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genshindsau · 26 days ago

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The Price of a Man

Summary: After decimating the army of another and acquiring more land under your growing rule, you take some time to look around. While walking around you come across the public punishment of a man from his wife. The image seems to linger within some of your own harem members and while you like to think you are not soft, you cannot bear seeing the strain on your own harem members' face and act accordingly.

Pairing: Imperial!Reader, Concubine!Characters. Hints of Reader x Diluc, Zhongli x reader. Kaveh x Reader. But there is not much romance in this piece.

CW: Reverse Harem, cursing, morally grey reader. Heavy descriptions of matriatchial settings, sexism aimed towards men. Mentions of killing, starting a fire, whipping (not by reader), punishments (not by reader), the selling of men, threats from reader but not towards harem members.

Notes: This doesn't have much romance to it as I tried to focus more on the plot and politics which was, no doubt, one of the hardest things to write. Dialogue may be choppy.

Bodies brush against one another, a small crowd forming in the front of an estate. Women look on with a mixture of disinterest or even amusement, lips quirking up. Soft, muffled sounds of voices that are only covered by the sound of rushing wind and the echoing crack of something landing on something, or rather someone.

It was only the men who looked uncomfortable by they don't move from their wife's side. Flinches leave some of them as if feeling the hit on their own skin; others have their head bowed, sympathy in their eyes though they would never disrupt. If someone is bold enough to hit someone in public it is because they have a high enough position to be overlooked. Or in other words, there will be no consequences.

Leather. You can tell just by the sound that comes from it. Most likely some kind of whip but the sound is muffled enough that you know it's not hitting directly on skin - not that it will help with the pain.

By the way you can hear the sound even with the conversations and loudness of children running around, you don't doubt that whoever is flicking the whip has more than enough strength in their arms to break skin even through clothes.

The view is hidden from you, not that you minded. You were more than happy to just walk right by, hardly giving another glance to see what was going on. Your feet pause only when the two figures you were walking with are no longer next to you.

A glance over your shoulder and Diluc stands still, eyes wide, mouth parted that reveals only the smallest sliver of his tongue that licks at his bottom lip. His body was perfectly still, only the small rise and fall of his chest visible under the red robes but his breaths were shorter than normal. Next to him, the smaller form of Xiao had his head bowed and turned away from the crowd. His jaw flexed, hands balled into fists at his side; knuckles whitening by the second, no doubt his nails are about to break through his skin.

You follow Diluc's gaze and by now the crowd opens up a little, allowing small peeks of what had drawn all the attention. You stare blankly at the male on his knees, hands poised on his lap. The figure's back was angled towards you, giving you a full view of the purple bruises that marred his skin. Yellowish specks of his skin peaks out from underneath the blooming red whip marks. All of this was visible to anyone's eyes due to the dark maroon robe that was pooled at his waist now; not allowing him to cover any of the marks.

The women standing above him made you let out your own sigh, rolling your eyes under the cloth wrapped around your head. The Ministry. You vaguely recognize her, she was in charge of retaining knowledge and long held secrets of the land. What was her name? You can't remember it but it hardly matters. You do remember that she was furious and bold enough to insult you. You had found it amusing at the time which seemed to infuriate her even more.

Your eyes linger on the blonde male kneeling on the ground, tears in his eyes that fell silently down his cheeks but he made no move to try and cover himself up or defend himself. Properly trained, you think wryly. Punished into obedience, you correct yourself.

You know the people of this land are still hesitant about your arrival. You had come in and nearly massacred more than half of their army. No need to cause more chaos by getting involved with someone the people look up to. The Ministry members are practically divine beings to the public, something that has made you snort and chuckle.

You don't spare another glance as you face forward again, Zhongli by your side as the both of you walk forward a few paces.

"Your grace." Your feet stop their movements, looking over your shoulder as you look at Diluc.

Even he appeared shock at his own interruption. His lips part before they quickly close again, not a single sound leaving him. His eyes flicker from you to the man kneeling on the floor before back to you. There is an echo of the whip landing on skin once again and Diluc winces as if he was the one hit.

He doesn't have to say anything. You can read him without any of your magic. A bleeding heart. No doubt he feels the pain of the other like it's own. He cares too much.

"You want to save him?" You face him His hands twitch at his side, fighting the urge to curl them into his robes. He doesn't reply though, head bowed.

"He is hardly the first to be given such a public punishment. He won't be the last either. Will you intervene?" Your words goad him even if you both know nothing will come of it. "What, or do you think I should intervene?"

Diluc's own expression drops; Xiao's pinches together as he stares up at you. Zhongli is the only one who looks on impassively.

"Sure," you roll your shoulders, hands clasped behind you. "I could if I wanted to but I don't. I intervene and all it does is lead to problems with the ministry. Problems that go beyond one single man being given a public lashing for a punishment. He is none of my concern and he is none of yours either."

"Your Grace," Diluc tries again, this time more firmly but he still wavers. His voice is soft but edged with something desperate. "Please..."

Your gaze flicks back to him, catching the way his head remains bowed, refusing to meet your eyes directly. He's trying, you know. Trying to speak out, unable to ignore such a scene of cruelty. It's amusing in its futility.

"You've grown bold," you murmur, stepping closer. Your tone is teasing, but your words make him flinch. "Tell me, what will you do? Give him your robe? Promise him it gets better?"

Diluc's lips part, trembling slightly as he struggles to form a response. Xiao shifts uneasily beside him, his own hands clenched into fists, but he doesn't speak out of turn.

"Your silence tells me enough." You step away again, your hands clasped loosely behind your back. The sound of another lash cuts through the air, and the man kneeling lets out a choked gasp.

Diluc flinches. Xiao glowers. You don't miss it.

"Zhongli," you say suddenly, your tone sharp enough to make your knight snap to attention. He steps forward immediately, bowing his head slightly in deference.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Take care of something for me," you say, your voice low, almost lazy. "I expect you to be swift."

Zhongli doesn't question you. He doesn't need any more information either. He nods once, his expression unreadable, before turning and walking away without a sound. Diluc and Xiao both glance after him but say nothing, their confusion carefully masked.

You turn back to the scene in front of you, your eyes falling on the ministry woman. She's standing tall, her expression hard, but there's a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes as she watches the punishment unfold.

It isn't long before the commotion begins. Shouts ring out from the direction of the ministry's archive, and the woman in charge stiffens, her eyes darting toward the source of the noise.

"Fire!" someone yells. "The archives are burning!"

The ministry woman curses under her breath, hitching her skirt up and turning to leave. She barks orders to the guards nearby, and soon the punishment is all but forgotten as chaos erupts. The crowd soon dissipates, not longer caring about the punishment. You hear questions about what happened but you don't pay attention to them.

Diluc remains still, hands fisting at the side of his robe despite the fact that it forms wrinkles in his usual pristine clothes. Both him and Xiao are staring up at the growing fire, eyes wide.

"You want to help because he's a man; sure, I understand. You've always had a bleeding heart but he is not the one you need to worry about. The ministry is powerful in these lands, admired. I could very well make a possible enemy of them all because you care far too much."

Your hand curls under Diluc's chin, fingers brushing his jawline as you direct his attention. "It will be your undoing, sweet boy." You whisper low enough for only him to hear. Perhaps your words are cruel but he needs to hear them. You need him to hear them, so that he knows what sympathy can do and it is not always good.

Diluc stares at you, his lips parted slightly as if he wants to speak, but he doesn't. He simply bows his head again, his shoulders trembling faintly with relief.

As Zhongli returns silently to your side, the faint scent of smoke clinging to him, you give him the barest nod of approval. He bows his head in acknowledgment, his expression as calm and composed as ever.

"The man's fate is paused but I doubt it will be the last punishment he faces, he is still bound to his wife."

The man is still kneeling on the ground. His body shakes, body trembling with pain. Without all the attention on him and the punishment looming over his head, he clutches at the robe laying around his hips, his fingers which are red and raw around his nails, tug the robe up and back over his shoulders. The red and purpling marks disappear from view.

"Let us go. Now."

The sound of water dripping fills your ears. The inn wasn't the most extravagant but it was on the outskirts of the land, far away from the ministry and any possible ears straining to learn secrets, something to provide the ministry with the power to kick you out of their land.

Your land now.

On a tatami mat, underneath a wooden gazebo, you gaze at the small pond with brightly colored koi-fish swimming around. Flowers were blooming around, providing a sweet scent in the air. One of your legs is bent at the knees, resting your foot on the ground with your elbow resting on your knee. The other is crossed on the ground in front of you. You take a sip from the small glass, savoring the bitter burn.

The soft brush of fabric gliding against the ground comes up from behind you. Diluc. You do not even need to turn to know. His footsteps were always soft, even, as if he puts a lot of thought into something as simple as walking properly. Well he probably was.

He bends down, settling on his knees adjacent to you on the other tatami mat. You glance at him. He was wearing his nighttime robe and his hair was out of his pristine updo, only pulled back into a ponytail with a few hairs dangling free. You fight the urge to push it behind his ear, tug out the updo, let it all fall and then use it to tug him….

You clear your throat, lowering your hand, placing you glass back on the floor. He refills it even though you didn't ask for him to.

"You're pouting," you muse out, voice level but deceptively blank. Well not exactly, but you know him well enough to know something was wrong. The way his eyes glaze out of focus as he becomes lost in the thought. His fingers that have become a slight pink due to him constantly wringing his hands together. The way his breath gets more labored when he falls too much into the depths of his mind.

He startles, placing the bottle back on the ground and then place his hands on his thighs. You watch as he takes a breath, fingers tapping against his robe. "Forgive me," he murmurs out, voice as soft and gentle as it ever is.

"I did what I could in my position," you shrug, downing the alcohol in the small glass before placing it to the side.

Could you have done more? Yes.

Would you have? No.

The only reason you intervened was because of how much it distressed Diluc and Xiao even if it wasn't as obvious in the latter. The poor man that was being punished is probably hurting more in the privacy of his wife's home. You don't tell Diluc this even though you know he suspects.

"I know," he answered.

He knows you were the reason for the fire. He doesn't address it, not openly because you don't seem to think too much of what you did. You hardly care about it so he decides it is best to just appreciate that you heard him out and did do something about it.

"I cannot get involved in every dispute or wife who punishes their husbands," you wave a hand, lazily explaining as you rest. "It is, by law, their prerogative. We are still the strangers in this nation. I am seen as the ones who massacred their families, tore down their infantry. How do you think it would appear if I came in and decided to alter everything, offer out punishments without any explanation."

You shake your head. It's already a mess with the Ministry pushing back against you. Trying to use sly tricks to get a one-up on you. Pity for them that you know all their tricks.

Diluc knows all of this. He knows. He also knows he shouldn't be causing you any problems. You were right in your words from earlier. He cares too much and he usually tries to push that need to care for others onto you or the other harem members. But when he sees it with his own eyes, the pain, the punishment, the humiliation that other women force onto their husbands, it's hard to forget.

He could have ended up like that. In the beginning of the marriage, he expected to. He expected to be demeaned, punished, used. He was taught to expect it all and bear it without a complaint, to do as his wife requires. He wouldn't say you were kind in the sense other people think about kindness. But you've never raised a hand to him that was meant to inflict pain. You never demeaned him, degraded him. Never let others either. He's treated better than he ever thought possible.

"I'm sorry," he says the only thing he can think of. His head lifts, even with your eyes covered, he knows your eyes meet his. He can feel it with the weight that encompasses him, the air feeling like it is pressing down on him but it's not stifling. It's comforting, like a weighted blanket.

"I know what I did was selfish and based entirely on my own feelings." He thinks back to the man. "I know he was just a single man but no one seemed to care. They all just… watched on," his voice dropped. "And he appeared to be in so much pain. I couldn't - I needed to do something."

But I didn't, he think. You were the one who stopped the man's pain at least for a short while. Diluc couldn't even bring himself to say something to you asides from pleading with you.

"You realize that I stopped nothing, correct? I am sure they will come to know that the fire was orchestrated by me, I'm sure they already think that," you snort, shaking your head. "They are looking for anything to undermine me and once they find even the slightest of a connection, they will not drop it. Especially not those damn Ministry fools."

Diluc's heart aches for numerous reason. The tension in your tone, the tiredness that he's learned to detect with the soft sighs that leave you after you speak. Also for the man, the bruises littering his skin, the wet cheeks, the idea that he could be in the process of being punished right now.

It is stupid. He didn't know the mans name. Didn't know his story but he is sure it was not easy. Yet this man continues to linger in his mind.

He knows he made it more challenging for you, something he never wanted to do. Not when you already have so much on your shoulders.

"I am aware, Your Grace." His voice is defeated. It makes your eye twitch. You roll your shoulders, keeping your gaze in front of you on the small pond.

"Then why must you look so despondent? Did you think a small gesture of kindness would do much in the long run," you shake your head. "Men in his position do not know kindness even if it’s a robe tossed over their shoulders or soft words meant to comfort them."

His eyes lower, face shifting, pinching in a way you know is meant to hold back the whirlwind of emotions inside of him. It leaves an uncomfortable tightening within your chest that you're not accustomed to. For a minute you wonder if it was the alcohol affecting you.

Gods, maybe you were becoming too soft. It is hard to even glance at his downturned face and not feel the need to go and burn down that which is causing him so much grief. It would be easy to. You know who and what is troubling him: two insignificant people in the grand scheme of things.

You've killed others for less. Some of the blood coating your hands comes from individuals who were foolish enough to aim a negative look or inappropriate words towards your harem members. What would be a few more? Though you know killing would cause more problems later on. Most of all, it would not cause Diluc to feel any better.

There is only one thing that will. One action that you really do not care to do but you may do just to stop Diluc's grief.

The negotiation hall was grand, adorned with tapestries of woven gold and deep crimson, but the air felt suffocatingly thick with protocol. You sat at the head of the long, polished table, an emblem of your power, your chin resting lightly on your hand. Beside you stood Zhongli, his impassive face betraying nothing.

Across from you sat Lady Samara, a high-ranking official from the Ministry, her deep emerald robes a testament to her wealth and influence. She sipped delicately from her glass of wine.

“You understand,” she said, her voice honeyed but laced with steel, “that Kaveh is not merely a possession but my husband. Breaking his vow to me would be... unconventional.”

Unconventional. A polite way of saying taboo. You smiled faintly, tilting your head just enough to make her falter. “And yet here we are,” you said, your tone smooth, almost bored. “The longer you delay, the more tempted I am to simply take what I want without regard for your ‘formalities.’ Name your terms."

She chuckled, leaning back in her chair as though she had the upper hand. “You misunderstand me, your grace. This isn’t about price alone. It’s about precedent. If I were to part with him, what would stop others from demanding the same? Vows such as these hold our society together.”

You allowed the silence to stretch, your gaze unwavering. Zhongli shifted slightly behind you, his presence a quiet reminder of your authority. “You forget,” you said at last, your voice soft but cutting, “that I am the precedent.”

Lady Samara stiffened, the tension in the room palpable. “Even so,” she said carefully, “Kaveh is a husband of noble standing. He is educated, refined, and capable in art and homecare. Releasing him from his bond with me will not come cheaply.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You reached for the goblet before you, sipping slowly before setting it down with a deliberate clink. You lean back, folding your hands neatly in your lap. "It appears as if your are the one who misunderstands. This is not a negotiation." The air in the room drops. "The price is a mere courtesy I am giving you. I could just as easily take him by decree if I so desired. The ministry may be a stronghold in this land but the land and all of its people and possession are now under my control."

You let out a sharp laugh, leaning forward, elbows braced on the table. You stare directly at her, watching as she suppressed a shudder even with your eyes covered by a cloth.

