#what if she HATED everything God stood for but had to grow something of him to finally end him

[harrowedsoup]

Anyway Wake lives in my mind rent free and the fact that she’s the Mary to Gideon’s Jesus and John’s god is just!! So crazy to think about!! I’m not catholic enough to really appreciate it but I LOVE that about her and I wish I saw more people talk about it.

Wake, who had an incredibly messy relationship with two people at once, being cast as the Virgin Mary? Having God’s child only for them to be killed for the good of mankind?? Yet Wake’s hard refusal of anything related to motherhood because Gideon was never supposed to be anything other than a tool?? OG Gideon/Pyrrha being her own twisted version of Joseph????

[buckyalpine]

Bucky can’t stand you

Smuttay Smuttay. Imagine Bucky finding you to be the most infuriating person he's ever met in his entire life. He used to strongly believe you should never hit a woman. Being a man from the 40's, he believed that with his entire heart and soul because he was one of the few who hated the way some women were treated by their husbands.

That was until he met you.

God, he was ready to beat your ass.

"Didn't you say you'd never hit a woman" Sam snorted while Bucky's jaw ticked, having complained about you for half an hour straight while you went off the plan completely, taking the mission into your own hands.

"That's not a woman, that's the devil spawn" Bucky said incredulously, watching you make your way to the target with a flirty smirk on your face "How and why is she like this"

"Shut up" you hissed through the coms, your hips swaying as you walked away. "

You pissed him off and you made his cock hard.

You ran your mouth to no end and you made him leak.

You had such an attitude and he'd masturbated d to you more times than he could count.

He hated you.

He hated you so much.

"You're gonna screw this mission up if you keep acting like a desperate whore" Bucky growled as you slinked onto the targets lap, effortlessly pocketing the pen drive from his blazer while skimming your hands all over him. The man was none the wiser, groping your ass, the action making Bucky's blood pressure boil.

You whispered something in his ear before hopping off, throwing a wink over your shoulder before disappearing through the exit of the bar and into the getaway car, signaling to Sam and Bucky that you were successful.

He doesn't breathe a word to you until you were all a the safehouse, glaring at you the entire time while pouring himself a drink.

"Try not to kill each other, I'm going to bed" Sam threw his hands up in defeat, seeing as the both of you would never reach a truce. You shrugged, rolling your eyes at the soldier, making your way to your room instead. Bucky down the dark liquid that burned his throat before following you, his brooding figure brushing your back as you entered your room.

"There a problem Barnes?" You sassed, gasping when he gripped your hair and yanked you back, shoving you against the wall. His metal arm wrapped around your throat, squeezing the sides just enough to make your breaths lighter, his pupils dilated to 100.

"You have a real problem, you know that?" He growled lowly making your stomach flip, your pulse racing a the scent of his cologne when he stood so close to you.

"Yeah? And whats that" your attitude faltered as he pressed his chest against yours, his warm breath fanning on your face.

"You. Never. Listen. It's infuriating. So tell me. What should I do" It took everything in him not to push you down onto your knees, forcing your into submission for once. "You're a brat" He hissed, eyes growing wide when he could smell your arousal which you tried to hide, your thighs squeezing together giving you away.

"Fuck this" Bucky tossed you onto the bed, pulling out the switch blade he had in his pocket. Your dress was sliced off before you could blink, your lingerie torn off next.

"Bucky, what-

Before you could say anything else, he gripped your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together, making you pout with a needy whimper. He gave you a satisfied smirk, running the handle of the knife through your folds, gathering your slick before licking it clean off with a groan.

"M'gonna fuck you and you're gonna take it, then you're gonna thank your Sargent for fucking the brat out of you, understand?"

You nodded, yelping when he smacked your cheek, shaking his head.

"Use your words, kitten"

"Yes, Sargent" You whispered, your heart hammering out of your chest as he started to undress himself, his belt buckle hitting the floor. A new wave of arousal pooled between your legs as he stood naked before you, his cock standing tall and proud. He cocked an eye brow at the way you stared at him, practically drooling as he pumped his length a few times.

He crawled onto the bed, shoving your legs apart, flicking his cock through your folds and slamming into you without warning, making you take all of him at once.

You cried out in pleasure, your arms and legs wrapping around him to ground yourself some how, your cunt fluttering and struggling to accommodate for his girth.

"Buck-Sargent-too-s'too thick" You moaned as he drew his hips back and started to pound into you, snarling with pleasure at the feelings of your nails raking down his back. "SARGENT PLEASE"

"Thats right, beg your Sargent to stop baby, cry when I ruin you with my fat cock" He sat back on his heels, throwing your legs over his shoulders to get even deeper angle, your eyes rolling back until they nearly crossed. "Lookit you going all dumb on my cock baby, such a needy little pussy"

You didn't get a chance to respond, squeaking when he manhandled you till your face was pushed against the mattress with your ass in the air. He spanked your ass raw, shoving his cock back in, setting in a brutal pace.

"Always acting so sassy, making my dick so hard with those stupid skimpy outfits of yours. You're a little slut but you're my slut, understand kitten?"

"Y-Yes-yes-yes-so-good don'on god don't stop" You slurred out, as he rammed into your pussy, the headboard denting the wall with each thrust, slamming your hips back against him.

"That's it. Fucking take it, Nast little slut, sitting in any mans lap, now look at you, huh. Look whose cock you're crying over lil mama, tell me whose cock your all soaked for"

"Yours sargent! all for-you" You panted while his sinful fingers moved to rub your clit, his pace growing sloppy, blinding pleasure starting to consume you both.

"OH FUCKKK I'm gonna cum!!" You cried out, wailing into the sheets, the vulgar sounds of skin on skin carrying through the room. Bucky moaned, fucking you harder, his head thrown back feeling your pussy suck him in deeper.

"Cum, cum on my dick, c'mon baby, give it to me, thats it lil mama, milk my cock-shit-i'm cumming!" Bucky let out a guttural moan feeling you squeeze and pulse around his cock, stilling his hips as he throbbed ropes of his spend into you. You both collapsed onto the bed, blindly reaching for each other with out saying another word, letting soft kisses and cuddles throughout the night do the rest of the talking.

-

"Morning Sam-

"You both owe me money for therapy"

"Sam-

"You shut up before I pawn a piece of that arm"

"Sam-

"You went at it like rabbits"

"Sam-

"I think the bed almost broke into my room"

"Sam-

"I'm never calling you Sargent again, you've tainted the word for me"

"Sam-

"My ears have never been so violated"

Bucky smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you together. You giggled while Sam gagged in the background again (he 100% approves of you two together but he'll never tell Bucky that).

"Nasty fucks"

[dearlenore]

Do you write smut? Or if not, lots of fluffy romance. I need a Tim Bradford x reader when Tim is thinking reader is cheating because she keeps staying out late but turns out she's been going to art classes because she wants to learn how to paint him

Hey love! Thanks the the request as always, I don’t write smut at the moment, don’t know if I ever will but I’m obsessed with the fluffy idea you gave me🥹❤️ so I for sure wrote that!!

CAUGHT RED HANDED • T.BRADFORD

SUMMARY: when you begin sneaking around secretly to receive painting lessons to paint your perfect boyfriend, he can’t help but grow suspicious…

PAIRING: fem!reader x tim bradford

tags: reader is a housewife, cheating suspicion, insecure bradford, fluff cutesy stuff

a/n: the grind never ends.

w/c: 1.2K

TIM BRADFORD WASN’T the jealous type. He prided himself on that. Years of being a cop, years of working in high-stakes situations where trust meant everything, had hardened him to unnecessary doubts. But this—this gnawing, irritating feeling in the pit of his stomach—was new. And he hated it.

He sat in his truck outside the café, watching through the windshield as you stood inside, laughing—glowing, really—while talking to someone he didn’t recognize. Some guy. Some guy he’d never seen before, who was clearly making you smile in the way that made his heart ache violently.

For the past few weeks, you’d been different. More secretive. Slipping out of bed early in the morning without a goodbye, Taking phone calls in hushed tones. Canceling date nights last minute with vague excuses. And now, this? Meeting up with someone behind his back? A man?

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, feeling his knuckles go white at the intensity of his grip. He was probably overreacting. You weren’t the type to cheat. You loved him—God, he knew that. You were the sunshine to his storm, the one person who could make even his worst days bearable. He trusted you.

And yet…

He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his jaw before forcing himself to look away. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t some paranoid boyfriend stalking his girlfriend like a jealous idiot. He just needed answers. A conversation. That’s all. For all he knew , that could be your distant cousin!

So that’s what he told himself when you walked through the front door that night, smiling like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t just been somewhere he didn’t know, with someone he didn’t know.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted, dropping your bag by the couch before walking over to press a kiss to his cheek. “How was work?” You smiled warmly.

“Fine,” he said, barely managing to keep his voice steady. His eyes searched your face, looking for something—guilt, hesitation, anything—but all he found was warmth. That same sunshine that had pulled him in from the very start.

You hummed, running your hands up his arms, completely oblivious to the war raging inside him. “You’re tense. Long day?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, gently holding your waist. A beat passed, then—because he couldn’t help himself—he added, “Where were you?”

You blinked up at him, not surprised by maybe taken off guard. “What?”

“Tonight. You had plans.”

“Oh! Yeah, I—” You hesitated, just for a second, before forcing a bright smile. “Just out.” You laughed, shaking your head dismissively.

Just out.

Tim clenched his jaw, nodding slowly. “Right.”

That should’ve been the end of it. He should’ve let it go, let the doubt slip away like every other pointless worry. But instead, all he could hear was the way your voice wavered, just a little. The way you didn’t quite meet his eyes when you said it.

For the first time in his life, Tim Bradford didn’t know if he wanted to know the truth.

And so, for days, the tension had been building between you two. He wasn’t sure if you noticed it—if you felt the way he was pulling back, the way his usual warmth had been replaced with something quieter, something watchful. But how could you not? He wasn’t the type to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. And right now? Right now, nothing felt fine.

So tonight, he decided, was the night. No more wondering. No more doubts eating away at him. He was going to ask you outright.

When he got home, you were already there, curled up on the couch with your sketchbook in your lap. Your face lit up when you saw him, the same way it always did, and it made his chest ache.

“Hey, you’re home early!” you said, setting the sketchbook aside. “I was just about to—”

“Who is he?”

The words were out before he could stop them, blunt and heavy in the air between you.

You blinked, the smile slipping from your face. “What?”

Tim crossed the room, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for the truth. “The guy at the café. The one you’ve been sneaking off to see.”

Your mouth parted slightly, and for the first time in all the years he’d known you, you looked… nervous. Not guilty, but nervous.

“Tim…” you said softly, sitting up straighter. “It’s not what you think.” You bit back a smile, you knew he was stressed but something about the way he looked at you like Kojo when his bowl was taken away was too damn cute.

“Then tell me what it is,” he said, voice low, controlled. “Because for the past few weeks, you’ve been different. You leave early, you take calls in private, you cancel our plans last minute. And then I see you with some guy—” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I trust you, but you’re not giving me much to work with here.”

You swallowed hard, pressing your lips together as you dropped your gaze. Your fingers twisted together in your lap, a telltale sign that you were nervous. And that only made his stomach tighten more.

“Come with me,” you said suddenly, standing up, not trying to hide your smile now.

Tim’s brows furrowed in confusion at your smile, but he followed as you led him down the hall to the spare room—the one you always kept locked. The one he had never questioned until now.

You hesitated for a second before pushing the door open, revealing a room filled with art supplies. Paint tubes scattered across a small desk, canvases stacked against the walls, brushes in jars—everywhere he looked, there were signs of creativity, of hours spent in quiet dedication.

And then, in the center of the room, stood a large canvas, half-covered with a cloth.

You walked over, fingers gripping the edge of the cloth tightly before glancing at him. “I was going to wait until it was finished, but…” You took a deep breath, then pulled the cloth away.

Tim stared.

It was him.

The painting—your painting—was of him. But not just any version of him. This was him as you saw him, not as a cop, not as a hardened, disciplined man, but as yours. The warm glow of sunlight painted across his face, the small crease between his brows that only appeared when he was deep in thought, the way his lips barely quirked at the corners, like he was on the edge of a smile. It was detailed, painfully detailed, and so full of love that it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

“I’ve been taking classes,” you said quietly. “I didn’t want to tell you until I got better, but I—I wanted to learn how to paint you. The way I see you.” You let out a nervous laugh, hugging yourself. “I asked my instructor for help, and that’s who you saw. The guy at the café. Who is very… very homosexual might I add.”

Tim didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His throat was too tight, his chest too full of something he couldn’t name.

You mistook his silence for something else.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you rushed out. “I swear I wasn’t trying to be shady, I just—I wanted it to be a surprise. I didn’t think— I know it’s not the best but it’s … it’s you..? I think—“ you laughed nervously, looking between the painting and him.

Before you could finish, he crossed the space between you in two long strides and pulled you into his arms. You gasped, hands gripping his shirt as he buried his face in your hair, holding you tighter than he had in weeks.

“Tim?” you murmured.

“I’m an idiot,” he muttered, voice rough with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, brows furrowed. “You’re not—”

“I thought—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head at himself. “I thought you were pulling away. I thought I was losing you.”

Your expression softened instantly. “Baby…” You cupped his face, your thumb tracing over his jaw. “I’m so sorry.”

Tim let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to yours. “I should’ve just asked you. I should’ve trusted you.”

You smiled, tilting your head slightly. “Well, technically, you did ask me. Just, y’know, after stalking me to a café and jumping to conclusions.” You teased, faking a hurt expression.

His lips twitched. “I didn’t stalk you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sat in your truck and glared through the window, didn’t you?”

Tim groaned, closing his eyes. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of love, before wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re an adorable idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed, squeezing your waist. “Laugh at grumpy cop, get it out now.” He chuckled. “So… you really spent weeks learning how to paint me?”

You beamed, nodding. “I wanted to capture you like a French girl,” you mused dramatically, holding out your hand to show off nothing in particular.

Despite the over usage of that joke in your relationship , something inside him melted at that. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you, but whatever it was, he wasn’t letting go.

Tim glanced at the painting again, then smirked. “So, when do I get to take it home?”

You gasped, playfully smacking his chest. “Excuse you, it’s not done.”

“Looks done to me.”

“Timothy Bradford, I swear—”

He cut you off with a kiss, one that was filled with every unspoken word, every ounce of love he had for you. And in that moment, with your laughter still lingering in the air and the painting standing as proof of how deeply you saw him, Tim knew one thing for sure:

He had never been so stupidly, hopelessly in love.

[actyl]

cw. they make out.

her face was still flushed from the argument. it wasn’t the first one—god knew it wouldn’t be the last one—but for some reason, this one had just gone too far.

heat roared beneath her skin in a way that made her head pound. sweat clung to her hairline, beads threatening to slide down the back of her neck. she could feel it steaming off her skin as her anger burned hotter, searing through her veins, setting in her bones.

her scowl twisted deeper, muscles pulling taut until her jaw ached and cheeks throbbed from the strain. every breath felt like stroking a first: sharp, shallow, scalding. her chest heaved as she took in breath after breath, but it still wasn’t enough to cool the fury coiled inside her, something nearly suffocating.

“you should go,” her voice was low and tight.

“you’re not serious.” he scoffed, taking a step back in disbelief. “you’re gonna throw me out just ‘cause i proved you were wrong?”

“this isn’t about that.” she shot back, arms crossed in defense, completely guarded.

“it’s about you being completely impossible. always picking a fight, always pushing like you’re trying to pick a fight.”

“well,” his voice was smooth, the smile on his face dangerous. “you just make it so easy—”

“god, you’re so insufferable.”

“i know.” yet his smile, sharp and triumphant, never disappeared. she was used to his cocky demeanor, the teasing that lived permanently on his lips. but his eyes were different—something darker, something warmer—something that made her stomach churn. every hair on her body stood up, like she knew danger was coming.

“you just love to show up like you know everything—like you’re just waiting for me to fail so you can swoop in and prove you’re better.” she snapped.

he chuckled, an exhale more than a sound, stepping closer.

“please,” his voice was sharp. “i don’t need to wait for you to fail, you make that part pretty easy all on your own.”

she clenched her fists at her side, breaths shallow as hos words stung deeper than she’d like to admit. his smirk only added salt to her wounds, the way he stood, so effortlessly self-assured. she was used to this, his arrogance, but she’d never seen him push her buttons so purposefully.

“is that what you think?” her voice trembled with a mix of frustration, irritation, and something she couldn’t quite place.

his head tilted, smirk growing wider as he took a step closer. he could feel the heat radiating off her, her skin just a few inches away from his own. there was something in the way he looked at her, a knowing glint in his eyes that made her blood run hot in ways she’s always hated.

