#(but i believe that there will always be a little glimmer of hope)

[novamariestark]

Can I get a Dean Winchesterx reader using prompts 9 and 10 off list one and prompt 46 off list two, please?

Summary: A quiet date night with Dean gets interrupted.

Warnings: proofread but there's always a mistake after posting 🤣

Word count: 1229

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompts: “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!” “Did you just... agree with me?” “I'm actually going to kill you”

[A/N] hope you like 😁

How did we even get here? Sometimes, life takes a strange turn, almost as if the universe decides to have a little fun with you—except you’re not laughing. The night had started so differently. It was supposed to be simple—normal even. Sam had dropped the two of you off at that tiny, run-down bar a few miles outside town, giving you some space for your long-awaited “date night.” You were supposed to have a quiet evening, maybe a few drinks, some laughs. No monsters. No hunts.

But, because some idiot stumbled into the bar, raving about a “monster” they’d seen outside town that meant date night was over. You’d barely finished your drink before you were dragged out, headed straight for where the alleged sighting had taken place. The kicker? Sam had taken the Impala to pick up some supplies, promising to come back later. So here you were, stranded without Baby, crouched behind a row of garbage bins like a couple of amateurs. This is not how you imagined your alone time with Dean would go. You had hoped for something more... normal.

Dean was in front of you, so at least you had something nice to look at. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good, but seriously? This was the worst idea he’d had all week—and that was saying something. At first you thought you had heard him wrong but oh no. You had heard him right.

You glanced at him, unable to believe what was coming out of his mouth. “Are you seriously suggesting we rob a cop car?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, even though you were two seconds away from smacking some sense into him.

Dean turned to you with that infuriatingly casual grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Borrow,” he corrected, like that made it better. “It’s not illegal if we give it back.”

You stared at him for a moment, your brain struggling to comprehend the sheer level of Dean Winchester logic you were dealing with right now. He had to be joking. But he wasn’t. He was dead serious.

“Okay,” you shot back, your voice dripping with so much sarcasm that it could be visible, “maybe next we can walk into the nearest bank and help ourselves to the entirety of the vault. You know, for funsies.” Dean’s only response was to roll his eyes, still not seeing the problem. You took a deep breath as you waved your hands around for emphasis. “LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS ILLEGAL!”

Honestly, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or scream. You were a hunter—a damn good one. You could handle ghosts, demons, and all manner of monsters that most people couldn’t even fathom. And yet, here you were, stuck with this idiot, debating grand theft auto like it was something minute like, who’s turn it was to wash the dishes.

You gave him the deadliest deadpan look you could muster, hoping he’d catch a hint of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m actually going to kill you.”

Dean’s grin only widened, those green eyes glimmering in the dim light. “But you’ll look good doing it.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the faint heat creeping up your neck. His charm was both your kryptonite and your fuel—it was hard to stay mad when he looked at you like that, but then again, it also made you want to throw something at him. Preferably something heavy.

Glancing back at the cop car, you sighed. This was ridiculous. Utterly insane. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to shut this down, to come up with a better plan. But the other part—the part that had been on countless hunts with Dean, the part that trusted him more than anyone else—knew you were probably going to go along with it anyway.

“Fine,” you sighed, the word leaving your lips before you even knew you thought it.

The second it slipped out, you mentally kicked yourself. Seriously? Fine? Fine? Really? That’s all it took? One look from him, and you were ready to throw common sense out the window? You weren’t fine. Yet somehow, here you were, agreeing to what had to be the stupidest plan Dean Winchester had ever come up with. And that was a long list.

Dean’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “Did you just... agree with me?” His tone was laced with mock disbelief, but that smirk—oh, that damn smirk—said it all. He was enjoying this way too much, and it didn’t help that the glint in his eyes practically sparkled.

You hated that look. The one that always made your stomach do flips, like a rollercoaster you swore you’d never ride again, but kept getting back on anyway. It wasn’t just the smirk. It was Dean. He had this magnetic pull, and no matter how much your brain screamed No!, your heart—and apparently your mouth—tended to betray you in his presence.

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to regain some control over the situation. You weren’t completely rolling over here. You’d follow him into the fire, sure—but you’d still give him hell for it.

Dean winked, already turning his attention back to the car, pulling out his lock-picking tools and started to unlock the car, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, shooting you another wink and that cheeky smirk of his that sometimes you wanted to smack and others, kiss until you both looked like smurfs.

Your heart fluttered in spite of itself as you tried to ignore the way he seemed so damn... charming while committing a felony. His words floated around your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” Oh, you knew exactly what he was implying. Your lips twitched involuntarily. Damn him.

You crossed your arms, glaring at the back of his head, “What? My criminal record?”

Dean finally got the lock to pop, a click breaking the silence. He stood up, turning back to you with that grin, “See? Easy as pie.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said, with the cocky tone in his voice because he knew he wasn’t wrong. You hated how much he knew it, how much he knew you.

You took a step closer to him, eyes narrowing as you shot him a pointed look. “Just get in the damn car, Winchester.”

Dean chuckled as he pulled the door open, “After you, sweetheart,” he said, gesturing to the passenger seat.

You climbed into the car, the faint smell of cheap air freshener and coffee mixing with the cool air of the night. Dean slid in beside you, looking far too pleased with himself. The engine roared to life, and as the tires crunched over gravel, you couldn’t help but shoot him another sideways glance.

“So, what’s the plan, genius?” you asked, crossing your arms as if that might protect you.

Dean shrugged, “Find the monster, kill the monster, return the car—no harm, no foul.”

“If we end up in jail, you’re explaining this to Sam.” You said, leaning back into the seat, propping your elbow on the door, and resting your chin on your palm.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Hiiiii! So, a few days ago you were talking about the whole thing with Amy, Rory, and River. And when I saw those posts a thought arose in my head and I wish to share it with you.

Since River grew up with Amy and Rory as Mels. And Mels was Amy's best friend do you think that they ever talked about children? Since I know that it can come up when talking with friends, and like... do you think that Amy might've ever expressed whether or not she wanted children?

And if she didn't, that Mels would've had to listen to her mother say that she doesn't want children? The idea is so heartbreaking and sooo interesting.

What do you think about it?

no, no, see, you're so right and this drives me wild.

because, the way i see it, i don't think amy wanted children. she's somewhere on the 'hasn't thought about it' to 'vaguely negative feelings about it happening' range to me, which falls sharply into 'Not Happening Ever Again' post-s6. (specifically, in terms of having a kid herself, even if she could, i really don't think she would. i do love that she and rory end up adopting a kid later, because that does make sense, for amy pond who grew up alone in one universe with her family swallowed by cracks in time before the doctor helped her set it right again, for her to want to make sure another child won't be alone in the world like she was. getting off-track here.)

and that's so. because the first real memory river/mels has of amy is of amy shooting at her. and depending on how well the silence fucked up the rest of her memory, it might be one of the very first memories she has at all. that's how she met her mother, crying for help and getting a bullet instead. her mother tried to kill her, so of course, you have to think. she must have needed to hear that she was wanted, right? even if she was taken away, even if amy shot her, at some point, melody must have been wanted?

river is good at getting people to do what she wants, but she is very, very bad at subtlety. and mels is younger, has less practice, so when she wants to know this, she's just going to ask. blunt and quick, easy enough because amy's used to the way mels will open her mouth and you just have to be ready to roll with what comes out if you want to keep up. it's why they're such good friends (like mother, like daughter.)

they're nine, and mels asks if amy wants kids, and amy wrinkles up her nose and says she won't have time for children, obviously, once her raggedy doctor finally comes back. they're fifteen, and amy and rory dance will they-won't they in a way that makes mels twitchy to watch, and taunting amy about wanting to have rory's babies is a good way to get on her nerves. but amy calls her gross, tells her she's got more life planned than children would leave room for, and besides, imagine her, a mom? it'd be a disaster.

mels does. a lot. she looks at her mother and just sees her best friend instead. she's not even sure what she wishes was there, but. maybe amy's right. and besides. imagine her, a daughter, instead of the ticking time bomb she really is? it'd be a disaster.

they're sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and on. mels stands on the outside of a love story that births a universe. and her. how do you compete with that? not that she would know, not yet, she hasn't been there. but it doesn't make her feel any less alienated when amy and rory talk in whispers about a half-remembered world that's bled through to this life, about roman soldiers and boxes and the big bang of belief.

all these memories, they never mention children. on amy's wedding day, she's different, not like someone remembering a dream but someone who lived it. rory stands straighter, won't leave her side, and they're both so much older than they were yesterday. maybe now, right? a wedding's as good a time as any to decide you want kids.

mels not being at amy & rory's wedding is such an obvious lazy way of them trying to explain why they totally didn't just throw this plot twist together at the last minute that i'm not even going to acknowledge it. of course she was at their wedding. she's their best friend. there's too many people around the doctor, and she wasn't ready today of all days, so despite this horrible burning need under her skin to strike, she stays her hand. doesn't let him dance with her because she might just tear his throat out if he gets too close. stays with amy and rory as the maid of honor should. she must have been there for the awkward questions that always gets asked, 'so, any plans for a baby?' 'when am i getting grandkids?' 'oh, you two are going to have gorgeous children together.' standing a few feet from amy in her wedding dress and watching her mother tense and grit her teeth and brush off the questions. watching her look nervously at rory but never ask if he means it when his mom asks him if he'd prefer a son or a daughter, and rory answers 'either one, some day, not anytime soon.'

god i'm just going on and on, aren't i. but really, what's it like to know that amy never changed her mind. the next time she sees them, she's already been born and stolen. i don't like let's kill hitler for. so many reasons. but there is something compelling about how recklessly river lashes out at the world, at the doctor. even her sacrifice at the end is almost suicidal, throwing all her regenerations into this man without knowing if that will even work or if it might kill her to do it. but it makes more sense in the context of someone who has reached the end of a long, long wait for some kind of indication, any kind, that her mother wanted to have her. and finally been told, no. she didn't choose melody.

[rodjanikov]

I've always presented myself to the general public as a pessimist or a realist, when in reality people would be shocked to know with how much hope my silly little heart overflows with

[r0ugesun]

just thinking about grumpy!aemond x sunshine niece!reader, that's all

Intimidating uncle who only smiles for his sweet niece?? How can I refuse? :> I hope u like it anon

Synopsis: Aemond’s icy demeanor softens as his playful niece, Y/n, brings joy and warmth into his life through her persistence and tender moments.

Aemond x Niece!Reader

The vast expanse of the Red Keep stretched before them, a labyrinthine structure of ancient stone and intricate tapestries of the Targaryens rich history. Within its cold, echoing halls, moved with his customary stoic grace, his singular eye perpetually narrowed, his demeanor perpetually grave. It was a disposition well-suited to his character, a shield against the tumultuous world he inhabited. Yet, like a glimmer of sunlight piercing through storm clouds, his niece, y/n, was a stark contrast to his brooding presence.

Y/n’s laughter echoed through the halls as she flitted about, a vision of radiance and mirth. Her wit was as sharp as Valyrian steel, and her spirit as unyielding as dragonfire. She was a beacon of joy in a court often shrouded in intrigue and gloom, and though many found solace in her presence, Aemond was not among them. Or so he would have others believe.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a sanctuary for y/n, a place where she could escape the stifling formality of court life. She found Aemond there one afternoon, standing by a marble fountain, his expression as inscrutable as ever. With a mischievous smile, she approached him.

“My dear uncle, why do you always seem to be plotting the downfall of the Seven Kingdoms?” she quipped, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Aemond’s eye flicked towards her, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I find little cause for humor, niece. Unlike you, I am not so easily distracted by frivolity.”

“Frivolity?” she repeated, her tone playful. “Surely, you do not think the pursuit of happiness to be frivolous, Uncle. It is the very essence of life!”

He huffed, turning his gaze back to the fountain. “Happiness is a fleeting illusion, y/n. It is duty and strength that endure.”

“Ah, but what is duty without joy? What is strength without laughter? A kingdom built on sorrow and scowling faces is a kingdom doomed to fall” she countered, her voice gentle yet firm.

Aemond’s expression softened ever so slightly, a fleeting hint of amusement in his eye. “You are relentless, aren’t you?”

“Relentless? Perhaps. Or simply persistent in my never ending quest to make you smile” she replied with a toothy grin. “I believe there is a smile hidden somewhere beneath that scowl.”

Aemond arched an eyebrow. “You overestimate your abilities, niece.”

“And you underestimate mine, uncle” she shot back, her tone light but her words carrying a subtle challenge.

Days turned into weeks, and y/n’s persistence in engaging Aemond in conversation did not wane. She would find him in the library, poring over ancient tomes, and offer her commentary on the latest court gossip. She would join him during his solitary walks along the battlements, teasing him about the weight of his thoughts.

One evening, as they dined with the royal family, y/n’s quick wit came to the fore once more. The courtiers were discussing a recent skirmish at the border, the atmosphere laden with a slight tension. Aemond’s expression was particularly dour, his mind clearly occupied with strategic considerations.

“Uncle Aemond” y/n began, her tone deceptively innocent, “do you believe the enemy quakes in fear of your legendary glare? Perhaps we should send a portrait of you to the battlefield. It might end the war without any bloodshed.

A ripple of laughter spread around the table, even King Viserys chuckling at her jest. Aemond’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile breaking through his stern facade.

“You have a dangerous tongue, y/n” he said quietly, though there was no malice in his voice.

“Only when it is necessary to cut through the gloom” she replied with a wink.

Despite himself, Aemond found his defenses weakening. There was something irresistible about y/n’s unwavering cheerfulness, her ability to find light in the darkest corners. She was not deterred by his gruffness, nor intimidated by his icy demeanor. Instead, she met him with a courage and joy that was both infuriating and captivating.

One evening, as the sun set over the Blackwater Bay, they found themselves alone on the roof. Y/n leaned against the balcony, her eyes reflecting the golden hues of the sunset.

“Do you ever tire of being so serious, Uncle?” she asked softly.

Aemond sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It is not a matter of choice, y/n. The burdens I bear are heavy, the responsibilities immense.”

“And yet, you bear them with such strength. But even the strongest warriors need respite” she said, turning to face him. “Allow yourself a moment of peace, Aemond. If not for your sake, then for mine.”

He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and saw the sincerity in her eyes. The walls he had built around his heart began to crack, ever so slightly. Perhaps there was wisdom in her words, a truth he had long ignored.

“Very well,” he conceded, a faint smile gracing his lips. “For your sake, I shall try.”

Y/n beamed, her joy infectious. “That is all I ask, dear Uncle.”

In that moment, he found a glimmer of happiness he had thought lost forever. As he leaned closer to her, their breaths mingling, he felt an unfamiliar but welcome warmth.

With a gentle tilt of his head, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them.

They drew back slightly, their foreheads touching, and Aemond could not suppress a soft chuckle.

“It appears you’ve managed to disarm me with a kiss” he said, his tone lighthearted.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she responded, “I had hoped that a kiss would be more effective than a sword. It seems I’ve found a more persuasive weapon.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow with a playful grin. “Am I to expect a steady stream of kisses to temper my seriousness?”

“Only if it ensures that you’re less somber” her smile teasing. “But fret not, I shall reserve my attacks for the most opportune moments.”

“Special occasions, then?” he inquired with mock seriousness. “I shall need to prepare for such events.”

Y/n’s laughter was light and musical. “Indeed, but for now, simply relish this one. It appears to be quite effective.”

Aemond shook his head, still smiling. “Your talent for lightening my mood is alarming. I may have to enlist you as my personal jester.”

“And here I thought I was merely your charming niece” she retorted in faux indignation, giving him a gentle nudge.

“Charming niece and occasional troublemaker” he corrected, “but I find I am quite content with both.”

Their shared laughter filled the space between them, making the day’s burdens seem lighter.

[sarahisslytherin]

•❣•୨୧ 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 ୨୧•❣•

benedict bridgerton x princess!reader

summary: benedict has always been against marriage, but when he meets the princess one fateful night he can't help but fall in love.

contains: fluff and a lot of flirty banter.

a/n: another series cos it was just too much for a oneshot! this was so fun to write i just adore him. to the anon who requested this, i hope you love it and all its upcoming parts!

word count: 1.2k

You feel a heavy gaze on you as you glide across the ballroom. The chandelier above you twinkles with a warm glow, the light catching in your hair as you’re spun around by this suitor and that. The king has tired of begging you to select one for yourself and has threatened on more than one occasion to marry you off to the next prince to set foot in the palace. You know he doesn’t mean it, but you also know it is your duty to carry on the royal bloodline. Your father is right. You must choose. But certainly not this young man dancing with you. No, he’s far too boring. Not unsightly by any means, but he doesn’t make your stomach flip, doesn’t make you giggle as if possessed by an unearthly amount of joy. Still, you feel the eyes of another on you.

Benedict Bridgerton has long been a firm believer of marrying only when absolutely, undeniably in mad love. He hasn’t found that, not yet. That is why when his sisters begged him to accompany them to the royal ball he only agreed under the condition that they leave him free to speak to all the lovely women attending. Perhaps he might be able to take one home tonight and part ways come morning. That had been his original plan, anyway, which lay discarded from this very moment on; the moment he laid eyes on you.

Your current dance partner bows before you as the song comes to a close. He gives you a playful smirk before leaving you, and you resist the urge to laugh. You sigh, exhausted. You’ve got half a mind to find your father, tell him you’re not feeling well and retire to your bedroom for the remainder of the night. You’re grasping at the ruffles of your gown to turn and leave when he appears before you. He has a boyish grin fit to make the most reserved of women melt, and his ocean eyes glimmer like moonlight on waves. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?” You couldn’t say no if you tried.

It’s a different ballroom tonight, but you feel yourself searching faces in the crowd, hoping you might catch a glimpse of that handsome stranger you danced with only a fortnight ago. It was no simple feat escaping the palace. You struggled to squeeze into your gown on your own, but couldn’t risk any of your ladies in waiting knowing about your little disappearing act. You slipped on a cloak and placed a mask over your face. You followed an emergency tunnel beneath the palace grounds until you finally found yourself beneath the pale glow of moonlight. You knew it was mad, but you simply had to see him. He consumed your dreams, and when you were awake, your daydreams. He had been whisked away too soon by his family. You couldn’t even get his name, only his surname: Bridgerton. They have always been a respected household, and at tonight’s masquerade ball you can only hope to encounter them.

Music fills the halls of the Featheringtons’ estate, but the plucking of strings and sweet melody of the violins does little to soothe your nerves. You resolve to distract yourself from your anxious mind and seek out a dance partner. They’re playing a lively song, one that makes you laugh giddily as you hop to the rhythm. You’re so overjoyed, you almost forget all about that Bridgerton lad and his blasted piercing blue eyes. That is, of course, until you step aside to catch your breath and are met with them for the very first time since the night of the royal ball. 

“So we meet again, Princess.” he teases, and your eyes go wide. 

“How did you recognize me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“The same way you recognized me, of course.” he smirks, almost as if he weren’t speaking with royalty. “I would know those sweet eyes anywhere.”

“You’ve got quite the silver tongue, haven’t you, sir?” you smile, your cheeks taking on a faint blush as you fan yourself coyly.

“So I’ve been told.” he replies cockily. He gets closer to you; simultaneously too close for comfort yet not close enough. You’re not sure what to make of this man who makes your heart pound in your chest like no other has ever done before. This man whose name you do not even know.

“Tell me,” you demand in the tone you have grown accustomed to using to get what you want, “what is your name?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” he giggles like a mischievous schoolboy, and you’d be lying if you said you don’t find it endearing. 

“You know mine.” you retort. “The entire kingdom knows it.”

He feigns shock, clutching his heart and letting his jaw drop. “Why, aren’t we full of ourselves?” You laugh, your eyes crinkling behind your lace mask. 

“I know one of us certainly is.” you tease him back, and he loves every second of it.

“Princess?” he asks, but is quickly hushed by you.

“Lower your voice, do you wish for the entire ballroom to know of my presence here?” you urge him.

“Forgive me, Pri-” he begins once again, but you give him a playful shove your father would have undoubtedly reprimanded you for, seeing as it isn’t very ladylike. “Forgive me, my lady.”

“Much better.” you smirk, satisfied with yourself. “You are forgiven, my lord.”

“Now you tell me.” he says. “What is a lady like yourself doing at a ball like this? Surely you’ve been to better ones.”

You’re suddenly thankful for the white mask hiding your bashful expression from him. “You’re right, I have. But, you see, I was hoping to run into someone.”

He replies with a playful, “Oh?”. You can tell he is clearly intrigued by the information you’ve provided him. “What a coincidence. I was hoping for the same, though I must admit, never in my wildest dreams did I think my hopes would come true.”

“Well”, you go on, “I dare say they have.”

Suddenly, his eyes change and all playfulness is replaced with earnestness and solemnity. He lowers his voice down to a baritone only you can hear. “Princess, you truly must know you have haunted the chambers of my mind since the moment I laid eyes upon you. I may not be royalty, but I have other virtues you will discover if you only allow me. I can love you like no suitor or prince has done so before. Say the word, my lady, and I am yours.”

You’re a bit taken aback by his sudden outburst, but you can tell by his eyes, those gentle eyes, that he means every word he utters. And his words couldn’t have described your own feelings any better. “You’re quite the poet.” you grin. “But how can you be mine if I don’t even know your name?”

He laughs once again, and the tension is lifted. “Benedict Bridgerton, my lady.”

You extend your hand to him and his lips ghost your knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bridgerton.” 

“The pleasure is all mine.” Benedict beams, rising once again. “and I’m hoping the next dance will be, as well?”

“Of course.” you nod, a glint in your eye only Benedict can catch. “I’m all yours.”

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl @enchantedbytomandhenry @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @dd122004dd @marvelspogue

[luv-gukkie]

★ little, naive thing ★

pairing: yandere! jeon jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: a small cuddle takes jungkook back down memory lane; a time where he could only admire your pretty-self from afar with a burning need to make you his, an idea your little boyfriend wasn’t so fond of.

word count: +4.8k

tags/warnings: cockwarming, boobie kisses, dom! jungkook, sub!reader, jungkook worships reader, he switches up real fast, size difference, smooches here and there, jungkook manhandles reader, he's possessive, degrading comments, public sex? (don't worry? no one catches them), jungkook gets into a fight, he hurts himself, manipulation, jk lies, talk about marriage ;), degrading comments, jungkook gets a tattoo of..., unprotected sex (don't be silly), reader was his first (for EVERYTHING), he's in love LOVE

notes: hope you enjoy it! i’ll try to post the small writing about yoongi soon :)

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

"no, no, no, no!" jungkook yells with a small smile as his hands covered his face, acting as if he was sad. you sing out a little chant, sticking your tongue out at him. he can't help but hide his laugh at your taunts and the small dance you do behind his hands. you're so cute, jungkook thinks as he stares at you through the gap between his fingers. the playback of your pink character, cat peach, flashes through the television screen as it shows her first through the finish line seconds before tanooki mario, jungkook's character, crosses through it as well. he groans in pain, "i was so close." he can't believe how good you've gotten at mario kart 8. it's unbelievable how fast you've learned. "wanna know my secret?" you whisper softly as if there were people around you; even though both of you are alone in your shared apartment, with the only witnesses being bam, the big and strong doberman, and cinnabon, your cute, tiny bunny. the pair lay together (similar to jungkook and you) on bam's huge bed, cuddled into each other, hiding behind their floppy ears. with the same mischievous tone, jungkook whispers back, "i have to know." you smile before leaning in closer to his ear and before he knows it, he's backing away, tricked and played. jungkook covers his ear, recovering from your surprise shriek. you giggle at his reaction before going in to leave kisses on his face all around. "sorry", you giggle as he "tries" to get away from you, but it's impossible because you two sit together squished on a bean bag.

as he sees you laugh, memories with you flash through his mind. it takes him back to the start of his love to you; all the way in high school.

jungkook has never been social to begin with. he's always been a little timid and shy compared to others, but it didn't meant he couldn't experience the same things others his age were experiencing. puberty had hit him hard. jungkook had grown too fast over the heat of summer. his voice was no longer of a teenage boy, but one of a grown man. the change into manhood had girls confessing their admiration to him left and right, but he's never been too interested in starting a relationship in the first place. it's not until he landed his eyes onto dainty, little you.

jungkook remembers it was the first day of sophomore year, the summer had tanned him a bit from being a life guard at the public pool and he had grown his muscles. jungkook's eyes wandered around the new classroom, recognizing everyone's faces, but stammering at an almost unrecognizable face. the reddish lipgloss you wear shines on your plump lips, a slight blush on your cheeks and your eyelashes have darkened with mascara. it's clear that he's not the only one who's changed over the summer. your hair is styled perfectly with a nice hairstyle that makes it even cuter. but it's the glimmer in your eyes that attract him the most especially with that faint, flirtatious smile you put on as you smile at the boy who holds your hand. the realization hits jungkook, why the fuck are you holding that boy's hands? that boy probably didn't even know you existed last year so why were you giving him such a lovely look? he thinks he's been staring too long when the guy turns around to glare at him and sticks his middle finger out when you turn around to talk to your friend.

shit.

it would've been a whatever to jungkook, but now, he keeps seeing you everywhere since he's noticed you. and it's not fair that your fucking boyfriend follows you everywhere you go, always in your shadow and never not. and it's like your boyfriend feels notices the glances he throws at you and sends him nasty glares whenever he gets the chance. jungkook fucking hates his ass. hates how he's gotten obsessive over you when he barely knows you; when you don't even know him. he doesn't like the feeling really, but he can't ignore it either so he does everything he can to get the little lovebirds to separate for his sake. eventually a small little rumor breaks things apart and he can't help the little smile that breaks free when the gossip he started reaches his ears. its times like this when jungkook is thankful to the loudmouths his classmates have. and it's like the heavens heard of his prayers when in no time, he had you in his grasp for life.