"I allowed your ministry to stay in place because I do not want to cause unnecessary riots among the people. But do not think that I will not tear it all down. You know as well as I do that no one would be able to stop me should it ever come down to this."

Her lips tightened, though she quickly masked her irritation with a practiced smile. Though you spot the slightest of wavering in her face at your threat that you made no move to hide. "Of course. But surely Your Grace recognizes the value of maintaining... goodwill, especially with one such as myself."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Goodwill, yes. But do not mistake my patience for obligation. Name your price." You repeat at what you said earlier but sharper, letting her know that you are growing bored and tired: a dangerous thing.

Her lips parted, but she hesitated. You could see the calculations racing through her mind. To name a price too high would risk your wrath. To name one too low would devalue her standing. Finally, she said, “Five estates. Three within the capital, two along the southern trade routes.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider her words, though you had already made up your mind.

“Done,” you said at last, your tone leaving no room for argument.

She blinked, caught off guard by your swift agreement. “And… and a formal decree,” she added hastily, grasping for more leverage. “One that acknowledges my contributions to this nation and ensures my continued influence within the ministry.”

You smirked. “Greedy, aren’t we?” But you nodded nonetheless. “You’ll have your decree. My scribes will prepare the documents by nightfall.”

Her relief was palpable, though she tried to mask it. Rising from her seat, she bowed stiffly, her hands trembling as she gripped her fan. “I thank you for your generosity, Your Grace. Kaveh is now yours."

Zhongli stepped closer once she was out of sight. “You were rather lenient with her.”

“I was fair,” you corrected, rising to your feet. “She thinks she’s won, but she knows the cost that comes with defying me. Besides, it may do good to have some kind of... business transactions with minsitry memebers. This may just yet get us through the door."

You gaze down at the man, his arms are folded, the sleeves of his robe hanging off his elbows revealing marks on his pale skin.

"Kaveh, was it?" You ask. "Just nod, I have no need to hear any long answer." You add on before he can speak.

He nodded, hair falling in front of his eyes which are lowered.

"I want to be clear." You step in front of him, a foot apart. "I am not doing this for you, nor because I have pity or any care for your former situation. I am merely bringing you in my harem because someone dear to me asked for you."

Kaveh's stomach lurched. Asked for him? It sounds like a proposition, one that men who sell their bodies or company would be asked for. Even with the churning of his stomach, the bile burning in his throat he does as he always does: nods and offer a submissive bow of his head.

You incline your head, turning around. "Come."

You lead him back to the carriages, remaining a few steps in front of him. You get to one of the carriages, pulling back the maroon cloth, so he can step inside. "You want to thank someone one, the person who managed to change the course of your fate is inside. Do show your proper appreciation." You hold out a hand to help him up.

Kaveh's eyes are warily looking between you and the opening of the carriage. His feet carry him to the opening, placing his own hand on top of your own, his other hand braces on the edge of the carriage as he steps up and into his new life

#genshin au #consort au #empress au #c:empress #genshin impact #genshin x reader #c:diluc #genshin impact x reader #c:kaveh #c:zhongli #kaveh x reader #diluc x reader

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midnightbears · 2 months ago

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✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: fighting. lots of fighting. wounds. mentions of pain. flashbacks. 'alluding' to prostitution.

#NOTES: i actually feel so weird for this chapter because not much happens (in a sense), but i can't stress enough how much i want you to feel the mc as an actual character instead of this just being a romance story, and i'm establishing this not only for you but also for myself! you will need to read the mc's character arcs and individual chapters, even if they're long or you might think are unnecessary. if you don't read them, you're going to miss out on crucial points of the story! character arcs for your mcs are essential! even when they're just y/n! y/n is still a character, and they need a good backstory and moments to flesh them out thoroughly. fanfiction should be made with as much love and care as a 'real' book would need to be. with my usual rant issued, enjoy <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

You remembered setting down the tiny bundle of belongings you carried, the meager possessions you owned neatly placed on the edge of your new berth, and your new pickaxe and hammer drill. You were still deciding where to put your things when the voice of who would be your new berthroom companion caught you off guard, breaking the silence like a sudden gust of wind.

“You can come out, my love. All is well.”

You had quizzingly looked at her after the words left her mouth, but you grew even more confused when you realized she was not looking your way. Instead, she was looking at the small locker at the end of her berth.

There was a hesitant creak, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. A small servo gripped the edge of the locker’s door, trembling slightly, and then a tiny figure peeked out—a sparkling, her frame barely more than a fragile outline against the dim light. She was almost painfully small, her light turquoise plating catching the faint glow in the room.

“Come here, my light,” Starlight called out gently, extending a servo in a welcoming gesture as she sat at the edge of her berth.

The sparkling hesitated, her optics flicking nervously between you and her carrier. Her whole frame trembled with uncertainty.

You tried to make yourself look smaller, less imposing, feeling your spark crumple and crush with sympathy and curiosity at the existence of such innocence in this hellhole. So many questions and doubts ran through your processor at a speed that even the most talented racers would be jealous of.

Then, with a deep vent that sounded almost like a sigh, the sparkling took a cautious step toward her carrier. And another. And another. Until she was close enough to be scooped up into her arms.

“There you are,” She said with a tender smile, gathering the sparkling to her chest as if she were the most precious thing in the universe. The little one buried her face against her mother's chassis, and you could hear the faint whirr of her tiny cooling fans as she snuggled close, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace. Her servo moved slowly up and down the sparkling’s back. “I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetie. You’re very brave, are you not?”

Suddenly, she looked at you.

“I’m glad they sent another femme, I wasn’t about to take chances with someone who wouldn’t understand what it’s like.” She said. Although her voice was steady and unembellished, an undercurrent of intensity ran through it—tender and fiercely protective, issuing a warning. You could sense that this caution wasn’t aimed at you, but rather at some shadowy threat that lingered just beyond reach. “If they’d sent a mech, I would have thrown him out myself.”

You blinked, taken aback by her straightforwardness. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your expression open and unthreatening. Your voice was a little hesitant, unsure of how to respond to her. “I... I’m glad I’m here too.”

“Good,” she said, a half smile on her lip components, her gaze not wavering. “Then we’ll get along just fine. I’m Starlight, this is Vaportrail... she’s my everything. And I won’t let anything—or anyone—hurt her.”

Her tone now had no softness, only a hard-edged determination that made your spark tighten. This wasn’t a carrier who would let her guard down easily, not for anyone, and certainly not for someone she didn’t trust. But there was a flicker of relief in her optics, a softening around the edges as if admitting that your presence didn’t feel like a threat was a victory all on its own.

Which, in a way, made you very sad.

You opened your dermas, unsure of what to say, but Starlight cut you off with a small smile, her laughing, purple optics seizing you. “Don’t take it personally. I’m just... careful. They don’t make it easy for femmes like us. Especially not for carriers. I’m not about to apologize for doing what I must to keep her safe.”

You nodded quickly. “I—I understand. I don’t want to intrude. I just... I didn’t realize you had a little one here.”

“No, it’s fine,” Starlight said, waving a servo dismissively but not loosening her hold on Vaportrail. “You’re here now, and that’s that. They didn’t exactly ask my opinion before sending you, but... you seem alright.” Her optics scanned you up and down like she was weighing you, judging if you were genuinely trustworthy. Whatever she saw, it made her relax a fraction. “We’ll see how it goes.”

There was a silence that felt heavier than it should, and Vaportrail shifted a little, peeking out from the safety of her carrier’s hold. Her optics were still wide and oscillating, but there was a flicker now, like the spark of a tinderbox, and you managed a tentative smile. It felt awkward and unsure, but it seemed the right move because Vaportrail didn’t look away.

Starlight’s expression softened again, just a little, as she glanced down at her daughter. She leaned in and murmured, “This is…” She looked back up at you precipitously, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

You told her your new designation, the new number of the H branch in Mining Outpost R–02. You’d need to get used to it, but it would be easy enough. The overseer of your branch had already taken to refer to you as simply ‘8’.

Starlight almost grimaced at your words but soon looked down at the sparkling. “This is H-08. She’s going to stay with us for a while.”

The sparkling didn’t respond, but she didn’t hide either, and you took that as a small victory.

Starlight turned her optics towards you, revealing the complexities within her gaze—gentleness intertwined with determination, a fierce sense of protection that nearly felt rebellious. Above all, you noticed a tentative hope. It was delicate, nearly fragile, resembling something seldom relied upon and sustained by pure resolve. It felt like she was challenging you, silently urging you to either validate her doubts or, maybe, to offer her a reason to believe.

“Just make yourself comfortable,” she said with a half-smirk. “But don’t go thinking you’re a guest. You’re part of this now. And if you’ll be here, you’ll do your part to keep her safe, too.”

You nodded, meeting her gaze with all the sincerity you could muster.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll do my best.”

You didn’t expect to follow Bluey’s advice that well.

Although you still felt anxious, there was one important lesson he ensured you understood, which was the primary reason you were managing to perform mediocrely well in the current match. Five simple words, but ones he made sure to drill into you, even at the cost of hearing him utter the sentence in your dreams.

“Always keep your head cool.”

The arena bore the scars of your prolonged clash—scorched craters, gouges in the walls, and the acrid tang of overheated metal. Across the battered expanse, your opponent circled behind a wall of waste metal. He was tall and bulky, his frame a juggernaut that had already tested your limits more than once.

A younger you might have faltered by now, let exhaustion or his relentless power shake your resolve. But this wasn’t then. You adjusted your stance, steadying your frame and keeping Bluey’s advice sharp in your processor. This wasn’t over yet.

“Let them think they’ve got the upper hand, then take it from them in one clean swoop.”

Your opponent grinned, baring sharp teeth, his optics gleaming with something dark and eager. He lunged toward you, hurling a heavy swing of his greatsword, too fast and keen for a clean kill.

Good. You could work with that.

You ducked low, slipping just out of reach. He lunged forward, his momentum betraying him as he faltered, thrown off balance for a fleeting moment. The crowd's uproar filled the air, their cheers rising in a mighty wave, drowning out all other sounds. Bright flashes of light erupted around you, glinting off your polished armor and that of your opponent, creating a dazzling display that danced in the periphery of your vision.

“Most mechs here don’t think before they swing. Let them come to you. Half the fight is watching them trip over themselves. They’ll do half the work if you let them.”

You let him close in again, his optics narrowing as he swung, aiming for your helm this time. A broad swing of his arm—you had seen it a dozen times in practice with Bluey by now. You sidestepped and his fist cut through space, too slow to catch you. The warhammer in your grasp seemed to flow into your movements, and you did not even feel its heaviness.

He cursed, stumbling again, his frustration evident as he recovered, his vents heaving. Bluey was right; your opponent wasn’t thinking, only reacting. And now, with him unbalanced, it was time to make your move.

"Think quick, strike quicker. You don’t need to go for a kill shot in friendly matches. Just hit them where it hurts.”

So you did. Darting forward, you aimed low with your weapon, catching him squarely in the side with a swift, well-placed jab to his knee joint. The impact reverberated through your frame, his armor giving way just enough for you to feel the shock of metal against metal. He staggered, his vents hissing in pain, and you took advantage of his faltering balance, pressing forward with another strike to his leg.

His frame buckled, his weight crashing to one knee as he tried and failed to push himself back up. His optics flared with rage as he swiped at you again, desperation taking over, but you were already out of reach, watching his movements with a clear, unclouded gaze.

"A calm mind’s your greatest weapon. Most fights end the second your opponent loses his cool. Hold onto yours, and you’ll outlast them every time.”

You watched as your opponent struggled, rage overtaking his features as he realized his momentum had failed him. He staggered back, clutching his damaged leg, his optics wild, searching for some way to turn the tide. But you were already moving, closing in before he could react. A quick swipe to his shoulder joint sent him stumbling back again, a desperate growl tearing from his vocalizer as his arm dropped, sparking where the wiring had split.

The crowd’s roars escalated, but for once, the noise didn’t faze you. You kept your focus on him, your field of vision narrowing down to this one mech and his dwindling options.

“A hit’s only as strong as the bot that lands it. Don’t go for flashy moves if a simple strike will do the job.”

So you didn’t. You kept it simple and calculated, landing a swift, final blow to his remaining arm joint. His frame shuddered, forced down by the impact as he slumped forward, defeated but still functional, vents whirring unevenly as he struggled to catch his breath.

You took a step back, exhaling as you held your stance, ready to react to any last-ditch effort he might make. But there was nothing—no fight left in him, just the slow, begrudging slump of a mech who knew he’d been bested.

Another one. You’d done it! Shifting your helm toward the other side of the arena, you glimpsed the opening that connected the arena to the Gladiators’ lobby, and you swore that behind the bars, you could see a pair of familiar ochre-pigmented optics looking at you.

Bluey was there too, flashing a cheerful, childish thumbs-up as a wide grin spread across his face. He mimicked a series of playful punches aimed at the air, then broke into applause, cheering you on with boundless enthusiasm. You did not mind it. It actually made you smile.

Just as you turned toward the exit, you were so close to doing so as you began taking the first step; a pair of guards came to haul the mech onto a stretcher, and one of them harshly gripped your shoulder, evoking a grunt from your voicebox.

“You’re not done.”

You wrenched yourself free from his hold but stared at him confusedly, “We were the last ones on the list for today.”

“Not anymore.” The other answered for his partner, staring intensely at you despite his visor. “There’s been a last-minute change for your matches.”

‘Bullway.’ You looked away with irritation in your features (never directed at them), which was answer enough for the pair of guards. They began carrying the wounded gladiator away, fighting the urge to stifle their laughs while the mech deliriously quaked about his pain.

With a languid motion, you allowed your shoulders to roll back, reclaiming your position at the heart of the arena. To entertain the multitude of cybertronians around you, you threw your arms wide above your helm, sending a ripple of exhilaration through the crowd, igniting a cacophony of cheers and shouts.

You gazed at them in mild, calculated satisfaction. In some manner, the audience determined the level of excitement in the fight, and you felt a sense of relief knowing it would be exceptionally some time before you started boring them, even if you felt disgusted by their entertainment.

Suddenly, the other gate opened.

He emerged from the shadows. You’d seen him before, though only in passing. You hadn’t paid much attention to him then; now, it was impossible to look away.

His frame was massive, and his armor was scarred from dozens of battles. The faint glow of his optics burned like embers, and the sharpness of his gaze cut through the haze of dust and noise that filled the arena. His steps were heavy and measured, the kind of stride that wasn’t rushed because it didn’t need to be.

He stopped in the center of the pit, his helm tilting slightly as his optics locked onto you.

“So,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, carrying easily over the noise. “This is what they’ve got for me today?”

You tightened your grip on your warhammer, your digits aching. He was assessing you. You could feel it—a predatory gaze that lingered just long enough for you to start overthinking. Still, you said nothing. Words were a distraction. Both Bluey and Megatronus made points about that.

He seemed to take your silence as an insult. His mouth pulled into a sharp grin that didn’t reach his optics.

“They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t they?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain, each word sharp as a dagger. “Sending me, Celsius, some nobody.”

Your helmet shifted slightly, and the question slipped from your dermas before you could rein in your need to make him angry. “Who?”

In an instant, the atmosphere around him transformed dramatically, thickening with an almost electric tension. It surged through him, coiling like a tightly wound spring just moments before it snapped, tight and expectant. The playful mockery that had once danced mischievously in his optics was snuffed out, leaving behind an unsettling void. In its place, a chilling darkness crept in, settling heavily over his features, distorting the lines of his face.

“‘Who?’” he repeated, his voice dropping to a growl. “You don’t know who I am?”

You stared at him, unflinching. “No.”

The crowd caught wind of the exchange, and a wave of laughter rippled through the stands. His frame stiffened, his optics narrowing as the noise grew louder.