“i don’t think you want me to show you up,” he clarified, voice barely above a whisper. “but we both know you wouldn’t mind if i did.”

her eyes narrowed. “you love to think you’re better than me, don’t you? like you’ve got everything figured out, like you’ve got nothing better to do than look down on me.”

he met her glare, unflinching, the tension between them palpable. for a moment, they just stood there, her words hanging heavy between them before he broke the silence.

“it is pretty amusing seeing you like this. but don’t lie—deep down, you like this. you like the challenge.”

his gaze was intense, she took a step back and he took another step forward, maintaining the distance. “we’ve been at each other’s throats for so long, you’d probably miss it if i wasn’t here.”

her breath caught in her throat, the air felt thick, a knife wouldn’t be enough to cut the tension between the two. heat built up with every word; she wanted to scream at him, but he was right. she would miss it, and some part deep inside her knew she would miss him, as insufferable as he was.

“we’re supposed to hate each other.”

“supposed to.” she was suddenly aware of how close he was, too close. his presence felt overwhelming, and she struggled to maintain her composure even as her pulse quickened. his cologne tickled her nose, clinging to the air—something sharp and clean. it made her head spin.

she wanted to step back, to create some distance, but her feet felt rooted to the floor. the way he looked at her, the maddening intensity of his gaze made the world disappear.

“i don’t think either of us know what we’re supposed to do anymore,” he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a quiet challenge daring her to admit what they both knew.

she swallowed hard, she could hear her heartbeat as her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. she opened her mouth to say something, anything—to push him away, but any words she could muster up caught in her throat.

instead, she stood there, staring at him, her mind a chaotic swirl of what they were, and what they weren’t supposed to be.

she didn’t expect it—didn’t know how it happened—but suddenly, his mouth was on hers, hard and demanding. it was messy and heated and too much; it was all teeth and heat, clashing of frustrated breaths, as if neither of them could hold back any longer. she gasped against him, the intensity of the kiss stealing the air from her lungs, making her knees weak beneath her.

his hands were on her, one on her waist, one threading through her hair, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him. the way he kissed her felt desperate, almost angry—as if he was trying to prove something to her, or perhaps to himself.

it was like fighting and surrender all at once—like neither of them could decide if they were given in or trying to win.

their lips found a steady rhythm, molding into each other. his grip on her waist was firm, fingers digging deep enough to leave her dizzy, like he was grounding her and setting her on fire all at once. her hands fisted in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan into her mouth—a low sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

his hand slid from her waist to her back, she was sure if they pressed against each other any closer they’d become one. it felt as if they couldn’t get enough of each other—like every sharp word, every bitter stare they’d shared had all been building to this.

“i hate you.” she gasped between kisses, breathless and burning.

“i know,” he murmured, “i hate you, too.”

“you’re impossible.”

she could feel his grin against her lips as he kissed her again—deeper, slower kiss, like he knew exactly how much it would unravel her.

“you love it.”

mikey sano, takashi mitsuya, shinichiro sano, KISAKI TETTA, rindou haitani, RAN HAITANI / yuji terushima, TETSURO KUROO, tooru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi, akaashi keiji / EDWARD ELRIC, roy mustang / tomura shigaraki, TOUYA TODOROKI, KEIGO TAKAMI / JASON TODD, tim drake, damian wayne, DICK GRAYSON / shin asakura, YOICHI NAGUMO / EREN YAEGER, jean kirstien, armin arlert

actyl -> do not copy or repost my works

[shelbgrey]

Ok but imagine this:

The allison and mark situation happens, so when derek finds out he tells reader (who is marks gf at the time) and they go to seattle amd fall in love and when allison and mark go there they see them being all in love.

This just spoke to me

Every rose has its thorn

Paring: Derek shepherd x Reader, Ex!Mark Sloan x Reader.

Summary: after Addison cheats on Derek and Mark cheats on the reader, both Derek and her go to Seattle. After they both got drunk and had sex one night the two relized the feeling they have for each other, by the time Mark and Addison come to Seattle Derek and the reader are dating and in love.

MasterList ML2

It sucks when your whole life gets turned upside down. A group of friends being torn apart because of an adulterous act. Derek had come home one night to see his wife Addison Montgomery in bed with his best friend Mark Sloan... Mark Sloan just happened to be the boyfriend of y/n L/n. Both Addison and Mark cheated on Derek and y/n. Ruining their relationships forever.

Y/n felt terrible, her heart ached. She felt like she should have seen it coming, she thought she should have seen the signals. She was mad and heartbroken when I found out Mark cheated on her with Addison. Most of all, she was angry at Addison for cheating on Derek. Derek was y/n’s best friend and seeing him that heartbroken hurt worse.

Derek hated both Addison and Mark. Not only did they ruin his relationship and marriage, but they also hurt y/n as well. Derek was so upset that he decided to leave town. He was tired of the lies from Addison and Mark. He just wanted to move on. He knew he couldn't if he stayed there. That's when he and y/n made the move to Seattle together.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

They both got drunk the first night they were in Seattle. Derek and her went to this small bar that was across the street from the hospital. Y/n never got drunk, she didn't like drinking but that's just how the night went. And too bad it took them being drunk to realize there was something between them.

Once they got drunk Derek started noticing things about her he had never noticed before. He started to see her in a new light. It made him see how beautiful she was. His feelings for her grew the more drunk they got.

“God I hate him” y/n rambled about Mark. “I wish I never fell in love with him”

Derek listened to everything y/n had to say. He hated that she loved a man like Mark. She deserved so much better. Derek couldn't wait to show her how much better he was for her…

“I hate her too” y/n sighed then looked over at Derek, there was just something there she hadn't noticed before. They always had some kinda connection, but always played it off as being best friend

She noticed his smile, his blue eyes. She always considered him a platonic soulmate, but maybe... Just maybe there was something more. Derek looked over at y/n. Her lips looked so soft. Her hair was perfectly curled. She stood out like a diamond, She was beautiful. Derek had never thought he would feel this way towards her. But as the night went on he realized there was something inside of him that was growing for her. He realized that he was falling in love with her. He had never felt this way before for anyone.

They both sat there wondering what would have happened if they chose each other instead of Mark and Addison. Derek always wondered what it would be like if y/n chose him over Mark. If y/n had chosen him, Addison would never have broken his heart. Would they have settled down with each other and had children? Had a family? The thoughts were racing through Derek's mind while he continued to stare at y/n. He wanted to make his move.

“Why are you looking at me like That?” she chuckled drunkenly.

Derek didn't realize that his lustful gaze was showing. He felt his cheeks burn red from embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “because your beautiful”

She blushed and looked away. “your just saying that”

Derek wanted her to know she was beautiful and he wasn't just saying that. He moved closer to her. “no. I mean it. You're so beautiful. I've never told you that before. But I'm gonna tell you now. You're gorgeous…”

She don't know what possessed her, but she placed her hand on his jaw and pressed her lips to his. Derek was absolutely shocked when y/n pressed her lips to his, that she had initiated it first. He pulled away, staring into her eyes. “Mark is stupid for letting something as amazing as you go” Derek whispered, he had been wanting this for so long. Derek immediately placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close to him. He kissed her with all the emotion and longing that had built up inside of him. He wanted her and he was going to get her.

Her lips parted and gently brushed her tongue against his lips, running her fingers through his hair

He kept kissing her deeply as he ran his hands up her torso, towards her neck. Derek couldn't wait to explore every inch of her.

Y/n slowly pulled away, resting her forehead against his as she tried to catch her breath and tried to focus my drunken mind. Now all logic was throwing away, she inched her face closer to his again, nudging her nose against his, hovering her lips over his. She couldn't get enough of the intoxicating scent of his cologne. Her eyes were fixed downward,watching his hands roam the outline of her body.

Derek's hands wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer to him. They were both losing reason and logic. They were caught up in the moment. Derek felt their warmth building between them and it was turning him on, He wanted more. His hands wandered up her back now and they slowly ran through her hair. The smell of lavender wafted up to his nose and he was lost in her.

Before things could get too far, y/n pressed her hands to his chest, stopping him. “you wanna get out of here?”

Derek quickly nodded. “yeah, let's get out of here”

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

As soon as they got back to the trailer, her lips were back on his, the kiss was messy and rushed. Y/n quickly pushed his jacket off his shoulders as he pushed her backwards towards the kitchen counter. She moaned against his lips, running her fingers through his hair. Getting them lost in his soft, perfect hair.

Derek was absolutely stunned by her boldness. This was the moment he had been longing for all this time. He was ecstatic that she was finally showing him this side of her. He threw his coat to the side with the rest of their stuff and began to kiss her with more passion. His hands roamed from her back down her body, giving her ass a squeeze. He was feeling her up the way he had wanted to since the moment he met her.

He couldn't help but want more. His hands squeezed her butt and his lips kept on exploring hers while he moved her back towards the bed. His body was pushed against hers and he leaned her back. There was no going back now. Y/n fell backwards on his bed, pulling him down with her. She moaned softly, tugging on his hair as his lips and the scruff on his jaw brushed against her neck.

Derek loved her reaction, the moans she let out were sending shivers down his spine. Her touch felt so good on him. Derek could feel her body pressing against his. He was enjoying her just as much as she was enjoying him. He wanted to kiss every inch of her. He finally had the chance to make her his and he wasn't going to let her slip away from him.

“D-derek” she moaned softly.

Derek loved how his name coming from her mouth sounded. Hearing her breathless voice gave him everything he needed to continue on with her. His hands ran up and down her body and his lips traveled across her neck and down to her shoulders. His mouth was finally exploring her body in ways that he had wished he could do for so long. His scruff was rough on her soft skin. His lips were gentle and tender. His touch was so hot and passionate. He loved the way she tasted and smelled, every inch of her was perfect to him.

They were running on nothing but alcohol, bottled up feelings, and passion. Their clothes were gone in seconds and they fell into each other's temptations.

--------(1st pov)--------

The next morning I woke up with a hangover, my head was pounding. I looked around and noticed I was in Derek's bed and not my own. I peaked under the covers and we were both naked. Derek was still asleep, I slowly sat up and grabbed his red shirt from last night and covered my bare chest with it. I sat there processing the whole night, I didn't feel regret or anything, but when something feels so good, how can it not be bad. “Derek, wake up” I said, nudging his naked shoulder.

Derek's eyes slowly opened and he sat up from the bed, stretching and yawning. He turned his head in my direction and he froze when he noticed his shirt covering my chest. His eyes grew wide, but there was a smirk on his face.

“So... Umm…” I looked down shyly. “we umm... Last night, didn't we?” I asked softly.

Derek laid on his back, smirking to himself. “yeah… Yeah we did”

I moved my messy hair out of my face. “we're no better than them,” I mumbled, thinking about Addison and Mark. They slept together, they were in the wrong, but what about us?.

Even if I was right or wrong, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief from last night. The bond we formed last night was undeniable. I had wanted him for so long and we finally had our chance. Mark and Addison may have won the battle, but there was this feeling that we were gonna win the war.

I fell backwards in the bed, laying on my back next to him. I rubbed my face processing everything. I didn't regret it one bit, but I wished it happened at a different time. “God... I just had sex with a married man” I mumbled, covering my face.

He rolled over on his side, facing me. He kissed my shoulder with a smirk on his face. “Separated... I'm not with Addison anymore” he kissed my cheek then looked at me with those pretty blue eyes. “and I gotta say... That was the best sex I ever had…”

I uncovered my face and turned my head towards him, smiling. “Dito”

Derek smiled. “Do you... umm... regret what we did last night?”

“No... Do you?” I asked softly.

Derek shook his head in a no. “I wanted to do that for so long.” he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine for a soft loving kiss.

Derek pulled me close, kissing me deeply with no regrets between us. My heart fluttered as he kissed me passionately. This feeling was so new to me, but definitely wanted. His hands grabbed my hips and pulled me against his chest. The scruff on his jaw hitting my chin and cheeks. I smirked against his lips and placed my hand on his jaw, feeling the scruff that peppered his jaw. I pulled away from the kiss and rested my forehead against his, I rubbed my thumb over his cheek gently. “like this...” I mumbled, referring to his scruff. When he was with Addison he was always clean shaved. She liked it that way, I didn't matter if he wanted to let it grow.

“You like it?” his eyebrow raised with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah... It's sexy”

When he was with Addison he definitely shaved daily. But he was trying keep his scruff now. He liked the way he looked with a little bit of scruff now. He kissed my cheek slowly. “I'll keep it for you then” he smirked again.

I smiled, pulling him down for another kiss and slowly ran my fingers through his hair. I pulled away from the kiss gently. “we need to get ready for work...”