you don't even find out about jungkook being hurt until your lunch time. the whispers of jungkook's name are loud and seem true enough that you dash out when you hear a short version of the story. you're over the top worried for jungkook. your heart hurts, your eyes are blurring up and sweat is building up on your forehead as you get nearer to the nurse's office. when you find him sitting with a bandages across his arms and hand, fists bloodied and his nose still slightly dripping with blood. and even as the dark bruises are hurting him, red running down his nose and his arms onto the once white bandages, he runs to you with a call of your name and a helpless expression on his face. you let out a painful sob at his delicate form, "jungkookie, this is all my fault. i'm so sorry, you shouldn't be like this." jungkook doesn't deny your claims, tearing into your neck as his arms hug your waist in a tight embrace. you promise to take care of him and you do by spending every single second next to him, making sure he's not hurting. not noticing the sly smile he had on each time you turned around because of how his dumb little girlfriend didn't realize the blood on him wasn't his, but of your ex-boyfriend.

you ignore your ex. can't stand thinking about that stupid idiot, much less seeing him so you make a clear decision to avoid him or anything that has to do with him. sharing your decision with your friends so that they don't even speak of his existence. your blood boils at the fact that he dared to throw insults and then hurt jungkook, provoking you further. unbeknownst to you, your ex-boyfriend was stuck spending his time in the hospital. so it comes to your surprise when you do see him, his arm is in a cast along with his nose covered in white with bruises surrounding it. he's practically limping with each step he takes. when you two make eye contact, your eyes fidget to your phone to tried to avoid him. ignorance that's made harder when he decides to call after you. you're firm as you continue walking but turn around soon after, when you hear the crutches hitting the floor behind each step you take. he whispers about how you should leave jungkook; that there's something wrong with him. but the annoyed look you give him tells him you won't. "leave me alone," is the only thing you utter and before you know it, he's taking your hand as your about to leave and leaning in closer. "___, he's fucking crazy." the terrified look in his eyes is more than enough to scare you, but you're distracted when your eyes spot jungkook's pained ones.

you don’t hesitate to run after jungkook, leaving your ex behind in a hopeless state. you're not able to catch up, but following the sound of his footsteps is good enough to lead you to the back of the school. "jungkook?" you shout for him, wondering where he was. "why are you fucking talking to him?" his harsh tone has you in a ruined state in no time. jungkook has never talked to you in such a way, your mind tells you it's all your fault he's like this. you go to hug him, but all he does is move back and you notice that the tears in his eyes are gone.

jungkook doesn't like what he saw at all. all your words are nothing to him right now; all he feels is anger and jealousy in him. "talking to that piece of shit after he talked bad about you, after he fucking attacked me." he gulps before continuing with a lower tone, "baby, is there absolutely nothing in that pretty little head of yours? you let him hold your hand even after everything. you let him touch what doesn't belong to him." you're crying at this point, telling jungkook that it meant nothing and you only have eyes for him. it's in that moment a light bulb goes on in his head; he's got you right where he wants you. "prove it." his demand confuses you, a small "how?" leaves your lips. you follow his gaze before realizing what he wanted. "will you forgive me?" you question, the hope evident in your mellow tone. "of course, baby." you're about to get down on your knees before he stops you, "nuh uh, pretty," his fingers playing around with the necklace he gave you, "it's something else that i want. c'mon you got this, put two and two together." a mocking tone as he talks to you in a childlike manner. it's in that moment that you realize where both of you still are: school. you don't know how the information left your head, but you shake your head at jungkook. "we're still at school kook, anyone could see us and we could get in trouble." you speak softly, hoping he agrees with you. your palms feel sweaty at his request. it's like a switch-up when he stays quiet for a while, different to how he acted minutes ago but you don't notice. you watch as his bandaged hand tugs a couple of hairs behind your ear.

jungkook wipes his nose with the same bandaged fist that's covered in blood and his bangs slightly reveal the dark purple bruise on his forehead. "please." he begs with a soft voice and with his pretty eyes, you're convinced enough. you just can't deny him, especially after he fought for you; because of you. jungkook got hurt to protect you from that idiot you once called your boyfriend, and you can't help but blame yourself for it. jungkook ruined his reputation for a stupid fight. it's all your fault, so you let him get closer to you. you let him back you up into the hidden corner outside of the school. you wrap your small hands around his neck and let him kiss you. jungkook pushes you into him, his tongue is quick to explore your own. his saliva drips onto your lips and leaves it all messy. his fingers go to unbutton your white button shirt, undoing the blue collar. "you're so pretty, ___." he whines as he licks up your neck in a hurry and sucks it with need until pinkish skin is shown and teeth marks are left. it doesn't help him that the school uniform looks so good on you. the thigh high blue socks the schools requires only feeds on to his desires. and to top it off, you have to wear a blue (mini-looking) skirt with the basically transparent button shirt. and he can't forget the little decorations that you add on, which only fuels his fantasy to have you under him. a little red bow you add on to your hair and the jewelry you add on to your wrist and neck. especially the one that's wrapped around your neck, a sparkling j in the center.

a clear memory goes through jungkook when he raises the skirt he loves on you because it's not the first time he's gotten a peak at what you hide under that skirt; he's seen it multiple times, even before you two started going out but you don't have to know that. he knows he shouldn't have looked, but you wouldn't have minded. would you? either way, he couldn't help it. jungkook's eyes wandered when he was around you. he would ignore the arm that wrapped around your waist (the douche bag you called your boyfriend) and stare hard as fantasies played in his head. he loves the way your tits are so tight in that stupid shirt. he knows he's a pervert for gawking so hard at your ass when you walk pass him, or sometimes taking a peek at what hides underneath. but, he also wished that it was him that was hugging you and kissing you. it would be his dream come true. and maybe, it was just his luck when he saw your panties as you tripped on some rubbish on the ground. thinking that no one was around, you stayed on the ground for a while; whimpering in pain, knees scraped and legs apart, giving jungkook the perfect view of your covered pussy. you didn't wear shorts underneath your skirt, it's like you wanted him to see you in such an intimate way. he swore he felt drool falling out of the corners of his mouth at the sight. he couldn't stop staring (and definitely couldn't forget) at how your body was spread apart on the ground. jungkook doesn't remember how long he stood there before coming to help you, meanwhile trying to hide the hard-on that was growing in frustration. jungkook definitely had luck on his side that day, because soon after, both of you would start to hang out more. it was enough time to indulge your mind and heart.

when you both started dating, you both sat next to each other in almost all your classes. you let his hands play with the trim of your skirt and caress your upper thigh whenever he wanted. ignoring how each time his fingers inched closer to your panties. you were so nice to him. whenever you bent over the slightest, your skirt was basically hanging off your hips, revealing your cute little panties. and now he gets to see them all over again. "shit," he groans at the ache in his cock. you were so enticing with your white panties and the little bow right on the center that he'll never get tired of. but jungkook's too desperate, so he is quick to tug down the flimsy material. quickly choosing to hide it away in his pockets. breath stuttering at your bare, wet cunt. "___, you're so fucking pretty." his finger slides against your slit, immediately getting soaked. his thumb is quick to follow towards your clit, pinching and teasing it until he hears you start to whimper. he turns to you around to place a messy kiss on your lips, tongue dipping in to touch your own as he takes off his pants desperately. his cock is bulging and has left a mess in his boxers, but he pushes it down.

a sigh leaves his lips when his cock stands straight, hitting his abdomen. you don't even get a look before he turns you again and bends you against the brick wall. you feel your heart pound in your chest. "kookie, anyone could find us," you stutter out, a small glob escaping your gaping hole. 'cute', is all he thinks before pressing his hot cock head against your cunt. "shit baby, i have to bend my knees to reach you," he snickers out loud. he can't help the grin that escapes him out of the realization; you're so small compared to him. his shadow completely covers you under him, his hands are huge compared to yours and he can carry you like you're nothing. he's about to press in when you ask if he has a condom. it makes jungkook remember his trip to the pharmacy days before, staring at the pack of condoms he was going to take as he left the store. it brings back the sick pleasure he had then, the need to fuck you raw and full of him. he stands back to his full stature as he softly whispers an apology that he didn't have a single one. he feels slightly angered at the silence you give him, but you wouldn't know because you face the other way. "s' okay kookie i guess." he taunts you in his head, annoyed that you had him standing with a hard cock like an idiot just to ask him for stupid things.

it's already a painful feeling as he pumps his cock. the slit on his tip has precum dribble out. so in return he chooses not to bend down to your height. his hands grip harder onto your hips, the pressure causing you to fuss and arch your back in response. a shriek of his name and a desperate attempt to hold onto the wall distracts you as he lifts you up to the height of his hips by wrapping one arm around your stomach. his other hand directs his drooling cock head into your pussy. as he forces his dick in, your mouth widens as a silent moan escapes you. the tip of his cock is thick and hot. you can hear him pant heavily, calling you sweet names as he watches with heavy eyes as he keeps pushing in until his hips meet your own and the tip shoves right up against your womb.

you can feel tears in your eyes at the way his fat cock is nestled deep inside your cunt. the veins that run down him are perfect and his length excites you. jungkook curses silently as he sees his cock getting drenched off the globs of your slimy slick. he's speechless on how good your pussy feels, surprised he's not busting a nut so far. all he knows is that he'd get on his knees over and over to get just a look at your cunt. it doesn't help that you're practically hanging off his cock, back bending so beautifully to reach him, while your tits are begging to spill out your half-opened shirt. it makes him smug knowing that you could fall if he simply let go of your hips. your legs are dangling mid-air as he fucks you deep and slow for the couple first thrusts before completely switching into a different pace. he feels heavy inside your cunt. all you can think about is him, each time jungkook rams his cock head directly into your sweet spot.

your tiny mouth lets out the dirtiest sultry noises he's ever heard. you sob about how his cock is too big. "kookie," you wail as his cock easily pokes and pushes against your sweet spot and cervix at the same time. you feel the heat from his angry tip that oozes out more chunks of precum, reminding you that he isn't wearing a condom. but you're left dumb with your eyes rolled back when his fingers tease your bud in a hurried pace. jungkook feels your walls squeeze tight on him and it causes a throaty groan to leave his lips. "wet my cock, my pretty baby" he mutters. you shake as jungkook continues stretching your pussy hole out. and with an airless moan, you squirt your juices on his abdomen and the base of his cock. his eyes fill with curiosity at the wetness he feels leak all down his cock and thighs. "s-so perfect for me. little hole gonna be gaping when i leave it. gonna stuff you full of me, isn't that want you want? my little dumb girlfriend wants me to fill her with my cum." jungkook can't help but moan at how your pussy swallows him whole, accepting every inch of him in your hot walls even if he's bigger than you can handle. "gonna be my cock sleeve, perfect for it. wet, little cunt s' clenching around me like a bitch in heat."

he feels the heat crawl up to his face, and it doesn't help that the sweat on his forehead makes his hair stick to his face. he smells your perfume as it begins to stick on him and he fucking loves it. loves that he can grab a full fist of your hair and the only thing you'll do is cry out his name and wet his cock over and over as he goes faster. jungkook leans down to place sloppy kisses down your back, nearing your ear to whisper dirty words that have your cunt clenching tighter around him. the moans you let loose are loud and messy, forgetting your still in school. "people should see how good my baby takes cock, can't compare with no one else, right?" a question you don't answer, or can barely make out with how loud your ass smacks against him. "pussy so filthy and tight, ready to take my cock at anytime and anywhere." you're about to release all over again when jungkook stops to slowly pull back his hips. you whine in frustration, but soon forget when he drags his cock back into your cunt, making sure you feel each vein and curve.

the breathy whines you let out almost drown out the lewd squelches of the bottom of his shaft meeting your bare pussy. jungkook can't hold back the huff, "oh, fuck yes. cute cunt leaking just for me, sucking me right back in," his jaw clenches at how wet you are. each time he sank further, his pace began to pick up with an impatient desire to fuck you harder. "my good girlfriend, s' pretty when she's desperate for cock, my cock." he says mockingly.

"i'm gonna cum," you gasp out with each word. jungkook's fingers make their way to your lips, passing them to reach your tongue. "me too," is all he says before pulling out once more to turn you around and place you right back on his cock. "you look s' fucked out, baby," he whispers with a smug smile on his face, "pussy gonna be nice and stuffed with my cum, yeah?" he's quick to connect your lips together as you squirt from the overstimulation, hiding his desperate groans. you feel his cock spill warm loads of his cum inside you. small curses coming out of his mouth as he continues to runt against you, slobs of cum still leaking into you. you moan at the globs of cum slide down your inner thighs and onto the ground. his voice is soft when he talks to you and carefully holds you onto him. "you're so good to me; my good girlfriend, yeah?" he ignores the way you trace his dark bruises and brushes your hair out. he'll never let that stupid fuck get close to you again. it's not that he's scared of him, but rather of what nonsense he's gonna say. it's best if you don't know that jungkook started the fight, that he went home and hurt himself to make the bruises etched into his skin; smacking his head against the wall until he bled and couldn't think of anything but you and slammed one of his dad's metal tools against his hands to have you next to him, cause jungkook would really do anything for you.

"jungkook, what are you thinking about?" your voice breaks him out of train of thought, "about us." he responds without hesitation, because really, when is he not. his hands rub your waist, slowly taking you onto his lap. you smile at him and it's like he's in love all over again with you. and he hopes you feel the same as he takes his left hand into yours, "i want us to be together forever, ___." you watch the way his doe eyes show you all the love he has for you. you're lucky you've always had jungkook be this affectionate. he's always willing to take you out to a restaurant on late nights, picnics almost every week during the summer, and it's always refreshing to be with him. never once has he failed you, so you can't help the heart-warming feeling in you right now, watching a smile break through his face when you agree with him. "i've loved you from the very start, and i can't wait until we start a new chapter together," he pauses for a while, holding you tighter against his chest, "and you know that i've always wanted to put a ring on your finger, and if you're ready, i'll be more than happy to give you any ring you want." your lips find their way to his as you kiss him with everything you have, "i love you jungkook."

he doesn't even have a chance to respond before you're kissing him again, because you know that he does love you. it's in his eyes; his smile; in everything he does. you're shown love through every gesture he does, like the tattoo he surprised you with last week. big, pretty letters that are deeply inked into the skin of his chest for eternity. these pretty letters that make your name and are surrounded by the soft-feathered wings of beautiful angels. his tattooed hands dig into your hips, angling you on top of his hardened cock. his hand grabbing your jaw, squishing your cheeks and lips as you move your loose shorts to the side. with a harsh tug, jungkook's sweatpants end up at his knees. there's a big pearl of precum on his head, slightly leaking down his base. at the sight, you feel your cunt pulse. jungkook's hands massage your ass as he makes his way back up to unclip your bra. jungkook pumps his cock with your hands, cooing at how small they are. he pushes himself inside your swollen cunt, and it's hard to control himself when your tiny cunt violently clamps around his thick base, taking all of him in. you're moaning desperately into his ear distracting him from your painted nails leaving deep red marks on his abdomen. his lips wrap themselves around you tits, leaving trails of saliva behind before kissing the spots.

"faster, kookie," you cry out as you feel your orgasm at the pit of your stomach. your ass repeatedly meets his pelvis with a burning pain. you're begging for release when his thumb plays with your nub and his mouth is sucking your tits. "little hole dripping all around me, ain't that right baby," a shaky gasp he lets out while his cock makes you reach your high. tears roll down your cheeks at the overstimulation when he grinds himself into your sopping cunt. "gonna make a mess in this pussy," he groans before shoving his warm load deep inside your sore cunt. a little gasp escapes your mouth at how stuffed your tummy is.

just as your hands begin to slide off his shoulders, ready to fix yourself up, jungkook pulls you in close enough that your chest is touching his. you can't even speak when he begins to softly pound into your spent pussy which has you whimpering. there's a cocky grin on his face that you want to wipe off, but it's hard when your oversensitivity makes you weak. with a faint call of his name, jungkook finally halts his sensual motions with a replaced giddy smile, "i love having you in my arms."

as the minutes past, he takes note of your sleepy head dozing off into his neck. jungkook envelopes you into a cozy cuddle as he watches the blarring tv whilst his racing mind drags on with repeated memories of the past; haunting reminders that should never be brought up. he digs his head into your hair, fingers gently kneading into your scalp making his beating heart calm its pace. everything he's done was for you. the thing is jungkook can't limit himself when he's around you. it's a suffocating feeling that indulges every ounce of his body. it fills him with a need to protect you, and it makes him go mad in the head sometimes. it causes him to commit foolish acts of violence against those who he thinks have a role in your life. though, he's gotten better with the persistent idea of becoming a better man for you; a better future husband; a better future father. jungkook's lips turn up at the ends at the sleepy noises you make. "i love you."

[sttoru]

⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. fluff. happy family moment t_t

“she said whaaaat? no way!”

you were scrolling on your phone in the living room when you heard that familiar voice pierce through the comfortable silence — satoru’s voice, a bit more high pitched this time, almost like he couldn’t believe what he had heard.

your boyfriend was over at your parents’ place for the first time and seemed to get along just fine with your mother in the kitchen. you could hear their giggles and gasps every now and then whilst your body was resting on the couch.

their voices were getting louder by the minute, thus you decide to stand up and go check on them. you reach the doorstep and instantly smile at the heartwarming scene that greets you;

your mother chopping up some vegetables, chuckling whilst excitedly telling her recent gossips to satoru, who was leaning back against the kitchen counter next to her — his arms crossed and those pretty dimples of his apparent on his face as he carefully listens to your mother’s stories.

“seems like you two are getting along well already, eh?” you chuckle after observing them for a little while longer. your presence instantly make satoru smile even more (if that were even possible), his eyes glimmering at the sight of you;

“hey, baby!” the white-haired man walks over to you and hugs you tightly before letting go, though his hand remains at your waist. the grin on his face widens, “your mother has the most juiciest of gossips that i’ve ever heard around town, i’m telling ya — stuff’s got me absolutely hooked.”

your mother responds to that with a short giggle. she glances up from her cutting board and sends you a look — one that emits her approval of the lover you’ve chosen. it seems like satoru’s charming personality succeeded into mellowing even your parents’ hearts.

“heh, i do actually believe that.” you nod with your own cheeky grin. your mother was like a newspaper — you always hear all the recent stories and gossips from her.

it’s no wonder satoru instantly clicked with her; if it isn’t your mother you’re gossiping with, it would usually be that cheeky sorcerer instead. he’s a great listener after all, his reactions are priceless to you.

you move over to stand next to your mother and decide to help her out with cutting up the veggies. satoru starts to search the area in hopes to find an apron for himself, though was quickly interrupted by the gruff voice of your dad echoing through the house;

“satoru, c’mere, boy! help an old man out.”

you were a bit surprised that your dad was specifically asking for satoru to go help him (your mom as well; however she knowingly snickers afterwards).

you can’t remember the last time your father had directly asked help from someone he barely knew. sometimes he wouldn’t even ask your mother or you for help. that’s how stubborn your dad is.

or, was — satoru’s an exception, it seems like.

your boyfriend was also a bit stunned — though not in a bad way at all. the corners of his lips curl up in a fond smile, his blue eyes shining ever so brightly due to the feeling of being needed and accepted in this household. his beloved’s household.

it felt like he had achieved all he wanted in life — hell, satoru was ready to risk it all and ask for your hand in marriage right then and there; that’s how joyous and confident this moment made him.

“coming, sir!” satoru calls out. you could’ve sworn his voice cracked a tad bit, however you decide not to comment on it. your boyfriend turns around with the biggest grin on his face and quickly goes to stand between your mother and you.

one of his hands rests on your waist, the other on your mom’s shoulder as he places a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. a rush of warmth surged through his body as he saw you look up at him with those captivating and pretty eyes, making satoru feel even more content than he already was —

“i’ll be right back. if you ladies need a helping hand, just give me a holler.” satoru says and smoothly steals a kiss on your cheek before hurrying towards your father, whose voice sounded from the bathroom.

there was a spring in his step. a positive change in his already ethereal looks as you watch him disappear from the room. you shake your head and chuckle at satoru’s excitement. you knew exactly what he was feeling, because you felt the same once you realised just how fast your parents seemed to accept and approve of him;

relieved, comfortable and happy.

[n0tamused]

Sorry if this request is strange but I'm curious as to what you think Jiyan, Jinhsi, Geshulin and Mortefi would look like if they became dragons? What type of dragon would they be, how big and anything interesting!

Wuthering Waves characters as dragons!

A/n: YESSSSSSSS. Worry not anon, your request is not strange at all! I did give myself go to also visualize what I think they'd look like as dragons, along with some headcanons and a size chart at the end. I do hope you like this :) please enjoy my mind worms talking about the dragon hyperfixation lol All art here was done by me, do not use without permission/credit

Contents: Dragon Wuwa characters, Jiyan, Geshu Lin, Jinhsi and Mortefi x reader (separate), fluff, a bit of angst if you squint really hard, grammar mistakes probably bc I'm like that

Jiyan:

-Jiyan is one of the bigger dragons, but his strength lies more so in endurance and perseverance rather than just brute strength

-His scales are smoother and look softer even, and when light passes over them they look a bit like fish scales with the way they glimmer

-Personality wise, as a dragon he is about the same as his human self, easy going and calm. Unless provoked or called to battle, you will scarcely ever see hostility from him, if ever at all. He does often linger near places where danger would be lurking, earning himself the title of a guardian very easily and early on. He just seems to have the sixth sense for trouble, and he can’t get himself to turn a blind eye to any suffering of his people

-Besides being battle ready and such, it is said his presence does have a calming aura with it, some dare say that it even heals the person to some extent. His scales, when ground up, have healing properties, and Jiyan does not lack generosity for that either.

-He has stepped into service of the territory as a young dragon, and a part of that youthful naivety still lingers in him, although he has grown wiser - he still blindly believes in that good of the world. One day it will all pass, the evil will be no more, and Jiyan will retrieve to some distant corner where, somewhere high up from where he can watch the lands and bask in the sun, all the past troubles now lost to memory

-His fur is really fluffy although a bit coarse to the touch, it protects him as much as it servers a more aesthetic side of his dragon. He takes good care of it, and doesn’t like it getting mangled. He gladly lets you help him with it too, if you have the strength to comb through all of it lol

-He does have a taste for swimming, both to remain clean but also active. He does running enough, and swimming is a fun activity that takes his weight off of his legs. However he does not like the sea, the salty water makes him icky

-The jewelry he wears and the armor was all gifted to him by important people in his life and fellow dragons, he wears them with pride and let’s them give him courage in trying times

-If you are a dragon too, or a human he values a lot and keeps close, he makes for a great cuddle buddy. He is long and when he curls up, it’s as if he made a bed in the middle of this little spiral for you to lay in. He is very peaceful and really likes the time spent with you.

-If you are a human and he is in this giant dragon form, he acts as if you’re an ant underfoot, which honestly you are, seeing how tiny you are compared to his claws alone, and he is quite worried he may hurt you or god forbid step on you

-He steps around you gingerly, always having an eye out for you so he knows where not to step or trudge to close to

-Preferably he’d have you riding on his back or on top of his head, there’s more than enough space there

-Seeing as he is a dragon most of the time, doing his work, it is rare you’ll catch him in his human form a lot, but when you do he relishes in your touch. Nuzzling in your neck and breathing in your scent as if he was starved of it. 

Geshu Lin:

-A war dragon through and through. Born and bred for battle.

-Although his species is related to Jiyan and Jinhsi's, he does share similar features to the winged dragons of the New Federation. Tough scales and spikes line his entire body, acting as both a weapon and a shield to himself against other enemies. His body is lined with scars and scratches, old and new, displaying his long years of service and experience in battle.

-He has half of a whisker missing on his left side 

-The jewelry he wears is a memorial of people he long lost in battle, although some believe he also looted the pieces of another dragon he triumphed over in war.

-He is a formidable beast and willful, he’s not someone to be trifled with. Some say he has learned to manipulate flames on the battlefield. But whether that is true or not, everyone has grown to fear the pale beast of Jinzhou.

-Due to his long years spent on the battlefield he has become an uneasy individual to be with or hold a conversation with, and his nights are often plagued with unrest or nightmares, he can never seem to rest easy. Only battle can make his mind escape the troubles of his other days, and for a little while it all seems to make the world stop - and he can finally breathe again

-Due to this, the medics that were close enough to realize this, suggested he wears protective amulets and papers with prayer written onto them in hopes that such would ease his mind. Time is yet to tell if these ever worked, or if Geshu Lin was touched by this moment of care from others

-It is said you were the only one that could bring him peace of mind, even if all you did was simply linger in the camp or near him. Geshu Lin did have a knack for always beckoning you close - just sit beside him, it will be enough. Sometimes you two would take to a more secluded place in the mountains, still overlooking the battlefield, but far away so no one could see. And he’d lay down, his body falling and rumbling through the ground while he exhaled heavily. He naps, letting you do as you please. If you wish to sit on his back he is not one to deny it, or if you want to sleep beside him, all the better. He has full confidence he can and will defend you if someone dares to sneak up on you two

-Geshu Lin rarely goes back to his human form. He has grown to dislike how weak that vessel can be, and how little it can do for the war cause, so he has all but abandoned it.

