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iceunhie · 3 months

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— out of this world (and into another) : genshin impact

premise: you could've sworn the transmigration curse didn't have an effect on you... so what exactly are you doing here?! (alternatively, you tumble straight into your favorite video game; and you're kinda fucked)

...or, a genshin manhwa otome game inspired au.

act i: scaramouche, alhaitham, wriothesley.

↳ act ii: lyney, neuvilette, kazuha, kaeya. (next)

warnings. fem!reader but can be imagined as genderless if u'd like hehe, a shit ton of manhwa tropes in one, this is a hot mess aka not proofread all that much, half clunky half decent writing

a/n: as promised via the poll heh,, while i do plan to make this an actual au, im not that sure ^^; just the tip of the iceberg here tho!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST (coming soon)

YOU — unsuspecting civilian turnt transmigrator

you've always been too attached to fictional characters for your own good.

yes, even the ones that are remarkably irredeemable (the power of a backstory is very formidable) and complex (complexity is a virtue!)

villains have always been destined to die, be cursed, or destined to curse others. it was heartbreaking, really. you've wished for a chance to rewrite their fates for them to find even a sliver of happiness, even when the fate of their plot says otherwise.

which is why when you find yourself awake into the game of your dreams, “Teyvat's Seven Stars”, like any lover of cliche novel and manhwa tropes, this is the time you think that maybe life wasn't so shitty on you.

....there's only one tiny, teensy, itty bitty problem here, actually.

you're not the protagonist. you're not even one of the protagonist's faithful friends and underlings that light protagonist's road to conquering the world and its men (and as of the 4.0 update, it's women); no, you're none of those.

you're a no name extra, and not to mention, a character involved with the game's main villain characters who are coincidentally the love interests of the game's black route!

[ unlock transmigration package: ultimate transmigrator's route ( ????? MODE ) ]

[ no ] [ yes ]

( 国崩 ) SCARAMOUCHE — the tyrant

“as of today, you will be engaged to crown prince kunikuzushi, who is her grace the shogun's rightful heir to the throne.”

when given approval to stare at your so-called soon to be husband, you expect the worst, mostly. the multitudes of character dialogue you've played through detailing his rather discourteous personality (which basically meant he was a huge asshole) don't exactly paint a pretty picture.

however...

who was this tender hearted looking scaramouche that ‘obliterated armies in the blink of an eye?’ the t in tyrant stands for tyrannical, not timid!

eyes like lighting framed by the longest eyelashes you've ever seen and an unfairly pretty face, comparable to a fair lotus. after fawning over his otherworldly countenance, a sinking realization of dread pools in your stomach.

oh, you are so screwed.

essentially tied to the indigo-haired ticking time bomb of a future tyrant due to the strong standing of your family for a period of until the main story starts, you're destined to never get crown prince scaramouche's affection, being his fiancée who scaramouche is arranged to for political means only.

not to mention, you're in an even more deadly position; of all the characters you switched souls with, it's the one that essentially dies by their own fiancé's hand because they were horrible to him! what atrocious luck!

frantic, you wrack up about three ways to survive.

plan a) win over the shogun's favor by being an appropriate partner unlike the original flavor of this body, who resorted to bullying the innocent prince and unknowingly digging their own grave or b) be a guiding friend to scaramouche as he learns the ways of the world and c) make sure you don't end up giving the protagonist a bad ending via his twisted personality.

weighing all these options, you decide to do all three in hopes to cement a life instead of a deathflag. prevention is better than the cure (aka: the protagonist) after all!

(you may also just want to spend time with your favorite character. having a time limit and a sign that says ‘i'll die in the future!’ should at least warrant you extra time to show some affection to scaramouche, at least.)

so, you do what anyone in your position would do: give affection! lots of it.

admittedly, it wasn't all flowers and rainbows. scaramouche—ahem, kunikuzushi—was very shy and reserved indeed, with his mother ei even worse off! (besides, who trains and studies all day and has to stop crying every time they were injured?! that was just too much!)

it was rather hard at first, the frigid atmosphere of the usually silent Tenshukaku Palace almost impossible to permeate. but with your amazing charm (read: deathflag radar) and social skills, you manage to let the members of the Royal family open up to you.

speaking words of praise in ei's cooking (a very difficult feat to accomplish), spending afternoons with your fiancé and teaching him ‘how to be a shoujo worthy male lead, name-version’ (very confusing to explain), and the cherry on top, driving away that vile teacher of his—the Doctor—once word got out that he'd been taking advantage of scaramouche as a political puppet king in the future. trauma enabler destroyed! look at your immeasurable powers!

(“you're not a failure.” clasping kunikuzushi's hands in yours as he reels back from you. damn that doctor.

his tears shot a wave of heartache through you. you can't bear to see your favorite in such suffering. “whatever happens in the future, i won't abandon you.

no matter what, i'll always be on your side, okay?”

kunikuzushi looks at you with something in his eyes—something like adoration. “do you promise that?”

“yeah.” you say without hesitation, the glow of the sunlight hitting your face so dazzlingly that kunikuzushi's eyes widen that his mouth hangs agape in awe. “i promise, kuni.”)

to your greatest delight, your efforts worked in your favor.

ei now spends time with her son, and though it's almost always just a tad bit awkward, you and the guuji yae miko get the two to strike up conversation, and overtime, kunikuzushi becomes more open to you.

(“[name], what kind of man is your type?”

“huh? well...” you think for a while. this was a great opportunity to say it, right? that life changing protagonist quote!

“to me, the only person i'll ever like the most is you, kunikuzushi.”

“do you really, really mean that?” and oh, he looks so cute—flustered and red from your words. worth it.

“yup! now, i made some shimi chazuke, try some—”)

(admittedly, lots of favoritism is involved.)

—and while you reap the fruits of your hard work, you spend warm, sunlit afternoons with ei at tea, even learning about other nations from scaramouche's aunt nahida and even befriended a few of his future affiliates—childe (though for some reason, kunikuzushi always pulls you away from him whenever he spots the two of you together), signora (she tolerates you, you think) and etcetera.

(“then, if i do well, can you kiss me on the cheek, [name]?”

you agree, much to his delight. scaramouche avoids the gaze of a certain pink haired fox eyeing him questionably. unbeknownst to you, he glares at the woman's scrutiny.)

unprecedented things unrelated to the plot happen too; like how your family, which basically only saw you as a political bargaining chip and an unwanted child they could get rid of easily—no longer sent you any demeaning letters demanding money once scaramouche found out....

(“they've been leeching off of you for how long?” so scary... is this was kunikuzushi is like when he's worried?)

(“...kunikuzushi, how long will you keep up that weak-hearted facade of yours? if they find out how.... dishonest you are....”

“i don't need the reminders of a foxy old hag that doesn't know her place. this is fine as it is.”)

(you don't need to know.)

but, you're nothing compared to the inevitable flow of the plot. inazuma is wracked with war, and it just so happened that you'd been unceremoniously kidnapped by a certain resistance leader's trusted general, used as a hostage bargain for approximately the majority of your life. in the worst moments in your dreary cell, there's only one thought in your mind.

....kunikuzushi's face, devastated when he tries to reach for you, before slipping away from him like sand— face morphing into an unbridled state of rage that's too natural, too familiar. when did he learn to make a face like that?

(they say the kingdom was wracked with thunderstorms all night that day.)

afterwards, fate doesn't make it kind for you.

years go by in the blink of an eye, with your capture fervently forgotten in the midst of the growing animosity of the two conflicting forces.

although you did hear that yae sent out a search party for you while at the resistance's base, the shogun's forces never reached you.

eventually, you got released secretly by sympathy of kokomi, the leader of the resistance, who felt pity for you getting caught in the crossfire. letting you go under the condition that you'd likely never meet any of the precious characters you've gotten to know and change was a heavy price to pay, but you didn't have any choice.

indeed, no matter how much you tried to divert the plot, your duty as an extra has ended, and you were even lucky to even be alive. you could only hope that your fiancé—ex-fiancé—took note of your lessons well, bidding farewell to inazuma as you hop on the boat to mondsdat.

by now, you at least hoped that scaramouche and the protagonist met, his true chance at happiness starting now that you were basically dead.

(even if your heart felt like breaking into a million pieces.)

....is what you thought would happen, but why is it that after three years from your supposed capture, inazuma was still at war?

“that crazy prince... he's still working to find his former fiancée... and he's razing almost every village apart looking for them!”

“—didn't the shogunate say that whoever finds her would receive almost 3 million mora?”

“the entire lot of them are lunatics, i tell you. all because of a missing person, too!”

what's more, why was it still going because of you?!

( 艾尔海森 ) AL-HAITHAM: the information guild master

to be fair, normal people don't really run into one of their favorite characters often after transmigrating.

but to be fair, again, you certainly didn't think you'd actually be in your favorite video game franchise caged in bed with essentially one of its main love interests.

eyes wide and unceremoniously looking—definitely not ogling— at the toned body that's currently enveloping you in its arms, the soft tuft of ashy gray hair caressing the crook of your neck, murmuring incoherent mumbles of—is that another language?

???????

you blink, looking down at the bare body currently embracing you. oh. oh.

you're an extra.

you're just an extra, but why are you in bed, currently being served breakfast by the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on, with a pretty view of the rainforests' canopy?

“you should lie down. if i recall, sufficient sleep is required in order for the human body to perform its basic bodily functions. although our partnership is temporary, to let you fall to harm is a situation i'd like to avoid as much as possible.”

“....what?”

“...?”

the guild master, al-haitham, is a character in Teyvat's Seven Stars that is heavily debated on whether he's technically a villain or not. in the game, he's the right hand of sumeru's leader, nahida, working as the overseer of the AKASHA, a guild that gathers information to the nation's leader. he's a pretty shady character—always working behind the scenes and very unfalteringly blunt—and a ‘villain’ for crown prince scaramouche's route, helping the protagonist escape his clutches.

he's often the subject of comedic ire, his banters with a certain broke architect always the highlight of any bonafide al-haitham fan.

“we're expected to work together by lord kusanali's decree in the duration of investigating the hivemind project the lord suspects the baron siraj is partaking in.”

right, that one scene in the game where al-haitham needed to go undercover to infiltrate a coup de etat staged by one of the factions against nahida... right... what.

you were that extra! the one that fell in love with him and pined for his affection!

(“well, i get that part, but does sleeping together really have to play a part in this...?”

al-haitham gives you a mere quirk of the lip, tilting his head. “we do have to play the part of a married couple in dire straights, do we not? this cover is more efficient.

...besides, i don't have anything to complain about. you're certainly better company than kaveh.” )

in truth, al-haitham wasn't bad company. far from it. aside from the internal giggling and fangirling (you) and the incredible stack of books (alhaitham) that you have to see more than the grey haired man on a daily basis, the two of you work out a rapport that stems from memories of the body you transmigrated in.

he's nice to be around, surprisingly considerate when he wants to be—he tells you about the books he always reads....

(who even reads ‘20 Tongues Language Memorization Guidebook: A Basic Overview of Vocabulary and Terms’ for enjoyment?

the content makes your head run in circles because of how complicated it is; but who wouldn't like to listen to an extremely attractive man overexplain to you with a calm and pretty voice?)

...is generous enough to provide meals and cook dinners that have you crying tears of gratitude because you know how awful yours compares (it was either too bland or too seasoned; al-haitham is surprisingly picky when he wants to be)

(you assigned al-haitham the title of “absolute s-tier husband material”— his capabilities are out of this world!)

by chance, you once gave al-haitham a little tidbit of information that proved to be valuable later in the investigation—courtesy of your avid game knowledge—when you two had been lost to the psychological illusion magic cast by siraj when you two finally broke in his estate.

(“whatever happens, if siraj messes with your mind, just make sure to think of me instead of anything else.” al-haitham lets his hand find yours.

“you once asked me if i trusted you, [name].”

“....” you're treated to one of al-haitham's rare smiles, one that warms you up from within. “i do. so don't let yourself get hurt.”)

however, your temporary partner had faltered for once, flinching when siraj took the form of his old grandmother who'd passed to exploit al-haitham's mind, hesitating and frozen in place while siraj inched ever closer to finding out his weakness.

and you couldn't stand it, the character you cared for—the al-haitham that always had a plan, always knew how to stay calm, had looked so unsure and hopeless.

(“wake up, al-haitham!”

with you cradling his face, al-haitham stares back at the only constant in the memories of his grief, eyes meeting yours. “you don't have to do it all alone. i'm right here, aren't i? believe in me.”)

your (fake) husband snaps back to reality, finally allowing enough time to apprehend siraj and put a stop to his malicious project.

(“thank you.” al-haitham tells you solemnly. it hits you that this may be the last time you may ever see him. “i'm grateful that you brought me back to y— to my senses.”

there's a sincerity in your voice that rings from your heart. “anytime, al-haitham.”)

you thought that was the end of it.

defeating siraj meant you two no longer had to associate with each other, but somehow, to your great surprise, al-haitham doesn't stick to the plot at all. you were sure you didn't interfere with the game, though?

for some reason, al-haitham doesn't erase himself from your life, unlike the original route's flow.

in fact, he's become... easy to run into, a constant in your otherwise mundane life. he takes you out to lambad's tavern for an occasional drink, says he's lending you his headphones when you find yourself overwhelmed by the city (you were never good with noises) and even helps you out as you vent your problems to him.

(the day after, said problem conveniently disappears. how strange....)

and most of all, allowing you to enter his personal space... leaving kaveh's jaw dropping when he accuses al-haitham of having a lover.

“you're always going who knows where with them! what else is there to figure out?”

“...we are merely friends.”

“a friend that you let into your personal library? do they know that you still keep the ‘fake’ ring in a box inside the closet?” kaveh laughs. “nice try, al-haitham.”

(after all, kaveh could never unsee the way al-haitham's eyes softened at the feeling of the head on his shoulder lean onto him, with you no doubt asleep. he even took his headphones off! kaveh has never seen him actually take them off in order to keep the person who's sleeping on his shoulder as undisturbed as possible.

in fact, kaveh doesn't think he's ever seen al-haitham be this touchy or considerate with anyone this much before.

.....and most importantly, kaveh would never forget the way al-haitham, a man who found no merit in politeness and preferred bluntness, a man who preferred solitude rather than company—deliberately getting close to someone—pressing a fleeting kiss on the crown of your head.

kaveh blinks. it seems even the throes of love can reach even the most unconquerable of peaks....)

( 莱欧斯利 ) WRIOTHESLEY — the monster duke of the north

“—i need you to gather information on duke wriothesley. serve him undercover as one of the prisoners of the fortress.”

the duke of meropide—a man swamped with terrible rumors. they say he was exiled from the nation due to murdering his entire family. they say he possessed a face worthy of the title of a beast— grotesque, littered in scars. they say that any who end up in his estate, the iron prison of the north, meropide, never saw the light of day again.

(“only criminals of the worst kind are fated to be sentenced there. nobody returns, so we've stopped questioning it...” )

so to say you're not fearing for your life that bad right now is a massive understatement.

“now, mind telling me how you were able to sneak into the most impenetrable prison in all the land, miss prisoner?”

how did it end up like this?

so you wake up and find yourself in jail. lovely.

seriously, of all the places you can transmigrate into, why did it have to be fontaine?! Teyvat's Seven Stars chapter 4's main starting point, the nation of justice is littered with dark themes and high difficulty capture targets.

.... such is the case with the man in front of you. unlike what the rumors of him say, duke wriothesley paints a rugged yet dashing picture of a nobleman, even if he was —if you recall— one of the hardest capture targets to conquer in the game.

a villain character who you played once during one game route, acting as the driving force during one of the love events of one of the protagonist's other love interest, lyney. duke wriothesley almost assassinates lyney's younger brother, freminent, leading lyney to rally up a certain group to bring the nobleman down.... a typical side character villain, who's existence was added as late as 3 patches away from lyney's.

(even inazuma would be better than this! at least the tyrant route could be avoided, and let's not mention the easy sumeru route as well...)

“well, miss prisoner, cat got your tongue?”

in summary: fortunately for you, the body you transmigrated is in the position to spy on the current affairs of the fortress of meropide, with courtesy and with permission of one of Fontaine's leaders, neuvillette. unfortunately for you, it seems our dear monsieur wasn't able to inform wriothesley beforehand, leading to the current situation.

aka, you're pressed dangerously close to wriothesley's chest, with a knife at his throat and his hands pinning you against the wall, noses almost touching. you're not sure if this is even the kind of tension that two people who are trying to kill each other are supposed to have...

(“i'm an ally!” you sputter out. wriothesley raises an eyebrow at you. “monsieur neuvillette sent me.”

“how am i supposed to trust you after i saw you slinking around here, knife at my throat?” he replies, eyes narrowing. “i know that i'm labelled as a beast, but i don't really know what came over that pretty little head of yours when trying to sneak into my chambers.”

what does he take you for?! “...are you accusing me of something indecent?!”

“just saying — i've met lots of prisoners with your excuse, my lady.”

“i'm prepared to use this knife, you know.”

“hah.” wriothesley grins. “how aggressive. more aggressive than most. do you want me that bad?”

“stop twisting my words!”)

in any case, you hate wriothesley. you know he's one of the characters in Teyvat's Seven Stars and is a villain for one of the easy love interest routes in the game, but his personality is... a real piece of work.

you'd rather the protective and kind kazuha, or even the charming and elusive lyney! why did it have to be him?

not only did he not believe you, he even told you to prove your authenticity! you're just glad that his assistant sigewinne had been there to vouch for you — you're not sure if you'd even be on your two feet right now if she didn't.

so now you're stuck constantly on your feet, running to and fro — helping the dark-haired man record new prisoners, establishing trading routes to the main city of Fontaine, and treating other prisoners of the fortress with sigewinne.

your biggest surprise by far, though, is just how... different the duke is from the rumors. his scars were merely battle scars of honor (to which sigewinne rolls her eyes, “your grace, please stop trying to look cool”) he got from various succession fights, not scars to show how he was cursed to turn into a beast. he has a love for tea, but always seems to have a cup of your favorite blend with him when you feel tired after a long day of working (laboring) for him and the estate.

(“your daily report of new convicts, your grace.”

“-this is the tea you like, your grace. i've prepared it in advance.”

“you're very adamant on proving yourself. aren't you sick of such tasks by now, miss prisoner?”

“no.” wriothesley's expression screams 'why not?' on it. “ it's because of my own misjudgement of you.”

“...elaborate.”

“i may have had unnecessary prejudices on your conduct thus far. but you're... not like what the rumors paint you out to be.” you say sincerely. “you're more amazing and incredible than anyone else. i truly do admire you.”

wriothesley's expression; you couldn't decipher it. “i see.”)

he's battered, but caring. sigewinne makes you watch (in horror) as she doodles cartoonish looking characters on his face when he's asleep — wriothesley never fusses, only an exasperated sigh to his assistant. he's harsh with his tasks and duties, but is the first to rush you into sigewinne's infirmary to tend to you after you pass out from overwork.

(“don't worry, [name]. the duke may not look it, but he's very gentle!” sigewinne giggles. humoring the little girl who was the first to show you actual decency in this place, you try to nod. sigewinne doesn't seem convinced.

“i'm serious! after all, compared to other people who've snuck into the fortress, you're the first he's treated this way.” she says cheerily.

“what does that mean?” you can't help but scoff at that. “so he just works someone to the bone from the get go?” you shudder. damn production zone...

sigewinne blinks. “ oh no, not like that. it's just that he's never been so lenient before. in fact, when you fainted, he even gave me the order to prioritize treating you over anything else.”)

well, this wasn't exactly what you thought you would be doing when you transmigrated into your favorite game, but you suppose you can take it.

besides, you'd miss a certain duke otherwise. life truly is full of strange twists....

a/n: thank you for making it this far! if anyone asks why wriothesley's was short, listen, this was completely impulsive and i was out of inspiration LOL, but i do hope you enjoy! look forward to new parts though hehe :3

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

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writingwithfolklore · 7 months

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5 Tips for Creating Intimidating Antagonists

Antagonists, whether people, the world, an object, or something else are integral to giving your story stakes and enough conflict to challenge your character enough to change them. Today I’m just going to focus on people antagonists because they are the easiest to do this with!

1. Your antagonist is still a character

While sure, antagonists exist in the story to combat your MC and make their lives and quest difficult, they are still characters in the story—they are still people in the world.

Antagonists lacking in this humanity may land flat or uninteresting, and it’s more likely they’ll fall into trope territory.

You should treat your antagonists like any other character. They should have goals, objectives, flaws, backstories, etc. (check out my character creation stuff here). They may even go through their own character arc, even if that doesn’t necessarily lead them to the ‘good’ side.

Really effective antagonists are human enough for us to see ourselves in them—in another universe, we could even be them.

2. They’re… antagonistic

There’s two types of antagonist. Type A and Type B. Type A antagonist’s have a goal that is opposite the MC’s. Type B’s goal is the same as the MC’s, but their objectives contradict each other.

For example, in Type A, your MC wants to win the contest, your antagonist wants them to lose.

In Type B, your MC wants to win the contest, and your antagonist wants to win the same contest. They can’t both win, so the way they get to their goal goes against each other.

A is where you get your Draco Malfoy’s, other school bullies, or President Snow’s (they don’t necessarily want what the MC does, they just don’t want them to have it.)

B is where you get the other Hunger Games contestants, or any adventure movie where the villain wants the secret treasure that the MCs are also hunting down. They want the same thing.

3. They have well-formed motivations

While we as the writers know that your antagonist was conceptualized to get in the way of the MC, they don’t know that. To them, they exist separate from the MC, and have their own reasons for doing what they do.

In Type A antagonists, whatever the MC wants would be bad for them in some way—so they can’t let them have it. For example, your MC wants to destroy Amazon, Jeff Bezos wants them not to do that. Why not? He wants to continue making money. To him, the MC getting what they want would take away something he has.

Other motivations could be: MC’s success would take away an opportunity they want, lose them power or fame or money or love, it could reveal something harmful about them—harming their reputation. It could even, in some cases, cause them physical harm.

This doesn’t necessarily have to be true, but the antagonist has to believe it’s true. Such as, if MC wins the competition, my wife will leave me for them. Maybe she absolutely wouldn’t, but your antagonist isn’t going to take that chance anyway.

In Type B antagonists, they want the same thing as the MC. In this case, their motivations could be literally anything. They want to win the competition to have enough money to save their family farm, or to prove to their family that they can succeed at something, or to bring them fame so that they won’t die a ‘nobody’.

They have a motivation separate from the MC, but that pesky protagonist keeps getting in their way.

4. They have power over the MC

Antagonists that aren’t able to combat the MC very well aren’t very interesting. Their job is to set the MC back, so they should be able to impact their journey and lives. They need some sort of advantage, privilege, or power over the MC.

President Snow has armies and the force of his system to squash Katniss. She’s able to survive through political tension and her own army of rebels, but he looms an incredibly formidable foe.

Your antagonist may be more wealthy, powerful, influential, intelligent, or skilled. They may have more people on their side. They are superior in some way to the protagonist.

5. And sometimes they win

Leading from the last point, your antagonists need wins. They need to get their way sometimes, which means your protagonist has to lose. You can do a bit of a trade off that allows your protagonist to lose enough to make a formidable foe out of their antagonist, but still allows them some progress using Fortunately, Unfortunately.

It goes like… Fortunately, MC gets accepted into the competition. Unfortunately, the antagonist convinces the rest of the competitors to hate them. Fortunately, they make one friend. Unfortunately, their first entry into the competition gets sabotaged. Fortunately, they make it through the first round anyway, etc. etc.

An antagonist that doesn’t do any antagonizing isn’t very interesting, and is completely pointless in their purpose to heighten stakes and create conflict for your protagonist to overcome. We’ll probably be talking about antagonists more soon!

Anything I missed?

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing inspiration #writing community #filmmaking #books #film #writing advice #antagonists #villains #writing antagonists #5 tips for creating intimidating antagonists

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cerastes · 1 month

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Legitimately can't stop thinking about the brilliance of Degenbrecher's introduction as a playable character.

We've known Degenbrecher for a long, long time before this event, and even before Break The Ice, actually: Before Arknights even released, Gnosis and Degen can be seen in this pre-launch trailer at 0:14.

