voice broke through the quiet, looking towards the jar of liquid Hange had brought you as 'provisions'. "No, it's grog," "Grog?" "Rum and water," Pulling a face, you continued.

"Is it good?" "Not really, but we don't drink it for its taste." Nodding, you picked up the jar, inspecting. "Did you make it?" Hange scoffed, smirking to themselves, their arms coming to cross over their chest, "It's far easier to steal from merchant ships, they're always overloaded with stock," "I see."

"I think I would like to try it," Hange raised their eyebrows at you, a playful look struck their features. "Oh?" They continued, "I brought it for you, thought you might need a little pick-me-up, have at it."

Uncorking the jar, the aroma of the liquor invaded your senses. "It smells strong," Hange nodded, watching with a devilish face as you brought the rim to your lips. After a gulp, you couldn't hold back a cough as the force of the harsh drink burned through your throat, your lips twisting and your eyebrows squeezing together. "That's revolting," "Yeah, it's pretty bad," Hange laughed, grabbing the jar from you and taking a bigger gulp for themselves, passing it back to you. Truly, you don't know what possessed you to take another sip, but it became easier to tolerate.

A few half hours passed, and you had placed yourself on Hange's wicker couch, your bed for the foreseeable. Arms wrapped around your legs which pressed to your chest. You were definitely feeling the effects of the liquor, tolerance much lower than Hange's, who sat on the floor beside the couch. Feeling far more relaxed, your tongue was a tad looser, speaking to and asking Hange questions you would've otherwise probably not asked. Truthfully, you were curious, there was a lot you wished to learn about them. When you first met Hange, you expected a lot of things, you didn't anticipate them being quite as respectful and honourable towards you as they were. There was more to them than what was seen on the surface, you wanted to see what lay deeper.

"But why? Why do you choose to live a life of piracy? Wouldn't it be far safer to live on land?" "Not everyone is lucky enough to be born atop riches, that's an irregular gift given only to a few," Hange spoke, their words thoughtful despite having drank even more than you, "Life at sea is more forgiving than the hardships on land." "Yes, but... there must be something else, even with the hardships at land?

"No offence, my lady," Pausing, "What would you know of hardship on land? My father worked his hardest, damn near broke his back, just to be cheated and stripped of his dignity by the greed of others." Looking down at your knees, a pull of guilt struck, knowing that it was because of people like you, and your father.

"This was his way of ensuring his own future, on his own terms and not under the boot of the wealthy who build their livelihoods on the backs of others." Hange sighed, taking another sip of grog, "At least on the sea, what you see is what you get, fight for what you want and share the rewards. It's not the most honest work, yes, but it's far more honest than those sitting in ivory towers clicking their fingers for anything they desire."

You watched as Hange spoke, their words were true, honest reflections of everything they stood for. Pirate or not, Hange had more substance than you'd ever encountered in anyone else in your life. More than those who coat their words with sugar, kissing up to their higher-ups all for a sliver of what they had.

Hange passed you the jar, and you swallowed another sip, barely tasting the alcohol by this point. This was the first you had heard of Hange's family. "I understand that," you hummed, "I've always thought it unfair, why others are seen as less based on menial things such as money. I suppose my father was my introduction to that, a part of me has always despised him."

"I wondered why you came with me so willingly, though if I had your father I would probably have been similar." Laughing, you nodded, "Truthfully, I have felt disillusioned from my life, perhaps I wanted something refreshing, a different way of being."

"Besides, you intrigued me, I find you fascinating," Your words slipped out, the grog having seriously impacted your inhibitions. Hange's eyes met yours, impish and deviant. The edge of their lip quipped up, delightfully amused. "Is that right, my lady?" They leaned their weight on their right hand that was pressed against the cabin floor, as their left remained hanging off the leg they had propped up. Your skin burned underneath their gaze, and you found that your tongue shattered. Unable to respond, all you could do was meet their half-lidded stare, thunder in your chest, as it lifted up and down. Shit. "I think that's enough grog for you, princess,"

Breaking contact, you pointed at Hange's shelves, to where their collection lay, clearing your throat before speaking. "Like your collection, it-it's fascinating, I wish I could've grabbed mine," You deflected, altering the matter, anything to stop the thunder in your chest and remember yourself. Anything to stop the blaze before it spread far beyond control.

"When we set sail, you can start a new collection." They softened, "One with all the new plants you'll see,"

—

You felt like shit the following morning. Head thumping with each movement, you could only sit on one of the benches with your hands holding up the weight. "Grog fever?" Sasha's teasing voice rang out through your ears, "Been there."

"This is awful," "First time?" "Obviously," You rubbed your eyes, as Sasha lightly patted you on the back, "You'll survive,"

Two presences joined you and Sasha at your bench, one was shorter with black hair, and the other stood upright, with scraggly blonde hair. "This is Levi, he's the First Mate, pretty much Hange's second in command," Sasha spoke, introducing you, "Don't mind him, he's a bit of an ass." "The other is Reiner, also a bit of an ass," She giggled, finding entertainment within herself.

Levi nodded at you, a silent greeting which you didn't mind as listening and speaking were already hard enough with the thumping in your head. Reiner looked at you, before pulling his hand out to meet yours. "Lovely to meet such a beautiful lady," He declared, eyes scouring down your body, "I'm looking forward to having you aboard," His words reeked with flirtation, his cold eyes geeking you out, discomfiting, not like the handsome brown ones you melted into yesterday.

Almost as if reading your mind, Hange appeared, they had left the ship this morning, as apparently, they had some errands to run. Hange set their hands on Reiner's shoulders, carrying an indistinct countenance. "Reiner, I have matters to discuss, come," They spoke, before walking a few steps ahead, waiting for him near the stern, arms crossed.

"Coming, captain," Reiner followed their lead, you kept glancing over to them as Sasha picked up chatter with Levi. You were straining your ears to catch snippets of their conversation, a little difficult over Sasha's voice in front of you, the little you could make out came from Hange: Not this one.

As you switched your attention back to the table, wondering what the hell that was about, you had just bypassed Sasha's looking towards you, her brows crinkling and face pulling into a look of recognition. Huh, she thought, how about that?

—

As the day passed, the time to set sail was nearing, planned for sometime within the next two days depending on supplies and readiness. Apprehension was harder to ignore, you thought about what your father was currently doing, and his reaction upon discovering you had not been in your chambers the following morning. Mulling, you cackled to yourself, clasping your hand over your mouth to mask the giggles as the gravity of what you had done struck you. Never did you imagine your life to end up in this way.

Hange entered their quarters, hanging up their coat, "What's so funny?" " "I just can't believe what I'm doing," your laughter settled down, breathing returning to standard as Hange placed themselves next to you on the wicker couch. "Yeah? You 'n me, both," They chuckled, pausing, "Hey, uh- I wanted to give you this,"

You studied them, catching a modest element of hesitation on Hange that you weren't familiar with seeing. Hange handed you a book, of beautifully bound brown leather, the spine stitching exposed with light-coloured thread. "What is this for?" "You left your notes behind, so this is for your new collection," You gaped at them, prompting Hange to continue, "For all the new plants you'll see and learn about,"

Wordless, you looked between Hange and the book in your hands, feeling the skin at your cheeks heating up. "Hange, this is- thank you, so much," Nodding, Hange steeled, standing themselves up, nearing the door before speaking, "The shantyman is going to play for a while, the crew loves him, so you don't wanna miss it," It was customary for ships to bring musicians. They'd sing songs and play tunes to boost morale amongst the crew, to carry them through the harrowing nights, and oftentimes even spread their hopes for some romance. You definitely wanted to witness it, Hange held the cabin door open for you as you both made your way to the deck.

The musician was doing his thing, leading the crew in song, banging a drum as melodies rang through the vessel. You noticed Sasha dancing with the crewmembers. It was a little overwhelming, the events you had attended at court were much milder and reserved than this, uppity, really. People would rarely dance, it was almost taboo. This was far distant from that, it was fun, delightful even—almost hedonistic in style.

You weren’t quite sure how to join yourself with them, the dances varying from person to person made it hard to fall into a step. Hange noticed your hesitance, before clasping your hand and pulling you towards them. Their hand resting upon your waist, drawing you tighter as they moved into a dance. The air in your lungs tripped over itself, shortening your breath. Stomach pressed against stomach.

Looking up at them, Hange donned a smug smile, higher up on one side of their mouth as it hung from their lips.

“Dance with me, princess,” Hange hummed, their voice lowered. There came the thunder in your chest again, the blaze was spreading.

“I’ve told you to not address me like that,” You whispered, the contention you planned on executing in your voice was nowhere near where you had planned. Instead, it was mild, for fear that would fumble over your own words, as your tongue shattered once again.

“I can’t help it,” They grinned, skimming over your flustered appearance. You don’t know what kind of sorcery Hange held, what alluring magnetism in their blood drew you to them. You felt yourself begin to melt into their tempting gaze, as you blinked.

“Careful, don’t look at me like that or I might begin to get the wrong idea,” Hange’s head sank towards your neck, your breath hitched. Their proximity was intoxicating, you found you couldn’t bear the weight of it. Pulling yourself away from Hange, you rushed to the cabin, pushing open the door and letting yourself inside.

Letting out a bulky breath, your face was burning up, body temperature way over standard as you rested your hands on Hange’s desk. Clamouring to compose yourself. Hange knocked at the door, before entering. Shutting your eyes, you remained still.

“You okay?” Ignoring them, you relented in your stance. The tension in the room increased, heart pulsing as you heard their footsteps reach close.

“I think I have fever,” You mumbled, Hange was right behind you now. You could feel their warmth reaching your back.

