#and then he see's this shadow near the road | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

megalony · 1 month ago

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A Hindrance

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine (Gladiator), thank you to the lovely anon who requested this. Please let me know what you think.

I'd love to take on any Geta requests anybody has.

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Summary: (Y/n) tries to attend state meetings now she is married to an Emperor, but some of the Senates aren't so kind towards her. When Geta finds out, he makes them see reason.

Enjoy.

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A soft grin formed on (Y/n)'s lips before she even found the will power to open her eyes. She didn't have to look up to know that the shadows casting over her was because of her husband.

It almost felt strange to think that, to acknowledge that she was married now. That she was bound to someone from now until her last day. Someone to give herself to, someone to be herself around and to love more than anyone else; before anyone else. But it was also one of the most wonderful feelings in the world to (Y/n).

Knowing she was married to one of two Emperors was a daunting thought. It was easy for (Y/n) to separate Geta from the crown placed on his head, sometimes it was like seeing him as two different people. The stone faced Emperor the people saw, and the thawed out, doting man she had married only a fortnight ago.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was as soft and subtle as the warm breeze passing through the open window.

And when (Y/n) dared to open her eyes, she was met with a lovely sight. Geta had his right arm pressing down into the mattress near her shoulder and his head was tilted at an angle so he was looking down at her. He was leaning up on his elbow and his hip and his left arm stretched out so his fingers could create a ticklish path from the base of (Y/n)'s throat down her bare chest. It was almost as if Geta was drawing a map or following a road with the pad of his finger.

The lazy smile on his lips was infectious and seeing him now, bare and absent of any make up, it made him look warm. There was finally colour to his cheeks and a redness to his lips and a soft pale cream beneath his eyes.

It was homely and soothing to see Geta in this light, and to know that (Y/n) was the only person who got to see him like this. But she would have to admit that seeing him in his full regalia and make up was also a sight to behold. His deathly white skin when it was painted always looked so regal rather than pasty and ill. And the black streaks painted beneath his eyes made him stand out and made his gaze all the more piercing.

"Admiring the view," Geta murmured back whilst he continued his administrations, trailing his fingers down until he was creating patterns and secret words along (Y/n)'s waist just to feel the way she qould squirm and fidget beneath him.

His words set a fire blazing within (Y/n) and she couldn't help but reach her hand up to cup the side of his face. She pushed up from the pillow to capture him in a kiss that seemed to entice him until he was pushing his bare chest down against hers.

When she prepared to marry Geta, people had warned her. They told (Y/n) that Geta wouldn't give up his concubines or the women of the night he ventured to with his brother. And they also said that because he was an Emperor, he wasn't expected to either. He was permitted and socially applauded for keeping those favoured women around and having them to go to when he didn't want to be with his wife or in the event that she became pregnant.

Part of (Y/n) had tried to prepare herself for that thought and that event, but it turned out that she had no need. Geta had dismissed them all. All the women and concubines who had been at the palace to serve him had been dismissed and the only ones who remained were Caracalla's favoured women.

Geta had made it very clear that he didn't want anyone but (Y/n); he would devote himself to her in the same respect he expected her to devote to him. And (Y/n) was beyond happy with that gesture of love and trust.

"Don't we have a meeting to attend?" (Y/n)'s thumb stroked the side of Geta's face that she was still cradling in her palm and she spoke in between stolen kisses against his blushing red lips.

She liked the way his hands stopped drawing on her skin in favour of gripping her waist when she moved to sit up and he followed suit. His nose nudged against hers and his lips stole every breath (Y/n) tried to inhale like Geta simply couldn't breathe without her.

When one hand left her hip in favour of cradling the back of her neck so he could angle her lips better to his, (Y/n) could have passed out then and there. Her hands moved to grip his sturdy shoulders and she let him steal half a dozen more kisses and touches before she finally pulled back for air before her head burst.

"The meeting," She mumbled against his lips and leaned forward to leave an open mouthed kiss against the very corner of his mouth which caused Geta's eyes to flutter closed.

"This is more important."

"I don't think the Senate would agree."

"Ah, but taking care of my wife is my responsibility, not theirs." Geta's counter argument was effective, even if he wasn't using it to sway (Y/n)'s mind since he was already untangling from the sheets so he could stand up.

His touch lingered on her skin after he ventured into the smaller, adjoining room that housed all their clothes and garments.

(Y/n) supposed that she should get ready as well since she was expected to attend the meeting. She was expected to attend most, if not all, of the meetings both Emperors had regarding Rome and their conquored nations. She was the Empress now, her husband was one of the rulers and it wasn't just about being by his side and showing support for him and the people.

It was about (Y/n) understanding the governing of Rome and listening to the matters of state. (Y/n) had to know just as much as the Emperors about the land they ruled and controlled, she couldn't rely on second hand information from others.

Once she was dressed, (Y/n) smoothed her hands up and down her dress, brushing off the few wrinkles and making sure that it didn't hug too tight around her frame and flowed freely around her lower legs.

She began to pin her hair back and donned a golden band in her hair which matched the golden belt around her waist just as she felt a familiar pair of hands on her hips. She felt the growl rumble from Geta's lips through her neck and all throughout her blood when he tucked his face into her neck.

And she heard 'beautiful' and 'matching' mutter past his lips like he was singing her praises. She realised the colour of her dressed matched what Geta had chosen to wear.

Most of his and Caracalla's clothes had some element of gold in them, for gold was the colour of wealth and regal and it matched their natural fiery hair. Although where Caracalla favoured blue with gold, it was well seen that Geta favoured red.

He had streaks of red woven into the clothing he was wearing which was outwardly cream with gold embellishments and edgings. His robes didn't have sleeves as long as some of his other garments, the sleeves on this particular robe Geta wore today cut just past his shoulders and hung in front of his chest like a backwards cape.

(Y/n) murmured a soft "Thank you," When Geta unravelled himself from her and moved to stand beside her in front of the table which heldall the various pins and rings and jewels each of them would wear.

Geta had grown accustomed to sleeping with his rings still on his fingers until two weeks ago when he married (Y/n). None of his concubines had ever shared his bed all through the night so he hadn't realised that he could swing his arms out during his sleep. The rings that clad his fingers were heavy and had caused a bruise or two on (Y/n)'s soft skin when he slung an arm over her or at her during the night.

His fingers skimmed over the rings and he set about sliding each one over the grooves of his fingers towards his knuckles.

But when it came to choosing and clipping his other jewellery, he paused. His lips curved into a soft, melting smile when he held his wrist out towards (Y/n) and felt her soft touch skimming across his skin.

He watched with growing adoration in his eyes as (Y/n)slid a golden band over his wrist which looked like a piece of armor that started at his wrist and went halfway up his forearm. Next, she chose a thin gold bracelet to place on his other wrist and two golden chains for his neck.

Geta leaned forward towards her, raising a brow and curving his lips into a sideways grin as he bowed his head towards her chest so she could reach and loop the first chain over the back of his head until it hung comfortably around his neck. The pendant on the chain settled just below his collar bone, situated lovingly against his exposed pale skin and the second chain that looped around his neck hung much lower and rested over halfway down his chest.

When he raised back up to his full height, (Y/n) grinned as if admiring a work of art which in many ways, Geta was to her. The finishing touch was the golden leaf crown that (Y/n) carefully nestled into his golden hair, making sure the crown wasn't engulfed or obscured by his silky strands.

"My Emperor," Her voice was as tender as her touch when she skimmed the back of her hand down Geta's cheek and over his exposed chest.

She was sure he whispered "Yours alone." Against her lips when he dove down to steal a kiss and brush a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear.

(Y/n) slid her own rings onto her fingers when Geta finally released her so he could apply the make up he favoured whenever he had be seen by anyone other than his wife or brother. She hooked a few bracelets onto her wrist and one necklace.

Once they were both ready, (Y/n) looped her right hand around Geta's arm and stood close to his side as they left their chambers.

It had only been two weeks since their wedding, but they were quickly falling into a rhythm and routine together. Breakfast wasn't something they tended to fuss about. Before Geta and Caracalla became Emperors, during their harsh childhood, food had been something of a luxury they couldn't afford, something they didn't find often enough.