Degenbrecher existed for years as this larger-than-life figure shrouded in rumor and fame, with an almost supernatural countenance to her presence in the corner of the narrative she inhabits: The three-time Grand Champion of the Kazimierz Major, the dreaded Black Knight, the peerless warrior, who has the strength of ten knight companies on her shoulders alone. Spoken of in equal parts awe and fear, her stint in the knightly competitions were legendary in how one-sided they were whenever she took to the field, and Platinum even comments that her portraits on the gallery of champions all make it seem like she doesn't even age, adding a supernatural element to her legacy. All we know is that she's currently SilverAsh's bodyguard and no doubt part of why his faction is so formidable, as it would be for anyone who has a one-woman army on their payroll. When we are finally introduced to her formally in the narrative, she's all business, no non-sense, in the middle of her job, and boy howdy is she good at it: We know the kind of juice Rhodes Island Elite Operators have, they are really, really strong, and yet all Sharp can do is stall for time against her, with tacit understanding that no matter how much he tries, he is NOT overcoming her.

There is not a single thing anyone present on Doc's side can do to actually overcome Degenbrecher during Break The Ice, so the very best thing anyone could do was stall her. THAT is the winning move, or at least as close to one. She's that formidable, and then some. We only see her in business mode here, with a small glimpse to her more noble nature in that she is nothing but non-self aggrandizing compliments for Sharp for being able to even fight her, even if there is no chance he can beat her, because most people just take a single swing from her. When Doc's plan succeeds and we reach the climax, she simply sheathes, says "Well played", SA recalls her back to her pokeball, and we are left letting out a sigh of relief that we made it in time.

Then, for some more years after that, that's our impression of her: Unsurmountable. We don't know much more about her other than she is simply not someone you measure up to. This, by itself, isn't particularly unique, both as a concept or in the cast of Arknights, but it leaves you to wonder exactly what is she beyond being Unsurmountable. Who is she, actually?

Then, The Rides to Lake Silbernherze happens, where she is the main character, and after all those years of mystique and grandeur, of guessing and wondering, we finally can see her not as a plot device, but as an actual character: The very first scene is her covered in blood and raw jumping on a moving train for some mysterious purpose. Oh god, oh no, why is she soaked in blood already? Is she already in Terminator mode?

Then, in the best possible payoff of years of mystique and build-up, we learn that Degenbrecher, the person, not the plot device, the person, is fucking hilarious.

She's covered in blood because she stopped by a nearby farm to help farmers deliver a farm animal, which covered her in blood given how messy births are. She apparently didn't have to do this, and just opted to because, well, she was there, they needed help, and she's in a perpetual state of down to clown.

While pursuing possible dangerous elements to Kjerag later, she stops by to talk with tourists and recommend good spots to sightsee and eat before resuming her chase Looney Toons style.

She looks the same in the three champion portraits because she didn’t like the photoshoots so she skipped them. They were just reusing her photo.

She'll have the single most mundane conversations with the simplest people in midst of off-handedly mentioning that she quite enjoys fistfighting avalanches -- in a setting where this is not at all normal or feasible -- just to test herself. Reactions to her saying this vary from "hey is this a bit" to "oh, Degenbrecher, you card, we saw you do that the other day, next time I'll bring my camera".

She's a combination of Bugs Bunny, Sakamoto-kun, and Broly, and her main gimmick is that she's a reasonable, normal ass person in terms of personality sans the more overt feats of power like fistfighting avalanches. She's just Someone, who just happens to be mind-bogglingly strong and skilled with the greatsword and with swordbreakers.

This is doubly hilarious when you compare her to other one-woman armies we know: Nearl's dialogue is entirely composed of flowery promises for a better tomorrow and heroic declarations, Saria has woman pain 9000 and hasn't had a good day in years, Skadi is afflicted with survivor's guilt which in turn lead to a potent-self loathing and rationalizing her mere presence is what causes tragedy to those around her. Degenbrecher, in comparison, is just happy to be here, enjoys a good fight within reason, loves challenging herself, and honestly is quite content with stuff like paperwork or small talk. She's the friend you call to help you move or when your pipe busts or when you need someone to take care of your kid for a few hours if you're going to be late home due to work. And she puts her entire god damn pussy into it, too, you bet your kid is going to have the time of their life if Degenbrecher is on babysitting duty. Degenbrecher chips in for pizza night. Degenbrecher helps you change your flat tire.

The essence of Degenbrecher is that the rest of Terra is going through some really dire, really interesting times, to say the least, but she's on New Game+ just sort of doing side quests, overleveled as hell and with her shit figured out, and she decides to be as funny as possible about it.

#arknights #degenebrecher #I fucking love her

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milswrites · 5 months

Text

The Trials of Aphrodite Part Five

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: You make the most unlikely of friends.

Warnings: Angst.

“I think you should talk to Elain.”

You scoffed as you looked up from the pages of your book, brows raised and eyes rolling as you turned your once focused gaze to the anticipatory stare of your friend, “Good morning to you too, Az. I’m swell, thank you for asking.”

Hazel eyes narrowing at your remark, a sound of disbelief fell from Azriel’s lips as your attention returned to the book between your hands. Disgruntled by his piercing gaze, you stubbornly moved the object to block him from your view. Your action drawing a groan of contention from the shadowsinger as he argued, “Oh come on sweetheart, I just got ahead of myself. I’m sorry, alright?”

Azriel sighed lowly as he realized you weren’t going to budge, lips downturned as his hands came to rest on either arm of the chair you were curled up in. “Angel?” he asked tentatively, leaning forwards until the tip of his nose brushed against the spine of your book, a teasing finger coming to push the novel down until his amused gaze met your own formidable glare. The heated breath of his mirthful chuckle kissing your cheeks as he smirked, “How’s my best friend doing on this lovely day?”

You snorted at his question, eyes unforgiving as you answered flatly, “I’m telling Cassian that you called me your best friend.”

The shadowsinger chuckled at your words, shrugging his shoulders in dismissal as he added, "Come on angel. If you don't tell me how your day is, I guess I'm just going to have to tell Rhys that it was you who knocked over the entire shelf of his expensive wines last solstice."

You slammed your book shut, glaring daggers at the male as you seethed, "You wouldn't dare! You swore you would never tell!"

"You're right, and I always make good on my promises. But it's nice to see your beautiful face again." Azriel grinned devilishly, sliding the book from your lap before you could utilize it as a weapon, "Now, how's my angel doing today?"

You huffed, unable to stop the small smile from pulling at your lips at the male's antics, "Slightly annoyed that I still fall for your same tricks after five hundred years of friendship."

"But you still love me all the same," Azriel grinned. Your eyes shied from his playful gaze as he spoke, cheeks turning pale as you wondered if Azriel knew just how truthful his statement was. Yet the male failed to notice your change in demeanor, rather, he proceeded once more with tentatively approaching the topic of his arrival, "So much so that you'd talk to Elain for me?"

You slumped into your chair, resisting the urge to groan in frustration at your friend's proposal, "Az, I have never once spoken to Elain. Don't you think she'd be suspicious if I started trying to be her friend out of the blue?"

"But isn't that what wingmen -" Azriel shrank under your unimpressed stare, nervously laughing as he corrected himself, " - sorry - wingwomen do?"

Your mouth parted wordlessly, mind searching for any possible excuse as to why you talking to Elain for him would be a bad idea. But it was too late, Azriel had sensed your reluctance. His hand coming to meet your own as he pleaded his case, "There is not a single person in Prythian you could talk to who wouldn't fall for your charm. Look . . . It'll be easy. I just think I may have more of a chance with her if you shared some things about me that you think she may like to hear."

"What, like the fact that you still sleep with the stuffed bat I gave you centuries ago?" you teased as payback for his earlier comment, taking pleasure in the way Azriel's smile dropped in horror. The male's eyes blowing wide in alarm as he stammered a pitiful response, "How did you -? . . . I- I don't sleep with him anymore!"

"Him?" you laughed at Azriel’s pitiful attempt of a burning glare, throwing your head back in glee at the sight. Proud that you were possibly the only person alive who could be on the receiving end of one of the shadowsinger's threatening stares and live to tell the tale.

"You're hilarious, truly" Azriel replied flatly, “It’s nice to see how much you care about my love life”. The shadowsinger, unamused by your incessant giggling, permissed a grave expression to cross his face as he continued to press the matter, "Please. I really need her to like me, and if that means that I need to ask my guardian angel to work her magic . . ."

Your heart clenched at his words, the laughter dying in your throat as your eyes fell from his own pleading ones to the hands at your lap. Stare cold and broken as you realized Rhysand had been wrong the other day. You could never say no. Not to Azriel.

You were a victim of your own heart's desire, cursed with the unfortunate luck of only ever being able to answer the male with words he so longed to hear. Azriel the commander and executioner of your love as your reply slipped from your lips before you could even think about stopping yourself, "Of course I'll speak to her, Az. That's what friends do, right?"

"And what a great friend you are" he grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing at your acceptance, "I'll pay you back for this, I promise. We'll go to that restaurant you like, the one down by the Rainbow."

"Yeah. . .” Azriel was gone before you could even finish your sentence, his shadows lingering for a moment before they ultimately decided on following their master, “That sounds nice. . ."

You quietly sigh, vacant eyes never straying from your lap as you move your shaky hands to cling onto the arms of the chair, gripping the velvet upholstery in an effort to stop your uncontrollable trembling.

Terrified at the prospect of facing the female who was in every way your superior, you exhaled deeply. Rubbing at the growing ache in your temples as you readied yourself to look into the eyes of the cauldron-blessed fae who had stolen Azriel’s heart.

It didn't take long to find her.

The majority of Elain’s days were typically spent within the walls of her garden, the timid female preferring to pass her time with the company of flowers rather than that of other fae.

Perhaps you could tell yourself that was why the two of you had never spoken. That her quiet, reserved nature was the reason for the silence between you. That it had absolutely nothing to do with the shadowsinger who had managed to capture both of your affections.

If that were the case, perhaps you would have allowed yourself to have visited her garden sooner. Sparing the time to come and admire the beautifully blooming flowers, taking the opportunity to bask in the soothing tranquility of your surroundings. You had to admit it was impressive, the radiant life that Elain had managed to bring to the garden that the workers have otherwise been unable to do so.

But you also had to admit that you have been selfish, and unfairly so. Unable to help but wonder if your reason for visiting Elain today was a punishment from the gods, a penalty for having not been more welcoming to the female upon her arrival to the Night Court.

It didn't take long for Elain to notice your presence in her garden, the sound of your approaching footsteps being enough to pull the female's attention from the flowers she was tending to. Her brow creased in confusion as she saw exactly who it was walking towards her.

"Uh, hello Elain," you awkwardly began, smile tight as you mentally cursed yourself for your uncomfortable demeanor, "I saw you through the window and I um . . . I thought you may appreciate a tea."

Elain's eyes dropped to the cup held between your shaky hands, mouth slightly parting in question at your unusually kind gesture, "Oh . . . "

Sighing, you closed the distance between you, placing the cup on the ground before opting to sit beside the female. "It was Azriel's idea" you confessed, tentatively glancing in Elain's direction, noting how her ears pricked at the mention of your friend's name, "He thought it might be a nice idea for you to have someone to talk to. . . The tea was all me though."

"That's nice of him" Elain allowed a soft smile to grace her lips, moving to pick up the cup before she nervously added, "and you, thank you for the tea."

"Yeah, he's always watching out for the people he cares about" you winced at your words, eyes closing in shame as you were aware of just how terribly this conversation was going. Moving your hand to pick at the hem of your dress as you resisted the urge to flee in embarrassment.

But if Elain were bothered by your uneasy company she didn't show, moving to pick up her trowel once more as she resumed her gardening, her words light as she replied, "I know I'm considerably younger than all you fae, but that doesn't make me stupid. I know why you're here."

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing as you found yourself unable to stop the rising wave of panic which had begun to wash over you, nervous eyes flickering over the poised female as you breathlessly asked, "What?"

"I know love when I see it" Elain answered, briefly turning from her task so her brown eyes could meet your own, "That's why Azriel sent you to talk to me wasn't it? Because he thinks he loves me."

"You know?" you asked at a higher octave than deemed normal, unable to help the surprised laugh which escaped your lips, leaning back onto your hands as you allowed the information to soak in. Mouth dropped in disbelief as you gathered your thoughts, "You'd certainly make for a better spymaster than him."

"It doesn't exactly take a spymaster to see it" Elain smirked slightly, seemingly pleased by your astonished reaction. Gesturing to a spare trowel she continued, "Come on, if we're going to talk you may as well be helping me."

A feeling of satisfied contentment washed over you as the two of you worked in a comfortable silence. It wasn't hard to understand why Elain loved to spend all of her time here, the quiet calm of the garden was a suitable place to sieve through the questions which had risen at her revelation.

Wondering exactly where it was you were supposed to begin, you tentatively asked, "So why haven't you told him that you know?" Your face immediately turning pale as your tumultuous thoughts had already answered for her, heart racing as you voiced the glaring question on your mind, "Unless you don't love him back?"

It had always been a possibility that Elain didn't share the same feelings for Azriel as he did for her. You would be lying if you said you hadn't hoped for it. Having already pondered the possibility that if the shadowsinger were to be rejected, his lovesick eyes may then turn to you. You almost scoffed at how pathetic the idea was.

And yet, inexplicably, a sinking feeling had risen in your chest. Heart already breaking at the mere thought of how Azriel would react to the terrible news that Elain didn't like him back.

It took several moments for the female to reply, mind lost to her own thoughts as she searched for an appropriate answer. "Love him?" Elain pondered, gaze distant as she stared at a budding flower before her, "No. But I could grow to."

The soft sigh which escaped from Elain's lips told you she had more to say, her eyes thinly veiled by a white mist as she began to explain her reasoning, “I was engaged once - if you'd believe it - but then the war happened, and Hybern, and then by some cruel trick of fate the cauldron turned me into the one thing that my fiancé had always been taught to hate."

You failed to find an answer worthy of speaking, sympathy brewing in your chest at the female's admission that her transition has been more than difficult. Guilty, that between your bitterness and jealousy, you hadn't stopped to think about exactly what it was Elain was going through.

"I never got a choice, not when I got shoved into the cauldron and not when I got brought here. . . So I don't really know what it is I want with my life anymore. I'm not even sure I know who I am. But I do know Azriel makes me happy," Elain's words drew you from your spiraling shame, a wistful smile on the young fae's face as she spoke about the male, "When I'm with him I don't have to be who I used to be. . . He gives me the room to figure out who I am in this new life I have been given."

"You make him happy too, Elain" you answered with a sad smile, swallowing your pain as you tried to blink away your rising tears, "He really does think the world of you."

It didn’t take long for you to realize you had allowed your emotions to get the better of you, your face blanching as shock crossed Elain's features. Her eyes full of sorrow as she turned her gaze to you, "You love him?"

"And he loves you."

You did your best to shrug away the females sympathetic stare as you moved to continue gardening, yet Elain's pitiful eyes remained on you, lips downturned as she queried, "How long?"

You laughed at the answer to her question, too embarrassed to reveal to Elain that you had wasted centuries pining after a male who would never love you back, "Let's just say it's been long enough for me to know it's time to move on."

Elain hummed in quiet understanding, taking a moment to think before her head tilted in question, "And have you?”

"Have I what?"

"Moved on?"

There was no malice in Elain Acheron's voice, not as each question she asked was delivered with such empathy. Rather, you found yourself blushing at her curious nature, a shy smile gracing your features as you found yourself revealing, "I'm getting there, one day at a time. . . I may have met someone the other day."

Elain squealed in excitement, dropping her trowel as she moved her body to face yours, eagerly outstretching her hands to meet your own as she laced them together and begged, "Tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell" you reply honestly, ears burning at the thought of the male you had met the other day, "We've only met once, at the bakery in Velaris. He spilt his coffee all over me and then we just got talking. I don't know. . . It just felt so natural, for once in my life I didn't find myself thinking of . . . well . . . Az. He asked to meet me again but -"

"Oh you have to!" Elain cried, an encouraging grin crossing her face as she urged you to take the step. Her searching eyes not failing to miss the hesitance in your own;, hands squeezing yours as she offered her advice, “Moving on isn’t meant to be easy. But the regret you’ll feel if you miss this chance will hurt more. . . Besides you never know, this male might surprise you, it already sounds like he’s swept you off your feet.”

You smiled at Elain, the thought of males far from your mind as you found yourself unable to think of anything other than how utterly and completely wrong you had been about her. Brows knitted together in regret, you expressed this to the female, “You know, you’re not quite the person I expected you to be Elain Archeron.”

The fae's eyes twinkled in response, a matching smile upon her lips as she replied, “No, neither are you.”

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

Notes: Sorry for the wait for this part 🥲 my uni kind of killed me off for a moment. And thank you to @sarawritestories who helped me iron this part out because my brain is fried at the moment.

Taglist:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @lady-of-tearshed @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @Jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel series #azriel oneshot #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel imagine

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entitled-fangirl · 2 months

Text

Chance. (P2)

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!reader; Aegon x wife!reader

Summary: Aemond finds that his ploy is having the opposite effect- driving her away from him slowly.

Part 1, Part 3

Masterlist

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

In the days that followed, Aemond had managed to lure the poor doe from Aegon's room.

She now took walks with him daily, something he found himself enjoying more than he thought he initially would.

Like now.

"Against Caraxes?" She asked with a slight grin. "I thought both Caraxes and Meleys have seen war."

"They have. But I believe Meleys would win."

"I believe Vhagar would best them both."

He felt a warm feeling go through his heart at that. "That was not the hypothetical scenario that I stated though, was it?"

"No, but it is the truth. Vhagar is a formidable creature."

His head tilted, "Vhagar is quite… kind, actually."

She stopped walking to look at him. "Is she?"

He hummed, "Very gentle in spirit. She must make up for my lack thereof."

Her lips pulled into a teasing grin, "You're quite gentle when you wish to be."

"I suppose so." He reasoned, "I just do not wish to be very often."

…

"THAT BASTARD!" Aemond roared as he entered his mother's chambers.

Alicent turned and stood, "Aemond, what are-"

"Did you know about this?" He seethed.

She stared. "About what?"

"The marriage. A fucking marriage."

"What marriage?" She asked. "What are you talking about?"

"That slimy bastard will have his hands all over her," he spoke through gritted teeth. "And I must let him."

"Speak plainly, Aemond. You're confusing me."

He forced himself to take a deep breath and lower his voice, "My brother denied my betrothal. And now he takes my place in it."

Alicent tilted her head, "He wishes to marry her?"

"He does not love her." Aemond's fist clenched. "He will not love her as I can."

"That's what this is about then," she said. "A brotherly feud?"

"He only wishes to make my life harder, mother. And you let him."

He stormed out the door, kicking a chair on his way, not caring for the loud clattering sound of it against the floor.

…

"How does he fair today, my queen?" Aemond asked.

She looked up from Aegon to the prince, "Better. He's… better, I suppose."

"He does not look it."

She let out a frustrated huff, "Anything is better than the state you brought him to me in."

He smirks, "Do watch your tongue, doe."

She tilted her head curiously, "Why? Don't misconstrue my words, my prince. I only mean to say that you returned without a mere scratch and our king is…" She paused as she look to him, "…beyond repair."

"That was the will of the gods, not mine own. Remember that."

"And yet they named you regent. Didn't they?"

Aemond's jaw clenched and he took steady steps to the foot of the bed she sat on, "I am a worthy candidate for the crown, am I not?"

"Your mother ruled in your father's stead. Should I not rule now?"

"No, pretty doe. You're to care for the king. He needs a… woman's touch."

Her eyes flitted down to the dagger Aemond possessed.

He continued, "Do watch who enters here. You never know who you can trust."

She looked back up to him a new look in her eyes, "Right."

…

Something began to stir in the girl as she thought about Aemond as the regent now.

Some things just didn't add up.

And it seemed Alicent thought the same.

Y/n spotted Alicent walking down the halls and decided to catch up to her. "My lady?"

Alicent turned, seeing the girl, "Is Aegon alright?"

"Yes," she found herself now nervous under the older woman's gaze. "I found myself needing advice, is all."

"Oh. Um." Alicent hums, stumped. "Let us take a walk then, I suppose."

"I'd like that."

…

Y/n called in the knock that sounded at her door.

Aemond entered and she stood at his entrance, "My prince."

He shook his head, "Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act so formerly. As if we were not betrothed only hours ago."

She sighed and sat back down. "I do not know what you wish for me to say."

"That you're upset, perhaps?" He scoffed.

She huffed back, "I have had no say this entire time. Why would I just now be upset?"

"Because you know what Aegon is."

"I do."

His jaw clenched, "And still nothing?"

"My prince, my life was bargained for before I was out of my mother's womb. I am used to the feeling of disappointment."

He sighed and moved towards her, sitting on another chair. "He'll mistreat you."

She stared at the flames of the fireplace, "So be it."

Aemond studied her with his one eye, "You'll wed yourself to a whoremonger that would rather spend his nights drunk in a cold, dark alley than sober with his wife in a warm bed?"

Her eyes watered. "Do not remind me."

Silence filled the room as he considered what to say next.

But she spoke first, "You may not be my husband, but you will be a caring brother-by-law. I know."

He smiled, "I won't abandon you."

…

"As a woman, it must be hard to truly now who your allies are."

Alicent nodded, "It is. Men only want thing in life, and that is anything that gets them hard."

She hummed, a trait she no doubt picked up from her recent time with Aemond, "But how can you be certain?"

The queen regent frowned, "Is there someone you fear as of now?"

"Not I. I fear more for Aegon."

Alicent sighed. "I do as well."

Y/n began to step, leading the two more into the garden. "I cannot protect him all of the time."

"Nor do we all expect you to."

Her jaw clenched, "And yet I find myself protecting a man who cares not for my own wellbeing."

"That's not entirely tru-"

"IT IS!" She cried. "Aegon married me for nothing! I am nothing to him but a whore he can impregnate-"

Her head jerked to the side with a loud slap and a sudden hot pain spread across her cheek.

Alicent had slapped her.

"Do not," the queen regent sneered. "Say those words again."

A shaky hand came up to her cheek, the cold of her palm soothing the pain. "I thought you an ally. But you're not."

Alicent scoffed mockingly, "Silly girl. There are no real allies in this game. Only mutual interests for a common end."

"It seems we wish for different endings then."

"Does it matter anymore?"

When she didn't answer, Alicent began to walk away.

"Alicent-"

She whipped around, "Do not call me that."

Y/n's head shot up with a new look of determination, "I am the queen. Not you. I will call you what I wish."

…

The next day, she met Aemond as always to walk the gardens.

He moved to hold his arm out, but immediately stopped himself. "What befell you?"

Her brows furrowed, "I'm sorry?"

His hand gently brushed her cheek and she flinched at the contact. "My queen. Has someone laid a hand on you?"

She shook her head. "I was being reckless."

His eye studied her closely. "I don't believe you."

She pushed his hand away lightly, "Then don't."

He bent his head down closer to her, "Is someone a threat to you? Must I fix something for you?"

"There is nothing to fix. I wish to go on our walk so I may return to my husband."

My husband.

The words still burned him worse than dragon fire.

He hummed and held his arm out once again, staring their walk.

"I am curious, if you allow me to be so," she began.

He nodded.

"You've dismissed Cole as hand-"

"-And you wish to know his replacement?"

Her head tilted to the side, "I do."

He let out a low breath as he looked down at their path, "I'm assigning it to my grandsire, Otto Hightower. He's done it twice before."

"In a time of peace, that is."

"I suppose that's true. Then again, not many others are good enough even in times of peace, my queen."

"Sitting on the Iron Throne is no easy task, Aemond."

He chewed on his bottom lip as they walked, unsure of what she really wanted to say.

She pulled away from him at the sight of a certain flower. She knelt down at it, touching it with a gentle calmness to her.

She could be such a good queen if Aegon had just given her the chance.

Aemond promised he would.

…

"Dismissed. Except for my mother."

The council members one by one left the table and out the door, save for Alicent who sat with a curious look.

Aemond stood, rounding the table to stand behind her chair, "You dare strike her?"

Alicent took a deep breath, "Aemond, this does not concern you."

"Concern me? Indeed it does." He moved next to her chair, leaning against the table now, "You believed that you could strike her and I would not notice?"