“You’re funny,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t find it amusing. “That’s good. Keep that up—it’ll make this more entertaining.”

Without warning, he lunged.

For a mech his size, he moved with startling speed, closing the distance between you in a handful of strides. His fist came down like a hammer, a strike meant to pulverize. You twisted away just in time, his blow slamming into the ground with a force that sent tremors up through your stabilizers.

You darted back, your hammer raised defensively as you sized him up.

He was fast, yes, but his movements were heavy, over-committed. He fought like someone who had never needed to think about his strength—who had always relied on brute force to overpower his opponents.

“Stay still!” he barked, his voice sharp with irritation as he swung again, the arc of his arm slicing through the air.

You ducked, letting his momentum carry him past you.

“You’re wasting energy,” you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of it.

His growl was low and guttural, and when he turned back to you, his optics blazed with rage.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, I heard,” he said, his vents heaving. “Let’s see how smart it is when I’m done with you.”

He lunged at you once more, his movements becoming increasingly wild and unrestrained, each swing of his fists wide and erratic. You sidestepped, remembering the footwork Bluey had practically made you memorize. Your opponent wasn’t relying on his tactical knowledge; instead, he was fueled by a burning sense of pride. That pride, however, was proving to be his greatest weakness, as it blinded him to the precision and finesse with which you fought.

“Who trained you?” he sneered, his words cutting through the air like shrapnel. “Or did they just toss you in here to die?”

You didn’t answer. There was no point. Instead, you waited, watching for the next opening.

It came sooner than you expected.

He swung wide again, his arm sweeping out in a broad arc that left his side exposed. You stepped in, driving your hammer into the joint of his leg. The impact sent a jolt up your arms, and his armor buckled under the force. He staggered, a snarl tearing from his vocalizer as he struggled to stay upright.

“You’ll regret that,” he spat, his optics wild with fury.

Once again, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to.

He lunged again, his movements growing sloppier with each passing moment. His rage was blinding him, clouding his judgment. He was making mistakes, and you were ready to exploit them.

You darted around him, landing a blow on his shoulder joint. He cursed, the sound raw and guttural, as his arm dropped, sparking at the connection. His frame trembled with the effort of staying upright, his vents rattling like loose machinery.

“Fight me!” he roared, his voice cracking in frustration. “Stop running and fight me!”

You held your ground, your optics steady as you watched him. “I don’t need to fight you,” you said, your tone calm, almost detached. “You’re beating yourself.”

The words struck him like a physical blow. He froze, his optics wide with disbelief, before the rage returned in full force. He charged blindly, his movements a chaotic blur of desperation and fury.

You stepped aside, his momentum carrying him past you. Then, with one final swing, you brought your hammer down on his remaining shoulder joint.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground, his frame buckling under the weight of his arrogance. He lay there, his vents sputtering, his optics dimming as he struggled to lift himself.

You stood over him, your stance steady, your frame casting a shadow over his.

He looked up at you, his optics burning with hatred and humiliation.

“Who,” you said, your voice low, broken by your tired breaths between syllables, “are you supposed to be again?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, like a thunderclap, the crowd erupted. Their cheers and jeers mingled in a cacophony that reverberated through the arena walls, their voices rising in a frenzy. Some shouted your name; others hurled insults at the fallen gladiator. The noise was deafening, but you let it wash over you, standing tall as their energy rippled through the air.

Their way of letting you know: That was an excellent match.

You allowed yourself a glance upward toward the tiered stands. The Overseers’ box loomed above, a dark shape crowded with figures seated in detached luxury. A few of them nodded, the faintest inclinations of approval that barely registered against the clinking of energon cubes and muted laughter from their table.

Most weren’t even watching.

Your optics narrowed as you saw what held their attention. A courier had delivered a tower of tiny energon cubes to their table. One of the bosses reached out, plucking a cube from the precariously stacked pile with the same carelessness as a mech selecting a datapad. Another laughed as the tower wobbled but held its balance.

Your spark twisted violently in your chest.

They weren’t watching. After all the effort, after the pain and adrenaline, the gamble of your life against another’s... you weren’t even worth their attention.

A tower of energon cubes was upstaging you.

A surge of fury swelled in your core, hot and all-consuming. You acted before you could think, your frame moving on instinct alone. With a sharp pull, you wrenched a shoulder plate free from your defeated opponent’s armor, the battered piece of metal groaning as it came loose in your servo.

Then, you hurled the plating across the arena. It sliced through the air, the momentum carrying it in a deadly arc straight toward the Overseers’ box.

The piece struck the energon tower dead-center.

The cubes tumbled spectacularly, scattering across their table and clattering to the floor. Shouts of alarm erupted as some of the bosses scrambled back, some leaping from their seats as the impact sent their delicate drinks and datapads spilling across their laps.

The crowd gasped, the collective intake of air almost louder than their earlier cheers. A shocked silence fell over the pit, stretching taut and electric as every optic turned to you.

For a moment, you simply stood there, your plating heaving as the heat of your anger coursed through you. Then, you inclined the upper part of your frame—just a fraction, the gesture somewhere between mockery and defiance. Your optics locked onto the Overseers as if daring them to look away again.

When you finally turned, you saw that the arena gates had opened at some point, the path to the exit yawning before you. You walked toward it without hesitation, without awaiting dismissal, your pedsteps echoing in the stunned silence that followed you.

Behind you, the crowd erupted louder than before, their voices carrying an amalgamation of shock, awe, and delight. They weren’t just watching now—they were riveted.

An excellent match, indeed.

But as you crossed the threshold into the dim corridors beyond the pit, the noise faded into the distance, and you could feel the weight of the Overseers’ glares pressing against your back. For the first time, you were sure they were paying attention.

Good. Let them.

#midnightbears #transformers #transformers one #transformers x reader #transformers x you #megatron #megatron x you #megatronus x reader #megatronus #megatron x reader #cybertronian reader #d 16 x reader #d 16 x you #tf #orion pax #elita one #optimus prime

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jaeyunluvbot · 2 months ago

Text

i see the light

genre/tags ᯓᡣ𐭩 rosé x fem!reader, wlw, classmates to lovers, college au, LESBIAN YEARNING

word count 9.2k

NOT PROOFREAD

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

It was one of those days where the world felt a little too loud, a little too overwhelming. You sat at the back of the lecture hall, your attention drifting between the professor's voice and the window that offered a view of the bustling campus outside. College life was like this for you—quiet, distant, like you were an observer rather than a participant.

You were used to being in the background. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to make friends or be involved, but somehow you always felt like the odd one out. People would pair off, form cliques, and you'd be left to quietly observe, hoping to blend in without being noticed.

But then, there was her.

Park Chaeyoung. Roseanne. You'd heard her name countless times, always accompanied by admiration, awe, and the kind of casual reverence that came with being the most beautiful girl in any room. You’d seen her around campus, of course. It was impossible not to notice her—she had this effortless beauty that seemed to make everything else fade into the background. Blonde hair falling in soft waves, a gentle smile that was more captivating than anything you’d ever seen. She was always surrounded by a group of friends, laughing, the center of attention. She was everything you were not—carefree, charming, a little bit wild. The kind of person who didn’t just live life; she owned it.

Your heart skipped a beat when you caught her eyes for a moment. She smiled at someone near her, but you could swear for just a second, her gaze flicked over to you. You quickly turned your head, embarrassed for no real reason. You didn’t belong in her world.

"Y/N?" The professor’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, your name echoing through the room like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You froze.

“Y/N, Park Chaeyoung. You two are partners for the class project.”

Your stomach twisted, but your eyes immediately shot to her. She was sitting just a few rows ahead, looking back at you with an easy smile that made your heart do a flip. For a second, you couldn’t even remember how to breathe.

“Looks like we’re partners,” she said casually, as if it was no big deal. As if she hadn’t just made your heart race.

You blinked, trying to get your bearings. "Uh, yeah, I guess so." Your voice sounded smaller than you meant it to, and you cursed yourself for it. But Chaeyoung didn’t seem to mind. She just gave you that warm, relaxed smile that was somehow even more captivating when it was aimed at you. You could hardly focus on what was happening as you gathered your things.

As you walked to the desk beside hers, you tried to calm the rapid pace of your heartbeat, but it was hard. How could you focus on anything when she was sitting right there beside you, radiating a kind of effortless confidence you couldn’t even begin to replicate?

Chaeyoung barely seemed to notice your nervousness. She was already scribbling something on her notebook, her pencil moving quickly as she hummed a tune under her breath. It was a little like being in her own world, and you were just a part of it now, however small.

“So, what’s the plan?” She asked, leaning back in her chair as she glanced at you with that wide, open expression of hers. “We could totally just wing it, right? I mean, we don’t have to overthink this.”

You blinked. Was she serious? "Uh, yeah, sure, we can figure it out." You fumbled with your notes, trying to appear more composed than you felt. But Chaeyoung was so easygoing, so effortless. It almost made you feel like you were doing something wrong by taking things so seriously.

She shot you another easy smile, as though reading your hesitation. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m not one for doing things by the book. We’ll figure it out, yeah?” Her voice was light, playful, and her whole aura felt like someone who had mastered the art of living without stress.

You nodded, trying to suppress the small thrill that bubbled up in your chest. Somehow, it didn’t feel as intimidating as it should have, being partnered with someone as carefree. Instead, it felt like being pulled into her orbit, like maybe, for once, you could be a part of something without feeling like an outsider.

As the class progressed, you found yourself watching Chaeyoung more than you probably should have. There was something about her, her softness and kindness, something that drew you in completely. You couldn’t help but feel a little envious. How did she do it?

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, breaking your thoughts. “We should grab coffee later, yeah? It’ll help clear our heads, plus we can make an outline for our project.”

You nodded quickly, unsure of what to say. “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

And as she flashed you that smile, the kind that made everything feel just a little bit brighter, you realized you didn’t just admire her from afar anymore. You didn’t want to just watch her live life—you wanted to be a part of it.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and you gathered your things slowly, still trying to process everything that had just happened. Your mind was racing with a thousand thoughts, what if she found you weird, what if she thought you were annoying? Infinite negative outcomes flashed in and out of your mind.

As the other students packed up and streamed out of the room, you glanced at Chaeyoung. She was chatting with her friends, laughing easily at something one of them said. You couldn’t help but watch her from where you sat, admiring how effortlessly she fit into every conversation, her easy laughter filling the space around her.

But then, she waved goodbye to her friends and turned to face you.

"Bye guys, I’ll see you later!" she called before making her way toward you.

You felt a flutter in your chest, and for a moment, you almost forgot how to breathe. She walked up to you with that radiant smile of hers, the one that seemed to make everything else fade into the background. “Ready to grab that coffee?” she asked, her voice light and carefree.

You nodded, trying to keep your composure. "Yeah, let’s go."

As you walked side by side, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of your element. She was so... rosy—the kind of person who could brighten up the dullest of days with just her presence. Her energy was infectious, and every so often, she'd look at you and grin, her eyes sparkling as she talked about everything from her latest music project to her obsession with a new Netflix show. She was so open, so willing to share little pieces of her life with you.

You, on the other hand, were quieter, choosing to listen more than speak. But it felt natural, being with her. It was like you didn’t need to force anything. The conversation flowed, lighthearted and easy, as you walked to a small café just off campus.

When you arrived, Rosé immediately pulled you to a corner booth. “I’m in the mood for something sweet today,” she declared, scanning the menu. “Maybe a caramel latte? Or... ooh, the matcha cake looks incredible.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how enthusiastic she was about everything. Even ordering coffee was an event for her. You decided to go along with the flow, your nerves slowly easing as you became more comfortable in her company. It felt like you could forget about the project for a moment.

She leaned back in her seat, still talking animatedly, her hands moving in the air as she spoke. "You know, I’ve been wanting to do a big road trip with my friends for ages, but we keep getting caught up in all these schedules. It’s like the universe doesn’t want us to have fun or something. But yeah, I’m definitely taking a few weeks off to just go wherever the wind takes me. That sounds pretty amazing, don’t you think?"

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe as you listened to her. There was something about her free spirit, the way she didn’t let anything hold her back, that made your heart ache with admiration. You’d always been the type of person who stuck to routines, who followed the rules. The idea of doing something as spontaneous as a road trip—without a care in the world—seemed so foreign to you.

"That sounds… spontaneous," you murmured, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

She grinned, her eyes lighting up at the thought. “I know, right? Variety is the spice of life.”

You felt a warm flush rise to your cheeks at her suggestion. “Maybe… I’m not really good at... that stuff,” you said, half-laughing. “I tend to overthink everything.”

She raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Sounds like you need to let go a little. I’ll teach you how to do it. It’ll be fun!”

For a brief moment, you forgot about the project. You forgot about everything but the way Rosé made you feel in that moment: like you could breathe easy, like you could be yourself—whoever that was.

The barista arrived with your drinks, and you took a sip, savoring the warmth of the coffee as you listened to Rosé talk about her life. She was so alive, so full of energy, and you couldn’t help but admire the way she seemed to float through life without a care in the world.

After you both sip your drinks, Rosé leaned back in her seat, taking out her laptop and flipping it open. “Okay, so, for this project, I was thinking we could each tackle one part of the topic. You know, research different branches and then just compile everything into one big document? We’ll do the presentation later,” she suggested, her eyes lighting up as she typed out some notes.

You nodded, still feeling the flutter in your stomach as she casually mapped out the plan for the project. It’s just a project, you reminded yourself. You’re just working together, that’s all.

“Sounds like a good plan,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rosé smiled, clearly pleased with herself. “Great. So, I’ll take the psychological theories part, and you can do the case studies and real-world applications? I feel like that would balance everything out nicely.”

You agreed, already thinking of how to break the research down. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll start looking into it tonight.”

She paused for a moment, her expression shifting slightly, before she grabbed her phone from the table. “Oh, here,” she said, typing something quickly before sliding the phone toward you. “Put your number in. That way, we can share anything we find and keep track of the project together.”

You blinked, feeling your heart skip a beat as you hesitated for a second. She wanted you to text her. Of course, it was only for the project, but you felt happy she was comfortable sharing it with you.

Taking a deep breath, you typed out your number and handed the phone back. Chaeyoung flashed you a warm smile as she quickly saved your number under your name. “Awesome. I’ll text you later, and we can get the ball rolling.”

You smiled back, a little awkwardly. "Sounds good. I'll start on my part tonight."

With that, you both stood up and walked out of the café, heading toward the campus exits. Rosé waved her hand, her usual carefree energy radiating off her. “Bye, Y/N! Talk to you soon!”

“See you,” you replied, watching as she disappeared into the crowd of students.

You stood there for a moment, just watching her go, your mind still trying to process everything that had just happened. You had just spent an entire afternoon with Park Chaeyoung, a person you admired from afar, and now, you were going to be working with her for the next few weeks. What was happening?

Your thoughts spiraled for a moment, and just as you started to calm down, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out quickly and saw that Rosé had already texted you. Hey, Y/N, just making sure you got my number! Let me know if you need anything. <3 Have a good rest of the day!

Your heart did a little somersault as you read the message. Oh my god. She texted me. She’s texting me.

The sudden pressure to keep things cool hit you, and you were momentarily frozen. What were you supposed to say? It was just a text, but this felt different. You stared at the message for what felt like forever, unsure how to respond.

In the end, you simply typed back: Got it! I’ll start working on my part soon. Talk soon!

You let out a shaky breath as you put your phone away, your mind still racing.

You walked slowly across campus, trying to calm your nerves, but the more you thought about it, the more you started to feel overwhelmed. This wasn’t just any project. This was with her.

You needed someone to vent to, someone who could talk you down from this. So, you decided to meet up with Mina, one of your few friends who somehow always seemed to know how to calm you down when you were in a spiral.