“yeah... First day” Derek chuckled and kissed my nose before climed out of bed.

~~~~~~~~(few months later)~~~~~~~~

I had to admit Seattle was just a better place to be than new York. No one knew us except Richard Webber, he still didn't know about our relationship and that was okay. As the months went by it was made clear that our firsr night here ment everything. We just fit too well together, even if that sounded cheesy. Being beat friends in the past nothing much changed except we were now kissing, cuddling, and having quickies in the shower.

Mark had tried to call me numerous of times, I hadn't awnsered once. I wasn't ready to talk to him, but I think I was ready to forgive him. I had moved on and was happy with Derek, so there was no reason to hate him. Addison is a different story. I couldn't believe it when she showed up in Seattle.

“Addison... what are you doing here?” Derek asked.

I couldn’t even looked Addison in the eyes. I kept my head down and my anger bottled up.

“you would have know if you had botherd to return any one of my phone calls” Addison turned to me. “or awnsered the phone when Mark calls”

“I have nothing to say to him” I said bitterly.

“of course not, your too busy screwing my husband” Addison shot back.

“that's rich” I snapped back. “you were too busy screwing my boyfriend”

Derek grabed my arm, rubbing it affectionately. He stared at Addison with betrayal and anger. “is there something you need? What are you doing here?”

Addison had a smug look on her face as she looked Derek up and down. I couldn't help but feel territorial, but at the same time insucre. I always thought Addison was prettier than me.

“your hair is different” Addison said, dodging the subject. She went to reach for his hair, but I pushed her hand away. Derek smirked slightly, but it disappeared and he turned back to Addison. “a lot of things are different”

“it's longer” Addison continued. “what's your problem?” I asked annoyed.

“what are you doing here?” Derek asked again.

“Relax, guys, I'm here for work. I'm helming the T.T.T.S. case you guys admitted last week. And after Richard's briefing...” Addison said, rolling her eyes.

“bullshit” I said. I didn't believe a word that came out of this woman's mouth. “I swear to God, if you brought Mark with you...”

“it's cute...” Addison started sarcastically. “That whole wide-eyed "ooh, he's a brain surgeon" act you have going on... It's sweet. Which is what you were going for, right? The anti-Addison”

I shook my head, staring daggers into her. She smirked like she had the upper hand now. I didn't know it was possible to love and hate someone so much. Addison was always like an older sister to me, I looked up to her and wanted to be like her. Not now she betrayed me... But in a sences I betrayed her too.

“let's go” Derek said in a hard tone and grabed my hand. I looked into Addison's eyes and showed her nothing but hurt as Derek pulled me away.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

“why is she back!?” I yelled at Derek.

“I don't know! Why are you yelling at me?” Derek snapped back as he paced back and forth in his trailer. I don't know why we were taking this out on each other, it hurt we resorted to this.

“I don't know!” I sighed and sat down on his bed, rubbing my face in frustration. I think we weren't yelling at each other, just yelling in general. We were both frustrated.

Derek sighed and gave me a gental expression. “you know her coming here means nothing, right?”

I looked up at him, I trusted him but I just had to ask. “nothing between us changes?”

His blue eyes stared into my soul. I loved his eyes, I could just drown in them. “nothing changes... Hell, I'll devorce her”

He held his hand out to me and I took it. “I promise” he said softly and knelt infront me where I was setting so we were eye level. “we're not gonna lose each other... Not again”

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Then Mark came back...

Unlike when Addison showed up, I was just hurt to see him. I hadn't thought about him since me and derek started dating, but when I saw his face all that hurt and betrayal came rushing back.

The first time he visited Seattle he was on the ground and thanks to Derek I was the one that had to stich him him up. Richard sent me and Mark to the ER and Richard was chewing Derek out for the punch. That's when Richard found out about Addison and Mark's affair.

“you look amazing” Mark said as I got out the supplies to stich up his cheek. I ignored him as I tried to keep my anger and disappointment bottled up.

I cleared my throat and placed a towel on his shoulder and tried to get a decent angle to stich his cheek.

“here” Mark mumbled and to my dismay he pulled me in between by my hips so I could be closer. “thats better” he smirked.

I sighed and dropped the tweezers. “you think your funny?”

“I think I'm adorable” he smirked. I rolled my eyes and stiched up the gash. I sighed using the technique mark taught me long ago.

“I missed you... I really do” he said as I placed a bandaged on. I tried to stay silent but Mark wasn't having it. “will you please say something?”

I slammed the tweezers on the tray with a loud clink then turned towrds Mark. “What do you want me to say? I don't want you here and and sure as hell don't want Addison here”

Mark looked down staying silent. “I'm sorry”

I rolled my eyes tired of his sorrys. I did miss him and hell I unfortunately still cared for him, but every time I looked at him all I can think of is him in bed with Addison.

I gulped and looked at him as I felt the tears form. “I'll see ya around Mark”

“bye...” he said barly above a whisper.

--------(3rd pov)--------

Mark and Addison from a far, confused on what they were seeing. They just couldn't understand how fast y/n and derek fell for each other. Addison scolded herself for not seeing the signs earlier, but when she looks back she could see the way Derek looked at y/n.

“Derek never looked at me the way he looks at here” Addison said in a monotone voice.

Mark crossed his arms, staring at the new couple. He feeling so many different things it confused him. He wanted to fix his friendship with Derek, but everytime he saw his arm around y/n he just wanted to break it. Then on the other hand his heart broke seeing y/n smile and derek and not him, but he loved her enough to feel some sorta relief he didn't totally break her and she was happy.

“y/n looked at me like that... Every day we we're together” Mark said. “and I screwed it up big time”

Addison glanced at him, part of her felt fear Mark regreted being with her. It ment she lost two men she loved. She felt selfish for feeling like that, not only did she lose a husband she lost her closest female friend. This whole situation was a mess and she knew it.

Mark glanced at her, his blue eyes showing nothing but pain. “if I could turn back time I would in a heart beat”

Mark still loved her, but he loved her enough to let her go. At least he knew he could trust Derek not to hurt her. “let go of your pride addie, if you think Derek will leave n/n your crazy”

Addison raised an eyebrow at him, like she thought he was some kinda hypocrite. “well, y/n isn't leaving Derek for you”

“yeah... And I just need to learn to deal with that” Mark sighed, giving y/n and derek one last glance before leaving.

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

I keep going over the world we knew (p.2)

a player 230/ Thanos/ Su-Bong x fem!reader fic

summary: “It had always been him and her against the world. But if you've been fighting against the world for years, how do you react when you suddenly realize that your best friend has become your world?”

warnings: none really except the usual Thanos/Squid Game stuff. Maybe slightly ooc Thanos? , Written in my notes app.

note: not gonna lie, I originally planned for this to only have 2 parts BUT I decided taking my time with it and all that gives it a nice pace.

Hope you enjoy!!!

🏷️: @l5byrinth , @wpdarlingpan , @lollipopsandstuff

Part 1 , Part 3

The night after the second game was far too quiet for Thanos to ignore the gnawing feeling that had settled in his chest ever since coming back to the dorm. He had survived the games with a cold mix of calculated precision and blasting his brain to the moon with drugs. But neither the success , nor the growing amount of money in the ever present piggy bank was enough to drown out the nagging ache in his ribs when he thought of [Y/N].

His [Y/N].

The way she moved with a sense of confidence and purpose that was simply too authentic to be fake. The way she had shut him out so quickly, eyes never seeming to truly look at him. Gods did he long for that familiar gaze to land on him. To rediscover that warmth he had once found in it. By now it had been years since Thanos had last spoken to her—since he’d ruined everything. But the memories, the raw, untouched feelings, were still there. Unforgiven. Unwavering. Never truly gone.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t keep pretending that this wasn’t affecting him. Not even with several of his colourful pills pumping through his system.

Thanos’ eyes drifted across the darkened room, only stopping when he had found [Y/N]’s form a few beds down from his. She was sitting there, still as stone, eyes staring straight ahead with that same unreadable expression she had been wearing ever since the first game. Not a single word had passed between them since their brief interaction during the last game. But ,despite how it might seem, Thanos wasn’t stupid. He could feel the tension in the air whenever their paths crossed.

He wasn’t used to feeling this way. Especially not when his survival instincts kicked in so loudly, demanding every ounce of his energy to focus on the prize. “Win the money , pay off your debt.” had become the silent mantra in his brain. But that was the thing with [Y/N], she had always been able to pull at the strings of something deep inside him, something far more complicated than any strategy or skill. Something deeply ,deeply personal.

“Hey do you think I could-“ Nam-Guy -or whatever his name was- popped into Thanos’ field of vision. With an annoyed sigh, the purple haired player stood up. “Not now.” He muttered, putting both of his hands on the boy’s shoulders, turning him to the bed next to his. “Talk to him instead.” Baffled Nam-Gyu looked over his shoulder, surprise in his voice as he exclaimed a “What-“. But Thanos was already halfway across the room, shoes making quiet thuds against the floor as he made his way over to [Y/N]’s cot.

“You know,” Thanos came to a halt on one of the lower steps that rested between the beds, resting his arms on [Y/N]’s mattress as he propped up his head. Thanos’ voice was calm. Almost too calm to [Y/N]’s ears, judging by the gravity of the situation they had found themselves in. “Staring at the wall isn't going to change anything."

Thanos leaned against the bed frame, his usual cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched [Y/N]. She was sitting still as a stone with an expression colder than ice. Not once had she bothered to look at him since he had approached her bed, and that infuriated him.

“Are you really gonna sit there like you don’t know who I am?” he drawled, his voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “You know, I’m starting to feel like a ghost. And I’m not really the type to fade into the background, you know?”

[Y/N] fought the urge to roll her eyes, choosing to ignore the purple haired pain-in-the-ass who she had once called her best friend.

“Well, if it helps, I can try and get a little more dramatic,” Thanos said, pushing himself off the bedframe in order to lean in closer, reducing the distance between them. “Maybe I’ll do a little tap dance or something. You seem like you’d appreciate the effort.”

At that [Y/N] finally glanced at him, but only for a brief moment, before turning her gaze back to the wall. "You’re a real piece of work, Su-Bong," she muttered under her breath, but still loud enough for him to catch the venom in her words. He chuckled.

“Yeah, I know. I’m one of a kind.” His voice was playful, but there was an edge to it, a challenge in his tone. “And I’m starting to think you don’t even remember who I am anymore.” [Y/N] shot him a glance, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh, I remember exactly who you are, Su-Bong. And that's the problem."

The words hit him like a splash of cold water, but he refused to let it show. He leaned in closer, deliberately invading her space, his eyes gleaming with that familiar cockiness. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

She met his gaze with a fiery intensity. “It means that you left. You walked away, and I’m still here, cleaning up your mess. So yeah, I remember you. And I remember how it felt to have you pull away like I meant nothing.”

Thanos laughed, but it was dry, forced. “Jesus, you’ve got a way with words, don’t you? You know, I thought you’d be more fun to mess with, but I forgot how good you were at throwing guilt trips. Really good.”

“Guilt trips?” [Y/N] turned her body to face him fully now, her eyes flashing with a mix of fury and sheer hurt. “No, Su-Bong, this isn’t about guilt. It’s about the fact that you’re standing there, pretending like it’s all fine now, when you did leave. You disappeared, and now you expect everything to just magically go back to how it was? Is that it? You think I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to waltz back in with your pretty purple hair and expect me to just forgive you?”

Thanos smirked. “I don’t expect anything from you. But you might want to reconsider that little attitude of yours. It’s really not helping the situation.”

“You think I care about your situation?” she snapped, her voice louder. “You think I’ve been sitting here, all starry-eyed, just waiting for you to get your shit together? Newsflash: I’m done doing that. I’m done with you, Su-Bong.”

The weight of [Y/N]’s words hung heavy in the air, the tension between the estranged pair was palpable. Thanos was about to speak again, something sharp and cutting on the tip of his tongue, when the loudspeaker's monotone voice sliced through the silence, calling the players to line up for food.

Without as much as a glance, [Y/N] brushed past Thanos as though he were invisible, the force of her shoulder knocking him slightly off balance. Her gaze was firmly locked onto the middle of the room as she began walking toward the food line, every step measured, holding that unwavering confidence.

For a moment, Thanos stood there, frozen in place. The argument had been abruptly interrupted, but the sting of her words and her rejection lingered in the air like smoke. As the others began to shuffle toward the line, he realized there was nothing left to say—at least, not now. The silence between them was louder than any argument ever could be.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Mine (Rafe Cameron)

Description: Kie invites Rafe to her cabin for the week and Y/N and him take interest in each other.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,039

Author’s Note: This one gets a little weird

Y/N laughed as Kie told her a joke, something about JJ and how bad in bed he was when they were together. Kie was never one to be nice about any of her exes saying that they were exes for a reason. “Sarah would die if she knew that I invited him.” Kie laughed and Y/N looked at her. “Who?” She asked and Kie rolled her eyes and pointed. Y/N’s eyes followed her finger to a guy that she has seen many times, Sarah’s brother Rafe.

He looked different from the last time that she saw him, he no longer had a buzz cut. His hair was back and he looked like he did when they were in their first year of college. “Wow.” She muttered under her breath and Kie laughed, “Told ya.” She was barely listening to Kie talk so whatever she had told her she missed and would definitely miss everything now.

Rafe saw the two of them and came over, “Hey long time no see.” He said as he hugged Kie. It was weird, when they were growing up she hated him and now had her arms around him. Y/N cleared her throat and Rafe looked at her, “Hey Y/N.” She nodded at him with a smile. “Wanna beer?” Kie asked him, holding one up. 

“So you and Pope..” He trailed off and Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that was bound to fail.” She said and he laughed. “Everyone on that side loved you guys together.” He told her and she nodded. She remembered that and how everyone thought they would get married. She did not see it like that after a while. He was in love with Cleo for crying out loud and nearly cheated on her. “He wasn’t in love with me.” She said and down her drink. Rafe stared at her as she said this.

He wasn’t the only one who changed, “He’s an idiot.” He said. “You’ve always thought that.” She said and he shrugged, some things didn’t change. They sat there and talked for hours even after Kie fell asleep, it was about 2 am when Y/N yawned. “Well I should get to bed.” She told him and stood up. She was drunk by now but not enough to stumble. “Good talking to ya.” He said as she walked away to her room. Rafe’s eyes followed her.

She got in her room and decided that she needed a shower as she reeked of alcohol. She stripped in her room and grabbed new clothes and a towel before going into the bathroom that was connected to her room. Thank God Kie was rich. She turned the shower on and sighed feeling a big headache come on. As she got in the shower and let the water hit her she couldn’t help but think about Rafe.

He looked so good now and seemed to be a different person. If she wasn’t drunk she would have definitely touched herself in here to the thought of him. What brought her out of her thoughts was a noise in her room. She turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing her towel. She wrapped it around her body and creeped to the door. She pressed her ear against the door to hear anything but heard nothing.

She opened the door and walked out to see nothing. She looked around and figured that she was imagining things until she saw her panties on the ground. The ones she just had on that she swore she threw in the pile of clothes. They laid out on the floor away from the rest of her clothes. She picked them up to inspect them and heard a knock on her door. She dropped the panties in the pile of clothes and opened the door. There stood Rafe, shirtless.

Before she could say anything his lips were on hers and her eyes widened. He backed her into the room and to her bed as they made out. She fell onto the bed and broke the kiss, looking up at him with wide eyes. He smirked down at her and crawled on top of her, kissing her again. His hand went up her leg and under the towel causing her to moan. He broke the kiss and started kissing her neck, his hand now on her pussy.

She was so confused and turned on but she wouldn’t stop him. She closed her eyes and sighed as he began rubbing her clit and when she opened her eyes he wasn’t there. She gasped and sat up looking around. She was still in her towel and the bed was soaked from the water. She looked around and noticed that her panties weren’t in the pile of clothing anymore nor anywhere in the room.

She imagined all of that? She noticed that it was day time and she must have been asleep but she doesn’t remember going to sleep. She got up and removed her towel, grabbing new clothes for the day. When she left her room she noticed that Rafe and Kie were in the kitchen making breakfast. “Morning sleepyhead.” Kie said. Rafe looked up at her from cutting something up.

She sat down at the kitchen table and watched him as he cut up fruit. His muscles, dear God she thought. She couldn’t stop staring at him and looked at him like he was the most perfect man to exist. What she wasn’t aware of was that Rafe noticed the way that she was staring and had a smirk on his face. “Here ya go.” Kie interrupted her thoughts as she set the plate in front of her with pancakes. “Your favorite.” She winked at her friend and Y/N thanked her. She looked back at Rafe who was now done cutting up fruits and now washing his hands. 

Kie had gone to bed an hour ago and Rafe and Y/N were left up to talk. Laughs were shared between the two as they both drank. They’ve been here for 4 days now and tensions were high between them. Shared looks and stares of lust yet neither have done anything about it. “So any lucky girl has the heart of the kook king himself?” She asked him as she was sat on the counter, him basically between her legs. He laughed at her question and sighed, “I hate that word.” He was talking about Kook.