"I did not think she would tell you."

"And alas, she did not."

Alicent's eyes widened at that. "Then how-"

"You've just confirmed it."

Aemond crouched down to her level, practically spitting venom, "I'm removing you from the small council. You're of no use to us and the kingdom anymore if you cannot even keep your hands to yourself, mother."

…

Y/n walked down the halls of the castle, going to Aegon's room as she always did.

Upon entering it, she was surprised to find Lord Larys Strong there.

He pushed himself to stand, "My queen."

She frowned, "My lord."

He turned to Aegon, "I am grateful for your recovery, your grace."

Lord Strong limped by, stopping next to her and speaking in her ear, "If you're in need of an ally, I can be of assistance, my queen."

Her eyes studied Aegon, noting the watery look in his eye. Her jaw clenched, "I believe I am tired of alliances, my lord. They do nothing for me."

He hummed, "Very well, your grace. My offer stands if you change your mind."

She turned her head to him with disdain, "I won't."

His jaw set but he nodded and left without another word.

Upon the door closing, she moved to Aegon's side, exactly where Lord Strong had been moments before. "There you are."

His hand moved towards the bedside table, clearly reaching for something.

She looked, noting the cup of the milk of the poppy that sat there untouched.

She quickly took the cup in her hands, "Relax yourself, my king."

He moved back, a small tear in his eye.

She leaned down, wiping it from his cheek with a gentle smile. "You foolish man. What's wrong?"

He coughed a bit, "Ae…aemond…"

Her brows furrowed, "Aemond? What of Aemond?"

His hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her to him with what little strength he had. He cried as he did so, "Do not…"

She studied him with a worried gaze, "Do not...?"

The door opened, and she quickly looked over her shoulder.

Aemond himself stood in the doorway.

"How is his grace?"

She looked back to Aegon who looked ready to cry again. "He's doing alright. He'll be resting again soon enough."

Aemond hummed, stepping to the other side of the bed to watch the two.

Her hand moved to the back of Aegon's head, leaning him up to sip from the cup in her other hand.

He carefully took in the liquid, sighing as he finished.

The woman leaned forward and kissed his forehead, "Sleep well."

She stood up and abandoned the cup with her focus now on Aemond, "Let us leave him in peace for a while."

"Yes," he said absent-mindedly. "We should."

But his mind was far from absent. In fact, it only thought one thing.

What had Aegon told her?

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

part 3

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natsgrave · 3 months

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THE SMALLEST WOMAN WHO EVER LIVED | natasha romanoff

and i don't miss what we had, but could someone give a message to the smallest woman who ever lived? i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! masterlist

The night was dark, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the cityscape. Shadows danced across the abandoned warehouse where she had taken refuge, a place forgotten by time and society. The woman sat in a corner, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her body trembling from exhaustion and fear. Her name was Y/N, but she hadn't been called that in years. To HYDRA, she was known only as Subject 47.

For years, Y/N had been their pawn, subjected to torturous experiments designed to unlock her latent powers. She had been forced to use those powers in ways she could never have imagined, becoming a weapon in HYDRA's arsenal. But she had endured, biding her time, waiting for the moment when she could break free. That moment had come, and now she was on the run, trying to stay one step ahead of the organization that had taken everything from her.

The memories of her escape were still fresh in her mind: the alarms blaring, the shouts of the guards, the searing pain of the injuries she had sustained. But she had made it out, and that was all that mattered. She had to keep moving, had to stay hidden. She couldn't afford to be found, not now.

As she sat in the darkness, her thoughts drifted back to the years of torment she had endured. She remembered the faces of the scientists who had experimented on her, the cold, clinical way they had treated her, as if she were nothing more than a specimen. She remembered the pain, the isolation, the despair. But most of all, she remembered the moments when she had been forced to use her powers to harm others, to carry out HYDRA's will. Those memories haunted her, gnawing at her conscience.

She knew she couldn't go back to being the person she once was. That person was gone, replaced by someone who had been forged in fire and darkness. But she also knew she couldn't let HYDRA win. She had to survive, no matter the cost.

Y/N's powers were formidable. She had the ability to manipulate energy, to create devastating blasts of force that could level buildings. She could also control minds, bending others to her will. These abilities had made her a valuable asset to HYDRA, but they were also a constant reminder of the monster she had become.

She had tried to lay low, to stay out of sight. But it was difficult. Her powers were unpredictable, and sometimes they manifested in ways she couldn't control. And then there was the constant need for resources. Food, money, shelter— these were things she couldn't simply conjure out of thin air. She had turned to a life of crime, using her powers to rob, to steal, to survive. It was a dark path, but it was the only one she knew.

One night, as she was preparing to leave the warehouse and find another place to hide, she heard a noise. Her heart raced as she turned, her powers at the ready. A figure emerged from the shadows, a woman with a determined look in her eyes.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice cold and wary. "How did you find me?"

The woman raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "My name is Natasha," she said calmly. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."

"Talk?" Y/N scoffed. "I don't have time for talking. If you're HYDRA, you won't leave here alive."

"I'm not HYDRA," Natasha assured her. "I know what they did to you. I know what you're capable of. I'm here to help."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, her suspicion evident. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I've been where you are," Natasha replied, her voice softening. "I know what it's like to be used, to be turned into something you're not. But you don't have to keep living this way. There are people who can help you, who can help you control your powers, who can give you a chance at a new life."

Y/N's resolve wavered. She wanted to believe her, but trust was a luxury she couldn't afford. "How do I know you're not lying?"

Natasha took a step closer, her eyes filled with sincerity. "You don't. But you have a choice. You can keep running, keep hiding, keep doing things you hate. Or you can take a chance, and maybe— just maybe— find a way out of this darkness."

Y/N stared at Natasha, her mind racing. She had spent so long fighting, so long surviving. The idea of something better, something different, was almost too much to hope for. But as she looked into Natasha's eyes, she saw something she hadn't seen in a long time: hope.

"Alright," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll listen. But if this is a trap, if you're lying to me…"

"I'm not," Natasha interrupted gently. "I promise you, you're not alone anymore."

And for the first time in years, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness after all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Natasha grew closer. The walls Y/N had built around herself slowly began to crumble as Natasha showed her a different way to live, a way that didn't involve fear and isolation. They spent their days training, honing Y/N's powers with precision and control, and their evenings talking, sharing stories of their pasts.

One evening, they sat on the rooftop of an old building, the city lights twinkling below them. The air was cool, and a gentle breeze rustled their hair. Y/N sat on the edge of the rooftop, her legs dangling over the side as she stared out at the city lights. The memory she was about to share was one she had buried deep within herself, a wound that had never fully healed. But Natasha's presence, her understanding, gave Y/N the courage to finally let it out.

"It was one of the worst days," Y/N began, her voice barely above a whisper. Natasha's eyes gazed into her softly, curious about what she was about to share. "I had been with HYDRA for a few years by then. They had already started experimenting on me, trying to unlock my powers. I was in so much pain, all the time. But this day… this day was different."

Natasha sat beside her, listening intently, her eyes filled with empathy.

"They had me in this lab," Y/N continued, her gaze distant as she relived the memory. "It was cold, sterile. The walls were lined with equipment, and there were a dozen scientists there, all watching me like I was some kind of animal. They strapped me to a table, injected me with something. It burned, like fire coursing through my veins. I screamed, but they didn't care. They just watched, taking notes."

Y/N paused, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists. Natasha reached out, gently placing a hand on her arm, grounding her.

"I could feel my powers surging," she said, her voice shaking. "It was like they had torn down a dam inside me, and the energy was flooding out. I couldn't control it. I couldn't stop it. They had these targets set up, and they told me to destroy them. I didn't want to, but the pain… it was unbearable. So I did. I blasted them apart, one after another."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, but she forced herself to continue. "Then they brought in… people. Prisoners, they said. Enemies of HYDRA. They wanted me to use my powers on them. I refused. I begged them to stop, but they just laughed. One of the scientists, Dr. Zola, he was the worst. He looked at me with such contempt. He told me that if I didn't do as they asked, they would make the pain even worse."

Natasha's grip on Y/N's arm tightened, a silent offer of support.

"So I did it," Y/N whispered, the tears now streaming down her face. "I used my powers on those people. I saw the fear in their eyes, heard their screams. I tried to hold back, to minimize the damage, but it was no use. I could see what I was doing to them, the horror and pain I was causing. And all the while, Dr. Zola was there, taking notes, completely detached from the suffering."

Y/N's voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands, sobbing. Natasha pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly as she cried.

"It wasn't your fault," Natasha murmured softly. "They forced you. You were a victim, Y/N, just like those people."

Y/N shook her head, the guilt and shame overwhelming her. "I still see their faces, Natasha. Every night, the same nightmare. I can never forget what I did."

"You were put in an impossible situation," Natasha said firmly, pulling back to look Y/N in the eyes. "HYDRA did that to you, not the real you. The real you is the person sitting here with me, the person who has the strength to fight back, to survive. You are not defined by what they made you do."

Y/N nodded, though the pain was still raw. "I want to believe that. I really do. But it's hard."

"I know it is," Natasha replied, her voice gentle. "But you're not alone anymore. We'll get through this together. We'll find a way to make things right, to move forward."

Y/N took a deep breath, the weight of her past still heavy on her shoulders, but there was a glimmer of hope in her heart. With Natasha by her side, she felt a strength she hadn't known in years.

"Thank you, Natasha," she said quietly. "For listening. For being here."

"Always," Natasha replied, a small, reassuring smile on her lips. "We'll face this together, Y/N. One step at a time."

And as the night stretched on, they sat together on the rooftop, two kindred spirits bound by their pasts but looking forward to a future they could shape with their own hands.

"You know," Y/N said, her eyes fixed on the horizon, "I've never told anyone that before. Not even the other subjects."

Natasha nodded, her expression thoughtful. "It takes a lot of courage to share something like that. I'm honored you trust me."

Y/N glanced at her, a small smile playing on her lips. "You've given me a reason to trust again. I never thought I'd feel that way after everything that's happened."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of their shared experiences hanging in the air. But a nagging thought had been bothering Y/N for days, and she knew she had to address it.

"Natasha," she began hesitantly, "there's something I need to ask you."

Natasha turned to her, her expression open and encouraging. "Anything, Y/N. What is it?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "How did you find me? I mean, really find me. I've been running for so long, staying off the grid. It doesn't make sense."

Natasha's face grew serious, and she looked down at her hands for a moment before meeting Y/N's gaze. "I understand why you're curious. The truth is, I was able to find you because of my past. You see, I wasn't always… on the side of the angels."

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Natasha sighed, her eyes distant as she delved into her memories. "I was trained by a group called the Red Room. It's an organization that turns young girls into assassins, into weapons. They took me when I was just a child and molded me into what they wanted. I was one of their best."

Y/N listened intently, her heart aching at the pain in Natasha's voice. "That sounds… horrible. I'm so sorry, Natasha."

Natasha shook her head. "It's in the past. But the skills they taught me, the connections I made— they're how I was able to track you down. I recognized the signs of someone trying to hide, because I've been there myself."

Y/N's eyes widened in realization. "So you used your training to find me?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes. But not to hurt you. To help you. I saw a kindred spirit in you, someone who had been used and discarded. I wanted to give you a chance to break free, to find your own path."

Y/N's emotions swirled within her. "Thank you, Natasha. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Natasha replied, her voice gentle. "Just know that we can face our pasts together and create a better future."

As the weeks turned into months, their bond grew stronger. They trained together, pushing each other to their limits, and spent their downtime sharing stories and dreams. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, revealing details about her life before HYDRA, her hopes and fears. Natasha, in turn, shared her own experiences, the pain and triumphs that had shaped her into who she was.

One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, they sat on the rooftop again, watching the sunset. Y/N turned to Natasha, her heart full of gratitude and something she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Natasha," she said softly, "thank you for everything. You've given me a reason to believe in myself again."

Natasha smiled, a warmth in her eyes that made Y/N's heart swell. "You've always had that strength, Y/N. You just needed someone to remind you of it."

And in that moment, surrounded by the fading light of the day, Y/N knew that she had found not just a friend, but a kindred spirit. Someone who understood her pain, her struggles, and her dreams. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, and for the first time in years, Y/N felt truly free.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Months and months passed, and Y/N and Natasha became inseparable. Natasha taught Y/N everything from combat techniques to espionage tactics, sharing stories of her own childhood in the Red Room and even recounting funny anecdotes that brought laughter back into Y/N's life. The once distant and cautious Y/N now felt a warmth she hadn't experienced in years.

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed one night, staring at the ceiling, her mind filled with thoughts of Natasha. Every day, she found herself falling deeper in love with the woman who had not only saved her but also given her a reason to live again. Natasha's strength, compassion, and unwavering support had become a beacon in Y/N's life, guiding her through the darkness.

But with those feelings came fear. Y/N was terrified that if she confessed her love, it might push Natasha away. Despite Natasha being a trained assassin with an uncanny ability to read people, Y/N had managed to keep her feelings hidden. She didn't want to risk losing the one person who meant everything to her.

One afternoon, they were training in an abandoned gym they had discovered. The space was perfect for their needs— isolated, spacious, and filled with old equipment that they could use for their rigorous routines. As they sparred, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at Natasha's agility and skill. Even after months of training, Natasha still amazed her with her prowess.

"You're getting better every day," Natasha said, wiping sweat from her brow as they took a break. "I'm proud of you, Y/N."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. "I have a great teacher."

Natasha chuckled, but there was a hint of seriousness in her eyes. "It's not just about the training. It's about finding yourself, trusting yourself. And you're doing that."

Y/N nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude. "Thank you, Natasha. For everything."

Natasha's expression softened. "You don't have to thank me. We're in this together."

As they sat on the gym floor, catching their breath, Natasha began to share another story from her past, this time about a mission that had gone hilariously wrong. Y/N laughed, feeling the tension in her chest ease as the sound of Natasha's laughter filled the room.

"You should have seen the look on his face when the cat jumped out of the box instead of the intel we were expecting." Natasha said, grinning. Avoiding to mention any name.

Y/N shook her head, still laughing. "I wish I could have been there."

Natasha's smile faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful look. "You know, Y/N, I don't think I've ever felt this close to anyone before. It's… different."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, and she looked down, trying to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yeah, it's different for me too."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging in the air. Y/N wanted so desperately to tell Natasha how she felt, but the fear held her back.

One evening, they decided to take a break from training and relax on the rooftop of their safe house. The night was clear, and the stars were scattered across the sky like diamonds. They lay on their backs, side by side, staring up at the cosmos.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have a normal life?" Y/N asked softly.

Natasha sighed. "Sometimes. But I think we make our own normal, don't you? Whatever that looks like."

Y/N turned her head to look at Natasha, her heart aching with unspoken words. "I think you're right."

Natasha met her gaze, her eyes searching Y/N's. "Y/N, is there something you want to tell me?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. The moment had come, and she felt both terrified and exhilarated. "I… Natasha, I—"

Before she could finish, a loud noise from the street below startled them both. They sat up quickly, their training kicking in as they scanned the area for potential threats. After a few tense moments, they realized it was just a group of teenagers making noise.

Natasha sighed in relief, then looked at Y/N with a small smile. "I guess we'll have to save the deep conversations for another time."

Y/N nodded, her heart still pounding. "Yeah, another time."

As they settled back down, Y/N felt a mix of disappointment and relief. The moment had passed, but the feelings remained. She knew she couldn't keep them hidden forever, but for now, she was content to cherish the bond they had, hoping that one day she would find the courage to tell Natasha how deeply she cared for her.

The night had settled into a comfortable stillness, the kind that Y/N had come to appreciate in her new life with Natasha. They had spent the evening on the rooftop, their bond growing even stronger with every shared story and laugh. But the moment of potential confession had been interrupted, leaving Y/N with a mix of emotions that she couldn't quite sort through.

"Hey, I'm going to run to the store to grab a few things," Natasha said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. "Do you need anything?"

Y/N shook her head, offering a warm smile. "No, I'm good. Just hurry back."

Natasha grinned. "Won't be long."

As the door closed behind Natasha, Y/N found herself alone in the quiet apartment. She tried to shake off the lingering thoughts of her unspoken feelings, instead focusing on the simple task of tidying up their training equipment, replaying the evening's conversation in her mind, wondering how she might finally confess her feelings to Natasha. She was just about to sit down and relax when she heard the door creak open again.

"Natasha, that was quick." she began, turning around with a smile. But her words died on her lips as she took in the sight before her.

Instead of Natasha, a group of several figures stood in the doorway, none of whom were Natasha. Y/N's heart began to race.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, stepped forward. His expression was firm but not unkind. "Y/N, we need you to come with us."

Y/N's heart raced, confusion and fear flooding her mind. "How did you find me? Who are you?"

Clint Barton, Hawkeye, responded calmly, "We're the Avengers. We need you to come peacefully. We don't want to hurt you."

But Y/N shook her head, taking a step back. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Tony Stark, Iron Man, sighed. "We were hoping it wouldn't come to this."

"Y/N, please," Captain America urged, taking a step forward. "We don't want to fight you."

Without further warning, Y/N felt a surge of adrenaline. She couldn't let them take her. She had fought too hard, endured too much, to be captured now. Her powers, usually kept in check, surged uncontrollably as her fear and anger took over.

The energy crackling around her as she prepared for a confrontation. "I'm not leaving without a fight."

The battle began with a blur of movement. Y/N unleashed a blast of energy that sent Captain America flying backward, his shield barely absorbing the impact. Iron Man's repulsors fired in response, but Y/N dodged with agility, her movements a blur. Thor swung Mjolnir, but Y/N countered with a force field that deflected the mighty hammer.

Iron Man flew into the air, attempting to get a better angle for his attack. "She's fast. We need to contain her!"

Y/N responded by sending a wave of energy that disrupted Iron Man's flight, causing him to crash into a wall. He recovered quickly, his suit's systems recalibrating, but the momentary distraction gave Y/N the upper hand.

Captain America threw his shield, aiming for Y/N's legs to incapacitate her, but she leaped into the air, avoiding the strike and landing a powerful kick to his chest. He stumbled back but quickly regained his footing, his determination unwavering.

Thor charged at Y/N, lightning crackling around him. He swung Mjolnir with all his might, but Y/N created a barrier that absorbed the impact. She pushed back with a surge of energy, sending Thor skidding across the floor.

Clint shot an arrow aimed at disarming Y/N, but she deflected it with a wave of energy. Steve charged forward, his shield raised, but Y/N countered with a blast of force that once again, sent him skidding backward.

Tony, in his Iron Man suit, launched a series of repulsor blasts. Y/N dodged them with agility honed from months of training with Natasha. She retaliated with a powerful blast that knocked Tony off balance, sending him crashing into a wall.

Thor entered the fray, his hammer Mjolnir crackling with electricity. "Stay your hand, mortal! We mean you no harm!"

But Y/N was beyond reasoning. She unleashed a torrent of energy, attempting to fend off the god of thunder. The two clashed in a dazzling display of power, the air around them crackling with raw force.

As the battle raged on, Y/N's control over her powers slipped. She sent waves of destructive energy in all directions, causing the building to shake and debris to fall. The Avengers fought to contain her without causing her harm, but Y/N's desperation made her unpredictable.

In the midst of the chaos, Y/N caught sight of Natasha standing at the edge of the room, a look of pained determination on her face. Y/N's heart ached with a mix of relief and confusion. She was about to call out to Natasha, to tell her to run, when she saw Natasha raise her wrist, the Widow Bites charging with electricity.

"Natasha, no—" Y/N's words were cut off as the electric shock hit her. Pain surged through her body, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. She fell to her knees, her vision blurring as she tried to process the betrayal.

Confusion, hurt, and betrayal were etched across Y/N's face as she looked up at Natasha. "Why?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the battle.

Natasha's eyes met Y/N's, a silent apology evident in their depths. "Y/N, please. Just listen—"

Before Natasha could finish, Tony approached Y/N cautiously, his helmet retracting to reveal his concerned face. "I'm sorry about this." he said softly, before administering a knockout shot that sent Y/N into unconsciousness.

The last thing Y/N saw was Natasha's face, torn between duty and the bond they had shared. As darkness enveloped her, Y/N's mind swirled with unanswered questions and a profound sense of betrayal.

When Y/N woke up, she found herself in a sterile, secure room, her hands restrained. The cold metal of the restraints bit into her skin, a harsh reminder of her new reality. The stark whiteness of the walls and the faint hum of machinery around her brought back a flood of memories she had desperately tried to bury. Her hands were restrained, the cold metal digging into her wrists, making escape impossible. Panic set in, and her mind raced as she tried to piece together the events that had led her here. The fight with the Avengers, Natasha's betrayal— it all felt like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

Memories from her time in HYDRA began to resurface, unbidden and relentless. She could almost feel the cold, damp walls of the cells they kept her in, hear the echo of her own screams as they experimented on her, pushing her to the brink of insanity. The pain had been unbearable, but the psychological torment was even worse. They had stripped her of her humanity, treating her like a lab rat, an object to be used and discarded.

She remembered the countless nights spent in isolation, the darkness her only companion. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant scream of another unfortunate soul. Y/N had learned to dread the sound of approaching footsteps, knowing it meant another round of torture or experiments. They had tried to break her, to mold her into their perfect weapon, and for a time, they had succeeded.

She could still see the faces of the scientists, their expressions cold and detached as they inflicted unimaginable pain on her. She had begged for mercy, for death, but they had only laughed, their eyes void of any empathy. The experiments had been brutal, designed to push her powers to their limits, often leaving her on the brink of death. They had injected her with unknown substances, subjected her to electric shocks, and forced her to endure endless physical and mental trials.

Her mind drifted to the times when she had been restrained, much like she was now, unable to move or defend herself. She could feel the tightness of the straps, the helplessness that had consumed her as she lay there, vulnerable and exposed. The scientists would talk about her as if she wasn't even there, discussing their next steps in cold, clinical terms. They had stripped her of her identity, reducing her to a mere experiment number.

The fear and anger she had felt during those years were now mingling with the sense of betrayal and hurt she felt towards Natasha. The two emotions intertwined, creating a storm of confusion and pain within her. She had thought she had found a semblance of peace, a way to move forward from her past, but now it all seemed to be crashing down around her.

Y/N's mind shifted to the happier memories she had shared with Natasha, the woman who had seemed to be her savior, her light in the darkness. The way Natasha had smiled at her, the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her touch— all of it felt like a cruel joke now.

How could someone who had meant so much to her be the same person who had deceived her so completely?

She remembered the nights spent talking with Natasha, sharing their deepest fears and dreams. Natasha had made her feel safe, cherished even, something she had never experienced before. The bond they had formed had been real, or so she had thought. The betrayal cut deeper because of the trust she had placed in Natasha, a trust that had been shattered in an instant.

The memories of their time together played in her mind like a cruel montage. Training sessions where Natasha had pushed her to be better, moments of laughter and camaraderie, the quiet evenings where they had simply enjoyed each other's presence. Y/N had opened up to Natasha in ways she had never done with anyone else, revealing parts of herself she had kept hidden for so long.

But now, all those memories felt tainted. She couldn't shake the image of Natasha standing there with the Avengers, the look of determination on her face as she shot Y/N with her Widow's Bite. The physical pain had been nothing compared to the emotional agony of realizing that the one person she had trusted had been sent to betray her.

Y/N's thoughts circled back to her time in HYDRA, the endless cycle of pain and hopelessness. She had endured so much, fought so hard to survive, only to be betrayed by the one person who had given her a reason to keep fighting. The feelings of helplessness and despair were overwhelming, threatening to consume her once more.

She could feel tears welling up, but she refused to let them fall. She had cried enough during her time in HYDRA, and she had vowed never to let herself be that vulnerable again. But the pain of Natasha's betrayal was too much to bear, reopening old wounds that had never truly healed.

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memories, but they came flooding back with even greater intensity. The faces of the scientists, the cold, clinical environment, the pain, the screams— it all felt too real, too immediate. She had spent so long trying to bury those memories, to move past them, but now they were resurfacing with a vengeance.

She thought about the other subjects in HYDRA, the ones who hadn't survived. She could still hear their cries for help, their pleas for mercy. She had been one of the few to make it out alive, but at what cost? The memories of those who had perished haunted her, a constant reminder of the horrors she had endured.