Breakfast had been cut out of their routines, they ate at midday and late evening, a lot of the times while growing up it had been one small meal a day if they were lucky. Becoming Emperors and having all the riches and luxuries in the world made them appreciate what they never used to have and they stuck to the routine of two meals a day.

And Geta preferred to get up and go straight to business, walk straight into these meetings. (Y/n) would follow Geta.

She was his wife, she wanted to show her support and show that their alliance was a loving and happy one. If Geta went to meetings and events alone it might imply that something was wrong or he didn't want her around. (Y/n) didn't want to give off that impression, especially when Geta wanted her by his side every moment of the day. He couldn't bear to be without her.

Her cheek nuzzled into his shoulder as they walked in tandem down the long corridors and down a flight of stairs.

The room in the palace where meetings were held was a large open court room that overlooked one of the fountains outside. (Y/n) thought the room was lovely, until it was filled with people.

The walls of stone were thick and high and when voices got louder, the room echoed badly. (Y/n) had never been a fan of crowds but loud noises were something she couldn't abide by. It was something Geta had figured out very early on in their courtship and something he was invested in helping with now that they were married.

Once they entered the room, a cold shiver passed over (Y/n) and she tucked herself more into Geta's side.

Apart from him and Caracalla, there weren't many, if any, people in here that she knew well enough to trust or talk to. (Y/n) was still finding her feet, she was attending these meetings more to keep on track with what was happening in Rome and to learn rather than to add any opinions or input into the room.

She was too nervous to speak unless Geta struck up a conversation and asked for her opinion and even then, (Y/n) was timid. Geta never pushed her into conversations, he was more than happy to simply have his wife by his side and on his arm. If she didn't want to speak that was fine by him, he would never push her boundaries.

It still felt unusual to sit in the centre of the room, being at the centre of the attention and focus of every other person in the room. (Y/n) was used to some attention, it came with the territory of being born into the upper class. She had to mind her manners, always be elequent when in public and hold her tongue. But being married to an Emperor was something else entirely. It was a whole new level of scrutiny and observation.

At least (Y/n) wasn't the full centre of attention. That fell onto her husband and brother in law. (Y/n) could sit silent by Geta's side and observe and he was the only person who would ask her opinion or ask her to comment. And he tried not to because he could see it made (Y/n) nervous.

When they sat down, Geta propped his chin on one hand and stretched his other arm across to rest on (Y/n)'s thigh. His fingers danced across her skin and the metal rings cladding his fingers tapped against her thigh in a soft, lulling pattern as he tried to concentrate as the meeting began.

The moment everyone began to speak, (Y/n) felt uneasy. No one seemed to wait their turn to speak. These were all men of the world, men of upper class, and yet they couldn't be polite enough to wait until one had finished speaking for another to butt in and make his point. They rose their voices over each other to be heard and to try and get one or both Emperors to listen to them before anyone else.

Their voices were loud enough without the stone walls echoing them and doubling their volume until it felt like needles were scratching down (Y/n)'s spine and stabbing into her ears.

Her fingers began to glide across each of Geta's rings and she tilted her head down to try and study each one, even though she had practically committed each design to memory by now. She needed something to focus on to calm herself down so she could listen to their raised voice in the background. It took patience to endure these meetings and although (Y/n) had abundance of patience, she wasn't sure she had the willpower.

But this was her place. Being beside her husband, listening to state affairs and the problems of Rome. This was where she was supposed to be and (Y/n) didn't dare ask to be removed from these meetings in fear of what people would say. What Geta would say. She didn't want to let him down, not when they had only just married.

Geta nodded aimlessly to the three Senates stood beside Caracalla who were now starting to raise their voices to get their invalid, separate points across. When one particular man rose his voice and his pitch seemed to bounce off the stone walls, Geta looked to his left.

He felt (Y/n) shudder.

Her fingers paused their administrations dancing across his knuckles and she seemed to shrink and jump in her seat when the particular echo vibrated through her ears.

That was something Geta had noticed a lot these past two weeks. He noticed his wife shrink back into his side or pull away when a particularly loud noise or someone's shout sounded loudly nearby. Loud noises never bothered Geta. He had grown up in a palace with strict rules and tutors and people rushing about and making clattering noises at all hours.

He was used to the roaring crowds of the colosseum and the cheering crowds when speeches were given and events were hosted. It was part of his life and his ears had become deafened to raised tones and volumes. Sometimes it slipped his mind that other people might have a sensitivity to things like this. He would have to keep an eye on (Y/n) and take note of what disgruntled her to make sure it didn't occur again.

After another debate that (Y/n) could barely keep track of, she finally stopped trailing her fingers across Geta's rings and hand in favour of squeezing his wrist to gain his attention.

She loved the way his head inclined in her direction and how his ruby red lips formed a living grin even before he knew what she was going to say. His free hand was pressing into his chin and his fingertips were tapping along his lip as if to obscure his smile so only his wife was able to see it.

The way (Y/n) silently circled her finger through the air gave Geta all the information he needed and he nodded, removing his hand from her thigh to allow her to get up. She was going to circle the room and try to get some fresh air from the open doors. Sitting down was making her go stiff and she wasn't engaged in conversation so no one could say anything if she traipsed around the room for a little while.

Her hands smoothed across her dress as if sorting the imaginary creases and her sandals glided agaginst the slabs of stone that scuffed beneath her feet. The subtle click of her sandals against the floor was a soothing sound compared to the voices and hands thrashing down on table tops to get their oblivious points across.

If it would have been socially acceptable to have Arla, her pet, in this meeting with them then (Y/n) would have asked one of the servants to bring her in. But she could just imagine the looks she would receive from all the older men in the room. The looks of distaste and irritation, the snide glances and tuts and eye rolls that it would cause.

After all, (Y/n) was an Empress but she wasn't the highest point of authority in Rome like her husband and her brother in law. If Caracalla ever brought Dondus into the meetings, no one batted an eyelid. No one wanted to be at the end of his temper and receive Caracalla's wrath. (Y/n) was different. She may have a temper, but she would never let it flare or argue with anyone, especially not in front of a crowd.

At least having Arla here with her would have made (Y/n) feel calmer and it would have given her something to put her attention to.

(Y/n) had a sudden, yearning desire to creep out of the door behind her when she stood at the corner of the room near the open doors that led out towards one of the many gardens in the palace. She wanted to disappear outside or head back into the palace and go about her day. She wanted to be away from prying eyes and wait faithfully for Geta rather than to be in here feeling useless and giving very little help or reasoning to this meeting.

She contemplated the thought for a while, that was, until she heard her title being called behind her.

"Empress." The quiet yet gruff voice caused (Y/n) to turn on her heels.

She clasped her hands together in front of her and tilted her head to one side as she looked the Senate up and down. It was Senator Arelius. A gentleman already on the wrong side of middle age with thinning grey hair and gaunt features that made him look toughened and stern.

He seemed to be smiling, but the way his eyes were narrowed down on (Y/n) made her feel unsettled and the slight curve of his lips was frightening rather than inviting.

"Arelius," (Y/n) nodded her head in acknowledgement and put on her best smile as her hands tightened together until the blood was cut off from her fingertips. She tried to be subtle as she took one step to the right so she could glance behind him and cast her eyes towards her husband.

(Y/n) wouldn't want to walk over there and interrupt Geta if he was deep in conversation, but she would rather be back at his side than stood here with a man she didn't trust and hardly knew.

Most of the Senates (Y/n) didn't trust because she knew the way they thought and how they did politics. They were all out for their own gain. When some heard of her betrothal to Geta, they began to get close to (Y/n), to try and befriend her and be on her good side in hopes that she would do them favours with the Emperors. They were wrong. (Y/n) wouldn't be used as a pawn in their games.

She would rather not talk to any of them unless it was strictly necessary.

The conversation between them quickly became stilted and broken and when Arelius turned so he was stood beside (Y/n) rather than in front of her, he looked back towards the Emperors. Both Emperors were on their feet and now stood around the table in the far corner of the room, nodding and observing the notes that they were being presented with.

It was as if Geta could sense their stares because he cast his head to the left and let a smile grace his lips when he looked at (Y/n) before he cast his eyes back down to his notes. A small acknowledgement that he still had her on his mind and that he wasn't too swept away with state business to be thinking of her and making sure she was okay.

"It seems the Emperor doesn't want to let his bride out of his sight. Does he not trust you, my Lady?"