It was a label that now he deemed weird and useless but would praise it back then. “Well that’s what you were.” She said and he jokingly glared at her. “I’m single but you can say someone has my eye.” He whispered as his fingers traced her thigh. She looked down at his hand watching him trace patterns on her thigh. He had nice and sexy hands and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have them inside of her.

He looked up at her and noticed her staring at his hands. “You seem to like my hands.” He stated and she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “I saw you staring at them the other day while I was cutting up fruit.” She felt a little embarrassed being called out but he wasn’t wrong.  “You looked so turned on while I was chopping up apples, I started to think maybe it wasn’t just my hands.” He grabbed the knife that was left on the counter next to her.

He gave her a dark look that should have scared her but it didn’t. She watched as he grabbed the knife and stared at it. She gulped, not knowing what he planned on doing with it, “W-What-” “Take off your panties.” He told her and she just looked at him. “Take them off.” He demanded and she did. He took them from her and put them in his back pocket. His large hand moved from her thigh to her throat, her eyes widened as she felt some pressure, “You are one naughty girl, Y/N.” He chuckled as he added more pressure to her throat, in defense her hands went up to grab at his as she gasped for breath.

He chuckled as she tried to remove his hand from her throat but he wouldn’t kill her. His other hand moved to her cunt and gasped when he found that she was soaked. “Me choking you, is that hot?” He asked, teasing her with his fingers making her moan. She couldn’t respond and he eventually let her throat go. She tried gasping for breath but he was toying with her pussy. He leaned in and kissed her, his lips felt so soft and perfect against her that she almost forgot what had just happened.

Her arms wrapped around him pulling him closer as they continued to kiss. Rafe smirked into the kiss as his hand that wasn’t playing with her went to grab the knife again. He pulled away from the kiss leaving her lips chasing his with a moan. Then he stopped rubbing her pussy and pulled away. She looked at him as he played with the knife, there was something about him holding it that really got her going. “I wanna show you something.” He told her as he pushed her to lay back on the counter, she did but she was nervous.

What was he planning to do and why did she trust him? He took the knife and turned it around so that he was holding the blade, he felt her tense up when the handle of the knife touched her. Her eyes widened as she figured out what was going on. He was going to fuck her with the knife. Her breathing picked up a lot and she stared at the ceiling, her nerves were through the roof by now but she was so wet that she couldn’t deny liking the idea no matter how sick it was.

He pushed the knife handle inside of her and she gasped loudly. He chuckled as he watched the handle enter her and her pussy take it like a champ. Her hands gripped the counter as she was now full with the knife handle. Rafe didn’t waste much time as he began thrusting it inside of her. She covered her mouth as she let out a loud pathetic moan, her eyes rolling back. Rafe was enjoying this and chuckled as he faced her pussy that was leaking.

The handle was soaked and she smelled so good. He wanted to tell her to not hide those beautiful noises but Kie was asleep and the last thing he needed was for her to see this since he was fucking her as well. “Rafe.” She whined, not caring about the noise anymore. This felt way too good for what it was. He pumped the knife inside of her faster and faster until she was trying not to scream. His hand was placed on her thigh as he tried to keep her legs open.

Her orgasm was approaching and she was sure she would pass out. “Cum for me, Y/N.” He told her and she whined as she let the orgasm take over her body. Her eyes rolled back and her jaw dropped, she couldn’t make any noise as it felt like her body had stopped working as the most intense feeling she’s ever felt flooded her body. Rafe moved the handle at a slower place letting her ride out her orgasm. He pulled the handle out of her and saw how wet she made it.

She sat up and saw the knife and gasped. Her face was red and she wanted the floor to swallow her whole as she stared at the handle. It was covered in her cum and she came a lot. Rafe saw the look on her face and chuckled, “No need to be embarrassed. That was hot.” He told her and set the knife down, he pulled her into a kiss. Kie watched as the two kissed, glaring at her friend that seemed to be messing around with him as well. She couldn’t believe that he was having sex with them both and what was to come from it.

[matchpointfaist]

riff lorton x rich girl! reader

the next time he saw you, you were seated at the diner, all pretty in the window like somethin' out of a magazine. your cherry red lips were wrapped around a bendy straw, sipping soda as you flipped through the pages of a book.

he hesitated before knocking against the glass just hard enough to get you attention, a goofy grin on his lips. you were up from the stool in an instant, and he glanced over your outfit curiously; a mini skirt, mary janes, a sweater that looked softer than anything he’d ever own. god, you were beautiful.

“riff!” you smiled so widely as you pushed the door open, like you were greeting someone important, surely you couldn’t be directing that at him, “how are you?” “oh, i’m alright,” he smiled slightly, “what’re you doin out and about?”

he listened to you chatter about how you were just bored to death sitting in that house, how you came to the city to live, not to sit in the drawing room with the sounds of new york as a backing soundtrack. “so anyway, i’m just out until my curfew, trying to find something to do,” you shrugged, “and what are you doing out?”

“just makin trouble,” he joked, though it was half true, “you shouldn’t be wanderin around if you don’t know where you’re goin, darlin. you need a tour guide or somethin,”

your eyes lit up, and something he could only describe as a squeal left your lips, “you can be my tour guide! i mean, if you’re not busy, of course,” he shouldnt agree- there was nothing in his part of the city worth your time, it’s not like he could take you to a broadway show or flaunt you around some museum. but you were lookin’ at him like you didn’t care, like he could take you anywhere and you’d be happy just to be out, so he just agreed.

he took you all around, past all the massive hotels and skyscrapers, showed you the broadway box office, all the clubs and cafes. you were in awe of everything, all starry eyes and big smiles and compliments. everything was perfect, until. “can i see where you live?” you looked so curious, so excited, he didn’t have it in him to tell you no. it seemed like he never had it in him when it came to you.

“well, it’s not really the nicest part of town,” he scrambled for an excuse, “and i’ve got roommates,” “that’s fine,” you smiled, like no part of you saw an issue with that, “i’d love to see it anyway,”

so he hesitantly led you a few streets over, the nice businesses and shiny new buildings growing few and far between the deeper into the city you went. finally, he stood at the edge of the lot where a little near-abandoned trailer sat. “well,” he gestured to it, biting the inside of his cheek, the visual of your pristine clothing against the backdrop of his life burning into his mind, “here she is,”

he led you past the rubble of the lot, right up the door, his hand gentle on your arm as he led you up the two steps into the small space. “i don’t know if the guys are home,” he warned as he pushed the creaking door open, trying to gauge your reaction. it was a far cry from your parents summer house, a dingy little space with empty bottles littering the makeshift coffee table and two bedrooms the size of closets. “it’s not much,” he could feel how his face was flushed and he hated it. what did he think he was doing, explaining himself to some summer bird- “i like it,”

he could’ve died right there, watching as you explored the space, the smile never leaving your lips, pausing as you spotted the polaroid of riff and tony pinned to the wall. your fingers traced the image with a fondness that had him reeling, watching you intently, “is this your brother?” you asked curiously, eyes still trained on the image. “no- no, that’s tony. my..” he hesitated. what was tony to him now? best friend, brother, stranger? “he’s my friend. he’s in jail upstate,”

you frowned, looking apologetic as ever, “i’m sorry, riff. that must be awful to be away from him,” you didn’t ask what he did, didn’t pass any judgmental looks his way, didn’t criticize him for hanging around the type of guys who ended up in jail. you were straying further and further from the image he’d had of you, more saint than classist sinner. “it’s alright,” he shrugged, feigning nonchalance, “tell me about yourself?”

the two of you sat for so long, criss cross on his bedroom floor, talking on and on about your life back home and his friends, your family and his lack there of, your ambitions and his fears. he could’ve fallen in love with you there in that messy, cold floor. could’ve made a home for himself in the gaps between your sentences.

minutes turned to hours turned to sundown, turned to you sprawled out across his bed, still talking, still radiating light into his dim space. he had a beat up old polaroid camera that tony’s family had gifted him tucked in his dresser drawer, and he was saving the last of the film for tony’s release, but you looked so goddamn pretty, he didn’t even think twice before he used the last picture on you.

you, with your long hair draped off the side of his mattress, with your crisp new clothes and rosy cheeks and shining eyes. you, the opposite of everything he thought he believed in. you, the most beautiful thing in his universe, thawing out the coldness of the life he’d been enduring for so long, one pretty word at a time.

it was midnight before either of you realized you’d been out so far past curfew, it would do you better to never go home at all. he expected you to run out, to realize the position you’d put yourself in, the way it looked. but you just shrugged, “i don’t have to obey all the rules,” and nestled further into his bed.

he didn’t touch you, didn’t kiss you, but it was more intimate than anything he’d ever experienced, falling asleep beside you like that. your breaths were soft and deep, lulling him into a trance, deeper into this spot you’d taken up in his life so quickly.

half asleep, his hand found yours. when the two of you woke the next morning, your fingers were entwined, and your cheeks were ever so slightly flushed. “i should go,” you yawned softly, his heart aching at the sight, “walk me home?”

and for the second time, he walked you all the way across town, stopping halfway to pick a dandelion from the grass and tucking it behind your ear like this was a movie. at the gate of your house, you stood on your tiptoes, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “thank you for last night,” you said sweetly, voice dripping honey straight into his veins.

“will you be around tomorrow?” he asked, praying he didn’t sound desperate. “sure will,” you smiled, “come by around noon and i’ll meet you at the corner?” he couldn’t wait, already, even standing here in front of you still. “sounds perfect,” he nodded, “tomorrow, then,”

and then, to his shock, you stood up tall again and pressed your lips to his. it was quick and sweet, just enough to make him insane, enough to have his lips burning with the impression of you for the rest of the day. he didn’t get a word in before you were headed up your driveway, glancing over your shoulder and blowing him a kiss.

he could hear your parents scolding you even down the drive as he turned to walk away, thinking of tomorrow.

[confiaenanaa]

sweet girl - eminem

fem!y/n x B. Rabbit

masterlist

synopsis: y/n finally meets Lily after Rabbit decides they're ready.

warnings: cursing, mention of sexual actions

A/N: hope y'all enjoy! if y'all have more prompts, share!

Y/N sat in bed, reading her newly-found favorite magazine. As she turned the page, she felt a buzz under her leg. She sat up, searching for her phone (which she'd presumed had made the buzzing). She opened it to find a text from none other than her beloved boyfriend, Jimmy.

"Hey baby. Can you call right now?"

She had to admit, she was a little surprised. This was supposed to be his break time, during which he never called. She texted back quickly, wondering what could possibly warrant a call during his beloved 20 minutes of break.

"yeah. what's up?"

Y/N started to grow anxious. Why is he calling? Did he want to break up with her? Did he do something he shouldn't have? Did she do something to upset him?

Before she could finish her thoughts, her phone rang. Caller ID: jimmy :)

She answered by the second ring.

-Hey! What's up Jimmy? Why'd you call?

Jimmy smiled behind the phone. He was glad he was doing this.

-Hey baby. Just wanted to know if you could come by my place today and sleep over.

-Yeah, I can come by soon. Who's your sister staying with?

Every time she'd come by Jimmy's house, it was for a quick fuck or to hang out for a few hours. And Lily was never home during these sessions. Jimmy didn't want Y/N meeting her and Lily getting attached without knowing that Y/N was trustworthy.

But, by now, he knew she was ready to meet Y/N and Y/N was ready to meet her.

-Actually, I was hoping if you'd want to meet her today. I think it's time.

Y/N was basically jumping up and down with joy when she'd heard this. But she had to keep her cool.

-Uh, yeah. Yeah, I can come by and meet Lily for the first time.

When Y/N approached Jimmy's door, her legs began to shake a bit. Whatever Lily thinks of her could make or break her relationship with Jimmy; plus, she wasn't a huge fan of the idea of her boyfriend's little sister hating her.

Jimmy heard rapping at the door and stood up quickly. He'd already told Lily she was going to be meeting his girlfriend today; she seemed quite calm about it. To be honest, she was more calm than he was. He was praying to every god known to man that they'd get along. He opened the door and saw Y/N standing there with her duffel in hand and some snacks to share.

He smiled and let her in and called Lily into the room to say hi. Y/N was a bit tense, but it was now more out of excitement than anxiety. She looked to the doorway and saw a timid little thing with bright blonde hair staggering over to the couch.

-Hi, you're Lily right?

Y/N immediately softened her voice when she spoke to Lily. She seemed so sweet and quiet, Y/N knew immediately that they were going to get along just fine.

Lily nodded and looked her in the eyes. She then shifted her eyes to look at Jimmy behind Y/N. Jimmy smiled to try and reassure her.

-Y-Yeah. You're Y/N... right?

Y/N's heart broke at seeing Lily's reluctance to show her true self around people.

-Yeah! Say, Lily, what do you like to do in your free time?

-I like to watch cartoons and draw...

-Hey, me too! You wanna go do that now?

Lily nodded and a big grin began to crawl up her face. Jimmy smiled and sighed in relief knowing that everything was going to be okay.

Lily was in bed, probably dreaming of unicorns and princesses. Jimmy held Y/N close in his arms while they laid in bed, staring at the ceiling.

-She really likes you, you know?

Jimmy asked, smiling at the memory of Lily telling him how awesome Y/N was.

-I'm glad. I really like her too. You know, when you asked me over, I thought you were wanting to do something else.

Y/N said, slightly smirking. Jimmy chuckled and playfully slapped her on the shoulder.

-You wish that's what we were doing.

-Nah. Meeting Lily was better. They both giggled, feeling content. Then, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

[novaursa]

Fire and Gold (whispers)

- Summary: Rhaegar chooses you over her. And Ceresi never forgives you for it.

- Pairing.: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the spider's offer

- Next part: to flip a coin

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @lightdragonrayne @naviaberries

- A/N: Unplanned post. But here it is early, since people asked for it. Enjoy. ❤️

Tywin Lannister stood by the fire in his solar, the flames casting flickering shadows across his sharp, unforgiving features. The silence in the room was suffocating as he stared into the hearth, his hands clasped behind his back. Cersei, seated stiffly in a chair near the window, felt her father’s disappointment like a physical weight pressing down on her, even though he hadn’t spoken yet.

The tension between them had been building for weeks—since the death of the Targaryen prince, the rumors, the whispers that had started circulating almost immediately after. Tywin was not a man who tolerated failure, especially not when it involved his family’s position at court, and she knew what was coming.

"You and your brother," Tywin finally said, his voice as cold and sharp as the steel of a blade, "have done something unbelievably foolish."

Cersei stiffened, her hands gripping the arms of the chair. "We had nothing to do with the boy's death," she snapped, her voice full of venom. "If that’s what you’re accusing us of."

Tywin turned slowly, his golden eyes narrowing at her. "Did I say you had a direct hand in it, Cersei?" His tone was calm, dangerous. "No. But the consequences of your actions are far-reaching, even if you refuse to see them."

Cersei met his gaze, her chin lifting defiantly. "I don’t see how this tragedy can be placed at our feet. We had no part in it. You can't blame us for everything that happens in that gods-forsaken city."

Tywin’s lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. "No? It was you who provoked the queen during her tour, wasn’t it? The scar she now bears is a reminder of your temper. A reminder that the crown sees your House with suspicion and disdain. The boy is dead, and while your hand may not have struck the blow, Cersei, you certainly made yourself a convenient enemy."

Cersei’s face flushed with anger, her fists clenching in her lap. She hated how he could always twist things, always make it seem as if she were to blame for every slight, every failure. "She’s always been the enemy," she spat. "That Targaryen whore was never worthy of Rhaegar. She flaunts herself like she’s the most beautiful woman in the realm—"

"Enough," Tywin interrupted, his voice cutting through her words like ice. "You are a Lannister, Cersei. Act like one."

Cersei’s mouth snapped shut, but the fury still burned in her eyes. She hated the Targaryen princess—no, a future queen now, as Rhaegar had seen fit to make her his wife. The woman had everything Cersei had ever wanted, and it ate at her, a constant gnawing in her chest that she couldn’t suppress. But she knew better than to defy her father openly. Tywin’s patience was not infinite, and she could feel it wearing thin.

"The crown’s disfavor with our house grows daily," Tywin continued, turning back to the fire. "And we can thank you for that. Your inability to control your temper has already cost us the Handship. Now, there are whispers—whispers that you and Jaime may have had a role in the boy’s death. Whether true or not, it damages our position."

Cersei’s anger flared again. "Let them whisper! They can think what they like. It doesn’t change the truth."

"No," Tywin agreed, his tone flat. "But it shapes perception. And perception, Cersei, is more dangerous than truth in court. That is a lesson you would do well to learn."

She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as she faced him. "I’ve done nothing but try to secure our place at court! If you had secured my marriage to Rhaegar as you promised, none of this would have happened! But no, instead, you allowed him to marry her. You gave up on the crown, and now you expect me to—"

Tywin turned, his eyes blazing, and Cersei’s words died in her throat. "Do not speak of things you do not understand," he said, his voice low and lethal. "You are a fool if you believe your actions have gone unnoticed. Your brother’s behavior, your petty jealousy, your inability to play the game with even a modicum of subtlety—all of it has weakened our standing. I will not allow House Lannister to fall further because of your childish whims."