Y/N tried to focus on her breathing, to calm herself, but it was a losing battle. The memories were too strong, too overwhelming. She felt like she was back in those cells, trapped and helpless, with no way out. The room she was in now felt eerily similar, the restraints on her wrists a cruel echo of her past.

The memories of Natasha brought a new wave of pain. She had thought she could trust her, had believed in the bond they had shared. But now, it felt like all of that had been a lie. Natasha's betrayal was a knife to her heart, twisting with every recollection of their time together.

Y/N remembered the times Natasha had held her, comforting her during moments of weakness. She had felt safe in Natasha's arms, believing that she had found someone who truly cared about her. But now, that sense of safety was shattered, replaced by a void of distrust and heartbreak.

She tried to reconcile the Natasha she had come to love with the woman who had betrayed her. It was impossible. The two images clashed in her mind, creating a whirlwind of confusion and pain. She had fallen in love with Natasha, believing in the goodness she saw in her, but now she couldn't tell what had been real and what had been a façade.

The tears she had been holding back finally began to fall. The memories, the pain, the betrayal— it was all too much. She felt like she was drowning, unable to breathe, unable to escape the torment of her past and the heartbreak of the present.

Y/N's mind was a battleground, the memories of HYDRA and her time with Natasha colliding in a cacophony of emotions. She felt the weight of her past pressing down on her, the sense of hopelessness creeping back in. The fight to survive had taken everything she had, and now it felt like she had nothing left to give.

As she sat there, restrained and helpless, Y/N's thoughts drifted to the future. She didn't know what lay ahead, whether she would ever be able to trust again, whether she could find a way to heal from the betrayal. But one thing was certain— she would never forget what she had been through, and she would never forgive Natasha for what she had done.

The pain of betrayal was a wound that would take a long time to heal, if it ever did. But Y/N knew she had to keep fighting, to keep pushing forward, even if it felt impossible. She had survived HYDRA, she had endured unimaginable pain, and she would find a way to survive this too.

The memories of her time in HYDRA, the torment, the helplessness— they were a part of her, but they didn't define her. She was stronger than that, stronger than the pain and the betrayal. And as she sat there, tears streaming down her face, Y/N made a silent vow to herself. She would find a way to move past this, to find her strength again, and to never let anyone break her the way HYDRA had tried to.

With that thought, Y/N closed her eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos of her mind. The road ahead was uncertain, and the pain was still raw, but she was determined to keep fighting. For herself, for her future, and for the chance to prove that she was more than the sum of her past traumas.

Her closed eyes instantly shot opened when the door of the room opened, and Natasha walked in, clad in her black widow suit. Her expression was a mix of concern and determination. "Y/N, how are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft.

What do you think? She wanted to spat but instead, Y/N sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the floor. She couldn't bring herself to look at Natasha. The betrayal cut too deep, and the words she wanted to say were lodged in her throat.

Natasha took a step closer, her eyes pleading. "Please, Y/N, talk to me."

After a long, tense silence, Y/N finally looked up, her eyes filled with pain and anger. "Why?" she asked, her voice trembling. "How could you do this, Natasha? After everything we've been through, everything you made me believe? Was any of it true?"

Natasha's face crumpled with guilt and sorrow. "I… I didn't want it to happen like this. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Then why?" Y/N demanded, her voice rising. "Why did you lie to me? Why did you pretend to care?"

Natasha struggled to find the right words, but they seemed to elude her. "It was my mission. But that doesn't mean what we had wasn't real. It was real, it was real to me!"

Y/N scoffed, bitterness lacing her voice. "Real? You were sent by someone who wanted me dead! Now tell me, Natasha, did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?"

Natasha's eyes widened, and she shook her head vehemently. "No, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" Y/N's voice was filled with incredulity. "By lying to me? By using me?"

Natasha took a deep breath, her own eyes filling with tears. "I did what I had to do. But my feelings for you were real. They still are."

Y/N's voice was a whisper now, raw with emotion. "I would have died for your sins, Natasha."

The words hung in the air, heavy and damning. Natasha was stunned, her mind racing to process the depth of Y/N's pain.

Y/N continued, her voice breaking. "I loved you, Natasha. Every day, I fell deeper in love with you. And now… now I find out it was all just a goddamn mission to you."

"No," Natasha said quickly, her own heart breaking. "It wasn't just a mission. You mean so much more to me than that."

"But it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden, was it?" Y/N's voice was filled with hurt and sarcasm. "Once the truth was out, it lost its appeal, didn't it?"

Natasha shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No, Y/N. Please, believe me. I… I love you too."

Y/N looked away, the pain too much to bear. "I don't know what to believe anymore. How can I trust you after this? You were the one person I thought I could rely on."

Natasha took a step closer, reaching out to touch Y/N's hand, but Y/N pulled away, the betrayal still too fresh. "I'm sorry, Y/N," Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry."

The room was filled with the sound of their silent tears, the weight of their shared pain too heavy to bear. And in that moment, both of them knew that their lives would never be the same again.

Y/N's heart ached with the weight of her emotions, "I want you to leave, Natasha."

"Y/N, please…"

"I SAID LEAVE!"

Natasha left the room, her heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. She wanted to stay, to explain herself further, but Y/N's shout had left no room for argument. As she stepped into the corridor, the weight of her actions pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside her.

The mission had seemed straightforward at first: locate the escaped HYDRA experiment and bring her in. It should have been simple. But Y/N had become so much more than a mission. She had broken through Natasha's defenses, seen her vulnerabilities, and made her feel things she hadn't thought possible. Y/N had become her person, the one exception in her life of secrecy and deception.

Natasha walked through the sterile halls of the Avengers' facility, each step feeling heavier than the last. She made her way to an empty room, seeking solitude to process everything. She couldn't shake the image of Y/N's face, the pain and betrayal in her eyes. The girl she loved, the one who had seen her at her weakest, was now lost to her.

"Natasha," a voice called softly. She turned to see Steve Rogers standing at the door. His expression was filled with concern.

"Steve, I—" Natasha began, but her voice faltered.

Steve stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I know this isn't easy for you."

Natasha shook her head, tears threatening to spill. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was just a mission, but she became so much more."

Steve nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes, the lines blur. You can't help who you care about."

Natasha sank into a chair, burying her face in her hands. "She hates me now. I don't blame her. I lied to her, used her. How can she ever forgive me?"

Steve placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Give her time. She needs to process everything. And you need to be honest with her, even if it's painful."

Natasha looked up, her eyes filled with anguish. "But what if it's too late? What if I've lost her forever?"

Steve's expression softened. "You haven't lost her. Not yet. But you need to fight for her, Natasha. Show her that your feelings are real, that she's more than a mission to you." squeezing her shoulder softly, he added, "Who you are is not what you did."

Natasha nodded, though uncertainty still clouded her mind. She knew Steve was right, but the path ahead seemed so daunting. She had to find a way to bridge the gap she had created, to make Y/N understand that her love was genuine.

The days that followed were torturous. Natasha threw herself into training and missions, trying to distract herself from the ache in her heart. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape the thoughts of Y/N. Each night, she lay awake, replaying their conversations, the laughter they had shared, and the tender moments that had made her feel alive.

Natasha sat alone in her quarters, staring at the ceiling, trying to wrap her mind around everything that had happened. The sterile, cold walls seemed to close in on her, echoing her isolation and guilt. She had replayed her confrontation with Y/N countless times in her mind, each time feeling the knife of betrayal twist deeper. The mission had been clear-cut, simple even: locate and capture. But then she had met Y/N, and everything had changed.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember the first time she had seen Y/N. It had been a rainy night in a rundown part of the city. Y/N had been fighting off some low-level thugs, her powers crackling around her in a wild display of raw energy. Natasha had been struck by her ferocity, her determination, and the deep sadness that seemed to emanate from her. She had been assigned to neutralize Y/N, but instead, she found herself captivated by her.

Natasha's heart ached as she remembered their first real conversation. It had been awkward, filled with mistrust and guarded words. But over time, they had grown closer. Y/N had slowly let her guard down, allowing Natasha glimpses into her world, her pain, and her struggles. They had trained together, laughed together, and shared stories that had created a bond Natasha had never expected.

But now, all of that was shattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Weeks passed and Natasha still feel the weight of her poor decisions pressing down on her like a heavy, unyielding burden. The guilt gnawed at her constantly, making it hard to focus on anything else. She had tried to compartmentalize, to push the feelings aside, but they refused to be ignored.

Because now, her person— Y/N— was filled with anger and betrayal, emotions that Natasha herself had caused. Every time she saw Y/N's face, the pain was still evident, a constant reminder of the trust she had shattered. Natasha had made a series of poor decisions, each one leading them to this moment of intense suffering.

In the quiet moments, when she was alone with her thoughts, Natasha's mind would wander to a life that seemed like a distant dream— a normal life with Y/N. She imagined lazy mornings in bed, laughing over shared breakfasts, evenings spent watching the sunset, and a future filled with love and happiness. But those dreams felt like they were slipping further and further out of reach.

She often found herself in a spiral of doubt and regret. Was what she did worth it? Was there any way to redeem herself in Y/N's eyes? The questions were relentless, and the answers were elusive. Y/N had become her everything, the one person who had seen the real Natasha and still loved her. And now, that love seemed impossible to salvage.

Natasha's thoughts often turned dark, filled with self-loathing and despair. It was a losing battle in her mind. On one hand, she was a hero, an Avenger dedicated to protecting the world. On the other hand, Y/N saw her as a villain, a betrayer who had shattered their trust. The dichotomy was tearing her apart, and she didn't know how to reconcile the two.

Everywhere Natasha turned, she was haunted by the decisions that led her to this point. She recalled the moment she first saw Y/N's file, the cold detachment she felt as she read about the mission's objectives. Y/N was just another target then, another task to be completed. But then the mission parameters blurred, and Natasha found herself drawn to Y/N in ways she hadn't anticipated.

She was not even supposed to tell and share stories, let alone her past life when she was still under Red Room.

But Y/N's strength, resilience, and vulnerability captivated Natasha, breaking through her professional detachment. She remembered the first time she saw Y/N laugh— a genuine, carefree laugh that lit up her entire face. Natasha had felt something stir within her, something she hadn't felt in her entire life: hope. Hope that there was more to life than missions and deception. Hope that she could find redemption through love.

But now, that hope felt like a cruel joke. Natasha was left to grapple with the reality of her actions. She had deceived Y/N, played with her emotions, and shattered her trust. The look of betrayal on Y/N's face was seared into Natasha's memory, a constant reminder of her failure. It haunted her dreams, turning them into nightmares where Y/N's eyes bore into her with unspoken accusations.

Natasha tried to lose herself in her work, but it was no use. Every mission, every fight, felt hollow without Y/N by her side. She replayed their last conversation over and over in her mind, dissecting every word, every gesture, searching for a way she could have handled things differently. If only she had been honest from the beginning. If only she had found a way to protect Y/N without betraying her trust.

The guilt was relentless, gnawing at her insides. Natasha found herself questioning her very identity. Who was she if she could betray the one person who meant the most to her? Could she still call herself a hero? The lines between right and wrong had become so blurred, and Natasha felt like she was losing herself in the murkiness.

She sought solace in her training, pushing her body to its limits in an attempt to silence her mind. But no amount of physical exertion could quiet the storm of emotions raging within her. Each punch, each kick, was a futile attempt to fight against the guilt and regret that consumed her.

In her quieter moments, Natasha allowed herself to imagine a different reality, one where she and Y/N were living a peaceful life together. She envisioned a small, cozy home, filled with warmth and laughter. She saw herself waking up next to Y/N, their fingers intertwined, the morning light casting a gentle glow on their faces. She imagined sharing quiet moments, stolen kisses, and whispered promises. But as beautiful as these fantasies were, they were also a painful reminder of what she had lost.

Natasha's mind was a battlefield, torn between the desire to make things right and the fear that it was too late. She replayed every interaction with Y/N, every smile, every touch, trying to decipher where she went wrong. She questioned her own worthiness, wondering if she deserved forgiveness, if she deserved Y/N's love.

Her nights were the hardest. Alone in her room, Natasha would lie awake, her mind racing with thoughts of Y/N. She would reach out to the empty space beside her, imagining that Y/N was there, her presence a comforting balm to Natasha's troubled soul. But the emptiness only served to deepen her sense of loss and regret.

Natasha's heart ached with a longing she couldn't quell. She wanted to reach out to Y/N, to beg for her forgiveness, to prove that her love was real. But she was paralyzed by fear— fear of rejection, fear of causing more pain, fear of facing the truth of her actions. The vulnerability that Y/N had awakened within her was both a gift and a curse, leaving Natasha exposed and raw.

In her moments of despair, Natasha would recall Steve's words: "Who you are is not what you did." But it was hard to believe those words when the evidence of her betrayal was so clear. She had hurt Y/N. The guilt was suffocating, a constant reminder of her failure.

Natasha's mind would drift back to their time together, to the small, intimate moments that had defined their relationship. She remembered the way Y/N's eyes would light up when she talked about her dreams, the softness in her voice when she whispered Natasha's name. She remembered the warmth of Y/N's touch, the comfort of her embrace, the way she made Natasha feel like she was worth something, like she was more than just a weapon.

But now, all of that felt like a distant memory, a beautiful dream that had turned into a nightmare. Natasha was left to grapple with the reality of her actions, with the knowledge that she had destroyed the one good thing in her life. The weight of her choices was crushing, leaving her feeling hollow and lost.

In her darkest moments, Natasha would wonder if it was too late to make things right. She questioned whether Y/N could ever forgive her, whether there was any hope of salvaging their relationship. But despite the overwhelming doubt, there was a small, stubborn part of Natasha that refused to give up. She clung to the hope that, somehow, she could find a way to prove her love, to show Y/N that she was more than her mistakes.

Natasha knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult. She would have to face her own demons, confront the parts of herself she had kept hidden for so long. She would have to earn Y/N's trust, step by painful step, proving that her love was real and unwavering. It was a daunting task, but Natasha was determined to try.

As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Natasha made a silent vow to herself. She would do whatever it took to make things right with Y/N. She would fight for their love, for the future she had once dreamed of. It wouldn't be easy, and it might take a lifetime, but Natasha was willing to give it her all.

With that thought, Natasha finally felt a small sense of peace. The guilt and regret were still there, but they were tempered by a newfound determination. She would prove to Y/N that their love was worth fighting for, that she was worth fighting for. And maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the window, Natasha sighed and stood up, pacing the small room. She knew she had to try to explain everything to Y/N, even if it seemed impossible. She couldn't just leave things as they were. She owed Y/N the truth, even if it hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Natasha left her quarters and walked towards Y/N's room. The halls were quiet, the soft hum of the facility's systems the only sound. As she approached the door, her heart pounded in her chest. She hesitated for a moment before knocking softly and entering.

Y/N was sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes red from crying. She looked up as Natasha entered, her expression guarded. The sight of Y/N in such pain made Natasha's heart ache even more.

"Y/N," Natasha began, her voice trembling. "I know you don't want to see me right now, but I need to explain."

Y/N's gaze was cold. "Explain what? How you lied to me? How I was just a mission to you?"

Natasha shook her head, tears welling up. "No, Y/N. You were never just a mission. Not to me. Let me tell you everything, from the beginning."

Y/N crossed her arms, clearly skeptical but willing to listen. "Go on then."

Natasha took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "When I first found out about you, I was assigned to the mission. It was supposed to be simple— locate you and bring you in. But from the moment I saw you, I knew it wasn't going to be that straightforward. You were different. You were fighting off those thugs with such determination, and I saw something in you that I couldn't ignore."

Y/N's eyes softened slightly, but she remained silent, letting Natasha continue.

"I watched you for a while, trying to understand you," Natasha said, her voice filled with regret. "I saw the pain you were in, the loneliness. I couldn't just complete the mission and hand you over to people who would hurt you. So I made a decision. I approached you, and I tried to get to know you. And the more I got to know you, the more I realized how special you were."

Y/N's eyes filled with tears, but she still didn't speak.

Natasha took a step closer, her voice pleading. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. My feelings for you are real, Y/N. They always have been. I love you." Natasha continued to confess her feelings, her voice raw with emotion. "Y/N, I know I hurt you. I know what I did was unforgivable. But please, believe me."

Y/N finally spoke, her voice trembling with emotion. "How can I believe you, Natasha? After all the things you did?" Y/N's eyes blazing with anger. "Is this the goal, Natasha? Breaking me? Rusting me?"

"No," Natasha answered quickly, shaking her head. "No, that's not it at all. Let me explain everything." Natasha felt a lump in her throat. "I know I've given you every reason not to trust me, but I'm begging you to believe me. I couldn't just let you die, especially not at HYDRA's hands. They're still after you."

Y/N's voice was filled with bitterness. "I just died inside. And it's because of you, Natasha. You killed me, you sleeper cell spy."

Natasha flinched at the harsh words, feeling the weight of her guilt. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted any of this to happen. If I could go back, I would change everything. I'd never do this to you and… and I'm not what I did. Believe me."

Y/N's laugh was cold and sarcastic. "You are what you did, Natasha."

The words echoed in Natasha's mind, clashing with Steve's voice reminding her that who she is isn't defined by what she did. But Y/N's words felt truer in this moment, cutting deeper than any physical wound.

"I'll forget you, Natasha, someday," Y/N said, her voice chillingly calm. "But I'll never forgive."

Natasha's heart shattered at those words. She had known that repairing their relationship would be difficult, but hearing Y/N's definitive statement felt like a death sentence to her hopes.

Y/N continued, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "You're the smallest woman who ever lived."

Natasha stood there, speechless, the weight of Y/N's words pressing down on her like a physical burden. She wanted to fight back, to prove her love and remorse, but the pain in Y/N's eyes told her that it's a bit too late.

three days in the making!! ( became four since i added a few things today, lol ) how was it? was it worth it? i think so. i love tsmwel soooo much!! been playing it over and over and over again. i mean, isn't it obvious? ( 9.361k words… ) let me know what you think and enjoy reading!

if i said best ttpd song, you say what??

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gay-dorito-dust · 9 months

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Capture the flag was coming up and your cabin was next to participate alongside the formidable Hermes cabin, but instead of being overjoyed at the opportunity to finally bring glory to your cabin like the rest of your siblings, you were off sulking elsewhere and busying yourself by plucking one blade of grass at a time; unaware that someone had notice your absense and decided to follow after.

‘Hey stranger.’ A voice came from beside said, making you flinch, only to relax when you saw that it was only Luke. ‘Why so sad, you normally love capture the flag.’ He adds, nudging your arm playfully as he flashed you a charming smile.

‘Yeah but after a string of repeat losses, you naturally begin to resent the game you once loved.’ You replied. There was no point denying the obvious fact that you cabin never had the best of luck when it came to capture the flag, it had always been that way even before you first arrived at camp, but at the time all you truly cared about was getting claimed by your godly parent.

You had only started truly resenting capture the flag after your second or third loss by the Ares cabin. Ever since then you hated the game because each time it ended the same, with your cabin loosing while the opposing cabin mocking you by rubbing their victory in your faces. Luke, much like everyone else, was well aware of this but didn’t feel it was necessary to keep bringing it up, especially not when he was trying to cheer you up somewhat and would try to divulge your attention elsewhere instead.

‘Well nows the chance to change all that.‘ he began. ‘To bring triumph to your cabin and be the one to revel in victory for once.’

You scoffed. ‘Yeah because we’ve had the great Luke Castellan, best swordsman in camp half blood, carry us on his back to our first ever win.’ You said bitterly, looking anywhere else than the boy with the dark, kind eyes. ‘What a joke.’

‘That’s not true.’ Luke tried to argue.

‘Yeah it is, you don’t need to lie in order to save my feelings Luke, I’m not stupid and neither is my cabin, why do you think we look our most happiest when any other cabin that’s not ours is up to play?’ You asked rhetorically, knowing that he very well knew the reason why. Luke, not wanting to wave the white flag of surrender then said, ‘even if that maybe the truth then they’ll also have to recognise that out of your entire cabin, you are the most determined and hardworking even in the most dire of circumstances.’ You could only look at him with an unreadable expression as Luke continued his speech.

‘Even when you know you’ve already lost, you still give it your all to make even the slightest bit of change. If it was anybody else, they would just give up but not you, not my y/n.’ Luke said fondly as he clasped one of his hands with your own, smiling softly when you squeezed his hand. ‘You’re too stubborn to accept defeat unless all other options were exhausted. An admirable trait to have if you ask me.’ You chuckled, feeling somewhat better from his words, not entirely but it was better than sulking the rest of the night and well into the next morning.

‘Some people would call that desperation to win.’ You told him as he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Then they’ve obviously never had to fight for something they always wanted but could never have.’ He replied oddly serious, looking at you intently as he said those words; which made you wonder if you were still talking about the same thing. ‘What do you mean by that-‘ before you could finish, Luke stood up abruptly, pulling you up with him as a result of your hands still being firmly clasped with one another. ‘Give me a warning before you pull that shit again, yeah?’ You said, smacking his arm lightly, causing him to laugh.

‘I’ll take that into consideration for next time, but we should probably try and get as much sleep as we can so we don’t look like the walking dead before the game even begins.’ He playfully chided and it felt more of an excuse as to avoid having a deeper conversation about something, but you were already staring to feel the effects from that mornings activities beginning to weigh on you as you tried to bite back a yawn.

‘I second that decision.’ You said, tugging your hand from his own, feeling Luke’s hesitance in letting go and thinking nothing of it other than something your mind made up as you began to depart for your cabin. ‘I shall see you bright and early tomorrow, will I?’ You questioned.

‘Yes but you better not try and wake me up earlier than necessary like last time.’ Luke replied as you made a face. ‘Me? Prank you? I would never.’ You said dramatically at the accusation being thrown your way, seeing you get back to your old self was enough to reassure Luke that you’d be more then ready for tomorrow as he crossed his arms over his chest, brow raised as he smirked. ‘Oh yeah? How do I know you and the Stoll brothers haven’t done something to my bed back at the Hermes cabin, hmmm?’

‘You’ll just have to take my word for it that I don’t have any connections in any one of their pranks that may happen tomorrow, and if they tell you otherwise, they’re dead wrong.’ You said before disappearing up the trail towards your cabin, leaving Luke to watch on as he chuckles to himself. ‘Guess we’ll have to wait and see.’

#pjo x reader #pjo imagines #pjo imagine #pjo fanfic #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo series #pjo tv show

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kajibunny · 3 months

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⋆⁺˖♧° let's play ‪♡ (jo togame x reader) ⟡₊♢⊹

✿ summary: it's a fact that jo togame likes to play. you decide that you want to play with him, too. will one match of shogi and a bet lead to your endgame? ✿ contains: mutual pining, super suggestive, lots of sexual tension, he calls you 'kitten' ✿ a/n: this idea just popped into my head randomly while browsing the wb character facts that says togame plays go and shogi and i had to write it! at first it was supposed to be cute and fun, but then it ended up becoming kind of spicy too lol (⸝⸝⸝- ᴗ -⸝⸝⸝ ;) i dedicate this to @togament, come play with your man asjdnjsnsk and for all you togame lovers out there, hope you enjoy! ♡ ✿ wc: 1k

jo togame had quite the competitive streak when it came to strategy games like go and shogi. playing often cleared his mind, and he's acquired tons of practice by having recreational matches with his elder friends at the local public bath house.

he noticed you from across the room, eyeing his earlier game in the common area, as it piqued your interest. (well, that, and he also piqued your interest.) it was refreshing for you to see such a handsome young man playing shogi with the elders and looking like he had the time of his life as he did.

togame made his way over to you after his game ended, and asked you if you wanted to play a round with him too.

"are you sure? i'm quite good at shogi, you know." you asserted, and he chuckled a bit at your claims. "oh yeah? then show me."

"let's play then." you said as you sat down across from him, the board positioned in front of the both of you.

he liked a challenge, especially if that so-called challenge was from someone as cute as you, your arms crossed trying to look intimidating, but you were no more intimidating than a little bunny. togame found you so adorable.

"hm? how about we raise the stakes, loser fulfills the winner's wish." he said with a calm tone, as if he knew he was going to win.