Arelius's words made (Y/n)'s thoughts come to a halt and her expression faltered in panic as she turned to look up at him. Why would he say something like that? What would make him think that?

(Y/n) wasn't someone who needed to be watched at every moment of the day in case she did something wrong. She was not a child who needed supervision, she was Geta's wife. And he didn't have her here in the meeting with them just so he could keep an eye on her. She was here because it was her place and Geta wanted his wife by his side, not someone to keep track over.

"Pardon?" She did her best to steel her voice and hold her head high to show that she didn't believe nor take too kindly to what he was insinuating.

"Maybe the Emperor fears you might become a hinderence if you are left to your own devices."

The way Arelius smiled was as if he was a kindly parent trying to give (Y/n) some kind of advice. She didn't appreciate it. She did not appreciate what he was saying for he was acting as if she was inexperienced in state affairs like this. (Y/n) knew how to act and what to do and how to engage in these conversations, she simply did not wish to engage.

But she always acted respectfully, she never caused any scene or started arguments like the rest of the men in here. She did nothing to make Geta upset or show him up in front of his subserviant men.

(Y/n) could feel tears welling up behind her eyes that she did her best to push away as she tried to take a deep breath to control herself. The last thing she needed was to cause a scene or get upset and prove him right.

Her head tilted back and her chin raised high as she tried to hold herself together and find something to say in rebuttal but she paused when she noticed another Senate clearly listening in on their one-sided conversation. The other Senate was just a little bit younger than Arelius, and he had the kind of smile that was unnerving and made (Y/n) take a step back.

She continued to knot her fingers together as she mustered up the courage to speak her mind.

"Is it not a wife's place to be with her husband, especially an Empress? I think I should witness matters of state, Senator." (Y/n) thought she worded that rather well, and she was telling the truth.

It was her place to be beside Geta, she was his wife, she was supposed to support his decisions and what better way to do that than to witness those decisions being made. Show her support right from the start. If they didn't want (Y/n) here then they had to bring that up with both the Emperors.

"Or to be supervised." The younger Senate, Forin, muttered with one arched brow and his head twisted to the other side as if (Y/n) wasn't worth her time and this conversation wasn't as interesting as he hoped it would be.

"I think I'll take my place now."

(Y/n) took another step to the side and twisted away from both of them. Her place was beside her Emperor, no one else could say that and these two men, however high and mighty they thought of themselves, were not as high as they thought they were. At least not when compared with (Y/n)'s elevated status.

She could go and sit with Geta whereas they would have to fight to bend his ear and get any of his attention. (Y/n) never had to fight for Geta's attention; not once.

One step closer to Geta was all (Y/n) managed before a hand curled around her arm and she was suddenly halted in her pace by his firm grip. He wasn't finished, and he didn't like people walking away from him when he was clearly not done with their conversation.

"I can explain the matters of State for you, so you don't interrupt."

Did he really think (Y/n) would blunder over there and interrupt her husband? Did he think she was a child who needed watching and that she needed everything to be dumbed down and explained to her using pictures?

His words made (Y/n)'s stomach churn but his grip on her arm was what was unsettling her the most. As much as she wasn't a fan of loud noises, (Y/n) really wasn't a fan of personal contact or touch with anyone who wasn't her close family. Geta, Caracalla and her parents were the only people she was okay with being this close to her.

Having a Senate who was clearly unsettled and annoyed with her, grabbing her to pull her back and keep her from 'interrupting' her husband.

Her eyes darted between Arelius and his hand on her arm as her hands clenched and her palms began to sweat.

As if by chance, Geta turned to look behind him again. He thought (Y/n) would have been back by his side by now. She didn't often walk around the room for so long, especially when she didn't tend to talk to anyone during these meetings. She liked to be back by Geta's side and he liked to have her back with him as her presence was calming.

It took Geta a moment to scour his eyes around the hall and find his wife but when he did, his brows furrowed.

Why did Senator Arelius have his hand on Geta's wife?

Geta couldn't think of one valid reason why the Senate would be gripping her like that. The touch was clearly making her uncomfortable and that thought was riling up the bottle of rage that was held within Geta's chest. He could feel it spilling over inside of him like an errupting volcano and it made his blood fizzle and sent colour rushing beneath his painted white cheeks.

He straightened up until his spine clicked into place and he looked as straight as a board with a face that could rival the worst thunderstorm.

Before any of the Senates or his brother gathering round the table had chance to question what had changed Geta's mood so suddenly, he raised his right hand to pause their conversation.

He turned on his heels and stormed away from the table, aiming for the Senate with a blazing fury in his eyes and his jaw ground tight causing his pale cheekbones to pop out. His hands clenched into fists at his sides while he moved to stand directly beside (Y/n), close enough that she could feel his chest brushing up against her arm.

"Is there a problem?" The steely tone to Geta's voice was enough to make the warm summer air turn brisk and damp with cold as if Winter had rolled in without them knowing.

The way his eyes raked up and down Arelius made the elder man shiver and look as if he were about to melt into a puddle on the floor. The scrutiny in Geta's eyes was unnerving and frightening. He was displeased, and no one got away with displeasing an Emperor without a reprimand.

"No Emperor," Arelius smiled nervously and tilted his head back as he tried to calm his rising panic and steady himself.

"Then remove your hand from my wife, unless you wish to lose it."

(Y/n) gasped with the swiftness that Geta moved and how fast his demanour changed. Within an instant, his left arm was secured around her waist, reeling her into his side at the same moment which Arelius let go of her arm. But his right hand moved to push part of his robe to the side so his palm could curl around the handle of his sword.

A threat.

A very clear, menacing threat that told Arelius if he didn't back off, he would lose a limb; possibly his life. Geta was no stranger to being ruthless and he would easily follow through with any threat that he made.

The deep breath that Geta intook made (Y/n) tuck herself more into his side and push back into his firm chest that felt like it was fit to burst. She didn't want a scene to break out, not because of her and not when nothing had really happened except for a mere insult which (Y/n) could brush off and ignore.

"My apologies, Emperor… Empress." Arelius was quick to correct his error and add (Y/n)'s title to the end of his apology when Geta's head turned and his lips pursed into a thin line.

It was not Geta who he needed to be apologising to and if he couldn't be respectful then he needed to leave before he really got on Geta's dark side.

When Arelius backed up towards the corner of the room like a shamed child, (Y/n) glanced up at her husband. Her right hand slithered round to his lower back while her other hand pressed down on his chest as she twisted to face him. Her thumb brushed across his skin and she leaned her head forward into his chest, taking a quick moment to gather her senses and sink into Geta's unwavering embrace.

She felt his lips pressing against her temple and when she tilted her head back to look up at him, he stole a feverish kiss that managed to settle the anger that was still dwelling within him.

Maybe it was time for (Y/n) to depart. Perhaps it would be best if she left the meeting so no other disruptions were caused and they could conclude this meeting. She could meet with Geta afterwards and make sure this debacle was put behind them and reassure him that everything was as it should be.

(Y/n) didn't get the chance to offer a request to leave before she realised she was suddenly walking forwards rather than retreating towards the door. Geta's arm stayed firmly around her waist and he guided her back towards their seats. Back to where his brother was perched on the edge of the table with one leg crossed regally over the other and his hands tapping against his thighs while a smile lit up his face.

He liked confrontation and confliction. Caracalla feeded off the shockwaves and the high tension and he loved to see his twin assert dominance and show just how powerful the pair of them had become. They were the rulers, no one denied them anything or went against them. They would meet the end of a blade if they did.

"Your opinion is required to settle a debate, my love." Geta's words were murmured against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear and his hand feathered up and down her back as he sat down in his chair that was opposite the table. He had no want to stand next to the Senates, he would rather keep some space between them and simmer down.

When (Y/n) moved to try and take a seat beside him, both Geta's hands found her hips and he manovered her gently until she was perched down on his thigh instead. His arm secured around her waist so his hand could feather along her hip and he leant forward until his chin was settled neatly on her shoulder and his lips could attach to the crook of her neck.

He inhaled her scent like she was the air he needed to breathe and when his eyes diverted up to the Senates, they began their debate again.

(Y/n) moved her hands down to hold onto Geta's wrist and her cheek settled on top of his soft hair that felt like feathers tickling her skin. She could feel a point or two from his crown nestling against the base of her chin, but it was comforting rather than uncomfortable.