-If he does return back to human form, it would be to pass through some tunnel most likely than not, or to talk to some human captain back in the city on the rare occasions he goes back for meetings or to give his report. He is more grumpy in this form, he doesn’t like it - it makes him feel weak. People have learned to respect this side of him, although some genuinely fear him too and keep their distance away from him at all cost

-During one particular battle where even he was overwhelmed, he disappeared, leaving behind a long, thick trail of blood and fallen enemies to litter each end of the battlefield, but no one ever found him, no matter how much they followed the red line. It was odd for such a giant beast to simply vanish. Some speculated he died, but others argued that if he was truly dead, his remains would have been found by now. So, now he makes for a great ghost tale among the people. Some say that if you go to an old battlefield, you can hear his growling and snarling underneath the cracked and blood soaked earth

Jinhsi:

-Most beloved of dragons and, as the word has it, the most powerful among the dragons. She may not be as big as the battle dragons of the land, or most formidable looking, but do not let looks deceive you. She has protected her lands in her own ways, and none of them were easy

-She does not lack in wisdom and knowledge, but to her closest companions she did express doubt over her capabilities on a handful of occasions.

-Jinhsi looks like the embodiment of the snowy mountains and the glaciers that can be found around Mt. Firmament. Soft flowing fur that hugs her neck like a thick mane, and the long tuft of fur on her tail is faded to a blue. Sometimes, people say they can see snowflakes on her fur, flowing from it and melting when they touch the ground

-She often floats instead of walking, holding an air of elegance and regality about her wherever she goes. Her claws are faded gold and she has two golden stars on top of her forehead, the third one hidden underneath the fur

-The people often do bring gifts as offerings to her, some which she declines if she sees the person offering it needs it more than she does. 

-During the year she will descend down to her land of people and bring her own gifts - sometimes a few days of cool air during summer droughts, or easier snows during long winters, other times she only brings her presence when the people feel uneasy due to wars happening outside the borders. A lot of times she holds an audience in the main plaza, giving her advice to the towns people and even travelers from distant lands

-Jinhsi assists in the war mostly by gaining intelligence, giving strategies to the generals and captains, and while she does know how to fight, she saves her strength for the city, should all outside forces fall.

-She is one made for solitude, or at least that is the nature of her duty, and not many people actually see her face-to-face or outside of her duty which seems to be never ending, 24/7

-She rarely sleeps, and some say she doesn’t even need to sleep. Her Grace only needs the love and trust of her people to give her strength - or so the tale would say

-She is still young in terms of dragon years, but for her age she has grown a lot. Her scales are still soft, smooth running across her pale body.

-She doesn’t often let anyone near her den, which the people have decorated so beautifully with gifts, gems, silk and much more. She would let you in, secretly during the night when you both can have the reprieve of the watchful eyes of guards or civilians. She lets you talk, listening attentively as she rests her worn body

-She purrs in her sleep sometimes, long soft groans in her throat that seem like a bunch of gentle bees caught and wrapped in cotton and linen and then pressed to your ear to help you sleep.

-She doesn’t often go in her human form, much like Geshu Lin - it makes her vulnerable. And as someone of high status as her, it would be wise to avoid any vulnerability. She’d rather not risk being caught unaware with a blade in her heart or at her throat

-In human form she seems to be more slow in her movement, perhaps due to not using the vessel so much or due to exhaustion the long years of duty have taken upon her, but she is aware of every sound around her and often knows you are there before you even announce yourself

Mortefi:

-A rare dragon in these lands, as not many New Federation dragons can be found so far from their home. They aren't nomads by any means, and prefer to stick to their land of origin.

-Yet, Mortefi is unlike what gossip would describe him or his kind as. Fanatical and obsessive over technology, that part he shares in common with his peers, but he is nowhere near as greedy. He does not hoard his knowledge in a pile, hiding away from the people for all eternity, nor is he as aggressive as his kind usually is, especially to strangers.

-While he truly is a loner, having made himself a home far from the central city and keeping it tidy and perfect for his high standards, he doesn’t shy from contact if he runs into someone else

-He’d much rather he didn’t run into them, but what does he have to be scared of? His scales can barely be pierced and fire does him no harm, what could anyone do to him? And conversation he doesn't fear either. It is unlike that someone knows something he doesn't already, but a little bit of back and forth hurt no one.

-He is the only one here to breathe fire, and his flames are strong red with streaks of orange. Geshu Lin does have some power of manipulating purple flames but they don't seem to have the same source, he doesn't breathe fire like Mortefi.

-He has quite a lot of witty remarks if some curious wanderer stops by his territory, and eventually he chases them off with his banter as the other person simply can’t handle his jargon and analogies - some even directed at them 

-What some don’t know though, is that Mortefi has kept guard over the most naive and vulnerable ones of their community. The children that returned to the cities and villages after being lost for days, only returned when he found them. Often with a little trinket in hand. He may not like the adults as much, but children he can’t fault for their naive outlook on the world or their curiosity. He was once a child too, full of wonder and spark that he believes he lost, he hasn’t felt it in years. His own upbringing left a hole in his chest, that spark once filled that hole, but now it’s gone

-He doesn’t like when people enter his abode, and he likes it even less when they touch his things. Those may be the only times you see him be so enraged - he has quite the specific way of sorting things, you see, and he keeps it all clean too, so don’t touch it. He hasn’t spent so long sorting it all out, building his craft and honing his skills just for you to put it out of place

-In terms of size, at the present he is the smallest of the dragons listed here, but he is awfully slow growing. Longevity is one of the qualities that marks his kind, so this isn’t out of place for him. He will grow, but it will take long years to get to the size some of his elders in the New Federation are at.

-Mortefi is someone who indulges in his human form more than any other, preferring human hands to do his experiments than his big dragon claws, although both have their merit in their own ways

-He works quickly, and long nights are often spent at the table of his abode, making yet another craft, be it for the children or for his own self-given quests for knowledge

-He does keep you away while he is working, but ever since you wormed your way into his heart, he could never keep you too far off. He can feel you lingering nearby, watching him work sometimes, and he doesn’t mind. He also realizes how happier he is to explain his process when you ask, the hole in his chest slowly being made full once more

Size chart:

Geshu Lin is the biggest of them all, but Jiyan isn't too far behind

Jinhsi is bigger than Mortefi although Mortefi has more mass to him, he is very chunky

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[natsaffection]

Lines crossed. Pt. 2 | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: 18+! Fluffy Smut (fingering and oral), talk about past, scars

Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: Okay, since the first part exploded and many people wanted a sequel, the second part is now here!

Part 1

The first light of dawn filtered through the rain-streaked windows, casting a soft glow over Natasha’s apartment. The storm had passed, leaving a quiet stillness in its wake. Natasha stirred from where she had been sitting, her eyes red and heavy with exhaustion. She had stayed by your side all night, watching over you, making sure your condition didn’t worsen.

You lay on the couch, covered by a warm blanket. Your breathing was steadier now, though your face still bore the marks of pain and fatigue. Natasha stood up quietly, stretching her stiff muscles before heading to the kitchen to make some coffee.

The aroma of fresh coffee filled the room, and the sound of the percolator seemed to rouse you from your restless sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings before your gaze settled on Natasha. She approached with a mug in her hand, her expression a mix of relief and concern.

“Morning,” Natasha said softly, handing you the mug. “How are you feeling?” You winced as you shifted to sit up, accepting the mug with a grateful nod. “I’ve been better,” you replied, your voice raspy. “Thanks for… everything.”

Natasha sat down on the edge of the coffee table, her eyes searching yours. “You gave me quite a scare last night. Do you remember what happened?”

You took a sip of the coffee, the warmth soothing your throat. “Yeah… I was outnumbered. I thought I could handle it, but…” You glanced down at the bandages on your side, your expression darkening. “Guess I miscalculated.”

Natasha’s eyes softened. “You’re lucky to be alive. Those wounds were serious.” You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I know. I just… didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Natasha reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “You did the right thing coming here. I’m glad you did.” You looked up at her, a hint of vulnerability in your eyes. “I’m not used to asking for help. It’s not… easy for me.”Natasha nodded, understanding. “I know. But you don’t have to do this alone. We can help you. I can help you.”

You hesitated, the weight of your past actions pressing heavily on you. “But what about S.H.I.E.L.D.? The Avengers? They won’t just forget everything I’ve done.”

Natasha’s expression hardened with determination. “We’ll figure it out. But first, you need to heal. Then we can talk about what comes next.” You nodded slowly, the reality of your situation sinking in. “I don’t know if I can ever make things right, Natasha.”

Natasha squeezed your arm gently. “It’s not going to be easy, but you’re not beyond redemption. We all have our demons. The important thing is that you’re willing to try.”You met her gaze, the flicker of hope in your eyes growing a little stronger. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For not giving up on me.”

Natasha smiled, her eyes warm. “You know,” she began, her voice soft, “I also wasn’t always this person. I used to be someone very different. My past… it wasn’t pretty.” You looked at her, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

“I was trained to be an assassin,” Natasha said, her eyes distant as she recalled her past. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. But then, I was given a second chance. Someone believed I could be more than what I was trained to be. They saw something in me worth saving.” You listened intently, feeling a connection forming. “And you changed?”

Natasha nodded. “It wasn’t easy. It took time, and I had to face a lot of my demons. But I did it. And if I could do it, so can you.” Her words resonated deeply within you, giving you a glimmer of hope. “I want to believe that,” you said quietly. “I really do.”

Natasha’s gaze softened, and she leaned in a little closer. “You’re already taking the first steps by being here. That’s more than enough for now.”

Without thinking, driven by a sudden surge of emotion, you leaned in and pressed your lips to Natasha’s. The kiss was gentle but filled with desperation and gratitude. For a moment, Natasha froze, and panic set in. You pulled back, your eyes wide with fear that you had ruined everything. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you stammered, your heart pounding. “I shouldn’t have—”

But before you could finish, Natasha cupped your face in her hands and kissed you back, her lips soft and warm against yours. The kiss deepened, filled with unspoken promises and a shared understanding of pain and redemption.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Natasha’s eyes held a mix of emotions, but there was no anger, only acceptance. You stared into her eyes, feeling a connection that you had never felt before. The room seemed to close in, and the outside world faded away. All that mattered was the two of you in that moment.

Driven by a mix of gratitude and the need to repay her for her kindness, you leaned in again, kissing her more deeply this time. Your hands found their way to her shoulders, pulling her closer. Natasha responded, but with a controlled intensity that made your heart race.

“I kinda want to repay you..” You said and Natasha pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with emotion. “You don’t owe me anything,” she said firmly, though her voice was gentle. “But if this is what you want… then let me take care of you.”

Natasha’s hands moved to the hem of your shirt, but she paused, glancing at your bandaged side. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asked, concern evident in her voice. “I am,” you replied, your voice steady. “Just… be careful.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, and she carefully lifted your shirt over your head, her touch both gentle and firm. She ran her hands down your sides, avoiding the bandaged wound, her fingers sending shivers through your body.

You reached out to touch her, but Natasha gently pushed your hands away, a smirk playing on her lips. “Let me,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding.

You felt a thrill of excitement and a hint of frustration. “What if I want to take care of you?” you challenged, your voice breathy. Natasha’s eyes flashed with amusement and something darker. “We’ll see about that,” she replied, her tone teasing but firm.

She leaned in, kissing you again, her hands exploring your body with a careful yet possessive touch. Her lips trailed down your neck, making you gasp softly. You felt her fingers brush against the scars on your chest, and you tensed slightly.

“You’re beautiful,” Natasha murmured against your skin, her words sending a warm flush through you. “Every part of you.”

You relaxed under her touch, feeling safe and cherished. Natasha’s hands moved with expert precision, caressing and teasing until you were trembling with need. She was rough enough to assert her dominance but always mindful of your injuries, never pushing you too far.

“G-God..” you moaned softly, your hands gripping the couch cushions as she continued to drive you wild with her touch. “Shh,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

You surrendered completely, allowing Natasha to guide you. Her movements were a perfect blend of roughness and tenderness, making you feel desired and protected at the same time. She kissed her way down your body again, exploring everywhere, her touch igniting a fire within you.

You couldn’t deny how good her touch felt. Natasha continued to explore your body, her hands and mouth leaving a trail of sensations that made your head spin. She was rough enough to keep you on edge but always careful, never letting you forget that she was in control.

When she finally moved lower, her hands parting your legs, you gasped, your body arching towards her. “Natasha,” you breathed, your hands reaching for her.

She held your gaze, her eyes dark with desire. Your breath hitching as she moved closer. Natasha’s touch was both commanding and gentle, her fingers exploring you with a skill that left you trembling. She brought you to the edge, holding you there, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely a whisper. “I need you.” Natasha’s lips curved into a smile. “Patience,” she murmured, her touch driving you wild. When she finally took you over the edge, it was with a fierce intensity that left you breathless and trembling.

You cried out, your body arching towards her, your hands gripping the couch cushions as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Natasha held you through it, her touch gentle now, soothing you as you came down from the high. She pulled you into her arms, holding you close, her lips brushing against your forehead.

She kissed you again, her lips soft and inviting. You could feel the fire reignite within you as her hands roamed your body with renewed fervor. She leaned back slightly, her eyes meeting yours with a dark intensity. “Ready for more?” she whispered, her voice husky. You nodded, your breath hitching. “Yes… please.”

Natasha smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she resumed her exploration. She kissed her way down your neck, her hands caressing your sensitive skin. Her touch was both commanding and tender, igniting every nerve ending as she moved lower.

You gasped as Natasha’s fingers found their way between your thighs, her touch electric. She moved with a deliberate pace, building you up again with expert precision. The tension within you coiled tighter and tighter, the need for release almost unbearable.

Natasha leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. “Come for me, Y/n, come on..“ she commanded softly, her voice sending shivers down your spine. With a cry of pleasure, you came undone beneath her touch, your body arching towards her as waves of ecstasy crashed over you again. Natasha held you close, her hands steadying you as you trembled in her arms.

When you finally came down from the high, Natasha kissed you softly, her eyes filled with warmth and satisfaction. “You did so well,” she murmured, her voice soothing.

You lay there in the aftermath, your breath slowly returning to normal. Natasha’s arms around you felt like the safest place in the world. She glanced down at you, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Y/n,” Natasha began softly, her fingers tracing the scars on your body. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s a long story,” you murmured, your voice tinged with sadness. “I wasn’t always like this. I had a family once. A sister. She was everything to me." Natasha listened intently, her hand gently stroking your hair. "What happened?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "She got involved with some bad people. Tried to help her, but it was too late. They... they killed her. The police did nothing. They said it was an accident, but I knew better. I saw the bruises, the fear in her eyes. I knew she was in trouble, and no one was willing to help."

Natasha's eyes softened with understanding. "So you took matters into your own hands." You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "I couldn't let those monsters walk free. I couldn't let anyone else suffer like she did. So I started hunting them, taking down the ones who hurt innocent people. It became my mission, my way of coping with the loss."

Natasha pulled you closer, her embrace comforting. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. No one should have to go through that." You sniffled, wiping away a tear. "I know what I did was wrong, but I felt like I had no other choice. I had to do something."

Natasha nodded, her voice gentle. "I understand now. Your intentions were good, but the methods were extreme. But we need to find a better way." You looked up at her, a glimmer of hope in your eyes. "Do you really think it's possible?"

Natasha smiled softly. "I do. But it's going to take time and effort. And you're not alone in this. I'll be with you every step of the way."

The next few days passed quietly. Natasha helped you regain your strength, providing a safe space for you to heal. She was always there, offering support and understanding. You found yourself opening up more, sharing stories and fears you had kept buried for so long.

One evening, as the two of you were sitting on the couch, Natasha turned to you, her expression serious. "Y/n, there's something I need to tell you."

You looked at her, sensing the gravity in her tone. "What is it?" Natasha took a deep breath. "Don’t be mad, but I called Fury. He's on his way here."

Your heart raced, a surge of panic rising within you. "What?! Why? I thought-“ Natasha raised her hands, trying to calm you. "No, listen. He's coming alone, and he wants to listen to you. I explained your situation, and he agreed to hear you out."

A short while later, there was a knock at the door. Natasha stood up, giving you a reassuring nod before opening it. Fury entered, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding.

"Romanoff," Fury greeted, his gaze shifting to you. "Y/n." You swallowed hard, trying to steady your nerves. "Director."

Fury sat down across from you, his eye fixed on you with an intensity that made you shiver. "Natasha tells me you want to make things right. I’m all ears.“

You took a deep breath, recounting your story, your motivations, and the reasons behind your actions. Fury listened intently, his expression unreadable.

When you finished, there was a heavy silence. Fury leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "You've taken the law into your own hands. That's a dangerous path.“

You nodded, "I know what I did was wrong. But to all respect..Do you know what it’s like to watch innocent people suffer because the system is too slow or too corrupt to act? To see those people walking free because they can afford good lawyers? I did what I did because someone had to.”

Fury sighed, his expression softening slightly. "You're a fighter, Y/n. I can respect that. But you need to learn to fight the right way." You looked up, surprised by his words. "What do you mean?"

Fury glanced at Natasha before continuing. "You want justice? Fine. We'll give you a chance to prove yourself. You'll work for us, under supervision. Help us take down the real threats, the ones that slip through the cracks. But you step out of line, and it's over. Understand?"

The weight of his words settled on you. This was it, a chance to prove yourself, but also a heavy responsibility. You glanced at Natasha, who gave you an encouraging nod. "I understand," you said firmly. "Thank you..“

"Good," Fury said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. Don't make me regret this."

---

As you walked through the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, you felt the eyes of agents on you, their expressions a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and, in some cases, outright hostility. You tried to ignore the whispers and the glares, focusing on the promise you had made to Fury and to yourself.

Natasha guided you to a conference room where the Avengers were gathered. The room fell silent as you entered, every eye on you, again.“

"Everyone, this is Y/n," Natasha began, her voice steady. "She'll be working with us from now on." Tony was the first to speak, his tone skeptical. "So, we're just supposed to trust her now?"

"I know it's a lot to ask," Natasha replied, her gaze steady. "But she's here to make things right. And Fury's given her a chance. We need to give her one, too."

Steve stepped forward, his expression serious. "It's not going to be easy. You'll have to earn our trust. But if Natasha believes in you, that's a good start."

You nodded, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. "I know I have a lot to prove. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "I won't let you down." Natasha guided you to a room in the living quarters. It was small but comfortable, a far cry from the places you had been staying in recently.

"This is your room," Natasha said, her voice softening. "It's not much, but it's a start." You looked around, feeling a strange mix of emotions. "No, it's perfect.."

Natasha placed a hand on your shoulder. "Remember, you're not alone. We're in this together." You nodded, feeling a sense of hope for the first time in a long while. "I know. And I won't forget it."

As you settled into your new room, the reality of your situation began to sink in. The road to redemption would be long and difficult, but with Natasha's support and the chance to prove yourself, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And as you lay down to rest, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your life. A chapter filled with hope, determination, and the promise of a better future.

-

-

-

-

@mrsrushman @lOnelyish @imnotslouching @a-colletion-of-cells

[ask-the-pioneer]

"I've always been captivated by them. Something about the shiny exterior, how they glimmer when you tumble them around in your hands. My younger self would obsess about them, a childlike fascination. Even back then I instinctively knew they had value. My mom would use pearls I found to pay for a safe passage at scavenger tolls. We tried to bypass those points as much as we could, but sometimes it was unavoidable."

"It's a looong story…. I was found roaming the wilderness by my mentor, who brought me to er, an entity, called an interator. Do you know of iterators? Apparently they are what was left of an ancient civilization that once inhabited these lands. I couldn't wrap my head around it at first. Iterators are massive, absolutely huge, like mountains. Do you see that big structure of a regular, smooth shape?"

[She points towards Five Pebble's can in the distance]

"That is an iterator's «superstrucute». A mountain, the entire thing… is a person. It still sounds crazy when I say it."

"Ah, right, my name… like I mentioned, I got lost and my mentor found me. He brought me to his iterator. If my memory serves me right, his name is «No Significant Harassment», or NSH for short. I recall thinking at that time, «Harassment? I hope he won't be cruel to me». I had no concept of iterator names, their meaning, why it's three or however many words long. It was incredibly confusing to my young mind, though looking back at it I consider myself very lucky. The iterator was, dare I say, «god-like» (his own words), but benevolent. I saw how well he treated Hunter – my mentor – and it made me trust him more, even though I was scared and wary in the beginning."

"Would you believe it if I told you… there are stories written inside the pearls? That those things I’ve been obsessing about all my life are used for storing information? I had many of them leftover from when I lived at a scavenger outpost. One cycle, NSH noticed my interest, and – I wish Hunter had told me about this sooner, but – the iterator shot at my head with something…? And suddenly I could understand everything he said. Not that he said much, because I started crying loudly and ran straight out of there, haha. But before I bolted, he gave me one of his pearls as consolation. I think he felt bad for the scared little me."

"After that, he would eagerly read all the pearls I brought to him. That is how I learned more about the culture of the peoples who were here before me: the Ancients, their customs, why the iterators were built, and much more. It was like the knowledge of the entire world was suddenly revealed to me – to a seemingly insignificant being, a tiny speck in an endless ocean of life. It both made me feel very important, and very small. And, yeah, it has intensified my obsession with pearls beyond mortal limits. What if I could write into a pearl? I could archive the history of my entire species! All the stories my mom told me when I was small? All the places I’ve been to? Or other scugs have been to…"

[Her eyes widen, sparkling with glee]

"Y-yeah… that would be nice… sadly I am what I am – a slugcat. I don’t know how to do this very advanced stuff at all. I have no means of doing this. I once asked NHS for help, but there’s only so much he could guess from my frantic signing. I don’t think he understood me, in the end. But he did appreciate my efforts, and I was given a title – the Pioneer, like a person who is the very first to explore something uncharted. Apparently no slugcat before me thought of reading from or writing into pearls? I find it a little hard to believe."

"This one! This is a very special kind of pearl – it contains an ancient poem from which my name originated. See, my name was a gift from NSH the iterator. It’s spelled: «Mirmyntasseth». The best way I would describe it, is… it’s a name for a feeling, or an experience. The way it was explained to me, is that the word «Mirmyntasseth» is an expression of seeing a marble roll on a flat surface, then hitting another marble. Ah, right, you may not know this – a marble is like, like a pearl, but translucent and even more ornate. I was told that marbles were used by the Ancients for entertainment. They had a game where you rolled one to hit another. I'll admit, I can see the appeal. Throwing rocks is fun, although I image this game was considered a more dignified pastime."

[She tumbles the dark pearl in her hands, admiring its luster]

"The poem inside this pearl, one of its verses spells: «Eight Marbles Cast in Stone». The poem itself is long… very long… I had the iterator read it to me once, and we had to stop in the middle because the rain was coming. Maybe I will ask NSH to read it again, when I’m back at his superstructure with Hunter."

[Her gaze trails off to somewhere far away for a moment, a subtle grimace on her face. She closes her eyes and shakes off the thoughts that cloud her mind]

"So, um… yes… that is why I am called Eight Marbles Cast in Stone, or Marbles for short. I like how it sounds, it has a nice ring to it. And it’s a gift from an iterator, a god-like being. I consider it a great honor."

"…that said, I wonder why he didn’t just name me «Pearl»? Wouldn’t that make more sense? Maybe it didn’t sound cool enough. They’ve used pearls just to store information. I guess it’d be silly to be named «Dirt» because you doodle in dirt, or «Batfly» because you love eating batflies? Hmm…"

[eccentricallygothic]

Depraved Old Man!John Price | Soap's Girl!You. 

Description: Johnny gets too reckless on a mission this time around and gets booted off the team. Now only you can convince the Captain to revoke his decision.

Warning(s): Noncon, dubcon, naive!reader, corruption kink, groping, coercion, dacryphilia, dark!Captain Price, dark!Soap, size kink, fear kink, fingering, forced kissing, misogyny, infantilization, sir kink, handjob, they're unsavoury men. Minors do not interact.

“Go on, baby” you feel a strong nudge on your shoulder from behind, causing for your smaller form to go tumbling forwards and face first into the ominous door in front of you. “Oh, shit. I–” Johnny whips you towards him to hurriedly get a look at you before examining you and rubbing the tip of your nose where he thinks you got hurt. “I am sorry, baby. But it's okay. I promise it'll be fine. But you have to be strong for me, okay?” The beads glimmering in your eyes sting them just a bit more and your bottom lip wobbles at the mention of the horrendous prospect. “Go on, the Captain is a nice man. Just show him some of that sweet love of yours and he will be good to us” before you can attempt to plead for him to reconsider, you have been pushed into the room and forced to come face to face with none other than the man you dread the most in this world right now.  The door clicks shut behind you. 

John Price's gaze feels nearly scrutinizing as you nibble on your bottom lip while trembling in your frilly little dress, the tips of your fingers folded over the extremely high hem that you try to extend by pulling at it but in vain. Silence pervades the scene for you have no idea how long before the man finally speaks. 

“Well, love, come on over here, then.” Your heart drops as the little bit of hope you were desperately clinging on to extinguishes. Johnny was Johnny and you had signed up for the kind of man he was when you decided to stay with him despite his flaws but from a man of Price's station you expected something else. 

Something better. 

Johnny got too reckless this time around and got booted off the team by the Captain. Since he never tells you work related stuff -like he ever tells you anything serious at all- because ‘those’ ugly things aren't for little girls like you to know, you have no idea what exactly happened but it turned out that though you were too simple minded to know what happened, you weren't too small to be pimped out to your boyfriend's boss like this. 

Since you have tried to get Johnny to reconsider this every time you possibly could ever since he told you you were going to be doing this for him like a good girl supports her man and his colleagues have always terrified you because of how capable they are for any and all kinds of destruction, you hiss in a hiccup and let your wobbly steps carry you to the old man. 