"okay, you're on. i guess i'll start thinking of my wish now." confident that you weren't going to lose either, as you had watched his previous game, and had an idea of how he played.

"i won't go easy on you, kitten." he had a small glint presenting itself in his mesmerizing green eyes.

"it's fine, i can take it." you assured him, not taking your eyes off his, even for a second.

your shogi game with togame lasted for almost an hour, proving himself to to be a formidable opponent.

it also didn't help that he was just too attractive for his own good that you couldn't maintain your concentration, and it pulled your focus away from the game whenever you caught yourself absentmindly staring and admiring his hazy eyes laced with thick eyelashes, the prominent veins in his big, calloused hands as he moved the piece, the same hands than ran itself through his tousled black hair whenever he was deep in thought about his next move, and when he looked at you with half-lidded eyes awaiting your turn, it just became too much for you to handle.

you were in such close proximity to him too, the only thing standing in the way of both of you was that damn shogi board.

once he had occupied your whole territory with his pieces, you knew you were done for. you thought you had no weaknesses, but it turns out that you had one, and it was jo togame.

"checkmate, kitten."

it was over, his king had captured yours, and you had no chance of escaping. how is this possible? you were so sure of yourself, but togame pulled up some tactics that you had never before seen in the history of shogi.

you definitely hadn't seen it coming. togame's moves were just too unpredictable. nonetheless, you blamed yourself inwardly for being so distracted by him during the match.

afterwards, you two talked for a bit more as you thanked him for the match and helped each other pack up, your hands occassionally grazing and lightly touching his as you two arranged the shogi pieces.

"okay, since you won, tell me what you wish for." you turned to him. you felt a warmth creeping up on your cheeks as he mischievously smiled, his hand motioning you to come closer to him so he could tell you.

togame whispers in your ear, and you could feel his warm breath tickling your face. "i want you. you're what i wish for. let me know if you want to fulfill it." togame is a simple, straightforward man. if he puts his mind to something, he does everything he can to make sure he gets what he wants.

and oh god, did you want him too.

it all escalated way too quickly from there. it wasn't just a game anymore, it was reality. you weren't exactly sure how it happened but, in an instant, you two were all over each other, kissing unabashedly, tongues fighting for dominance as if all that built up tension from competing with each other translated into your mouths and hands.

"i-ah, i was going to wish for the same thing too, by the way." you murmured in between his lips. "let's grant your wish too, shall we?" he softly backs you onto the wall, pinning your wrist against it with his hand, as he continues kissing you, controlling the pace this time, his mouth dominating yours completely.

he tasted so good, a hint of lemon flavored ramune on his lips. you couldn't stop, he was like a magnet, the attraction between both of you way too strong that you couldn't separate yourself and your body from his. you felt like your make out session with togame lasted even longer than the shogi game you had played with him.

you knew togame liked to play to win, but that night, you felt like you had won too, and you were certain that your match with him had actually ended in a draw.

but you couldn't settle for just a draw, you were way too competitive for that. there was no way you'd let him leave with the satisfaction, in fact, you were going to show togame how ready you were to have another round with him.

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #togame x reader #togame jo x reader #jo togame #togame #wind breaker (satoru nii)#nii satoru #windbreaker #wind breaker fic #wind breaker scenarios #wind breaker x you #wind breaker imagines #togame fic #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker anime #shishitoren x reader #wind breaker x reader fic

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todorokis-girl · 4 months

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On a collision course - Tsukishima Kei x f!Reader

I read a post a while ago and this was the line that caugh my attention: "Well have you considered that maybe the unstoppable force is in love with the immovable object; maybe the reason one refuses to move is because they both long for the collision"

masterlist

The sound of volleyballs hitting the gym floor echoed through Karasuno High School's gymnasium. The boys' volleyball team was practicing, and as usual, Tsukishima Kei was giving it his all, even if his aloof expression didn't show it. His tall frame and impressive blocking skills made him a formidable player on the court, but his sharp tongue and condescending attitude often rubbed people the wrong way.

Y/N, the team's manager, had known Tsukishima since middle school. They had never gotten along. While Y/N was outgoing and passionate, Tsukishima was reserved and indifferent. Their clashes were legendary, and their mutual disdain was well-known among their friends. Y/N believed in encouragement and support, while Tsukishima believed in brutal honesty and criticism.

Today was no different.

"Tsukishima, your timing was off on that last block," Y/N called out, her voice clear and authoritative.

Tsukishima shot her a withering look. "Maybe if you knew anything about volleyball, you'd realize it was a feint. But thanks for your insightful commentary, manager."

Y/N felt her face heat up. "I'm just trying to help. It's not my fault if you're too stubborn to listen."

The tension between them was palpable, and their teammates exchanged wary glances. This was a regular occurrence, and they had learned to stay out of it.

As practice ended, Y/N stayed behind to clean up. She liked the quiet of the gym when everyone else had left. It gave her a chance to think and unwind. She was wiping down the benches when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Tsukishima, his face unreadable.

"Forgot my water bottle," he said curtly, grabbing it from the bench.

Y/N nodded, not wanting to engage further. But as he turned to leave, she couldn't help herself. "You know, just because we don't agree on everything doesn't mean you have to be such a jerk."

Tsukishima stopped and turned back to her, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "And just because you think you're always right doesn't mean you are."

Y/N sighed, feeling the familiar frustration bubble up. "Why do you always have to be so difficult?"

"Why do you always have to be so naive?" he shot back. "This isn't some feel-good story where everyone holds hands and sings Kumbaya. This is volleyball. It's about winning."

Y/N stared at him, her anger giving way to something else. "Maybe it's not just about winning, Tsukishima. Maybe it's also about working together, about being a team."

For a moment, Tsukishima didn't respond. He just looked at her, his eyes searching hers. Then he shook his head. "Whatever. Believe what you want."

As he walked away, Y/N felt a pang of sadness. She didn't understand why he had to be so cold, why he pushed everyone away. She wanted to help him, to break through that wall he had built around himself. But she didn't know how.

Days turned into weeks, and the animosity between Y/N and Tsukishima continued. Yet, something had changed. Their arguments were still frequent, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, Y/N found herself alone in the gym once more. She was lost in thought when she heard the door open and close. Expecting it to be one of the players, she was surprised to see Tsukishima.

"Hey," he said, his tone unusually soft.

Y/N looked up, her heart skipping a beat. "Hey."

There was an awkward silence before Tsukishima spoke again. "I… I wanted to apologize. For earlier. And for… everything."

Y/N blinked, taken aback. "What brought this on?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking. Maybe you're right. Maybe I am too stubborn. And maybe… maybe I push people away because I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Y/N asked, her voice gentle.

"Of getting close to people. Of getting hurt," he admitted, his eyes downcast.

Y/N's heart ached at his vulnerability. She took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "You don't have to be afraid, Tsukishima. You have people who care about you. And… I care about you too."

He looked up, his eyes searching hers. "You do?"

She nodded, her hand still on his arm. "I do."

For a moment, they just stood there, the air between them charged with emotion. Then, slowly, Tsukishima reached out and pulled her into a hug. It was tentative at first, but as Y/N wrapped her arms around him, he held her tighter.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"It's okay," she whispered back. "We're in this together."

The change in their relationship was gradual but undeniable. They still bickered, but there was a warmth now, a connection that hadn't been there before. They learned to trust each other, to support each other, and in the process, they grew closer.

One evening, after a long day of practice and homework, Y/N and Tsukishima found themselves walking home together. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the town. They walked in comfortable silence, their hands brushing occasionally.

"Do you remember what you said to me in the gym that day?" Tsukishima asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Y/N looked at him, puzzled. "Which part?"

"The part about working together, about being a team," he said, his voice soft.

She nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

He stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression serious. "I think… I think that's when I realized I was falling for you."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

He nodded, taking her hands in his. "Yeah. I know I've been difficult, and I've said things I shouldn't have. But the truth is, I've never felt this way about anyone before. You're the unstoppable force, and I'm the immovable object. And maybe… maybe the reason I refused to move was because I longed for the collision."

Y/N felt tears prick her eyes as she smiled. "You know, for someone who doesn't talk about their feelings much, you sure know how to say the right thing."

He chuckled, pulling her closer. "Well, I had a good teacher."

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "So, what now?"

"Now," he said, leaning in to kiss her softly, "we see where this collision takes us."

As their lips met, Y/N felt a surge of happiness. She had always believed in the power of working together, of being a team. And now, with Tsukishima by her side, she knew they could face anything.

Together, they were unstoppable.

The days that followed were filled with a newfound sense of camaraderie and affection. Tsukishima, despite his initial reluctance, began to open up more, not just to Y/N but to the entire team. His sharp remarks became less frequent, replaced by genuine contributions and encouragement. The team noticed the change, and their performance on the court improved as a result.

One day, after practice, the team gathered in the locker room. Hinata, ever the curious one, finally voiced what everyone had been wondering.

"Hey, Tsukishima, Y/N," he began, a mischievous grin on his face. "What's going on with you two? You've been acting... different."

Kageyama nodded in agreement, adding, "Yeah, it's like you two are getting along or something."

The rest of the team murmured their agreement, all eyes on Tsukishima and Y/N. Tsukishima glanced at Y/N, who gave him an encouraging smile.

Taking a deep breath, Tsukishima decided to be honest. "Well, we had a bit of a... breakthrough. We've realized that we work better together rather than against each other."

Hinata's eyes widened in excitement. "Does that mean you two are...?"

Y/N laughed, cutting him off before he could finish. "Yes, Hinata, we're together."

The team erupted in cheers and playful teasing. Nishinoya and Tanaka gave Tsukishima exaggerated thumbs-ups, while Suga and Daichi offered genuine congratulations. Even Kageyama managed a rare smile.

As the team settled down, Tsukishima felt a sense of relief. It felt good to have their support and understanding. He turned to Y/N, who was beaming at him.

"Looks like they approve," she said softly.

"Looks like it," he agreed, squeezing her hand.

Y/N and Tsukishima found solace in each other. They spent their free time studying, hanging out, and sometimes just enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence. The more they learned about each other, the stronger their bond grew.

One evening, after a particularly tough practice session, the team gathered for a casual dinner at a local diner. As they laughed and shared stories, Y/N couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. She glanced at Tsukishima, who was sitting across from her, engaged in a rare, light-hearted conversation with Hinata and Kageyama.

As if sensing her gaze, Tsukishima looked up and met her eyes. He gave her a small, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. In that moment, she knew that the collision they had both longed for had transformed them in ways they hadn't expected.

After dinner, Tsukishima offered to walk Y/N home. The night was cool, and the stars twinkled above them as they strolled through the quiet streets. Y/N leaned into his side, enjoying the warmth of his presence.

"Thank you," Tsukishima said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Y/N looked up at him, puzzled. "For what?"

"For pushing me," he replied. "For believing in me even when I didn't deserve it. You've changed me, Y/N. You've made me want to be a better person."

She smiled, feeling a swell of affection for the boy who had once been her enemy. "And thank you for letting me in. For trusting me. I wouldn't change a thing."

They walked in silence for a while longer, lost in their thoughts. When they reached Y/N's house, Tsukishima hesitated before speaking again.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, his tone uncharacteristically shy.

"Of course," Y/N replied, curious.

"Do you think… do you think this is real? What we have?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.

Y/N took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I think it's as real as it gets, Tsukishima. We're not perfect, but we're perfect for each other. And that's what matters."

Relief washed over his face, and he leaned down to kiss her. It was a kiss filled with promise and hope, a symbol of the journey they had taken together.

As they pulled apart, Y/N smiled up at him. "We're unstoppable

, remember?"

He chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, we are."

They said their goodbyes, and as Y/N watched him walk away, she couldn't help but feel excited for the future. They had faced their fears and doubts, and now they were stronger for it. Together, they were ready to take on whatever challenges came their way.

And so, the unstoppable force and the immovable object continued their collision course, hand in hand, ready for whatever the world had in store for them.

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eveninggstar · 5 months

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teammates and tensions ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Rivalry Rekindled-rewrite

max verstappen x RedBullDriver!reader

06.05.24-(rewrite 17.07.24)

୨ৎ back a page ୨ৎ back two pages ୨ৎ back three pages

୨ৎ From the age of 9, you and Max Verstappen have been locked in fierce competition on the racing track. Growing up, you intimately learned each other’s techniques, paving the way for what could have been a formidable partnership. However, despite your shared prowess, there’s one glaring issue - an unyielding disdain for each other. As you navigate the world of motorsport, your rivalry intensifies, fuelling both your desire for victory and your deep-seated animosity towards one another.

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The sun blazes down on the karting track, the summer heat of 2006 creating shimmering waves off the tarmac. It's a big day for the young racers, all eager to prove their mettle. Among them is you, the only girl in the pack, your determined eyes hidden behind your helmet as you grip the steering wheel.

You started in 9th position, but you're not about to let that deter you. With every lap, you skilfully manoeuvre your way past your competitors, your kart whizzing by in a blur of colour and speed. Your mind is focused, every muscle in your body taut with concentration. You're gaining on the leader, who has held the top position from the start.

The boy in front is driving precisely and aggressively, maintaining his lead with practiced ease. He seems almost untouchable, his kart weaving through the course. But you've been watching him, studying his moves, and you see your chance.

On the penultimate lap, you make your move. As you approach a tight corner, you accelerate, your kart surging forward. You take the inside line, your kart brushing dangerously close to the leader's. For a moment, you're side by side, wheels almost touching. Then, with a burst of speed, you overtake him, leaving him momentarily stunned.

The crowd erupts in cheers as you cross the finish line in first place, your heart pounding with exhilaration. You remove your helmet, your face flushed with triumph, your eyes scanning the spectators for your dad. But before you can find him, you turn to see the boy stepping out of his kart, his expression a mixture of frustration and awe.

Gathering your courage, you approach him, your smile bright. "Hey, that was a great race," you say, extending your hand. "What's your name?"

Before he can respond, a tall figure appears behind him, his presence imposing. "Max," says Jos Verstappen, his voice firm as he places a hand on his son's shoulder. He gives you a cursory glance before steering Max away. The young boy looks back at you, a mixture of curiosity and something else in his eyes.

You watch them go, feeling a pang of disappointment. Your moment of connection with a fellow racer has been abruptly cut short. Turning away, you spot your dad near the pits, his arms crossed, his expression stern.

You approach him, your steps slowing as you see the look on his face. "Dad, did you see? I won!" you say, jumping up and down with the first-place trophy, hoping to see some glimmer of pride in his eyes.

He nods, but his face remains impassive. "You only won by a few seconds," he says, his tone cool. "You need to focus more. And stop being so friendly with the competition. This isn't about making friends. It's about winning."

Your heart sinks, the thrill of victory dimming in the shadow of his words. You bite your lip and nod, the joy of the race slipping away. You glance back once more at Max, now standing with his father seemingly getting the same reprimand you're receiving, and feel a flicker of connection with someone who understands you.

A year has passed, and you find yourself once again on the karting circuit, facing Max in race after race. During one particularly intense competition, you finish second to his first. Determined to congratulate him, you approach him in the paddock.

"Nice job out there, Max," you say, hoping for at least a nod of acknowledgment.

Max looks at you briefly, his expression unreadable, before turning away without a word. His silence stings, but you grit your teeth and tell yourself it's just part of racing.

Another year, another season of karting. You've gotten used to Max's aloof demeanour, but it doesn't make it any easier. After a close race where you managed to clinch third place behind Max's second, you find yourself next to him in the waiting area.

"Hey, Max," you try again, "that was a tight race, huh?"

Max doesn't even look at you this time. He simply walks away, leaving you standing there, feeling invisible. The frustration begins to build, but you channel it into your racing, determined to prove yourself on the track.

By 2009, the tension between you and Max has reached a boiling point. During a particularly heated race, you and Max battle fiercely for the lead. You manage to edge him out, taking first place. As you exit your kart, you catch Max's glare from across the paddock.

"You got lucky," he mutters as he walks past you.

You feel your face flush with anger. "It wasn't luck, Max. It was skill," you retort, but he's already turned his back on you, dismissing your victory as a fluke.

The karting circuit is abuzz with excitement, the races becoming more competitive each year. You and Max have developed a well-known rivalry. After yet another intense race where you finish just behind him, you decide to confront him directly.

"Max, why do you always ignore me?" you demand, frustration boiling over. "What’s your problem?"

Max smirks, his eyes cold. "Maybe I just don't think you're worth my time," he says, his words cutting deeper than any physical blow.

The 2011 season is gruelling, and your rivalry with Max has only intensified. After a race where you both crash out due to aggressive driving, you find yourself next to him once more, adrenaline still pumping.

"Maybe if you weren't so reckless, we wouldn't have crashed," you snap, unable to hold back your anger.

Max scoffs, his disdain palpable. "Maybe if you were a better driver, you wouldn't need to blame others for your mistakes," he retorts before walking away.

As you watch him go, your hands clench into fists. Any hope of friendship or mutual respect has long since evaporated, replaced by a burning desire to beat him at his own game. Max Verstappen has solidified his place not just as a rival, but as the embodiment of everything you strive to overcome.

The Bahrain night sky glows under the floodlights, casting a dramatic backdrop for the opening race of the 2023 Formula 1 season. The tension in the air is almost tangible as you grip the steering wheel of your Red Bull RB19, your eyes locked on the car ahead of you—Max Verstappen, your teammate and long-time rival. P2 is your current position, but your sights are set on P1.

"You're in P2, but you have the pace to overtake Max," your race engineer's voice crackles over the team radio. "You've got the green light to go for it."

Your heart pounds with adrenaline as you push your car to its limits, each lap bringing you closer to Max. The rivalry that began in karting has only intensified over the years, now culminating in the highest echelon of motorsport. Every manoeuvre, every turn, every fraction of a second matters.

With ten laps to go, you see your opportunity. Max goes slightly wide on Turn 10, creating a narrow window. You dive to the inside, your car edging ahead. For a moment, your wheels are side by side, but your determination prevails, and you take the lead.

"Nice move! You're P1," your engineer's voice fills your helmet, but the thrill of victory is short-lived. You know Max won't let this stand.

Max is relentless, his car looming in your mirrors, his aggression unmistakable. The final laps are a blur of speed, your entire focus on keeping him behind you. The finish line draws closer, the tension mounting with every turn.

As you enter the last lap, Max makes his move. He darts to the inside on the main straight, attempting a dangerous overtake. You defend your position, but it's too late. Max's car makes contact with yours, the impact sending you spinning towards the barriers.

Time slows as you collide with the barriers, the force of the crash rattling your entire body. You see Max's car careening into the opposite barriers, both of your races ending in a cloud of debris and shattered carbon fibre.

Your car comes to a halt, the world outside a chaotic blur. You hear the crackling of the radio, your engineer's voice filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you manage to reply, your body aching and breathing heavy. "What about Max?"

"He's out of the car. Medics are on the way."

Relief mixes with anger and frustration. The crash was reckless, unnecessary. You unbuckle and climb out of the car, the lights and noise of the circuit overwhelming. Marshals and the medical team rush to your side, but your eyes are fixed on Max, who’s already out of his car, looking livid.

After the medics check you over, you approach Max, your temper flaring. "What the hell was that?" you shout, ignoring the pain.

Max glares at you, his face flushed with anger. "Me? You closed the door on me! What did you expect?"

"You were too aggressive! That was a stupid move, and you know it," you retort, stepping closer.

The team intervenes, trying to keep you both apart, but the damage is done. The frustration and years of rivalry boil over in a heated exchange of accusations and blame.

"Maybe if you learned to race properly, this wouldn't have happened," Max snaps, his eyes blazing.

"Race properly? Coming from you? That's rich," you fire back, your voice trembling with fury.

The team members looked on in dismay, torn between loyalty to their drivers and the desire to maintain peace within the team. Both drivers’ eyes burning against the other. Team principal Christian Horner stepped forward, his expression grave as he addressed the warring drivers.

“Enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “We’re a team, and we need to act like one. This blame game isn’t getting us anywhere.” He looked at the pair. “You’re both brilliant drivers, and we are glad to have you on the team. But this is getting old.”

As you stormed off in opposite directions, your relationship strained to the breaking point, leaving your teammates to pick up the pieces and salvage what they could of their championship hopes.

After the first race of the season, Christian realised that the rift between you and Max needed to be solved. You and Max were summoned to the office, each unaware of the other's presence. Christian had emphasized that this meeting was crucial and could not be missed. As you both approached the office, neither of you spotted the other, freezing at the sight of each other. Quickly breaking out of the initial shock, you gently pushed past Max to open the door.

“Excuse me!” He exclaimed, holding his arms out.

“Excuse me!” You childishly mocked, making your voice scratchy and reminiscent of a witch's. You smirked to yourself as you dropped carelessly into the seat on the left side of Christian’s desk. Looking up at him, you saw him rubbing his brow bone in annoyance.

“Enough is enough,” he declared, his voice firm after Max sat down. “The constant bickering and clashes between you two are threatening the harmony of the team. We can’t afford to let personal animosities interfere with our performance on the track.” He glanced between the two of you. “You’re both twenty-five for god's sake!”

You attempted to speak, realizing your twenty-fifth birthday was approaching in a few months, but Christian interrupted, “Not now, y/n.” You looked down, pushing your lips out awkwardly. “You don’t need to be so pedantic all the time.” Max took the initiative to remain silent.

“If you two can’t find a way to resolve your differences and work together as teammates, then I’m afraid we will have no choice but to consider other options.” Max was looking around the room, while you were picking at your nails. “Do you have any idea how many people dream of being in your positions? You’re acting like children.” His voice grew louder, and his face redder.

The sobering thought of being easily replaced in a championship-winning team weighed heavily.

Christian leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “I have come to the conclusion that for the two of you to get along better, you need to spend more time together.” This sparked outrage between the two of you. “Calm down!” Christian raised his hands. “It’s only during races. As for hotel situations, you two will be sharing a room.”

“What?”

“So, we get no privacy?”

Christian rolled his eyes. He could sense the tension was still high, even see it. Rolling his eyes, he finalized his statement, “All of the plans will be made for next season. So, enjoy the free time until then. Maybe get to know each other more.” You and Max rolled your eyes in sync, crossing your arms. Christian looked at the pair of you, incredulously.

“I’ll see the pair of you soon.” He waved his hands, silently motioning you out of his office. Walking to the door with you, he paused as the pair of you were about to exit his office. “Just be happy we didn’t choose the other option.”

“What’s that?” You turned, standing between the two men.

“Dating for a PR stunt, regardless of what you had to say.” He closed the door in your face.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

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𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

#max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #red bull racing #red bull f1 #RedBullDriver!reader #mad max #Teammates and Tensions💌

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honorarysimp · 12 days

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Chapter 8: Nobody’s Soldier

series masterlist

All is fair in love and war.

Maxine, wasting no time, immediately seizes the initiative, her hands moving swiftly in a complex gesture as she incantates under her breath.

The air around her crackles with malevolent energy, forming a potent spell aimed at disrupting Lorraine's balance.

With a powerful sweeping motion, she directs the spell towards her target, sending a shockwave of energy surging in Lorraine's direction.

The attempt is both swift and calculated, designed to catch Lorraine off guard and exploit any vulnerabilities. As the incantations echo in the clearing, the very air seems to crackle with supernatural energy.

Lorraine, wielding the power of the elements with precision, unleashing bursts of fire and lightning against her sisters. Each blast illuminates their faces, revealing the true depth of their need to win this.

Maxine — seething with rage — retaliates with a dark and ominous incantation, commanding the shadows to rise up and ensnare Lorraine.

“You'll pay for this, Lorraine. You'll never know peace again!” with a swift and purposeful gesture, Maxine summons the shadows to obey her command, manipulating them to ensnare Lorraine in their inky embrace.

The tendrils of darkness writhe and twist sinuously, snaking around her like suffocating chains.

Despite the oppressive grip of the shadows, Lorraine fights fiercely, channeling her willpower to break free from Maxine's malevolent spell.

With a surge of sheer determination, she directs a powerful burst of energy towards the shadows, shattering their hold and emerging triumphantly from their clutches.

A flicker of defiance dances in her eyes as she stands her ground, unyielding in the face of Maxine's malevolence.