“Stand and face me, dear,” An assertive hand maintained at your waist, turning your body toward them Hange held down your gaze, keeping their hand in its place, squeezing. “This is no fever,”

Their free hand came to meet your jaw, thumb ghosting over the soft skin. Hange lowered their head towards you, their face so near, your sanity was in a thick haze, heavy and clouded. "I can see the dark in your eyes, my lady," Hange hummed, relishing in the glaze in your eyes, at the darkness pooling in your pupils as you glimmered up at them, eyes doe and lips plump from biting. The heat from their voice raised your skin, touring down your spine as an ache between your thighs pulsed.

Hange's lips brushed against the velvety flesh at the base of your neck, tentative. You shivered as you felt their lips leave delicate kisses, hand tightening around your waist. You shut your eyes, reeling in the sensation as Hange's igniting touch drew shaky breaths. Thighs clenched together as their lips reached the base of your ear, teeth tugging at the skin. You whimpered, as Hange's hands grabbed at the top of your thighs, just underneath the curve of your ass as they directed you to the top of the desk. Placing themselves between your thighs, before whispering, "Will you indulge me, dear?" With another kiss on your ear, you crumbled, arms wrapping around Hange's neck as your legs folded around their waist.

"Please, Hange, I can't bear it," You panted, core clenching around nothing, as desperation took over. Hange sighed, hearing their name fall from your lips as your body trembled was a sight to behold. Their lips finally landed on yours, tongue pushing into your mouth. Quivering hands grabbed at the back of their head, tightening around Hange's hair, trying to release the buildup of tension in your bones.

Lips broke apart, "Do you know what it does me seeing you wear my clothes?" Voice impassioned, almost hoarse. The hand at your hip moved to the catches at your shirt, reminiscent of the way they grazed your skin that day. Undoing the catches, your abdomen and breasts exposed, goosebumps forming from the sudden coolness of the air. Hange observed as your stomach jerked, smirking as they watched how your body responded. Hand slipping in between the open fabric, meeting the bare skin as you gasped before the shirt slid off your shoulders and onto the cabin floor.

Hange whined at your revealed skin and dishevelled state, the most disordered they had seen you. Their hand cupped your breast, watching as your lips parted and the sweetest cries escaped. Fingers stroking at your hardened nipples, as your pants were slowly being dragged down your legs. Your hips squirmed as Hange went on their knees, head just at the top of your shins. One hand still massaged your nipple whilst the other was around your ankle, holding your leg in place as they lapped their tongue up the skin, retaining steady eye contact. As their tongue reached your inner thigh, your head hung back, and you bit back choked whimpers, hips jolting with anticipation.

"Hange," you rasped, squeezing your thighs around their head, your nails coming to meet the top of the back, "Yes, my dear?" "Please," you pleaded, you had already come this far, you needed to feel it through, you could barely sit up, losing strength in your back. "Patience, sweetheart,"

Fingers left your breasts and made their way to the hem of your underwear. Hange bit their lip at the line of the dampness that had seeped through the thin fabric. "Fuck," they mumbled, tugging the material down where it remained hanging at your ankles, so dishevelled, so messy.

The tips of Hange’s slender fingers reached your dripping heat, arousal covering your thighs as they ghosted sensual touches over your warm slit, puffed and leaking. Thighs tensing as the feeling released itself as strangled whines. Hange was obsessed, exhilarated by the sweet sounds that left your dear lips.

“Fuck, Hange,” Hips rolling into their fingers, pressing closer for more touch, chasing the sensation as it came, "That feels fucking good," "Such rotten language," Hange taunted, the tip of their finger burying into your soaking entrance, stretching the silky walls, “Looks like I’ve been a bad influence,”

Leaving a few more kisses on your thigh, Hange stood back up to reconnect your lips, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. The kiss successfully distracted you, as more fingers entered, slowly rocking into your flesh, as bliss overtook the initial sting. Hips began to tilt, grinding against the pressure. The sounds leaving you were indecent, vulgar, as Hange augmented the pace, rocking their fingers into you. Suddenly you were glad for the singing out in the deck, obscuring the noise within the cabin. Your head fell into their neck, whining as you could only sit there and take it. Fingers stuffing your swollen centre, pressing against the squishy barriers.

The muscles in your abdomen tensed, clenching around Hange's fingers as your hips buckled. "That's it, dear, you're taking it so, so well," Your eyebrows pinched together, voice escaping you, "Taking me like such a good girl,". Hange spoke, voice purring. That was the nail in the coffin; the honey in their words, the strain in their voice as you felt your release shattering through you. Hips convulsed as your arousal spilled all over Hange's fingers, grabbing their shoulders for support. A few more pumps and Hange removed their fingers, looking down at your clenching hole at the trickling cum, their hand completely drenched.

Hange kissed you, before you broke away and uttered words that led Hange to understand they could never have their fill, "More, please," you begged, voice breathy and whiny as you tightened your legs around their waist. Chuckling, endeared Hange responded, "My, my, dear, you're truly filthy."

Hange moved themselves down to your pussy, still swollen despite its release. With a quick glance back towards you, cheeks flustered and eyes black. Desire tensed your features as your chest heaved up and down, breasts exposed and legs spread, quaking. Such a heavenly sight.

A touch over your slit, Hange spat on your folds, the sight eliciting languid moans from you. It truly was filthy. Pussy clenching with desperation as it grazed you, spreading down your slit with the weight of gravity. Hange pressed their tongue against it, carelessly lapping up the cum that had been leaking out of you. Frenzied guttural groans liberated into your centre as they sucked, the vibrations left you reeling as your hand came to clasp your breast, kneading. Trailing over your own nipple, Hange was not about to accept that, slapping your hand away and rolling their fingers over the bud.

Overstimulation left you choking, tears spilling from your lids as Hange worked their warm tongue over your sensitive folds, drinking in the saltiness as one hand played with your nipple and the other ghosted over your opening. Thighs tightened around their head, cutting off Hange's air supply as you rutted your hips over their face, pushing yourself closer against their tongue. Nose nudging over your clit as their head bounced against you.

“Hange, fuck— I’m, mhm- I’m gonna cum, please let me come,” You babbled, stammering. Needy. You took them in, nose, chin and cheeks wet from your arousal, saliva running down; their eyebrows pulled together with determination and eyes rolling with indulgence, as if you were the tastiest meal they ever had. The taught restraint you had carried your entire life totally dissipated as you surrendered to Hange’s command over your body. Fingers filling into you, knuckles deep, rubbing over the squishy flesh. The added penetration forced out the second catharsis, sucking Hange in as you released over their face, tainting their glasses.

Resting your back on the desk, breaths heavy as you came down from whatever entity had possessed you. Panting. You covered your face with your hands, as your clandestine actions struck you. The drunken, indecent impropriety you fell into and enjoyed.

“No use being bashful now, my lady,” They teased, dragging away the hands that obscured your face. Grabbing your face, reconnecting your lips with gentle touches. Kisses so tender you couldn’t find it within yourself to see anything wrong.

How could something so honeyed be perverse?

—

um yeah, this is my application to hell…

#pirate hange bc im obssessed #also why is there barely any fics on hange like have yall seen them???#someone call the doctor cos i am SICK #lowkey an essay on my hatred towards rich people 😭#also ive been reading lots of sappho can u tell #lesbian #hange zoe x reader #hange aot #hanji zoe x reader #attack on titan fic #wlw smut #hange zoe fic #hange zoe #hanji zoe

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lkfarrout · 10 days ago

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We all know that Grunkle Stan is way smarter than he's given credit for - I mean the man fixed an interdementional portal without even a high school diploma. But I think we underestimate how *clever* he is and how much this man LOVES to do bits.

In episode 2, he takes the kids fishing and makes them wear blindfolds in the car for... no reason? He doesn't take them to a secluded fishing spot, they just go to the main place where the rest of the townfolks are fishing. This man will do anything for the bit just because he thinks it's funny or that the kids will find it entertaining.

Stan definitely knew that the bottomless pit would spit them back out. I mean, there's no way he would let the kids actually fall into a pit if he didn't know for sure it would be harmless. But he still puts on a show of "Oh let me get rid of these tickets-- oh no! I'm dramatically falling into the pit! Let me grab all of you and pull you down too!" I think he knew Dipper would find it cool and wanted to go on a little adventure with everyone and then he still pretended to be freaked out and even annoyed that they were in the pit! What a silly goose!

I would go as far as to say that his fear of heights and his interest in Lazy Suzan were fabricated just because he saw an opportunity to bond with Mabel and get into some antics with her.

This guy will do anything to spend time with the kids. He puts on elaborate acts to keep their attention and make sure they're having fun and doing things that they like with him! What a cutie!

And knowing about what happened the first night with the magic 8 ball... this makes a lot of sense. He feels a need to make sure they're having fun and aren't bored ALL summer so they won't leave. And to an extent, I think he needs them to accept that, yeah, he's a criminal and steals and drives poorly and everything but if he makes it fun enough they'll accept even that part of him. The part of him that almost scared them away the first night. In the end, Stan really just wants to be loved, and more importantly, *liked* by the twins.

#gravity falls #stanley pines #grunkle stan #mabel pines #dipper pines

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princessbrunette · 9 months ago

Note

this is so specific but we all know that grey coors light muscle tank that jj wears in season 1 i’m pretty sure, but imagine him waking up to reader wearing that shirt NO BRA dude would go fully teenage boy mode and just stare at your chest cause like HELLO THEY ARE ALMOST SPILLING OUT

˖⁺‧₊˚🐈‍⬛˚₊‧⁺˖

he wakes up quite literally a minute before you, sitting up on his side of the bed as he wakes up fully, rubbing his hands over his eyes. he didn’t remember falling asleep that night, just that he’d passed out after giving it to you for a solid hour, sweaty and spent. he hasn’t even noticed you yet, more so what you’re wearing — because when you stir and he turns half around to check on you, he quite literally forgets how to breathe.

you’re on your back, blankets jostled around your legs as you stretch— eyes still blissfully shut. you must’ve pulled his shirt on before you’d fallen asleep, and he had to say you wore it better than he ever could. it hung loose on you, the large armhole gaping, pulled a little across your chest to the point where the fat of your tit spilled out the side, had it been peeled any further to the right and your nipple would be on display.