Mina was already waiting for you at your usual hangout spot—a quiet bench under a tree, where you two would talk about everything and anything. When you saw her, you practically collapsed onto the seat next to her.

“What’s wrong?” Mina asked, her eyebrow raised as she looked at you. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

“I am about to explode!” you said dramatically, burying your face in your hands. “Mina, I... I can’t do this. I can’t work with her. I mean, Chaeyoung. Park Chaeyoung. She’s amazing. She’s gorgeous, and she’s so... out of my league. And I’m just this random girl who... who...” You stopped, unable to find the right words to express how you were feeling.

Mina listened patiently, waiting for you to finish your rant. “And now she’s texting me,” you continued, voice muffled as you stared at your shoes. “She’s texting me, and I don’t know what to say to her, or what to do, and I just—ugh—I’m so embarrassed. What if she thinks I’m weird? What if I mess everything up? What if... I don’t even know...”

Mia let out a soft chuckle and then nudged your shoulder. “Okay, slow down. You’re making it sound like you’re about to go on a date with her, not just... work on a project.”

“I know, but it feels like more than that,” you muttered. “It feels like everything is spiraling out of control. She’s so... I don’t know, cool, and I’m just... me.”

Mina laughed again, shaking her head. “Y/N, you’re overthinking this. You’re both working on a project, that’s it. Just treat her like any other partner. Yeah, maybe she’s a little out of your comfort zone, but that doesn’t mean you have to be some perfect version of yourself. Just be you. Trust me, people like her are drawn to people who are real.”

You exhaled slowly, processing what Mia said. “I don’t know if I can be just me around her. I feel like I’m going to mess it up, like I’m going to say something stupid, and she’s going to hate me.”

Mina shrugged casually. “Hey, you’ll never know until you try. But I’m pretty sure that if she’s texting you this much already, she doesn’t think you’re a loser or anything. Just relax.”

You let out a deep breath, feeling a little lighter as the tension eased from your shoulders. Mina was right. You couldn’t keep worrying about it. Chaeyoung wasn’t some unreachable, perfect person. She was just someone you had to work with on a project. And maybe—just maybe—she didn’t think you were a loser.

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “I’ll try. I’ll just... keep it cool.”

Mina grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now, get your head in the game, and text her back like a pro.”

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

Over the next few days, you threw yourself into the research for the project. You didn’t want to mess up this assignment, knowing it was a pretty significant chunk of your grade, so you made sure to organize everything perfectly. Each section was neatly labeled, each study and case tied together with clear, concise explanations. You found yourself getting lost in the details of the case studies, noting down all the important points and structuring your part in a way that would be easy for you both to reference later.

By the time you were done, your section was an impressive masterpiece—everything neatly formatted and color-coded, each page looking like it belonged in a textbook. You could already picture the final product of the document in your mind, a perfect combination of information that would help both of you breeze through the presentation. It was... so you. Everything was planned down to the tiniest detail.

After finishing your part, you decided to take a break and check in on the progress Chaeyoung had made. You’d agreed to share the document once both of you had worked on your sections, so you scroll up to her part of the doc. When you clicked on it, you were hit with a wave of... chaos.

Her section was filled with bullet points and random notes, entire paragraphs of thoughts jumbled together without any organization or structure. There were charts and references scattered around, and the whole page felt like a whirlwind of information. You stared at it for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. It didn’t look like anything was connected in a logical way, and there were no headers or subsections to break up the ideas.

And yet, somehow... it was charming.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a small laugh. Of course, this is how she’d do it. Chaeyoung, the girl who always seemed to live life in the moment, had let her schoolwork reflect her carefree, spontaneous personality. She didn’t need to follow some rigid structure to get the information across—she just put everything out there, no filter, no planning. It was almost like she was throwing the pieces together and hoping it would make sense in the end. And for some reason, that just made you smile.

You carefully clicked through her notes, sorting through the clutter and trying to make sense of everything. It wasn’t hard to pick out the important bits; despite the chaotic format, everything was still there—just in her own way. You could tell she hadn’t put as much time into making it look neat as you had, but that was part of her charm. Chaeyoung didn’t seem to care about the little details as much as she cared about the big picture.

How can she make even her disorganized notes seem... endearing?

With a soft sigh, you set about organizing her work. You didn’t want to change her style entirely, but you figured you could at least help make it more readable. After all, you’d promised to work together on this. As you cut and pasted pieces of her thoughts into more manageable sections, you found yourself smiling. It was almost like you were piecing together a jigsaw puzzle—putting the pieces of her personality together, making sense of the chaos.

Once you had everything sorted, you texted her.

Hey, I worked through your section and organized it a bit. You’ve got some great info here, but I thought it might be easier to present if we split it into a few more clear sections. Lmk what you think!

You sent the message with a nervous little smile, unsure of how she’d respond. You didn’t want her to think you were criticizing her; you just thought a little structure would make everything easier.

As you waited for her reply, you couldn’t help but think about how different you both were. Where you were meticulous and detailed, Chaeyoung was relaxed and spontaneous. And while that used to make you nervous, now you found yourself growing more and more fascinated by her. She was so free—living in a way that you never could. You admired her for it, even if you were still unsure how to balance your own quiet, organized life with her loud, unpredictable energy.

A few minutes later, her text pinged back:

Thanks for fixing it! I was kind of all over the place with it, huh? Haha, I guess that’s just how I work. I really appreciate you cleaning it up, though. Let’s make this project amazing, yeah?

You couldn’t help but feel a warm rush of happiness. She wasn’t upset at all—just as chill as ever. And as you thought about it, you realized you liked the way she worked. Even if it wasn’t as “perfect” as your approach, there was something raw and real about it.

Of course! You’ve got some really great points here. I think we’re going to make a great team.

You smiled to yourself as you sent the text.

Despite the differences in how you approached everything, you were starting to realize that maybe that was what made you two work together so well. You brought the structure, and she brought the soul. And together, you’d create something that would shine in its own unique way.

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

Time passed in a blur of research and collaboration. You and Chaeyoung continued to meet up to work on the project, but each time, the sessions seemed to get more and more relaxed. It was almost like you two had settled into a rhythm—your organized approach to the work meshing with her spontaneous personality in ways you didn’t expect.

The library became your usual spot for study sessions. But as soon as you sat down to get started, Chaeyoung would look over at you with a soft grin and pull out her phone.

"I can't study in silence," she said, tapping away at her screen. "Want to listen to something?"

Before you could even reply, she popped in one AirPod and held out the other to you. You hesitated, then took it, feeling a little awkward as you adjusted it in your ear.

She grinned as she tapped her phone, and suddenly, soft guitar strums filled your ears. It was one of her favorite songs, you could tell by how she hummed along, her fingers tapping on the desk in time with the rhythm.

You felt the tension in your shoulders ease a little. You had been focused on organizing the notes, trying to get everything perfect, but this... this was different. The music helped fill the silence, made everything feel a bit more comfortable.

Chaeyoung glanced over at you, her eyes lighting up as you started to nod along to the beat. "I swear, this is the only way I can focus. Otherwise, my brain is all over the place," she said, a little laugh escaping her lips. "I’ll get into something for like ten minutes, and then I need a break. How about we take a five-minute break after we finish this paragraph?"

You chuckled, shaking your head, but you couldn’t deny the small part of you that liked the idea. Chaeyoung’s energy was infectious, and despite yourself, you were starting to look forward to the study sessions more and more—not for the project, but because they were turning into something... else.

The two of you were both sitting in the library again, but this time, Chaeyoung pulled up her Spotify playlist before she even took out her textbooks. "Ughhhh, I swear, I have the worst attention span," she sighed dramatically. "Let's make this quick. If we finish these notes in the next hour, we can watch a movie."

You couldn’t help but smile at how casual she was about everything. "I thought we were supposed to be working, not binge-watching Netflix," you teased, but Chaeyoung just shrugged, tapping at her screen.

“Can’t help it if I get distracted. You could always join me," she said with a playful wink. "It’ll make studying so much more fun. Also, we’ll definitely watch something on Disney +, so don’t worry"

It was tempting, but you managed to refocus, working through the next set of notes and organizing everything on your laptop. Every so often, you glanced at Chaeyoung, watching her quietly while she added more of her thoughts to the project.

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

But soon enough, the work stopped being the main event. Chaeyoung would pull up a movie, or start humming along to another song, or even force you to look at memes she found online, asking if you agreed with her ridiculous opinions.

One day, after you had spent hours working together, you were both sprawled out on the library couches, staring up at the ceiling. You felt completely unproductive, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Chaeyoung had started a random playlist and was singing along to one of the tracks.

"Do you like this song?" she asked, not even bothering to check if you were listening, her voice light and playful.

You nodded. "Yeah, it’s great."

"See, I knew you'd like it," Chaeyoung grinned, practically glowing with that carefree, confident energy that you admired. “Music is like... everything to me. I feel like it’s the one thing that always keeps me grounded. You should listen to more of it. I’ll send you a playlist or something.”

Her words made you pause. Somehow, she always managed to say something that would fluster you more and more. Offering to make you a playlist may have been a small, friendly gesture on her end, but to you it signified something more, like she truly wanted you to approve of her music taste.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that," you said quietly, feeling the warmth of her easy confidence spreading to you. Maybe you didn’t have to be as serious all the time. Maybe... you could loosen up a little too.

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

The next session, Chaeyoung pulled out her phone again, but this time, instead of music, she pulled up a random movie trailer. “We should totally watch this next time. What do you think?” she asked.

You laughed, looking up at her, the lines between study and play blurring even more. "You’re impossible," you teased, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"I prefer 'fun,'" she grinned back, clearly satisfied with herself.

“Maybe we can schedule a time for us to watch the movie, and save our study sessions for actually working.”

She smiles at this, a beautiful, rare sort of smile that you’d be lucky to see once in your lifetime. How you got blessed with being able to see it multiple times a week, you have no idea.

“Deal.” She says playfully sticking her hand out towards you, “shake on it.”

You smile softly and grab her hand, laughing as she shakes it vigorously.

It was a few days later when Chaeyoung sent you a message that made you pause.

Hey, let’s hang out this weekend. I promise we won’t talk about the project at all, just watch a movie. No work allowed.

You’d been feeling a little more comfortable around her lately, your study sessions slowly turning into easygoing hangouts. You’d even started looking forward to spending time with her, but the thought of taking a break from the project completely felt like a risk.

You hadn’t really hung out with her outside of those study sessions yet, and you weren’t sure if it would feel awkward, or if you’d just be staring at each other in silence like two strangers.

But when Chaeyoung followed up with a few details, you couldn’t resist.

I have a huge TV and the most amazing couch. You’ll love it. Just you, me, and zero work. What do you think?

You bit your lip, glancing at the message again. There was something about the idea of spending time with her in a more relaxed setting that made you nervous—but also excited.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d spent an entire evening just… hanging out with someone other than Mina. You figured it would be good to do something without planning it for once, so you agree.

Okay, I’m in. What time?

Chaeyoung’s response was immediate.

7 pm. I’ll send you my address. Bring snacks, or I’ll eat all the popcorn.

It was decided.

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

You paced back and forth in your apartment, holding your phone in one hand while you rifled through your closet with the other. Mina’s voice echoed through your earbuds, sounding way too calm for the panic you were feeling.

“Y/N, chill out. It’s just a movie. You don’t need to look perfect. Just wear something casual,” she said, as if she had all the time in the world to give advice.

“I know, but I don’t want to look like a mess. I can’t just show up at her apartment looking like I just rolled out of bed,” you replied, glancing at the pile of clothes on your bed in frustration. You were overthinking everything, but how could you not? It was Chaeyoung. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

“Trust me, she’ll like you no matter what. You know she’s all about vibes, not looking like you stepped out of a magazine cover. Relax.”

You sighed, taking a deep breath and nodding, though Mina couldn’t see it. “Right… okay, casual, got it.”

After a few more minutes of internal struggle, you settled on a soft pink sweater and leggings—comfort over style, but still cute enough to feel confident. You quickly pulled your hair into a loose bun, and after a little experimenting, opted for a light makeup look with just some concealer and mascara. You were trying to get this right, but part of you kept thinking about how Chaeyoung would look—she always had that effortlessly chic vibe, even when she was just lounging around.

Once you were ready, you grabbed your keys, checked your phone for Chaeyoung’s address, and headed out the door. But before you left, you made a pit stop at the store to grab a few snacks. You weren’t entirely sure what Chaeyoung liked, but you remembered her mentioning that she loved sweets, so you decided to grab some things you thought she’d like as well as a few personal favorites.

When you reached Chaeyoung’s apartment, your nerves were back, but they were a lot lighter than before. You knocked on the door, and after a few seconds, it swung open, revealing Chaeyoung in the cutest matching pajama set you’d ever seen. The soft pink fabric looked cozy and just… her. Her hair was in a messy braid and she had this casual, laid-back vibe that immediately put you at ease.

“Oh my god, pink is my favorite color too!” She’d exclaimed as she saw your outfit, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “I swear, we’re like twins.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I guess we are. You look so comfy! I almost wish I wore pajamas, too.”

She laughed and stepped aside to let you in, and you immediately felt at home in her space. “You can totally change if you want. I have extra pajamas lying around somewhere.”

You shook your head, laughing. “It’s alright. I’m good. I like this outfit.”

Chaeyoung grinned and waved you over to the couch. “Perfect. Let’s get this movie night started!”

You followed her to the living room, setting down the snacks you brought on the coffee table. The giant TV was already on, the dim lighting from the lamps creating a cozy atmosphere that made everything feel casual and intimate. You found it surprisingly easy to just… relax.

“So, what are we watching?” you asked, curious but also excited to see what she’d picked.

Chaeyoung clicked the remote a few times, finally stopping on Tangled. “I know, I know, it’s kind of a kid’s movie, but it’s cute! And I’ve been wanting to watch it again.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Tangled was one of your absolute favorite movies. You couldn’t believe Chaeyoung had picked it—especially since she didn’t know it was one of your favorites.

“I love Tangled,” you said, your voice a little more excited than you meant it to be. “I’ve watched it like a hundred times.”

Chaeyoung’s eyes widened, and she smiled in that way that made your heart race a little. “Really? No way. Looks like we’re even more alike than I thought.”

You both settled into the couch, Chaeyoung pulling the blanket over both of you and casually tossing a few snacks your way. She picked up the remote and pressed play, and the movie started.

It was just as magical as you remembered, and watching it with Chaeyoung made it even better. She was so animated, laughing at all the right parts, singing along to the songs, and playfully nudging you when something cute happened. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling yourself get lost in the joy of it all. You were no longer worrying about what to say or how to act—this was easy. This was fun.

As the movie went on, you found yourself more and more caught up in the moment, laughing at the jokes, enjoying the familiar scenes, and letting the tension of the week slip away. You and Chaeyoung had somehow fallen into this rhythm, both of you comfortable and happy in the shared space.

When the movie ended, you were surprised at how quickly time had passed. Chaeyoung sighed contentedly, stretching out on the couch. “That was so fun. I forgot how much I love this movie. Thanks for coming over.”

You smiled, not wanting to leave just yet. “I had a great time. Seriously, I’m so glad you picked this.”

Chaeyoung turned to face you, her expression softening as she looked at you. “I’m glad you liked it. Honestly, I feel like I can really be myself around you. It’s just… easy, you know?”

You felt your heart flutter at her words, unsure if she realized how much they meant. “Yeah, it’s easy with you too.”

The two of you sat in the cozy silence for a moment, and you couldn’t help but think that this night was one you’d never forget. Not just because of the movie or the snacks, but because of the way you felt so comfortable with her, so… at peace.