As Bobby-Lynn steps forward, preparing to join Maxine in her assault, Lorraine's gaze meets yours with a mixture of desperation and determination.

"Go!" she urges, her voice filled with urgency.

"RUN!"

Through the daze, you register that Lorraine is trying to sacrifice her own safety just at a whim chance you might be able to get away.

Even in the face of imminent danger, her priority is ensuring your safety, standing her ground to give you the chance you didn’t take when you came to save her.

Maxine and Bobby-Lynn join forces, their combined energy intertwining in a formidable offensive spell. With a synchronized incantation, they unleash a powerful blast towards Lorraine, aiming to exploit any opening in her defenses.

Lorraine, with unwavering focus, shifts her attention back to the conflict, channeling her magic to deflect the onslaught. The air crackles with the intensity of the magical exchange, causing the ground to tremble beneath their feet.

As the powers collide, the clearing morphs into a spectacle of contrasting lights—an amalgamation of fiery reds, crackling blues, and ominous shadows.

The elements intertwine in a mesmerizing dance, with flashes of energy rippling through the air like bolts of lightning.

Shadows stretch and bend with their command, snaking around the combatants, while vibrant bursts of light illuminate the battleground with an eerie brilliance.

For a moment, you’re captivated, entranced even.

As you observe Lorraine weakening from the intense energy exchange, a surge of protective instinct propels you forward, urging you to leap into action.

However, just as you're about to recklessly intervene, three familiar figures materialize from their hiding spots, halting your advance with their sudden and unexpected appearance. They move with an uncanny precision, circling you cautiously, like a pride of lions staking out prey.

Despite having three formidable adversaries surrounding you, you can't help but steal a quick glance at Lorraine, who — even when being outnumbered and weary — still manages to retaliate with a spell that disrupts Maxine and Bobby-Lynn's balance.

However your moment of split attention leaves you vulnerable as one of the male figures makes swift work of your momentary distraction, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder and holding you firmly in place, preventing you from moving any further.

Realizing it's Jackson who has grabbed you, you muster your strength and deliver a powerful strike, aiming your knee firmly between his legs.

Jackson immediately doubles over in pain, a groan escaping his lips, as he clutches at the sensitive area, struggling to regain his composure and balance.

As Jackson crumbles to the ground, a groan escaping his lips, you cast a brief glance at him, uttering with a hint of dry irony "sorry, no hard feelings, buddy”.

With that, your focus swiftly shifts to the other two remaining figures who continue to circle you cautiously, their intentions and next moves unclear.

You stand firm, raising your fists defiantly, displaying an open and ready stance. A determined smirk plays on your lips as you utter a provocative challenge, your voice laced with barbed sarcasm.

You know you don’t stand a chance against them physically, but what else can you do?

"Well, well, well, looks like we got a real dead fan club” your words carry a mixture of bravado and anticipation, a subtle mockery of their unspoken threat.

"I'd apologize for the lack of autographs, but I'm a bit 'busy' at the moment. So, unless you gotta plan on doin’ more than just dancin’ around, let's get this over with”.

As RJ and Wayne lunge towards you, their movements quick and precise, you react on instinct, pivoting swiftly to the side to dodge their advance.

The adrenaline surging through your veins sharpens your senses, making you acutely aware of every twist and turn.

Focus. Move. Breath. Move. Just like high school.

With a deftness you didn't know you possessed, you manage to evade their grasp, the ground beneath you churning with the dance of your nimble retreat. Despite the precarious situation, a spark of exhilaration ignites within you, fueling your determination to outsmart your formidable opponents.

You instinctively glance at Lorraine, concern knitting your brow as you take in the ongoing battle. She's still engaged in a fierce skirmish with Maxine and Bobby-Lynn, her every strike imbued with unyielding resolve.

Temporary awe bleeds through you, it’s hard not to watch because this isn’t card tricks or little parlor magic.

Both of them. Shes holding off both of them.

The clash of their magic sends ripples through the air, creating a chaotic dance of light and shadows. Despite her resilience, you can't help but worry about her chances against such formidable adversaries.

A shriek shatters the tense atmosphere, and in a split second, Wayne lunges towards you with a wild, reckless abandon. You barely manage to sidestep his uncontrolled charge, his movements clumsy yet undeniably calculated.

Recognizing the need for something to defend yourself with, your eyes dart around, scanning the surroundings for anything that could act as a makeshift weapon.

Your gaze finds the woodpile nearby, settles on an axe embedded into a chunk of wood with its blade glimmering amidst the moonlight cutting through the shadows, an unlikely companion in this tumultuous battle.

With a surge of decision, you make a mad dash towards the weapon, strides filled with a renewed sense of purpose. The world around you blurs as you focus on reaching the axe, your heart pounding in your still aching head.

Every muscle tenses as you approach the woodpile, your fingers closing around the handle of the axe, its weight reassuring in your grip.

Gripping the axe firmly, you muster all your strength and attempt to wrench it free from the chunk of wood. The blade remains lodged in place, the wood unyielding against your determined efforts.

Frustration builds within you, mingling with the urgency of the moment. Time seems to slip away as you strain, exerting every ounce of strength to force the blade free from its stubborn resting place.

The cut in your hand aches, making the handle slippery with your blood, so quickly you tear a bit of your already ripped shirt off and frantically wrap it around your hand.

Not the best, but a momentary solution.

You continue your struggle with the axe, desperation seeping into your every action. The words spill from your lips in a plea of "c'mon, c'mon, please”, gaze darting to the side, alarm fueling your urgency.

The three men, their movements a blur of intent draw ever closer, approaching swiftly and menacingly. With every passing second, the need to break free becomes more urgent, the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders. Your breath hitches, a mix of determination and terror coursing through your veins as you fight against the constraints holding the axe captive.

With a surge of frustration and desperation, you muster a final burst of energy and wrench the axe loose from the stubborn wood. The moment the axe is free, you pivot swiftly, your instincts honing in on Jackson approaching you.

They’re already dead. They’re already dead.

Besides, at this point, you’re so completely fed up and exhausted with everything that you have just too many pent up emotions needing release.

In that single instant your mind and body are a whirl of honed focus, channeling every ounce of determination into a single, deliberate strike.

The blade arcs through the air, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, and comes crashing down with unwavering precision.

It whistles through the air and connects to Jackson with a sickening crunch. A spray of blood splatters across the ground as Jackson falls, the metallic scent mingling with the charged atmosphere as a guttural groan escaping his lips.

And when he doesn’t get back up, you remind yourself that he wasn’t even alive anymore, there was nothing human left in him. In any of them.

The sight sends a shiver down your spine, but there's no time for hesitation. Your focus remains unwavering, your heart racing as you brace for the next assault.

Driven by a primal instinct to survive, you grip the axe tightly against your chest, your every fiber tense with anticipation. RJ lurches forward, his presence filling your field of vision.

Without a moment's hesitation, you sidestep his charge, your movements fueled by a rush of adrenaline. You twist with precision, narrowly evading RJ's outstretched arms, the axe clenched defensively in your grasp, every muscle taut.

With a swift and calculated motion, you seize the opportunity provided by RJ's momentary loss of balance.

Your arms move in a fluid arc, raising the axe above your head and then with a burst of power, bringing it down with force upon his vulnerable back.

The impact is sickening, the sound of the blade meeting flesh resonating through the air. A surge of exhilaration and terror courses through you as RJ falls to the ground, stunned and defeated by your decisive strike.

Just as you wrench the axe free from RJ, Wayne descends upon you with a frenzy of uncoordinated movements, his teeth bared in a threatening snarl.

In a desperate attempt to protect yourself, you swiftly hold the axe handle up, creating a makeshift barrier between you and Wayne's lunge.

The strain on your arms is immense as you brace against the weight of his mindless onslaught, the axe handle quivering against the force of his jaws snapping mere inches from your face.

Wayne's bloodshot eyes burn with a haunting intensity, magnified by their proximity to yours as he continues his determined growling. With an unsettling strength, his hands grip the axe handle firmly, tugging relentlessly to wrench it away from your grasp.

The unexpected force catches you off balance, blood already lubricating the handle which causes you to release it and stumble back, footing slipping momentarily.

Panic surges through you as the axe is torn from your hands, leaving you vulnerable and at the mercy of Wayne's unpredictable nature.

Wayne - gripped by a frenzied rage — raises the axe high above his head, a feral scream tearing from his throat.

He brings the axe down with a forceful arc, its blade glimmering fiercely in the dim light. Just as quickly, you find yourself slipping on the uneven ground beneath you, your balance faltering as you stumble backward.

The descent is abrupt, and you fall to the ground with a resounding thud. The axe swings with a sickening whoosh, its sharp edge inches above your head, narrowly missing your fallen form.

With a mixture of disbelief and terror, you find yourself uttering a “holy shit."

The sheer intensity of the situation overwhelms you, and in a panicked reflex, you scramble to your feet as he raises the blade again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins urging you to flee.

Wayne’s relentless pursuit propels you into action, and you bolt away, your heart pounding in your chest as you barely dodge yet another swing of the axe. Sinking into the soil just where you’d been.

You can’t help but feel a renewed surge of desperation, your mind racing with thoughts of survival. In that moment of heightened awareness, the world seems to slow down, every detail etched in your memory.

The thudding of your heart echoes in your ears, the wind moving past you as you sprint forward, the ground beneath your feet a blur of motion. Your eyes dart around, scanning the surroundings for any potential escape routes, instincts guiding your every step.

As you flee, your senses on high alert, you catch a glimpse of Wayne clumsily freeing the axe from its grounded position.

With a sickening clarity, you see him raising the weapon above his head, his movements still frenzied yet strangely calculated. It’s as if he’s locked onto your retreating figure with a predatory precision, poised to deliver a devastating throw. The blade of the axe glistens in the moonlight, its deadly aim directed towards you.

Lorraine's desperate cry of "NO!” pierces the air suddenly, drawing your attention from the impending threat back to her.

In a heart-stopping moment, you watch as she swiftly turns her aim from Maxine and Bobby-Lynn towards Wayne, her hands trembling with urgency.

Just as Wayne hurls the axe towards you, Lorraine cuts through the air with her hands and emits a concentrated blast of magic. The two forces collide, resulting in a shockwave that sends out a surge of energy that rocks the ground beneath you.

A causality from being in the range of the blast, the forceful impact of your fall sends a jolt of pain through your body. The ground gives way beneath you, and you find yourself sprawled on the unforgiving surface — the taste of dirt and blood mingling in your mouth.

The shockwave's aftermath leaves you disoriented, your head spinning as you try to gain your bearings. As you regain some composure, your ears ring relentlessly, the result of the fierce impact lingering like a phantom reminder of the battle's intensity.

Despite the pain and disorientation, you can't help but notice the reopening of old wounds, a poignant symbol of the repeated trauma you've endured.

A groan escapes your lips as you reach up to touch your head, wincing in pain as the ringing in your ears slowly subsides. Through blurry vision, you try to make out the figures engaged in the ongoing conflict.

Amidst the haze, flashes of vibrant magic illuminate the scene, casting an ethereal glow that dances across the battleground.

Despite the visual distortion, the radiant bursts of magic remain a vivid reminder of the supernatural forces at play, guiding your attention to the heart of the skirmish.

As you regain your composure and sit up, your gaze shifts to Lorraine, who is now under relentless assault by Bobby-Lynn and Maxine.

They attack with a ferocity that borders on madness, their unwavering focus directed solely towards their target. The onslaught is relentless, leaving Lorraine with little chance to retaliate.

The once calm and composed Lorraine now appears vulnerable and overwhelmed, her slender frame struggling against the barrage of attacks.

As you observe the ongoing struggle, your attention is drawn to Wayne, who has seemingly recovered from Lorraine's forceful blast. His movements are erratic, punctuated by guttural growls that escape his throat.

It's a chilling sight, a reminder of the malevolent force that now controls him, driving him forward with a single-minded focus. The once familiar face of Wayne is now distorted, contorted by darkness and despair, his eyes devoid of humanity as he stumbles towards Lorraine with relentless determination.

With a sense of urgency, you frantically search the ground for the dropped axe, your head throbbing with pain. Time seems to stretch as you desperately scour the area, your fingers grappling along the grass to find the familiar handle.

Every second counts as Wayne closes the distance between himself and Lorraine, propelled forward by an eerie determination.

As your fingers finally brush against the cool yet sticky wood of the axe, a surge of hope floods through you. You clench the handle tightly, your injured hand throbbing with pain as you shove yourself up off the ground with effort, and fall into a sprint.

With unwavering focus, you push through the pain and disorientation, your vision narrowing into a tunnel as you gather every ounce of strength left within you.

In a decisive motion, you swing the axe with all your might, targeting Wayne's side just before he reaches striking distance. The impact is deafening as the blade connects with his flesh, causing him to let loose an echoing bellow.

You mercilessly wrench the axe free from Wayne's wounded side, eliciting a sickening sound that echoes through the air.

Your lungs heave with heavy breaths, each exhale laced with an effort to maintain consciousness. The clash of magical forces continues behind you, a mesmerizing spectacle that dances eerily amidst the darkness.

Amidst it all, you stand, a tableau of both determination and desperation, your form streaked with a crimson hue — a mix of your own blood and the blood of your adversaries.

A macabre sense of humor laces your words as you manage through heavy breaths, "how's this for cutting the tension, Wayne?"

The clash of magic and the echoes of Wayne's scream fills the clearing, trying to push himself up on to his feet as he claws his way to you, so you seize the opportunity to strike a final blow.

With a decisive motion, you raise the axe high above your head and bring it down with unwavering force upon him, severing any hope of recovery.

The sickening crunch of metal meeting flesh reverberates through the air, accompanied by a surge of exhilaration that tinges the triumph with a hint of grim satisfaction.

The ground rumbles violently, shaking the very foundation beneath you. The intensity sends shockwaves through the earth, causing the fires surrounding you to whip and dance wildly.

Maxine, Bobby-Lynn, and Lorraine all halt their magic-induced battle, their eyes widening in a mix of awe and panic as they regard the spectacle.

The air currents, fueled by an inexplicable force, swirl around you like a tempest, crackling with an unseen energy that raises the hair on your arms.

Maxine's chilling laugh echoes through the air, drawing all attention towards her, her arms lifted triumphantly to the heavens as she proclaims “the second part of the ritual is complete! The sacrifices have been taken willingly by the promised!"

Maxine's declaration hangs heavily in the air, its weight settling upon you like a suffocating shroud. The implication of her words sinks in, their meaning twisted and sickening.

Panic courses through you as you grip the axe tightly, desperately seeking answers from Lorraine as your eyes find hers across the clearing.

"What the hell is she talking about?" you shout, a mix of fear and confusion lacing your voice.

The weight of the situation presses heavily upon your shoulders, a palpable tension settling in the air. Lorraine's face pales further as she recognizes the implications of Maxine's words.

"The prophecy," she whispers, her voice trembling before shifting into an accusatory shout as she whips around to Maxine.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”

Maxine responds with a subtle nod of her head, a silent signal to Bobby-Lynn, who seizes the opportunity to restrain Lorraine with an invisible force.

The air around Lorraine constricts and tightens, constricting her form. She lets out a sharp inhale, an audible gasp, as she attempts to break free from the unseen grip.

Instinctively you take a step forward, squaring your shoulders as you yell out “LET HER GO! This is between us now!”

Maxine turns her attention to you, a calculated look in her eyes, seemingly relishing the power she possesses. Her voice, carrying a hint of dark satisfaction, repeats the chilling verse.

"Three sacrifices, taken willingly by the one promised," she intones, her steps approaching you with unwavering purpose.

A surge of trepidation floods through you, your heart pounding against your chest, as you tightly grip the axe, your every instinct screaming to be cautious.

The air around you seems to thicken with an intangible menace as Maxine closes the distance between you, a wicked smile playing at the edges of her lips.

Your voice echoes forcefully, "they were already dead! It doesn't count—"

Before you can finish, Maxine swiftly interrupts you, “no one gives a shit about the details” her words filled with a chilling finality “it has waited too long to abide by guidelines" she declares, her expression resolute.

The weight of her statement hangs heavily in the air, its implications sending a shiver down your spine. It's becoming increasingly clear that Maxine's motives are far more complex and sinister than you could have initially anticipated.

The true extent of the danger you face is only now beginning to unravel.

Lorraine's voice cuts through the chaos, a desperate plea, "run!" she begs, “you have to run!"

Despite the alarm in her voice, you don't relent. Planting your feet firmly, you stand your ground, realizing the futility of fleeing. With resolute determination, you understand that this has to be faced head-on for it to end.

You know if you run, they will simply find you again.

With the force of a tempest, Lorraine struggles against the invisible binds, her voice echoing with escalating panic. "No!" she cries out, desperation lacing her tone, “don’t be a hero!”

Yet you remain steadfast, adjusting your grip on the axe with unwavering resolve. You take a moment to steady yourself, drawing a deep breath before taking a step forward, your gait measured and determined. Maxine, undeterred, matches your stride, closing the gap between you with an eerily calm expression on her face.

Summoning every ounce of your remaining strength, you muster a mocking retort, calling out to Maxine “how’s this for having a few brain cells?"

With a surge of determination, you shake off your body's warning signals, pushing past the dizziness that threatens to overwhelm you.

With a reckless swing, you lunge forward. Your muscles tense, fueling the forceful movement as the axe blade arcs through the air towards Maxine.

In a display of almost taunting grace, Maxine smoothly side-steps your initial swing, her movements fluid and calculated.

Frustration boils within you, fueling your desperation. You let out a cry of exertion as you muster the strength to swing again, disregarding the protest in your arms and the searing burn of your exhausted muscles.

The axe blade arcs through the air, determined to meet its mark despite the mounting fatigue—

“ENOUGH!”

Maxine snatches the hilt mid-air with surprising ease, her grip firm and unwavering. Your arms tremble with the strain, the once surging adrenaline now fading, leaving behind the stark realization of your depleting strength.

The axe blade hovers in the air, poised and still, as though frozen in time between you and Maxine. Despite your valiant attempt, you can feel your body's resolve waning, the struggle to maintain your stance becoming increasingly arduous.

With a single effortless motion, Maxine swiftly tears the axe from your gripping fingers and flings it aside.

The discarded weapon lands heavily, its significance eclipsed by the immediate threat at hand.

Her free hand seizes you around the neck, the grip harsh and unyielding, leaving you little room to maneuver.

Your vision starts to blur as her grip tightens around your throat, a suffocating sensation that intensifies with every passing second.

The room starts to spin as your senses dull, the edges of your vision darkening. The sound of Lorraine's panicked calls fade into the background as a cold wave of fatigue washes over you.

Despite the desperate grasp of your hands around her wrist, the struggle grows feeble and halfhearted, the fight drained out of you by the relentless chokehold and the profound blood loss.

You fight to maintain consciousness, but your body grows heavy, the relentless grip of blackness slowly enveloping you.

Only… it’s not her grip on you that has your consciousness fading in and out.

Amidst the chaos and encroaching darkness, you find yourself fixated on Maxine's unsettling incantation she’d been muttering since she grabbed you.

Her free hand, cold and clammy, suddenly presses firmly against your forehead. A sharp, searing pain unlike anything you've ever experienced before erupts within you.

It's as if a scorching fire has suddenly ignited inside your skull, the intensity and suddenness of the heat spreading through your veins and leaving you reeling.

The world around you starts to melt away into a blur, the agony consuming your entire being. Your body bucks and contorts involuntarily, your spine arching in a forceful, unnatural manner. The sudden surge of agony radiating through your chest intensifies, excruciating torment that claws at your very soul.

Within your mind, a cacophony of disoriented voices echo, their chants merging with Maxine's incantations in a chilling symphony of torture.

The onslaught tearing at you from the inside is overwhelming, each voice feeding the scorching intensity burning through every nerve in your body.

Lorraine, driven by a potent mix of anger and desperation, breaks free from Bobby-Lynn's magical restraints.

Every fiber of her being is channeled into a surge of strength and determination. With unyielding resolve, she forcefully breaks through the constraints, shattering the hold Bobby-Lynn had over her.

The moment she is free, her focus shifts entirely to you, her eyes filled with unwavering dedication.

The intensity you’re undergoing intensifies, the excruciating pain mounting with each passing second.

Your voice finally breaks free in a shrill, agonized scream, the sound echoing with the sheer distress and torment you're enduring. The pain sears through every nerve, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Maxine casts a fleeting glance at Lorraine, a look of warning flashing in her eyes, but her focus remains firmly on the sinister ritual she's conducting.

It's clear that she's intent on seeing this through, regardless of the pain and suffering it inflicts upon you.

And that, just won’t do.

With a swift and forceful motion, Lorraine channels her energy, unleashing it upon Maxine. The impact sends Maxine staggering back, knocked away from your convulsing form.

The sudden release from Maxine's grip leaves you vulnerable and weak, your body collapsing helplessly to the ground near the roaring flames of the bonfire.

Lorraine, driven by desperation and determination, unleashes a barrage of blows on Maxine, throwing all her energy she has left into the effort.

Yet, despite the intensity of Lorraine's attacks, Maxine effortlessly deflects each one with an almost supernatural ease.

The deflected blows ricochet off Maxine like they are nothing, her focus unyielding and undisturbed. All the while, Lorraine desperately tries to reach your side, the urgency evident in her frantic movements.

As Maxine rises to her feet, Lorraine stands firm, poised and determined. The realization that she must face Maxine head-on settles within her, and she steels herself for the confrontation.

With unwavering resolve, Lorraine does everything in her power to divert Maxine's focus away from you. She deftly maneuvers, creating a dance-like exchange of attacks and dodges, all with the sole purpose of keeping Maxine's attention squarely on her. The air is thick with intensity as Lorraine fights, buying you precious moments.

And then, there’s a pause between them both, breathing raggedly and hands poised at the ready.

As a standoff commences, a palpable clash of wills fills the air. Maxine and Lorraine stand face to face, their expressions etched with unwavering determination.

Each woman's gaze is razor-sharp, their features reflecting a mixture of concentration and focus.

They circle each other cautiously, steadfast on the precipice of the battle continued where the stakes are both physical and supernatural.

The intense face-off between Maxine and Lorraine is suddenly interrupted by the resounding voice of Bobby-Lynn.

She interjects, her tone stern yet tinged with annoyance "Lorraine! This is so not you, it ain’t right!"

The unexpected intervention startles both women, their attention momentarily diverted. Bobby-Lynn steps forward, her expression a blend of disappointment and disbelief.

Lorraine's gaze flicks towards you, now being supported upright by Bobby-Lynn, being used almost like a human shield. The sight that confronts her sends a shiver of horror down her spine.

You stagger weakly, your eyes barely open and your body drenched in a sickening sea of crimson. The realization hits Lorraine like a ton of bricks; you're in far worse shape than she initially thought.

As she takes in the gravity of the situation, Lorraine's expression mirrors the churning nausea in her stomach. Her focus shifts sharply from Maxine to you, her concern escalating exponentially.

Bobby-Lynn, her mock sympathy reaching its peak, stretches her arm around you and seizes your face with false concern.

With a dramatic pout on her lips, she turns her gaze to Lorraine, taunting expression on her face, and utters, "you're really gonna give up everything — power, freedom, control — for this? C'mon now”.

Her words hang in the air, dripping with sarcasm and disdain as she questions Lorraine's loyalty and devotion, where it truly lies.

Lorraine, with a slow and deliberate motion, raises her hands in a gentle and non-threatening position.

Gathering her composure, she tries to plead a case “please, you don’t have to do this—“, only for Maxine to swiftly interject, emphasizing the importance of unity.

"Not so long ago, you were with us, Lorraine," Maxine reminds her, "not against us." The weight of their shared history hangs heavily in the air as Maxine's words echo through the clearing, challenging Lorraine's recent shift in allegiance.

As Lorraine's gaze shifts to Maxine, she observes the irritation and perplexity etched on her face. With a firm tone, Maxine points out the reality, saying, "Rooks left you, Lorraine. We were the ones who stood by you”.

Maxine's words hit home, reminding Lorraine of the contrasting support she had received. The mention of your return being facilitated by Maxine and Bobby-Lynn adds another layer to their argument, a reminder of the complexities of their relationships and loyalties.