Cersei bit back a retort, but her mind raced. She hated him for making her feel small, for making her feel as though she was the problem when all she had ever done was try to claim what should have been hers. But her father’s eyes were cold, his jaw set in a way that brooked no argument.

"You will do nothing to provoke them further," Tywin continued, his voice steady once more. "And you will stay out of any affairs related to the prince’s death. Do I make myself clear?"

Cersei’s heart hammered in her chest, but she forced herself to nod. "Yes, Father."

"Good." Tywin turned back to the fire, dismissing her with the cold indifference that he so often used when he was finished with a conversation. "Leave me."

Cersei stood there for a moment longer, her fists still clenched at her sides, before she turned sharply on her heel and left the solar. The door closed behind her with a dull thud, but her anger remained, seething beneath the surface. She would not be lectured, not by her father, not by anyone. House Lannister would rise again, but it would be by her hand, not his.

And as for the Targaryens… they would fall. She would see to it. One way or another.

Jaime stood in the shadow of the throne room’s massive pillars, his golden armor gleaming faintly in the dim light. He could hear the shuffle of feet, the murmur of courtiers, but his mind was elsewhere, stuck on the images that had haunted him for weeks now. The dead prince. The blood. The accusing eyes of Rhaegar and Y/N, the heavy suspicion in their voices when they questioned him about that day.

"You're unusually quiet, Ser Jaime," came Barristan Selmy's calm, measured voice beside him.

Jaime clenched his jaw but didn’t respond right away, keeping his gaze fixed on the far wall. The throne room had become a place he despised—soaked in madness and paranoia. His life as a member of the Kingsguard felt more like a trap now than a calling. Finally, after a long moment, he muttered, "The princeling was killed under my watch, Ser Barristan. Forgive me if I'm not in the mood to jest."

Barristan eyed him, his expression thoughtful but guarded. "That is understandable," he said, voice steady. "Or, perhaps, a convenient excuse."

Jaime’s head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing. "And what do you mean by that?"

Before Barristan could answer, the door at the end of the hall creaked open with a groan, and all eyes turned to see King Aerys II Targaryen striding into the room, his cloak of deep crimson trailing behind him. His hair, silver and wild, framed his gaunt face, and the unsettling gleam in his violet eyes had only grown more intense since the death of his grandson.

Jaime tensed immediately, straightening as Aerys approached. Even the sight of the king made his skin crawl, the memory of the man he once swore to serve twisted now into a nightmare. The fire of madness burned bright in Aerys’s gaze, and Jaime could almost feel the heat of it.

"Your Grace," Barristan said, bowing respectfully as Aerys stopped before them. Jaime followed suit, though the motion felt forced, stiff.

Aerys’s eyes darted between them, as if he were scanning for something unseen. His fingers twitched at his sides, his lips pulling into a twisted smirk. "My loyal Kingsguard," he said, his voice hoarse but dripping with contempt. "Tell me, Ser Jaime… have you found the ones responsible for my grandson’s death yet?"

Jaime hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "No, Your Grace," he said carefully. "We are still investigating. We—"

"You were on duty that day, were you not?" Aerys interrupted, his gaze fixing on Jaime with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. "My grandson was murdered under your watch."

Jaime’s mouth went dry. He’d known this was coming, but it didn’t make the confrontation any easier. "Yes, Your Grace. I… failed to protect him. I take full responsibility."

Aerys’s eyes widened, his expression suddenly gleeful, as if Jaime had said exactly what he wanted to hear. "Full responsibility?" the king repeated, a manic laugh bubbling up from his throat. "Do you hear that, Ser Barristan? Our young lion admits his failure."

Barristan remained silent, his expression unreadable as Aerys circled them like a predator.

"Perhaps," Aerys mused, his voice dropping to a whisper, "perhaps I should burn you too, Lannister. If you cannot guard my blood, what use are you?"

Jaime’s heart raced, but he forced himself to remain still, his face a mask of calm. He knew better than to rise to the bait, to show fear. Aerys thrived on it, fed off it.

"I serve at your command, Your Grace," Jaime said through clenched teeth, his tone cold but respectful.

Aerys’s eyes gleamed, and he let out another wild laugh. "Of course you do," he sneered, turning away from Jaime as if suddenly bored with him. "And yet, you have served me poorly, have you not? Perhaps I should speak with your sister about this… failure. Cersei seems to have quite a temper herself. Perhaps she could join your fate."

Jaime’s fists clenched at his sides, though he kept his face neutral. The mere mention of Cersei was enough to send a bolt of anger through him, but he remained silent. Aerys’s madness knew no bounds, and the last thing he needed was to provoke him further.

Aerys turned back to Barristan, his demeanor shifting as quickly as a flame in the wind. "What of you, Ser Barristan? Have you any better news for me? Or are you as useless as the rest of them?"

Barristan, ever the composed knight, met the king’s gaze with calm dignity. "We are doing everything in our power to bring the culprit to justice, Your Grace," he said. "But the truth takes time."

Aerys’s lip curled in disgust. "Time? Time is the luxury of cowards. I want blood. I want fire." His voice rose to a fevered pitch, and he turned abruptly, pacing the length of the throne room. "They took my grandson from me! They think they can kill my blood and escape justice? I will burn them all. I will make them suffer!"

Jaime’s stomach churned as he watched the king’s outburst, his mind racing. He had been on duty that day, yes. But something had been off, something he couldn’t place, and now it was all spiraling out of control. And the more Aerys raved about fire, the more Jaime felt the suffocating weight of his position.

The king stopped his pacing and turned to them both, his eyes gleaming with madness. "Find them," he hissed. "Find whoever did this, or I will find you all wanting. And I will watch you burn."

With that, Aerys swept from the room, his red cloak billowing behind him like a trail of smoke. The heavy doors slammed shut, and silence fell once more.

Jaime let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his hands still trembling at his sides. Barristan glanced at him, his face hard but thoughtful.

"Convenient excuse or not, Ser Jaime," Barristan said quietly, "we must tread carefully. The king's madness deepens with every day."

Jaime swallowed, his mouth dry. "Yes," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, it does."

The soft murmur of voices filled the Great Hall of the Red Keep, nobles and courtiers mingling in clusters, sharing pleasantries and secrets beneath the towering columns and vaulted ceilings. You and Rhaegar moved gracefully through the room, as you had done countless times before, fulfilling your duty to the realm. But today, like every day since the loss of your child, there was a weight to your every step, an ache that never left you.

Rhaegar’s hand rested gently at the small of your back, a silent gesture of comfort. His presence, though comforting, felt muted—he was as much a shell of himself as you were. Your grief had woven a bond stronger than anything before, but it had also created a rift, a shared sorrow that neither of you could fully escape. Still, you both had responsibilities. The court expected the crown prince and princess to present themselves, to lead. To be strong. And so you played the part, smiling, nodding, exchanging words with lords and ladies as if your world hadn’t been shattered.

“Your Graces,” a voice greeted you, and you turned to see Lord Gyles Rosby bowing stiffly. He was a sickly man, with the complexion of one who had spent too much time indoors, and his eyes held the look of a man who had learned to navigate the dangerous waters of court. “My deepest condolences on the loss of your son,” he said, his voice grave. “The realm mourns with you.”

Rhaegar nodded, his face calm and composed, though you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes. “Thank you, Lord Gyles,” he replied. “Your words are appreciated.”

You smiled politely, though your heart wasn’t in it. These conversations had become routine, the same condolences offered over and over, the same hollow reassurances that did little to ease the grief that clung to you. You exchanged a few more words with Lord Gyles before moving on, the weight of duty propelling you through the room.

As you passed by a cluster of courtiers near one of the grand pillars, a snatch of conversation caught your ear. You wouldn’t have paid it any mind if not for one word that stood out, slicing through the hum of voices: the boy.

You stopped, your heart skipping a beat. Rhaegar felt your hesitation and glanced at you, concern flickering in his violet eyes. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

“I heard something,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly to listen.

The voices were low, conspiratorial, and you couldn’t make out everything they were saying. But as you stepped closer, pretending to be engaged in conversation with Rhaegar, more words reached your ears.

“…wasn’t meant for him, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“The boy… I overheard… something else was planned.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse quickening. Whoever they were talking about, it was clear that the prince—your son—had not been the intended target. You strained to hear more, but their voices dropped even lower, the rest of the conversation lost to the din of the room.

Rhaegar leaned closer to you, his brow furrowing. “What did you hear?” he asked softly, sensing your tension.

“I’m not sure,” you whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to you. “But someone just said our son wasn’t the target. Something else was planned.”

Rhaegar’s eyes darkened, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. “Who were they?”

You glanced over your shoulder, but the group of courtiers had dispersed, disappearing into the crowd. You didn’t recognize any of them. “I couldn’t see,” you said, frustration creeping into your voice. “But they know something. Something important.”

Rhaegar’s jaw clenched, and you could see the same mixture of anger and helplessness that had been gnawing at you both since your son’s death. “We need to find out more,” he murmured. “If there’s truth to this…”

You nodded, your mind already racing. If your child wasn’t the target, then who had been? And why? And more importantly, who had been behind it? The suspicion that had lingered since that terrible day now grew stronger, taking root in your heart. You had always believed there was more to this than what had been said—something deeper, something hidden in the shadows. And now, it seemed you were right.

But finding the answers wouldn’t be easy. Court was a dangerous place, full of secrets and lies, and the ones who whispered those secrets guarded them fiercely. Still, you knew that if you were to uncover the truth, you would have to navigate these treacherous waters carefully.

“We need to be patient,” Rhaegar said, his voice low but firm. “But we won’t let this go.”

You nodded, though every instinct inside you screamed for action, for immediate answers. But Rhaegar was right—this had to be handled delicately. Whoever was responsible had already managed to kill your son; they would not hesitate to strike again if they felt threatened.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, your mind preoccupied with the conversation you had overheard. The faces of the courtiers blurred together, their voices blending into an indistinguishable hum. All you could think about was the fragment of information you had gleaned, and how it changed everything.

As you and Rhaegar finally made your way back to your chambers, you felt a new sense of determination settling over you. The grief was still there, deep and unyielding, but now there was something else—a drive, a need to find out the truth, to make sure that whoever was responsible paid for what they had done.

And when you did find them, you would make sure that they burned for it.

[kix-mm]

G/t short story

Daisy took a shaky teep breath to ground herself. "Branch - listen to me, just stay back, please - Branch, Branch! S-stay back!" She begins to step back, but she reaches the wall on the third step, her former friends large hand still slowly reaching out to her, casting a dark shadow over Daisy.

"B-Branch! Don't!" She yells, her voice creaks with fear as she pulls herself into a ball "s-stop! Don't!" She yells, though it was muffled by her pulling herself tighter. She feels sweat bead down her face, her heart pounding in her chest. This was all so dizzying to her.

She felt a gentle heat come closer, making her whimper. Why wouldn't he listen to her, better yet. Why did she insist on following him when he told her he needed a moment? She just wanted to make sure he was alright! She didn't think it would cost her everything!

A large gentle finger gently brushes along her back, rubbing slowly up and down her spine. "Daisy, come on, sit up." his voice was gentle, yet still made Daisy want to curl up even tighter. Was he mad at her? No, Branch wasn't to be reasoned with when he was mad... she slowly peeked up, feeling her heart drop and her head spin when she saw the new dizzying height her friend stood at, even when kneeling he'd still not make it through the door without having to wiggle through like a worm.

Daisy felt his fingers slowly pulling her up, not by the collar like in the movies but instead slowly and carefully by the waist... she blushed for a moment before quickly pulling back and pressing herself against the wall to ground herself. It wasn't much... but it was something, some semblance of grounding. He chest quickly rose and fell, her mind dizzy with questions and fears, yet Branch remained still, his arms crossed awkwardly as if to hug himself.

"I'm not going to hurt you..." Branch huffed in slight annoyance. He hated being looked at like that. It's not something he was unfamiliar with, quite the opposite, considering all the governmental checkups he has to go to. But this was Daisy, his Daisy. He didn't want her to look at him like that, anyone but her.

Daisy flinched and wished she could merge through the walls. The way he looked at her and the tone in his voice made her feel so powerless, like she was in his way... she looked at the door and slowly began creeping towards it before making a sudden dart toward it. As a result, Branch's massive hand slammed against the exit door, blocking Daisy's way out. She squealed in shock. His hand had come a little too close to her for her comfort.

"You almost flattened me!" "Then don't run away!" His voice boomed, instantly crushing any semblance of courage Daisy had as she ducked down and covered her head, like he'd.. hit her or something. Branch was growing frustrated. He sighed and sat back, leaning his head against the wall as he sat looking at Daisy. At least there was more room between the two. Daisy looked up, his looming presence was on the other size of the room, there was a slight illusion of space between the two, a slight comfort for Daisy.

Branch knew of her phobia, or rather her trauma with his kind, but he hoped that this would be an opportunity to calm her fears... "Daisy? You know it's still me, right? I'm not just some monster wearing a face..." his voice had softened, and she hadn't flinched this time. That was good, right?

Daisy felt a conflicting mix of emotions, fear undoubtedly was there, but there was also guilt, worry, understanding for hiding himself, yet also a part of her wished he had told her sooner. "I- I know it's still you, but you seem so different like.. this"

Branch smiled a little "well I can't exactly be loud when I'm like this, and being careful when you're around has become second nature to me, there's not much difference now is there?". "But there is!" Daisy insisted, standing up again."you- you're - " Oh god, what did she want to say? There's so much she wanted to point out! But She had to be careful. This was Branch she was talking to, a friend, but still someone to tread lightly with. How does she say "you're a safety hazard the size of a two story house" without getting crushed?

Branch tightened his firsts as Daisy fished for the right words. When she seemed stuck, Branch finally decided to step in, "I'm dangerous, right?" Daisy froze, guilt rose as she mastered the courage to speak up. "I.. never said that." She muttered, but it was undeniable that she agreed with him. Branch slowly reached down to Daisy, offering his hand. She understandably backs away. "w-what are you -" "Step on, it's okay, I just want to see you better." Daisy froze, could she really trust Branch of all people not to drop her? What if he held her too tight? Had he done this before?

"Dais," his voice interrupted her thoughts. "Stop thinking so much, I'm not going to be wreckless." he reached a little closer. "Come on, I won't grab you, but it'll mean a lot to me if you can trust me right now..." Those words sparked something in Daisy, vulnerability... Daisy wasn't the only one scared right now, surely Branch was too?

She looked at Branch's massive hand, wondering how many others he had carried like that before, she took a few uncertain steps, walking on a hand isn't as easy as some make it out to be, but eventually she made it to his palm and she sat down comfortably before slowly and carefully bring lifted, his second hand cupped around her to ensure no slip-ups.

Once in front of his face, she couldn't help but notice that she could see his eyes so much clearer. Almost like they glowed, she noticed faint details in his face that she otherwise would have missed before. Branch held her a little closer than she would have liked. The soft rosy blush that spread across his cheeks made her want to cover up despite having an already very modest dress. "What is it..?" She asked as she subconsciously held his pinky. "You're just... very beautiful, is all... I've never been able to look at you like this..."

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain

pairing — gojou satoru x fem!reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[geneviveleocardius]

unrequited love

feat. gojo satoru + nanami’s girlfriend

gojo satoru didn’t know what was wrong with him, really. he wasn’t the type to get hung up on anything—or anyone, for that matter. people were fleeting, forgettable, and women? they were easy. too easy. but you? you were different, and that difference was the single most frustrating thing he’d ever encountered.

you, with your bright smile and sharp tongue, barely spared him a glance. and it wasn’t because you were shy, uninterested, or didn’t like men. no, it was because of him—nanami kento. your perfect, always-in-control boyfriend who didn’t so much as flinch under gojo’s relentless teasing. nanami was everything gojo wasn’t, and maybe that was part of why this thing—this stupid, clawing obsession—was driving him out of his mind.

it didn’t help that you were kind. the kind of kind that made his stomach twist uncomfortably because he didn’t deserve it. you didn’t treat him like a god or a nuisance. you treated him like a person, and that was infinitely worse.

but what really drove the knife in deeper, what twisted it, was the way you looked at nanami. the way your face softened when he walked into a room, the way you laughed at his dry humor like it was the funniest thing in the world. and nanami? he lapped it up like the luckiest bastard alive, his hand always hovering at the small of your back, like he knew exactly what he had and wasn’t about to let go.

satoru hated it.

he hated how he found himself gravitating toward you even when he swore he wouldn’t. hated how he lingered when nanami wasn’t around, offering help you didn’t ask for and pretending it wasn’t because he just wanted to be near you. he hated the way jealousy burned hot and ugly in his chest every time nanami kissed you goodbye or murmured something in your ear that made you blush.

he wasn’t in love. he refused to believe that. no, this wasn’t love. it was the thrill of the chase—or maybe just the insult to his ego. you didn’t pay him any mind, and he wasn’t used to that. it had to be that.