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

After that night, the two of you find yourselves texting more than usual. It’s not just about the project anymore—there are inside jokes, memes, and spontaneous conversations about random things. Every message feels easy and exciting, like you’re learning more about each other every day.

A few days later, as you’re working on the next part of the project together at a coffee shop, Chaeyoung casually drops the question.

“So… wanna hang out again this weekend?” she asks, her voice casual, but there’s a little sparkle in her eyes that makes your heart beat faster.

You look up from your notes, a little caught off guard. “Hang out? Like, no project stuff?”

“Exactly,” Chaeyoung says with a grin, “No project, just… us. Maybe we can go shopping, or get food, whatever. Anything is fun with you, you know?”

Your mind races for a moment. You didn’t expect her to want to spend more time together outside of schoolwork. But the idea of hanging out with her again, without the pressure of a project looming over your heads, excites you.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say before you can second-guess yourself. “We can try that new bakery that just opened down the street.”

Chaeyoung’s face lights up, and she nods eagerly. “That sounds perfect! I’ll text you the details later?”

“Definitely,” you agree, already feeling your pulse quicken at the thought of seeing her again.

Your hangouts with Chaeyoung become more frequent as the semester goes on. They start off as casual—going to coffee shops, watching movies, and trying new food spots. But as time goes on, the conversations deepen. It’s not just about school anymore; it’s about life, dreams, and the little things that make you both who you are.

You start noticing more details about Chaeyoung. How her eyes light up when she talks about something she’s passionate about. How she’s surprisingly quiet when she’s lost in thought. How she seems to always find the best places to go, like she knows exactly where to go for the best chocolate cake or the most peaceful park.

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

One day, the weather had been gorgeous, so the two of you had decided to take a walk. And you end up talking about your favorite childhood memories. Chaeyoung tells you about her rebellious teenage years, when she would sneak out to meet friends and do things that would’ve given her parents heart attacks.

“You were a troublemaker?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you glance at her.

Chaeyoung shrugs, grinning mischievously. “Maybe just a little. What about you? Were you the goody-two-shoes type?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Definitely. I was way too scared of getting into trouble. I still am, honestly.”

“Well, that’s kind of cute,” Chaeyoung says, her voice low and teasing, a playful glint in her eye.

Your heart skips a beat. You’re not sure if it’s just the way she’s looking at you, or if it’s the words themselves, but you suddenly feel very aware of how close you two are.

Before you can respond, she nudges you with her shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to be a rebel like me. I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment, and you can’t tell if she’s being playful or if there’s something deeper behind it. Either way, you feel something warm blooming inside you, and for the first time, you wonder if she’s flirting with you… or if it’s just her way of being sweet.

Then she speaks again, her voice unusually quiet. “I really like spending time with you, Y/N. You make everything feel so… simple, you know?”

You feel a warmth spread through you at her words, and the moment feels charged with something you can’t quite place.

“I like it, too,” you say, your voice quieter than you expect. You both stand there for a moment, the city lights casting a soft glow around you.

Chaeyoung looks at you, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual, and you feel a shift in the air between you. Something unspoken, something new.

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

The project is finally finished, early even, and you're feeling a mix of relief and lingering nervousness. As you submit the final presentation, a strange thought creeps into your mind: Will Chaeyoung stop hanging out with me now?

You try to brush it off, but the worry lingers in the back of your mind. The project was the excuse, the reason for you to spend so much time together. And now that it's over, what will happen? Will you still see her as much? Will everything go back to being... ordinary?

You try not to dwell on it, though, and when Chaeyoung texts you about meeting up for a movie afternoon after a shopping trip, you're excited, but also a little nervous.

The two of you had gone shopping for some new clothes—mostly for fun, but also because you needed a few new things. You ended up trying on outfits and laughing at how bad some of them looked, and Chaeyoung teasing you the entire time. It was lighthearted, and you couldn't remember the last time you had this much fun on a shopping trip.

After getting some snacks and drinks, you both make your way back to her apartment, where she insists on putting on a rom-com.

"Okay, but seriously, every character in these movies reminds me of you," Chaeyoung says, glancing over at you with a grin. "Like, you’re so cute, but also a little clueless about the world around you. You make things harder than they need to be, but you’re still super loveable."

You laugh, pushing her shoulder lightly. "Am I really that bad?"

Chaeyoung just smirks, "Maybe a little."

As the movie progresses, she keeps pointing out things that remind her of you—whether it’s the quirky way you react to a situation or the innocent, “too nice for your own good” attitude you tend to have. You find it all endearing, but it also makes your heart race a little bit.

Halfway through the movie, she suddenly stretches out, letting out a long yawn. "Ugh, I’m so tired after all that shopping," she says, her eyes half-lidded. "Do you want to take a nap? I’m sure the movie can wait."

You hesitate for a moment. It’s tempting to just curl up on the couch and relax, but you look down at your outfit—a cute sweater and jeans—and wince. "I don’t know... my clothes aren’t the comfiest for napping."

Chaeyoung’s eyes immediately sparkle, and she grins. "No worries! I’ve got you covered." She runs to her bedroom, opening a drawer and fishes out a set of cute, soft pajamas before excitedly rushing back into the living room. “Here, you can wear these. They’re the softest things ever.”

You stare at the pajamas for a second, your heart beating a little faster. She just so casually hands them over, like it’s no big deal. When you look at her, she’s already changing into a matching set.

Your stomach does a little flip as you head to the bathroom to change. You can’t help but notice that the both of you are matching, something that makes your heart race a little more than it should. It was totally normal for platonic female friends to share clothes, so you try not to read into it too much.

When you come back into the living room, Chaeyoung is already lounging on the couch, arms stretched out invitingly. She pats the spot next to her. “Come on, join me. It’ll be so comfy.”

You swallow nervously and make your way over, not sure if you’re reading this situation wrong. But as soon as you lay down next to her, your body instantly relaxes from the warmth she radiates. Her arm drapes over your side naturally, and before you know it, you're both leaning into each other, the sound of the movie’s background noise fading away.

Everything feels so comfortable, yet your heart is pounding. Her scent—the mix of her perfume and the faint smell of the laundry detergent she uses—fills your senses, and it’s almost intoxicating. You try not to overthink it.

Chaeyoung shifts a bit, laying her head against your shoulder. "I can’t believe how much I love just chilling with you like this. It’s the best feeling."

You don't trust your voice to speak, so you just nod. Your heart feels like it might burst from the pressure of being this close to her, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, Chaeyoung laughs softly, breaking the quiet. “Y/N, I swear, your heart is beating so fast right now.”

You freeze for a second, unsure how to react. The way she says it is playful, but there’s something in her voice—something that makes you wonder if she means it differently than how you first took it.

“Don’t be weird,” you reply, trying to play it cool, but inside, your pulse is still racing. “It’s just a nap, Chaeyoung.”

But deep down, you wish it wasn’t just a nap. You wish there was more to it than that.

Chaeyoung chuckles, but there’s a slight softness to her voice now. “You make me feel like I can really be myself, you know? Like, I don’t have to act all cool all the time.”

The admission catches you off guard, and you let out a soft breath. “Yeah... me too. I feel the same way.” You pause, unsure whether to say what you’re thinking. “Do you think... do you think we’ll still hang out after the project is done?”

Chaeyoung shifts just a little, her hand brushing against yours, and you swear you feel the electricity between you. She looks at you with a soft smile, her gaze sincere.

“Of course,” she says gently. “You’re one of my favorite people, Y/N. I’m not going to let you get away that easily.”

You blink at her, unsure if she’s being serious or if she’s just being her usual bubbly self. But her words make something inside you melt, and you let out a relieved sigh.

“Good,” you whisper, feeling her hand settle more comfortably over yours.

And with that, the two of you drift into a comfortable, quiet sleep, tangled up in each other on the couch, with only the faint sound of the movie playing in the background.

The day of the presentation finally arrives. You’re feeling a little nervous at first, but as soon as Chaeyoung starts speaking, you feel a wave of confidence wash over you. Her energy is infectious, and she somehow makes even the most academic content sound fun. Every time you catch her eye, you can’t help but smile. Her enthusiasm makes everything feel lighter, even as you talk through your section with precision.

By the time it’s over, the professor is practically beaming at you both. “Excellent work! You two really knocked it out of the park. Great collaboration and thorough research. This is one of the best presentations on this topic I’ve ever seen.”

Your classmates are nodding in agreement, some even applauding. You look at Chaeyoung and share a quiet, happy moment of accomplishment.

"See? Told you we'd crush it," Chaeyoung whispers with a grin, giving you a high-five. You’re practically glowing, so grateful for her presence during the whole thing. You wouldn’t have felt as confident without her, and it shows.

After a few more presentations, class ends, and Chaeyoung enthusiastically suggests celebrating. “We totally deserve it. Let’s get all dressed up and go out for a fancy dinner, my treat!”

You laugh, agreeing. "Okay, but I’m going all out tonight. I want to look good."

You both go your separate ways to get ready, and Y/N, feeling an unfamiliar excitement, takes a little extra time. You put on a beautiful dress, one that makes you feel more confident than usual. You spend a little longer on your makeup and hair than planned, hoping to look your best tonight, though you try not to overthink it.

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

When you meet Chaeyoung at the restaurant, your heart skips a beat. She’s wearing a sleek, stylish outfit, and her smile is enough to make the world stop for a moment. She looks even more stunning than usual, and it hits you: you might be in way deeper than you realized.

Dinner is amazing. You two are laughing, chatting, and having a blast—just like you always do—but tonight, something feels different. The conversation flows so easily, but there’s an unspoken layer between the two of you, like you both know there’s something else that’s been left unsaid.

After the meal, you both step out into the cool evening air. Chaeyoung glances over at you and grins. “Thanks for coming with me tonight, Y/N. I had the best time.”

“Me too,” you reply, your heart fluttering slightly. “It was perfect.”

You both start walking in the direction of her apartment. You offer to walk her home, since it’s on the way. The streetlights cast a soft glow around you, and for a moment, it feels like everything has slowed down. The city noise fades into the background as you focus on each other.

When you reach the door to her building, you both stop. Chaeyoung turns to face you, her eyes locking with yours. There's a pause, a quiet moment where it feels like the world has held its breath.

“Well, this is me,” she says, her voice softer than usual. Then, as if without thinking, she steps forward and pulls you into a tight hug.

The hug lasts a little longer than normal, and you find yourself savoring the moment, a warmth spreading through you as her head rests on your shoulder.

As you pull away, she looks at you with a soft smile, her gaze holding a strange intensity that makes your heart race.

You clear your throat, trying to act casual. “Well, I’ll text you when I get home,” you say, taking a small step back. “Thanks again for the dinner.”

Chaeyoung just nods, her smile still there, but her eyes a little different, lingering on you. “Of course, Y/N. See you soon.”

You arrive back at your apartment, still replaying the hug in your head. As soon as you sit down, you quickly text Chaeyoung to let her know you’re home safely. You sit there for a moment, heart still fluttering.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes. It’s a message from Chaeyoung.

Chaeyoung: “You know, I kind of thought you would kiss me when you dropped me off.”

Your eyes widen. Your heart jumps into your throat. You blink at the message, not quite sure how to process it. What?!

Before you can fully collect your thoughts, another message pops up.

Chaeyoung: “OMG, wait. Do you not like girls? Just ignore this. Forget I said anything.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second, hands trembling as you stare at the text. You reread it, your heart racing now. What’s going on? Did Chaeyoung just… say that? Did she actually want you to kiss her?

You quickly type a response, unsure of yourself but needing to know what she meant.

Y/N: “Wait… what? What do you mean? What’s going on?”

You sit there, staring at the screen, your mind spinning. The words don’t make sense, but you feel this mixture of excitement and dread building up inside you. You’ve been so careful not to assume anything about how Chaeyoung feels. But now?

You can’t even tell if you’re reading into this. Was she just joking? Is she testing the waters?

Your phone buzzes again.

Chaeyoung: “I’m sorry if I made things awkward. Just ignore me. I should go to sleep. Night.”

Your heart drops as you read her message. It’s clear now that Chaeyoung’s unsure too—about what she feels, and about what’s happening between you two. The text seems to brush it off, but you can’t shake the feeling that it’s more than just a passing comment.

You lie in bed, wide awake, the words I kind of thought you would kiss me echoing in your head, and the uncertainty weighing heavily on your chest.

It’s well past midnight, but you can’t get any sleep. Chaeyoung’s text is still replaying in your mind, over and over. The uncertainty is eating at you, and it’s impossible to ignore. You’ve been lying in bed, tossing and turning, trying to rationalize everything, but the truth is—you’re confused and scared, and most of all, you feel like you’ve been holding something back.

You sit up, heart pounding, and glance at your phone one more time. Your thumb hovers over the screen, but instead of texting her back, something inside you snaps.

You know you can’t let this sit any longer. You need to know, need to get it off your chest. You don’t even think it through. You just grab your jacket, rush out of your apartment, and head to Chaeyoung’s.

The night air is cool against your skin as you speed walk to her building. Your heart races faster with every step, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after the conversation you had with yourself in your mind about her and you.

You reach Chaeyoung’s apartment building, standing in front of her door, your breath quick and shallow. You knock twice, hard, before you even realize you’re doing it. Then, you hear the soft sound of footsteps from inside, and the door opens slowly.

Chaeyoung stands there, looking a little disoriented. She’s still in her comfy pajama set, hair slightly messy, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Her voice is concerned, and you notice her immediately glance down at your face, likely wondering why you’re here in the middle of the night.

“I—uh—I’m sorry to just show up like this,” you stammer, feeling your nerves bubbling up. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about what you said earlier.”

Chaeyoung looks at you, now concerned. “Did I make you uncomfortable? I’m really sorry if I did. I didn’t mean to—”

You shake your head quickly. “No, no! It’s not that,” you interrupt, your chest tight with both nerves and excitement. You take a deep breath and step forward, realizing your hands are shaking. “I… I’ve been practicing this speech in my head the whole way here, but it’s not coming out the way I want it to, so I’m just going to say it.”

Chaeyoung blinks at you, clearly puzzled, but nods encouragingly. “You can say whatever you need to, Y/N.”

You take another deep breath, the weight of your words settling in your chest, and finally, it all comes rushing out, unplanned and raw.

“I’ve spent most of my life watching other people, admiring them, trying to figure out how to fit in. But with you… with you, everything just feels clearer. Like, you make me feel like I can finally be me. And I know it’s scary and confusing, but… I think I like you. A lot.”

The silence between you two feels deafening after your confession. Your heart is racing now, hands clammy, but you look at Chaeyoung, trying to gauge her reaction.

For a moment, Chaeyoung just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, her lips curl into the softest, most genuine smile you’ve ever seen.

“You like me?” she whispers, almost as if testing the words out. Her voice is soft but filled with a gentle warmth that makes your heart flutter.

You nod, too afraid to speak at first. But then you can’t help it, your eyes searching hers. “Yeah… I do.”

Before you know it, Chaeyoung steps forward, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek, and her lips are on yours. It’s a soft, tender kiss, as if she’s afraid to rush this moment but at the same time desperate to make it real. It feels like the world around you disappears, and it’s just you and her, and everything feels… right.

When you pull away, you’re both breathless, gazing at each other in disbelief. Chaeyoung smiles, this time with a touch of mischief in her eyes.

“Wanna stay?” she asks softly, her voice almost a whisper.