Lorraine takes a momentary pause, the weight of memories and emotions tugging at her. Though she almost succumbs to feelings of doubt, the sight of you, weakened and bloodied, anchors her.

The deep-seated worry and love for you override any lingering confusion. Lorraine's resolve firms as she steels herself against the influences attempting to sway her.

With unwavering determination, Lorraine steadies herself, drawing strength from the unwavering loyalty you had shown by returning for her.

She looks to Maxine and Bobby-Lynn, her voice carrying a resolute undercurrent. "You may say Rooks left me," she says, a hint of defiance lacing her words “but Rooks came back. Even with no reason to stay after finding out the truth, yet did."

Lorraine's steadfastness in the face of doubt and conflicting loyalties shines through as she speaks up for your unwavering commitment and presence in her life.

Maxine and Bobby-Lynn exchange a quick, meaningful glance, an unspoken dialogue passing between them as a subtle understanding forms.

Amidst the tension, Bobby-Lynn holds you in her gentle yet firm grip, ensuring you don’t collapse. The weight of the situation hangs heavily in the air, the unspoken conversation between Maxine and Bobby-Lynn adding an air of anticipation as the power dynamics shift.

Bobby-Lynn turns her gaze to Lorraine, her mock innocence apparent in her eyes. "If it's Rooks' heart that you want…" she says slyly, a hint of mischief in her voice.

Her words carry a sharp edge, and Lorraine feels a pang of unease as they strike her deeply. The revelation of their true intentions sends shockwaves through her. It's a stark reminder of the treacherous nature of those she once trusted, leaving her in a state of vulnerability and uncertainty.

“…I’ll happily get it for you”.

As Bobby-Lynn's fingers splay out against your chest, the air in the clearing thick with tension, Lorraine's heart clenches in realization.

Fear floods her face, her eyes widening in horror as she processes the true intention behind Bobby-Lynn's actions.

With a sharp inhale, Lorraine screams your name as she instinctively rushes forward, her voice filled with terror and desperation.

"NO! No, please don’t!" she pleads, the panic evident in her voice.

The ground beneath and around the area of the bonfire suddenly starts to rumble and shake, causing Bobby-Lynn to lose her footing.

She lets go of you, momentarily distracted by the unexpected upheaval. The once still and stable earth heaves unsettlingly, causing them all to scramble to maintain balance, trying to steady against the tremors that rock the very foundation they stand upon.

And then, the ground splits open.

Lorraine instantly drops, hands splayed across the grass as if it could do anything to anchor her. Bobby-Lynn somehow manages to stay upright, nearly topping back into the bonfire behind her.

Maxine, having been standing close to where the newly formed gap in the ground is, barely manages to catch herself on the edge to prevent herself from falling in.

Her head hovers over the opening, the void below threatening to swallow her whole. The sudden ground shift has caused an unstable edge to form, putting Maxine in a precarious position as she struggles to regain her balance.

The violent shaking abruptly ceases, leaving the atmosphere charged with suspense. As Lorraine struggles to push herself upright, she looks up at the sound of a scream to see Maxine hurled forcefully backward, as if hit by an unseen and powerful force.

Maxine's body soars through the air, propelled in an unnatural arc that defies gravity. Lorraine gazes in shock and surprise at the unexpected spectacle unfolding before her eyes.

And when she lands, it’s hard, rolling back a few feet before coming to a halt.

She doesn’t get up, nor move at all.

As Bobby-Lynn swiftly moves to Maxine's side, concern etched across her face, she urgently calls out to her.

"Maxine! Maxine!" she exclaims, her voice tinged with worry. Meanwhile, Lorraine is presented with a brief window of opportunity.

She hastens to scramble on the ground, urgently making her way to your unconscious form, utilizing this momentary distraction to her advantage.

Lorraine's heart pounds in her chest as she rushes to you, panic coursing through her veins. The sight of your unconscious form, lying motionless on the ground, fills her with a sick feeling, a deep sense of dread gripping her.

She reaches you, gently lifting up your head and cradling you in her arms with an aching tenderness. Tears well up in her eyes as she takes in the extent of your injuries, her heart heavy with worry and fear.

“Stay with me, don’t you dare do nothin’ stupid now like die—“ she mutters, pressing her fingers against your neck and holding her breath, the amount of relief she feels when she finds a pulse is almost overwhelming.

Tears gather in Lorraine's eyes, her voice breaking as a broken sob escapes her lips. She holds you tenderly, her hand gently cradling your face, as if to protect you from further harm.

Her heart aches as she whispers words of reassurance to you, her voice low and shaky with emotions. "It's okay," she murmurs, her voice laced with tears and fear, “you're gonna to be alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Your eyelids flutter slightly as you struggle to fight off the exhaustion that threatens to overwhelm you. Despite your valiant effort to maintain your breath, the strain is evident on your face, your body clearly overwhelmed by fatigue and injury. Every breath seems labored, a battle against your own weakening body.

Lorraine's comforting words are interrupted by a sharp cry of pain, catching her attention and pulling it away from you.

Concern etched on her face, she turns to look in the direction of the cry, her eyes flickering between you and the commotion a few feet away from the bonfire.

The sequence of events unfold like a blur, with everything happening in rapid succession. Lorraine manages to catch a glimpse of the scene, witnessing Maxine's abrupt and stiff actions as she grabs Bobby-Lynn's face and slowly rises to her feet.

There's a sense of discomfort and unease in the way Maxine moves, something distinctly amiss in her unnatural stiffness.

Lorraine holds you close, shielding you from harm as she frantically scans the surrounding area, trying to find a way to extract you from this dangerous situation.

At the same time, she cannot tear her gaze away from the unfolding events a bit a ways from the bonfire, her mind racing with worry and uncertainty about what's about to transpire.

When Lorraine looks away for what is only a mere two seconds, her heart skips a beat at the horrifying sound that reaches her ears.

It's a sickening crunch, as if bone has met with something hard and unyielding.

This is followed by the distinct thud of something hitting the ground nearby. Her mind instantly reels at the sound, knowing instinctively that whatever happened was nothing good.

Lorraine's gaze slowly moves back to where Maxine and Bobby-Lynn were. Her eyes widen in horror when she sees Bobby-Lynn's motionless body lying on the ground at Maxine’s feet, her neck bent at an unnatural angle.

A wave of shock and revulsion washes over Lorraine as she takes in the gruesome sight. She instinctively tightens her hold on you, her heart racing with fear.

Maxine inhales deeply, her eyes closing with an unnerving focus. The peaceful silence of the moment is brutally interrupted as her head jerks backwards, her mouth opening to display a set of glistening, razor-sharp teeth that are distinctly non-human. Her entire countenance is transformed, taking on an eerie, otherworldly quality.

Maxine releases a bone-chilling shriek that reverberates through the night air, its pitch unlike anything ever heard before.

The sound is so unearthly and unnatural that it sends nearby birds hiding in the trees flying into the sky in a panicked flurry, their shrill caws adding to the already chaotic atmosphere.

The gears of Lorraine’s mind spin in a desperate attempt to process the situation and determine a course of action.

She fights to maintain her composure in the face of this supernatural onslaught, her determination ignited by the desperation to navigate through this nightmare-like reality.

The demon, now possessing Maxine's body, turns its gaze towards Lorraine and you, its demeanor chilling and menacing. Lorraine's heart races as she braces herself for whatever might happen next, her mind going through different scenarios and preparing for the worst.

In the dancing light cast by the flickering bonfire, Lorraine catches a glimpse of the demon's inky black eyes.

The scene is vividly unsettling, the flames casting an ominous glow over Maxine's possessed form, her once familiar features now marred by something sinister and otherworldly.

Lorraine holds you tightly, her heart pounding with fear and protectiveness. Her thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind, a mixture of fear, determination, and guilt.

"Please, hold on," she whispers down to you, her voice quivering but firm. "I won't let anything happen to you. We'll get out of this, I promise."

She scans the surroundings again, desperately searching for an escape route or a way to defend you both against the malevolent force that now controls Maxine.

As her thoughts race and her mind whirs, Lorraine's focus is abruptly interrupted as the demon suddenly seems to pull back, retreating into the night.

The bonfire's flames cast an eerie, flickering light over the scene as it hurries away, its retreating form blending into the shadow of the treeline and vanishing into the darkness.

And just like that, it’s over just as quickly as it started.

The bonfire still burns, casting an uneasy, wavering light over the surroundings. The bodies of Bobby-Lynn as well as the butchered remains of the men, along with the way you lie motionless on the cold, hard ground — a silent testament to the violence that has just been unleashed upon.

The night air is brisk and cool, a sharp contrast to the heat of the bonfire behind her. Off in the distant trees, the familiar caw of a crow can be heard, its mournful cry eerily blending in with the desolate setting.

Lorraine stares off — stunned, at the fact the demon simply left, disappearing into the trees. She lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding, her heart still pounding furiously in her chest.

Her mind races, trying to process what just happened. She looks down at you, still unconscious and vulnerable in her arms, and feels a renewed sense of determination.

"It's gone," she whispers, more reassuring herself than anything.

"For now, it's gone."

____________________________________________

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeates throughout the kitchen, its rich and enticing scent filling the air.

Alongside this, the sizzle and pop of bacon cooking in a pan on the stove can be heard, creating a comforting and familiar background melody.

Lorraine stands by the stove, frying some bacon while occasionally glancing over her shoulder. The early morning light streams in from the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow over the room.

Lorraine's face bears a mix of exhaustion and worry, her mind no doubt preoccupied with the chain of events from the last few days.

Finally the bacon is done, and Lorraine plates it, placing a few crispy strips on a dish already stacked with pancakes, and promptly turns off the stove.

She sighs, pouring a cup of coffee and taking a small sip. The caffeine is needed, as Lorraine had been up most of the night watching over you while you slept fitfully.

Not that she will ever complain.

Even when you sleep restlessly, she’s grateful to wake up from her own nightmares where she watches Bobby-Lynn rip your heart from your chest, only to find you sound asleep next to her.

Heart still beating.

Ever since that fateful night, yours and Lorraine's sleep has been restless and plagued by nightmares. It's not surprising; the trauma of what happened is still raw and fresh in both of your minds.

No thanks to her, which is a guilt she will carry with her indefinitely.

But for now, Lorraine thinks to herself, you're out of the hospital and away from the relentless questioning of the police has come to an end.

It's a small mercy in an otherwise turbulent situation.

Basically, you’ve both been house bound until the investigation is concluded, at least out here you aren’t being watched by everyone. Because unfortunately for Lorraine, her life happens to me right in the middle of town, so the manor was the only option.

You’d been against it heavily, but the scrutiny from the townsfolk eventually made you cave.

Lorraine grabs the plate of bacon and the steaming cup of coffee, balancing them carefully in her hands.

She then steps out of the kitchen and into the living room of the manor, maneuvering around familiar furniture and taking in the sight of the room she's already spent countless hours in.

As Lorraine walks through the room, she carefully navigates around the still half-packed boxes that litter the floors.

These boxes are now a forgotten sight, their contents unimportant compared to the bigger, more pressing issues at hand.

Lorraine moves past them all until she reaches the foyer, her steps a bit quicker now without obstacles as she heads up the stairs, humming a soft and soothing background melody that fills the air.

As she reaches the top, she veers to the right, deliberately avoiding looking in the direction of your Pops’ old study.

The sight of the door, now nailed shut and reinforced with a fancy lock, still brings shudders down her spine. The sacrilegious text that lies within will stay there, at least until you both figure out what to do with it, considering how burning the damn thing didn’t work.

You never did liked that room. She doesn’t blame you for it either, all things considered.

The energy seems to shift as Lorraine approaches the door leading out to the balcony patio area. A subtle change in the air, a stillness, as if the rest of the world is holding its breath.

The atmosphere becomes more open, more inviting. The faint sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling carry on the breeze, a stark contrast to the cramped indoors.

As Lorraine steps through the open doorway, into the balcony area, she instinctively exhales, the relief almost tangible.

Lorraine's heart sinks as she glances over to see you, sitting at a small table nearby, turning to look at the sound of her footsteps.

The sight of the bandage still wrapped around your head serves as a reminder of the events that brought you both to where you are now. But despite this, she forces a soft smile onto her face, hiding the pang of worry she feels.

Lorraine approaches, softly greeting you with a whispered "hey."

She then sets down the plate filled with bacon and pancakes on the table in front of you, followed by the steaming cup of coffee.

Her movements are gentle, as if worried any wrong move might break the fragile equilibrium of the moment.

Your gaze follows Lorraine, tracking her every movement as she sinks into the seat next to you. There's an undeniable warmth and tenderness in your eyes, the adoration you feel for her written on your face.

Your eyes linger on her face, taking in every feature as if committing it to memory. The softness in your expression belies the fear and trepidation still present in your heart, but your devotion and love for her remain unwavering.

The aftermath of the incident had left both you and Lorraine struggling to find solid ground. The days immediately following were a whirlwind of police questioning, doctors' visits, and general chaos.

It wasn't until a few days later, when the dust seemed to have settled, that the two of you were able to find a moment of relative calm to properly talk about everything that had happened.

During that time, it had been difficult to find the right timing and space to truly process your thoughts and emotions with everything else going on.

You’d somewhat touched on everything, or at least everything in regard to her role in it all, and she’d been completely honest.

For now, it was going to have to do.

The police had grilled you both for hours on end about the deaths that had occurred, demanding to know what happened.

You both had answered their questions as honestly as you could manage, but there were certain things — including Lorraine's initial involvement — that you both had deliberately omitted from your statements.

The police didn't need to know everything, especially not something that could potentially incriminate Lorraine further.

Following the incident, Maxine had gone missing, disappearing without a trace.

You had tried to explain that the situation was far more complex than the police believed, that there were supernatural forces at play.

Lorraine had backed you up on this, corroborating your tale, but the police had remained stubbornly skeptical. The idea of witchcraft or supernatural forces was too far-fetched for them to accept.

They believed you must be either delusional or outright lying.

Lorraine is pulled out of her thoughts as you dangle a piece of bacon in front of her face in a playful gesture. She quickly mirrors your smile, accepting the treat before biting into it.

"Thanks," she mumbles through a mouthful of bacon, a mixture of gratitude and amusement in her voice.

As you laugh, a small wince involuntarily escapes you, causing Lorraine to immediately sit bolt upright, concern etched across her face.

Sensing your discomfort, she gently places a hand on your shoulder, grounding you as your taut muscles instantly seem to ease at her touch.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice brimming with worry.

You're about to snap out a sarcastic reply, your usual defensive mechanism taking over. After all, you're not used to being pampered and cared for.

And there's still a sliver of resentment towards Lorraine, remembering her initial deception. But as your eyes meet hers, a soft understanding passes between you.

She did try to warn you, then set you free, saved your life, broke free from the malevolent manipulation that had a dark hold on her soul — all for you.

You fight down the snark, softening your tone as you respond “I'm fine”, albeit quietly.

Lorraine watches you closely, sensing the change in your demeanor. Her hand remains on your shoulder, a soothing presence in the midst of the myriad of emotions swirling through her.

"Are you sure that’s what you’re gonna go with this time?" she asks gently, her words laced with concern.

She knows you're hesitant to show weakness, to be vulnerable, but she's determined to be there for you, whether you like it or not.

You're about to respond, exhausted and worn out, when your words catch in your throat. Out of the blue, a familiar caw rings through the air, stealing your attention.

Your body tenses instinctively, muscles tightening in response to the sound.

It's a sound you know all too well.

Lorraine sits quietly, her gaze fixed on you, watching and waiting patiently. She's learned over time that pushing you never works, that you need space to process and speak your mind in your own way.

It's a habit she's grown accustomed to, waiting for you, but this time it's for a different reason.

Lorraine feels a sense of duty, a debt to you that she is eager to repay. She knows that your trust in her is fragile right now, and she's determined to earn it back, step by step.

You fix your gaze into the distance, a pensive look on your face, before muttering your thoughts aloud.

"I don't think accepting was a good idea," you speak softly, your words tinged with a hint of unease. Lorraine turns to look at you, her expression inquisitive, waiting for you to elaborate.

You shift your gaze to meet Lorraine's gaze, your brow furrowing in contemplation "I just think it’s weird," you begin, your words laced with skepticism, "how our case was picked up so fast by a stranger from across the country. Doesn't that seem a bit off to you? I mean — how does someone in New York catch wind of a Texas case?”

Lorraine gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she responds, her voice quiet and soothing.

"What matters is that someone does believe us, this someone is all we got" she starts, her words firm yet tender. "And if we get locked up..." She pauses, hesitating, not wanting to speak her next words aloud.

Right. And then there’s still that issue at hand.

You nod in agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation. You finish Lorraine's thought, your voice tinged with a mix of resignation and determination.

"That thing will still be out there," you state, the words hanging heavily in the air, “possessing Maxine, wreaking havoc."

That was also something you’d both somewhat touched on, the conversation wasn’t long, considering you both felt partially responsible for unleashing a demon out into the world.

And thus, you both felt it meant you’d have to be the ones to put it back.

Another loud caw interrupts your thoughts, the sound drawing your attention away once more. Lorraine, silently observing, simply watches you, her eyes never straying from your face.

After the caw fades into the distance, Lorraine speaks up, her voice soft and inquisitive, “they still call to you?”

You fall into a pondering, contemplative silence for a moment, your mind working through the implications of the caw.

Finally, you speak, murmuring quietly, "it's different this time," you brow furrows, voice low and thoughtful.

"It's not a warning, but it’s… a beckoning”.

Lorraine tilts her head slightly, her eyes fixed on your face, a quizzical expression on her face.

"What do you mean?" she asks, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

In response, you look back at her and offer a shrug, a weary sigh escaping your lips. You're about to speak, your words tinged with a bit of optimism.

"I just hope this Detective can—"

But before you can finish, Lorraine interrupts you with a soft laugh, her tone tinged with amused affection as she playfully corrects you.

"You mean Private Investigator”.

Despite the gravity of the situation, a faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you react to Lorraine's playful correction.

Her lightheartedness serves as a brief but welcome diversion from the grim reality you're facing.

For a moment, the weight of it all seems to lighten just a bit.

Your gazes hold each other for a moment, a silent connection passing between you. Her hand rests on your shoulder, a gentle yet grounding presence. A soft intimacy envelops the moment as you both share it together in the quiet solitude.

Despite the lingering feelings of betrayal and trust, beneath it all there's a love that remains.

Lorraine has become an integral part of your life, a constant presence in the chaos.

You may not have fully forgiven or trust her yet, but she's the only one you have, and that realization weighs heavily on you.

As if attuned to your thoughts, Lorraine suddenly asks gently, her voice tentative, "do you think you can find it in yourself to forgive me?"

The question lingers in the air, leaving a tension hanging in the space between you. It's a query that cuts right to the core of your feelings, forcing you to acknowledge and confront the pain inflicted by her actions.

Your response is tempered with a hint of playfulness, but there's a genuine warmth in your eyes as you speak.

"It might take some time," you reply, your voice low but affectionate. The corners of your mouth curl upwards in a slight smile, telegraphing a mixture of forgiveness and the lingering hurt beneath it.

Lorraine understands the nuances of your response, her hand gently moving from your shoulder to tenderly cup your face.

As she does, you instinctively lean into her palm, the simple gesture evoking a sense of comfort and security.

Lorraine's voice, soft and sincere, resonates in the air between you as she speaks.

"If you'll have me," she says, her words filled with determination, "I'll use every day as a means to make it up to you. To prove myself."

Your smile grows wider as you cover her hand with your own bandaged one. Your touch is gentle, yet firm, conveying a mixture of vulnerability and strength.

You turn your head, your lips brushing against her palm as you murmur softly, "maybe some day."

You take a moment to sort through the maelstrom of emotions and uncertainty that swirls within you. Amidst the confusion and hurt, there's a glimmer of hope.

You realize that despite the current chaos, you don't want to face it alone. You need Lorraine by your side, and that thought alone gives you a sense of comfort in this storm.

The path forward is uncertain, but having her with you, even if it's a work in progress, means the world to you.

There is still the demonic entity, lurking behind the chaos and the supernatural events that have unfolded.

You know that deep down, it's only a matter of time before it unleashes its destructive power upon the mortal world.

Despite the looming threat, you feel a sense of determination.

You know the reckoning is coming, but you're confident that when it does, both of you will be prepared to face it.

Together.

previous.

AN: thank you everyone who followed along with this series! As always, it’s been an honor, a pleasure, and a privilege.

————————————————————————

Tag List: @thatshyboy1998

#lorraine day x y/n #lorraine day x you #lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #spaghetti inspires

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divine-donna · 2 months

Text

for me...formidable

i'm going to commit to the bit and make this a real thing. because i like the idea of tashi getting her fellow tennis player back in the game.

this will also be another time where i'm specifying reader's gender. so a female reader. and they're the same age as tashi.

unfortunately did i technically make covid canon in the universe? yes. yes i did.

pairing: tashi duncan x fem! reader

context: 2019 (briefly), late 2020 - 2021

"are you just going to keep eyefucking your husband? or...?"

you turn your head back to look at her. "sorry." you feel the phantom feeling of pain shooting up your leg and your fingers go to scratch at the scar on your leg.

tashi glances over. your husband and hers. playing tennis in the country club. she can overhear the conversation from them. come on art! do it! beat me!

"and how are your kids?"

"they're fine. doing well in school. having fun at sleepaway camp. it's just me in the house. feels unnatural." your stomach churns at the thought of your kids.

that's not to say you didn't love them. you loved your triplets. but your triplets reminded you that you could have had a different path. you could've had them later after you won the coveted venus rosewater dish. to finish your collection of trophies on the shelf. to finish a grand slam career title.

you feared you had aged out of the sport. and that there was no chance for you. a comeback was out of your league.

"he still keeps you at home?"

"yeah. even though i saved his career." you take a sip of your virgin strawberry daquiri. "that whole speech, the whole rebrand idea...was me. it was my idea."

"he's been keeping you locked up since college. so i'm not surprised." tashi's fingers tap on the table as she looks out at the men playing tennis.

"locked up since i got my injury." you scoff. "hate it. i hate seeing that empty space on the shelf. there's enough room for another trophy. for wimbledon." you sniffle. you blink back the tears. your husband always scolded you for getting emotional about it.

"you healed. you recovered well." tashi cocks her head to the side, and she pushes her sunglasses up so they rest atop her head. "why aren't you playing?"

"dan says...some shit about not wanting me to get hurt again. it's real bullshit."

"yeah. it is. you should play."

you raise your eyebrows, looking at tashi. "tashi."

"what? you can do it. you're still young."

"i'm 31. i don't...i don't want to be one of those players that comes back way past their prime. besides, i wouldn't even know where to start-"

"i can coach you."

you nearly spat out your drink. you swallow it down and ignore how cold it is, how it painfully travels down your system. "huh!"

"i can coach you. feel like you're...a lot easier to work with than some other people." tashi leans back in her seat. you were always receptive to her advice and criticism back at stanford. you always took things to heart because you strived for perfection and for pushing yourself.

and secretly, tashi wanted to piss off your husband. she's always hated dan.

you purse your lips. "tashi i...no. don't. you don't need to!"

"art wants to retire. after he tries for the u.s. open. win or lose. he wants to retire. i need someone new. and i think you deserve a second chance."

"that's...that's if i can even play the same. i'm old! my body is...completely different from when we were in college. i have three kids-"

"dan can watch the kids, for once. just...you don't even have to tell me now. you can think about it. if you want to play but not go with me, that's fine too. i would just hate to see a stranger try to say what you should and shouldn't do."

after all, you deserve to be cared for by the woman who knows you the best.

lockdown was a time where you really sat and thought about your tennis career.

you were tired of just taking care of the kids all day, of being locked in with them all the time.

and what you hated the most was that empty space on your shelf, staring at it all day, every day. you hated it when your husband showed it off on facetime to his friends. he almost bragged about the fact that there was a missing trophy, that you were missing a grand slam.

about two months into lockdown, you text tashi.

– let's do this – comeback of the century, right? – and i want you on board

"art's excited for you."

"is he?" you look at her as she's writing something on the legal pad. she always enjoyed the feeling of the paper. she was writing with a pen you had bought her. it was from a stationary store and the kind that had a tiny tennis ball and tennis racquet attached to the clicker.