except, sometimes, in the quiet moments—when he caught himself watching you from across the room or replaying something you’d said days ago—he wondered if it was more. and that scared him.

“sensei, are you listening?” yuuji’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. gojo blinked, realizing he’d been staring off into space again. his students were all looking at him, waiting for some kind of response.

“huh? oh, yeah. totally. we were talking about…?”

megumi sighed. “you’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”

“who?” gojo asked, feigning innocence, but the way nobara smirked told him he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“nanami’s girlfriend,” she said bluntly. “it’s kind of obvious.”

“what? no! absolutely not.” his protest was immediate, but his students didn’t look convinced.

“you’re so obvious it’s embarrassing,” nobara added, rolling her eyes. “just admit it already.”

“admit what? that i’m irresistible? that’s old news.”

“that you’re into her.”

gojo waved her off, but his chest tightened at the accusation. “you kids don’t know what you’re talking about.”

but maybe they did.

because later, when he found you laughing with nanami in the hall, your hand resting casually on his arm, gojo felt that all-too-familiar ache again. he wanted to look away, to walk past and pretend it didn’t bother him. but he couldn’t. instead, he stood there, frozen, watching the two of you like some kind of masochist.

when you noticed him, your smile faltered just slightly, but you didn’t pull your hand away. “satoru. you need something?”

he swallowed, forcing a grin. “me? nah. just passing by.”

nanami raised a brow, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t say anything. gojo’s grin widened. “don’t let me interrupt your little lovefest.”

you rolled your eyes. “grow up, satoru.”

and just like that, you turned back to nanami, effectively dismissing him.

he should’ve walked away then, but he didn’t. he stayed until nanami caught his eye, his expression hardening in silent warning. and for once, gojo listened.

but later, when he was alone, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. about you. about how much he wanted you, even though he knew he couldn’t have you.

and god, that made him want you even more.

[gothy-froggy]

Won’t you Join Me? II

Gamurra/gonna/cotta- (1300s-1500s dress)

Chemise- (undershirt)

Cottehardie- (fitted overgrown)

Giornea- (overdress, special occasion)

Cloaks/Mantles- (outdoor protection)

Houppelande- (floor-length overdress, flared sleeves)

Pialine- (functional high heels)

Hose- (socks, stockings)

Kirtle/Cotte/cote- (typically formal)

Doxy- a prostitute

Wod/wood/woodnesse- (mad, madness, insanity)

Tarhos Kovács x Noble!Fem!reader

Warnings: Violence, reader having ptsd symptoms, obsession, blood, Tarhos’ nature, not proofread, darker themes, most likely historically inaccurate, dialogue written to be easier to follow along

Summary: Tarhos has met the opposite of himself at a ball some time ago. He couldn’t stop thinking about the noblewoman whether he noticed or not. The night of his attack on the people of Portoscuro he had sent his faithful three to snatch her away and keep her remain within the castle he claims as his own. His obsession grows as much as her disdain for him and she sets a mission for herself: find and rescue Duke Toscano.

·:*¨༺ ♱ † ♱ ༻¨*:·

How many moons has it been since the night?

The night of anguish screams from the strangers, friends and relatives of Portoscuo. The night of when hungry, raging orange flames engulfed the homes of many and crawled onto the streets. The night of when human lives came to an end and pets scattered to safety, wondering if their owners would be alright.

The night of when a certain knight had given into his sins. For what use and for what purpose?

Darknesses of despair only seemed to grow bigger as the Duke of Portoscuro was nowhere to be seen. The snap and crash of collapsing buildings and thuds of collapsing people. Innocent people.

Guilty people as well, she thought as looked into the mirror. Ropes of her wet hair and white undergarment. Phantom touch of dirt and blood still lapped over her skin. And if listened closely there were the phantom noise of her people screaming as flames swallowed them whole, blades piercing through skin.

Never-mind that. Those thoughts will be visited later in the future. Just not now.

Her hand over her other to prevent from it trembling any longer, she stood and reached for the oil lamp. She owes Portoscuro to find its Duke, to find Vittorio. A low hum on the heavy door slowly opening as the light seeps into the hallway from her lamp.

The throbbing mass growing in the pit of her stomach. Last time she laid eyes upon Tarhos was when…

“We can’t do that now, can we? Sir wants you, my lady.”

The man cackled as he picked her, arm under her knees. Due to her struggling and fighting. He let out a growl before setting her down. His armored hand gripping her wrist tightly as he pulled her through the screaming and busy streets.

She was shoved lightly into something rough, hard and cold. The form of an armored man.

An armored man…

She looks up, seeing a familiar helmet and hair strands spilling out through its visors. Breathing so quiet it was as if it wasn’t there. And stood as still as statue, as well as tall of one.

“…Tarhos?”

Her gaze hardened and her jaw clenched. She needed to find Vittorio. He could put an end to this. Tarhos did this. She should hate him, want an end to him for this. Right? It was hard to tell if meeting Tarhos made her sacrifice a piece of morality or if she was tricking herself with what ifs.

What if it was a big misunderstanding? Maybe he had a reason?

No. She saw what happened. He ordered it and now Vittorio was gone. In the undergarments she sneaks into the abyss of the long hallways and big staircases. The only source of light being the fire she holds in her grasp.

It was quiet. So, so quiet.

The soft glow leading her inches in front of her until she reached the end of the wall she has been following. Gods, she didn’t even really have a plan. How could she? Everything was going too fast and the impulsive decision to what— save her Duke? Assuming that he was alive? She peaks her head over, minding the flame of light source and keeping it as a short distance. She didn’t see anything other then the blanket of darkness around her. Not a single noise either.

Her mind wasn’t quick enough to process the split second that had passed by. A calloused hand clamped over her mouth. A muffled gasp was suppressed too much to a make noises. She struggled, trying to fight back— attempting to use her elbows to jab at the person. Just to do something. She wouldn’t give up now. Not when she hasn’t even seen the Duke.

The hand pressed too firmly over her mouth. Her screams were muffled to quiet noises as she was pulled away from the corner. The lantern slipped through her fingers. The shattered glass dancing until their last moment on the cold ground. The warm limited light died down until the darkness engulfed it.

“She tried to escape, Sire.”

“A little dove eager to flap its pretty wings!”

“Should we kill her?”

“No! That’s his lady he fancies! A king needs his queen after all…”

“Quiet! She is awakening!”

Three voices hushed into silence as the woman stirred awake. Their intense gaze watched as she sat up from the disorienting slumber. But none of their gazes were as intense, are frightful as the one’s who eyes could not be seen. He sat across the scene before him in the blood stained armor with his trusty claymore by his side.

There she was. The woman—the noblewoman who had offered her hand to him. Danced under the moonlight despite her status. He had known then that she was different. His cloudy pale eyes’ gaze piercing through the brown strands of his hair that spilled out of his armor visor.

“What is the meaning of this,”

She narrowed her eyes, her tone rasped a little. Using her hands as support as she sat up. White undergarment night gown, hair highly improper. Unkept for all to see. Oh would she been shamed by her family and society for allowing men to see her in such a state.

“Why? Why have you done this?”

The fallen knight barely moved in the slightest. He was fascinated by the ruin of her image before him. My would she be so looked down upon for this very moment. Metal lightly clank as he stood. His protected plate armored hand holding the sides of her cheeks, forcing her to look up.

“You shall stay here. Confined by the walls of what is now mine.” He stated in a guttural whisper as he was inches away from her face. He wasn’t one to talk much, but it was important for her to know his expectations.

The very knight she had offered a dance to was responsible for what has happened to her own. Her very own family…her friends, her Duke. Gods where was her Duke?

“Unhand me,” She lowly barked her demand. Staring him down.

“Where is Duke Toscano? What have you’ve done with him?”

“That is not for you to know, my lady.”

“Come now, Durkos. Let Sire tend this moment.”

His faithful threes snickered. Watching things unfold. Tarhos stared at the woman. His heavy helmet lightly hit the ground. He tilted head, revealing his face.

Her throat tightened.

He looks…different. Less living they she had seen him last. His eyes faded, less color on his skin. He seemed colder.

“The Duke means what to you?”

“The duke means well to me as much as the others.”

“Think of him no longer. It will do you no good.” He gruff.

“And why so?”

“He does not matter. That is why.” The corrupted knight snapped. A huff of air through his nose. He rise, returning to his ruling chair.

“Return her to her chambers.” He ordered.

·:*¨༺ ♱ † ♱ ༻¨*:·

Having been tossed back into her room, she had thought in silence. She had wondered; could she slip through the window? It was a massive risk, a simple fall to her death or worse. Yet her windows were barricaded. She searches. Looking for something to use to perhaps break through. She needed to do something.

Luck was upon her. As the town’s temple had taken slight damage from the ambush. She grabbed the stone from the wall tucked behind the bed.

She stopped.

Footsteps. Deep footsteps making their way, creeping towards her chambers. She quickly stuff it backed into the wall before hurrying to the other side of bed before plopping down onto it. The heavy doors to her chambers draw out an opening.

“You will eat amongst us.” Tarhos’ monotone voice ordered. He took his step into the room, closing the door behind him. The silence only growing as neither of their gazes shifted away.

He stares down at her.

“You have not forgotten me. That I know of. You’ve spoke of my name that night.” Spoke in a lower volume. Taking note how her guarded gaze never wavered.

“You are different.”

“And I had thought that you were.”

“I am.”

“In the worst way to ever exist.”

The silence lingers.

“Do you remember of the night? You had offered your hand to someone below.” Tarhos questioned.

“Do you remember what you have said?”

“It holds no value any longer. You, are a monster—”

“I am.”

She only just now noticed how close Tarhos had gotten. The helmeted head near inches away from her very own face. The noblewoman didn’t need to see his face to know there was more he wished to say.

“You will eat with us.” He reminds. Creaks of the door closing from his departure left her thinking to herself. She will dine before she forces her way out of this chamber prison.

And that she did. Uneased and wary as she watched his three men. Alejandro was the loudest of the bunch. The servants were horrified. Servants that were once nobles themselves. That was obvious as the woman’s hand light shakes as she pours him another drink. Snatching her hand swiftly she lets out a soft gasp.

“Keep the drinks flowing, sweet.” A little hiss of his s’ can be heard.

Sander spoke from time to time. His voice had more base, more naturally projected than the others. Often teased and bothered by Alejandro.

Like Sander, Durkos was quiet. Only quieter. She understood. Stealth, brutal strength and then a mad man she suppose.

And then Tarhos Kovács. Truthfully the scariest of them all as it seems he’s his three men combined into one. And he’s a monster. Barely human.

The frightened servants served the feast. Once more, the Helmet came off. It only confirms that her eyes gave her reality and not an illusion. He just seemed so much less lively than the night she offered him a dance. It sickened her truly.

“I’ll eat up what’s on your plate if you don’t start eating, m’ lady.” Alejandro similarly like the old hag who was rumored of being a witch within the town. Wicked. Twisted.

“Eat.” He, the Knight, ordered.

Her nerves had made her hands tremble little. She began to eat as she stared at the plate. Chewing her food, she plans as she kept the appearance of doing anything but planning. But it quickly ends once she noticed Tarhos’ eyes refused to look away. Refusing to be studied, to be figured out she stops.

“We’ve heard the story of the two of you meeting.” Alejandro’s clawed fingers hits the table. His unnerving grin never fleeing from his face.

“A little noblewoman not only greeting a knight upon a ball, but offered a dance as well? Oh must your family be ashamed!” Alejandro slammed his hand on the table loudly with a wheeze induced laughter from his own cruel joke.

“Silence, Alejandro.” Durkos finally spoken up at the table.

“What? Tis nothing but the truth, is it?” Swinging his neck to the stiff noblewoman sat in her chair. His head cocked to the side.

“A wealthy little noblewoman has done the forbidden. Multiple in fact. She greets a knight, offered a knight a dance. And then what happened next? She exposes herself to a group of men in her undergarments and her hair down. She would be considered a doxy or slut.”

“Enough.”

Any laughter, spoke words or chewing one’s food quickly died down. Tarhos how stared Alejandro down with his cold, light fading eyes.

“Return to your chambers.” He orders to the unfortunate woman who was only just exploited for one’s crude joke moments before. She wasted no time. Fluttering away from the table and into her room.

The only sound that was made after was the shift of clothes of the jailer from Durkos jabbing him with his elbow before following behind his future queen. Ensuring she was retrieving to her room.

·:*¨༺ ♱ † ♱ ༻¨*:·

‘I best be careful,’

She thought as she stared down upon what could be an unfortunate end to her life. A fear lingering—inducing fall to her death as she was high above within the castle. Her delicate fingers bruised and bled from smashing the stone block against the stone wall and the barricaded windows to make her escape. Even from clawing in desperation and frustration.

Faith was put into the foggy memory she has of the castle. Hoping to find the dungeon and with Vittorio inside as well. It was on the side from where she was at. With carefully placed footing and hand placements, she goes on her way. Her own mission. Each progress, each set back and standing still was a high risk. For the building was not made for people to walk over it. Her already damaged fingers gripped tightly to the surface as she nearly slipped to her grave. Looking up at the sky, she prays. Believing in a single God, Gods or none at all, she needed the prayer and needed it to be heard. Small winces from the pain. Yet pushes onward.

She had remembered a small opening when she reached the other side where she can drop into. The garden from where she was at was near. Somewhere that will make her date with the ground easier and quieter. A hiss of pain seeped through between her teeth as she took her fall into the garden. Blood trickling down of a fresh cut on the right arm from a sharp corner of the estate. Pay no attention as there was a mission to complete.

She slipped through back inside of the walls. Searching and searching for the dungeon opening. On alert, the woman scans the hallway. Backing up to the corner to move into the next phase of the maze.

A sharp step back against the wall the stomach of a beast lingering in the darkness. Sander, keeping guard of the wing. She remains in the darkness like him. The brute turning his gaze away from new smaller hero. Hopping across the moonlit floor to return to the shadow.

His grunts and grumbles as he shuffles down the hallway. She follows behind within the shadow. He did a sharp turn shortly after one of her leaps into the shadow. His eyes lingering at the moonlit filled ground.

“Hrmph,” The noise huffed out gently as he turns around and takes the corner. The lack of dedication, attention to the shadows had left her unnoticed.

There, was the arch frame. The stone spiral flight of stairs descending into the darkness below. Small patter of her feet as she goes down the spiral stairs to the bottom.

“My lord,” She laid her eyes upon him. Battered and bruised. Her fingers wrapped around bars of his cell. His hand weakly gripping the iron barrier next to hers.

“What are you doing here?” Vittorio’s voice rasped from his neglect. He was a mess.

“I came for you, Toscano.”

“You need to leave.” He watches her as she scrambles to find keys. Not here.

“The jailer carries the keys. There is no way. You must go, my lady.”

She went back to him as she analyzed the bars. Using force to shake them, to see if there’s any weakness.

“Listen to me,” Toscano whispers his shout. His hand over hers.

“You must flee. It is too dangerous.”

“But the people need you—“

“He has taken over! There is no way of setting me free. Not without those keys.” He explains as his exhausted eyes looked into hers. His eyes traveled down to the gash on her arm.

“He did this?”

She looks at her arm.

“No, he did not. During my fall,” She breaths.

“He locks me in chambers. Forces me to eat among him and his men.” The woman continues to try to damage the bars.

“All of an offer I have made him. A dance.” She huffed. Growing frustrated by the second. The bars refusing to budge.

“Listen to me. Listen well.” Vittorio’s hand went through the space between bars as he gripped her hand.

“You must to leave. Find a way to break me free then so be it. But if you can’t, you must run. And never look back.” He warns. Intensity in his eyes made it very clear. No room for arguing.

“Now go.” The Duke squeezes her hand before letting her go. He watches her run up the stairwells.

Understanding one thing that matters the most in this situation; do not get caught near the dungeon. It would be unwise to do so. She swiftly escapes.

Alas, she was in the wing where her chambers await. She tightened her jaw as she placed her hand over her arm. The pain only really starting to hurt.

“You!”

A gasp disturbs the silence of the castle. The armored hand, similar to some type of clawed monster gripped her shoulder roughly. Those same piercing gaze and unnatural, sharp teeth grin staring down at her.

“Now how did you escape your chambers, little lady?” He eerily purred. His grip tightening and had forced her to let go of her arm. Revealing the cut.

His eyes narrowed slightly for a moment. Quickly turning into amusement. Imitating a cat enjoying playing with its prey.

“Well, well, hurt are we? How did that happen?” He clicked with his tongue before opening the door. Alejandro pat her shoulder twice and shoved her inside the room.

“Sit tight, m’ lady.” He closed the doors to her chambers. Standing there for a few moments she processes.

He was getting someone. Tarhos she assumes. Quick on her feet she hurries to the other side and begins hiding the loosen stones. Swept the crumbs of underneath the bed. There was slight damage to the barricades blocking the window. But perhaps they wouldn’t notice. Or have thought she had used practically anything in the room for its results.

Standing in front of the plush bed she looks at her lightly raised hands. Bruised yellow and purple. Small and big cuts. Bloody. Filthy. Once an elegant, smooth skin has been tainted by the world she had lived above. Forced to feel the life of a class hers saw as worthless peasants.

Harsh swing of the doors made her jolt. The looming man let his hands slide down as he walked towards her with the energy of an angered man. In his under clothes; simple long sleeves shirt and pants. Hair spilling down over his shoulders with his slightly clouded eyes glaring intensely through the strands of his dark locks.

Without saying a word and placed his calloused hand on her back and shoulder. Nearly throwing her on the bed with a low growl. He pulled her arm out, tilting it from time to time. Tarhos didn’t even bother to notice the nervous state that set in her eyes. He ordered Durkos and Alejandro for their assistance as Sander stood by the door as protection.