You nod, more than happy to agree, your heart still soaring. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

₊ ˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🗝️ ໒꒱ྀིˎˊ˗

author's note ᯓᡣ𐭩 as a lesbian who loves tangled, it was my duty to write this for you all. she's so rapunzel coded.

masterlist ᯓᡣ𐭩

#jaeyunluvbot #park chaeyoung #rosé #blackpink rosé #rosé x reader #park chaeyoung x reader #wlw #lesbian #kpop #y/n #college au #sapphic

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 year ago

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Kinktober day 25

Aaron Davis + Reunion sex

Couldnt find any gifs or good pics of Aaron from the game, so heres a pic.

This can be read as both spiderverse and Insomniac Aaron. I was imagining Insomniac Aaron cuz I’m playing the game, but yall can imagine whoever you want.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

They called you Bullseye because of your incredible aim, able to fling any blade, shoot any gun or trip any enemy. Youd appeared shortly before Spiderman had started out, meaning you’d been in this business over many years at this point, meaning you’d made a lot of friends and enemies along the way. Though, it was mostly enemies.

You were mostly a thief, but you’d taken money to kill people before, especially if you found out the person you were hired to kill was a horrible person. Then you would almost do it for free, but you couldn’t, as people would assume you were shabby or easily manipulated.

That’s how you met The Prowler for the first time, he had been in the business longer than you and knew his way around. You were both thieves, and both worked under Kingpin as long as it paid. In the beginning somewhat of a rivalry went on between you, as you both started going out of your way to pick the others targets, just because you could.

Later on in life you would both admit it was flirting, just your own way of doing it. You were a couple years younger than Aaron, but not anything too crazy, people were honestly more surprised that Aaron Davis was openly in a relationship with another man, than anything else.

Because that’s what it became, neither of you put a name to it for years, even as you moved in together and worked together as The Prowler and Bullseye, or when Aaron had to patch you up after the vulture had gotten you in the side after being a little too annoyed by your presence.

Even when you got to meet his cute nephew, and the first thing the kid asked was if you were Aaron’s husband. You did end up getting married, but it wasn’t anything big, just signing a couple of papers mutually deciding to wear a necklace with your ring instead of putting it on your finger.

Aaron had started to slow down over the years, and though you didn’t slow down just as much, you started taking smaller hits and even stopped killing, it was just hard to stop stealing after all these years. Your relationship with spiderman became better too, he didn’t even throw you into the raft, as you’d return the item you stole half the time.

Then everything happened with Miles being bitten, figuring out Aaron and your own secret identity and rightfully feeling betrayed, Aaron getting arrested and covering for you, leaving you to walk free as he was locked away. It was hard to be away from your husband, and it was hard seeing the distrust in Miles’s eyes when he looked at you.

But when Aaron was finally free from the raft, it was hard to not jump him immediately as he stepped in through the door. His beard wasn’t as styled as it had been before, and he looked slimmer, but he was still your husband who got your blood pumping.

Aaron had grinned in that way only he could grin, the way that had your heart racing, as he put his bag down and opened his arms to accept you as you advanced on him. Hands desperate and gripping, your lips mashed together like you were both starved and the others lips was the only thing that could fill your stomachs.

Kissing him after so long apart felt like coming home, like a part of you that had been ripped out had finally returned. The stumble to the bedroom was blurry, as both of you had been way too focused to kiss and touch and grab, to notice that you had stumbled into the bedroom. Things in your bedroom was pretty much the same as the day he was taken away, but none of that mattered.

You felt like you were on fire as Aarons hands slid up under your shirt, digging his nails into the tight muscle of your torso and dragging them down in the way that had your skin raising into goosebumps. He chuckled hotly as he groped your pecs, rubbing his rough thumbs over your hardening nipples as his eyes seemed to almost glow, like he wasn’t just as starved as you were for this.

Lips slick with spit and bodies growing hot, clothes were thrown all over the room as desperate hands pulled and tugged, the noise of ripping fabric registering somewhere in the back of your brain as Aarons hands gripped and pulled at your t-shirt. It had just been some cheap shirt, anyone could have torn it, but Aaron doing it had a hot shiver running down your spine like thick honey.

Your hips ground together as the last strips of fabric left your bodies, a deep hot groan leaving Aaron’s chest as you shuffled between his thighs, grabbing at the muscle there to lift them. He wasn’t as flexible as he had been years ago, but neither were you, the curse of your over-the-top lifestyle and age, but one of his legs still found its way over your shoulder.

He laughed as you licked the inside of his knee before biting into his leg, grinding in your teeth just enough to leave an indent. He laughed even harder as you grabbed the lube from the drawer, the same place you two always kept it, your husband making some joke about how you hadn’t even changed it up since he had been gone.

You scowled as he mentioned his time away, slicking up a couple of your fingers and getting to work stretching him out, starting slow as you had been apart for so long. Aaron had never made much noise, but the ones he did were like music to your ears. Any soft grunt or groan, or the few times you could get him to whimper when you brushed his prostate.

As you opened him up with your fingers, adding another when needed, you leaned down and kissed him again, your chin brushing against his faintly greying beard. His lips were dry, but you loved them like that, because it meant you got to flatten your tongue of them before taking them between your teeth and giving them a pull.

Aaron’s hand found its way into your hair, gripping on, his brows giving a furrow as you removed your fingers from inside him. You both knew he was ready, and Aaron was growing impatient, his leg falling to hook around your hip to pull you in close. “Come on, get inside me already” he grumbled, his eyes softer and face warmer than usual.

And who were you to reject his wish, reaching down to lead your cock into him, slowly pushing in and letting you both adjust as you bottomed out, a groan leaving you both at the completeness it made you both feel to be together again like this.

His hand gripped your arm and gave it a squeeze, and you knew it meant he wanted you to move but couldn’t find the words to ask. Normally you might have teased him a bit, get him to ask, but now all you wanted was to be near him.

Starting out slowly, you moved your hips in a slow and deep pace, this wasn’t just a normal roll in the sheets, it was making love. Aaron must have felt the same as you, as his arms found themselves around your neck, pulling you down so your lips could meet once more as he gave a grumbled demand for you to go faster.

The sound of pants and groans filled the room for the first time in the year Aaron had been gone, the slick noises of your kissing and of the lube only adding to the ambiance. The bed creaking the way it did only made your toes curl as you leaned back, gripping his hips so you could move your hips harder, making sure to strike that spot you knew always had your husband seeing stars.

The time apart had left you both needy and backed up, so it didn’t take long for you both to grow closer, Aarons noises growing in volume and going form groans to moans, his head falling back onto the pillow as his eyes clenched.

Seeing him so close, you reached down, wrapping your hand around his slick back, jerking it in pace with your thrusts until Aaron moaned the loudest you had gotten him to moan this entire time as he came, shooting spurts of white into your hand and across his torso.

The sight was enough to have your eyes roll back into your head as your jaw dropped, a moan leaving you as you bottomed out inside him, letting the rush of orgasm crash through your body as you came. The orgasm left your vision swimming for a moment, finally coming back to Aarons breathless chuckle as he pulled you down on top of him.

If you had been younger, you two would have gone a couple more rounds, but now it just felt like enough to hold one another after being apart for so long. You would have to get up and shower, and then change the sheets, as neither of you wanted to deal with that mess tomorrow. But right now holding Aaron and inhaling his scent took priority, your eyes sliding shut to just let yourself bask in it for a while.

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sabotsen · 29 days ago

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Fragment - 21 - T1004

Pairing: Lee x Commandant/Reader

Notes: Set during Ch21 Spiral of Chronos & contains spoilers. Cross posted to ao3 bc I hate the paragraph formatting here. Word Count 3.6k.

Warnings: Subtle Jealousy and possessiveness. Brief mention of character death and panic attack.

This is a secret Santa gift for @yandere-yearnings. I love you Dar!!! Happy holidays. I hope this knife stabs you lovingly.

Emotions cannot be compressed into numbers, not in a way that does them justice.

The depth, the weight, the agony of them cannot be expressed in binary. There is simply too much — too little — to account for them in calculations.

He knows this.

Honestly, he would like to think himself rational enough to follow through his calculations without the influence of emotions altering the numbers. In most situations, that assessment would be correct. His measurements, calculations, predictions are all precision sharpened to a lethal bullet aimed with perfect trajectory. He is a machine, built for war and numbers. He is a soldier, eliminating obstacles for the best calculated result.

But Gray Raven is not a factor that can be compressed into simple numbers and figures. You, in all your stubbornness and kindness, are not measurable no matter what calculations and equations he uses.

Your smile makes him happy — flustered, even — and your laughter rings in his head for days, leaving no room for even the shortest string of binary. Your touch is a warmth, a fire, that burns away every equation he knew by breath. Your voice is a melody that drowns out every calculated plan on the tip of his tongue. Your mere presence — the steady guiding light of your M.I.N.D. beacon — pieces him together so gently, more human than machine.

It’s a terrifying thing — to be stitched together so lovingly, to feel the weight of emotions more than the unchanging shape of numbers. It’s a foolish thing — to think of himself as a person and not a machine, a tool, a number in the data string.

He loves you for it. He fears you for it.

Because you make him more. Because you make him undefined.

But he does not change. Because it’s him.

So here he remains. Trapped in a Möbius loop. Because it’s you.

Lee is rational.

He is not one to be swept into fleeting emotions. Reacting on impulse often leads to more messes and headaches. There is a logical explanation for everything.

He knows this. He knows this.

But there’s something about the sight before him that makes his jaw clench until metal grinds against metal.

Maybe it’s the way your frame seems even smaller than usual as you kneel with one knee pressed against the floor, a sniper rifle that is not your own within your hands. Maybe it’s the way Wanshi curves against you, the white of his hair and outfit a stark contrast to the soft grays of your Gray Raven uniform as he embraces you like sea foam does the ocean waters. Maybe it’s the way you tilt your head just slightly towards him, his voice soft as he speaks. Maybe it’s the sharp glint in Wanshi’s golden gaze flitting over your shoulder as he notices Lee in the doorway. Maybe it’s the smile upon Wanshi’s lips, the silent glee of a hawk with prized prey, as he bows his head and nearly brushes his lips against your ear. Maybe it’s the way his hands drift over yours, adjusting your hold, then drift to ghost over your hips and shoulders, lingering just a little too long to merely correct your posture.

Maybe it’s all of them at once.

It’s an ugly thing that flares to life in the metal confines of his chest, writhing and clawing at the cage of his ribs. It’s an ugly thing that spurs him into the shooting range, jaw clenched and fingers digging into his palms firmly enough to scrape metal against metal.

He knows the name of it.

But Lee isn’t one to act on emotions. He has to be rational. He has to be level-headed. Someone has to be in order to keep Gray Raven out of trouble.

But even so.

It’s an ugly thing that rattles in his chest and claws up his throat. He tastes it on the back of his tongue as he steps up behind you.

“Commandant.”

He feels it burn like acid against his skin when golden eyes lock with his over your shoulder and Wanshi’s fingertips brush against the nape of your neck.

He feels it oozing, seeping like blood at his feet, lapping at the edges of your clothes as you kneel upon the ground and finally, finally turn your attention up to him.

Your smile is soft, gentle and welcoming as always. “Lee. Are you here to hide from Asimov for a while?”

Lee frowns slightly, his brow furrowed. “Please don’t lump me in with you, Commandant.”

You have no idea, do you?

You laugh — a beautiful sound that soothes the ache in his chest only as you lean back, posture relaxing and Wanshi naturally shifting just a breath away. It’s still too close, in Lee’s opinion. There’s a burning in his fingertips, a twist in his wires that urges him to pry you free from the hawk’s talons. If it’s shooting advice you need, isn’t he enough? Do you doubt his skills? Or is he not close enough to you for you to ask such a thing of him? Has he done something, said something, or missed some sort of subtle hint that forced you to go to Wanshi instead?

It’s an ugly thing that burns in his chest and drips like acid from his tongue. But he swallows it back. He is made of metal and numbers.

Lee sighs, his voice steady as it always is — he forces it to be. “Did you forget?”

You blink, head tilted slightly to the side and your silence is his answer.

He tries to ignore the way Wanshi tilts his head ever so subtly in the same direction and the way the hawk’s hands still linger on your shoulders.

“You’re going to be late to the meeting. Celica asked me to be sure you didn’t forget or run off to hide again.”

“Ah.” The color momentarily drains from your face, lips twisting in a blanch. The butt of the rifle drifts down, away from the cradle of your shoulder as you set it down and look every bit the image of a cat grabbed by the scruff. “It wasn’t on purpose,” you mutter, “I really did forget.”

If it weren’t for the hawk still pressed against your side, perhaps Lee would have smiled that small, subtle one you know him for. The one that vanishes if you pay it too much attention, fading like light refraction shifting rainbow hues to common daylight — a lasting secret only if you cradle it just right.

But he does not smile as he shakes his head in exasperation and gently places his hand on your elbow. “Let’s go, unless you really want to be in trouble.”

His movements are gentle as his hand on your arm guides you up, but his gaze is sharp and pointed on the hawk whose touch lingers too long as you move away to stand.

That golden gaze only softens when you turn your head to Wanshi, that familiar somewhat sleepy expression splayed across his features as if it had always been there. As if a sleepy owl is all he has ever been and ever will be.

“Sorry to run, Wanshi. Thanks for your time,” your voice is friendly as always, unaware, as you hand the rifle back to the Strike Hawk.

Wanshi merely smiles softly and waves his free hand. “Take care, Commandant.” Golden eyes shift, just for a moment to glance over your shoulder at Lee before lazily gliding back to your face. His smile sharpens in the corners, too soft and subtle perhaps for you to notice — but Lee does. “You know where to find me.”

Lee scowls, his hand on your elbow shifting and anchoring onto your shoulder. It is pure restraint that keeps him from digging his fingers into the folds of your clothes, and you merely take his gesture as a silent hint to keep moving — something innocent and friendly. So you let him coax you away by the shoulders as you offer a small farewell and final thanks to Wanshi and leave the room. He should be grateful you see his actions in such a light rather than for what they truly are. But that ugly feeling in his chest wails and mourns that you do not see through his act.

Just before the door slides shut, Lee casts one last look over your shoulder to the construct who remained sitting where you left him. That sleepy expression is gone, replaced by something too patient and cold, too sharp and predatory as it follows your back. Wanshi smiles, the shape of it upon his lips every bit the silent threat — the promise — of a hawk’s shadow brushing over a rabbit. The cold metal of the door slides shut, separating you from the Hawk perched and waiting.

It is only after he has guided you down the empty hallway far enough away from the shooting range for his nerves to settle that he realizes the weight of your gaze on him. You’re burning a hole through the side of his face and by the press of your lips he can tell you’re thinking something — worrying about something. His arm across your back slips away, his touch drifting down to your elbow in a soft brush — easily avoided. But you don’t. You allow the soft, ghost’s touch of his fingers against you.

“What.” He’s frowning. He knows he is.

You’ve known him long enough by now not to be deterred by his blunt speech or soured expression. If anything, perhaps you find comfort in it — familiarity in the easy banter you’ve developed with him and his dry humor. But there is thoughtful caution as you watch him now and he traces even the smallest movements in your gaze as you observe him.

“I don’t have a meeting with Celica today.”

There’s a note in your voice, subtle and easily missed. Light and almost airy — it’s the soft smile hidden in your voice that doesn’t play upon your lips.

That tone is the only reason his reply is as blunt and dry as any other common conversation, “Gray Raven is truly in dire straits if our Commandant is suffering memory loss so early in age.”

You laugh, a hand rising to hide the bright smile he adores. You have a bad habit of doing that — tucking smiles and laughter behind your hands as if they are stolen burdens not meant to trouble others. Perhaps the war has done that to you, or maybe it was something else — the cruel words of others. He never did narrow down the origin, as you’ve had that habit since the day he met you.

You should smile more, he thinks, as your hand falls away from your lips and the small hint of a smile remains. It’s the same one that plays upon your lips whenever he brushes off his flustered expression as his cooling system failing. But just like those moments, you do not call him on his bluff.