“good lord, good morning to me.” he rasps, yawning and your eyes flutter open, a soft smile on your face as you reach a hand toward him, stroking the skin you could reach.

“hi, jayjie.” you hum, and he’s convinced you could have called him any name — because he’s not listening to a word, eyes on your tits.

“you know i thought i looked pretty good in that shirt, but holy mother of mary you’re wearin’ the shit out of it. like, seriously. you kinda just woke my dick up too.”

you giggle, looking down at yourself with one eye as you rub the sleep out of the other. you pull the material so you’re more decent, much to his dismay.

“i forgot i put it on.” you sit up slowly, stretching once more and arching your back, hard nipples from the cool morning air sticking through the light grey fabric. he stares for another moment before he just can’t stop himself.

“i hate to ask this of you so early in the mornin’ but uh— please let me touch them.” he rushes out, eyes wide and saucepan-like and you roll your eyes tiredly, taking his hands and pressing them to your tits.

“dont have to ask, jj. they’re yours to grab whenever you want.” you pur, knowing the effect it’ll have on him. he keels over a little from his now knelt position.

“oh wow— okay, yeah saying that kinda thing is totally unfair. you know that’s gonna brick me up babe. c’mon.” he lightly scolds as he massages your chest, getting his moneys worth.

“such a shame jj… can i help you with it? the least i could do?” you flutter your lashes and gently paw at his chest so he lays back down, quickly sliding down his body and dropping kisses to his pelvis making his jaw drop.

“its like i made you in a freaking lab… jesus.”

“i just like breakfast in bed, jayj.” you giggle, starting to mouth at his tip as he reaches full stiffness. he tucks his tongue between his lips with a smile as he watches you, before commenting quietly.

“yeah. sausage n’eggs right? ow— okay, that’s my bad.” he’s met with your teeth sinking into his thigh.

˖⁺‧₊˚🐈‍⬛˚₊‧⁺˖

#anon #jj maybank prompt

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mediumgayitalian · 7 months ago

Text

———

Hand tight around the handle of his sword. Shadows pulled close, close, closer; cloak, hood, shroud. Still as a stone, hardly moving, barely breathing, waiting, waiting, tensing.

The whispers outside his cabin door grow louder.

He shot awake half an hour ago. A shift, under the cracked-open window, rustling, turning. Fabric, maybe, or fur brushing across the polished stone of the wall. Not a hellhound — he’d feel the bent shadows of its presence — nor any other creature from the Underworld, but clearly something dark, foreboding. Some heavy, stifling presence. And many of them, too, or perhaps one thing that is growing. It shouldn’t be possible within camp borders, but he can — feel it. A sense of ambush, of impending attack.

Every few minutes there’s a shake at his door handle. A wiggling of the Stygian iron metal, a whisper of sound as it’s jiggled, fruitlessly, a hiss as something draws away. The sound of quiet, throaty murmurs, muffled through the obsidian door. Escalating. Louder, louder; angrier, frantic.

Something is waiting for him.

It’s some comfort that it can’t get in. The handle was his design — not that most monsters would try to use it, but the burn as it touched their flesh, the threat of the Pit, would certainly would deter them. The obsidian doorway he insisted upon, regardless of skeletal complaints, was for practicality as much as pageantry. He has spent enough time in the well-run Land of the Dead to take notes from his father, paranoid he may be.

The noises, though, still grow stronger. Whatever is waiting for him has not been deterred by his fortifications, nor frightened by his aura of death. The handle jiggles again, and this time, the intruder is smarter — the lock turns, clicking as it is overcome, handle turning to follow it slowly, slowly. Nico holds his breath, gliding along the shadow, hovering in the doorway.

The door swings silently open. A clumsy lump of something steps hesitantly forward, huge and cumbersome; bulbous. At the front of it is a single long, glowing talon. The intruder pauses, contemplating, in the flood of low light, the cabin’s twisting shadows, turning slowly, carefully around. Nico glides along the floor, guessing at its blindspot, holding close to himself, waiting, waiting.

One.

The creature pauses.

Two.

The talon twitches to the left, following the creak of the settling bed springs.

Three.

Nico surges forward, bringing down his sword. It clangs against the talon, reverberating outwards, echoing the screams of the monster and tear of fabric —

“Nico! Nico! It’s us! Cool it! Watch the sword! Watch the sword!”

A burst of fire shoots upward, enveloping the cabin in a burst of white light. Nico hisses, nearly dropping his sword in his hassle to clamp his hand on top of his eyes, hunching protectively forward.

“Leo! Fucksake, you tryna blind us?!”

“Sorry! Sorry! He freaked me out, I flamed too hard!”

“Just fuckin’ — scream, next time! Jesus! I’ve gone blind!”

“What the fuck,” hisses Nico, blinking the spots out of his eyes, “are you idiots doing?”

In front of him stands not a monster but five infuriatingly familiar faces, each holding — for some reason — a mattress. Percy’s sword is still held loosely in front of him, and Jason’s jacket has been singed. Piper and Annabeth blink spots out of their eyes. Leo stands, in the charred ruins of his mattress, wringing his hands.

He glances up at the ceiling. Nico follows his gaze, noting where the black rock has been re-vulcanized into glass from the heat of the flames. He looks back down.

“From the bottom of my heart,” Leo says, solemnly, “my bad.”

Nico sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

His friends, for some reason, take this as a cue. The heavy door is pushed back closed, cutting off the last of the low light from the Greek fire torches outside and the whistling of light wind. Someone feels around for a light switch, and, upon finding none, shrugs and pokes Leo until his nose catches fire, guiding him around until all the lamps and fairy lights have been located and turned on. Someone else — Annabeth, he guesses — begins instructing mattress placement, directing a crew to dig through his closet for linens. A comment about how spacious it is now that he’s not in it pops into his mind and he shoved it back down. He will not make light of the situation. He won’t.

“What the fuck,” he reiterates, louder this time.

Nobody answers. A faucet starts running in his background, and he hears the flip of a drachma.

“If nobody answers me in the next ten seconds I’m going to reanimate Andre the Giant and have him bodily throw y’all out. He will not be gentle. He will —”

“Y’all count,” they all say at once. Percy, gleefully from the bathroom’s running faucet, calls, “I’ll keep track! Remember if it goes over twelve I win!”

Nico snaps his mouth shut, ears burning.

Why has he remained at camp, again? He trained with Achilles and Patroclus. He learned how to read with Literal Shakespeare. Alan Turing taught him math. Not successfully, or anything, but still. He has no bearing here. He could be anywhere he wants to be, and for some reason he is putting up with unrepentant disrespect.

Nico four months ago would smite them. Nico five months ago would turn them to shadows for their insolence. Nico a few weeks ago, even, would have at least sulked off into the forest to cool of for several days.

Here he stands, Nico of tonight.

Unmoving in the centre of his sieged cabin.

No Andre the Giant raised.

No terrors inflicted.

Hardly even a threat.

What the shit.

“What love does to a young lad, eh?” Piper says, patting him condescendingly on the head. He aims a kick for her knees, which she unfortunately dodges, cackling and scampering away. He surges after her.

“I am several decades older than you, you little snot, what are you even talking about —”

“Older and uglier, you wrinkly ass bitch —”

“Guess who’s gonna be ugly when I remove the flesh from her body —”

“Ha! Catch me first, shrimp arms —”

“It’s working! I got it!” Walking very carefully, not unlike a toddler holding a too-full open cup for the first time, Percy steps out of the bathroom, faucet finally off. In his cupped hands is a quickly spinning vortex of sink water, letting off a fine mist. A prism taped to the side of his forehead refracts a rainbow into it. “Say hi, Hazel!”

“Hi,” says Hazel, waving from her surprisingly solid connection. She meets Nico’s eyes, grinning. He matches it immediately, dropping Piper out of the headlock he had her in.

“Hey,” he says, ignoring Piper’s dark muttering and promises for revenge. “You look eager.”

“I am eager. I heard we’re having a sleepover and talking about boys!”

“…You heard what.”

Percy shucks off his shoes, stepping gingerly over Jason and plopping right in the middle of the mattress pile, legs crossed. Nico realises for the first time that he is wearing pattered Superman pajamas, which is frustratingly endearing. He shifts the water vortex so that Hazel’s projection faces him.

“I’m so pumped,” he says earnestly. “I’ve never done this before. I’m so intrigued. Do we talk shit? Is that how it’s done? Is there swooning? I have a plan if there’s swooning.”

“We’ll get there, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth brushes a hand through Percy’s hair as she walks by — somehow dignified, which is impressive, Nico has never seen anyone wobble over a mattress elegantly before — and presses a kiss to his forehead. He leans into it. “Ease into it.”

“Yeah,” Hazel snickers. She sticks her tongue out at Nico’s glare. “Don’t spook him.”

Nico throws his hands up. “Don’t spook me, she says. Heaven forbid anyone tell me what’s going on.”

“Well, you’re trying to court that boy, right? The cute one with the motormouth?”

Crazy how two sentences can reach down your throat, grip onto your beating heart, squeeze out your soul, drag it from your body, still pulsing, and leave it to actively shrivel on the floor next to your withered, fetal-positioned body to the audience of your cackling friends. Genuinely wild.

There’s a woman who wanders around the poplar fields of his father’s kingdom and has for tens of thousands of years — longer than even his father. Legend says she is the first user of language as it is understood in modernity. Nico may have to beat her up the next time he sees her. Or, well, try, ‘cause she’s jacked, but her crime cannot go unpunished. How dare she introduce the curse of language upon the human race.