No comfort from the sting of the alcohol Alejandro passed to Tarhos. It was clear that he was fuming in some type of emotion. Which emotion though was undetectable. Durkos offered the bandages.

“Ow,” She winced softly. Tarhos briefly glanced up, continuing to wrap the wound moments after the exchange. His touch only softening a little. Hands moving to her other arm to see if there were other wounds that had went unnoticed. Being clear, Tarhos left with Sander and Alejandro. Durkos remained behind to clean her up. Making sure the minor cuts weren’t infected.

“We have underestimated you, my lady.” A slight muffled voice lures her out from her dream and back to reality.

“In all respects. We believed that you would be…standard for your class. Clearly that is not the case.” The cloth wiping against her cheek to gather the filth. He gets up. Wandering around the room, eyes scanning the room. He stood in front of the window and faced the stone wall.

He lingers longer.

Turning his gaze to hers. Failing to sense any unease from the woman. He went back to the window, fingers brushing over the dented barricades.

“Rest soundly, my lady.” He pushed one door open and made a quiet exit. Now alone in the room, she lies in the plush mattress on top of its covers. Staring up at the ceiling.

It started with a sniffle. Then the sting of the corners of her eyes. Her porcelain mask finally shattered as her sobs spilt from her mouth. She threw her good arm over eyes before resting the hand on her forehead as she cries.

Her town was destroyed. Family was gone, friends’ fate being unknown. Her Duke thrown into the dungeon and clearly tortured. And she was now kept by the monster against her will. The noblewoman now wonders if there even is a chance, a way out of this nightmare.

·:*¨༺ ♱ † ♱ ༻¨*:·

Fresh sunrise lights the room, warming the stone made room. The lady’s nightgown rests as waves spilt on the covers as she remained a slumbering state. Her eyes opening as a flower blooming in the lenten. Slight puffy eyes from her weeps of the night.

A few knocks upon the door made her sit up in her bed. She got under the covers. A servant slips through the door and held her hands.

“Good marrow, my lady.” The woman greets. Just as the servant from last night her hands trembled lightly. She grips on the other to keep them steady.

She knew that voice.

“Rosuccia?”

The brunette looked up. Rosuccia, her dear friend was alive. Perhaps she wasn’t alone in this castle. The noblewoman got out of her bed and wrapped her arms tightly around her. Her face over her shoulder, against her neck.

“Gods, you’re okay,” She whispered, sniffling as Rosuccia places her hands on her back.

“Oh thank the gods that you are well!” She pulled away, holding her hands in her.

“When the others spoke of a woman, I did not think it would have been you.” Brushing her hair away from her face.

“I was sent to help you dress for the day.” The two decided on a dress before dressing her. Fixing the fabric and going to her hair, Rosuccia spoke up once more.

“There are only so little of us who were spared. The others are either tormented or killed.” She gathers her hair, braiding it. Adding ribbons within her hairstyle.

“My dear friend. He wishes to wed you.” She reveals, causing the noblewoman to freeze. The brunette places the braided hair into a bun and turn her to the mirror. The reflection revealed the dress. They were the most finest fabrics, biggest headpieces, lovely of patterns and colors.

The cotte; a complimenting color, the train following behind her, buttoned, the low neckline and sleeves fell down over her knuckles.

“A special occupation?” She questioned her dear friend. Rosuccia guides her to sit as she placed the socks over her feet. Placing her heeled shoes over before guiding her to rise.

“He requests for you to be in finer clothing.” She called out her name as she stopped at the door, looking back. A nervous smile forced upon her face.

“Please, be careful.” She opens the door as she waits for her to exit. Silence accompanied them on the walk down the long halls. Nothing dreads more than the large doors leading to the throne. Entering and having to walk closer to the knight felt like a ball chained to her body, dragging and slowing her down.

Tarhos’ eyes lingered through his helmet as he rose from the throne he now claims. He didn’t need to speak to know he was expecting her to follow. Into the garden, she stood by his side tensely. His armored hand taking her cheek into his palm. Cautious to not bother her peace.

“You will be able to eat soon enough.” Reporting as they cease their walking into the garden. The metal was cold, but his warmth by soul—rather what little he had less—made her fall into the touch for a brief second.

He caused it all.

She reminds herself. She restrains herself and pulls away from his touch.

“Why am I here?”

“To be my wife.”

“What?”

His hand went to the curve of her neck connecting to the shoulders.

“You are to be my wife.”

Rosuccia wasn’t lying. Her hell hasn’t even begun. He loomed down towards her face as she hit the stone structure and the her back.

“I have chased a feeling for my entire life I had once felt.” He lifted the hand up to her cheek. To others it would be a lover cupping her cheek. But the reality is a twisted sense of power.

“I want you to be there. I will wed you.” Tarhos demands in a stern, low voice.

The lady shoves his hand away as her brows twisted with fury and disgust.

“You set fire to my town. Destroyed my house, slaughtered the people, tortured our Duke and you stand before me expecting me to agree to marrying you?” She jabs a finger at his chest.

He could hurl her. Strangle her, beat her to death, use his claymore to strike her down if he really wanted to. But he doesn’t. He stands there and let her.

“You. Are like no other.”

“I should have never offered you that dance.”

“This isn’t about the dance.” Tarhos had a hand slither to her torso. It had rested on her ribcage.

“You fucking wod!” She shouts towards him.

“You’re mad. Absolutely mad…” The woman pushes him back to escape the stone wall. No efforts granted freedom from his grasp.

“What happened to you?” Tarhos didn’t respond. He releases her. His hands returning to his sides.

“I remain the same. That I have always has.” He took a flower within the garden. Half were ruined by the brutal attack. He placed it in her hair. A gesture more out of possessiveness, not love.

“Despise me all you wish. I will not let you go, and make you my wife.” He rolls up her sleeve to the right arm. His hands going over the bandage ghostly. The helmet tilted down. Expressing how much he wonders what had caused the injury.

“Come,” Tarhos guides her back into the grim castle. There within the room of an office were servants being watched by the Carnifex. Laying out a dress that was far more than appropriate for wedded bride. It was perfection. The houppelande of sorts filled with colors. Accompanied by fur. She could only imagine the jewelry that will soon come into play will enhance its beauty.

She stood still as she stares at the dress. Failing to notice the Knight snuck behind her. He raised her hand up, slipping a ring over her fingers.

“You will rule beside me. And you will be my wife.”

…

..

.

·:*¨༺ ♱ † ♱ ༻¨*:·

A/N: Apologies for disappearing within writing for about 1-2 years so I wanted to make this one longer. It really can be my internal critic, but I think I’ve done much better writing. I also had to redo so much for getting the timeline lore incorrect so this kind of made me frustrated, haha. Hopefully you enjoy and maybe there will be a chapter three!

[nofingjustaninchident]

ᯓ★ i hate you more pt.3

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

pairing jason grace x roman!reader

summary well, he should be dead, and she’d gladly kill him

warnings probably cursing, third person writing

now listening to bad blood by taylor swift

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Chiron invited them inside, sending Drew back to her cabin. y/n was glad when the girl walked away - her excessive touchiness with Jason had been grating on her nerves, as was the fact that she didn't even understand why it pissed her off so much. 

Especially because it shouldn’t, since they apparently hated each other so much. 

"Follow me," the centaur said. "We have lemonade." 

Grapevines covered the walls of the living room, running across the ceiling as well. y/n wasn't sure how they were able to grow inside, especially given the season, but they were leafy green and bursting with bunches of red grapes. 

The girl looked up at a stuffed leopard's head hung above the fireplace, so real-looking that its eyes seemed to move. It snarled at Jason, and she felt him nearly jump out of his skin next to her. 

“For the gods’ sake-” He muttered under his breath and y/n had to stop herself from snickering.  

"Now, Seymour," Chiron chided. "Jason is a friend. Behave yourself." 

Chiron threw a sausage to the leopard, who snatched it up and licked his lips. "You must excuse the decor," Chiron said. "All this was a parting gift from our old director before he was recalled to Mount Olympus. He thought it would help us remember him. Mr. D has a strange sense of humor." 

"Mr. D," Jason said. "Dionysus?" 

"Mhm." Chiron poured three glasses of lemonade, though his hands seemed to tremble slightly. He and Jason carried on a conversation about the old camp director and Seymour's origins, y/n watching in silence. She could tell that Chiron was wary of her as well, though he hadn't recognized her the way he recognized Jason. She supposed that was a good thing, giving the conditions - he had said Jason was supposed to be dead. 

"So, Jason, y/n," Chiron said. "Would you mind telling me – ah - where you're from?" 

"I wish we knew," Jason sighed. “I mean, i don’t. Maybe she does and just don’t want to tell anyone.”  

That earnt him a smack in the arm, which was nothing but passive-aggressive.  

y/n let Jason tell the story, only chiming in when he left out a detail or she needed to speak from her own experience. Chiron didn't react aside from nodding encouragingly for either of them to continue. 

When Jason was done, Chiron took a sip of his lemonade. "You only remember each other?" he asked for clarification. 

Y/n nodded. "Sadly, yes. Just names, but still." she muttered, looking over at Jason briefly. "Everything else is... blank." 

"I see," Chiron said. "Well, you must have questions for me." 

"I have one," y/n spoke up. "Any reason in particular those... naiads? Is that what they're called? Is there a reason they talked to me or...?” 

Chiron regarded her with inquisitive eyes. "They talked to you?" 

y/n nodded. "Yeah, one of them just... stood – can i say stood if they’re underwater? Anyway, one of them stood there and told me to just breathe." She tried to push away the memory of the human-like thing telling her to take a breath underwater. "Is that... normal?" 

"No," Chiron confessed. "That's highly unusual - naiads are typically friendly, especially the ones in the canoe lake, but they don’t usually talk. Well, at least, not that anyone could understand, anyway. The only person they talked to was...”  

With his pause, y/n looked expectantly at him. “The only person they talked was..?” And something Annabeth said came up to her. “Was it that guy that Annabeth talked about? Uh- Percy, right?”  

Chiron’s expression got somewhat darker, but he managed to cover it up. “Yes, Percy. He's one of our oldest campers now, but he’s missing.”  

“Oh.” y/n muttered. “Sorry.”  

“It’s no problem, child.” Chiron assured. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

But what if it was? 

"In any case, that indeed is strange," Chiron said quietly. "I will have a talk with them. Until then, it may be best to steer clear of the lake." 

"That won't be a problem," y/n muttered. 

"Do you have any other questions?" Chiron asked. 

"Uh, yeah," Jason admitted. "What did you mean when you said I should be dead?" 

Chiron studied him with concern. "Do either of you know what the marks on your arms mean? The color of your shirt, Jason? Do you remember anything?" 

Jason shook his head. "No, nothing," Jason said. 

"Do you know where you are?" Chiron asked. "Do you understand what this place is, who I am?" 

"You're Chiron the centaur," Jason said. "I'm guessing you're the same one from the old stories, who used to train heroes like Heracles." 

"And this is a camp for demigods," y/n said, "children of the Olympian gods." 

"So, you believe those gods still exist?" Chiron asked. 

"Yes," Jason answered immediately. y/n felt the same confidence, though she didn't know where it came from. "I mean, I don't think we should worship them or sacrifice chickens to them or anything, but they're still around because they're a powerful part of civilization. They move from country to country as the center of power shifts - like they moved from Ancient Greece to Rome." 

"I couldn't have said it better." Something in Chiron's voice had changed. "So, you already know the gods are real. You have both already been claimed, haven't you?" 

"Maybe," Jason answered. 

"We can't remember," y/n said. 

The leopard on the wall snarled, and Chiron studied them for a moment, waiting. y/n realized after a moment that Chiron had switched to another language, and she and Jason understood it fluently. 

"Quis erat-" Jason faltered, as if the language was automatic. "What was that?" 

"You know Latin," Chiron observed. "Most demigods recognize a few phrases, of course. It's in their blood, but not as much as Ancient Greek. None can speak Latin fluently without practice." 

y/n frowned, trying to wrap her brain around the fact that she could speak Latin, of all languages. Why couldn’t it be french, german, maybe? It felt so familiar on her tongue as she spoke it, the same as in her ears when Jason and Chiron did. 

"I taught your namesake, you know - the original Jason," Chiron said. "He had a hard path. I've seen many heroes come and go. Occasionally, they have happy endings. Mostly, they don't. It breaks my heart, like losing a child every time one of my pupils dies. But you two are unlike any pupils I've ever taught. Your presence here could be a disaster." 

"Thanks," Jason muttered. "You must be an inspiring teacher." 

"You should look into motivational speaking if you get bored here," y/n grumbled. 

Chiron sighed quietly. "I am sorry. But it's true. I had hoped after Percy's succeeded in the Titan War and saved Mount Olympus, we might have some peace. I might be able to enjoy one final triumph, a happy ending, and perhaps retire quietly. I should have known better. The last chapter approaches, just as it did before. The worst is yet to come." 

A heavy blanket of gloom seemed to rest over the entire room. 

"Okay," Jason said. "So - last chapter, happened before, worst yet to come. Sounds fun, but can we get back to the part where I'm supposed to be dead? I don't like that part." 

“Why not?” y/n asked, rolling her eyes as she looked at him with annoyance clear on her eyes. “I like it very much. Sounds appealing, doesn’t it?” It was as if the tease just had to leave her. She didn’t understand where all that came from.  

“Oh, fuck off for a moment.” He grumbled and flipped her off.  

"I'm afraid I can't explain, my boy. I swore on the River Styx and on all things sacred that I would never..." Chiron frowned. "But you're both here, a violation of the same oath. That, too, should not be possible. I don't understand. Who would've done such a thing? Who-" 

Seymour howled, his mouth freezing halfway. The fire stopped crackling, its flames hardening like red glass. 

Everything seemed to just... stop. 

"Chiron?" Jason asked. "What's going-" 

Chiron was frozen, too. Jason and y/n stood up, but Chiron's eyes didn't waver. His mouth was open mid-sentence, and he sat there, not blinking or even breathing from the looks of it. 

"Tell me you're seeing this, too," Jason whispered, reaching for y/n’s hand instinctively. 

She squeezed it tightly, not even noticing at first. She glanced down at it, and decided to stay holding it. It was the only sign that they both weren’t crazy. "Frozen centaur? Yeah, I see it." 

Jason, a voice spoke. y/n. 

A dark mist poured from Seymour's mouth. Storm spirits, she thought, her free hand going to her pocket and taking her key out. She and Jason both summoned their weapons. 

The mist shaped itself into a woman in black robes. 

Her face was hooded, but her eyes glowed in the darkness. Over her shoulders was a goat-skin cloak, falling down her back and brushing the floor. y/n recognized the cloak for some reason, and she knew somehow that it was important - that it was much more than a strange fashion choice. 

Would you attack your patron, Jason? the woman chided. Her voice seemed to echo in y/n’s mind, bypassing her ears entirely. Lower your swords. The two of you. 

"Who are you?" Jason demanded. "How did you—?" 

Our time is limited. My prison grows stronger by the hour. It took me a full month to gather enough energy to work even the smallest magic through its bonds. I've managed to bring you two here, but now I have little time left, and even less power. This may be the last time I can speak to either of you. 

"You're in prison?" Jason questioned, still not lowering his sword. "Look, I don't know you, and you're not my patron." 

You know me, the woman insisted. I have known you since your birth, Jason. 

"I don't remember," Jason said. "I don't remember anything." 

No, you don't, she agreed. Neither of you do. That was also necessary. Long ago, Jason, your father gave me your life as a gift to placate my anger. He named you Jason, after my favorite mortal. You belong to me, Jason. And unfortunately, she’s way too useful to be left behind.  

"Hey!” y/n protested.  

"Whoa," Jason said, ignoring her completely. Something told y/n that this was something he often did. "I don't belong to anyone." 

Now is the time to pay your debt, she said. Find my prison. The girl has the key to unlock me. Free me, or their king will rise from the earth, and I will be destroyed. You will never retrieve your memories. 

"You stole our memories?" y/n asked, her eyes narrowing at the hooded woman. "And you want us to help you?" 

You have until sunset on the solstice. Four short days. Do not fail me. 

The dark woman dissolved, the mist curling into Seymour's mouth. 

Time unfroze. Seymour's howl tapered off into a cough. The fire crackled to life and Chiron continued, 

"—would dare to bring you here?" 

"My guess is the lady in the mist," y/n muttered. 

Chiron looked up at them in surprise. "Weren't you just sitting... why are your swords drawn?" 

"I hate to tell you this," Jason said, "but I think your leopard just ate a goddess." 

He proceeded to Chiron what had happened when time froze. 

"Oh, dear," Chiron murmured. "That does explain a lot." 

"It does?" y/n asked. "Care to fill us in?" 

"Please," Jason added. 

Before Chiron could say anything else, the front door to the Big House blew open and Annabeth and another girl, a redhead, burst in, dragging an unconscious Piper between them. 

"What happened?" y/n asked, rushing over to them with Jason close behind, both of their swords abandoned on the coffee table. "What's wrong with her?" 

"Hera's cabin," Annabeth gasped, like they'd run all the way to the house. "Vision. Bad." 

The redhead looked up, and y/n saw tears on her cheeks. "I..." She gulped. "I think I may have killed her." 

                           𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

The redhead – who, later, y/n discovered to be named Rachel Dare – had not, in fact, killed Piper. She was still breathing, though she couldn't seem to wake up. 

Ophelia didn't like the sight of the girl so pale and sickly, as if Hades himself had come up to the mortal world to take away her soul but forgot to do so. y/n was positive she didn't know the girl, not like she knew Jason, but they had survived a battle with storm spirits and a chariot crash within the span of just a few hours - things like that bonded people. 

Chiron put his hand on Piper's forehead, grimacing. 

"Her mind is in a fragile state. Rachel, what happened?" 

Rachel shook her head slightly. "I wish I knew," she said. "As soon as I got to camp, I had a premonition about Hera's cabin. I went inside. Annabeth and Piper came in while I was there. We talked, and then- I just blanked out. Annabeth said I spoke in a different voice." 