Instead, your hand shifts and taps his that still lingered on your elbow. “How are you holding up?” The worry in your voice is evident despite the light cheer you try to hide it behind. “We haven’t seen you lately. I know you like to keep busy but you’re not allowed to pick up Asimov’s workaholic tendencies.”

Lee tilts his head to the side, his frown softening a fraction but his brow furrows even more. “Do you not read the reports I send?”

“I read them, but that’s not what I asked.” Your hand on his shifts, interlacing your fingers together and if he were still made of flesh and bone perhaps you would have felt the way his heart would have stumbled, the way his fingers would have trembled. But he is made of metal and numbers, and he is still as the warmth of your hand sinks into his. “Are you alright, Lee?”

That ugly ache in his chest finally settles, soothed by your touch, but his thoughts tumble over each other in a silent maelstrom. His gaze falls to your hand in his, the way the softness of your touch contrasts so cruelly with the hard metal of him. What is there to say in this situation? Progress is being made on the specialized frame, everything necessary to know is logged within the reports you receive daily. So why are you asking? Why are you worried?

He won’t fail you or Gray Raven. Never.

The only thing stopping him from fully syncing with the frame is just those—

“Lee?”

Your voice pulls him from his thoughts and he feels the way your hand squeezes his gently. He hears the concern in your tone, feels it brush against him like the warmth of a blanket — cozy in its familiarity, even if it is foolish. Carefully, he returns the gesture, ever mindful of his strength. But as he lifts his gaze up to your face, his breath catches in the metal of his lungs.

Red.

The hallway engulfed in red and black — scorched and burning. Smoke curls and spills from the warped, gaping doorways on the right, billowing up and crawling through the broken ceiling above. On his left is an opening in the wall that frames a hellscape beyond — the earth molten and burning, shimmering in the blazing heat as the roar of flames nearly drowns out the screams and wails, human and metal alike. The sky above, once blue and freckled with stars, is now shrouded by the gray billows of smoke and ash.

Grounded. Ruined. Burning.

When did they fall? How could Babylonia, the cradle of humanity, have fallen?

His hands shake.

Something’s wrong.

Information pours into him, drowning him — the swell of the ocean crashing into a man lost and dehydrated in the desert.

He sees the figures of soldiers — constructs — fighting off in the distance. But it is not the corrupted they turn their guns upon. In the smoke and flames, he sees humans. He hears their screams, despite the distance — despite the fire roaring around him. He sees the constructs fall upon each other when the fire and wounds claim the humans. He sees them burn and melt in the heat, sees the way they tear their own limbs from their bodies and the arc of sparks that sparkle in the smoke like mournful stars.

Something in his hand pulls upon him— too soft, too gentle, too delicate for this hell.

“Lee!”

Your voice cuts through the smoke and ash to pull his attention back.

His gaze snaps from the sprawling burning battlefield to your hands on his then up to your face. But the sight of you crushes the metal ribs in his chest. Blood. Blood trails from your nose and dots the corners of your eyes like ruby tears. A dried trail of blood lingers in the corner of your mouth, lips too pale despite the crimson that stains them. Your vitals aren’t showing in the corner of his vision and panic spikes in his chest.

The virus.

It’s the virus.

You’re ill.

You’re hurt.

His hands fly to your face to wipe the corners of your eyes, to your neck to find your pulse.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Liv. Where is Liv?

He has to get you to her.

Serums.

You need serums.

Lee doesn’t hear the way you call his name as his hands fly to his chest, patting down his pockets. Where are the serums? He always carried some on him for you. Where…. Where are they?

Did he drop them in the crash?

Did they shatter?

Your hands follow in the wake of his, trying to grasp and still him, but he doesn’t notice.

You need help.

You can’t stay here.

He has to —-

“Lee!”

Your hands cradle his face, holding him in place and forcing his gaze back on you.

Immediately, he feels the weight of your connection, the steadying link of your beacon sheltering him. A piercing headache cuts through him, pierces him like a lance straight through his head. Crippling. Agonizing. It blinds his vision and nearly brings him to his knees as a shrill sound shatters his audio modular — the dying wails of a beast, a warning call drowning out the roar of the flames.

Your hands, the warmth of your touch, and your voice calling his name are the only things that keep him on his feet. He blinks, vision clearing as your worried expression comes into view — he feels the way your concern bleeds from you through the connection, a hint of fear rippling in the undercurrents.

“Lee?” Your thumbs brush against his cheeks. “What happened? Are you ok?”

Lee swallows, fingers finding purchase in the folds of your shirt. “Yeah,” he steadies himself, forces the trembling in his fingers to cease as he begins to count. Numbers, strings, data — anything to calm himself. “Just a headache.”

“A headache?” Your tone is incredulous, a scowl on your lips as you pull his face closer to yours.

“It happens,” is all he says. His gaze lingers in the corners of your eyes and trails down to your lips. No blood. He pries one hand from the folds of your clothes and gently wraps it around your wrist, fingers pressing lightly against your pulse. Steady, normal. Your numbers match the vitals in the corner of his vision.

You’re ok.

You’re safe.

“Lee,” his name is a short, clipped thing.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls away from your grasp and you let him, fingers lingering against his cheeks before he is out of reach. Your gaze is a heavy thing upon him as he glances to his left. The metal wall remains intact and from the narrow window outside he can see the vast black starry expanse of space.

There is no fire.

There is no smoke.

“I’m fine, Commandant.” Lee takes a breath, his attention returning to you as his expression returns to the neutral calm you know him for. “They happen, now and then. It’s fine.”

Doubt needles against the back of his mind through your connection, nibbling on the edges of him like a mouse. You don’t believe him. He doesn’t blame you.

Lee doesn’t like the expression on your face, the way your lips turn down in a frown weighted by worry or the slight shimmer in your eyes. Your hands find his again, warm and gentle. He does not pull away as you gently tug on his arm.

“Let’s go back to the lounge.”

Lee does not argue. Quietly, he follows you, his hand in yours as you lead the way down the hall.

It feels natural —

It feels like home —

If you lead the way, your hands on him to guide, he would follow you anywhere. Even into —

>>Memory playback paused.

>> Data corŗ̶̥̮̣̦͈̗̣̤̚ū̵͙̦̦͙̠͓̝͖̦̒̔̈̄̒p̴̢̎̈̄̂t̵͎̩͓̮͚̹̹͔̄͌̏͋͒̿̓́̄̎̓̀̆̈́̊͝i̶̧̛͙̥͖̫̹̘̤̳͎͈̜̍̒̏̔͒͐ͅơ̶̢̧̛̰̹̫̻͕͖̤̺͈͉̲͑͂̈́̃̂̅̀̿͗̅͗̃͘̕ṉ̷̢̡̛͙̙̹͚̠̲̦̞̖̤̱͗̈́̀͂͗̔̿̈́̈́̌̓͂̓͘͜͝͠ ̸̡̞͍̯̫͉̘̭̗̝̭̪͎̥̺͔̈́̄͑̐̆̾̅́͘̚f̸̧̱͎͈̣̲̣͓̖̟͎̆̏̚ơ̸̢̧̢̠̙̞̯͍̫͖̪̩̰̪̯͚̫̓͂͗̽̐̋̆̈́̒͊̊͋́͠͝u̷̝͇͍̰̜̥̣͊̍͆̈̌ņ̴̧̨̡͚͕̞̟̥͚̱̠͍̳̪́̽́͒̂͛͛̿̑̑͊͋͝͠͠ͅd̶̨͕̤̱̞̯̃̍̍̈͆̀́̽̇̿̏̽̍͛̚͠͠

>> Terminating playback.

Thunder is the first thing he hears.

Like the last wail of a dying man, it rumbles across the cold desolate landscape. A whale song unanswered.

He knows it is not truly thunder, but rather the chaotic storm of information continuously flowing and merging into the center of this space, swallowed and devoured. It is the last sound made by those who came before and a warning to those who will come after. It is the sound of a body falling from the heavens, another stone constructing the Tower of Babel.

Lee listens to it reverberate as he lingers on the last memory that flowed through him.

How long has it been since he felt warmth — your warmth?

Hard to say. Harder still to remember where ‘he’ originated from. Too many memories have been swallowed and merged into him, too much data compiled and stored for him to know which were originally ‘his’ and which came from ‘others’.

What happened to you — to that version of you?

Was it the fire that claimed you? Was it sickness? Was it age? Was it a bullet he failed to shield you from? Was it the corrupted he didn’t spot in time? Was it the Red Tide that swelled too quickly to stop?

Lee quiets.

Around him, data converges into ill begotten shapes only to crumble and shatter into streams of numbers. He feels it — in the not too distant future, in the not too far gone past — a ripple in “time”. Another version of ‘him’ who failed is falling from the Tower of Babel.

He’s lost count of the bodies he has devoured. He’s lost count of the memories he has stored, stolen and kept. He’s lost count of the times he has failed.

The bodies pile up like stones. Brick by brick. One day he will reach the heavens. One day he will reach the top of the tower.

He has to.He has to.

There is no other option.

Because there must be a world where you survive. There must be a future where you still exist.

Someone falls into this pitiful M.I.N.D., tucked into a corner of space and time long forgotten and overlooked.

Another body. Another failure.

Lee sees ‘himself’ bloodied and wounded crumbled in a heap upon a shape made of data.

Thunder rumbles in the distance. A mournful wail. A warning.

Lee resigns himself once more and pulls ‘himself’ closer into the center of the storm.

He has to know what happened in that world of ‘his’. He has to learn.

He only hopes he will see you again.

Even if only for a moment.

Even if it is only a fragment of a memory.

He misses you.

>> Uploading dá̸̦͎̩̪̞̗̞̯̖̬̽́̏̋͝t̸̙̟͈̮̦̬͈̬̰͍͉̩͕̞͕͗͐̉̎̽̋̄̂͒͑͝a̷͉͕̘̍̀͛̇͋…̵̛̦̼̦̫̺̠͍̗͑́̎̏̽͐̐̆̎͠͝͝͝.̶̛̲͓͓̩͚̞̠͇͔̮͖̾͐̋̽̐͌̌̑͆̓̾̕ ̷̣̦͖̫̟͙̏̃̑͑̾1̴̧̛̥̱̰͚̽͒̐̀̍̀̇̄͛̾̇̎̕ͅ%̴̧̡͖̮̝̰̖̦̠̝̤̎̅̎̈́̊̌͂͜͝͝ͅ…̴̛̳͉̙̝͙͂̎͌̅ ̶̢̨̡̢̛͚̩͈̠̼̝͔̭͍3̶̛̺̖͎̂̋̈́̉̀̌̉͒͂̏̚͘̕͝%̵̨͈͉̭̟̣̟̾͑̀̓̎͛̋̀͋̀̒̎̂̽̒͋̈́.̵̡̨̗̩̱̣̯͉͓͖̹̗͐͗̌̐̄͌̈́́̋̈́̓͘.̸̢͚͈̗͍̘̂̄̀̊ ̵̧̨̜̯̗̖̱̬̭̫̬̬̳̞̤͆̏͒́̊̌͌̐̾̈̇̀̕ͅͅ

#.tsen fic #pgr #punishing gray raven #pgr lee

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acrowwithakeyboard · 4 months ago

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CVF fights and who seems to be able to beat who if caught in friendly fire

Putting a spoiler curtain over so it isn't taking up a huge chunk of screen unless you want to read

Basically what the tins got printed. While I try to rotate for a smaller group, sometimes my LDBs (mostly Ieama) has 8 people trudging along behind. When everyone aggros on a wolf the chances of someone NOT hitting a ally is never zero. There's been enough fights that I can figure who can beat who in a fight, tie with, or otherwise has a fluctuating score going. I’ve compiled more or less how the followers I currently have fare against each other in those fights. Now this is all based off of fights in my game, so if they are better in someone else's, I'll raise a glass for ' 'em!

Val: Spellswords are devastating. Pirates play dirty. Being both means he's not an easy opponent. He can take Redcap and Auri most times (unless Auri is far enough and has a clear shot she can take him out before his spells can reach her, while Redcap is a fast little friend and dodges his spells well). He hasn't fought Remi, though I think its just luck on that part, and it’s fluctuating with Tally and Xelzaz (I figure them to be a strategic lot, along with Nebarra), Gore has beat him down more than he’s won (their fighting lines really make for a scene) and he has yet to start shit with Nebarra, so we don't know yet if he would win or not. I'm thinking he'd lose though.

Auri: A very good archer indeed, she doesn't miss much, and constantly moves and creates distance between her and whoever messes with her. Can take down Nebarra and Redcap (the former usually isn't fast enough to get into close combat, and she has wicked aim when she's mad). She has not been in a fracas with Gore or Remi (by sentiment or luck I'm not sure) while Val, Tally and Xelzaz and can go toe to toe so the win/lose ratio is fluctuating. Generally, she fights the last three as an aid to someone else. Her taunts and fight lines about her eating her enemies hearts might also add a touch of fear into most of her opponents too. (Also, she keeps shooting me but I usually front line enemies, so, well call it an accident)

Gore: Generally, once he's set to beat someone's face clean through their ass he's not stopping, and will shrug off whatever is thrown at him to get the job done. He can and will fuck up Val, Xelzaz, Tally and Redcap if they hit him, (the first two have had wins, but Gore has beaten them more, the latter two... tried at least, but only managed once each) but he will get cut to ribbons if he pisses off Nebarra. He can adapt or overcome different opponents in close combat very well with his chosen weapon, and seems to have different approaches to each opponent. He will not hurt Auri or Remiel though. Not sure if he’s just never gotten aggro’d on those two or vise versa, if there’s a implemented code to keep him from going berserk on em, or he’s uniquely aware Auri will eat him should she kill him and just decided to Not Do That and Remi is, in his words, like a little sister so he wont hurt her no matter what, but he’s yet to fight them.

Remi: She generally gets people with a combo of skill and teamwork, and is pretty resourcful, Scrap helping out is also a given. Has beaten Xelzaz but apologized profusely, almost beat Redcap but stopped herself, and tried Nebarra but it, didn't go well. Most time if she is hit someone jumps in to help (Scrap automatically, but Gore also jumps in, and he can smoke quite a few folks in the party). She hasn't attacked Gore, Auri or Val, as of right now, BUT has had a near 10 minute long knock out drag down fist fight with Tally on a mountain in the Rift that ended in a tie and I’m waiting for round two to see who wins. They've yet to re-instigate the fight since. Scrap helped but she held her own very well without him after he was ejected quite suddenly from the fight.

Tally: He lasts a longer in a fight with people than other combinations, win or defeat. I chalk it up to him being used to close combat, working in and out of groups, and his experience in the Great war. Him and Nebarra are long time contenders and he’s won by both scrape of luck and strategy, has fought Xelzaz well and won more (only recently, not by much though). He got folded by Gore a lot when we first found him, still gets folded on the occasion, and he's only had one win against him. Auri has head shot him more than I can count but ultimately they are fluctuating, and Remi and him have had no winner but the longest fight I’ve ever seen between followers without one or the other falling. Neither were downed and I am waiting for the next one with concern and excitement.

Xelzaz: That Telvanni's stray firebolts have started a lot of fights. But as a good poisoner and a well taught wizard, he's got a good standing with most combatants. He has won some fights (Nebarra if he’s not right next to him immediately, Auri he has surprising good aim on though they are more or less equal) he can contend with Val and Tally for a bit, situational on who loses more, but apologizes to Remi and Redcap if he starts something with them, though he's been downed by Redcap. Gore I think has the drop on him with heavy steel and fast reflexes and the general bullheaded determination that affords pushing through being actively burnt and poisoned by Xel’s spells and weapons, so Xelzaz loses a fair bit more with him.