She loved it when Geta would wrap himself around her like this and want her as close as possible. And the way he held her and hummed into her neck showed he was happy- no, enthralled to be in her presence. He didn't think of (Y/n) as a hindrance like the Senator suggested.

She tried to focus on the way her husband was wrapped around her and how calm he was now that he was in her presence. This was why she had to stay at meetings like these.

How could she refuse when her place was right here by her husband's side?

After all, he was including her in discussions. He wanted her here and he valued her opinion, contrary to what some of the other men in this room might think. (Y/n) didn't want anyone to think badly of her when she had only just married Geta. And she wouldn't want them thinking that she didn't listen to her husband or that she liked to go against his wishes and leave when he wanted her there beside him.

Her place was here, and (Y/n) couldn't leave.

***

(Y/n) leaned her chin on her hand and began to tap her fingers against her cheek as she looked around the dome shaped room.

Another meeting.

The beginning of this meeting had been more fruitful than whatever seemed to be taking place now. For a while, (Y/n) had chipped in with an opinion and she had smiled and felt butterflies swarming through her stomach when Geta grinned proudly at her suggestions and wrote them down. She felt like she was making a bit of a difference and that her opinions were valued. At least by her husband and brother in law.

But now the meeting had turned sour. It wasn't just raised voices, it was arguments going back and forth between different people. The men seemed to have split into segments, little huddling groups arguing over vastly different ideas and topics that were making less and less sense the more they argued.

(Y/n) wanted to go. She wanted to walk out and go take Arla for a walk. She wished she had brought her faithful pet into this meeting, at least then she could have someone to focus on and something to take her mind off her growing panic.

She found her eyes diverting to Geta again when he grunted and slammed his hand down on the table. He wasn't happy. Whatever had been suggested to him was now cast to one side and completely overruled.

She heard him utter "Do shut up." To one of the Senates and as much as his gruff voice should have been off-putting, it made (Y/n) smile inwardly. There was a rough edge to his voice that made (Y/n) shiver.

He was a sight to behold when he took charge like this.

Her eyes didn't stay on him for very long when a group of three Senates began to argue loud enough to start a brawl between them. (Y/n) lifted her head off her hand and sat up straighter in her seat as she observed them with worried, narrowed eyes.

She wasn't sure what they were arguing about, but fingers were wagging and hands were clenching and one began to tut and toss his head back in annoyance.

Another groan vibrated at the back of Geta's throat and he tossed his head back when he heard the familiar voice of Horin starting up an argument. Why did all of these men have to argue like little children fighting over their toys? Could they not grow up and act like men?

Even Geta and Caracalla had never acted in this manner when they were little, although most of their childhood had been spent in rigid tutoring sessions. And fending off their father's unwarranted anger that was always unleashed unfairly onto the twins.

With one hand on the table in front of him, Geta slowly twisted on his heels and let his head loll to one side as he looked for the arguing gentlemen. One brow arched up and his red lips parted with a sigh. The unamused look in his eyes should have been enough to ward off the argument, but the men were taking no notice of him. They didn't seem to notice Caracalla huffing with growing irritation and his foot tapping against the floor.

Those men didn't even have the nerve to raise their opinions to the Emperors, they were arguing between themselves rather than talking calmly with the rest of the room. After all, they would need the Emperors to agree with them if they wanted their point to be taken seriously or their matter to be decided upon. They couldn't make any decisions themselves. That was why Geta and Caracalla were here.

"That's ludacris!" One of them shrieked, and his voice was loud and high enough in pitch to echo off the walls.

Geta took one step away from the table and squared his shoulders before his eyes were casting to the left. He saw the way (Y/n) flinched. Her arms coiled around her chest and she seemed to pull in on herself like she was trying to make herself small and compact or to disappear.

The clear discomfort on her features did something to Geta. It made something twist horribly in his gut and his usually neutral expression weakened for a moment as he looked at her.

He was torn between wanting to go over and dispell the argument and wanting to veer towards his wife and make sure she was alright. It was becoming apparent that distinct and loud noises were unsettling to her and Geta didn't want her to be in those kind of situations if she didn't need to be or if it was going to upset her.

He paused somewhere in between both directions when one of the Senates lashed his hand out and knocked a silver tray of glasses off the table. The bundle of glasses clattered to the floor and fractured into hundreds of sparkling pieces that glimmered in the midday sun and sprinkled across the stone floor.

The tray, however, bounced and each time it hit the stone and wavered back up into the air it caused a horrible thunder to crack through the room.

(Y/n) gasped. She couldn't help it. Her knees coiled up, her eyes snapped closed and her trembling hands moved to cup over her ears to preserve them and save them from the echoing thuds that were getting louder and sending shockwaves through her system.

Her back pressed into the chair and she shrank down as her nails scratched through her hair and into her scalp. She wanted them to stop. Why did they have to resort to lashing out when their arguments were getting them nowhere? Why couldn't they talk things out like calm, sensible men?

The way (Y/n) reacted sealed Geta's direction and had him turning towards her. He needed to remove her from this situation before she got upset, and he needed all of these idiots bundled up in this room to understand that this kind of behaviour wasn't acceptable.

He would have made it towards (Y/n), if it weren't for Arelius's voice that stopped Geta in his tracks and sent all his blood rushing to his head.

"The Empress is but a child; a hindrance."

Geta moved before anyone could blink. He thundered in (Y/n)'s direction but walked three feet past her chair to where Arelius was standing. Clearly he either hadn't anticipated the Emperor hearing his words or he thought Geta might agree with him. The nerve!'

But it was the movement of his right hand, gripping the sword on his waist that made all murmurs cease and had all eyes on them.

He removed the sword strapped to his waist and yeilded it expertly, twisting his wrist and thrusting forward until the end of the blade was pressing uncomfortably against Arelius's trachea. He used the blade to tilt Arelius's head back until his neck was pressing out and showing off his Adam's apple and each gulp of air he took was visible to everyone in the room.

Nobody moved. Not a single word was uttered as they all waited in anticipation and slight horror to see what the Emperor would do.

Intrigue pooled in Caracalla's eyes as he pushed forward from the table he was leaning against, being the first person in the room to make a move. Although he didn't move far. He walked until he was stood beside (Y/n)'s chair almost as if he were acting as a guard for her. His head inclined to one side and a smile lit up his face, showing off his golden tooth as he watched his twin.

He was eager to see what Geta would do and if he would be the first Emperor to spill blood during a political meeting like this. Caracalla would certainly cheer him on and back him up if that was what his brother wanted to do.

"Out."

That one word seethed past Geta's lips as his chest rose and fell like the tides crashing against the shore. It felt like his lungs were going to burst and each breath was physically paining him. It was like Geta was controlling all of the rage inside of him and it was putting pressure on each and every organ within him. His stomach was churning. His heart was desperately trying to break free and wrap itself around (Y/n) and his nerves were twisting themselves into knots.

"I- I-"

"Emperor-" Whoever it was that tried to step in to dissolve the situation clamped their mouth shut immediately when Caracalla sneered at them. His brother didn't need any help sorting out this situation. The Emperors were in charge and they could serve out any punishment and give any command they saw fit.

"Out. Before the hilt is buried in your throat." To prove his point, Geta clenched his hand tighter around the blade and pushed until the tip of the sword began to scratch into Arelius's neck.

The sharp blade easily cut through the first few layers of skin and had a slow trickle of blood slithering directly down his throat and soaking into the pale cream robes he was wearing.

If he wanted his life to be spared then Arelius needed to back away and leave the room before Geta changed his mind. Because it was becoming more and more desirable to thrust his sword through the Senate's throat and watch it carve out the other side.

But he didn't want to do that; not in front of (Y/n). Not when Geta knew seeing blood being shed by his own hands would not push his wife into his open arms. He didn't want to do anything that would push her away or upset her any further. Geta never wanted to do that.

When Arelius stepped back and slowly removed his throat from being pressed into the blade, he watched how Geta's arm stayed locked in place. Holding his threat that he was one second away from following through with.

Arelius pressed his palm against his throat, gasping and swallowing heavily as he turned on his heels and departed the room like a mutt with its tail between its legs.

Once he was gone and the doors were swung wide open in his wake, Geta finally moved. His movements felt stiff and broken as he thrust his sword back into the belt strapped around his waist and he turned in his wife's direction.