Price is sitting in a big office chair behind a heavy wooden table, mighty and intimidating yet agreeable with his smile that is almost kind. You would have believed it like the impressionable fool you are if it weren't for the clouds of darkness that are threatening to burst out of his eyes, the light orbs looking you up and down everywhere except for your eyes with a chilling hunger. 

It is after your dignity is wholly mortified and you decide you cannot feel any more shame than this does he pat his lap as a silent gesture for you. 

“Hey, hey, hey, little thing” the material of his uniform is harsh under the exposed skin of your ass when you sit down, the sensation causing you to have a moment of realization all over again and a tear threatens to spill down your cheek but you catch it just in time. “It's okay, we are all friends here, angel. No need to cry, it's okay” you are tense and uncomfortable as you try to shrink in on yourself but one of his rough hands wrapping against the curve of your hip to push you into his hard chest doesn't help. The stiff tent in his pants touches you next and you cannot help but flinch as a hushed cry tries to crawl its way out of your throat. 

Unbeknownst to you, it only works up the man even more and he speaks to you in the most comforting of tones. “I get it, you're scared of the big Captain, aren't you, love? Never had much of an interaction, you and I, did we?” You barely understand him as you're too focused on trying to keep your tears at bay like Johnny ordered you to. No crying and no pleading. That was the rule if you wanted your man to keep his job. And you were a good girl and future wife. So you would do whatever it took. 

“I know what we need to do” your hands that helplessly lie clasped in your own lap clench and twitch when he suddenly kneads your skin where he is holding your hip. “Easy now” he warns when your legs defensively try to force you to stand and your body freezes before you even register his words. Price sighs unhappily. “I was told you were okay with this. I don't like my girls unwilling and unappreciative. You can go” your eyes widen in horror as everything Johnny had warned you against plays in your head at full volume and you go into a panic, shaking your head vehemently and trying to reassure him in as much voice as you could muster, desperately trying to convince him that you wanted this. 

Price ‘contemplates’ you for a couple moments and the suspense is enough to send you into a cardiac arrest because of how erratic it makes your heart. But then;

“Yeah? Are you sure?” You timidly nod. “Then what're those tears for?” The side of his mouth quirks up when you quickly wipe them away and shake your head wordlessly. “... No? Not scared…?” He talks to you like one would a child and your cheeks burn even hotter in humiliation. 

“A- A little…” You manage to squeak out as a measure of carefulness because he appears a bit dissatisfied with your response. 

Johnny's words ring in your head. Keep the Captain satisfied no matter what.  

And your response seems to do the trick for he faintly smiles, a bit proudly even. “A little, huh?” You timidly nod again. 

“Y- Yes, sir…” His eyes visibly darken at that. 

“You see” his fingers caress your hip gently. “I've got just the solution for it” you can barely see his face due to the haze of your thick tears burning your eyes. “Want to know what it is?” You have no choice. 

So you nod in agreement. “Y- Yes, sir…” You feel a brief twitch in the lap he has you perched on.

“There's a good girl” praise doesn't make you feel better, for once. “Well, you see, love. It's rather simple, really” his rough hand cups your face briefly to wipe at your tears and a shiver runs down your spine due to the stark difference between his meticulous touch and Johnny's reckless one. That, however, is not to say his is better. There is a lingering quality to it. A sickening coarseness. A dark manliness which contrasts the good natured boyishness of your lover's, however clumsy he may be. “We just need to familiarize ourselves to each other” your bottom lip wobbles involuntarily and his eyes flicker to it. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “Want to know how we are going to do that?” 

“... Y- Yes, Captain” you don't notice it but it causes for the tent in his pants to become even more visible.

“Bring that little thing here” you tremble as he takes your smaller hand in his much bigger one and takes it to his beard, the sensory shock of his coarse hairs digging into your pampered fingertips making you gasp with a flinch. Price's chest reverberates in silent mirth. “Just like that, love. Easy does it” you let him guide you as you meekly scratch the thick scruff, your nails nearly disappearing in the dark mass. “There now, all better, isn't it?” You try to return his smile but you can literally feel the awkward shape in which your lips are twisted due to how uncomfortable you are. 

Next he nudges your hand closer to his mustache and the second you do it, one of his heavy hands clamp on the bumps of your chest and you audibly flinch. But before you can even attempt to move away, the hand he has on your hip steels itself into your skin. But his friendly behavior doesn't change. Not on the surface, at least. 

“See? This is why we need to do this” a tear finally outweighs your eyesocket's bearing capacity and pushes its way down your lashes and all the way to your chin. His grip almost makes you cringe away and the way he gently kneads your boob doesn't do anything for you. “So when we are familiarized, you won't be so scared of your Captain and we can have a good time like friends do” and you have no choice but to sit there and scratch his beard and stroke his mustache while he ‘gently’ feels you up.

“Hmm…” He muses after a couple long horrible moments have passed. “What about a little kiss, angel?” Your eyes widen and your body trembles. Oh no. Johnny is the only man you ever want to kiss. This is so wrong. “Come here” you try to stiffen your back and go to plant a firm hand on his chest but your boyfriend's cautionary words ring in your ears again. 

His chance, his career... 

You cannot fuck this up for him. 

No.

Good girls support their men.

“Yes, Cap–” you force yourself to not retch when his lips touch yours, the bristles of his mustache causing you to jerk your head back as your eyes crinkle shut, the back of your hand slapping against your lips to swipe at them the moment he pulls away to get rid of the ticklish sensation. 

Price's huge form vibrates again. “Not used to a real man kissing you, are ya, angel?” You gulp at how intimidatingly deep his voice sounds. 

“N- No, sir…” So he beckons you closer again. So you can familiarize yourself with it. Your eyes lower in shame and disgust as you cup one side of his face, feeling a waterfall erupt from the corner of your eyes as you peck his lips over and over since he keeps ordering you with low, ‘one more, one more, one more…’s

It is not that he tastes bad. In fact, he tastes much better than you expected -if you ever even thought about it in your wildest of moments- any man other than Johnny to taste. Dare you say… better than your lover, even.

But you have only ever had eyes for your boyfriend. 

And this is sickening, terrible, revolting…

But you don't have a choice. You must be good. You must obey. Must support. Johnny is also human. And he made a mistake. That shouldn't cost him his career. It's almost unbelievable how this kind looking man is capable of such cruelty. 

In a matter of minutes, the length of your neck has been felt up in his strong fist, the pink lace strings which held your dress on your shoulders have been slid off, the swells of your chest has been fished out of the neckline of your dress and thoroughly groped, the hem has been pushed all the way up to your waist, your legs have been pushed apart, your underwear rests on your ankles and Price's hand is knuckles deep between your slick coated thighs. 

“C- Captain!” You let out a choked out cry as you tremble, violated and stuffed full of his fingers. “P- Please!” Your back arches as you clutch his knee for support, sparks of pleasure overwhelming your pussy when the rough pad of his thumb finds your clit before swiping against it slowly while two of his fingers squish their way in and out of your tight cunt. 

“Please what, love?” Price is breathless as he grunts in pleasure. 

You sob from the sensitivity and helplessness of your situation. “M- More, please!” You don't want this. But he has you so worked up you cannot think of anything else anymore. It feels too good. You must cum. There is no other way. 

Price hums deeply. “Keep working that pretty little hand and I'll give you all that you need, angel” you obediently nod as you desperately speed up your fist that is wrapped around his hard cock. “I didn't think a thing as small as you could make a mess this big, love. But look at you” his pants are drenched in your juices and sweat. “Leaking yourself stupid for your Captain” you shamelessly moan out loud, albeit against your will, when you feel his middle finger graze against your g-spot. 

“S- Sir!” More hot pearls of precum bubble out of the apex of his swollen tip and trickle down to meet your curled fingers, aiding the movement of your hand.

“Tell me, angel, has he ever made you feel like your Captain is?” You realized it a while ago that Price does not care if Johnny can hear you. Hell, sometimes he speaks so loud -like right now- it feels as if the older man wants him to. 

You shake your head, crazed with need and lust. “N- No, no sir he hasn't!” You tell yourself you're only following the orders you were given. 

Keep the Captain satisfied no matter what. 

“Aw, a girl as pretty as you deserves everything, angel. Why not?” It is the way his cock twitches in your fist can you tell this is getting him off. 

“S- Said– ah!” The tight band of your entrance tries to shut in on itself but his firm fingers roughly fucking in and out of you deny it its desire. 

You're so close. 

“Go on then, angel” you let the base of your palm linger on his ballsack to massage it and he grunts before mumbling out a praise. 

“Said s- sex is the g- girl's way of t- thanking her man for taking c- care of her and loving her, sir!” You repeat Johnny's words that he has told you since day one. “So she l- lets him do whatever he pleases like a good girl!” Price chuckles before clicking his tongue. 

“That little bastard told you that, did he?” You nod as you feel all your muscles pulling taut like they do sometimes when Johnny makes love to you nicely. “Tsk, tsk. That is no way to treat a sweetheart like yourself… Maybe you need someone better, huh? Someone older–”

“CAPTAIN!” Your vision fills with neon blots and a faint ringing dominates your hearing. The speed of your fist goes rather lax but his seed that bursts out soon after and seeps down his length to coat your fingers is a relief. Because the intensity of undeniably the best orgasm you have ever had has relaxed your muscles way too much for you to be coherent anymore. Your body collapses tiredly against his broad battle hardened chest and your gaze fixates on a spot on the floor, your cum covered hand lazily stroking him to milk him empty. 

“You like the idea that much?” Price snickers as he pulls you closer before burying his nose in your hair to breathe in your scent, his own back relaxing against the leather chair now. The man does nothing to pull his fingers out of you, his thumb still turtling along the width of your clit while his free hand strokes your bare ass. “Hm?”

“H- Huh?” You let out a puzzled sound, fucked too stupid to make sense of anything. 

“My, my, angel. Just what am I going to do with you, hm?”  

You're too exhausted to look up but your heart faintly jumps. 

He is not done with you?

[kaiser1ns]

𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: you hated him from the moment he showed up at the bastard munchen tryouts — you can't stand him, it's impossible, or so you thought.

╹contents :: 8.9 k words aka word vomit, fluff and two kind of suggestive scenes,mostly pre-timeskip kaiser, reader is football fanatic, kaiser loves to annoy her(he is just in love with her), just one teenager denying their feelings while the other is clearly in love, mentions of her parents - to clarify they are not dead !, mentions of real players from the actual club bayern munchen, i don't know if I can put this in the slow burn section? she hates him but she loves him.

╹notes :: 100 followers special i gave my blood, sweat and tears for this, please spare me. sorry for any grammar mistakes, hope you enjoy! for my one and only, and big thanks to @kooriou 🤍

You hated Michael Kaiser from the first moment he stepped into Bastard München Academy, an instant wave of annoyance washed over you. His arrogance and presence got on your nerves, making it impossible to even look at him. But you had to — that was your job as a future assistant coach for the best team in Germany, and who knows maybe you can snatch your uncle's position as manager.

As the tryouts unfolded, you observed him closely, jotting down notes on his skills and trying to give him some initial stats, which to your dismay were either tier A or S. Despite the irritation, there was no point in lying, he was outstanding and he knew what he was doing - or rather, he knew what he wanted. You saw as he teamed up with the boy who wore the jersey with number 20. They made up a pretty good duo, and with Ness's passes and Kaiser's fast attacks, no one could stop them. 

Perhaps beneath the thorny exterior, Michael Kaiser was the player Bastard München looked for—someone who could elevate them to new heights. As the final whistle blew, you already knew the outcome that they would both be accepted into the team, and you'd have to get used to seeing his face almost every day. You got up and walked over to your uncle as all the recruits were lined up, looking at them, as your eyes landed on the striker with with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blue rose tattoo on his neck. You stared at him, furrowing your eyebrows and with squinted eyes, a silent expression of displeasure etching across your face.

In that subtle gesture, frustration found a physical form; it was a language spoken without words, a non-verbal protest to whatever disturbance had disrupted your peace — and the one who caused it starred back at you, smirking smugly at you, but he turned back to listen to the coach's speech.

"And with that, we welcome you in Bastard Munchen. We hope you will meet and exceed our expectations, and now I will give the word to my niece Y/N who will also work with all of you youngsters." You were still lost in the staring contest with the boy who paid you no mind, and now everyone looked at you, some were getting scared seeing you so oppressed by something; were they that bad that the coach had to ask his niece about another opinion?

Your uncle cleared his throat, making you come back to the real world, a little taken back from the sudden shift of focus. "Ah, yes, of course." as you stood there with all of your glory and pride like you were the president and everyone waited for your long waited speech "As the future of Bastard Munchen, you will be the ones to continue the legacy set by the club's legendary players. Work hard so you can achieve your goals, as you should always believe in yourself. Make every impossibility a reality." 

Your words echoed through the training grounds, making the boys happy to hear something from a beautiful girl - in one way or another, something had to keep them going. As you finished your speech, you caught his eye again, but this time, there was a glimmer of amusement. Was there anything wrong with the things you said? You tried your best to sound like every coach who talks to their team with all the "work hard and give your best shot" stuff. You hope you won't become like that in the future.

Your uncle nodded approvingly, signaling the end of the meeting. The boys started leaving one by one, but the blue-eyed genius stayed, approaching you with confidence.

”Impressive speech, Little Miss, but actions speak louder than words, don't they?" he remarked with a smirk, leaving you with a mix of irritation. You haven't even known each other for a day and you already want to gouge out his eyes. "Talk about yourself, Mister. Show results, and then talk to me again."

Kaiser chuckled, his smile growing wider as he came closer to you, rising a hand as he delicately slid his fingers under your chin, lifting it ever so slightly, your breath hitched from the sudden move.

"We share some similar goals, I will give you that. Be sure to watch me making the impossible your new reality." he walked away, leaving you standing there like a statue - a blushing statue at that.

You definitely hate him.

WEEK 2 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

In the following weeks, as training sessions progressed and the team started bonding, you couldn't deny that Michael's skills were exceptional. Despite his arrogant attitude, there was a reason why he wore that smug expression. The team was carried by his influence, and you found yourself unfortunately acknowledging his impact. Kaiser Impact, huh? That’s one way to call it.

He approached you, the smirk replaced by a genuine smile. "Not bad, right? I noticed the way you looked only at me," he said, as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure as you handed him a water bottle "Don't get too comfortable now. This doesn't mean you're off the hook. There's still a long way to go."

The blonde boy chuckled, seemingly unfazed, taking the bottle from your hand, making your fingers briefly touch as he kept eye contact. "I wouldn't want it any other way, Prinzessin. Now what are my stats? I’m sure they went higher." You shot him a skeptical glance, unimpressed by his playfulness. "Stats? Do you mean your nonexistence score? Like in a video game or something," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

He laughed at your comment. "Maybe not a game, but God's challenge, and I'm here to be the best of the best and eventually surpass Noel Noa," he replied with a cocky grin.

Rolling your eyes once more, you couldn't deny the feeling you had when talking back at him. "Fine, let's humor your challenge sent from above for a moment. Strength: still lacking, form: needs improvement, and humility: nonexistent," you assessed, ticking off imaginary boxes in the air. "But hey, you did manage to catch my attention for being the most annoying person I have ever met, so I'll give you that."

Kaiser raised his eyebrows, took a sip from the water bottle, and said, "Well, Prinzessin, catching your attention is just another bonus for me." You scoffed, "Smooth talker, aren't you? But like you said actions speak louder than words, so do me a favor and leave me alone, you are not the only one who has to work hard."

His eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he took a step closer, narrowing the distance between you. "Oh, I plan on proving myself in more ways than one. Consider this just the beginning." With that, he went back to the others, leaving you to wonder whether he was genuinely committed to improving or just enjoying getting under your skin.

Deciding to continue your work – which for now was to arrange the water and the towels ready for the players – paying no mind to the world around you, until you felt a hand on your shoulder, thinking it was Kaiser again, but it was your uncle - the head coach. His touch was firm yet comforting, a familiar presence amidst the chaos made by the young athletes.

You turned around, a mixture of surprise and relief coloring your expression. Your uncle, Franz Bauer, wore a knowing smile that hinted comfort “How are you doing so far, Y/N? Is something or rather someone bothering you?” He spoke in a low, reassuring tone. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, grateful for your uncle's concern, but you found it strange how he always knows and notices when you have trouble.

"I'm managing, Uncle Franz," you replied, a faint smile on your lips. "Just the usual, dealing with boys my age. Nothing that I can't handle."

His gaze held a depth of understanding, and as he nodded at you. "I appreciate the help. You know, you remind me of my younger self because I too was an errand kid."

He wanted something from you, and you knew it by the way he started to talk about how much you were like him as a child. He always does it. "Just get to the point. Is there anything specific you want me to do?"

Franz laughed slightly ”You do catch up quickly,” his voice dropping to a confidential tone. "I've been observing you, and I can't help but notice the way you look at the team, wanting to comment on the formations, the positions, and the players themselves. I've been thinking about expanding your role in the team, perhaps as an assistant coach."

The proposition caught you off guard, and your eyes widened in surprise. "Assistant coach? Uncle, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not sure I have the experience for that."

He placed a hand on your shoulder again, a reassuring squeeze. "Well, you will be an assistant coach in training. Experience is gained through opportunities, Y/N. I see potential in you, a natural talent." your eyes widen suddenly “So, for the rest of the training session, you will be the boss.”

“But I-” he cut you off by standing behind you and pushing you forward “No objections, or I'll call your parents to pick you up. You don’t want that, right?” having no time to answer, you were next to the other coaching staff as your uncle gave a thumbs up from the benches with water and towels. That old bastard Well, you better be here training some naive and arrogant footballers, than being home studying economics.

Taking a deep breath, you accepted the challenge, even if you didn't want to. As you stepped onto the field, the weight of the whistle in your hand felt foreign, yet empowering. The players eyed you curiously, some exchanging glances, unsure of what to make of this sudden change. Gathering the team you began to give orders. "You will go against the first team and clash with amazing players like Noel Noa, Thomas Muller, Manuel Neuer and Joshua Kimich. But let go of the thoughts about the big bad wolves chasing you - you shall become the chaser." Your uncle watched from the sidelines as if he knew something you didn't. "So for starters, we are changing the formation to 4-2-3-1 as Kaiser will be the top of the attack, Ness you will be the attacking midfielder so you gotta keep an eye on blondie over here, but also beware of your rivals. "

The players exchanged glances again, as Kaiser and Ness shared a look - shocked at your words. Is this even going to work? Is she for real? You took a moment to gauge their reactions before continuing. "Remember, this is a training session, and mistakes are welcomed. Now, destroy them."

As the training progressed, the intensity of the practice match increased, with each player giving their best to impress you. As the team executed the adjusted formation, you observed them. Kaiser made strategic moves upfront, Ness showcased skillful ball control, and the defense held its ground against the opponents.

In a surprising turn of events, the U-20 team began to dominate the match. GOAL, As you blew the final whistle after Kaiser scored the 5th and final goal of the game, ending practice. He looked at you, and again with that smile - full of self-confidence. You wanted to throw the whistle at his stupid-looking face. The sidelines erupted in cheers from the staff as your uncle gave you an approving nod, acknowledging the success of your "coaching debut", approaching you with a proud smile. "See, Y/N? You have it in you. You made them believe in the impossible about beating the old dogs, and they did it."

After the game, the players gathered around for a brief post-match discussion. The atmosphere was a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Kaiser, still riding the high of his decisive goal, approached you with a smirk.

"Well, well, well, Y/N. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd make me the star of the show," he said putting his arm on your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let his teasing get to you. "This was just a practice match. Let's see if you can replicate this performance in a real game."

He chuckled, "Oh, I plan on it. Just watch, Y/N."

Ness, who had been listening to the conversation, chimed in, "I have to admit, I didn't think this would work, but it did. Maybe you're not as clueless as I thought."

You shot him a glare, "Yeah, thanks Ness." The purple-haired grinned, "No problem. Just keeping you on your toes."

As the midfielder went away, sensing that his partner wanted alone time with you, Kaiser lingered for a moment, a more genuine expression on his face. "You know, Y/N, for a moment there, I almost thought you enjoyed it. Admit it being in charge, making your own choices..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Kaiser. This was just one game. We'll see how things go in an actual game."

Kaiser looked at you, his grip tightening. "Fair enough. But, if you ever need to test some tactics, you know where to find me~."

You scoffed, removing his hand from your shoulder, "I'm not going to Hell, thank you." he continued to look at you in a way unknown to you, making you feel kinda strange "Well, maybe just a quick visit. You might find it surprisingly pleasant." You rolled your eyes again, but there was something in your chest that you were very unfamiliar with. "I'll consider it, but this doesn't mean I like you or anything."

The boy chuckled, a teasing sound coming from his lips. "Oh, I'm not expecting you to confess your undying love for me just yet, Y/N. But I have to admit, that was flattering." You shot him a skeptical look, feeling a little hot for some unknown reason. Are you getting sick? No, that shouldn’t be it, maybe is the adrenaline, yeah that’s it.

"Is that your idea of a compliment?" He shrugged, noticing how your checks started to turn red "Take it however you want. Just remember, I'm always up for a challenge, especially if it involves the impossible of winning you over, Erdbeere(Strawberry)."

You raised an eyebrow at the unexpected nickname, playing on your face. "Erdbeere? Really?"

Kaiser grinned, undeterred by your reaction. "It suits you. Sweet, but with a bit of a bite. Plus, it's fun to see that tough exterior of yours crack a little."

You sighed, realizing that arguing with him would only fuel his teasing. "Whatever. Just focus on keeping up with the same performance as today"

He winked playfully, "Oh, I'll keep up, Erdbeere. Count on it."

as Kaiser turned to leave, his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. The teasing smile on his face softened, revealing a hint of something more genuine. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he said, his tone unexpectedly earnest.

You watched him go, and as the distance between you and him grew, you felt something. It was a feeling you couldn't quite describe, leaving you to question it.

Alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay the conversation and the teasing remarks in your mind. Kaiser's parting words echoed, and the unexpected nickname he made up for you.

"Erdbeere," you whispered to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you liked the sound of it - just maybe, you will let it slide this time.

WEEK 4 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

After the whole fiasco with the practice match and the “Strawberry incident”, as you liked to call it, the work in the facility was getting harder - running left and right to do tasks, printing documents, ordering equipment, dealing with the teasing remarks of this annoyingly tall boy with long gold locks and light blue eyes deep as the ocean you will let him drown. If he was on fire and you had a bottle of water - you'd drink it in front of him. Yet, amid the chaos, Michael Kaiser always managed to appear, like a haunting ghost, ready to jumpscare you in the most unexpected time.

One day, rushing to deliver some documents to the medical unit, he appeared beside you. His smirk was infuriatingly present, and his voice dripped with playful arrogance.

"Running again, Y/N? You should consider joining the team as a midfielder with all that sprinting you're doing." You shot him a warning look "Maybe if you spent less time making comments and more time working, we'd get things done faster."

Kaiser chuckled, unbothered. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? I'm just trying to lighten the mood, you are always so stressed."

"Your idea of 'fun' is questionable." you said, trying to ignore the strange flutter in your stomach that his teasing somehow managed to evoke.

As you reached the department of the medical unit, you thought you finally got rid of him. However, fate had other plans. On your way back, he appeared again, blocking your way. His tall frame casted a shadow over you, and his mischievous smile widened.

"Michael, move." you demanded with the use of his first name, trying to sound stern, but he merely leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"What's the rush, Y/N? Can't I talk to my amazing assistant coach?" he retorted, his eyes never leaving yours.

Annoyed, you attempted to sidestep him, but he effortlessly mirrored your movements. It became a silent dance, a game of cat and mouse in the narrow corridor. Every step you took, he countered, maintaining his blockade.

"Are you always this stubborn, or is it just for me?" he teased, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Seriously, Kaiser, this isn't funny," you protested, feeling the irritation building up.

But he remained still, his teasing facade never fading. "Come on, now, Don't lie to yourself, you secretly enjoy our little meetings. The way your eyes light up when you see me says it all."

You scoffed, sticking out your tongue, "In your dreams." Deciding you'd had enough, you abruptly turned on your heel and started walking in the opposite direction. To your dismay, he followed, like a persistent shadow. The facility's corridors echoed with the sound of your hurried footsteps and his leisurely ones behind you until the two of you found yourselves in an empty, dimly lit room.

"Honestly what's your deal? Are you stalking me now? You like stalking girls? That's disgusting." you accused, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled, leaning his back to the wall once again, while you were in the center of the room. "Stalking is such a harsh word. Let's call it... coincidental alignment of paths."

You groaned, turning to leave. However, in your haste, you tripped over your own feet and stumbled forward. In a split second, Kaiser went off the wall as he reached out his hands attempting to catch you mid-fall. Despite his efforts, fate had its way again, and you both fell, as you landed on top of him. Your arms were at the sides of his head, and your legs wrapped around his torso.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, your eyes widened in surprise, your face millimeters from his, your lips slightly parting as you felt your whole body burning as your heart raced to the rhythm of an unspoken melody. Seeing his features closer, he was beautiful, and now you are the one drowning in the deep blue ocean that his eyes painted. You didn't know what was going on — you didn't know what emotions you were going through, as Kaiser's arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, an unfamiliar but very welcomed warmth spread over your body.

"I-I didn't mean to—this wasn't what I—"

"I've heard of falling for someone, but this is taking it quite literally," He teased, breaking the silence with his flirting, snapping you out of your trance.

You struggled to maintain your composure as you shuttered, attempting to push yourself off him. "G-get off me," your heart continued its upbeat dance, and you couldn't shake off the vivid image of his blue eyes that seemed to have cast a spell on you. 