Redcap: Small body, big determination. He has beaten Gore, once. It was in Bleak Fall and he had 4 spears launched at him before he got close enough to hit Redcap, after which he made short work of the fight. He has had fights with him since but Gore is not an easy fight and gets the win now. Tally is his most recent win, (I got hit in the crossfire in that one), and he has taken Xelzaz down a few times but does stop the fight usually before that, same with Remi, if it happens at all. He’s been skewered by Auri, her aim is pretty damn good despite his small stature and speed, and he does damn well against Nebarra but ultimately loses (Nebarra usually gets him from behind first for some reason). Val can contend and win sometimes but hes small and VERY good at dodging Val's lightning. He also has skewered me and I and pretty sure I have died from a spear and low health combo once, so I’ll give that to him.

Nebarra is a vicious, embittered veteran of the Great war and it shows. Gore is often down in seconds, Remi taken off guard faster than you can say Dwemer, Redcap didn’t know what the Oblivion hit him, pretty sure Val hasn’t fought him only out of some begrudging respect for his skills. Regardless of these wins, him and Xelzaz have an Equal standing score more or less. Auri and Tally though are the closest thing to HR intervention to his not-so-appropriate comments on other races, but even then, those are hard won fights on their side. He's an old soldier doing whatever it takes to survive. This mer does not pull punches.

Finally, Scrap has taken down Gore, Auri, Xelzaz, Val, Redcap and a two of Xelzaz’s flame Atronachs, and they’ve all only fought him once ish to a completion. (the rest were stopped before his intervention) He attempted to aid Remi with her and Tally’s throw down but was blasted off the cliff by a well-placed ice spike. So, technically, Tally has probably the most wins against scrap in the group. But in conjunction with that, Scrap is the best fighter based on ratio of wins vs loses.

Ieama is one who has seen the most of these fights, and mostly let them resolve with a win before intervening. She is of the idea that beating the Oblivion out each other builds character and strengthens relationships. She is also a firm believer of 'talk shit, get hit' in Nebarra's case.

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orange-artblog · 3 months ago

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I wrote a little thing :D (it‘s a little sad… sorry! (not)) (and possibly also ooc) (and not finished!) vAim belongs to @zu-is-here / Axel belongs to @ari-cuno /writing by me

Another loud explosion echoes in the half-ruins of what once was a peaceful, neutral AU. The loud sounds have already become background noise. Maybe one day he‘ll lose his hearing because of this, but it‘s the least of his concerns right now.

What was he feeling? How will he ever tell? He misses them again. So dearly

The prankster that had said he knew his father hadn‘t shown up again since their first encounter, quite some years ago. Perhaps he had imagined him, hallucinated just another figure in his never-ending misery. It would make sense, that he was starting to lose it. He‘s not even sure anymore what‘s going on.

Heh, never-ending. It really felt like that. On some days, it was so much harder to not let that feeling of deep sadness win once and for all. That his misery would never end, no matter what he tried or which things he changed in his story. He begged before, for the pain to end, but no one heard his pleas. Nobody came

Like he was utterly alone. Forever. Cursed by something passed down to him by- He didn‘t want to think about it. It only increased the rate at which the goggles he wore filled up with water. He wished he would not cry so much.

On any other day the amount of residents in this part of town would‘ve bothered him more, but not today. The screaming didn‘t matter to him like it should have. He did not glance when a father took his child into his arms and ran away from another collapsing building

Did everything have to remind him of them?

But with the way the fog built up and worse around him did the screaming also fade into the background, just as the explosions did.

The town laid to ruin was small. Smaller than the usual city, but there were more than 50 residents, surely.

Faintly, he hears it. Frantic footsteps from the distance, rubble landing on the floor. But those footsteps didn‘t seem to be running away from him, no… They were.. Approaching him? Off-putting, when anyone else was currently running away from the trouble.

The steps were getting louder, eventually coming to a stop. It appeared that whoever it was still kept their distance from him. Likely, they didn‘t want to accidentally be punched. how would they know to keep their distance? Exploding sounded worse than just being punched, but sure.

No matter.

He clutches another explosive in his hand. The wristwatch he has glimmers and blinks. The fire does not settle. Perhaps it never will. Despite there being practically nothing left to burn, he still feels it. The hole in his chest grew larger with every flame rekindled.

Right. The person behind him. He lifts his goggles to see better, but does not turn around yet.

They sound out of breath. The glimps of voice that he can already hear from them feels familiar. But his mind… Can‘t connect the stray pieces. He doesn‘t give the feeling further thought.

„Aim! Stop! It’s enough- You’ve- This isn‘t what you want!“ He hears coming from behind him. He wonders why the light glitch in their voice feels like another home

Could he be the stranger again, that said he knew his dad?.. No, no, their voices were much too different for such a connection. And the prankster didn‘t yell when he had… Done some necessary demolition, unlike this.. stranger. (The houses were about to fall apart anyway, he told himself. Over and over.) Why did saying „stranger“ feel wrong again?

„… How would you know what I want?“ his own voice comes out as raspy. He hasn‘t spoken in quite some time now, having no one to listen to him as much as he remembers, and the added amount of sludge in his throat (naturally occurring when you cry, of course) didn‘t help. He cleared his throat before continuing on, for his own comfort „'Cuz I don‘t recall ever telling you anything.“

„… You have, I promise. It‘s just been a while.“ Thinking about it, the tone did seem more familiar now. He was given a strange sensation of deja vu, and somewhere inside him he wondered if it’d ever stop. „Please, look at me. Let‘s talk this out instead.“

(Inside, he wished to remember. He couldn‘t.)

… Sure, whatever. When he turns, the figure that meets him must be someone he‘s acquainted with. Just blurred, with his cheeks still stained wet and warm. Their bones were dark and there were marks on their face. Hm.

((- 1/? ))

#my writing #yay! ok never writing again /j #aim sans #adult!aim #post dark cream ship kid #(well…)#axel #axel!sans #(wellll xd)#errorink ship kid #vain #:d #theyre probably. absolutely terribly out of character #Aim is on purpose Axel is not (im so sorry ari i am Afraid :‘D)#(i cant ask my father what a neutral good acts like weve talked so mucj about this hes starting to get annoyed XD /hj)#i actually had to try Not feeling too much into this otherwise it would jave been a lot more sad

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6emo6zombie6 · 1 year ago

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hii!! I was wondering if I could request a reader who is hurt with either Dutch or John? maybe from an animal attack or just getting hurt by someone who now has a scar across their face?

If not its totally okay! have a great rest of your day <3.

Thanks for requesting! I hope this is good (And not all too graphic lol)

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Clawed ~ Hurt gn!reader x John/Dutch

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“Where’re you headed?” Dutch asks, his voice rough as usual as he walks up behind you.

You pay him little mind, humming in his direction as you fasten your horse’s saddle, ensuring none of the straps are too tight.

“Huntin’?” He asks again, now walking up beside you to lean against the hitching post that your horse, Runar, is hitched to. He’d clearly referred to the bow on your horse.

“Yeah,” You breathe, nodding as you glance at him. “Pearson mentioned we were out of meat, so I figured a little huntin’ trip wouldn’t hurt.”

“You’re not takin’ Charles?”

“No,” You shake your head. “He taught me enough, I’m all set to go on my own.”

“hm,” Dutch chuckles. “I’ll take your word for it.”

You know he’s worried about you—he has been ever since he pulled you out of your situation and took you refuge in his camp. You’d been taken by a different gang, beaten up, and starved for their sick sense of entertainment.

You tut at Dutch, unhitching your horse and clumsily climbing up on the saddle.

“You know,” He watches you. “You ‘oughta get a smaller horse. You can barely get up on this one.”

You roll your eyes, adjusting your position. “But I like Runar, he’s calm and loyal.”

“I’m just jokin’, I’m just jokin’.” Dutch chuckles. “You be careful now,”

“I’ll be back by sundown.” You put on your hat, nodding once more at Dutch before taking off and leaving the campgrounds.

Your ride wasn’t all too long, you headed up north from Strawberry. Charles had taken you there twice, and both times it had been crawling with deer and some smaller animals. You decided to stall your horse in the trees, grabbing your bow and carefully making your way through the woods. You peered up into the tree to see if there were any squirrels, though you couldn’t find any.

You wandered around for a while, missing tons of shots on little animals. It was clear you weren’t experienced enough to successfully get an arrow in any rodents. You got bored after that long while, making your way back to your horse and riding it through more of the trees.

You rode through the woods and out of the trees, and you were quickly met with an open field. You smiled upon noticing a group of deer, grazing peacefully. You felt bad about killing the animals at first, but you quickly concluded that hunting meant life or death.

“Slow up, boy,” You murmur to your horse, getting him to stop right where the trees ended. You get off of him and draw your bow together with a few arrows.

“Stay here,” You command, patting your horse on the shoulder. Slowly, you gain on the deer, focusing on them as you prepare to shoot your bow. You pick a spot slightly right from the deer, crouching in the grass as you lift your bow, drawing the string and aiming at the fattest of the group. You internally cheered, thinking of how proud Charles would be if he heard you hunted your own deer for the first time.

Suddenly, you heard Runar neigh loudly, his high-pitched screech alarming both you and the deer. Your head whips around, scanning the edge of the forest.

“Runar!” You yell out, seeing him gallop off into the foliage. “Damn that horse,” You grunt, looking the other way again, watching all the deer scurry away. You look at your bow, then at the sun that is starting to set. You sigh, making your way south toward Valentine in the hopes of catching a stagecoach there.

Only a minute had gone by, and you were nowhere near the edge of the field when you heard a blood-curdling growl.

Cougar.

Now you knew what had spooked Runar.

You turned around swiftly, only to be met with a large, female cougar charging toward you. You knew she was out for blood—seeing the hungry look in her eyes. You froze for a second, then whipped around and started sprinting, running as fast as you could.

Once you looked around to check where the cougar was, she had already jumped at you. You shrieked as she pummeled you to the ground, her nails digging into your hip and waist. Your heart raced as your mind went blank, only concerned with staying alive. The large cat nipped and scratched at you, one of her paws dashing across your face as you struggled under her impressive stature.

You were half aware when your hand shakily reached to your belt, your hands gripping your knife to bring it up and plunge it into the animal’s heart. She struggled a little longer before collapsing, her blood spilling all over your chest. You gasped for air as you pushed her off, her body lying limp in the grass.

You got up, your body trembling from all the adrenaline in your blood. You felt a faint stab in your abdomen, as well as the taste of copper in your mouth. As you stumbled forward, you looked down, your shirt ripped to shreds and blood seeping from two large gashes.

“Oh, no,” You breathed, the shock washing away, making you feel the painful sting from your wounds. You frantically press your hand up to the gash, breathing heavily as you start to panic. It all went by so quickly, your blood kept dripping as you walked, hoping to make it to civilization before anything else went down.

Alas, you never made it out of the field, collapsing halfway through as your vision started to flicker. You saw flashes and stars, then everything went black.

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

“Don’t die on me, now,” You heard in an echo. The raspy voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t seem to put your finger on it. Your eyes opened slightly to see the stars in the pitch black sky, then when you looked to the right, a dark-haired man, his face illuminated by a lantern on the ground next to him. You finally recognized the face.

John.

“John?”

John exhaled, an expression of relief washing over his face. “What-“ He grunted. “what were you thinking? Out here on your own. You’re lucky I found you.”

He seemed to be only wearing his jacket, his shirt currently wrapped around your wounds.

“I’m sorry,” You breathe, wincing at the pain of your wounds. “How—how’d you find me?”

“That horse of yours, he ran back to camp.” John shoveled his arms under you, lifting you up while you groaned in pain. “I followed his tracks back here.”

“You kill that cougar?” He looked around at the animal’s carcass.

“yeah—” You keep moaning out in pain as John places you on the back of his horse, getting on himself. You hold on to his jacket weakly, the world spinning around you.

“Dutch is worried sick about you, you know?” John shook his head, speeding through the woods. He grunted, frustrated by your lack of planning.

“God—i—,” He stammered. He seemed almost angry at you. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t,” You murmur. John ignores you, riding back to camp with haste.

He helps you off his horse once you’re there. Charles, Dutch, Susan, and Arthur crowd around you, all with worried faces as you stumble along to your tent. The rest of the gang members watch from all over the camp.

“What—” Dutch walks up behind you on one side, Charles on the other side to help you walk. “What happened? My dear child,” His thick eyebrows knit together in worry as he successfully helps you lay down on your cot. He stands over you as he inspects you, your torn clothes, the gash on your face, all the blood.

Before you can answer, Miss Grimshaw is already in your tent, bandages in hand.

“I’ll handle it,” Dutch sternly says, taking the supplies and ushering the woman out of the tent. You watch, confused as he closes up the front flaps and lights a lantern in the corner of your tent. Something in his expression hints that he feels guilty.

“I—” You grunt. “I almost had a deer, all on my own…” You murmur, Dutch looks at you, still confused. “A cougar attacked me after Runar ran off.”

“I was a fool to let you go alone,” He sighs, bending down to take John’s shirt off of your wounds. You grunt at him peeling the fabric away, the cold air stinging. He looks at the gashes on your abdomen and waist, pained at the sight of his loved ones hurting.

“God,” He took a long look at your face, inspecting the ragged gash that ran from your cheek to your forehead. “Hosea’s gonna have to stitch that up,” He murmured, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger affectionately. “That damn animal, ‘went and tore up your beautiful face…”

You look away, feeling guilty about bringing Dutch this much distress. he gently caresses your cheek, then kneels by your cot and grabs the roll of bandage.

“Sit up for me, darling,”

You struggle to sit up, grunting and moaning in pain as you move slowly. The waistband of your pants digs into the gashes on your skin, so you slide your suspenders off of your shoulders and roll your pants down. Dutch pushes up what’s left of your shirt and begins carefully bandaging up your wounds.

You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, feeling the pressure of the fabric on your stinging skin. You’ve never seen Dutch this precise and careful, let alone his visible worry as he tends to your wounds. You look down at the mess, part of your pants had torn up and lots of blood had seeped into your clothes. Dutch sighs, constantly looking up at you to make sure you’re not in too much pain.

After a few minutes, he’s done bandaging you up. He gets up and takes another look at your face before silently walking out of the tent. You watch him with confusion, eventually forcing yourself up and out of the tent to see what he is doing.

You look across the camp to see him filling a bowl of stew, he looks concerned once he notices you out of your tent. You ignore his gaze and walk over to the main campfire. John stares at you silently, and Reverend looks at you with remorse.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” John asks, his concern hidden by a mask of frustration. You hum at him, sitting down against a log with a groan.

Dutch walks over, shaking his head as he sees you by the campfire. The rest had already gone silent.

“Here,” He murmurs, handing you a plate of hot stew. You smile up at him and take the plate. “I want you to rest after you’re done eating, understood?”

“Okay…” You murmur, looking up at him as he pats your head quickly before walking off to his tent. The conversation sparks up again around the campfire after that. You watch John as he gets up and walks away, disappearing behind Pearson’s wagon. He comes back a minute later with a bottle of whiskey, not making any eye contact as he puts it down beside you.

“Should help with the—with the pain.” He murmurs, sitting back on the crate that he had previously been sitting on. You smile softly in his direction, taking the bottle in hand and gulping at it.

“Heh, you and Marston are matching,” Bill barks out a laugh as he walks by, referring to your bloodied and scarred face.

You and John mutter a synchronized “Shut up.” At the man.

#john marston #red dead redemption 2 #fluff #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption #rdr2 #red dead redemption fluff #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #John marston x reader #hurt reader #red dead redemption fanfiction #Dutch is such a dad

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