“Which one of you,” he croaks, voice cracking more than Jason’s old man joints when he sneezes, “you — fuckers, told my sister about — about.”

If he says his name he’ll die. Like Voldemort except not stupid.

When he looks up, all five of them hold their hands proudly in the air.

“It was more of a conference call,” Jason explains. “And it was less ‘us telling’ and more us calling to say hey, Hazel, Nico keeps shutting down every time this particular person smiles at him, and then Hazel went oh, is it the medic boy he keeps rambling about when he calls me, and we went yeah, totally, can you elaborate on the rambling —”

“Cool.” Nico scrambles to his feet, brushing off his sweatpants, tucking his sword under his arm. “I’m going to go drown myself, if y’all will excuse me.”

He barely makes it one quarter step away from the stupid fucking mattress pile.

“Initiate part two of the plan!” Annabeth hollers.

“Y’all count!” Percy yells.

Without waiting to be chased, Nico sprints for the door. Immediately a fireball is launched at the handle before he can reach, melting it. He veers for the window, but a gust of air slams it shut, and a shining dagger pins the lock in place. In his final desperate dive for the nearest shadow, Piper sprints over — curse her long legs — and tackles him to the ground, rolling them both towards the nearest light source.

“Every single one of you —”

“Ow! Teeth away! Teeth away! Don’t make me muzzle you!”

“—except you, Hazel, never you —”

“Jason! He’s fuckin’ — his nails are clawed into the doorframe, help me!”

“—will be facing me in judgement day! And I shall not be lenient!”

“Quit trying to bite me or I’ll beat you up again!”

“No! Suffer!”

Conveniently, a spot on the uncomfortable floor has been left free of mattresses and pillows and beddings so that Nico and Piper can claw the shit out of each other properly. He lands a good hit on his collarbone, but she jams her heel into his ribs when he foolishly leaves his left side open. He manages to pin her arms to her sides with his legs, but she mirrors the move and squeezes her thighs around his neck.

“Do you usually just let them kill each other?”

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it. They didn’t get to spar yesterday so they’re a bit pent up, they’ll be fine soon.”

“…Must be a Greek thing.”

“Don’t you guys have Violence Fridays?”

“Uh, not quite.”

“We have war games,” Jason explains, “but there are generally repercussions for aiming for one’s jugular.”

Annabeth frowns. “Well, that seems flawed. How do you children ever learn to defend themselves?”

“If I recall correctly, by surviving to adulthood.”

“Touché.”

Knowing the scolding he’s about to get is going to be fierce, Nico rolls them both towards his (thankfully untouched) bed, sinking them into the shadows under it and popping up on top of Jason’s reclining body. As he planned, the combined chaos of Jason’s screech and Piper’s nausea gives him just enough leeway to kick himself free and scramble away behind Annabeth. Not that she’ll usually protect him, but he has a feeling that she has an itinerary and is therefore invested in keeping them on task.

“Okay,” she says, holding Piper back by the forehead — success. “Piper, put the nails away. Nico, quit making faces at her or I’m gonna let her claw you. Go sit on opposite ends of the mattress pile.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” they both say, immediately cowering and Annabeth’s glare and scampering to do as asked.

“Thank you. Alright, everybody grab a blanket and gather around. Nico, is there a — thermostat in here, or something?” She tightens the skull-patterned blanket (that she stole from his closet like the thief that she is) around her shoulders. “It’s freezing.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “I prefer to have my external environment the internal temperature of my soul.”

He smiles smugly to himself at the chorus of boos that echo around him. That was a good one. He feels no shame.

“You should,” Percy tells him seriously.

“Stick your finger in a socket.”

Annabeth tosses an overflowing binder into the centre of the mattress pile before they can really start to go at it.

“Be quiet and behold,” she says grandly, “the plan.”

Nico stares at it dubiously. “The plan.”

“Yes, the plan.”

“Say plan one more time and I’m chewing the floor.”

“You’re such an odd person.”

“Having your fucked up ghost mentor put you in a labyrinth to be hunted for sport by his monster friends for ‘training’ will do that to you.”

Will once told him that he reverts to making people uncomfortable via depressing personal anecdotes when he is nervous. Startlingly perceptive for someone who, in the same breath, asked Nico if he could bring his siblings to the picnic Nico had planned in the strawberry fields for them, alone, at sunset.

“Just — open the binder, oh my gods.”

Huffing, Nico does.

It’s less intimidating than it looks. The heavily doodled title page reads OPERATION: WOOING WILL, which is embarrassing, but the rest of it is as cleanly professional. Several sub chapters including plans A-L, gathered information, outside input, sources, and hand-drawn diagrams are neatly organized and typed out. It’s even in dyslexia-friendly font. Truly a work of art. Too bad Nico is considering incinerating it.

“It’s not even gonna work,” he mumbles, pointedly avoiding the six pairs of eyes watching him. Well, five, Leo walked in the cabin and immediately got distracted by something else. He’s been poking at a pile of bronze for the past forty minutes at least. “He’s — unplannable.”

“Nothing’s unplannable.”

“He is. He doesn’t — think about things. In the same way.” Nico traces his fingers over a page titled Dropping Hints — How Begging Someone To Go Out With You Has Changed In Seventy Years. “You and me’ll see someone go out of their way to make life easier on somebody and know they’re — crushing, or whatever. But Will goes out of his way for everybody, all the time. It’s not odd for him.”

“Can’t you just tell him? Outright?” Hazel asks. “I mean, he told you, didn’t he?”

“That’s different.”

It isn’t, really. Nico could tell him. He could walk up to breakfast tomorrow and just blurt it out. Same words, even. I think you’re gorgeous.

He wants to. He wants Will to know, wants his bright eyes to go wide and his nose to go red and his voice to go quiet as he says, really? And Nico wants to feel the goosebumps that cover his arms when he rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist and says, yes. Wants to watch him shiver as he says, you make me feel safe, you know. Watch his golden eyelashes flutter as he adds, wanted. Safe and wanted.

“It has to feel right.”

———

#i wanted to finish so bad but it’s like 1am i gotta be up in five hours #oh well #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #solangelo #nico di angelo #nico di angelo & the seven #annabeth chase #modern courting #my writing #fic #longpost

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thebunnednun · 6 months ago

Text

Good neighbors Farmer! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (Part 1)

64.media.tumblr.com

AHHHH! Special thanks to @bakugotrashpanda for the prompt/drabble. Freaking love their works!

Okay, fangirling done.

Art is done by: This lovely user here!

I made the Reader come off as so thirsty in this.

_________________________________________________

Every morning, without fail, Farmer Bakugou stops by your cottage with a basket of fresh produce or a dozen eggs in hand. He strides up the path, his rugged frame silhouetted against the morning sun, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with every step. His voice is a low, familiar rumble as he hands over the goods. "Had too many," he grumbles, his tone almost gruff. "What’s a single guy like me going to do with that much food?"

You smile, accepting the gift with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Bakugou. You're too kind." As you speak, your eyes can't help but linger on his sun-kissed skin, admiring the way it glows under the morning light. His hair, tousled and wild, adds to his rugged charm, and you find yourself looking forward to these visits more than you'd care to admit.

"Hmph," he mutters, looking away slightly as if embarrassed by your gratitude. "Just don't let it go to waste, alright?"

The best part of your morning routine, however, comes later. After he leaves, you settle into your favorite chair by the window, sipping on a cup of tea as you watch Bakugou get to work in the fields. He moves with a confident, easy grace, each action purposeful and efficient.

Every now and then, he pauses to wipe the sweat from his brow, using the bottom of his shirt. The fabric lifts, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his chiseled abs, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

When the sun is high and the heat becomes almost unbearable, you decide it’s time to bring him some lemonade. You carefully prepare a pitcher of the cool, refreshing drink, knowing that Bakugou will appreciate it.

As you approach him, you notice that his shirt has come off entirely, his bare torso glistening with sweat. The sight of his broad shoulders and well-defined muscles highlighted by the sunlight makes your breath catch in your throat.

"Hey, Bakugou," you call out, trying to keep your voice steady. "I brought you some lemonade."

He turns, a soft smirk tugging at his lips as he sees you. "Thanks," he says, taking the glass you offer. His fingers brush yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. As he drinks, you can't help but admire the way his throat works, the strong lines of his jaw and neck, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath.

"You’re always so thoughtful," he says, setting the glass down. His voice is softer now, almost tender. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words. "Just returning the favor. You’re always bringing me fresh produce, after all."

Bakugou chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Guess we make a good team, then."

As you stand there, sharing a moment of quiet companionship in the middle of the sunlit fields, you can’t help but wonder if there might be something more to your relationship than just neighborly kindness. The way his eyes linger on you, the way his smile softens when he looks your way—there’s a warmth there, a connection that goes beyond words.

"How's the farm been treating you?" you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Busy, as always," he replies, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "But I don't mind. It's good, honest work. Keeps me fit."

You glance at his well-toned physique, unable to disagree. "Well, if you ever need an extra hand, you know where to find me."

Bakugou's eyes light up with amusement. "You? In the fields? I'd pay to see that."

You laugh, feeling a flutter in your chest at his playful teasing. "Hey, I can be tough when I need to be."

"I don’t doubt it," he says, his voice serious again. "You're tougher than you look. And smarter too. That shitty garden of yours would've died by now, otherwise."

The awkward compliment catches you off guard, and you find yourself looking away, suddenly shy. "Thanks, Bakugou."

"Anytime," he replies, his voice soft and sincere. "And I mean that."

As you stand there, the sun beating down and the cicadas buzzing in the distance, you realize that these quiet moments with Bakugou are what you cherish most about your day. There’s a comfort in his presence, a sense of belonging that you’ve never felt before. you know its crazy, but you can’t help but hope that he feels the same way.