"A prophecy?" Chiron asked. 

"No. The spirit of Delphi comes from within. I know how that feels. This is like long distance, a power trying to speak through me." 

Annabeth ran into the room carrying a leather pouch. 

She knelt next to Piper. "Chiron, what happened back there - I've never seen anything like it. I've heard Rachel's prophecy voice. This was different. She sounded like an older woman. She grabbed Piper's shoulders and told her-" 

"To free her from a prison?" Jason offered, looking at y/n with a grimace. The latter was still staring at the girl laid down in front of her, wondering what she could do to help – or rather, if she could really do anything to help.  

Annabeth stared at him. "How did you know that?" 

Chiron made a strange three-fingered gesture over his heart, like a ward against evil. y/n tried to ignore the unsettling feeling it gave her. "Jason, y/n, tell them. Annabeth, the medicine bag, please." 

Chiron trickled drops from a medicine vial into Piper's mouth as Jason explained the vision he and y/n had witnessed of the woman who claimed to be Jason's patron. 

"Does this happen often?" y/n chimed in when he was finished talking. "Supernatural phone calls from convicts demanding you bust them out of jail?" 

"Patron," Annabeth said, looking at Jason with a frown. "Not your godly parent?" 

"No, she said patron. She also said my dad had given her my life," Jason said. 

Annabeth's frown deepened. "I've never heard of anything like that before. You said the storm spirit on the skywalk - he claimed to be working for some mistress who was giving him orders, right? Could it be this woman you saw, messing with you?" 

"I don't think so," Jason said. "If she was my enemy, why would she be asking for my help? She's imprisoned. She's worried about some enemy getting more powerful. Something about a king rising from the earth on the solstice-" 

Annabeth looked at Chiron, her face losing its color. 

"Not Kronos. Please tell me it's not that." 

Chiron was quiet for a moment, checking Piper's pulse before he finally answered, "It is not Kronos. That threat is ended. But..." 

"But what?" Annabeth asked. 

Chiron closed his medicine bag. "Piper needs rest. We should discuss this later." 

"Or now," y/n said with a frown. "You said the greatest threat was coming. The last chapter?" 

"You can't possibly mean something worse than an army of Titans, right?" Jason asked.  

"Oh," Rachel said, her voice small. "Oh, dear. The woman was Hera. Of course. Her cabin, her voice. She showed herself to Jason and y/n at the same moment." 

"Hera?" Annabeth looked downright murderous. "She took you over? She did this to Piper?" 

"I think Rachel's right," Jason said. "The woman did seem like a goddess. And she wore this- this goatskin cloak. That's the symbol of Juno, isn't it?" 

"It is?" Annabeth scowled. "I've never heard that." 

Chiron nodded. "Of Juno, Hera's Roman aspect, in her most warlike state. The goatskin cloak was a symbol of the Roman soldier." 

"So, Hera is imprisoned?" Rachel asked. "Who could do that to the queen of the gods?" 

Annabeth crossed her arms. "Well, whoever they are, maybe we should thank them. If they can shut up Hera-" 

"Annabeth," Chiron warned, "she is still one of the Olympians. In many ways, she is the glue that holds the gods' family together. If she truly has been imprisoned and is in danger of destruction, this could shake the foundations of the world. It could unravel the stability of Olympus, which is never great even in the best of times. And if Hera has asked Jason and y/n for help-" 

"Fine," Annabeth grumbled. "Well, we know Titans can capture a god, right? Atlas captured Artemis a few years ago. And in the old stories, the gods captured each other in traps all the time. But something worse than a Titan...?" 

"Hera said she'd been trying to break through her prison bonds for a month," Jason said. 

"Which is how long Olympus has been closed," Annabeth said. "So, the gods must know something bad is going on." 

Jason sighed, a look of frustration on his face. "But why use her energy to send y/n and me here?" he asked. "She wiped our memories, plopped us into the Wilderness School field trip, and sent you a dream vision to come pick us up. Why are we so important? Why not just send up an emergency flare to the other gods - let them know where she is so they can bust her out?" 

"The gods need heroes to do their will down here on earth," Rachel said. "That's right, isn't it? Their fates are always intertwined with demigods." 

"That's true," Annabeth said, "but Jason's got a point. Why them? Why take their memories?" 

"I'd like to know that myself," y/n muttered. 

"Piper's involved somehow," Rachel said. "Hera sent her the same message- Free me. And, Annabeth, this must have something to do with Percy's disappearance." 

Annabeth looked at Chiron, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Why are you so quiet, Chiron? What is it we're facing?" 

Chiron looked as if he'd aged ten years in a matter of minutes. "My dear, in this, I cannot help you. I am so sorry." 

Annabeth blinked. "You've never... you've never kept information from me. Even the last Great Prophecy-" 

"I will be in my office," Chiron announced, his voice heavy. "I need some time to think before dinner. Rachel, will you watch the girl? Call Argus to bring her to the infirmary, if you'd like. And Annabeth, you should speak with Jason and y/n. Tell them about- about the Greek and Roman gods." 

"But..." 

Chiron turned away, heading out of the room and down the hallway. Annabeth muttered something in Greek that y/n suspected wasn't too kind toward centaurs. 

"I'm sorry," Jason said. "I think us being here - I don't know. We've messed things up coming to the camp, somehow. Chiron said he'd sworn an oath and couldn't talk about it." 

y/n frowned, wanting to add that she definitely hadn’t asked to come to the camp, but she bit her tongue - it wasn't the time. 

 "What oath?" Annabeth demanded. "I've never seen him act this way. And why would he tell me to talk to you about the gods..." Her voice trailed off, looking at the two gold swords lying on the coffee table. She touched Jason's gingerly, like it might be hot. "Are these gold? Do you remember where you got it?" 

y/n shook her head, Jason doing the same. "We don't remember anything," she said. 

Annabeth nodded like she'd come up with a rather desperate plan. "If Chiron won't help, we'll need to figure things out ourselves. Which means... Cabin Fifteen. Rachel, you'll keep an eye on Piper?"  

"Sure," Rachel promised. "Good luck, you three."  

"Hold on," Jason said. "What's in Cabin Fifteen?"   

Annabeth stood. "Maybe a way to get your memories back." 

TAGLIST @maybxlle @sunshine-of-ur-life @liviessun @bellamysnatblida @mp-littlebit @cinemaconrad @eaterof-concrete

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 8

Summary: You're getting ready to officially leave for college, when a familiar truck pulls up outside your house. When you go to say goodbye to your best friend, there is more tension than you expected. Flash forward to the immediate aftermath of the explosion, and you stand up to Shane once and for all.

See notes at the end, as they contain spoilers for this chapter.

Warnings: mentions of smut, but still SFW.

You were nervously packing your thrifted backpack with the half used notebooks and pencils from your room, head spinning with the list of things you needed to buy for your first semester at Georgia State University. You were lucky you had some student grants to help you with things like your dorm room costs and buying new bedding for the new bed you’ll have. But the costs of textbooks, extra clothes that weren’t tattered with stains and holes, and --if you found one good and cheap–a laptop were looming over you. You heard a honking outside your front door that pulled you away from your mental list in your head. You zipped up your backpack and hauled it over your shoulder along with the duffel bag with all your other belongings. You were headed out to the bus stop anyway, managing to find a couple bucks under your mom’s mattress while she was out today. You figured you’d find out who was honking outside on your way out. When you opened the front door, you froze in the doorway, half turned around to close it behind you. There was a glossy black truck in your driveway. You slowly brought the door shut behind you. Looking around the street to see if anyone else was nearby, you dropped your things on your porch and walked down to the driver’s side door hesitantly.

“Hey,” Shane says in a hoarse whisper, leaning out the window. 

“Hi,” you say simply back. You stood a few feet away from the car, waiting for him to say something, and he looked lost for words. He pushed his hand through his long black hair that sits piled on top of his head in a neat tousled style. His beard was growing a bit fuller now, and you stopped yourself from trying to think of what it feels like to the touch. The way Shane acted the last time you saw him was still fresh in your memory. You reached up to your neck unconsciously before bringing your hands back down to your sides. 

“Listen…” Shane finally began, “I–I’m sorry. About everything. I was such an asshole, baby. I should’ve known better,” he said nervously, “You are everything to me, Y/N. I hate the way I treated you that night. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I miss you. I know what I did was wrong and…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

You took a deep breath, processing everything he was saying. On the one hand, you wanted him to feel as hollow as you had the past couple weeks without him. You were glad to hear he’d been hurting from the way he acted the last time. He had left bruises on your skin, but what hurt you the most was that he wouldn’t even listen to you. He completely disregarded your words, let alone how terrible you were feeling that night. But at the same time…god, you’ve missed him too. After a long while, you come to your answer. Your mind is screaming to you that you should’ve said no, but your heart managed to answer first.

“Okay,” you whisper. He looked up with you, his puppy dog brown eyes full of hope.

“Okay? You forgive me?” he said. You nodded with a small smile. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, getting out of his truck to hug you tight to him, “you’re everything to me, truly,” he whispered into your hair as he held you against him. He felt warm and muscled under his officer uniform–he must’ve just gotten off of work. You pulled back from him, and looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity.

“You mean it?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I do,” he says, reaching down and pulling you for a hard kiss. He captures your mouth possessively, holding your face to his with his large, rough hands. His tongue plunges into your mouth with fervor. You hummed in satisfaction and he pulled you into the truck, sitting you on his lap. As he sat back in the driver’s seat, he ran his rough hands down your arms, making you shiver. You straddled him, knees deep in the seat as he pulled you closer.  “How ‘bout one more time, before you have to go,” he teased, pulling you into him for a few small, wet pecks to your lips.

“I have to get going, I’m going to miss my bus,” you said, your arms around his neck.

“I’ll drive you, I don’t want you on that nasty public bus,” he said with a playful hint to his voice. 

You hesitated. You were planning on seeing Daryl on your way out, to say goodbye. You weren’t moving far, but the chances of you being able to afford bus fare and come back to see him were few and far between. 

“It’s really okay, I don’t mind,” you insisted, pulling your arms away from his neck. You went to press them on his chest but he reached up, holding your arms in place.  “I’ll take you to see ‘em,” he said knowingly. He rubbed his hands down your arms again, comforting you. His voice was quiet and soft. Gentle, even. Your eyes widened in confusion.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yeah, ‘course. But first,” he smiled coyly, “…I’ve missed you,” he said, squeezing your ass in his large hands, making you grind your hips onto him. You toppled forward onto him, his lips finding your neck, kissing and biting you.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled, “make it quick–then I really have to go,” 

“Deal,” he said, grabbing your hair and pulling you further down into his lap.

x

You breathlessly pulled your shirt back down to cover yourself and zipped your shorts up when you climbed out of the truck a few minutes later.

“I gotta go get my bags,” you began, buttoning the last fastening on your shorts, “And I think I forgot something,” you said with a big smile, going up to your house for the last time. You run to haul your bags over your shoulders, dashing inside.

x

You had thought this was a good idea–Shane dropping you by Daryl’s on your way to leave for school. But the closer and closer you got to his house, the faster your heart beated against your chest. As Shane put the truck in park, he pulled your chin to look at him and brought you in for a long kiss before releasing you. 

“Go on, I’ll be right here,” he said gently.

You smiled and pushed open the door with one hand, a cupcake in your left. When Shane offered to give you a ride, you suddenly had remembered you made one vanilla cupcake for today to bring to Daryl. You were going to miss his birthday that weekend, but still wanted him to know you remembered. 

When you shut the truck door behind you, you stopped dead in your tracks. Daryl was perched on his front porch railing, smoking a cigarette. You looked back into the truck to see Shane staring him down now. Had he pulled you in for a kiss because he knew it would be in front of him? Shane wouldn’t be that petty--no. But as you watched their stare down continue, you weren’t so sure.

Daryl wasn’t looking at you as you approached the house, but staring hard at the vehicle in his driveway. When you made your way up onto the porch, he finally turned his head to look at you, his glare still glacial on his face.

“I came to say goodbye,” you said quietly to him. You held out the cupcake to him, “and to say happy early birthday,” he looked down at the cupcake, and back up at you. Without saying anything he just looked back out at the truck, eyes narrowed. 

“Daryl, please,” you plead to him, lowering the cupcake. You don’t know what else to say, so you stood there, just waiting. Daryl brought the last of his cigarette up to his lips, still watching the truck. Once he had let out a long puff of smoke out to the sky, he hopped off the railing, putting the cigarette out on the wood, and walked right past you into his house. He made sure to slam the door behind him, the bones of the house shaking. You stared wide eyed at the door for a long moment, not sure what to do. You felt your face flush with heat, and before you would allow any moisture to gather in your eyes, you sat the cupcake down on the cigarette butt littered table by the door, and ran back out to the truck.

x Flash Forward x

By the time you and Daryl had made it back to your truck, there were pieces of ash and debris falling out of the sky already. He had gotten up off of you once the explosion had made its initial blow, bringing you up to your feet, only to turn and run to the cars at breakneck speed. So now, you’re finally reaching the truck door and swinging open the passenger side as he throws his crossbow and gun in before hopping in himself.

“You idiot! You absolute idiot! ” he was shouting at you, “the hell were you doin’ in there? You nearly exploded with the whole damn building!” 

He is shaking with rage as he waits for some sort of explanation from you. When you both turn to see Dale and Andrea make it to the RV, he reaches down to turn the key in the ignition. He rests his hand on the wheel, waiting to start moving, and looks over at you expectantly. 

“So did you!” you yell back at him.  “I was only in there ‘cause I was lookin’ for you after I didn’t see you come out with us!” his red face is livid, and spit flying as he yells. You are taken aback, sitting against your seat. With your hesitation, Daryl continues, “What the hell were you even doin? Forget a magazine ‘er somethin? Lip gloss left behind?” He starts moving ahead, behind the rest of the group's cars. His hands are white knuckling the steering wheel.

“Oh screw you, Daryl. I was looking for you , asshole.” you narrow your eyes and point an accusatory finger at him. Now it’s his turn to look stricken, so you continue, "I didn’t see you. I didn’t see anyone when I came out of my room. I had to—" you pause, trying to find the right words, "I couldn’t leave without… knowing for sure where you were." Your voice drops to a whisper. "I just needed to make sure no one else was in there," You end quietly, but with a sense of finality. You know what you really wanted to say, and hope he could read between the lines without making you say it out loud.  “Well don’t do anythin’ like that again,” he says quieter, “ Stupid. It’s stupid to risk your life for me, Y/L/N,” he says even quieter, almost to himself. 

“Back at you, Dixon ,” you say with sarcasm, folding your arms over your chest in annoyance. Rick’s voice suddenly comes over the radio on Channel 40 after a long stretch of silence between the two of you, and you reach down to turn up the volume.

“--gonna pull over here by these houses,” the bad connection breaks up his voice, “--some vehicles we can siphon some gas,” his voice is crackling from the static, but you’re able to make out the important information. Daryl pulls the truck up on the dirt driveway and looks over at you.

“‘m serious, Y/N. Never again.” he says seriously. You almost roll your eyes but think better of it, and just ignore him. Hopping out the passenger side, everyone is grabbing the gas cans, ready to see what they can find from the abandoned vehicles left behind. 

Shane is approaching both you and Daryl, and you stiffen, “We’re gon’ need to ration the gas we can find,” he says with authority to Daryl, “you okay with drivin’ the bike to save gas, we can take what’s left in the truck and use it for the RV?”

Daryl just nods, moving to the bed of his old beaten up truck to start unstrapping the motorcycle. You stand in front of Shane, who has his hands on his hips, looking down at you. 

“Listen Y/N,” he breathes, but you shake your head.

“Let’s just forget about it,” you say, whispering to him and shaking your head, “I don’t want to know what’s going on with you and Lori. It’s not my business,”

“Okay, but I–” he begins, but you hold up a hand, stepping directly in front of him to shield anyone’s prying eyes.

“But if you ever touch me like that again,” you seethe, your eyes filling with fire, “I will not hesitate. I will tell every member of this group what’s goin’ on and what you did. And I happen to know two people who would have a real problem with that information,” 

He stares down at you, his eyes hardening.

“You and me, Shane, whatever this is, whatever it was, is no longer. I can’t do it anymore. You crossed a line. A really fucking big line. I ain’t your ‘plaything’ anymore. I’ve had enough,” you finish, quoting his words from last night. You step away and turn before he can say anything else. Rick is watching the two of you, and when he looks over your shoulder, he nods to Shane, maybe in question, you can’t tell. You don’t care anymore. 

Daryl is sitting on Merle’s bike now, engine roaring to life. He walks it up as he sits, pulling in front of you, cutting off your path. He just shoots his head over his shoulder gently, waving you on. A silent understanding that he was done being mad at you. Without a word, you hop on, and grab him by the sides of his tattered sleeveless shirt. You look over to Shane, who watches Lori and Rick before Dale calls him to get into the RV. So, you have only three vehicles now: the RV, the hatchback, and the bike. You suppose the guys must’ve funneled the fuel they found and conserved what they could from the other two you had to leave behind. Until there was any chance of finding a camp, resources had just become very, very scarce.

You hear the RV start behind you, and Daryl leads the newly minimized caravan ahead to the highway.

Notes: yes I'm annoyed at the MFC too for getting back together with that asshole. But she must! For the plot!! She doesn't know any better! She's never had a father's love! yes it's a short chapter, I was emoshie over Daryl and you, okay??? and can we just have a moment for that pic of young Daryl????

Chapter 9 is here