She no longer had her hands clasped over her ears, but she was starting to shake and her eyes were focused on the floor like she was too afraid to look up and see the faces of all the people staring at them. At her.

Shivers coursed up and down (Y/n)'s spine and she gasped when Geta's hand was suddenly enveloped around her own and he pulled her to her feet. Her free hand curled around his arm and she hurriedly smothered her face into his arm and glued herself into his side like she wished she could use Geta as a shield to hide herself from everyone in this room.

"This meeting is over." Geta's voice was rugged and his jaw clenched tight as he steered (Y/n) towards the doors.

He wasn't waiting around to finish this rather pointless meeting. If no one could be civil and talk like adults rather than petty children then this wasn't going ahead. And Geta certainly wasn't sitting around and waiting for this to finish when (Y/n) was upset and needed to leave.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and meshed her face into the back of Geta's shoulder, allowing him to steer her down the hall and up the stairs. She didn't have to open her eyes to know where he was taking her. Their room. He wanted to talk and he wasn't doing that until they were in the privacy of their room with no prying ears trying to listen in.

She could feel each deep, ragged breath Geta took as he stormed up the stairs and practically kicked their chamber door open.

When he led her inside, (Y/n) slowly unravelled her hands from his arm and retracted from his side so she could sit down on the end of their bed. Her feet began to tap and jitter against the floor and her hands quickly fisted into her dress and her nails began to scratch up and down her knees.

Was Geta angry with her? Did he think she had caused a scene? Did he think she was a hindrance like the rest of his council seemed to believe?

"I'm sorry… I- I didn't mean to interrupt the meeting." (Y/n) kept her eyes cast down on her hands that were almost shaking as she scratched deeply into her knees to try and gain some control over her bubbling emotions. She didn't want to cry and she didn't want to seem weak, but Arelius's recent words had cut deep.

Her teeth sank down into her lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep a stoic expression on her face and keep any tears at bay. But her eyes went round when Geta's hand suddenly pressed beneath her chin and her head was tilted back to look up at him.

He stood in front of her, close enough that he was pressing up against her legs and his chin was aimed down so he could look down on her properly. But the way Geta's thumb traced her chin and reached up to brush along her lower lip had (Y/n) at a loss for words.

"What on God's Earth are you sorry for? It is Arelius who should be apologising to you."

(Y/n) didn't have a response to that. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Arelius had been cruel but his words had worried (Y/n). She worried she was becoming a hindrance, that Geta might regret marrying her or think she was weak or being silly or that she was interfering like Arelius had previously suggested. She would never want Geta to think of her like that.

"But you- you don't believe that I'm in the way, or need supervising, do you?"

The rage that seeped into Geta's eyes made (Y/n) want to cower down, but she knew that it wasn't directed at her. He wasn't angry with her. He was furious that someone would have suggested such a thing and made (Y/n) feel that way when there was absolutely no truth to the matter whatsoever.

Her eyes followed him as he seemed to debate whether to start pacing up and down the room or to sit beside her. He chose to sit down, against his better judgement considering how riled up he was now beginning to feel. His hand reached across to clasp around (Y/n)'s and when she leaned her head on his shoulder, Geta twisted to merge his lips with the top of her head.

"I don't believe that for a moment, my love." He murmured as he began to stroke his thumb up and down the back of her hand.

It was clear Geta was pushing the subject of Arelius to one side. He didn't want to upset (Y/n) any further and he would soon have a word with his brother and see what they could do to deal with this traitor and make an example of him. Because Geta wouldn't allow anyone else to think they could talk to (Y/n) like this or upset her.

He would try and push those thoughts to the back of his mind until he was in his brother's company. For now, he would focus on his wife and making sure that she was okay and happy.

"But you do not enjoy these meetings, do you?"

(Y/n) nudged her nose against Geta's shoulder, debating her answer and how truthful she wanted to be. "No, I don't. That room echoes, everything is too loud and their yells and anger are unnecessary; I don't like their shouts."

Anything such as those meetings or public events where they had to stand before a rowding crowd was unsettling. The games were even worse as the colosseum seemed to amplify any noise tenfold and deafen every spectator. (Y/n) didn't know how her husband could laugh and thrive in such environments as those.

"You don't have to attend any further meetings, my love." Geta's words clearly confused (Y/n) for she lifted her head from his shoulder with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

"But… but I should attend, it's my place-"

"Your place is always by my side, but I won't have you somewhere you don't feel comfortable. The Senate can't refuse if I excuse you from any and all further meetings you do not wish to attend."

If Geta told his council and the Senates that (Y/n) was not to attend any further meetings, that should be the end of it. They had no authority to question him or ask why or demand that (Y/n) attend. In the back of his mind Geta knew none of those fools would demand (Y/n) be at the meetings, they never asked her opinions, even if they thought what she said was credible once Geta asked for her advice.

They wouldn't bat an eyelid if she weren't there, although they would ask why. They could ask, but they wouldn't receive any response. Geta didn't have to explain any of his rulings to them, he answered to no one. Not even the Gods.

"You won't think bad of me?"

"Never. And anyone who questions your absence will meet their fate by my blade."

The feeling of his hand cupping her face was electrifying and when he tilted her head back so their lips could meet, his touch was heavenly. No one would question this and no one would have the right to make any comments. And Geta certainly wouldn't think bad of her.

He only wished for her happiness, and he would do whatever was in his power to make that happen.

#imagine #emperor geta imagine #emperor geta x reader #geta imagine #geta x reader #gladiator imagine #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #emperor caracalla #joseph quinn

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madwomansapologist · 6 months ago

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you make loving fun | nanami kento x mom!reader

after years of pain and grief, nanami found himself going home for a placed filled with love and care. he wasn't there at the start, but he will be there until the very end. it's a promise.

cw: papamin au. step!dad!nanami. kid!yuji. fluff fluff fluff. domesticity. found family. the happy ending they both deserve.

an: inspired by this post from @froody and my own experience as someone who had a dad who not only stteped up, but levelled up.

Five minutes before the end of his shift, Nanami put on his coat and muted his notifications.

Staring at the analog clock, Nanami noticed he never did that before. He was never one to rush away from the office. One to get ready, to make sure no one could bother him, and wait for his free time to finally begin.

For how long was he the last to go home? Don't forget to turn off the lights, Nanami would hear that every night from whoever left before him. And make sure to lock the doors. Did he ever said that to someone? No. Probably no.

Once if felt useful. To work overtime was to get stronger to defeat curses. And in a world you won't gain anything for free, extra hours can feel less like a option and more like a duty. Sometimes you can be guilty for not working. It can feel wrong to just live.

But back then Nanami would come back to a empty house, sleep in a cold bed and not say a single word until the next morning. Back then there was no one waiting for him by the door, smiling simply because he came back. Back then he wasn't waiting for anything expect silence.

"Good night, 'amin", and after only twenty minutes he was parking in front of your house, watching how Yuji had to stand on his toes to reach the handle of the main door.

You told him last week Yuji would turn down the volume of his shows and videogames whenever a car passed near your home. He said Nanami drives so carefully he can always tell when to open the door.

"Good night, Yuji." Nanami locked the car, now feeling how cold it was out there. It rained this morning, the road is still wet. He opened his coat to protect Yuji from the wind, and then noticed he was still wearing his uniform. "You haven't showered yet?"

Yuji gave him a bright smile. "Mom's doing a surprise for you."

In moments like that, Nanami can see your shadow lingering over Yuji. He really is a copy of his mom. That charming smile, a tendency to avoid the subject of discussion, and that trick of revealing something exciting so their wrongdoing can be ignored.

"And what's your mom doing, kid?" And just like with you, Nanami always fall for that obvious trap.

"It depends", he said. "Will you watch Caillou with me?"

Nanami blinked. That kid. "Of course", Nanami accepted the deal, stroking his pink hair as they entered the house.

"I dunno", Yuji walked straight towards the living room, leaving Nanami speachless.

He placed his glasses on the table, now working on the knot of his tie. The aroma evolving the entire house was a telltale of your baking, and the sounds coming from his belly reminded Nanami of how long it has been since his last meal.

Deep into your own inner thoughts, you didn't noticed his presence. Nanami made sure to keep quiet, admiring you as you made sure you followed the recipe correctly.