Bakugou notices your lingering gaze and, for once, doesn't bark at you to stop staring. Instead, he shifts closer, his usual scowl softening just a touch. "You know," he begins, his voice lower, more intimate, "if you ever get tired of being cooped up in that cottage of yours, you're always welcome to come by the farm. Could use someone to keep me company."

Your heart skips a beat at his words. "I might just take you up on that," you reply, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

He nods, satisfied with your answer. "Good. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you," he adds, his smirk returning.

"I wouldn’t dream of it," you say, laughing softly.

Bakugou gives you one last look, his eyes warm and intense. "Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t want you getting sick or something."

"I will," you promise, touched by his concern.

With that, he turns back to his work, and you head back to your cottage, a newfound warmth in your chest. As you glance back one last time, you see him watching you, a small, secret smile playing on his lips. There’s a comfort in his presence, and for now, you're content with this little exchange you've developed.

______________________________________________________________

Okay, that was my first mha fanfic! Lemme know what y'all think!

Part 2: Link here

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo #bakugo katuski #farmer bakugou #mha fanfiction

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maxinesgun · 2 months ago

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Can you write about reader comforting Jacob

nothing but time ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

pairing: jacob custos x f!reader

summary: you and jacob are hiding away together in one of the cabins after everything has gone to hell. an admission of what really happened to the van leads to an inadvertent confession of his feelings for you.

cw: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, jacob pining, mentions of blood, swearing, tending to jacob's injury, first kiss, a bit of angst, reader makes him nervousss (2.7k)

a/n: i thought this prompt paired well with an idea i already had, so i decided to combine them. hope you like! also i did not mean for it to turn out this long lol

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck.”

Needless to say, you were not great with blood.

And there was a lot of it.

Jacob released a long, slow breath through clenched teeth as he lowered himself down onto the bunk bed, taking care not to rest any weight on his injured leg. His brows were furrowed and all the hard lines of his body were tensed in pain, but he was handling this remarkably well, considering. You’d think you were the one who had stepped in a bear trap.

You were trying your best to think about what a rational person would do in this situation—not that the situation you were currently in was in any way normal. What did one do when being hunted by werewolves at a closed-down summer camp with no way to escape or call for help? You shook your head, determining that going down that road would send you into full-blown panic mode. Instead, you narrowed it down: What did one do when one’s friend had stepped in a bear trap?

“Bandages,” you said firmly, more to give yourself a clear goal to focus on than anything. “Okay, yes. I think there’s a first aid kit in here somewhere.” You felt Jacob’s gaze on you as you began kneeling down to grope blindly under each of the bunk beds. You guessed you must have looked somewhat frantic, judging by the way he was looking at you as if you’d just started speaking a different language.

“Okay, I’m getting the sense that you’re really freaked out right now, but really, I’m fine. It’s not that bad. Look, I can still bend my—ah, shit.”

“You’re sitting there with a bloody stump for a foot and you’re telling me not to freak out?” you scoffed as you ducked to peer under one of the last beds, practically pressing yourself to the floor. It was dark in here, and you tried not to think about all of the mouse droppings and spiderwebs your arm was probably brushing against. Right now, that was the absolute least of your worries. Eventually your hand knocked against something solid, and a rush of relief washed over you as you pulled out the small first aid kit. “Got it.”

“Hey, come on. I know it looks bad, but I still have a foot.” You could tell he was making an effort to sound like his usual self, light and joking, but his voice was strained, his breathing a bit heavy.

“Pretty soon you won’t, if it gets infected,” you pointed out as you returned to the bed he was on and crouched down in front of him with the kit, rifling through its contents.

“Okay, not helping.” He watched as you pulled out a roll of bandages and a tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol, a twinge of uncertainty flitting across his features. “You, uh, know what you’re doing with that?”

“No, not really,” you said, grimacing as you examined his ankle. It was caked in drying blood and dirt from when he’d had to race through the forest barefoot. You took a steadying breath, willing yourself to stay cool as you focused on ripping off a small piece of fabric from your already-torn shirt. “It’s not too complicated though, right? Clean the wound, then wrap it up. Easy. I took first aid once when I was like, fourteen.”

Jacob nodded, leaning an arm on the bedpost. He didn’t look too reassured. “Oh, great. See, that makes me feel a lot better.”

You shot him a sharp look, glancing up momentarily from where you were leaning over his leg. You found that his eyes had already been on you, and you thought you saw something in them soften as his lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “Sorry. Just kidding. You’re who I’d trust most with this kinda thing, anyway.”

“Really? Not Dylan?” you joked, using the bunched-up scrap of fabric to gently wipe around the wound as much as you could. When you placed a hand on his calf to hold him in place, you noticed the way he stiffened, went completely still, but you attributed it to him trying to brace against the pain.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head a little. “You know what, scratch that. Definitely Dylan.”

You reached for the rubbing alcohol next, unscrewing it and holding him in place a little more firmly. You tried to keep from wincing at your next words, knowing it was about to hurt like hell. “Okay, now this might sting a bit.”

The bed creaked as he straightened up. “Wait, wait, wait, what are you—”

His words abruptly cut off with a grunt as you poured the alcohol over the wound. “Fuuuck,” he hissed out between clenched teeth, his eyes squeezed shut and his head falling against his chest.

“Sorry. It’s better if you’re not expecting it,” you said apologetically, glancing up at him with a weak half-smile. You set the bottle aside and began unraveling the roll of bandage, determined to work quickly. Who knew how much time you had here to hunker down in safety before one of those things burst through the window?

Jacob’s jaw was tensed, a muscle in it jumping as he let out a long breath, but he nodded, another attempt at nonchalance. “I’m good. Totally good. Barely felt a thing.”

The smile on your lips grew a bit at that as you began wrapping the bandage around his ankle, trying to make sure it was snug but not uncomfortably so. A silence fell in the space between you, and you suddenly became very aware of the strange intimacy of the moment—the fact that you were alone together, touching him so casually, the only light in the dim cabin the moonlight slanting across the floorboards.

You were sure he was watching you, and for some reason you were very determined not to look up as you finished wrapping him up, leaning in to tear the end of the roll off with your teeth. “There, I think you’re fine,” you said, glad to fill the silence. “It’s probably not the best, but…”

“Thanks,” he said quietly, and it sounded so sincere that your heart squeezed in your chest. He groaned as he looked down at his leg. “God, I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

“Just be glad it was your foot and not that handsome face of yours. How would you get all the girls?” you grinned, attempting to lighten the mood as you tied the bandage off tightly. Your slightly shaky fingers made it a bit difficult, but you managed.

You heard him breathe a laugh, but it sounded half-hearted, and when you glanced up at him, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Right.”

His eyes lingered on you for a few seconds, an expression in them you couldn’t quite place, and you cleared your throat, brushing off your scuffed jeans as you stood. The feeling in your stomach was one you were familiar with—a twisting, fluttering sensation that only happened when Jacob looked at you a certain way. One that you were used to shoving down, where it couldn’t be examined too closely.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you walked over to the window, hesitantly scanning what was visible of the grounds and the trees of the forest beyond. There was no movement; it was quiet, almost peaceful. In a way, it only made you more anxious. “I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay in here,” you said, worrying your lip between your teeth. Your mind was racing with what your next move should be. “Maybe we should try to go find Nick and Abi, make sure they’re okay. Do you think they’d be at the lodge?”

A fresh wave of worry washed over you as you thought about your other friends and the fact that you didn’t know where they were right now, if they were safe. Would all of you make it out okay after all of this?

“I don’t—yeah, the lodge. Good idea,” Jacob said from behind you. After a moment you heard him let out a sigh, and you turned back to him. He looked distraught, his faraway gaze focused on the floor in front of him. He didn’t seem to notice you staring at him as he ran a hand through his hair, the movement a bit agitated. “God, I can’t believe…” he trailed off, and he gave a small shake of his head. “This is all my fault.”

The words were muttered, as if meant more for himself than for you. You frowned in confusion, studying his face. You’d never seen him look so serious. “What? What do you mean, your fault?”

“All of this. It’s only happening because… because of me.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, seeming to contemplate something, and finally looked up at you. “I messed with the van.”

It took several seconds for you to process what he’d said, the implications dawning on you much slower than they should have. “Jacob…” you started, but you didn’t know what to say. It felt like your thoughts were wading through sludge.

“I messed with the van,” he repeated, the words rushing out of him. “That’s why it won’t start. It was stupid, and I didn’t know all of this shit would happen, but it did, and if anything happens to you, or—or anyone, I…”

Your mouth opened, closed. You stared at him in shock for a long moment, taking in his pleading expression as the previous events of the evening replayed in your head. Of course. It hadn’t made sense that the van had just stopped working all of a sudden.

You rubbed a hand over your eyes, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling out of your chest at the sheer absurdity of your current situation. What even was this night? You’d think you were dreaming, if you hadn’t known any better. “What the fuck, Jacob? Why?”

“I just needed—” he let out a breath, looking away from you. “I just needed more time. We’ll be going off to college after this, and it won’t be the same, y'know? I didn’t get a chance to tell you—” he cut himself off, looking frustrated with himself.

You stared at him, your arms dropping to your sides. What was he trying to say? “A chance to tell me what?” you asked uncertainly, swallowing against your dry throat. His eyes met yours for a few beats, and you felt like you could see the unspoken words in them, understood all at once.

To say you hadn’t considered anything more than friendship with Jacob would be an outright lie, and an unconvincing one, at that. Of course you had—you’d formed quite a bond since the very first week of summer, had grown fond of his dumb jokes and the way he teased you constantly, which quickly became a comfortable back-and-forth between you that came so naturally you hadn’t remembered it being any other way.

And he was attractive, of course. No one could deny that.

“I don’t…” Your voice was faint even to your own ears, barely a murmur. It was all you could muster.