"Technically, you are on top of me, Prinzessin" blushing furiously as Kaiser's teasing smirk only fueled your embarrassment, making you wish the ground would swallow you whole. The room felt like it had turned into a sauna, the tension thick enough to be cut off with a knife.

Just as the bickering reached its peak, the door swung open, and Ness, the ever-curious magician, stood in the doorway. His eyes widened at the scene before him, feeling a little confused at the sight.

"Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?" Ness quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between Y/N and Kaiser. The two of you exchanged a quick, panicked glance, unsure of how to respond. "Yes/No!," Kaiser and you blurted out, your faces turning even redder. Kaiser, unfazed by the interruption, grinned, while you desperately tried to stay calm as possible.

Ness raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on his lips. "Really? Because it looks like I walked in on a very romantic moment of your little play. Do I need to put on some slowed music?" He walked into the room, closing the door behind him as he continued to stare at the two of you. "I had no idea I was walking into a romantic drama." You shot a glare at Kaiser, who only winked in response. Trying to divert the attention, you stammered, "N-no, Ness, it's not what you think. We were just..." Your voice trailed off as you struggled to come up with a plausible excuse.

He, on the other hand, couldn't resist. "Well, it depends on your definition of interrupting." Ness chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you two to your... whatever this is."  The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by your attempts to get up from Kaiser. "We were just, uh, having a disagreement," you finally managed to say, avoiding eye contact with both Ness and Kaiser.

Kaiser, ever the charmer, grinned at Ness. "Disagreements can be quite physical, apparently." Ness shook his head, still grinning. "Well, carry on, then. I'll just pretend I didn't see anything." As he left the room, he couldn't resist adding, "But next time, maybe lock the door." As the door closed behind Ness, you let out a breath you didn't realize were holding. Kaiser, however, couldn't help but laugh. "Quite the entrance, huh? Maybe we should argue more often."

Rolling your eyes at Kaiser's comment, you finally managed to free yourself from his grasp as you stood up in the fastest way possible, and he also rose from the ground. "Arguing more often? I think once is more than enough," you retorted, shooting him a disapproving look. Kaiser, still grinning, stretched lazily and got up from the floor. Ness's interruption had shifted the atmosphere in the room, and you couldn't shake off the embarrassment that lingered. "Thanks a lot for that," you muttered, shooting Kaiser another glare.

Seemingly unbothered, he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "Me? I didn't do anything. Ness just has unpredictable timing." He winked again, causing you to shake your head in disbelief. "Unpredictable timing, my foot. When will you stop with all of this? I can’t even have one peaceful day without you talking to me and saying all these things that you probably don’t even mean. Does it feel nice to play with someone’s feelings?"

Kaiser's smile faltered for a moment, his lively expression fading away as he saw yours. "Maybe I overdo it sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care."

You studied him for a moment, unsure whether to believe his sincerity or dismiss it as another one of his tricks. "Actions speak louder than words, Kaiser. If you genuinely care, maybe try showing it in a way that doesn't involve constant teasing and sarcasm."

The tension between you and him lingered as you both stared into each other's eyes trying to find answers locked in the depth of your souls. Finally, you decided it was time to leave "I'm going to go find Ness and make sure he doesn't go spreading any rumors," you announced, turning to leave the room. As you walked away, your mind was a swirling mess of emotions—something you couldn’t tell. He was still vivid in your thoughts, causing a knot to tighten in your stomach. As you looked behind, he was still there dusting off his clothes.

You furrowed your brows, awaiting the unknown territory of your own feelings. The warmth creeping into your cheeks and the soft tears started to paint over your face like rain. It was an unfamiliar sense, leaving you questioning the source. Was it just fire or something deeper that can get you burned?

1 WEEK LATER:

As the days passed, you found yourself avoiding him, unsure of what to think or feel. Everything was so messed up, that you barely slept or ate - when you were not helping your uncle in the faculty, you were at school, where suddenly your grades dropped, and you made excuses for your teachers and friends that you were busy with work - which is partly not a lie but not the whole truth either. Everyone sensed that something was troubling you, even so, you'd rather not tell a single living soul about it all. You couldn't escape the memories of that day, replaying the moment in your mind like a broken record.

Lost in thought, you didn’t realize that someone was next to you as you continued to pour water into the already full bottle that was overflowing over the sink until the person in question shook you by the shoulders. Without much reaction you turned around, your gaze clearly showing the sadness and lifelessness all over your face, you were tired of thinking about him. Your focus returned, the person in front of you was your uncle who was visibly worried about you. "What's going on, my dear? You know you can share everything with your old man" he said, the pain in his eyes to see his niece so down for the past week “It’s nothing … I am just trying to manage school and work.” Another lie left your lips.

Uncle Franz placed a gentle smile on his face. "I've known you since you were a kid. I can see through that facade. Something's eating you inside, and it's more than just school and work. Talk to me." You sighed, the weight of the past week bearing down on you. "It's just complicated, Uncle. I don't know how to put it into words."

He guided you to sit down at the bench near the sink, "Try me. I might be old, but I've been around the block a few times. I am sure it’s a boy problem. Because your mother was the same when she met your dad.”

How does he know it’s about a boy? Honestly, that was shocking to hear. Does he know about the strange situationship between you and Kaiser? Well, you hope he doesn't. Taking a deep breath, you began, "There's this boy, that I met not long ago, and let's say some things happened, and now I'm stuck in this mess. I can't escape it, and it's tearing me apart."

Your uncle listened intently, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Love can be a tricky thing, my dear. But keeping it all bottled up inside won't help. Who is this guy, and what happened?" Is that what they call love? Feeling this way because it's terrible not knowing what you want from yourself—you hesitated to answer, unsure if you want to share the details. "It's just someone, not a big deal."

“It’s Michael, isn’t it?” Your eyes widened upon your uncle’s question, and your eyes started to water, as you tried your best not to cry again. Starting to have a thing for someone is a hell of a ride, so you are going to play dumb "I don't know a person by that name." Not that dumb.

Uncle Franz leaned back. "You can deny it all you want, my dear, but your eyes just told me everything I needed to know." Feeling a mix of embarrassment, you laughed nervously, “I think you should go and get your eyes checked, you are starting to see things.” he looked at you with raised eyebrows, apparently he didn't believe you - no one would in those circumstances.

"Okay, maybe it is Michael. But it's complicated. He's so confusing, and I don't even know what he wants."

Uncle Franz patted your head ruffling your hair, "You don't know because you haven't tried talking to him. You should not be scared; just do what your heart wants.” and maybe he was right, he was always right. You just smiled at him, whipping your tears, letting him know you would try - someday eventually. “But if he hurts you one more time, we will have serious problems.” You laughed nervously, should you be scared or just revealed - guess there's one way to find out.

He stood up from the bench looking at you once more "Now cheer up and come with me, there is something I need to tell everyone on the team” and you also went with him, going into the field where they practiced.

A whistle signaled it was time for a break. Everyone gathered around the benches as you stayed closely behind your uncle, who clapped his hands, turning everyone's attention onto him, except for the boy with the blond hair who was looking at you. He took a good look at you - first at your lips, which were stuck together like a solid line, then your eyes, they shimmered with traces of sadness, yet beneath the surface, something else lingered, revealing your soul. Each glance reflected the emotions within your heart. Have you been crying? Is it because of me? He couldn't shake the feeling that he was probably the reason for your sorrow. As the others chatted, he found himself unable to look away, his attention remained fixed on you, trying to ignore the questions swirling in his mind. 

“Even if it’s a friendly game with Dortmund’s U-20, we should give our best, okay? Make sure to get enough sleep and don’t skip your meals, it’s important to have your body and mind in top shape.” your uncle's voice spoke once more as the rest of the team could be heard agreeing on the upcoming friendly game with the club's biggest rival “And Kaiser you better be excellent, no missing targets, no missing shots, no mistakes. I want you to be focused next week, on the maximum output, got it?” then the coach addressed him specifically, and for the first time, Kaiser was somewhat frightened by his look, which held something very personal against him. “Yes, sir. I will do my best” he replied, masking his uneasiness with confidence. “Good, now the training is over. You can go to your dorms and rest.”

And with that, everyone scattered, leaving just the two of you, feeling his gaze still lingering on. His blue eyes seemed to be looking into your soul, he knew what was wrong with you and that he was the reason behind it all. He wanted to apologize to you, he really did, but something was stopping him and he didn't know what exactly. Come on, say something. Alas nothing came out from his mouth, and you just turned and left without saying a word, even if you wanted to talk to him too — you didn't, leaving him with his feeling of guilt.

A FEW DAYS LATER:

The day for the team to leave for Dortmund came, as there were no problems with the flight, but now you were at the hotel, where a big misunderstanding occurred. Being part of the female staff, you had to share a room with one of them, but the hotel receptionist thought you were part of the boy’s team, being a teenager. While everyone was settled, you stayed in the lobby as your uncle talked with the hotel staff, and Ness and Kaiser stood across from you on the sofa. The two of them were talking, and you were lost in thoughts about whether a room would be found for you. 

Your uncle returned from the reception "The problem is solved," he said as you were more than happy to go to your room and enjoy some alone time, "But you will have a room tomorrow, because some of the guests will be leaving then," and your smile faded away, faster than it appeared.

At that moment, Ness nudged Kaiser's shoulder signaling him to act, "I can share my room with you." the striker offered, the keys hanging from his hand with a slight smile on his face. Your eyes widened when you heard the offer. “Absolutely no-”

"Fine, but no funny business." your uncle cut you off, as you looked at him with the most shocked face, your gaze met Kaiser's who had been staring at you this whole time. They can't be serious, you thought, Uncle Franz can't be serious. You mentally facepalmed yourself, having enough headaches, this was just the icing on the cake.

Of all people of course it was him. What did you do in your past life to end up in such situations? Did you murder someone, poison a royalty, or haven’t paid your debt — well you sure are paying it now. 

You got up and took the keys from his hand, eyeing him suspiciously, as you got your luggage and went to the elevator before telling him not to bother you. Well, that wasn't the conversation Kaiser hoped to have with you, but it's still something. He turned to look at your uncle, now that you were not here. “Coach, are you sure this is going to work?” 

Franz chuckled, patting Kaiser on the shoulder. "Sometimes, putting people in unexpected situations helps them see things differently. Who knows, maybe sharing a room will sort the things between you two."

The boy sighed, unsure about how this would play out, as Ness patted him on the back "I just hope she doesn't make this more difficult than it already is."

“And I hope you won’t do anything more than talking. Like I said earlier, no funny business.” Kaiser just nodded “I promise."

Meanwhile, you were in the elevator, still processing the fact that you had to share a room with Kaiser, good thing you won’t sleep on the same bed. As the elevator arrived at your floor you took a deep breath and walked down the corridor, finding the room that matched the key. Opening the door, you were greeted with a very beautiful interior, a nice view of the lively night in Dortmund and ... one bed. Great, things can’t get any worse, can they? 

Placing your suitcase by the bed, opening it and pulling out your pajamas. You started to undress when you heard the door open, seeing wisps of blonde hair. Panicking you raised your voice to him not to enter the room as you were still in your underwear. God, how many awkward situations are there to overcome.

Kaiser froze at the door, his hand still on the handle, as he realized the awkward situation he had just walked into. "Sorry" he quickly averted his gaze. "I didn't know you were... I'll just wait outside.” He said, closing the tiny gap he left open. 

You put on your pajamas faster than Usain Bolt can run. Once you were ready you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as you went to open the door to let him enter. It was his room after all, you can't keep him outside even if you wanted to.

As you opened the door, Kaiser stood there, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment, so were yours "I'm sorry about that," he apologized again  "I should have knocked, or... I don't know, you should have locked the door. You know, it could have been some stranger.”

Well he was right, you should have locked the door and kept him outside to sleep on the carpet in the hallway. You didn't say anything, you just went and sat on the bed picking up the phone to check the time [22:22] well better make a wish. You ignored him as he sat on the other side of the bed so you were back to back. 

Kaiser cleared his throat, breaking the silence, “I brought you this” he said, handing you a bar of chocolate, still faced with his back. As you took the chocolate you couldn't help but notice the warmth that was forming in your heart, despite the awkwardness. "Thanks," you muttered, feeling a bit guilty for your initial reaction earlier "I'm sorry too," you finally spoke up, turning slightly to face him. "I didn't mean to be rude to you. Well, maybe I did because you deserved it.”

He turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. "It's alright,Y/N”  he said softly, turning around as his eyes met yours. You agreed, offering him a smile too. "So, uh, I'll just go get changed in the bathroom, and then we can go to sleep." You nodded your head again watching as he got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, you let out a big sigh, silence enveloping you again. You decided to start making the bed while he was getting changed. Putting the extra pillows between the mattress, marking the ‘territory’ as you lay down and curled up under the covers of your part. 

You heard the door open and then his footsteps approaching, looking up from the barricade he wore a plain white shirt that was more loose, revealing more of his blue rose tattoo, it was a beautiful design you can't lie, and a pair of black shorts. He too looked at the pillowed wall, then at you with raised brows. “If you don't want to share a bed, I can sleep on the couch.” 

“Not that I don't want to, but the couch is too small and neither you nor I can sleep comfortably on it. So that's why I put pillows in the middle, you have your part, and I have mine.” you explained, leaving him a little bit hurt because of this separation, but whatever you are comfortable with, of course. “Well, sure”

He got under his covers, trying to get cozy but the wall next to him was something he wanted to remove. How much longer are you going to hide from him? Did you hate him so much that you didn't want to see him, in the room where you both were? Guess he will talk to you tomorrow.

No, fuck that. He isn't a scaredy cat anymore, he is not the mentally weak person who constantly gave up on things he believed to be impossible. Because the chance to make it up with you is now — it's not tomorrow, it's not the next day, week, month or year. It's now.

He sat up and removed the one pillow that was separating you from seeing your faces. Catching you, closing your eyes, observing your expression how you tried to keep this innocent sleeping face, and how your chest raised with every breath. You were a good assistant and 'architect', but not a good actress.

“Y/N, I know you are not sleeping,” he whispered your name, his voice soft and full of emotion. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, well he got you no point of pretending now. “Let's discuss everything that has happened so far. We are all alone here, no one to interrupt us.”

You sat up too,leaning back on the wooden frame, hugging your knees beneath the fluffy cover. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and warm. He noticed your nervousness, and he reassured you, with a smile "It's okay, You can tell me anything." His voice was soothing, making you calm down. 

You took a deep breath, struggling to form the words you had been holding back for so long. Your heart raced as you finally found the courage to speak, “I... I've been wanting to say... that I... I..." your voice trailed off, the words catching in your throat as you fought against your fear, this was meant to be an easy task, just to talk it out and end of story. But love is no easy task, it's a challenge that you either take and win or leave with the feeling of despair after the loss. You met his gaze, seeing nothing but love reflected back at you. 

“I like you,” you finally confessed “And I didn't know what to do after all the bickering we had, you left me questioning my entire existence. Making me feel all giddy and nervous, making me confused about your own intentions.” you felt a weight lift off your chest, he listened absorbing every word you uttered.

The soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I like you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a weight of sincerity that warmed your heart. "More than you can imagine."

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort he offered. "I'm sorry for everything," he murmured, his gaze filled with remorse and affection. "I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know how to approach you properly, and I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to have eyes only for me and no one else, to think only of me. The only impossible challenge was to make you fall in love with me, but I don’t think I have to worry anymore ."

You shook your head gently, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his hand. You hesitated when your lips brushed against his own. You froze. What were you doing, kissing Michael Kaiser? You weren’t even sure if all the hatred you used to hold for him was now gone. He breathed in deeply. “Can I?" You took a moment of thought before you nodded, his hands now cupping your cheeks. His hands were so gentle, but the way he kissed you was not so much. It was like he was starving for you, the kiss sloppy, his tongue licking your lips, trying to taste all of you. 

By the time he stopped, you forgot how to breathe, taking in a deep breath, and so did he. Despite how hot and hungry that kiss was—perhaps even able to fulfill a person's hunger for another—he was still starved for more. His lips brushed against yours once more, this time, there was no hesitation on your part. You leaned into the kiss, letting yourself get lost as you felt him smile.

His hands trailed down your arms as they settled on your waist, pulling you closer to him. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's embrace. As the kiss deepened, passion flared between you, igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing moment. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if trying to memorize the taste of you.

Time seemed not to exist anymore, as all that mattered was the feel of Kaiserl's lips against yours and the way his touch set your skin ablaze with desire. When the kiss finally ended, you were left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath. And as you stared into each other's eyes and as they say, eyes are windows to the soul, you knew one thing for sure — he will forever be yours, and you will be forever his.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, making you arise from your deep slumber, slowly opening your eyes, trying to remember where you were. You had a very strange dream where you got to share a room with Kaiser and you two kissed. It was a nice dream indeed but things like this happened only in the romantic movies.

You wanted to go to the bathroom, but something stopped you from standing up. Confusion was encountered because why was there anything stopping you from getting up. As you took in your surroundings, the details of the dream flooded back to you—the shared room, the confession, and most importantly the unexpected kiss. It felt so vivid, so real, that it left you questioning whether was it really a dream. Looking down to see the force that kept you in a place came not from anyone - but from Kaiser himself. Wait a damn minute, Kaiser!?, you thought to yourself panicking in the process.

Reaching out and touching Kaiser's shoulder, half expecting him to vanish like a fragment of your imagination, but be was very much real , as his soft breathing and light snores reassured you that he was peacefully asleep. He turned around, pulling you down again, your back leaning against his chest, as the warmth of his embrace enveloped you like a comforting blanket. It wasn't a dream. You were indeed lying beside Michael Kaiser.

Wait, so the kiss is real? No, it can't be... right? A million questions ran through your head as you felt him rest his head on the crook of your neck. You suddenly went numb, but tried to see his face one more time, and to your suprise he blinked, trying to open his eyes, with a smile so angelic, for a person with such devilish persona.

"Good morning, Meine Liebe" he said, his voice husky and raspy. You couldn't help but blush at they way these words came out from him, "Good morning," you managed to reply, your own voice contracts to his was soft, barely above a whisper.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. "About last night..." he started, trailing off as if searching for the right words.

"Yeah?" you gulped, suddenly feeling scared about what he might say next. "I meant every word ," he confessed, his gaze locking with yours. "And I meant that kiss too." Your heart skipped a beat, realizing that everything didn't happened in dreamland. It was real, just like the feelings between the both of you.

"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted, feeling overwhelmed by his intense but loving gaze. "You don't have to," he assured you, moving the hand that rested behind your head to pinch the check he kissed you not a moment ago. "Just know that we are together from now on.”

As you absorbed his words, a mixture of disbelief and joy washed over you. 

"Together, huh?" you echoed, seeking confirmation in his eyes. Kaiser nodded, his expression serious yet filled with a warmth that melted your worries away. "Yes, together. Me and you, like a couple."

A wide smile broke across your face, and you couldn't contain the happiness within you. "I like the sound of it.” you replied, as he smiled back at you. "Glad to hear that, Erdbeere." As you settled back into the warmth of his embrace, a comfortable silence wrapped around both of you. 

"My uncle will kill you tho." Kaiser chuckled, as he played with your hair. "Don't worry about it, he won't."

Somewhere in the hotel restaurant, Uncle Franz was on the verge of killing the first thing he saw because Kaiser was late for breakfast, and so were you. “I am going to kill that boy.”

1 MONTH LATER:

Kaiser touched the strands of his overgrown and messy hair as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, "I need a change," he said to Ness, who was glad to do anything for his friend.

“Like a new hairstyle?” The magician asked, wondering what was wrong with his long hair. “Yeah, Y/N said that it was getting in the way, when we cuddled. And also tying it up while playing every second bothers me.”

“Well, I am willing to help, we should have scissors in the cupboards. Go sit while I find them.” the striker sat down in the chair in front of the mirror when his friend returned with the scissors.

With tentative snips and Ness transformed Kaiser's lion mane into a stylish cut, an improvised mullet you can say. As the blonde boy was looking at himself in the big bathroom mirror, and Ness admiring his final product a knock was heard from the door. You entered with a plastic bag full of snacks — it was their day off, so you thought you’d spoil them a little but.

Proudly, he turned to you, his girlfriend of one month, to hear your opinion. "Yes, definitely! And why not add something more? How about dying the mullet blue? It will match with your tattoo."

“Sounds nice, but we don't have blue dye right now.” Kaiser said, knowing that he will have to ask Ness to go to the store to buy one, “Don't worry, I do.” 

“Liebe, why do you carry hair dye in your bag?” he asked, surprised by the fact you had the item in your backpack “Well, I thought you would need one, intuition I guess.” No, it wasn't an intuition, he just talked everyday about wanting to dye his hair blue and you decided to carry a blue dye, just in case.

Women's intuition is a scary thing, he will know from now on not to mess up anything, because either way, you'll find out. But that was a worry for another day, now Kaiser was very happy with the end results. And it's the Michael Kaiser you will see from now on. 

7 YEARS LATER:

Inside a very beautiful and cozy home, you tried to catch your energetic daughter, Mikaela, who was bubbling with excitement as the day of her dad’s arrival from the football tournament marked on the calendar finally came. Her giggles filled the air as she darted around the house, her tiny feet pattering against the floor, as you yelled while holding your 9-month-old son Matteo in your arms, who was laughing and clapping his hands at the sight, as you attempted to catch the energetic 4-year-old girl. “Mika, please stop running around, or you will hurt yourself.”

“Mama, I can't hear you!” How can she take so much from him, but not me? Just as you attempt to hold onto her tiny hand, the doorbell chimes. "It's Daddy!" Mikaela rushes to the door tip-toeing to reach the handle of the metal and swings it open, revealing your husband standing there, a wide grin on his face at the sight of his daughter.

Kaiser's heart swells with joy at the sight of his daughter waiting for him at the door. He bends down to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her as she squeals with delight. "Hey there, my little princess!" he exclaims, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

As Mikaela showers him with hugs and kisses, Kaiser spots Matteo nestled in his wife's arms, a smile spreading across the baby's face as he reaches out his chubby arms towards his father. With a chuckle, Kaiser takes Matteo from you, exchanging a loving glance before enveloping you in a warm embrace, holding you close as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

But their tender moment is interrupted by Mikaela's voice piping up, "Daddy, what about me?" she pouts, her arms outstretched towards her father. Kaiser laughs heartily, balancing Matteo in one arm as he bends down to scoop Mikaela up into his arms once more. He showers her with kisses, making her giggle as he sets her down, as she eagerly reaches out for the brightly wrapped present he’s been hiding behind his back, giving you some time to see each other up close, and not from the small telephone screen.

But before Mikaela can even fully enjoy her new toy, Matteo starts wriggling in his arms. "My little boy missed me too, right?" he coos, as the baby starts laughing from happiness, kicking his little feet, "See Y/N, I told you he is a future football star. Look at that kick!"

As Kaiser holds Matteo, you wrap your arms around him again. "Welcome home, my love," you whisper, giving his lips a little peck. Kaiser returns the embrace, holding you close as he breathes in the familiar scent of home. Just when you think the moment couldn’t get any sweeter, Mikaela pipes up, tugging at Kaiser’s sleeve. "Daddy, what about me? I want more kisses too!" she exclaims, puckering her lips in exaggerated anticipation.

Kaiser chuckles warmly, bending down to scoop Mikaela up once again. "Of course, sweetheart," he says, planting a flurry of kisses on her cheeks as she laughs at her father's teasing and you watch with a smile on your face your small loving family, and how you can't ask for more because you have him and you love him more than anything.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[comfortless]

Only Other

chapter two of three.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, mentions of an arranged marriage with a large age gap, slight sexism, descriptions of violence & gore, more groping, allusions to abduction, dubious consent to a nonsexual genital inspection, animal death, minor character death, masturbation.

wc: 10.6k.

<- previous.

Everything feels unsound, a thicket of heavy vine curling it’s way up from the dirt to settle over you, in your belly, hair, anywhere. Sharp thorns and sap so thick you could drown.

Gaius is here, again, poised with his arms folded over his chest. You swallow thickly after you ask him to repeat what he’s just said. Something about eyes and ears between every crevice, beneath every board. He had a litany of reasons to believe you were not the sweet little maiden he had promised a halfway decent life to.

Careful as you thought you were, sneaking past the gate to roll in moonlight with the giant men of myth and smell the beasts and their pelts past the wall… The following morning had been the downfall of bliss. People take note when wolves begin to sniff around their cattle, and it’s no surprise that König was noted doing just that when he brought you back here on his horse with some sort of bloated pride when he named you his ‘Göttin’.

“Disrobe,” Gaius commands for the second time. The voice that comes from cracked lips and weathered jowls never falters: always so self-assured, stern, and where it may have sparked an interest in you from anyone else, here… it only feels vile. He’s the embodiment of the city itself: worn, cracking, splintered filth, left alone to wind and twist out of control.

You imagine he must have taken up the demeanor during his days as a centurion, but your head clouds when you try to recall the many times he’s monologued those times to you. Like his proposal, the dowry and arrangements, all of it feels blurry in your mind. You lose yourself to it when the strap is slipped down your shoulder, your body goading you do as asked for the sake of fewer future headaches.

There are no lemures looming over your shoulders these days, they only guide his hand, his voice. They haunt you in the shape of Gaius, an old hawk that screeches the commands you’ve no place to refuse.

The stola drops to your ankles with a dreadfully slow sweep, a century passed in a bolt of lightning. It pools down at your feet in a river of white. Graciously, Gaius doesn’t prompt you to remove the breast band where the truth of your bout lies embedded in little bruises, the mark of teeth scraped right by your areola in a rolling fit of passion.