"i think he's just happy to...relax." she looks up, watching the way your body was being stretched by the trainer. "you're a little bit older. and you have some clotting issues since giving birth. i can get in touch with some people to help craft a suit that will help."

"tashi, don't you think we're doing too much?"

"we aren't. you're older. and your body is obviously different from art's. for one, you literally made and carried three kids. we just need to get you the right equipment, get your body back into shape, and train you up."

the look of hesitation does not go unnoticed. "we can stop at any time-"

"no. i want that dish." you say it through gritted teeth. "i'm going to fucking get it."

tashi feels her lips curl into a satisfied smile. "hell yes we are."

"i registered you for a tournament. they're starting to open things back up." tashi lightly hits the ball and watches the way your legs move with precision. you hit the ball and it knocks over the cone all the way to your left. "you're basically a whole new player. some people might remember you, some won't. so we're leaning towards a new public image." she hits another ball.

you hit it and knock over the final cone.

"what does dan think about all this?" she asks.

you shake your head, wiping the sweat off of your forehead. "i'm divorcing dan."

tashi raises her eyebrows. "oh. is everything okay?"

"everything is fine. i...just hated him. don't hate the kids. they're sweethearts. and he's wasn't around enough for them to really grow attached to him. i...i was trying to work things out when he swooped in like a hawk and shoved that ring on my finger." you loved not being able to wear it. "i finally worked those things out."

"good for you. you deserve better."

like her.

but tashi would never say that out loud.

charleston. the perfect opportunity for a comeback.

you've faced worse. you had to remind yourself of that. the charleston open was not as serious as the other tournaments of the past. your hands were cold and frigid beneath the air conditioning. and they were growing numb.

"hey. hey. you're going to do great."

tashi's hands are warm. they cup your face, making you look at her and deep into her brown eyes.

she's always so warm.

"i can't feel my fingers." you mutter.

"here." she moves her hands to take yours, pressing them flat together between her own. "warm enough?"

"i can...feel it coming back."

tashi watches the way your eyes look all over the place, how they take in the crevices of the wall. you were always an observant person. you always liked looking at the walls of the locker room.

the catsuit looked really good on you too.

"what if...this is all a mistake..." you mumble.

"then it would be a waste of hard work and materials." she doesn't mean to sound cold. "and technically, you would have divorced dan for no reason."

you finally look at her. her eyes are soft. and you understand. she sees another shot within you. the same kind of shot she saw within art.

"yeah. i guess." there's the remnant of a laugh leaving you.

tashi leans forward. her lips are soft. and she tastes like prosecco. her perfume is warm with spices.

you kiss her back, leaning towards her, leaning into her. it feels right. kissing her feels right. just like that one time you two kissed in the showers at stanford.

tashi pulls away. she feels your hands. your hands were warm. hers were a little cold now.

"decimate that bitch."

#challengers #challengers 2024 #challengers x reader #zendaya #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #tashi duncan x reader #x reader #female reader

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haydenigmatic · 1 year

Text

You are the King’s third child, a Princess/Prince third in line to the throne of the eight kingdoms,Third in line to the throne, you have nothing to worry about , well of course you have your lessons but not as extensive as your brothers because your older brother is the heir and even if something happened to him, there is your other big brother.

Maybe you will be a pawn for your father in a marriage alliance, However, who knows what the future holds, something or someone could ensure that your dynasty will be nothing more than dust and you will have to fight for the throne as the heir apparent, or maybe you won’t have to fight at all…

DEMO ✸ MOODBOARDS ✸ ASK ME ANYTHING YOU WANT ✸ FORUM ✸ PLAYLISTS ✸

RO's intro post: ✸ Aurelia/n✸Damon✸Doria/n✸Hanniel✸

✸ Jasira✸ Nesrin ✸ Odette ✸ Sorin ✸ Verena ✸

Play as a Princess/Prince of a powerful dynasty.

Variety of dialogue depending on your gender

Find love among nine characters of whom two are gender selectable

Manipulate, or genuinely care for your people

Bond with creatures that used to be extinct

Blurry the line between good and bad

Form alliances to win the crown

Do anything to survive at court

♢ Lady/Lord Aurelia/Aurelian Mezzei (She/her - He/him) 2 years older than MC

Aurelia/n is a proud and skilled adventurer with a free-spirited nature, always yearning for new experiences and the freedom of the open road. Beneath their composed exterior, they possess a kind heart and a rational mind, but can become a formidable force when provoked.

"The world is a tapestry, woven with threads of wonder and complexity. With each step, I strive to unravel its mysteries and add my own vibrant colors."

♢ Lady/Lord Doria/Dorian Muriel (She/her - He/him) 3 years older than MC

Doria/n is a complex and enigmatic individual, shrouded in a veil of cynicism and guardedness. Their ruthless actions and lack of remorse paint them as a hardened figure, while their hidden heart of gold and capacity for loyalty reveal a deeper layer beneath the surface. They navigate life with a cautious scepticism, harbouring deep-seated wounds and a relentless desire for self-preservation.

"There's no room for sentimentality or second chances in my life. Once you cross me, there's no going back."

♢ Hanniel (Connell) Almlinger (He/him) 4 years older than MC

Hanniel is a chivalrous and principled knight, driven by a strong sense of justice and an unwavering dedication to doing what is right. Despite the shame he feels as a bastard, he possesses a warm and compassionate heart, and his experiences have shaped him into a resilient and empathetic individual.

"The measure of a person's worth is not determined by their birthright, but by the content of their character."

♢ Lord Damon Lavone (He/him) 4 years older than MC

Damon is a charismatic and ambitious knight, driven by a relentless pursuit of glory and recognition. His privileged background as the heir to the second wealthiest man in The Eight Kingdoms, combined with his natural talent and captivating presence, has made him a captivating legend and a force to be reckoned with. Beneath his confident exterior lies a fiercely loyal and protective nature, willing to go to great lengths for the ones he loves.

"To be ordinary is a fate worse than death. I was destined for greatness, and I will leave my mark on this world. Remember my name, for it will be whispered in awe and reverence."

♢ Lady Jasira Oursbar (She/her) 2 years older than MC

Jasira is a fiercely independent and outspoken individual, unafraid to challenge societal expectations and fight for what she believes in. As the daughter of a northern duke, she defies the traditional role of a lady, embodying strength, determination, and a rebellious spirit. With a background rooted in nobility, Jasira carries a deep sense of loyalty and a strong connection to her heritage, guiding her actions and shaping her unwavering pursuit of justice.

"I'd rather live a life of freedom and danger than one of safety and confinement."

♢ Lady Nesrin Parovus (She/her) 1 year older than MC

Nesrin is a cunning and intelligent individual, skilled in the art of manipulation and strategic thinking. Born into nobility as the daughter of one of the seven dukes, she exudes grace and elegance while harbouring a hidden depth of ambition and determination. With her background of privilege and a mind shaped by political intrigue, Nesrin is a formidable force, always three steps ahead in the game of power.

"There's nothing more satisfying than outmaneuvering someone who thought they had the upper hand."

♢ Lady Odette Lavone (She/her) 1 year younger than MC

Odette is a compassionate and idealistic individual, driven by a strong sense of empathy and a desire for justice. With her noble background as the daughter of one of the seven dukes, she possesses elegance and grace, often regarded as the epitome of a court lady. Her genuine kindness and unwavering devotion make her a steadfast ally and a beacon of hope in a complex and sometimes treacherous world.

"Love is not just a fleeting emotion; it is a profound connection that binds us together. With each beat of my heart, I choose to love fiercely, fiercely enough to change the world."

♢ Sorin of Soirsa (She/her) 2 years older than MC

Sorin is a resilient and resourceful individual, shaped by a challenging past as an orphan and a former courtesan. With a guarded demeanour and an independent spirit, she navigates the world with a keen intellect and a knack for survival. Beneath her tough exterior lies a tender heart yearning for connection, a hidden vulnerability that only a select few are privileged to witness.

"Life may have dealt me a difficult hand, but I'll play it with audacious grace, turning adversity into art."

♢ Lady Verena Sarpe (She/her) Same age as MC

Verena is a captivating and ambitious noblewoman, known for her seductive allure and calculated strategies. Born into a distinguished family, she carries the weight of her tarnished reputation and navigates the intricate web of political power with cunning and determination. Behind her enchanting facade lies a complex soul yearning for genuine love, battling her own insecurities and the shadows of her past.

"Love is a delicate dance, and I have perfected the steps. But be warned, for the fire that burns within me is as treacherous as it is enchanting."

#interactive fiction #cog #if game #choice of games #interactive novel #if wip #interactive story #intro post #dashingdon #choicescript #hosted games #interactive game #romance #fantasy #medieval fantasy #IF #tbotd #cyoa #The Blood of the Dragon

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wcbblife · 4 months

Note

can I make a request for juju Watkins? Maybe her taking care of reader/her gf who is also her teammate after reader has a bad game? Thank you!

Juju taking care of reader after bad game!

a/n: hopefully I can dish out some more short stories like this for you guys

To say you were having a bad game would be a gross understatement. Nearly all your shots bounced off the rim, teasing you as they rolled around before falling into your opponent's hands. It felt like every attempt ended in the same frustrating result. You could only imagine how abysmal your shooting percentage was today.

Adding insult to injury, just after the second half started, you took an elbow to the face, causing your nose to bleed instantly. Despite this, your coach was adamant about keeping you in the game. This combination of factors spelled disaster, but apparently not to her.

Now, you were counting down the minutes until the end of this miserable game, eager to retreat to the locker room and remove the cotton pads shoved into your nose to stop the bleeding.

You felt terrible watching Juju carry the team on her back to secure the win for the Trojans. Normally, you two were a formidable duo, averaging impressive numbers against opponents. Yet today, you were practically invisible on the court.

“Hey! Listen to me!” Your coach yelled in the middle of the huddle. “Juju and Mack have done a great job securing the win for us, but that doesn't mean we can slack off! You need to start making some shots.” She turned to you, putting you on the spot. You tried your hardest to nod, tilting your head back as a staff member swapped out the blood-soaked cotton in your nose.

“Coach, I think you should put Kayla in. She's a hot mess right now,” Juju interjected, seeing you preoccupied with your own problems. “Just until the game ends.”

“Kayla's in foul trouble. One more and she's out.”

“She's bleeding,” Juju fired back, taking a big gulp of water. “She shouldn’t even be here.”

“Juju, we’re short on players,” your coach responded, scribbling something on the board.

“Then Kayla better not foul,” Juju said sharply, shooting a look towards the guard, who straightened up and nodded fervently. It was clear she had been waiting all game for a chance to play, and you weren’t going to stand in her way.

“Just do it,” you winced, tapping the hands of the medical staff who were inserting another cotton swab into your nose. You couldn’t believe it was still bleeding. “Put her in.”

“Alright,” your coach sighed, finishing her explanation of the play she wanted to run after the timeout. You relaxed, finally turning to face the staff.

The rest of the game flies by in a blur, your focus consumed by the throbbing pain in your head. You only realize it’s over when Juju comes to help you into the locker room, her strong arm around your waist.

“Thanks,” you mutter, sounding a bit nasal, as she sets you down on your designated bench.

Juju tilts your head towards her, examining your nose. “You might've broken it, babe.”

“I sure hope not,” you wince, gingerly touching the area. “Thanks for what you did back there.”

“Of course,” Juju says, sitting next to you and throwing her arm around your shoulder.

“And for carrying the load. I totally sucked today,” you chuckle.

“Don't even say that. It wasn’t your fault at all.”

“Yeah, except for me throwing bricks the entire first half. I don't even want to see the stat sheet,” you shiver just thinking about it.

Juju pulls you closer, “You're being too hard on yourself. Plus, it always feels good to be the hero,” she says, puffing out her chest with mock confidence.

“Right. Well, anyway—”

“Hey! You have media to take care of.” Suddenly, a staff member interrupts, practically separating you two. “Just you, Juju.

“I'll be right there,” she calls out, then turns to you. “Go ahead and ice that. We'll talk more when I get back.”

“Alright,” you nod, watching her go before turning to tend to your injury.

_____

It's not until you get on the bus that you finally get Juju all to yourself. She finds you in your usual spot, a familiar corner of the bus, and walks over with a loopy smile, sleepiness already starting to take over.

“Hey,” she calls softly, setting her bags down and taking a seat next to you. “Sorry I took so long.”

“I hate having to share you,” you joke, but you don’t miss the sigh that escapes Juju's lips.

“I know, babe.” She gently pulls your head to rest on her shoulder. “You need some rest though.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“I want to talk to you,” you insist, despite the fatigue weighing on you.

Juju cups your jaw, a bit awkwardly due to your position, but her touch is comforting. “I’ll sleep over,” she promises, her voice soft and reassuring.

That simple assurance is all it takes for your eyelids to grow heavy. You let yourself be lulled to sleep by the gentle hum of the bus engine, feeling the warmth of Juju’s presence beside you.

Juju’s hand strokes your hair lightly, a soothing rhythm that helps you relax even more. Her soft breathing, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and the warmth of her body next to yours provide a sense of peace you desperately needed after such a shitty game.

_____

“Gosh, I’m gonna look so bad tomorrow,” you wince, poking at your nose.

Juju shuffles in from the room next to the bathroom, her sleepy eyes locking with yours through the mirror. “Babe, you’ll be fine,” she assures you, handing over your toothbrush. She squeezes out some toothpaste before grabbing the other brush you always kept there for her, and does the same.

“What if it looks like a tomato?” you ask, staying motionless as you imagine the worst.

Juju finishes at the sink and wraps an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes in the mirror again. “I’ll help you ice it. But you have nothing to worry about. You’ll still look sexy to me,” she says with a loopy, pasty grin, pushing the toothbrush closer to your mouth.

“You promise?”

She nods, “Yup, but I really need you to brush your teeth.” You follow her lead, brushing until your breath feels minty fresh.

“C’mere,” she says, pulling you by the waist and guiding you both to the bed. Your bodies slot perfectly against each other, fitting together almost naturally. She pulls the blankets over you both, cocooning you in warmth.

Juju's fingers trace gentle patterns on your back as she speaks, her voice soft and soothing. “You know you’re being too hard on yourself. Today was just one game.”

You sigh, the day's stress beginning to melt away in her arms. “I know, it’s just… I hate feeling like I let everyone down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down. We win as a team, we lose as a team,” she reminds you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And besides, you’ve got me. Always.”

You close your eyes, feeling the comfort of her touch and the steady rhythm of her breathing.

“Let’s get some sleep,” she murmurs, her voice growing softer as she too begins to drift off.

You nod, snuggling closer and allowing the exhaustion to finally take over. The last thing you feel is Juju’s hands pulling you closer.

#wcbb #women's basketball #usc trojans #juju watkins x reader #juju watkins

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hookedonhuge · 10 months

Text

A Hard Challenger to Beat

Wednesday night was men-only at the small country town bar. Living in a remote area could get awfully boring at times, but boy’s night was a highlight for most of the men’s weeks. There was truly nothing like blowing off some steam with your pals after a hard day’s work. No hassles, no consequences, just dudes having fun.

One of the main attractions on Wednesday nights was the Beat Billy pool challenge. The challenge was simple: play Billy in a game of pool, if you lose you have to give him ten dollars, and if you win then you get a special reward.

What was the special reward? If you saw Billy in action, it wouldn’t take long to find out. Every Wednesday night you could find Billy bent over the pool table lining up for a shot, with his big butt sticking out and his jeans, stuffed with ten dollar notes, looking like they’re about to split.

Yep, the special reward was an all-expense paid trip down to pound town (also known as the last stall in the men’s bathroom) with the one and only, Bubble Butt Billy. It was a shame that Billy was the best darn pool player in that town and the next town over.

It was a lucrative business for Billy, who never once had to surrender his pride to another man. However, it was speculated that the Beat Billy challenge was more profitable for the bar than it was for Billy himself. The challenge drew large crowds of pent-up men, some, who in their lustful delusions, thought themselves skilled or lucky enough to earn themselves some quality time with Billy’s behind, and others, who were more financially conscious, would instead egg on their pals to give the challenge a go just for the chance to see Billy bend over the pool table a couple more times.

Without a fault, each Wednesday night would bring to the bar a rowdy crowd, despite how predictable the events of the night were. Billy would pocket a nice amount spending money at the expense of his hopeful challengers, and the patrons would get their fair share of Bubble Butt Billy action. Billy barely had to try against his challengers and was eager to play a game of pool against an actually formidable opponent, and on one Wednesday night he got exactly that.

It was a Wednesday night that seemed to be going the same as every other Wednesday before it. Billy had just defeated yet another challenger and was counting ten dollar bills with his signature cocky smirk painted across his face. “Anyone else want to challenge me?” he said, teasing his audience by leaning his upper body ever so slightly over the pool table.

“I will.” An unfamiliar voice boomed from the back of the room. Billy turned around to size up the stranger. Billy, who was never short of words to belittle his upcoming challengers, was silent. It wasn’t the stranger’s face that left Billy at a loss for words; his eyes hadn’t even gotten up that far. Billy’s gaze was stuck on the bulging mass that was tenting the stranger’s tight jeans. For the first time in a long while Billy remembered the consequences of losing the challenge, his mind trapped in thoughts of how his virgin hole would fare if he lost this one time.

“My eyes are up here buddy,” the stranger said in a playful tone, strutting towards Billy with an irresistible swagger. “Just teasin’ ya. The name’s Rick,” he said warmly, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “I’d like to challenge you to a game of pool. I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem.”

Billy snapped out of his daze and shook Rick’s hand. “You’re new around here, so I’ll have to warn you not to get your hopes up,” Billy said, building up his confident facade again. “I haven’t even been trying tonight.”

“I expect nothing but your best.” Rick was unfazed. “I’ll let you break.”

Billy picked up his cue stick and the white ball as Rick set up the rest of the balls to break. As he had done a hundred times before, Billy got ready to begin play, lining his cue stick up to hit the white ball as his butt pointed out towards the leering spectators. Usually, Billy was so quick in his play that his opponent’s wouldn’t have time to register that the match had started. That night, Billy wasn’t so fast to start.

The cause of Billy’s delay was his opponent, who was standing on the opposite side of the table with his crotch directly in Billy’s line of sight. Rick’s hands were on his waist and he leaned just a little bit back to accentuate his large package.

“All bark and no bite,” Billy muttered under his breath. Billy struck the white ball, which jetted in the group of remaining balls causing them to scatter. Not a single ball had been potted into one of the holes, which was unusual for Billy.

It was Rick’s turn and he grabbed one of the cue sticks from the rack. He stroked the long wooden stick with his powerful hand lewdly under the guise of surveying its quality. “You know where I’m from, they call me Thick Stick Rick,” he said to Billy as he walked past him, meeting Billy’s gaze with a wink.

Rick quickly potted two balls in a row with ease, putting Billy on the back foot. Billy countered with his renowned precision. He potted three balls in quick succession and set himself up for an easy put away with a fourth.

The white ball had rolled to the centre of the large table meaning that Billy had to lean over extra far to reach it, causing his two large cheeks to stretch his jean fabric to its limit. Billy, who had been able to regain focus in the match, was about to sink his ball into one of the pockets when he felt something large and hard brush up against his crack. He turned around to see Rick towering over his lower half.

“Hey, you have to win first before you can have any of that,” Billy snapped, audibly annoyed.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Rick said, feigning sincerity. “I just forget how big I am sometimes.”

Billy tried his best to brush off Rick’s comment and struck the white ball, but it clearly affected him as the ball he was aiming for, which was set up so well, bounced off the rim of the pocket and back towards the centre of the pool table. Billy swore under his breath; he never missed a shot like that.

“Don’t stress about it,” Rick said, placing his middle and index finger into one of the pockets. “These holes are so tight,” he wriggled his two fingers, “that these balls only just fit in.”

Rick’s innuendos had a marked effect on Billy, allowing Rick to even the scoreboard in spite of the vast difference in their skill levels. Each player now had one ball each to put away before they could go for the win by potting the eight ball. It was Billy’s turn and he was once again bent over the table, ass in the air, and lining up for a shot.

“Looking good Billy boy.” Rick chimed in as Billy was doing some practice shots in front of the white ball to check he had the right alignment.

“I don’t need you to help me with my alignment, I’m the expert… '' Billy trailed off as he realised Rick wasn’t commenting on his shot preparation. Instead, Rick’s eyes were glued to Billy’s famous butt.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just keeping my eyes on the prize,” Rick said, biting his bottom lip.

Billy tried to ignore Rick and went ahead with his shot. He managed to pot his final ball, but foolishly sunk the white ball as well. The crowd, who had fallen silent from the tension of the match, let out a gasp when Billy made this rare error.

Rick was able to sink his final ball as well, leaving the two in a race to pot the eight ball first for the win. Rick had no success on his first attempt as the eight ball was stuck in a tricky position. His comparative lack of experience showed as Rick was not careful enough to put the eight ball in a difficult position for his opponent to finish off.

All Billy needed to do was hit a straight shot from one end of the table to the other, which was easy for a player like himself. Rick, the schemer he was, was still not out of ideas. He moved himself behind the pocket Billy was planning to sink the eight ball into and started grinding his huge bulge against that corner pocket.

“How badly do you want to get into this hole, cause I want to get into this hole real bad,” Rick said with a slight grunt. Billy stayed silent. “It’s only a small hole Billy boy, it could be a real struggle to fit in.” Billy lined up his shot. “God Billy,” Rick’s voice turned low and rough as he took a step back from the table and squeezed his tightly wrapped manhood with his hand. “I’m a big boy, and I’m not even hard yet. You can’t even imagine the damage I could do to your bussy, or is that what you want? Have you been going easy on me on purpose Billy boy?”

Billy’s face was red from a mixture of anger and fear. He was sweating profusely and his hands were trembling. Billy drew his cue stick back then thrusted it forward with as much might as possible. The white ball rocketed into the eight ball which slammed into the pocket. In his desperation, Billy had struck the white ball far too hard and it followed the eight ball into the pocket.

Despair was the only thing that could describe Billy. Sinking the eight ball and fouling in the same shot was an automatic loss. The crowd knew this and roared with excitement. Thick Stick Rick was victorious.

Billy looked to the crowd, his eyes pleading for mercy. This was futile as the crowd, who had lost a lot of money over the years to Billy, were seeking retribution and Rick would deliver it.

“Rick! Rick! Thick Stick Rick!” the crowd chanted.

Rick approached the defeated Billy. “I ain’t gonna force you or nothin’ Billy boy, I ain’t like that,” Rick said, placing his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “But if you –”

“I’m a man of my word Rick. I couldn’t show my face in this town again if I didn’t go through with this.” Billy replied earnestly, not letting Rick finish.

“That’s the Bubble Butt Billy I’ve heard so much about. Now don’t you worry, Rick is gonna treat you real nice.” Rick gave Billy’s big butt a friendly smack.

The crowd’s chanting reached a climax as Billy and Rick walked into the men’s bathroom together. “Give ‘em hell Rick!” yelled a frenzied patron.

Soon, the bar fell into silence as the once raucous spectators listened suspensefully. At first there was no sound coming from the bathroom. After a little while a faint banging noise could be heard. It got louder and louder, until Billy’s moaning commenced. Billy reached a transcendent state, his shameless moans of pleasure filling up the bar and causing the pants of everyone in it to become a little more snug. Some opted to loosen their belts to relieve the pressure that was quickly building below.

“That son of a whore Billy is really enjoying this isn’t he?” commented one of the bargoers.

“Rick sure is a stallion!” remarked another.

“Billy won’t be able to walk properly for a week!”

“Don’t tell me Bubble Butt Billy lost on purpose!”

Rick and Billy’s erotic encounter culminated with a shared orgasmic roar that reverberated throughout the entire establishment. Rick, ever the gentlemen, offered to book a hotel room for the two of them for the night once he caught his breath back. All Billy could do was nod and collapse into Rick’s arms, his body completely exhausted.

“You’ve got a body that men like me dream about, Billy boy.” Rick kissed Billy on the forehand and proceeded to carry him out of the bar on his shoulders to a nearby hotel. There, Billy slept peacefully in Rick’s arms and Rick dozed off with his hands cupping Billy’s big cheeks.

#muscle butt #dump truck #gay fiction #gay story #gay bulge

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