“That I like you,” he said simply, as if he couldn’t hold the words back any longer. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

You still hadn’t regained the ability to speak; your gaze flitted about the room as if searching for what to say before landing back on him, on his brown eyes, watching you with a softness and a hint of sadness that made your heart twist in your chest.

You opened your mouth to speak, not particularly knowing what would come out, but he raised a hand to stop you, seeing the expression on your face. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Another silence fell after that, one in which your mind was reeling with the new reality that you had just been hit over the head with. Jacob, having feelings for you? For how long? And why hadn’t he told you earlier, at any other time prior to being in a life-or-death scenario like this one? After a few minutes—or maybe ten, you didn’t know—you pushed off the wall and slowly ambled over to sit beside him on the bed, where he was staring down at the injured leg you had just bandaged up.

“Ah, fuck—it wasn’t supposed to go like this,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair again. Your eyes swept over his face, lingering on the line of his strong jaw, on his soft-looking hair. “It was gonna be at the lake, or—or the campfire, y'know, once we were alone. And I would’ve had some liquid courage in me, so I didn’t sound like as much of a nervous idiot, and it would’ve just been chill—”

“Jacob—”

“—but then all this fucked up shit happened, and we all might be dead after tonight because of some dumbass romantic-comedy fantasy I had in my head—"

“It’s not your—”

“—like everything was just going to work out perfectly. Like one more night was going to change anything—”

“—Jacob. Look at me.”

The firmness in your tone made him snap out of his rambling, and when he finally turned to look at you, you didn’t allow yourself time to think twice. You took his face in your hands and kissed him.

That shut him up.

He went rigid for just a moment, but then you felt him melt into the kiss, leaning into you as his big hand came to rest on your thigh. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, nor an urgent one; it was deep, purposeful, as if a culmination of all the brief looks, small touches, and hidden thoughts that had passed between you. He kissed you as if it was just another summer night, as if you had all the time in the world in this cabin, and a warmth you hadn’t felt before spread through you as you marveled at how soft his lips felt against your own.

You broke the kiss, drawing back for breath, and you saw his gaze rove your face before falling back to your parted lips. “Wow,” he breathed after a long pause, for once looking as though he was at a loss for words.

“You didn’t have to wait all summer to do that,” you said, smiling softly, “just so you know.” You realized then that you were still holding his face, and slowly leaned away, letting your hands fall back into your lap.

“Huh.” He managed to tear his eyes away from your mouth to meet your stare, but when you bit your bottom lip, a habit of yours, you saw them flick back down once or twice. His hand hadn’t moved from your leg, and you were glad; it was warm and steadying. “Well, now I feel twice as stupid.”

You breathed a laugh, but shook your head slightly, looking at him earnestly. “Listen. None of this is your fault.”

He let out a breath, barely a sigh. “If I hadn’t—”

“—you didn’t know this would happen. You couldn’t have known,” you told him firmly. You rested your hand over his on your thigh, a spark of electricity shooting up your arm at the simple touch. “Any one of us could have made the same mistake.”

“I just… I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and though you didn’t want the apology, you nodded, knowing he felt like he needed to say it. You could see the pain in his eyes, the self-blame, and it made something ache inside you.

“We’re going to be fine,” you said, your grip on his hand tightening. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself of it just as much as him. “We’re all going to be fine.” You offered him a tiny, encouraging grin, needing things to not feel so serious right now. When he returned it, the corner of his lips quirking up in the ghost of his usual wide grin, you told yourself that it was just the beginning of… whatever this was. You weren’t going to think about the future right now, about everything that came after. For the moment, you were just glad to do this alongside him.

After all, once all of this was over, you’d have nothing but time.

#jacob custos x f!reader #jacob custos x fem!reader #jacob custos the quarry #jacob custos #jacob custos x reader #the quarry x reader #the quarry #the quarry fic #jacob custos fic

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apollodeath · 1 year ago

Note

just read that 'playing prey' fic u did with konig I LOVE IT!!!!!

i was wondering if you can do an angsty one where reader gets really hurt and keeps trying but when konig finds them he lets them win cause there hurt :) thxxx

I LOVE THIS IDEA! I hope I wrote something you asked for 🫶🏻 it’s kinda long my bad.

18+ MDNI

It had been a few weeks after the last time you two had played. König was finishing up dishes from lunch and you sat on the back porch on your phone just scrolling.

The weather was finally cooling off and the breeze was nice enough to wear your favorite hoodie it was König’s and since you were outside you had brought comfortable shoes out with you.

König grabbed the glass door sliding it to the side stepping out with you, he took a deep breath of the fresh air and began to stretch his arms then moving to his legs.

"Stiff?" You asked with a little laugh. König grinned and looked at you.

"Something like that" he teased making you tilt your head.

"What do you mean?" You place your phone on the table next to you giving him full attention. He shrugs and continues stretching his back then touching his toes.

You admired him slightly flexing with each stretch but a buzz from your phone made you look away.

König stepped closer to you and kissed your head and put his phone right next to yours.

His timer was counting down from 5 minutes. The simple ticking of seconds made you feel so slow to start, jumping up and running off the porch, across your backyard, straight back into the woods behind your house. Your mind raced and so did your heart.

'How did I forget I agreed to this!' You thought. Panting already from fear less from running. You actually started to build stamina from these little games and also your memory of trees and paths were in bedded in your mind.

König watched you get farther and farther as he continues his running stretches. He reached in his pocket pulling out his mask placing it over his head and breathed in the smell of the fabric; it stilled smelled of dirt despite you washing it for him. He believes it might be just his mind tricking him to smell missions and gun smoke. Especially cause you said it smelt brand new.

His phone went off. Timers up. He started a light jog across the backyard into the woods.

You were down a couple paths and saw a good place to rest for a second ‘5 minutes are up... I think' you thought.

'So if I go a little farther.. the turn is on the right.’ You thought more of your next move. You got up and looked around before running towards your next marker.

König followed your tracks expertly, basically tracking you like a dog. His eyes ran over the dirt/mud paths as he runs but stopping to look around once he hears things go bump in the woods.

Once you got to the little hill that König's never found you at; you squat behind multiple bushes they're big enough to cover you well. You take this moment to look down and realize you're wearing your comfy house shoes.

"Oh, great" you whisper to yourself dusting them off or trying to. You realised the cold air made your lungs burn more, right then you hear something and freeze, listening closer.

‘there's no way he's this close.’ You thought.

You slowly peak your head out looking at the path you came from, or, of what you can see of it. He's there... but he's looking around and he's kinds far off from where you're hiding. You think you can out run him. Maybe.

You slowly move past the bushes going the opposite way. You keep your eyes on him until you can't and you're slowly crouch walking farther keeping out of site. Or so you think.

When you get past a few trees you feel confident enough to stand up and start running. You start but look back once more, just to check. He's staring right at you. You freak and start to push yourself harder, running off the path. Hoping the trees will make great cover.

Once König's eyes land on you you stick out in the fall colored wood. He smirks under his hood. Watching you run faster makes him take a few steps before beginning to run himself. He feels like an animal as his body reacts to seeing you, it's like his mouth is watering and his cock is starting to ache for touch. There's only been one other time König has ever caught you so fast and had his way with you. That time comes into his rancid mind:

He caught you in the middle of a path and wrestled you to the ground it wasn't hard. Once he had you on the ground in the open, no trees, no brushes to hide his heinous act. He had you on your belly as he striped you and took you repeatedly, he secretly hoped you two were being watched. The rush of someone witnessing him devour you made him cum over and over again. After that you had scuffed knees and he apologized but you admitted to him it turned you on seeing them after he left on deployment.

You were running for awhile in the deep thick woods but the sun was already low and it was a bit hard to see you came up on a path and realized you were actually close to your home.

You saw a smaller fallen tree and decided to hop over it but in doing so the other side had fallen branches which made you trip and fall. You catch yourself with your hands but you feel shooting pain in your ankle and wrap your hand around it to try and calm the pain.

“Fuck” you whispered to yourself. Looking around and you saw nothing but woods and the path a little up ahead so you scooted to behind a bush and a tree hiding as best as you could.

König watched from a distance as you fell. He was going to cut you off on your path home but once he saw you fall he paused and squatted quickly to be out of sight when you looked around.

You take a few seconds to calm your breath and check your ankle, it’s bruised and a bit scuffed but not too bad. You think for a minute ‘is it dumb for me to continue playing?’ You looking around and think ‘I could just hide really well until sunset’

The woods were already getting darker by the moment so you knew sunset was close. You slowly get up using the tree as a crutch and limp a little to a short pine tree then laying under its thick, low hanging branches. You curl up putting your hood on and your hands in the pockets of your König’s hoodie.

König slows his heart rate and breathing watching you hide. He’s more worried that you may be very hurt. He slowly walks closer and takes a prone position on the ground near you; enough to see you but you won’t see him.

You finally see the sunset and you can’t help but smile at the fact you’ve won. You crawl out from your hiding and start limping to the path that leads to your house. Your ankle is actually feeling a bit better you think.

König slowly approaches you he knows you’ve won the game but he still has to scare you at least once more.

He runs up making noise and swooping you up holding you like a child. You scream and start laughing as soon as you know it’s him.

“I win! You can’t do that!” You laugh and hold on to him as he carries you home.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Maus. Not until I check out your limp” he states seriously but also he can’t help but smile from your infectious laugh.

“Oh I fell…” you say with point to your bruised ankle.

“Oh I know.” König nods.

“You know?”

This is my first ever request and I’m so happy about it! ALSO THANK YOU ALL FOR 1K on “Playing Prey”

#konig #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig mwii #konig smut #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig x you #könig x reader #könig modern warfare

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bimobuddy · 3 months ago

Text

I Wish-

FOP: A New Wish tk fic (SFW)

I decided to change the whole 'Wish Fart' concept into something else. Instead of creating a "Wish Fart" when a Wish isn't made right away, the fairy instead just feels like a buzzing, tingling sensation.