So beautiful. Unaware of his gaze, he knew there was no flourish in the way you moved or how you murmured a song playing inside your head. You weren't trying to charm him, you were just being you, and that was more than enough for Nanami to fall in love with you once more.

It still surprises Nanami. How easy it's to love you. To be in love with you. None of you are performing. There is no lies between you two. Not when Nanami holds your hair so you can vomit. Or when you hear all the complains he kept to himself for years. Nothing but truth when you worried about Yuji's grades, when Nanami cried loudly watching a k-drama with you on the couch, when you sneezed on his mouth.

You make life real. You make loving fun.

It doesn't feel like work.

But that doesn't mean things suddenly get perfectly fine when you both are together. Nanami noticed you're still wearing formal clothes. Your eyes seemed so small, glaring at the phone as if it was miles away instead of in the counter in front of you. You haven't taken your earring off yet.

This house is safe. You made sure to build it with love, brick by brick. To give your son everything a child deserves: to be happy, protected, cared for. And there is no way of doing that alone without working until exhaustion.

But you're not alone anymore.

You haven't noticed his presence, and still Nanami didn't felt you shivering when he hugged you from behind. You recognized him. Was it his perfume? The warmth of his hands? Or perhaps how they always find a way to hold you by the hips, feeling the soft skin with his fingers?

"Yuji's gonna be a attorney", he whispered against your ear. You melt against his chest, eyes now wide open and looking deep into his. Nanami wondered if you felt his heart racing.

You smiled. "Are you saying my son is an asshole?"

"Never, my dear", Nanami hid his face at the curve of your neck. Breathing deep, he felt you shivering. You were using the perfume he gave you. "You're tired."

You sighed. Nanami is a man of few words. Sadly he's also a man of surgically right few words. "And so are you."

He kissed your skin. "I can keep an eye on him", Nanami murmured. "And another on the oven. You don't need to worry."

"Are you sure?" Tempted to accept, you also didn't want Nanami to feel like you were part of his daily duties. You rather give than take from him.

Nanami squeezed your hips, slowly allowing you to go away from him. He needed you to go, but he also needed you to stay. "This house won't burn down just because you stopped working."

"Oh, but it will. I assure you", you laughed it off.

Nanami knew it wasn't just a joke. He could almost taste that bitterness that follows truth. "It won't. I won't allow it."

When he heard you closing the bathroom door—never locking because a part of you was always ready to run if Yuji needs help—, Nanami sat down on the couch. Yuji held the control, so big on his tiny hands, and put on the show he always watches when Nanami is there with him.

This time Caillou was eating some sort of chocolate dessert. Yuji moved his mouth, quietly saying the lines from every character. "Isn't it your favorite series ever?", Yuji asked, laughing as Caillou tried to eat the dessert. "Everything he eats looks so good!"

"I never watched something so great", Nanami gazed at him. It was the forth time Nanami watched this episode. "I like that one when he plants carrots. You should try eating those."

Yuji made a face. "I prefer chocolate pudding."

Nanami looked at the television. He would be free the next day. Yuji behaved well in school recently. You mentioned even thinking about buying him a new video game. "We can make it tomorrow."

Yuji turned around so quickly he almost fell from the couch. "Really?"

"Really."

Drying your face with a towel, you checked the oven. The bread you made was still growing. Good. The television had a cartoon going on, you turned it off and went after your boys.

At Yuji's bedroom, you found him deep asleep. Nanami took off his shoes and socks, covering him with a thick blanket. He was still wearing his uniform, but he looked so at peace you couldn't force yourself to care deeply about it.

You kissed his forehead, whispered sweet nothings, and went back to the living room. A few moments later, Nanami turned the lights off and closed the bedroom door.

Sitting besides you, Nanami knew.

Life was good again.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

general taglist: @lovelyy-moonlight

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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shotmrmiller · 5 months ago

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pretend boyfriend but it's in a time where roads are nothing more than muddy tracks, making travel slow and cumbersome. the town's buildings are a mix of weathered wood and crumbling brick, faded paint peeling off their facades. wanted posters, yellow and tattered, are plastered on every available surface, faces of outlaws and fugitives who roam the countryside depicted in greyish ink.

the townsfolk go about their lives with a wary eye, and you go about yours with a sharp one, in search of opportunity: a cowboy too drunk off his wits to know his right from his left. the humble borough of blackthorn doesn't need any more working girls, no more ladies with hair down to their corseted waists beautifying the arms of both bounty hunters and farm hands alike.

that's fine, you reckon. you've always had a knack for survival. your deft fingers have made a living out of slipping into pockets and relieving men of their hard earned coin pouches when they lose themselves in drink and laughter. its not an easier life than that of the ladies in the saloon but it's yours, and you've learned to navigate it with equal cunning and charm.

but as people say, anything that can go wrong, will and tonight nothing seems to go right for you. just as you'd been slipping the stolen bills from your latest mark in between the swell of your breasts, he stirs from his drunken sleep, bedsheet tangled in his spurs as he struggles to rise onto unsteady feet. his movements are sluggish, muddy brown eyes blinking against the dim light of the quaint room.

you don't wait for him to ask any inane questions, you know when you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. you run out the door on bare feet, fisting the rough fabric of your dress to lift it above your ankles as you barrel down the stairs.

your shoulders ache from bumping into patrons as you try to quickly weave your way toward the door, your breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. the saloon is a blur or faces and noise, the jaunty tune coming from the piano as fast paced as the galloping of your heart.

just as you reach the swinging doors, you glance outside through the dusty window panes and see someone right across the street in the patio of the drugstore.

the star on his chest gleaming even in the flickering light of the shop is distinctive. your heart sinks like a stone dropped into a well, the weight of the situation leaden over your puffed shoulders.

but you haven't made it this far while skirting around law and order without a sharp mind. your thoughts swirl in your mind as you run through options. a horse loosely tied to the hitching post out front, sleeping roll behind the saddle. you could take it but risk getting roped off by someone. slipping out the windows would draw too much attention. using the back door near the kitchen would have the owner on your arse.

shit. shit-

then you spot him. sitting alone at a table is a hulking, beast of a man. (his broad shoulders and burly frame makes him resemble more mountain than man tbh.) a small shot glass rests on the scratched surface before him, the only delicate item in his vicinity. the wide-brimmed hat he wears casts a shadow over his face but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable. maybe that's why even the other patrons have given him a wide berth. (the knotted scar that runs from the corner of his cheek pulling his lips into a permanent, twisted sneer makes the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end.)

desperation fuels your next move.

your hand trembles when you place it on the the exposed skin of his forearm that's covered in a fine layer of grime, as does your voice when you speak.

"hey-" you don't get to finish your sentence, feeling the words crumble into ash on your tongue when you realize you're out of time. the drunken idiot from upstairs is storming straight towards you, his nostrils flared, white etched on his knuckles. panic surges through you and so you move.

coming to stand behind the seated stranger, your arms cradle his large head, clammy palms flat on the sweat stained fabric of his union shirt. his body tenses under your touch, muscles cooling like a spring, but you muster all the bravado you can.

"if ya got a problem with me," your voice is steady despite the fear that's settled at the base of your spine, "take it up with my husband."

the drunk comes to an abrupt halt, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion, uncertainty, as he glances between you and the human(?) shield you're clinging to.

the room has fallen silent, all eyes on the unfolding drama. they watch with bated breaths, even the bartender had paused mid-polish, his hand frozen on the glass.

the man wavers, his resolve crumbling like freshly tilled dirt before you. but the final nail in the coffin is when your 'husband' grabs onto your arm and leads you to sit onto his lap, both your legs fitting on top of his one, feeling the tarnished buckle of his leather belt even through the couple of layers of your dress on your arsecheek, his arm cinching tightly around your waist.

his skin feels rough, scarred, yet warm, beneath your hand. (embarrassing that this surprises you.)

you can feel his voice vibrate from his chest and sink into your bones when he aids you in this mess you've created. "ya 'eard m'wife. piss off 'fore i make you."

his mouth twists into an ugly line but concedes defeat, telling your 'husband' to "keep his wh-wife on a tighter leash unless she's keen on ending up on a missing poster alongside the wanted ones."

when you turn in his lap to look outside the window, watching the drunk unsteadily get on his horse and leave, you give the man you're on a muted thanks and move to get up only-

the arm around your waist feels more like an iron band. you're can't get up. you can't leave. your feet don't even touch the wooden floorboards of the saloon. you turn your wide eyes toward him, lips parted in surprise.

he doesn't seem as surprised as you.