Your betrothed boxes you in against the bench until the backs of your knees meet the wood, guides you down with weighty palms until you’re seated: feet pressed onto the seat, knees brought back toward your chest. In earnest, your stomach froths with a displeasure and embarrassment, but this is not the first time that the man had taken to inspect your pussy as if it’s your only worth in the world.

Whichever malady he possesses to make him like this… you could only hope that König did not have it. This weak, old soldier would be nothing short of a toothless dog should your bull take to charge him.

What was a dull glimmer of longing for his safety immediately sours to a wish for his goring when those cold fingers tug your loincloth aside and you’re laid bare for him right there on the bench.

The old creep inspects your cunt as though he were a medicinal woman. His fingers part your parched labia, not so much as a dewdrop of arousal there— completely unlike how your body had only seemed to melt and sing its pleas for König. He doesn’t whisper his pleasures in Latin about how pretty it is down there, doesn’t capture your mouth in a kiss that scorches you right through, only probes and prods at your slit to see if there’s any give.

Of course there isn’t.

It wouldn’t have mattered if you let the entire barbarian camp take their turns with you; you wouldn’t be any more blooming for Gaius. Men like him didn’t have the slightest idea of how to make a lady soft and dewing, they only thought that they did.

You knew with a certainty that this wasn’t normal by any stretch. After the first instance, asking the women nestled against their open windows, humming to sleeping infants curled on their chests only prompted sympathetic stares. “Have you no midwife?,” one had replied, face paled as she looked to you: the pitiable woman who had been inspected like a strange fish just for bartering with a man at his market stall for bread. Gaius had not found a thing then, and you had only begun to doubt his intelligence.

… Did he even know what a hymen was?

You will keep your secrets, and he will always play the fool. That’s just how peace would operate once you did share a roof with him.

“Well?,” you prompt, shifting a little in your seat when his cold fingers move to grip the plush of your parted thighs, examining closer with a low, raspy gasp.

A feint that earns no response.

Seemingly satisfied by a lack of a shimmering semen trail or whatever dullards like Gaius sought, he scowls and backs away, hands falling to his sides. There’s no bulge stirring beneath his toga, either. There’s an absence of anything that would make your relationship seem anything more than some strange transaction.

If anything at all, you have become a kept dove, clipped wings and cooing in a gilded cage. No more a wife than a pet or a pretty, glittering jewel. Something meant to waste away its days possessed.

You didn’t even know why he had chosen you, a lady with no gold, silk, or land to her name. Everything you owned he had given to you. Father, mother… whether or not you even had siblings, you were uncertain. Trying to remember only stirs up another aching in your head and you’ve had more than enough to worry about lately without the added sting,

“You’ve done no wrong.” It’s decided in a cold tone of voice. There’s a belief there, but only because the truth of the matter would make him look entirely the part of the fool that he seemed to play without notice.

“As I said.” You won’t run pleading to Juno for her forgiveness this time, or ever again. For the goddess of marriages and women to bless you with… this. Surely she never favored you very much at all.

You wouldn’t waste your bronze coins on fortune tellers anymore, either.

“Mind your words, girl.” He pats your cheek, feigning an affection that has never been present in this villa, in this city at all. You feel little more than like one of the slave girls— not whipped into submission, their plight was always far worse, but if you looked into their eyes for a moment too long, you knew you would find a part of yourself held there.

You nod your head and carry on puppeting yourself as you always have. Conversation comes stiffly as he wanders about your little home, noting what would need fixing before the night of your wedding, checking your food stores and even helping himself to a bone cup filled with wine. Even with it offered to your lips, speaking with him does not come any easier.

Finally, you utter the words that have nagged at the back of your throat since the day of his proposal, “Why do you want for us to be wed?”

The man pauses as he sets the cup aside, finger drumming at the rim momentarily as he regards you with an upturned brow.

“Your father’s dying wish was for us to be married.”

“Yes, but… who was he?”

“A great warrior.” That’s the only explanation you ever get, even when the confusion paves way to a simmering concern. How could you not remember your own kin? It seemed so unfathomable. Seeing so many large families walk these same streets as you… and yet you only had Gaius, hardly better company than a corpse.

“That’s all that you ever tell me.”

“… You will make a great wife.” He concludes the conversation, gives you a firm kiss on the cheek and leaves you to stew in the nothingness that haunts this place as though it were an ancient tomb.

Your days remain the same, nothing ever changing in your eternal cage that only grows ever-colder, more and more like a crypt.

Stitching, weaving, flowing. The animals needed tending, the marketplace was always bustling, and you’ve stopped listening to the poets. Their words only make you feel colder now.

You have met the things that lurk beyond these walls, and they do not speak of bubbling creeks and your gods; they soak their weapons in you, whisper like the trees and bellow like the mountains, ride their horses into battle without a scrap of armor on their hides. They don’t even fear the lemures or Jupiter’s lightning strikes. Maybe not even the changing seasons; harvests must be plentiful when your home isn’t surrounded by chalked clay and ivory.

You don’t turn to Juno any more, but you do turn to Mars. You pray not for the empire, but for his bastard.

Her altar had been tucked away to a corner of your room, replaced now by a stagnant cup of wine you dutifully purge and refill each night, a stray dagger you had acquired from a thieving child on the street, and a strip of red fabric torn away from an old tunic belonging to your betrothed.

When night comes and the weight of it all curls over your shoulders, you find yourself tugged down to the floor on your knees, whispering great fortune for that arrogant beast who had promised to take you to bed when next you meet. It always starts the same, your voice pleads to Mars, only to dither off to murmurings of a different name.

Though he remains distant, barking and bleeding out prey far from you, some semblance of him remains tucked between your ribs. A small echo, one that only seems to grow into a roar when your eyes close and you dream of wolves and their sharp-fanged promises, wisps of wind through low-hanging branches and not paved streets, dirt giving way beneath your feet.

He holds you in those dreams, whispers to you about your false gods when you stand over a stream, points out the only two in existence amidst the reflection with a curled finger.

In those dreams, you think you hear the voice of Mars, a fluttering leaf on the breeze detached from what he’s come to be: it tells you of thyme and rosemary, a foreign glade, of death and longing, and never does it breathe fire.

Then, you wake, ripped from the Elysian and back to wander Orcus with a heavier weight upon your soul.

— — —

Mars answers your prayers in the late autumn.

You do not wake to the sounds of horses or crackling fires outside, only something quieted and peaceful. The street beyond your window is silent as you stretch out to see what’s stirred you; not an animal or a man lies in wait, only the cool gloom of the moon tucked beneath clouds above.

Time only seems to pass more viciously these months. There’s a wedding to be had when the seasons changed; your yellow-red veil had been stitched with trembling fingers nicked several times over by needle, the lectus had been prepared and set on the first floor of the villa. The red cloth covering the modest couch seemed a threat in itself. You don’t hazard it a glance when you wander out of the door to take to the street tonight.

Dim moonlight does little to guide you, only making each shadow seem to stretch and warp in mocking, uninvited guests to set your shivering heart spinning.

There is just no time anymore, not here.

There, sits an owl atop a roof. Its dark wings stretched out as if to begin another flight, to coo its retribution to the sleeping city. You don’t dare to attempt to capture it, there would be no ritual tonight and no care if some harbinger brought doom to this place. It regards you with shimmering yellow eyes, and you think, for just a moment that you see the same feral look in them that you saw in your warrior. The bird wasn’t always the omen that others may claim, sometimes it’s only a sign.

The son of Mars has returned, his horse is waiting to take you upon its broad back and carry you to the mountains and the sea.

The chill on the breeze only guides each step you take as you clamber through that chipping hole in the wall and flee to the field once again. Strangely enough, the air even feels different out here, colder still but devoid of the shadows that climb and crush. The soldiers usually stationed outside the wall are not present now. You only reason that it was rare that they ever were, anyway, always too bathed in wine and kisses from flighty little women slaves to focus on the scape just beyond.

And there, further out from the opposite bank the stream, you see the glow of a fire.

It was strange to see the Goths had returned before your city’s own soldiers. Perhaps you had slept through their march, tucked away at some vast banquet filled with pillaged riches, the finest of wines and the most fresh of smoked meats before you had even begun to stir. Peculiar thing, being so accustomed to the rituals of men that for the most part you had learned not to even bat an eye. It mattered not, anyhow. What you sought was not another Roman to steal away your aspirations to take you as his woman.

Your pace is light and tentative, feeling the earth sink and mold around your bare soles. The thorns risen up from grass dare not poke you with their spines, the owls lurking in the trees do not chase or call, and the horses in the pastures seem at ease.

Even in a world bathed in black and silver, you feel golden, warmed from temple to ankle by that someone other lurking just beyond reach. The other gods could be condemned— it was Mars at your side all along.

The barbarian camp is in a similar state to when you had first seen it, just as you are with the ends of your gown drenched in water from the stream.

There are fewer to their numbers now. You count only three: two busied away with roasting meat over the fire, one running his blade over a flat stone at the mouth of his tent. You recognize them, somewhat, as you step closer, each just as imposing as the first with thick hair and wild eyes, but there’s no sign of König, not here in the open.

You’re stricken by fear immediately, clouding your head with doubt and worry: not for your own safety, but at the thought that your warrior was left to rot in the forests beyond, struck down by some other barbarian king.

You’re stood at the edge of the camp when your breath grows thin, pulse racing as your veins try in earnest not to burst with panic.

One of the men rises from the fire, gruffs something at you in his mother tongue, a deep rumbling like the rocks of old mountain and the timber of trees: like König. He stands before you, a wild mane of dyed hair atop his head, so deeply crimson and maroon you would even think it had been colored with blood from sheep or man, perhaps both.

He claps you on the back with a strong hand, the shove nearly enough to send your shivering form tumbling to the dirt, before you’re righted with a strong grip on your wrist. Then, he laughs.

“Come. König,” the man barks in his heavily accented voice, tugging at your wrist as if you were a mere calf to herd.

Your panic dulls somewhat, enough to wriggle out of his grip and shoot him a glare you had only previously reserved for your betrothed. Intent on playing the part of some strong yet benevolent noble woman it seemed, as you straighten yourself out and ignore the way that the mud and blades of grass stick right to the dirtied hem of your loose robe.

“He is here?” You ask after a moment, feeling a bit misplaced as this other, less familiar giant stares down at you. His eyes are not blue, but gold when the light of the fire pit illuminated him.

This one does not understand as much as you had hoped, because he only murmurs more incomprehensible words and pushes your forward with a palm placed right between your shoulder blades.

You don’t trip, but you had half a mind to hiss at him then, until you realize he is only leading you towards that same ugly tent from before.

The pelts have been changed out, somewhat. There is less gray now and more brown, hides from deer and boar alike, taken from their months of travel. The maroon fabric remains, layered beneath in such a way that seems to make it only seem more alive and bleeding this time.

“Keep warm.” The man speaks up again, and there is no mistaking the amusement in his voice. Insulting, what he dared to insinuate with those two words, yet… there’s a cloud of fuzzy, warm excitement billowing up between your breasts all the same.

The flap of the tent is held up by your own trembling hand, elation tinged with an anxiety, a clustering song played without harmony in your very bones. Though, it settles so easily when the light of the moon mingles with the candles within the cradle of wool and leather.

König is sat, recognizable from his very being, laden with scars and coarse light fur, vast as he had always been. However, his face has changed. Gone is the bleeding shroud you had seen upon him before: the cloth has been tossed away on the mattress, revealing a face that both chills and heats you to the very base of your being.

His face is not unlike others you have seen, maybe upon gladiators a time or two once the helmets were discarded and the dancing with beasts and men alike had subsided. There are scars there, too, a broken face revealing a menagerie of pain from the bump upon his nose to the chip in his tooth as he smiles. His eyelids are still smeared in darkened mud used to make him seem that much more sinister in battle, streaking down his cheeks not unlike the carmine that tended to use to paint your own.

Those eyes though… they stand out above all else, heart wrenching and sullen, and still, they rise to crease at the outer corners when his stare meets your own.

A man with more polish would have concealed the state of himself from a maiden; turned his face away and covered his nudity in the furs lining his mattress. You’re thankful that König is not like those men. His stare is as open as his body’s own articulation: he only lies back into the bed and beckons you near with a curl of his fingers to his calloused palm.

“I made offerings for you.” To you, but thankfully that phrasing doesn’t make its way out. You take your place on his mattress, carefully placing a palm over his chest just to feel— to touch, to be nearer to your god in some way. The time apart hasn’t been entirely cruel, but ‘kind’ would never suit it well either.

Your touch is answered by a heavy grip around your forearm, a gentle yet demanding tug that leaves you sprawled across him like some tiny animal gripping onto a tree: your head presses against his bare stomach, one hand tucked to your chest while the other is quickly pulled up to meet his mouth. König kisses you, right on your palm in some peculiar sort of reverence.

“Your blessing was enough.” You feel his mouth stretch, the brush of teeth against your flesh as he grins, something you’ve missed.

It’s a ruse; there are winding strips of fabric haphazardly tied over his chest, thick with the stench of iron. The blood is dried, but you could only imagine the state of the wound beneath it. Months upon months of travel with a chest wound… your heart crumbles, struck with worry then.

The seax sits intact, however, propped up against one of the wooden poles keeping the shelter in place. Even sheathed, you could assume with how dutifully the barbarian cared for his blade that it had been cleaned, sharpened and greased to keep rust at bay. Though the benevolence he had coaxed from you had not saved him, a part of you was almost pleased to see the weapon unscathed.

“You’re hurt,” you hear yourself say, far away, out amidst the turning leaves that surely watched him take a spear or a dagger, maybe even an arrow, toward his beating heart.

“Hm…? Men get hurt in battles, meine Göttin,” he says, so nonchalant, as though the fear of dying out amongst the trees and hungry animals did not exist for him at all. “You worry?”

You pull your hand away from him when he playfully nips at your fingertips; even wounded König seems more inclined to bite and make you squeal than settle into this expanse of fur to rest and heal.

Of course you’re worried, men fall to mere scrapes in time: grime coaxes its way in, wounds fester with an almost laughable ease, infection paves way for fever and…

“Take care of me…?” König’s voice comes soft, the softest you’ve heard. Gone now is that boyish, mocking lilt, replaced by something akin to trepidation. Fear for him does not come from the shouting of men with blades held high, but in small whispers begging for affection.

“Sure…”

The ruddy bandages are pried away from his chest by gentle hands, uncurled and left on the dirt floor to the side of the bed. The wound in his chest is not as severe as you had expected, a few centimeters deep, jagged as it curves upward… whoever had done this had not had the opportunity to properly pierce him before the offending weapon had been pried from their hands. Crushed. Followed by what you could only imagine was the attacker’s fretful shrieks when König advanced upon him.

Your fingers brush over the wound, gentle, as you inspect the blaze of red around its edges. There’s no clear indication of infection, but when a clay jar of honey is plucked from König’s belongings and brought to your hands, you dutifully dab the wound in its sweetness.

You tell him how it will heal, using the phrases you’ve only heard from the physicians about the city, failing to mention that you had not tended to someone like this before. He breathes his appreciation in a soft rumble when you wrap his chest in strips of cloth, tightening it comfortably just to tie at his side.

“Did you kill the man who did this?,” you ask once you’ve stripped yourself bare, shed your clothing to lie in a heap with the ruined bandages he had previously worn. Your body rests at his side, arm curled over his middle. A woman’s warmth was necessary to heal a warrior… perhaps it could remedy a forgotten god, too.

“All of them,” he hums into your hair, a whisper of a voice harboring words that should chill you to your very bones. König only appears pacified as he speaks, never minding his own madness, nor the blood caked beneath his fingernails.

You ask him what these men were like, who could have been capable of wounding a man as mighty as himself, and in turn he laughs. Surely, the gash must ache, but his voice never falters when he gathers you in two treelike limbs to pull your body ever-closer to his own.

He tells you that they were familiar, that your men in their dye red tunics held their spears and struck down some of his men but could not hope to best him.

He tells you of the cowardly ambush, how the warriors of your city turned upon his own with shouts and anger after a slave woman had been released. The way the woman spoke… as if she knew more about you than you ever had, how he could not bare to watch her suffer when she even resembled you in some ways: older, but still so very much like you. He had felt killing her captor to return her to the forest was the only way he could keep your favor.

While you listen in a stasis, stuck ridged against him as your mind drifts, pulls memory from the darker corners within your skull, he strokes at your shoulder, presses his nose right up to yours.

The man who had struck him was smaller… weaker, he had not survived König’s first blow, but… There’s a frothing madness in his eyes like the sky threatening storms when he tells you that he could not bear the thought of a man that would think to harm anyone like his goddess finding a way to return. His attacker was ripped limb from limb, body burned with the rest of those that followed his order.

You remain entirely silent, taking in this whispered tale as though it were breathed from the mouths of the gods themselves.

You never needed to pray to Mars, to Juno, to Vulcan…any of them. The embodiment of fear lies as a welcomed presence next to you, stroking along your back as though you were a mere kitten while he breathes this gory story against your lips. The smile returns when he finishes, pets at your jaw as if awaiting a reward for his perceived good deed… and you allow his madness to slip right past your teeth.

The touches brush over you like the featherlight breezes of the past spring, fingertips grazing from your waist to neck, nails leaving lightened stripes over the flesh he carefully claws at, gathering your skin, the meat from your bone, to roll between each pad of his digits. There’s further worship, a desperation to ensure that you are still here as he pants into your mouth, grips at your hip to pull you closer to where he aches the most.

There’s no pelt sprawled over his groin to hide himself from you, no thin linen to protect where he wishes to reach most. All you have is your words, and a thumb delicately rubbing over his bandage. When the kiss breaks, only then do you think to speak.

“When you’re better.”

The man makes his protests, gives his cock a few strokes as he hisses into your ear about promises, the horse, how long he’s dreamt and waited. You don’t need to be convinced, but now… your mind is riddled with what’s occurred in your months apart. Though the tension remains thick and wafting in the air between you, the physical could wait until you’re both sorted.

While you remained stuck and forlorn, struck by longing and misery, he had only found some semblance of meaning for all of what has eluded you, slayed every man who he could envision bringing you- anyone like you- harm, came back with another wound to fold over into a puffed scar.

You’ve only been waiting for your own sentencing.

Your warrior softens when your eyes begin to swim, fragile and overwhelmed as you’re tucked away beneath him. He only holds you, protective with an unwavering grip as the moon sweeps through the tent with its melancholic comfort that finally pulls the tears right from your eyes.

“Meine Göttin…,” he whispers against your temple, before you press your face into a broad shoulder, hiding tears and frail hiccuped sobs. “I prayed only to you.”

The words come barely audible, though they were never truly necessary.

You feel them in every touch, every hurried whisper as he coos his apologies in that keening voice, every kiss pressed over your warmed face when relaxation snares your limbs, and you do bloom further against him. The comfort and adoration is near staggering, taking you in and pulling you under, further below than even the rivers of your dreams and the ocean just out of reach could ever hope to.

As though this were the most natural thing…

The altars of your villa before were mere practice for the worship of lying next to your own deity; bastard son or Hercules, a wolf or a wild boar, none of it mattered.

He sighs, cups your face to kiss you just once more, something far more chaste than what you’ve come to know from him; the small peck to your lips holds more weight than the clatter of teeth and tongue from before. When you begin to drift off to a dream of a glade filled with nymphs where the trees breathe sap that tastes of honeysuckle, all bathed in the glow of starlight, you only feel the need to silently pray for one last thing: that he will never let you go.

— — —

It’s only on the seventh morning that you come to a realization over a breakfast of figs and water from the stream just below the hill— one that you haven’t been home. You feel at home enough here. The stuffy villa seems only a distant memory when you’re seated across from him, the giant who showers you in so much love it feels warmer than the great flames of Vulcan’s own fury.

No one has come to seek you out, either. Gaius had to have had an idea, should he have even bothered to search for you in that now desolate home. The few soldiers you have witnessed on their patrolling across the field never seem to turn an eye to the barbarian camp. You fill your pots with water, taking aid from König’s men, and never once have they turned to you.

Judgment always seemed so swift with all apart from destiny. You reason that this is surely what it must be, a destiny painted high above in the stars on nights where the mist does not curl up to conceal them from your gaze. You watch them sometimes, when König relaxes his grip in sleep: you turn to the outside of the tent to stare up at the expanse of stars and hear the stories of this nameless king from the mouths of the very men who have braved each storm with him.

They tell you in shattered language of stories you know with a certainty must not be entirely true. They range from talk of the hundred wives König supposedly had that he released all when he met you, of the temples built in his name all lined with gold and the names of jewels you had never once heard spoken, of how he had even slain your great god Jupiter… You have always listened with great amusement, wondering just how highly he must speak of you to have his men lie for him so brazenly.

Laughter follows you back to König’s tent each night, waiting to hear the cries of their king expending his love upon you that never come. You tend to his wound, observing its healing as the days come and go, and with each rebirth of the sun, his touch only seems to grow more imploring, his words sweeter than even the fruit held up in your palm.

In the haze of the morning sun spilling in from the parted flap of the tent, his eyes seem alight with an unnatural flame when he pulls you in to seat you upon one of his muscular thighs, far too rowdy for an injured man. You think not to refuse him when he laps at the juice from the fruit that has trickled down your chin.

“I love you.” He professes his devotion in that same pleading voice, an arm curled around your middle to keep you securely in place. Another thing that you never needed the words spoken to know.

You bring a fig up to his mouth, feed him with a kiss to his cheek and a whispered confession of your own. From the moment you saw him tending to his seax on the bank, your heart had become a howling, skittering animal in the cage of your ribs. You murmur words stolen from the poets against his jaw, about love and flowers, the mating dances of beasts and gods alike. With each word spun, he clutches you tighter, echoes them in his mother tongue.

The confession ends in a kiss that leaves you cloudy, aloft, a union of tongue and soft panting that leaves each nerve thrumming rapidly. The bowl of fruit slips from your lap, left to scatter over the ground forgotten.

König lowers you to lie back on the bed, teeth nipping and raking down along the column of your throat, over your pulse… back to your breasts that he caresses in two large palms.

“Not yet,” you remind him. His touch grows more insistent, thumbs pressed to your nipples to roll over them until your back arcs and your thighs tremble. “You’ll open your wound…”

“I am fine,” he huffs when he releases you from such delicious torture. “Let me…”

You can not bring yourself to tell him the true reasons as to why you can not. Not yet. You’re a mere stroll away from the city’s beckoning gates, from the place where you’re set to be wed only a fortnight from now. The mouth of Orcus that will drag you back in and keep you caged away from him… it would be too bittersweet to make your passions clear when your doom still imposes upon you with just a glance outside. If it ever comes… and you silently begged to any greater thing that it never would.

“When you’re healed… when you take me away from here,” you promise.

König listens in his own way. You see a flash of mischief when he separates from you with one final generous squeeze to your breast. This isn’t just the casual acceptance that comes with children being scolded, but an urgency to contend your words, a desire to prove himself buried in those shimmering eyes.

“Meine Göttin thinks that I am weak, hm?”

“That is not what I said.”

“I will show you.”

All at once, König rises from the mattress, casually shedding the bandage over his chest to discard it. You want to protest to whatever it is that he’s doing, but you knew very little of the minds of these men, their proclivities and desires, only that above all his intentions only seemed to be to prove himself worthy of worshiping at your feet, between your parted thighs…

As if to taunt you, the stiffened cock between his own legs bounces, drools when he stands. Your head spins as you force yourself to sit up and look into his eyes instead.

“What are you doing?,” you ask when he gathers his seax from the place he’s left it propped up, followed swiftly bu the pelt he usually donned around his middle with its leather straps and worn, gray fur.

“We will go on a hunt, hm? I will show you how…” He trails off with a grunt as he fastens the straps, finally conceals the pale, proud pillar when the fur comes to cover his groin. The seax follows as it’s tied to his narrow hip, the pommel glinting in low light as he approaches the opening of the tent and gestures for you to follow.

He should not be going on a hunt, and you… still did not even possess a weapon to aid in such an endeavor. Still, the thought of seeing him actually in the midst of a heated battle stills your breath for a moment, spurs you forward to follow along behind him.

The men around the camp speak with him for a time, prattling on in their mother tongue, gesturing out towards the trees with grins brimming with excitement. They all seem enticed by the prospect of felling some noble creature to drag back to their camp, make a true sacrifice for the goddess made mortal that lurks here. König dismisses them with a wave of his hand, clearly intent on being the only one to gift you such an offering.

He barks an order to the man that led you to his tent, and within moments this other man brings a Roman spear to your warrior, recognizable by its intricate engravings and barbed tip. König weighs it in his hands for a moment, glances back at you with a grin that simply screams his satisfaction of holding a trophy pried from the grip of one of your own detestable soldiers.

You follow after him through the dense forest bordering the clearing. The trees have long since shed their summer green, replaced instead by reds and golds, the dead falling to bathe the forest floor in bronze and brown. König walks slowly as to not cause too much sound to pass beneath the weight of his bulky body, encouraging you to do the same in a hushed demand with each crunching leaf beneath your soles.

Finally, he comes to a halt overlooking a small ridge that overlooks a small clearing. The brush and thickets rise high here, no doubt the birthing place of brambles and thorns, ground passive and untouched by all except the animals hiding within trees and bedded down in burrows. One still walks, awake and alert, a brilliant red stag with antlers more vast than even the horns of the bulls sent off to play war with the gladiators.

The creature is stationary, chewing cud with each movement of its dainty little jaw. It’s tail twitches, ears flicking on occasion when a bird swoops too close or the sound of a snapping twig out in the distance echoes through the forest. It’s a beautiful, delicate thing, but still strong and sturdy. The stag looks perfectly at peace here, not noting the wolf that watches over the ridge.