Also this happens after the finale, so spoilers ahead (I just obviously changed some things)

Lee!Peri, and technically Ler!Dev

brief mention of nightmares, but it's nothing too bad imo

It's pretty short, I didn't know how to stretch it out longer

Summary: Dev is trying to wish for something but can't quite get it right, resulting in him finding out Peri is ticklish. And being the little shit he is, he takes this and runs with it.

It had been a long morning for sure. A long night as well, since Dev couldn't stay sleep, but Peri wanted to keep him company so he didn't sleep much either, mostly just taking naps at the foot of his bed in the form of a cat.

Occasionally the boy would startle awake from yet another nightmare, then grow frustrated at the fact that he couldn't seem to stay asleep. Even more frustrated that his nightmares didn't make sense, and weren't even that scary to him while awake.

Eventually it got to a point where Peri just stood from his cat-nap and walked closer to his godchild and curled up next to him. This finally seemed to calm the kid down enough to actually stay asleep this time, and in turn, Peri got to sleep the rest of the night as well.

Though now, they both were awake for the day, and both of them still tired. It was a Saturday luckily, so Dev didn't have school, but Hazel had invited him to go see a movie with her later that day, so he was trying to wish together an outfit.

The only problem was that he knew what vibe he wanted, but anytime he wished for it, the outfit wasn't entirely what he wanted.

"This is cool, but it's not.. awesome. Can we try again?" He asked, glancing up at his godparent.

Peri sighed. This was like the tenth outfit change in a row. "How about instead of wishing for a 'general vibe' as you call it, you just tell me what you want? Like a specific color, style, heck, I'll even take types of fabric at this point." He got his wand ready, already glowing, waiting for the wish.

Dev groaned. "It would be easier to think if I wasn't so tired still... Okay, um.. I wish for- uh.. Wait no, hold on." He slid his sunglasses to the top of his head to think, eyeing his outfit yet again in the mirror.

The godfather's wand went out and he shivered a little. He hated when Dev changed his mind last second. If a wish got started but was left unfinished, the magic would still course though the fairy for a moment. And magic was hyper. It buzzed beneath the skin and tingled, and depending on the fairy, it tickled.

"Okay okay," the boy said, seemingly excited now, "I wish for a totally- wait no that's just another vibe. Ugh why is this so hard?"

Again, Peri's wand had lit up and fizzled out, leaving him to crack an involuntary smile at the buzzing it left behind. "J-Just make the wish." He pleaded.

Dev turned to look up at him and noticed the slight discomfort he seemed to be displaying. A jolt of fear stabbed through him. "What's- This isn't that 'Magical Backup' thing again is it!?"

Almost immediately, Peri put up a hand to stop him. "No no, it's not that, I'm okay." he reassured, feeling bad for the kid. Not only had he had it rough from his own father, but he had almost witnessed his godparent.... yeah. He definitely understood why that would have freaked him out since he didn't know what it actually was.

"It's not Magical Backup, kid, I promise. It's this other thing-" He sighed. He didn't know how to explain this to a human that couldn't experience it himself. "So when wishes get started, but are left unfinished, fairies feel this sort of... well it's like.. tickling, from the left over magic that didn't get to grant anything.. If that makes sense? It's harmless, Dev, I promise."

He looked back at his godchild to see if he understood, but instead he just saw that look on Dev's face. The look of a little menace about to be a little menace.

"Devin, don't you dare-" He started, but it was useless. He knew his boy too well.

"I wish for a....." Dev started, but let it trail off, grinning as he watched his fairy twitch and cover his mouth, stifling chuckles, glaring down at him. "Hmm.. Actually nevermind, I wish.... Nope, hold on. Okay, I got it, I wish-"

Peri was curled up mid-air, his arms folded over his tummy that couldn't seem to stop tingling. Unused magic just continued to zip and buzz and bounce around inside him the more his demon of a child kept messing with it. "Dehehev! Cuhut it ohout!"

"Cut what out, I'm not doing anything to you." He grinned. When he saw Peri start to fly toward him, he crossed his arms, cocky as ever. "I wish.." he watched the fairy dropped to the ground, reduced to laughter once more. "Hmmm, nevermind, I lost it again. Whoops."

"Dehev I swehear to the stahars you ahare nohot gehetting anymore wi- hehehe! Wihishes after thihis!" Peri giggled out. The tickling wasn't unbearable, but man it made it hard to focus.

"Wouldn't that hurt you more than me?" Dev asked, just watching him flail about on the floor, watching his wings flap a million miles a minute, which he found amusing as all heck.

"S-Shuhut up.. brat.." Peri huffed, the magic finally starting to calm down and go away. He let out another big huff and just plopped down on the floor for a moment before he picked up his head to glare at his godson, who just laughed a little at him. "My bad." Dev said, clearly not feeling very bad at all.

The fairy just let his head drop back down. "I'm starting to think 'Dev' is short for 'Devil.'" He muttered, his voice muffled by the floor. Though as that got a genuine laugh from the boy, he smiled a little himself and got up. With a jump, he got himself back in the air, floating.

"Alright Dev," he started, dusting himself off, "Playtime's over, let's get back to work on which outfit you want to wear for the movies tonight with Hazel."

Dev's face blanked for a moment as he looked back in the mirror. "You know what, let's stick with my normal outfit. It's just the movies with a friend, nothing special."

Peri groaned and poofed him back into his usual white jacket. This kid would be the death of him.

#sfw tickling community #tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #fop a new wish tickles #fop tickles #lee!Peri

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

Note

Hello Can you please do spidider verse characters also with a reader with anxiety were the spiders are hanging out with a friend alot and the readers anxiety kinda acts up (idk if thats what you call it.)?

A Quiet Moment In A Sea of Chaos

Spiderverse Characters and how they comfort their partner (Reader) that has an anxiety attack

(Including Eddie/Venom and Spider-Medic!)

A/N: This is all based off of various panic attacks I've suffered through, and different methods I use to help calm myself down from them.

Miguel O'Hara:

• You and Miguel were in the middle of a big company party at Alchemax, full of snobbish jerks who sneered at the dumbest comments and inside jokes.

You stood, holding onto Miguel's thick arm beneath his suit as he put on his best, fakest smile he could manage to plaster on his gorgeously plush lips, his sensitive eyes shielded behind his glasses. Sure he was odd for wearing the dark lenses indoors, but he was rich enough that nobody questioned it. And besides, it really put his whole outfit together.

He exuded physical prowess and success. And usually, just having him near you was enough to make you feel just as confident as he was in these sort of gatherings.

But right now? Right now you were freaking out. You bottled it all up inside, but all you could think about was wanting to shrink down, crawl into Miguel's suit pocket, and hide there for the rest of the night, to escape the stares and snickers of the other snobby party goers that settled into your skin like a horrible mist.

• Miguel took notice, his ear twitching as he heard your heart thud in your chest, so frightened like an animal wanting to escape a cage. He heard your breathing get shallow, weaker.

He excused the two of you from the droll conversation he had been sucked into so he could bring you out onto the balcony, hoping that the cool nighttime summer breeze would help ease your concerns.

He would bring you close, caging your smaller frame against his, crushing you in a tight hug, smothering you in the calming scent of his cologne and the very essence that is him.

Miguel your pet your back softly, whispering sweet things into your ear.

"Mi amor. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. Just breathe." He would say to you.

"Your heart is pounding, sweetheart. I can hear it like a gunshot going off in my ear. I'm going to hold you as long as it takes, okay?"

You would nod, bunching the expensive fabric of his suit in your fingers as he talked you through your waves of anxiety, soothing and kissing away any nervous tears that spilled.

"That's mi vida." He would smile down at you warmly, his glasses automatically tinting so you could see his warm eyes clearly in the lower light out on the balcony.

His full lips quirked up in such a way your heart fluttered in an entirely different manner, the gaze he was giving you so soft and warm that it could break hearts of any caught in it.

It didn't break yours however. All it did was remind you that you were safe in the only shelter you had from the chaotic storm that was your own anxiety; whisking you away to a paradise where your fears could not harm you.

"I'm not going anywhere, love." He would say to you, his voice full of tenderness and love.

"Come on. I'll tell them something came up and we can go home." He would say to you. "If I have to hear one more word from that asshole McLenny, I'm going to hang myself anyways."

When you finally laughed, Miguel grinned.

Pavitr Prabhakar:

• You guys were hanging out in the cafeteria at Spider Society HQ, Hobie regaling you, Pavitr, and Jess with his most recent anarchistic victory over the Osborne of his universe.

You had been picking at the fabric of your suit hard as Hobie talked. You felt their eyes glued to you after a short time, feeling a nasty feeling roiling around in your gut, but you couldn't focus on it. All you could focus on was the floor, so shiny that it reflected the lights and images of your friends and boyfriend with such blinding clarity that it gave you a migraine and made your panic attack rise more violently.

You were so consumed by the feeling gnawing at your gut that you didn't notice when Pavitr told Jess and Hobie that he needed to get you out of there.

Hobie and Jess knew about your anxiety, and Jess, her maternal instincts flaring heavily to life, felt her protective nature surge forward as mama bear ushered Pavitr to get you out of there quicker.

• Pavitr frantically looked for a place to bring you, not stopping until he found an empty office room to sit you down in.

"Hey, hey, lovie." Pavitr cooed at you, kneeling in front of you as he pulled off his mask to meet your gaze.

The lenses of your mask made it difficult for him to see if you were looking at him, so he raised his hands to gently peel yours off your face.

"There's my love." He would smile at you softly upon seeing your face. The face he loved so much.

"Wanna sit in here til everything calms down? I can play a podcast for you on my phone!" He chirps proudly, his eyes sparkling like little gems.

You sniffle and smile, nodding silently in response.

Pavitr would sit lotus style on the floor, pulling you into his lap as he hummed and played the most relevant podcast he could find.