"wha'? thought you could jus' up and go 'bout your way?"

you open your mouth wider, to scream maybe, you aren't sure but he cuts you off with a sharp suck of his teeth.

"make trouble and there will be trouble. i'll drag your pretty arse to the sheriffs office by the hair."

the realization of what he is keeps you utterly frozen in place, any fight you'd had bleeding out of you.

a bloody bounty hunter. no wonder everyone had kept their distance.

"i'm gonna be finishin' this bottle and you'll be a good wife and draw me a bath in our hotel room."

(he plucks the dirty money from where you'd kept it and tosses it on the bar top, carrying you straight to where he'd hitched his horse and plops you in front, your back to his barrel of a chest. "youll bathe with me, gotta have you clean for our consummation.")

#i lost all will to continue halfway through idk if you can tell lmao #i went from this is a genius idea to this seems fucking stupid actually #oh well #he lets you run away a max of two times on foot before you come back on your own cuz there are wolves around #:(#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader

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phantomwithbreakfast · 2 months ago

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~ Danny Phantom ~

“What does it feel like? To be terrified of yourself—of what you are becoming? The future looms not like an open road but a trap, a dark inevitability. You’re not waiting for it, not watching for it. You’re running. Trying to ignore the whispers in your head, lying to yourself that it’s fine, that it’ll always be fine.”

When the sun goes under the line called a horizon, the night sky comes to life. A silvery moon’s light bathing the eerie glow of an aura, catching the shadow out of the black.

The darkness surrounded him, with little sparks of hope. Stars that couldn’t catch him, neither he could catch.

His veins flowing with cold fire, tingling skin feeling intangible. A mind that’s filled with hollow, yet spiraling in chaos. Split into divergent, until down and dusk.

Why are you doing this to me? You leave me standing here, can’t you see. I was lost in your eyes, this was never meant to arise. You were my hero, always to be. But now you’ve vanished, you’re no longer with me.

We tried to carry on, but it wasn’t right. Forever burned in memory, like a song in the night.

Why does this hurt, hurt so much. It was never meant to be, as such. You gave me strength to stand alone, but now I cry when I’m on my own. Drowning inside, lost in a sea, why are you doing this to me? It makes me weak, a strange kind of ache, you’ll never understand the pain I take.

The memories keep running on, of how it used to be, before you were gone. The hero you were is no longer here, you flew away, so light, like a feather near. Don’t do this to me, please come back.

I still wonder why it had to be this way, so much potential, yet it all went astray. You went a different path, never to be seen, this wasn’t meant to happen, it was too obscene.

It lingers like a song, etched in my mind, it should have brought us joy, a love so kind. Like a song, will you ever return?

When will you be here again? I miss you more with every grain. Forever chained within my heart, I bring you to life through every art. In my memory, you’ll always remain, and beside you, I’ll forever stand.

“I want to cry, I want to scream, but I can’t. I mustn’t.”

The storm raged on, tearing through the night. Shadows of fear and regret clung to her like chains.

“Take my hand,” Danny said, his voice calm, cutting through the chaos.

“Why? So you can watch me crumble? So I can drag you down with me?”

His eyes softened, but his hand never wavered. “If you crumble, I’ll catch you, I’ll follow. Just trust me.”

“You… don’t understand.”

“I don’t need to understand,” he said softly. “I’ll carry you, no matter what happens, I’ll never let you fall.”

Slowly and with a trembling hand, she reached for him. Their fingers met, and his grip was strong, cold but alive—everything she thought she’d lost.

The chaos began to still, and she felt the faint echo of something she thought was gone.

Hope.

Those were random texts I wrote through the years of my own existence.

———————

You can read my Phan Fics on FanFiction.net. PhantomWithBreakfast

———————

Note to myself again…

About the drawings, I was just playing (practicing) with lighting, shading, etc…

Expressions, mouths... Yeah, still working on that. I was too lazy to shade the hair, lol.

Still hate drawing hands.

And the funny thing is, just because I’m drawing every day, I’ll always find new ways to try to improve my art (duh). Because I’m never happy when I’ve ‘finished’ one.

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year ago

Text

Hanging By A Moment

Bayverse Transformers x Reader Blurbs

Word Count: 940 Warnings: None

Author's Note: I love TF so much. I miss it all lol -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Ironhide:

“This is…different,” she notes as she arrives into the darkened field; the veil of the moon blankets the land in an ivory haze, yet Ironhide’s sleek body is visible from even the edge. It’s remote enough that they don’t have to worry about being seen; she nears him with a curious look on her face. “Ironhide?”

His tailgate lowers and with a surprised expression that quickly gives way to a pleasant smile, she climbs onto the back, kicks her shoes off, and lays down on the makeshift bedding, resting her head on the pillow.

“Did you do this all for me?” she asks. “Aren’t you so sweet underneath all that firepower.”

“Have to treat my best girl, don’t I?” Ironhide teases back. “You’ve been working awfully hard lately. Even I know to take a break once in a while.”

She hums and curls into the blankets, almost feeling like they’re keeping warm and toasty. “No rest for the wicked, Ironhide. The Decepticons won’t wait while I rest.”

He grumbles, deep and low, and she can’t help but laugh. “Then you’ll rest, and I’ll kick ass.”

“Okay, bud,” she jokes, resting her head back on the pillow. “Take care of me while I rest.”

***

Rachet:

“When I said I wanted to spend some time alone with you, Rachet…this isn’t necessarily what I meant.”

His frame rumbles as he slows to a stop on the side of the canyon. “I can turn around, if you’d like?”

“You better not,” she warns and points a finger at the steering wheel. “You promised to take me out to the stars.”

She can hear the smile in his hum as he starts driving again. “When you mentioned you’ve always wanted to see the stars up close, I figured this would be the best I could give you.” He shifts back the roof, and her eyes widen at the expanse of bright stars above her.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, unable to help but stand up in the front seat, rising out of the rooftop. “Rachet, it’s…it’s incredible.”

He slows to a stop at the edge and stills. “It’s almost as incredible as you are. But somehow, their brightness can’t even come close to how beautiful you shine.”

Slipping back into the seat, she reaches forward and gently presses her lips to his steering wheel. “Thank you, Rachet. For doing this for me…for us.”

***

Bumblebee:

It’s almost one AM by the time they make it back into the city. Eerily enough, the roads are almost empty, and Bumblebee has a straight shot back to the facility, but he passes the particular highway that leads to it.

She notices from her sleepy haze in the passenger seat. “Bee? You missed the turn.”

He makes a noise that she recognizes as his answer of “Yes.”

“Where are we going?” she’s not worried in the slightest, knows that Bumblebee wouldn’t ever take her somewhere she could get hurt; she’s still curious though.

“Don’t worry about it,” a voiceover from a TV show filters through and she snorts tiredly.

“Alright, Bee, keep your secrets.” She shifts in his seat and reclines back, unable to help but trace the threading in the console. “You takin’ me home, Bee?”

“Take me home tonight!” he sings, and she smiles, gently shutting her eyes as the streetlights still shine across her face as they pass between shadows.

“I’m happy, Bee,” she murmurs. “You know that? I’m always happy with you.”

He’s silent for a long while and she wonders if maybe he didn’t hear her, but it doesn’t bother her as she curls up in the passenger seat and begins to drift off, only to hear quietly through the speakers, “I’m living for the only thing I know. I’m running and not quite sure where to go. And I don’t know what I’m diving into, just hanging by a moment here with you.”

***

Optimus:

“Sorry about the rain, Optimus,” she murmurs as they take shelter in the rundown warehouse. “I can’t imagine it’s going to let up…we’ll be here for a while.”

She watches as steam begins to flow from his body, fans in his processors blowing until the water is simply droplets here and there.

“That’s handy,” she jokes, and he meets her gaze with a smile.

“While rust isn’t a big a worry to myself as it is Ironhide, I’d rather not take any chances.”

She nods and takes off her jacket, wringing it out. “It’ll be dark soon. We should set up a perimeter.” The echoing of his transformation sounds in the warehouse, and she looks up. “Optimus?” His door opens and closes a few times until she gets the hint to climb in.