By the time that the deer does catch sight of König, it’s already too late. The arm holding the long spear is already pulled back and raised high. When the creature moves to resume its prance, the weapon is sent spiraling through the air, twisting and spinning in the absence of a breeze like a living thing until its point is found bedded in the stag's protruding belly.

The creature bleats in pain, writhes and kicks as it comes crashing down to a bed of brittle leaves that clamor beneath its weight. You close your eyes when you see the ground painted with blood from its seeping wound, and König begins to descend upon it. There are other sounds that follow, thudding blows in quick succession that leaves very little to your imagination; you’re only grateful he brought such a pretty thing a swift death.

You walk ahead of him on the way back to camp as he carries the animal’s corpse, politely telling him that if you look, you will not eat.

He gives his spoils to the other men once you’ve reached the camp again. They cheer, readying their blades to carve the creature up for a meal of venison and whatever amount of wine remains in their stores. The rations had been cut off since the others had failed to return, it wouldn’t be long until there was no wine left without one of them fetching work for coin within the city and purchasing it himself; still, König ensures that your cup is filled to the rim with it’s tart sweetness, grape with notes of something earthy, a mixture of thyme embedded into it to bless it with scent like a pomander.

You seat yourself in his lap, looking every part of a pretty earthen goddess as he presses his face to your bare shoulder, traces shapes into your hip while you sip from your cup. His men do not stare, either, regardless of your state of nudeness. There’s respect here, embedded into their flesh, their beliefs, and you only feel the part of a noblewoman when you take note of it. You are not just any man’s woman, but their leader’s most revered treasure.

The others pick apart your harvest of flesh, hang the skins to dry for further use, the antlers and bone left in a heap to be cleaned, then sharpened and carved. Your stare is appreciative as you watch them work away, never having seen this side of things from your modest villa. A fire is stoked when the usable meat is peeled away from what remains of the bones, ribs and femur, others that you could not hope to name.

“See?” König chimes as he takes hold of your hip, squishing you closer, tighter amidst the space of his palm. “Not weak..,” he hums into the hair at the back of your neck.

His touching grows more persistent, eager as the tips of his fingers graze your inner thigh; though appeased, you were not keen on the idea of straddling him before the eyes of his men as though you were only a breeding pair of foxes, screeching your passions into the forest for birds and bears to hear. When a throb resounds from his stroking, you wind yourself away to sit at his side instead, jaw resting on his knee and cup raised up to hide your breasts from his field of view.

“I did not say you were. Just hurt.”

He gives an impatient grunt in response, but allows you to linger in this new position, taking to stroke at your face and shoulders instead.

When the meat is cooked to their standards, still bloody and near raw to your own, the men chatter away between mouthfuls and thick swallows of their wine. You try to keep up, forcing yourself to commit some of their more common turns of phrase to mind— obvious yeses and nos, the way that they call one another, the names that would sound strange on your tongue but suit the others all the same. When your expression falls to confusion, König whispers translations into your ear; they’re discussing the Romans… what they will do if their rations are cut entirely, something about a deal struck before your interest summers and you resort to eating the venison you hood in silence.

It is not that you feel out of place, only lost. These men live in a separate world entirely: there is no talk of ironed out politics, organized festivities, of weddings an plotting for farmland. There is laughter here, even song when one of the trio seated across from you and König begins to bark out a loud chorus from a tune that your warrior so sweetly explains to you is about a woman who ventured out to elope with a cave-dwelling bear. Peculiar wild men that they were, you don’t even bother to question how that could ever possibly work.

When the afternoon sinks into the coziness of evening, you walk hand in hand with König back to his tent, and just as with any other night, there are cheerful, foreign goads and tedious little sounds elicited behind you. The wine had you peaceful for a time, but its haze has since passed. Your sheepishness is apparent at the implication, but the wolfish grin König shoots back at his men is anything but.

You know he expects to fulfill his promise entirely— make you his lover, wife, whatever he seems to see you as. That could not happen… as much as you thrum for him with each brush of his warm palm against your backside or upon your face, eternally gazing up at him with your dumb and doting stare.

To your credit: when his gaze crawls over you to take every bare expanse of flesh in, he only sees a beauty that he seemingly can not comprehend. The tells range from the tightening of his jaw, the twitch of each digit when they meet your skin, the way his nostrils glare and eyelids sag. His profession from earlier was anything except just that: it was a truth.

As he strips away his pelt and sets his blade aside, your hands rise to press against his shoulders, forbidding him to go any further than this simple reveal. And you speak true, explaining your exasperating engagement with the foul man who made certain you were spied upon, your distaste for your life within the walls itself, and lastly the marriage that would occur once the seasons did change.

Your eyes feel nothing short of pure liquid when you seat yourself upon his mattress for what you assume would be the very last time. Your voice tapers when you reveal that those very reasons were why you had come to him that night for the horse, why you came back even now.

König listens until your voice is reduced to a somber whisper, broken up by weak sniffles. The flirtation in his gaze is lost, and there’s no grin that splits apart his thin lips. You think that, if he asked you if you felt similarly to him then, that you would break down in full, but he doesn’t.

Instead he hisses something in his mother tongue, a singular word: “Scheiße.” Then, another laugh is coaxed from his throat, the dozenth that you must have heard this night alone. He seems fully unperturbed, unbothered when he descends upon you as if you were nothing more than the very deer he had slaughtered earlier.

“It is fine. Alles gut.” He covers your face in kisses, biting at your cheek when you squirm against him. “I can fight him, hm?”

Stupid… so terribly impulsive and cute. You sigh as if exasperated with him, but envelope him in your embrace anyway.

“I just want to be free of all of it,” you explain in a hushed voice.

“Then we will be free,” he confirms. We. No longer just yourself, and you almost bring yourself to ask if he has truly meant it before you're reminded of his declaration with a swift kiss that punches the air from your chest and leaves you shivering.

You hold him tighter still, fingers weaving into his hair to massage at his scalp and draw back in a tug when his head cocks to nip at your jaw. Again, always, he encompasses you, pulls you down into darkened water that warms and thumbs around you. You lose yourself more and more with each touch, thumb brushing over the pulse of your neck, teeth nipping at your clavicle, the brush of his groin as he rolls his hips to meet the plushness of your thigh.

You ache, cry when he guides your nipple into his mouth, languidly lapping over you until his salivating is evident over your tit. He only grows less patient the more vocal you become; one hand remains played to the side of your head while the other steadily slinks down past your naval, trails off to grasp at you hip and steer you closer before descending lower, where only his blade had dared venture before.

“I have dreamt of this, meine Göttin,” he purrs when he shifts his hips. His cock rests heavy over your thigh, weeping the sheerness of its own demand to paint your flesh. He guides your hand there to palm at his steadily growing arousal, curls your hand around his length and guides it up to stroke.

His chest rumbles his pleasure as he groans against your cheek; the sounds are somehow more surprising than the ones you had heard outside the brothels. Before König… never had you heard a man voice his pleasure, and though it may have been emasculating to some, it only makes you wet, there where his fingers reach to pet once he’s satisfied with the pace you’ve set as you pleasure him.

Your thumb grazed over the flushed tip, smearing the preejaculate that drools from it, his hips buck then. Your own sounds join his chorus when he ghosts a fingertip over the hood of your clit, buried his middle finger into your cunt. The entire ordeal is lazy, lazy as the slow kisses that connect your panting mouths.

With each twitch of your wrist as you milk his cock, you’re met with a finger probing deeper. At some point, one becomes two, a try for three before he draws back and realizes you’re too close to begin to take anymore.

“Tight..,” he appraises in a low voice, tongue lapping over your teeth as you writhe at his side.

You pick up pace at his praise, adoringly offering him your love with quickened sweeps of your hand, of your thumb over the weeping head, until he begins to throb in your hold. König mutters a curse against your jaw as he struggles to keep his hand steady then, bludgeoning you with his fingers, circling your clit until you begin to whine.

The heat builds within you so quickly you begin to see the night sky beneath your eyelids— an expanse of stars, of glowing blooms, and all at once the heat becomes too much. You curl into yourself, struggling to keep the demanding cock in your grip as you grind your hips down upon his hand to ride out your orgasm, bleary eyes and weakened by the intensity of it all you merely muffle your cries against his waiting mouth.

It takes no time at all for him to finish then, thick spurts of white seed paint up from your mound to your belly, coating your fingers in its stickiness. He hurts his teeth through it, intent on stifling the desperate little sounds building up in his throat, kisses you with even more fervor when you bless him with another tug to milk out every last viscous drop as it kicks and throbs in your hand.

He settles briefly, trailing kisses from your jaw to shoulder, then rises to part your legs with a strong grip around each thigh. For a moment, you almost think he’s prepared to fuck you proper, but the thought dissipates when he gathers his own seed over the head of his still hardened cock, settles it against your cunt, and grinds his seed against your salivating hole.

Your whine is clipped and almost pained when he brushes over your clit, hips rising to pull away when you feel the tickling burn of overstimulation. It doesn’t last; satisfied that he has left his spend close enough to your pussy that he may as well have laid claim to it, he crashes down over you, head pressed between your breasts.

König’s breath still comes in a pant while he huffs his affection for you: praises, those three wonderful words again and again. His tone is tender, reverent, as he tells you that he loves you… immediately following it with a stout and crude declaration of how roughly he will fuck you when the time does come.

“Do you mean what you said…?” You find your voice when he finally stops whispering the filth of his fantasies to you, when your cunt ceases its pleading for more. Right now… it would not be as special anyhow. Your fate still lies in the grasp of another, and as much as you wished for it to align in full with him, that simply was not so.

“Ja,” he answers immediately, no hesitation when he commits himself in full to you, the Roman woman who had tamed him down with her silly whims and ache for him. “I will take you to the mountains, the sea, …the stars if you ask.”

You comb your fingers through his hair, filled with mirth as he speaks of such impossibilities. There is no place in the stars for two misplaced lovers, but you don’t dare say that. The things that fill your imaginations would leave even the poets balking, scrambling for the words pretty enough to describe a love so peculiar.

— — —

You had not questioned why they remained, that was your folly.

You had never thought that you would even care should you see the city fall. Though… dread immediately strikes your heart with ice and silver when you’re bolted awake by the sound of shrill shrieks and loud crumbling. There’s a war just beyond the veil the tent provides: loud sounds of heavy feet, shouts, even the clash of metal upon metal if only for a single stuttering beat of your heart.

Vulcan has descended, rode right through on flaming steeds with flame rising from his open maw. You know it with a certainty without even approaching the opening to look. But you do. You do move away from the empty mattress, finding the space where König had slept against you, snoring softly and tugging you closer in your bliss, entirely devoid of any warmth. The air is warm, tinged with the heat of coursing flames, but the bed is cold, frigid like the fear that cinches at your heart and steals the breath from fluttering lungs.

There’s ash in the air, falling like the first snows of winter when you make your way out of the tent, coughing into your hand as it clasps over your mouth and nose. The air is so thick, noxious and darker than even the backdrop of velvety sable marking the horizon. Your eyes track the twisting, feathering pillars of flame as they rise even higher than the wall: a gold and red death.

Shadows scramble across the field— men, women, then the horses, the bulls, that come thundering past. The animals trample and shriek: broken bones, hooves driven through skulls to erupt into mush, leaving twitching, scorched corpses in their wake.

Fire billows up only to fall and rain down, back onto the murderous beasts in some abstract punishment. You watch the puppets writhe and squeal; perhaps your own cries join them, wailing and crying out as all you’ve come to know is engulfed, smothered, destroyed. What the fire does not take, the shattering structures do.

Amidst it all is glee.

There are shouts of men on horseback that come out as the victory roars of men amidst battle, yipping and howling as all is reduced to rubble around them. Your feet do not guide you toward the chaos, they do not bring you to peace either, only far— far as you can go.

The smell alone makes it worse than it ever appeared in your dreaming. Blood, oil, cinder and ash that plummets deep down into your stomach, pushing back up to purge what became of the deer. You feel how that creature must have: alone, terrified, certain that death was biting at your heels. If you had fur it would bristle, antlers would plow through the brush to carry you to safety, but… you do not. You’ve only the ability to gather yourself enough to fall. You descend down the hill in a painful roll as your legs give out beneath you.

You want to close your eyes, to sink into the stream and bid the fire away with desperation alone. When you lower to the grass to wretch, fingers digging into the earth, your gaze snaps back to the scene just beyond the stream.

You know, know dreadfully well that the people here that have managed to escape were hunted down in a veil of inky blackness. The ghouls of myth could not compare to this… This was very real, real as the scent of cooking meat and hair and wood.

And you watch and wait for the fire to burn out, for the animals to cease their rampage and fall back to a calm that never comes.

You stand to your feet, meekly trembling before the wrath and chaos, and you wait with splintering nails clawing at your thighs and unshed tears blurring your vision. There was always a price to pay for freedom, you had seen it time and time again in gladiator pits, monetary and dull, but never this…

And you know the price for yours was paid in fire and vengeance, promised before you ever even had the notion to disappear at all. There was always tension between the Goths and your people. This was bound to come about sooner or later, but the guilt of potentially being the catalyst to it all brings you back to your knees.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring out into the abyss in silenced fear, but eventually all that fills the quiet is the dull roar of the fires still burning and the dull sounds of a horse’s trot growing nearer. Just across the bubbling little stream, untouched by the death beneath the full moon, is König atop his sable steed. The creature huffs just as König cocks his shrouded head, prompting you in his silence to say anything— deliver your blessing, your thanks, your kisses.

Yet, you can not bring yourself to deliver anything but a weak, anguished wail.

The stream is crossed before you’ve even the time to raise your head, limbs gathering you up to pull you against the broad chest of your god in the cruelest tenderness. You feel limp there, atop this frustrated horse, in the arms of the man who had sacked this city. They will come for him, kill him too… You will be alone with nothing and no one, and stupidly, you find yourself longing for the comfort of calling to Juno in that bedroom you would never see again. All of this just for pleading for the very horse you now perch upon.

He lets you cry as holds the reins in one hand and carries you away from this desolation. The horse walks further than you have ever even seen. The stream before the barbarian camp is not the only, there are orchards and glades and fields of tall grass even further beyond it. You take in the beauty as the city becomes a glimmering speck far behind you.

König only remains silent, stroking your back with his free hand, so lovingly and gentle you find it almost impossible to believe him capable of such cruelty. Your mind is tired, limbs weighty and chest aching from breathing in so much smoke. You do not even realize your exhaustion until you find yourself in a fitful sleep.

There are no dreams, no wonderful comforts, only slow breaths and pained whimpers.

When you do wake, the sun has risen in full.

You’re lying on your back amidst withering grass, a pelt thrown over your body and a figure sat at your side. There’s no longer the stench of smoke, no drab gray clouds hanging over your head. The air is light and tinged with the tartness of buckthorn. There are white, puffy clouds hanging up in the vast blue of the sky, and as you blink, a thumb moves to stroke at your cheek. Soft, so soft and even tentative when it rises to your temple.

“You should have slept longer.” König’s voice comes, not reprimanding, but in a gentle surge of breath. He sounds as exhausted as you still feel.

You’re angry… but you know not why. It feels performative, almost, when you shove his hand away. You want to wail for what you’ve lost, but that voice never comes. Gaius? A home you never liked? The lectus that would be used as a stand to consummate a marriage you had begged to avoid for months on end? What was lost?

“You are going to die.” Your whisper comes strained, tight and tinged with your own misery.

“You worry for me again?”

You shake your head at that, fierce as you turn on your side and away from him again. The dying grass digs into your flesh beneath the fur, scraping like claws, like König’s very touch.

“We are not going to die, little one,” he continues as he moves closer to you, trying to gather you up into his arms in an act of comfort. Your tension rigidly leaves you, though you try to force yourself to remain closed off, it does not happen. You mold against him when he lies at your back, hand splayed over your stomach.

“I never said we. Just you,” you huff. Your hand meets his wrist as his thumb begins to stroke at your naval. The desire to push him away again only dissolves when he winds out of your grip to take your hand into his own, forced lower to feel the cold earth and the warmth of each digit beneath your touch. “They will hunt you down.”

“Then I will die at your side.”

You don’t respond to that, finding his desire to further prove whatever this was entirely incomprehensible now. It is not endearing, you force your mind to reason. This man was more than just tedious at times, but dangerous to… To burn an entire city on a whim then curl against you like this… You whimper, keening and sorrowful as you squeeze your eyes shut— force the macabre thoughts out.

“You are like me,” König continues, a low rumble as he lowers his head to press his cheek to the side of your neck. Even amidst the chill of winter, he’s so warm, so soothing, enough to make you melt like wax from candles… perfumed by his own sweat and the ash he left in his wake, so earthy and lofty all the same. “Kleine Göttin…”

“No… I’m not.”

“You come from the mountain,” he urges with a kiss to your shoulder. His grip around you becomes more insistent with each muttered word, the pads of his fingers pressed further to dimple your skin. “The slave woman told me so.”

You didn’t know the woman he spoke of, you didn’t know anyone still living apart from himself and his men. You want to yell, to drill it into his very skull with your words, but even more than that, you want this comfort.

You want to feed him figs, allow his tongue to sip the wine from your own, and to fall asleep against him with his breath tickling at your scalp. More, to share the life with him you once promised to a deceased man buried in ash…

Truth be told you were not even sure of your standing, Roman or barbarian… Though you had never told him that, his resolute tone leads you to believe all of it. You had always longed to bathe in rivers rather than crowded bathhouses, to crest the tops of mountains and taste fresh honey on your tongue… The titan promises you all of those things and more with his tight hold and in a purred, breathy, “I love you.”

All that you could not prevent dissipates in a plume when you twist around to bury your face against that chest, curl your fingers into his hair and breathe out your resistance in its entirety. The most pitiful of surrenders.

[momoswifee]

Peaches and a Broken Car

Pairing: Mina x reader

Synopsis: Mina decides to take some time off and when she goes to her parents' house, her car suddenly breaks down leading her to meet Yn.

Warnings: The reader has abandonment issues and tbh I think that's it for now.

w/c: 5558

a/n: I've been working on this for a while now, I'm planning on making this a mini-series? I'm really excited to finally put this out and for you guys to read it! Again, I really appreciate criticism so that I can do better next time, so if you have any, please let me know :) Also big thanks to @cry4mina for their amazing brain that helped me figure out what to do with this story :)

Pt1- Pt2 -

Mina had always loved the art of performing. She found the idea of immersing herself so much in a character that she could be able to portray characters and tell their stories just by using her body language and facial expressions in a certain way fascinating. 

She loved the way she could tell stories of people for thousands of people to see, it was something she was very proud of. However, the fame that came with it was something that she wished was not part of this ordeal. Fame was something that many always wanted to achieve, the idea of being adored by many and of being an idol to others was for some their life dreams. However, Mina never wanted a loud and busy life, she had always preferred the quiet aspect of it. 

After finally finishing filming an adaptation of “All the Lovers in the Night”, which she considered to have been one of her most challenging works, she was on her very much-deserved holiday, which she planned to spend with her parents, who had recently moved to a quiet little town just an hour or so away from the city. 

“...turn left in 300 meters” 

Finally, Mina thought to herself, after hearing the GPS’s directions, showing how close she was to arriving at her parents. 

Suddenly, she hears a clicking sound before the car starts jolting.

What the hell?

Suddenly, the car comes to a halt, letting out a whooshing sound as a small cloud of smoke come out from its hood. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters as she gets out of the car after trying to park it as much to the right as possible. After a minute of silence, she tries to restart the car, in hopes it wakes up.

A glimmer of hope forms inside her as she hears the car slowly start before the familiar clicking starts again, making her turn it off, knowing she wouldn't go anywhere with that car soon.

Fuck

After the failed attempt at restarting the car, she decided to get out and see if she could call for car support so that she could get over this as quickly as possible. As soon as she’s out of the car, she's trying to call for support but soon notices that her battery is running out, making her dial the number as quickly as possible. 

“No no no no no” she mumbles as she watches her phone die. “You have got to be kidding me” she almost screams in exasperation. 

I cannot believe this is happening right when I decide to go on holiday, she thinks to herself sighing. 

After a while of sitting on the hood of her car, taking breaks from trying to restart her car long enough to connect her phone so that it could charge a little bit more to call for assistance, she sees a ball of white fur bark and run towards her. 

“Hi buddy!” she exclaims when the dog adorably walks up to her, pushing his head closer to her tight as if to ask for pets, making her laugh and crouch down giving him her full attention, slightly compensating for all that had happened until that moment. 

“Otis!” Mina hears from the direction the dog had come, assuming the voice as being the owner’s. “You can’t just run off like that.” says the voice, slightly off-breath as it approaches them. 

“It’s fine really!” Mina says, trying to sound reassuring, “He seems like a good boy…” she trails off as she looks up, meeting your gaze. As she looks at you, she feels her shoulders instantly drop, as if every ounce of stress accumulating in her throughout the day had vanished.  

“I’m sorry, he really just ran off as soon as he saw the car here.Is that your car?” you ask her as you leave Otis in her grasp to check it out.

“Uh yeah, I guess it had some engine problems? It never had any problems before, I was not expecting it at all” she answers, still upset at her car breaking down so near her parent's place. 

“If I could, I would totally help you out, but I’m not that good with my hands when it comes to cars,” You tell her sheepishly, “I do have the contact of a mechanic in town who could probably figure this out with no trouble” you add for Mina’s great relief. 

“Really? And do you think they could come today?” she asks with a hopeful tone. 

“Hold on, I’ll give them a call,” You tell her as you take out your phone to quickly call the mechanic. After the short call, you walk back to deliver the news. “It shouldn’t be long before they get here, they said they would come in maybe 20 minutes since it’s not that far.” You explain, making Mina feel like a big weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 

“I don’t even know how to thank you…” Mina says, smiling softly at you, making you laugh. 

“It’s fine, Your car will be in good hands too, don’t worry,” You say, shrugging. “You know…I really wouldn’t feel good with myself leaving you here alone though… would you like to come to the farm while we wait? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to!” you say, quickly adding the last bit, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. 

“I’d really appreciate it.” Mina says, smiling at you relieved, knowing that she’s going home soon.  

As you both walk to your house, you attempt to make small talk to avoid the awkward tension, learning that Mina is going to be spending her holiday time with her parents, in search of peace and quiet. 

After arriving at your place, Mina notices that you live on something alike to a farm, but a little smaller. As you wait by the porch, playing with your dog, Mina has the opportunity to check your little farm out, taking notice of the various fruit trees you had. 

She learns that you had once been a Hockey player in the city but due to a knee injury, you had retired and decided to come back to your hometown to help your parents with their business, eventually leaving it to you. 

After a while, the mechanic finally shows up at your house, with the car already towed, honking to call for your attention, making you smile instantly. 

“Hey pretty!” You say, getting up quickly to greet the person driving the car. Said person getting out quickly as well in time to greet you properly with a hug. “Mina, this is my friend Jeongyeon, she will be taking your car to the shop and give you a ride to your parents since it’s probably on the way.” You explain, detaching yourself from your friend, who gives Mina a small wave to greet her. 

“Well, I hope you have a good rest.” You say, guiding her to the car with Otis on your tail trying to get more pets from his new friend. 

“I’m sure I will.” She says, leaning down to pet Otis for the last time before she leaves.“Thank you for letting me stay here while I waited for the tow.” 

“Of course, it was really nice having you here.” You say, smiling shyly at Mina. 

Honk 

“Hey, love birds! It’s getting dark, we should really get going, so I can drop Mina off and close the shop in time!” Jeongyeon calls from the truck, making you both blush at her nickname. 

As she gets in the truck, she sees you waving goodbye and then remembers she had forgotten to ask you for your number. Before she can get out to ask, the truck is already getting out of your house. 

After a short-ish and quiet drive, she’s finally home. When she opens the door, her parents come rushing to hug her, worried because of the calls that went unanswered by her. After letting them know what had happened, she just went straight to bed, too tired to keep them company for much longer. 

As days go by, Mina has finally begun to feel more and more at ease, more in contact with herself. One day, as she’s preparing lunch, she hears someone knock at the door. 

“Mina, please get the door!” she hears her mom call from outside. 

When she opens the door, she sees a surprising face on the other side. There you stand, carrying a crate with a mix of fruits and vegetables, wearing your hat backward, sporting a small smile on your face. 

“Hi”

“Hi”

“Please come in” Mina hurriedly says, not wanting you to carry such a heavy-looking crate for too long. 

“I didn’t know you were the Myoui’s daughter.” you say as you enter the house and put the crate by the table. 

“Yeah…” she answers, still a bit surprised to see you there 

“I come here once a week to deliver fruit to them since the crate is usually a bit too heavy for your mom to carry” you explain, not wanting to seem like you just like to pop up to people's houses. 

“Thank you for that,” she says, touched by your consideration. “She told me that this week we’d be getting the fruit delivered, but I guess I forgot what day it was coming.”

After an awkward silence from both parts, you finally ask her how her time there has been, if she had her car fixed.  “Oh yeah, thank you! They already have the car ready to get picked up. I’m going this afternoon.” she answers, grateful for the break from the awkwardness. 

You only nod at that and give her a small smile, and you two get awkward again and stay silent for a bit, not knowing what to say. 

“Yn honey hi! Thank you so much for bringing the produce!” The older woman says, going to hug you. 

“Of course, I’m always happy to help!” You tell her with one of the brightest smiles Mina had ever seen, making her instinctively smile as well. 

After exchanging pleasantries, you decide to go back to work. As you’re almost out the door, Mina follows you, not wanting to let you go without asking you for your number.

“Yn! Wait up!” Mina says, following as you’re almost inside your truck. 

“Yeah?” You say, peaking your head out of the car, almost hitting it as you rushed to see what it was that Mina wanted. 