Once it started, he'd place his phone on the floor and rock slowly back and forth, letting you melt into his arms as the voices droned on from the speaker in his phone.

"That's it, lovie. Just breathe for me, huh? Can't have that gorgeous brain of yours pass out on me!"

Peter B Parker:

• You guys were at a party with some other parents. It was a get-together a young couple in your apartment building started for other first-time parents to tots and toddlers.

They decided to hold it at the community center down the street.

The amount of people talking to you in one crowded room, the kids squealing and laughing, toys slamming down, crying, the sounds of the chairs scraping on the floor had your pulse racing like a racehorse.

Peter B would feel it, the hair-raising feeling on the back of his neck as Mayday crashed her stuffed fish into the stuffed bear he had in his hand, babbling and cooing to him as she blew raspberries.

His Spidey senses were tingling hardcore as he picked up on your discomfort, watching how you practically slapped your own face and wiped downwards to ground yourself, to distract yourself from your anxiety as it bubbled up beneath your skin.

But it wasn't enough, there were just too many bodies around you, too many voices, too many noises.

You just.. Couldn't.

• Peter would quickly stand up, cradling Mayday against him as he moved towards you as fast as he could without tripping.

"Hey, honey..." He would say softly to you. "You okay?"

"No. I can't--I can't breathe." You croaked.

Even little Mayday seemed to pick up on your discomfort, as she so innocently held out her stuffed fishy to you, babbling in her baby talk as her big beautiful eyes met yours.

You sniffled and took the toy and held it against you as Peter walked you into the deserted kitchen to get you somewhere calmer. It wasn't much privacy, but it helped put you at ease.

It calmed you enough that you were able to take Mayday in your arms, burying your face in her ever-messy curls, breathing in the lingering scent of the baby shampoo in the bright red strands.

Peter meanwhile, rubbed your back and kissed your temple, Mayday content to snuggle into you and talk in a language only other babies seemed to understand.

Thanks to your lovely husband and darling baby, they were able to bring you out of your little bubble of fear and worry.

Peter looked at you with such a soft and loving gaze you felt your heart swell.

"Hey, that's my favorite human in the whole universe!"

Mayday frowned and stuck her chin out at him, her little lip wobbling in response.

"Okay, okay, one of my favorite humans in the whole universe!" He grinned, giving you both messy kisses on the cheek, rubbing his face into yours as he laughed.

"Why don't we go on home, and watch a nice little movie huh? Just the three of us."

You couldn't help but agree. It sounded like a nice, calm oasis. Perfect.

Hobie Brown:

• You and Hobie were sitting with his band after a successful gig, celebrating in the dressing room of the pub; knocking back some cold brews and eating some cheap takeout. Everyone was laughing and joking, loudly.

Hobie had been watching you out of the corner of his eye, like Peter B, his Spider senses telling him something you weren't voicing as you quietly sat, frosty glass in your hands as you stared into the yellowish, foamy brew.

You were busy tuning the world out, shutting everything down as sweat trickled down your back and all you could hear was the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you; the edges of your vision started to blur as tunnel vision began to set in.

You didn't even notice when Hobie excused himself from the celebrations to gently tug you to your feet, holding your hand firmly in his as he walked you out into the alley behind the pub, the cool evening mist settling on your skin as you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

• Hobie turned you around, bringing you to his chest as he leaned down, his mouth at the shell of your ear.

"Ey, luv. It's alright. Just breathe." He would say.

"I'm here, it's all right. Just breathe slowly, count your breaths, count your heart. Or better yet, count how many times you hear a car honk from some tosspot who don't know what they're doin', eh?"

He smiled when, even in your stupor, a thin laugh snaked out of you.

"That's it, baby. Want more jokes? I got plenty."

"Yes... please. Something to..."

"Ay, ay. Say no more. So, listen to this, right? A pastor and a cop walk into a pub..."

He would continue spitting out horrible joke after joke, even the raunchy ones that made you choke on your own spit. He would keep going until your body was shaking not from your anxiety attack, but your effort to contain your laughter.

When you finally admitted you were ready to go inside again, he smiled happily.

"Kay, luv. Let's continue on with our after-party, huh?"

Eddie/Venom:

• You guys were out at a new club that opened, it took a bit of coaxing on both Eddie and Venom's behalf to get you to leave your apartment and venture out into the night life, but they did it.

However, when they met up with Anne and her boyfriend, you felt the air shift. Being around Eddie's ex just felt so awkward and had your baby hairs standing up as your fingers nervously drummed on your thigh.

Yes, Anne and Eddie were on good terms, but ugh! Why couldn't your brain just shut up for five seconds? Anne didn't hate you, she genuinely enjoyed your company and was happy that Eddie and Venom found someone who could handle them both.

Hell, you'd go so far as to claim Anne probably considered you a friend.

Maybe it was being around her, or the fact your social anxiety couldn't handle the bass of the music, the crowds of dancing and weaving people combined with the loud atmosphere... But you buried your face in your arms as you leaned against the wall, your back to the throng of the crowd.

You could feel eyes on your back, you swore you could hear people talk about you, which only compounded the feelings that settled a heavy weight in your chest as you felt tears start to break free from the dam you tried to erect.

You jumped when you felt a hand slide to the small of your back, and turned to see Eddie, his thick eyebrows curved upwards in concern. You felt his hand slip under your back, and that's when you realized he'd grown claws, his grip was cooler as it touched your sweaty skin.

It was Venom, he was trying to comfort you too. In fact, he could feel something was wrong with you the whole night, straining his alien senses and tuning them to your body from within Eddie. He knew the moment you'd slipped away that something was wrong, and like a bloodhound, he helped Eddie sniff you out in the bustling crowd.

"Babe, you okay? Wanna go home?" Eddie would ask, leaning in to your ear as Venom stroked the skin of your back.

When you silently nodded, feeling a small sob bubble up from you, Eddie whipped out his phone, sending a frantic text to Anne about your condition.

'What are you waiting for? Go home! Seriously! Panic attacks are no joke, Eddie! Shoo!' Anne responded.

Eddie chuckled and shook his head, carefully picking the least crowded places to weave into to get you out of the club faster.

• Once outside, Eddie would sit you down on his bike, rubbing your shoulders in soothing motions as he leaned in, his mouth by your ear, talking you through your panic attack.

"Hey, babe... Do you want Vee to bond with you for a bit? To help even things out? I know you said you don't want to use him like a crutch, but he wants to help. He feels bad for helping talk you into this and not stop it sooner." He whispered.

You consent, and Eddie touches your hand, enough skin contact to let Venom covertly slink onto you, fusing beneath the pores in your skin to flow through your body.

Venom immediately sets himself to work, trying to even out the chemicals your brain was pumping out and filtering them with better ones, slowing your heart and breathing to better levels.

You knew Venom, doing this for you, would probably need to consume more chocolate or... well. Some criminal's brain to help him recover from this endeavor, later.

"Don't worry, little one." Venom's voice would purr inside your head. "It's a task I do gladly. And besides, at least you don't call me a parasite."

You giggle around a sniffle as your crying stops, and Eddie smiles at you.

"Let me guess--Vee is bitching because I call him a parasite, huh?" He snorts.

You nod and he laughs again, rubbing your arms once more. "C'mon babe, let's go. Wanna take the scenic route?"

Your watery smile makes his heart leap, and when you nod, he secures your helmet on you, buckling the chin straps before planting his on his head.

"Hmph. You don't need a helmet when you have me." Venom grunted.

When your arms slip around his waist, he feels the tension leave his body. Having Venom separate from him filled him with a sense of his own anxiety, or maybe his empathy was causing yours to bleed into him.

As the bike started up, you hear Venom's voice in your head again:

"Don't worry, little one. We will always be here for you."

(Bonus:)

Peter A Parker (Spider-Medic):

• It all started when you were in one of the exercise rooms in HQ, working on your forms and techniques as Peter A taught you how to fight like a soldier, like he was taught before he was shipped out to Vietnam, while Miguel practiced nearby, giving you pointers over his shoulder as he beat up the punching bag in front of him.

You weren't sure how it happened, maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through your system, or maybe it was the atmosphere around you, the sound of grunting, of weights dropping to the floor, the paf! Paf! Paf! of Miguel hitting his bag, or the overall stress of the last few missions finally collapsing onto your shoulders; but you fell to your knees, clutching your chest as you feel like your lungs were about to give out on you, a cold sweat beading on your brow.

Miguel could hear it, but he knew it wasn't his place to rush to your aid, instead he allowed Peter to do it. You were far closer and more comfortable with Peter, so you would be more likely to calm down with him instead of Miguel.

He was your boyfriend after all.

Peter had brought you into one of the closets where the spare weights were located, quickly sitting you down on the floor and kneeling in front of you, two of his fingers at the jumping vein in your neck, tracking your pulse.

• Being a veteran who saw hell on the battlefield, Peter was no stranger to panic attacks and anxiety thanks to his PTSD from his time in the trenches as a medic. So when his partner experienced them he came in clutch.

Peter would look at you, lowering his voice as he said soft, sweet things to you.

"Slow your breathing, sweetheart. Can you do that for me? Count down from ten. Then, I want you to count from fifteen to twenty-five. That's it. That's it, honey."

When that didn't work, he would bring you in close, resting his forehead against yours.

"Want me to tell you a story?"

He knew you liked hearing about his time as a medic, about the places he'd been. And he knew that you knew it was therapeutic for him to do it. He knew that you liked helping him.

You would nod, and he would cup his hands around your ears to ease the sounds from the outside world, speaking in a voice only you could hear.

When your heart and breathing finally got down to a level he deemed safe, he would kiss your cheek and whisper, "Come on. Let's get you to medical. You can take a nap in one of the suites to help relax."

"Can you stay with me?"

"Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you alone after this?"

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