“I uh, I wanted to know if I could get your number?” Mina asks, suddenly shy. 

“Yes! I mean, yeah, sure, of course.” You say, trying to act nonchalant as you quickly hand her your phone.

“Let’s keep in touch, yeah?” Mina says as she hands you the phone, giving you a big gummy smile, making your insides melt. You’re only able to give her a nod, unable to answer her verbally. 

❂

“Did you just giggle?” JIhyo says, barking out a laugh as she sees you staring at your phone after receiving a message from Mina. 

“What are you talking about?” you ask, rolling your eyes. “Did a puck hit you too hard on the head?” you joke, trying to avoid talking about your shameful giggle at a text from a girl you had just met. 

“Hardy har har” she says, rounding the corner and following you as you move through the furniture looking for the renovated table Jihyo had ordered. “You can’t just lie to me, I know you like the palm of my hand! Jeongyeon back me up??” Jihyo says, turning to her friend for support. 

“Hm? Sorry, I was not paying attention at all. Can we speed this along, though? I have a job.” The older one says, putting her phone away as she moves to meet the other girls in the middle of the furniture maze. 

“Who were you texting though” Jihyo insists as she picks up the end of the table to carry it out.

“Oooh was it the girl I picked up from your place?” Jeongyeon joins in, teasingly wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“A girl?” JIhyo says, almost dropping the table. “Why am I the last one to know about this?”

“There is nothing to know about.” You tell them as you slowly put the table down, ready to put it on Jihyo’s car, ready for her to stop pestering you. “She had trouble with her car a while ago, so she stayed at my place while she waited for Jeongie to pick her up to take the car to the shop. Since she’s staying here for a while, we decided to keep in touch-” you try saying, but are cut off by teasing “ooohs” and whistles from both girls. “Just as friends!” you quickly add, rolling your eyes. 

“You know it would do you some good to get out of the house,” Jeongyeon says, bringing you closer when she sees you trying to get away from their teasing by going back to the shop. 

“I do get out.” You say almost indignantly, making both of them snicker. 

“You getting out of the house to go to work or to go to the farmers market does not count. You don’t even visit some of us in the city as frequently.” Jihyo says, already getting inside the car. “You don’t giggle at texts, you’re a loser, but I’ve never seen you like this. If this girl does that to you, you should give it a try, even if you’ve only known her for a short while. Get to know her.”

You only mumble in agreement, not wanting to commit to something yet. After Jihyo leaves, you try sneaking off into the store, knowing Jeongyeon will still try to talk about what had just happened. 

“Nope, come here.” She says when she sees you slowly backing away, pulling you by the hand to sit on the bench outside your store. “I know this is scary, you don’t like getting close to new people-”

“I do like it-” you start 

“Let me finish,” she says, cutting you off. “It’s good for you. We get together often, but since you came back you’ve been pulling out of social interactions. Mina seems like a sweet girl.” She continues, holding your hand gently. “I’m not saying you have to make a move, you’ve only known the girl for what? Two weeks?” she asks, getting an inconclusive hum from you. “Just get to know her, she told me she’s staying here for vacation when I drove her to her parents. You can make a new friend.” she says, ending her little encouragement speech. 

“You sound like my mom.” You grumble. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I love your mom.” She says, patting your head as she gets up. “I'll call you later, ok?” She says, already walking away. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to get to know Mina better, you’d like nothing more. Even after days of texting back and forth, sharing jokes and facts about you, you were still hesitant about letting someone else in. 

You sighed and looked at your phone, still open on the messages app with Mina’s text waiting for your response. 

Do you want to meet tomorrow? I can’t wait to see you again :) 

You smile down at it before finally answering. 

I’d love to. I can’t wait to see you too :)

❂

“This one almost fell off!” Mina says excitedly as she puts the peach inside her basket. 

“Yeah, they’re good to go right now, I’ll probably take them to the market this weekend.” You say, chuckling at her enthusiasm. “You should be careful though, if you pick them out with too much force, some parts that will get spoiled more easily.” 

After your friend's visit, you decided to invite Mina to your house to create a more intimate environment so that you could get to know her better without any stress from people being around. 

"Oh, look at this one! It’s you!" she says laughing, holding one out for you to see. 

You move closer to her, trying to see what she means as she points at the fruit. 

"You know, cuz you're a peach." she says, maybe in an unusual attempt at flirting. After a moment of silence, she turns away from you and goes to another tree to get away from what had just happened. You only stare at her with a dumb smile on your face, completely infatuated by her. 

“Are you flirting with me?” You ask, moving closer with a cheeky smile on your face. 

“Me flirt- flirting? Why would I- No of course not” Mina says, stumbling over her words as she moves further away. 

“Why did you call me a peach, then?” You ask chuckling, finally able to be close to her again. 

“Well because you look like one.” She says shrugging, looking away, not wanting to make eye contact. 

“Yeah, cuz we share oh so many similarities.” You say, tilting your head, trying to look at her. 

“Yeah, both round and red.” she says, shrugging, making you bark out a laugh. 

“You’re saying I’m round and red?” 

“You’re insufferable” she huffs and turning away again, only making you laugh more. 

“You can’t say I’m insufferable, we’ve only known each other for two weeks or so” You exclaim, still laughing. 

“Would it be bad if I was?” Mina finally stops, turning to you, and looking into your eyes. As you look at her, you find yourself unable to form any words, this seeming to be becoming a recurring occurrence now.  

You only shake your head no and move closer to her. You see her tense up as if she had stopped breathing, and unconsciously do the same. As you get closer to her, you’re now able to check ever single detail on her face, every single line, every single mole. 

“It would not be bad at all” You say, almost whispering with your voice shaking, as you adjust the straw hat on her head as it was slowly falling forward. 

“Yn!” you two suddenly hear, making you both hastily make some distance between each other. 

“Mom?” You call out, having recognized the voice, moving towards the sound, taking Mina’s hand in yours to follow you not noticing her almost freezing up at the contact. 

“Hi baby” she enthusiastically says, with open arms ready to engulf you in her arms. She, however, stops mid-way when she sees you holding hands with an unknown girl. “Who is this?” she asks, with a mischievous smile forming on her face. 

As soon as you realize what she’s talking about, you feel your face heat up, realizing that you were holding hands with Mina. Quickly, you let go of her hand, not wanting to make her feel comfortable, too embarrassed to notice the slight look of disappointment that had crossed her face as you did so. “This is Mina, she’s the Myoui’s daughter.” You explain, weekly gesturing to the girl beside you. 

“Well, it’s really nice to meet you!” your mom says, going to hug Mina, surprising her. 

“She’s always like this” you mouth to her when she looks at you for help. 

“Don’t run from me!” You hear as you see Otis speed away from your father, who’s chasing him. 

“Dad, stop pestering Otis.” You say, sighing, going in the direction your dog had run. 

“It’s not pestering, he loves it!” The older man says, before spotting Mina. “And who is this?” he says with a curious gaze and a little smile playing on his lips.

“This is the Myoui’s kid.” Your mom says, introducing her, and instead of a warm hug, he instead offers a warm smile, one too similar to yours. After a bit of short talk, and your parents wanting to start sharing stories about how you were as a child, you volunteered to walk Mina home. 

“They seem fun” Mina says as she walks by your side. 

“They’re pests.” You say fondly, not being able to contain your smile. 

“I’m glad we could do this today…” Mina says, sneaking glances at you, catching you doing the same from time to time. 

“It was really fun, yeah.” You say with a smile. Out of nowhere, a gust of wind hits you both and sends Mina’s hat into the field. “I’ll pick it up don’t worry.” You assure her, trying to chase it. 

“You don’t have to!” She calls after you, going after you. 

“I want to, stay there, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

After no longer than 5 minutes, she hears a thud and a groan, making her look your way, only to see you holding her hat looking quite disheveled, with furrowed eyebrows grumbling. 

“What happened?” she asks worried, seeing small tears on your pants.  

“I didn’t see the roots” You mumble, dusting yourself off with your free hand, before offering her a beaming smile. “I got your hat though! Here, let me put it on,” you say, dusting it off of any dust it might have before adjusting it on Mina’s hair again. “There.” You say, smiling, finding yourself in the same position you both had been in before your parents had come home. 

“Thanks” Mina mumbles, looking away, not attempting to make eye contact. 

As you both continued your walk, you could feel your fingers brush hers, making your face erupt in flames. You decided to look at her, sneakily and found yourself breath taken. It wasn’t just her shy smile that had your knees trembling, but also the light coming between the trees and how they hit her skin, how her eyes gained a new shine as she watched the birds chirping above you. You would never admit this out loud, at least not to her, but even though you had only known her for such a short period of time, you were absolutely smitten. 

“We should do this again,” Mina says as she steps on her parent’s porch. “I had fun.”

“Yeah.” You manage to get out, fiddling your fingers. “I’ll text you?” you ask, receiving a nod. “Yeah, I’d like that.” she says, getting closer to you. Before you can process it, Mina kissed your cheek and was already inside the house. 

❂

“We've actually been hanging out a lot, even if she's working too. Last Tuesday she took me to the lake, we spent the whole day there. But now she won't even answer my texts” Mina sighs, not knowing what to do.

“Well you've already tried talking to her, I'm honestly not sure what else you can do.” Sana, her friend, says through the phone. 

“Well, yes, but I actually thought things were going well.” The girl continues, pacing around. 

She knew that she couldn’t expect anything romantic out of this relationship, at least not at that moment, but she did think that your relationship was progressing in that direction, and she was happy about it, there didn’t seem to be any problems until you suddenly stopped answering her texts and only came by her parents place when she wasn’t there. 

“I’m not sure what to tell you, honey, I wish I could offer you more words of comfort, but it seems like this all came out of the blue so…” The older girl says. 

After a long talk, Mina decides to come down, only to see a very familiar crate full of veggies and fruit sitting at the table. She realizes then that Yn had come over to deliver the produce as usual, managing to avoid her again. 

“Mina hi! What can I do for you?” Jeongyeon says as she gets out from under the car she had been fixing, oil stains all over her. “Is your car giving you trouble?”

“Not the car, no.” Mina answers with a dry chuckle, looking around.

“What happened?” Jeongyeon asks, cleaning her hands, and guiding Mina to her office so that they could talk more freely. 

“I just…” she started, frustration settling in. “Is Yn alright? Has anything happened? Was it something I did?” Mina ends up asking, rapidly. 

“Hey no what?” Jeongyeon says, holding her arms, trying to calm her down. “It’s not you, ok? You did nothing wrong.” She says, trying to reassure her. “Yn has a complicated relationship with people. Has she told you about her retirement?” She asks getting up, getting a cup of water, and giving it to Mina, but only getting a negative nod as a response to her question. 

“I’m not sure whether it’s my place to tell you about all the details, that’s something Yn should tell you if she thinks she wants to. She had it pretty rough with her team after her injury, it hit her pretty hard.” Jeongyeon says, sighing after remembering how everything had impacted her friend. “After her injury, some people on the team started blaming her, people that were supposed to have her back, people that Yn trusted a lot. After that, she got too much in her head and started self-isolating. Those people leaving her, blaming her, made her start to think that others would do that too.” She ends, frustration lacing itself into her tone. 

“I didn’t know…” Mina says, almost in a whisper. “That must have been tough.” 

“It was, she has been trying to get out more and get better, but you know how these things are…” Jeongyeon says, searching for understanding in Mina’s eyes. “I know it doesn’t excuse her keeping you in the dark, but I hope it at least explains it.” 

“It does, but I still want to try and talk to her.” Mina says, getting up, ready to see if you were at your shop. 

“Yeah, but if you want to try today, you won’t have any luck. She went to the city, she’s hanging out with a friend.” Jeongyeon says, guiding Mina out, almost apologetic. 

“I’ll see if I can catch her at the market then.” Mina decides, gaining a nod from Yn’s friend. 

As Mina walks home with this new information she starts to understand why you had done what you did, however, she can’t help that she felt hurt by those actions. She decided that she had to confront you, to ease her mind and also in turn ease yours.

A couple of days later, her mom had decided to go to the market so Mina took that opportunity to go see you. When they arrive, they see you at your stand with your dad and waste no time to go over there. 

“...yes, Yn only started producing this type of tomato this year, but I really like them, especially in salads, they really bring out the taste…” says your father, engrossed in his tomato talk with a possible customer. “Mina! Hi!” He suddenly exclaims as he notices her presence. “I haven’t seen you in a while, have you been enjoying your time off?” He asks, after making sure the other customer did leave with the tomatoes he was so enthusiastic about. 

“It’s been great yeah!” Mina answers him with a tight smile, more focused on Yn and how she’s suddenly checking every single peach on the stand for defects. 

“she’s really been able to relax more, she works too hard”

“Do you come here often?” comes out of Mina’s mouth before she can stop herself, feeling silly since she is literally at her stand. There is a small victory since a small smile shapes itself on your lips unintentionally. 

“Yeah…” you say, not wanting to prolong this conversation, too scared of where this might go. 

“How have you been?” Mina tries again, not feeling deterred. 

“Eh I’ve been alright.” You say, offering her a small smile, but looking away almost instantly. 

“Are you not going to ask how I’ve been?” Mina says, trying to meet your eyes, finding them guilt-ridden. “Well, I haven’t been that great. My friend, or at least someone I thought was my friend, stopped talking to me and has been avoiding me. I’m not sure if she’s doing it because of anything I did, but she won’t even answer my texts so I can’t really know.” Mina finally lets out, unthinkingly letting out her frustrations on the situation as well. 

“No! No. I- It was not you, it was all me. I get too inside my head and end up pushing people away. This is no excuse, especially since I’m not even explaining it well, but I am still sorry Mina.” You quickly say as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“You know, I wouldn’t have left.” She says, after a silent moment. “I texted a lot, I would think that that was an indicator right?” she says chuckling trying to lighten the mood, making you smile slightly relieved. “You do have to make it up to me…”

“I’ll do my very best,” you tell her, now smiling more openly. 

❂

As time progresses, you two end up making up, and you start visiting the city more because of Mina since she had returned to work. 

Knock Knock Knock

“Coming!” Mina yells from the kitchen, hurriedly going to the door, not knowing who could be at such a late hour. Once she opens the door, she is pleasantly surprised to see you there holding a bag of takeout with one of your big smiles on your face. 

“Hi” you say, already going inside, not wanting to stay out in the cold. “I brought take out from that place down the road.” You explain, already going to the kitchen with a familiarity Mina hadn’t noticed until now, but still a welcome one. As you both ate, Mina started realizing that the silly infatuation she had felt over the summer had evolved into a full-grown crush, and suddenly she didn’t know how to act. 

“Do you want to watch a movie after?” You ask her with a mouthful, which was honestly disgusting, but for Mina, who found herself realizing that she was unbelievably down bad for you, it was somewhat endearing. 

“You’re so gross.” She says, with no sentiment behind it,  a love-sick grin starting to spread on her face. “You choose, I’m cleaning up the dishes.” She says, getting up quickly not wanting you to see her smile like that. 

Once she returns to the living room, she finds you already sprawled comfortably on the couch with Spider-Man on the screen waiting for her to press play. Once you were both comfortably watching the movie play, you decided to explain to her little details that could help her better understand the plot and the reasons behind some behaviours of certain characters, and even though she had tried so hard to pay attention to those details, the only things she could focus on were how your eyes lit up, how you knew all about this fictional universe and how invested you were in it. 

“...and that’s why-What?” You ask, finally noticing her unnerving stare. 

“You’re such a nerd,” she says softly, her voice filled with adoration, making you flush under her gaze. “Tell me more about it.”

“Do you actually want to know?” You ask her, laughing, knowing she was probably not paying any attention to your side information. 

“I like listening to you talk.” She shrugs. “It’s cute. I might have to try and get a Marvel contract, maybe then you’ll talk about as me as passionately as you talk about Peter Parker.” She says, inching closer to you, with a teasing smile, and at that moment you thank everything divine for not being too close to her, or else she would’ve felt the heat emanating from you, from how flushed you were starting to get because of this banter of hers. 

“Do you think I’d make a good spider woman? Hm?” Mina says, feeling more confident after looking at your state, already so close, she could see your chest rising rapidly. “I’d let you try out the iconic upside-down kiss…” she finalizes, feeling a surge of confidence she normally didn’t feel, as she gently turned your face towards hers, getting closer and closer, already being able to feel your ragged breath mixing with hers. 

“Mina…” You breathlessly whisper, following her lead, your mouth opening slightly, not being able to stop your eyes from following her every move.

She only hums in response, tilting her head slightly to kiss you gently on the cheek, lips so soft you could’ve missed them. Instead of stopping there, she starts to slowly trail little kisses in your mouth’s direction. As she’s almost there, her eyes find yours as if asking for permission. You don’t even try and answer verbally, knowing full well you would not be able to do so, instead, you just let your hand go to her nape and gently bring her closer to you, letting your lips finally meet in a soft kiss. As you try to deepen the kiss, you feel her smile against your lips, making it impossible to do so. 

“What are you smiling about?” You ask, still impossibly closer, lips almost touching, not even wanting to think about putting some distance in between both of you. 

“Nothing” she simply says, pulling you in for another kiss, sharing the same thought of not wanting to be apart from you a minute longer. 

[mirohlayo]

hi lyna, I hope you're having a great day! for your event, can I request a coconut 🥥 “no one’s ever going to hurt you again. i promise you that on everything i believe in.” with charles? please and thank you!! 🩷

Here is it !! Hope you'll like it and hope you're having a great day too :))

PROMISE

Sometimes you felt weak. Bad and sad. The world seemed to be falling apart as you tried to hold on. To hold on to that faint glimmer of hope, because in the end it was worth it.

The sky was covered in stars as you felt the coolness of the night fall on your frail skin. The tears that were slowly streaming down your face have finally dried, but your eyes are still wet from the pain of those salty drops.

The balcony door opened, Charles appearing in its frame. You loved spending a little time alone, with yourself, on the balcony at night, enjoying the beauty of the sky. But this little moment of yours was starting to seem a little too long and suspicious for Charles, who was worried about you.

He approaches you, placing his hands gently on your shoulders, his gaze concerned. He stays there for a moment, awkwardly caressing your shoulders. He didn't want to hurt you, he didn't want to rush you. He can feel your body trembling slightly under his touch, and it breaks his heart, which was suffocating at the thought of you being sad.

He then walks around you, kneeling in front of you. It was there where he could see your wet eyes shining in the night, where he could become aware of your fears. You don't like to appear so weak in front of him, but at that moment you didn't care. He has the right to see you in this light, to witness your feelings.

The palm of his hand comes to rest delicately on your cheek, caressing your pale skin with his thumb. Despite your tears and your red eyes, the faint glow of the moon reflects your face with exquisite beauty, making you indefinitely beautiful and angelic. And Charles could stay for hours admiring you like that.

Your eyes are always fixed on the sky, far in front of you. You admire the constellations, because you always strangely found comfort in them. Charles follows your rhythm, follows the pace at which your thoughts race. And then, his heart wanted to comfort you.

“Tell me everything, angel. Tell me what’s on your heart, I’m here to listen to you. I promise.” His voice was only a whisper, a breath or even a sigh, so pleasantly soft. A faint smile appears on your face, noticeable enough for Charles to savor every second of it.

A silence settles, revealing the hesitation in your words. His hands then slide to your knees, and his touch spreads a comforting warmth all over your body. "I don't really know. Some people make me feel bad. That's all...". More tears threaten to fall, so you try to force them back as best you can.

You lower your head, anchoring your gaze on your hands which are nervously playing with each other. Charles' gaze softens, realizing that the silence that follows reflects your inability to say more about what you feel. He wraps your hands in his, placing a soft kiss on your fingers.

Each of his gestures are precise but delicate, extremely tender. His touch spreads a wave of love throughout your body, chasing away a little the painful feelings you currently feel. “No one’s ever going to hurt you again. I promise you that on everything I believe in.”

He could only let these few words escape in a sigh. He didn't need to say more, not yet. These words are the promise of eternal love, and that He will watch over you no matter the circumstances. Yet he really means it. He will never let anything or anyone hurt you, not as long as he is here with you.

He promised you, and he will never let that promise break.

“Let’s get you to bed, hmm?” You can just nod, before he gently places you on your bed. He pulls the white covers over you, then slides over to hold you in his arms. As sleep comes to you, he leaves long lazy kisses on your hair, enjoying the calm and serenity you feel when you are asleep.

Because he knows that when you sleep, all your sorrows and pains fade away to give way to wonderful, happy dreams. After all, that's what he hopes and wants most in the world : to see you happy.

[pretty-toru]

boyfriend quiz ᰔ gojo satoru

contents: tooth-rotting fluff. fem!reader. established relationship. mentions of sweets. making gojo think every question he answers is wrong on a quiz you made up.

“Baby, let’s take a little couple’s quiz together, hm?” 

Satoru had just stepped into your shared bedroom after a hot shower. The ends of his hair still damp from towel drying and his cheeks just a tickled pink from the steam as he takes long strides toward you, crawling into bed and stealing some of your warmth from under the covers. 

“Hmm, why do I have a bad feeling about this~?” There’s a boyish smile on his face as he holds you close and nuzzles your neck softly, feeling like his head’s up in the clouds the moment he’s wrapped up in your scent. “But alright, I’m game! Let’s go, I’m ready. What’s the first question?”

The white tufts of your boyfriend’s hair delicately grazes your nose and you press a tender kiss to the top of his head. “So, imagine you’re at our favorite bakery, what do you buy?” You start with an innocent question, leading him to believe that there's no right or wrong answers but he suspects there's a trick up your sleeve.

“That’s a fun one! I’m at our favorite bakery, right~?” He ponders carefully for a moment. “Well, of course, I would want those delicious pastries, those yummy cakes, and those fresh breads! And while I’m there, I should grab a few of your favorites too!” 

You almost forget just how incredibly thoughtful and caring Satoru can be. How you’re always on his mind and he spends a lot of time thinking about you no matter his whereabouts. You know this because it usually manifests in forms of gifts and trinkets—some sweet, some odd, some over the top, but they’re all very near and dear to your heart. 

“Wrong.” You shake your head gently, forcing an exasperated sigh that tells him you’re disappointed and upset he managed to get the question wrong. But really, you’re just messing with him, making him think his answers are somehow incorrect in this one-sided game of yours. “You weren’t supposed to be there without me in the first place.”

“What do you mean, Angel~? Why can’t I be at the bakery without you? Even if I’m getting you something, too?” There’s a glimmer of confusion behind his cerulean hues, yet his earnest smile still remains and he’s a bit at loss for words but continues to indulge you. 

“Next question—” Satoru quickly plops an affectionate kiss on your cheek before you continue, hoping to remedy your crestfallen face. “You have now left the bakery, what’s the next thing you do?” 

“Easy. The next thing I do after leaving the bakery is be with my favorite girl, and share all the delicious things I got. I want to be with you, no one else.” 

There he goes being so sweet again! He’s making this extremely hard for you not to openly swoon over him and smother his face with so many kisses, and he can see the way you’re biting the inside of your cheek trying to suppress your smile that he’s getting to you. But you shake your head again, “Wrong! You’re supposed to pick up the strawberries from the market like I had asked you to.”

“Oh my goodness, you’re right! I forgot all about the strawberry you wanted~” Satoru gasps loudly and runs a stressful hand through his hair. He then laughs and playfully rolls his eyes that he somehow answered wrong for the second time now. “Fine, I’ll go pick up the strawberries.” 

You couldn’t help the quick kiss that lands on his cheek for being so utterly cute and adorable as you giggled along with him. “Okay, next question—a girl approaches you and she looks like she wants to hug you. What do you do?” 

“Hm, who is she and why does she look like she wants to hug me?” He tilts his head to the side as he considers the situation. You feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s merely seconds away from getting a curveball thrown at him. Even though you know kind of partner he is, you’re quite curious as to what he’ll come up with. 

“Well, what do you do~?” You gently urge him for an answer. 

“It really depends, Angel. Are you the girl then?” His lips curl into a smirk, and he looks at you almost too knowingly like he could read your mind. But you know that even his Six Eyes can't do that. 

You hate that he was able to figure it out so easily. He watches as your face lights up into your perfect and gorgeous smile, with your head falling onto his chest and face burrowing in defeat. All of his answers were simply too sweet and considerate with you in mind and you can feel your heart swell with so much love and adoration for him.

Your muffled words come up to reach his ears, “How’d you know to answer that I was there with you? You’re too smart for this. But yes, the girl is supposed to be me.” 

“So you approached me, and you wanted to hug me, right~?” He strokes your hair softly and offers an amused chuckle. You slowly lift yourself off him to meet his soft gaze, nodding. “If you want a hug, you always get a hug, sweetheart.” 

Satoru doesn’t need to be told twice to have his strong arms coil around your figure, locking you sweetly in his hold that makes you feel completely safe and secure in his warm embrace. Then, a lingering kiss to your forehead just before he releases you but you can feel the faintest waver in his loosening grip that he never wants to let you go.

“Okay, one last question?” Your weight dips on the mattress beside him, tucking yourself in the nook of his arm and resting your head on his chest. He hums contently when your body always seems to fit so perfectly with his as he brings you closer to him like he can’t get close enough. ”What are we doing next?”

“Well, we could go home, eat the baked goods and the strawberries. After that, maybe snuggle while watching a movie and take a long nap together. How’s that sound to you, baby?”

You briefly mull over his words, and you can’t remember the last time he truly took some time off and enjoyed himself without restraints. So you’re determined to plan a fun and romantic getaway because even your loving and goofy boyfriend deserves a much-needed break to experience the small joys and pleasures with you every now and again.

“That sounds like our perfect next date.”