As she enters, the cab opens, and she slips further inside. It’s smaller than she imagined, given that outside he’s much larger but she assumes he’s somehow made some room for her. It’s a small bedding, smaller than a door, but enough that she can curl up on it, propping her arm under her head. She’s about to say it’s cold when the fans blow again and fill the cab with a warmth that feels like she wrapped herself in a blanket straight out of the drier.

And he knows it too as he asks, “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” she murmurs and scoots back until her back is against the wall of his cab; it feels good to have him at her back, safe and secure. “I think I could lie here forever.”

“When there is peace, my spark,” he says. “We will lie forever.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” and she knows his words ring with truth.

#transformers bayverse #bayverse transformers #bayverse transformers x reader #transformers x reader #ironhide x reader #ironhide #rachet x reader #rachet #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee #optimus x reader #optimus #optimus prime x reader #optimus prime #transformers

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pressureplus · 5 months ago

Note

I actually have this request in my head for a while now... but I'm not sure if you be up to do it so thank to let me know if you will do it or not. Fem! Reader who is happily married and live together with Sebastian (when he still human). Until, Sebastian was arrested and sentence to dead. Reader found no long after his dead that she was pregnant. Years later, Sebastian manage to escape Hadal Blacksite probably very injured in the process. He was soon spotted by the kid that look similar to his human self (the kid probably be now close to be a teenager now), as the kid call up their mother. Sebastian was shocked to see his wife come to view.

I'm looking 👀

Love this dramatic shit, I'm SO here for it!

I'm going to be referring to your son as S/N, so y'all can name your boy yourselves! (I'm real interested in the stuff you might choose, so if you wanna put them in the replies, I'd love to see your baby names!)

Smaller Hands

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: [Unnamed]

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, an Absent Father, injury, and Imprisonment

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had been running a very long time before he got to where he was now.

Escaping the Blacksite was only the beginning of his long, long journey home. He had wrestled himself from the depths of the deep ocean and fought his way all the way up to the light far, far above him.

Breaking through the surface of the water had provided him with a hope he never thought he'd see truly grow into something he could really hold. Sunlight and open air and a horizon that stretched endlessly in every direction... Sebastian hadn't known freedom in over 10 years, but there it was.

The way the natural light caught the glint of his wedding ring had him already tearing through the water with a grin, energy back in his tired body. It certainly wasn't his original ring, no, that one wouldn't fit on his new, much larger hand anymore, but the replacement that he got so he could wear a ring on his hand and not just as a pendant was enough of a visual reminder of his love, sending him treading the water the way this body was made to do. He had to get to his wife.

He had to see his Y/N again. That's always what his efforts were for.

It was days before he even reached a beach, and weeks of dragging himself through the shadows and the alleyways, keeping himself out of sight. He would squint at road maps and try to figure out how he was going to get himself home, not very well able to get on the public transport or drive himself there with a body like this. He had to be more than a little creative with how he was going to cross the countless miles between his lover and himself if he wanted to make it there at all. He'd spend his seemingly endless days hopping trains and swimming rivers just to close the distance faster, like it may wash away the last decade he's had to go without her.

Sebastian could only hope she waited for him, though those chances were next to none. She had been there the day he was 'executed', watching him get taken back to the chair that was supposed to put his story to its end. She has every right and reason to think he died that day, and he could never be angry or upset if she decided she still needed to be held the way his other hands used to hold her... Would these hands even fit her anymore? They'd outgrown his first ring... Would they be too big to hold hers anymore? The painful thought was a reoccurring one, and it plagued every dream he had in the moments he would manage to rest.

He's nearing his old cottage now, beaten and scarred from the long trip home, more than a little bit tired and definitely hungry. He's barely going to make it if he manages to get to the doorstep at all, but more thankful than ever he'd made his home with her outside of the city and out into the woods so he might have a moment to his thoughts. He could very well find her with another man, or he could find a completely new family, or even find nothing but flowers and trees- The life that he made with her could be all but ashes on a breeze that swept this place years ago. She could be a memory and this could all be for nothing just as easily as anything else. He wouldn't even have a right to be angry... He wouldn't even feel a right to cry if she's decided to move on.

"SNAKE MAN! SNAKE MAN!!!"

He's shaken from his pondering by an unfamiliar voice, a starry eyed child fumbling out of the bushes like a little animal.

He nearly panics and flees before the brave, feral little boy reaches out for his hand and looks up at him like something right out of a story book- Which, he supposed may be fair given the way that he looks now.

"Are you a forest monster!? Do you grant wishes and eat people and stuff?!" It's clear the boy doesn't know fear, young and small still, with new eyes... But familiar ones.

Sebastian's heart drops into his stomach when he begins to recognize the thick, dark hair and deep brown eyes. This boy is the spitting image of the way he looked when he was around 10 or 11... It's like he's been pulled right from Sebastian's old childhood photos.

Too dumbfounded to speak, Sebastian stands there, every muscle in his body tense while his eyes flick around the boy's face trying to figure out how this could be.

"S/N! What are you doing talking to strangers, you were supposed to be at least playing in the yard and not the woods before the sun started setting." Y/N rounds the trees with a stubborn look on her face and immediately freezes when her gaze meets Sebastian's.

The air is knocked out of the both of them, leaving them only able to stare, and he notes the way she's remained nearly the same as the day that he was forced to leave her behind. Like a flower that never wilts, she stands as beautiful and as amazing as she was when he had first met her. Frozen with an expression he can't place, she makes no motion to do anything at all. The larger man acts first at the realization she must be frightened of him, going to put his two unheld hands up and open his mouth to explain himself-

"You said not to talk to strangers, this is CLEARLY a forest monster." Little S/N beats both of them to the punch and confirms to Sebastian all at once that his attitude is as strong in his blood as that unruly dark hair is.

"Heed your mother, would you? I could very well eat you." Sebastian ushers the child forward with a playful threat, the boy in reference pouting and looking back up at him.

"Come on, I'm only out a little bit late! It's not dark yet! Monsters only eat people in the dark." The boy argues, unfamiliar with the idea of real danger, it seems, but certain of himself the way only children really can be.

"Sebastian I can't believe it... Is it you? Am I losing my mind?" Putting the scolding and corrections on her son's statements off for a better time, Y/N looks up at the mutated form of her lover, hoping she might be right. When Y/N speaks, it's soft and uncertain, a hand going to rest on her child's shoulder so as not to lose him while she's distracted.

"You recognize me?" His heart practically jumps into his throat and he struggles to cope with how quickly she's guessed it was him.

"If not for the way one soul knows another, then for your voice and... Our ring." Unafraid just as well, she walks right up to the towering creature and brings her hand up to the necklace it's strung onto around his neck.

"Am I too late?" Sebastian asks, still scared.

"You're late, but never too much. You had better come home now though." She gets firm near the end and he laughs, melting.

"Awe that's no fair! I'm in trouble for being a few minutes late and he gets to be gone forever!" The boy whines and Y/N seems to laugh when she ruffles his hair.

"You can be out of trouble because it's a special day. Now, let's go home and get you to bed." Y/N's eyes stray back up to her husband, the fondness that was there in those beautiful eyes he fell in love with was something that had grown blurry and hard to recall until now. The way her gaze rested on him so softly brought him back like he'd never left in the first place.

"I think I have some things to talk about with your monster, here." She smiles at him and goes to slide her hand into his, the cold feeling against his palm of her own ring -the matching one to his from the promise that they'd made at that altar a long time ago- made him feel warm again, and made him feel alive.

"Yes, I've got a lot of things I've been waiting to tell her for these years we've spent apart."

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bamsara · 1 year ago

Note

Would Tyren ever hurt The Lamb, or does he genuinely have [what he assumes to be] their best interests in heart?

He genuinely (in his own mind) has their best interest at heart.

Tyren being one of the most trusted flock members and one of the closest they have aside from Finor puts him in a position of seeing more of the Lamb then they are willing to share to the rest of their flock in a more proffesional manner (but no where near to what extent Narinder sees, not that Tyren knows that)

He, like the rest of the flock, does not like to see the Lamb in distress or be stressed and genuinely cares for them, sticks up for them in cases of dissention, and dislikes Narinder for the same reasons a lot of people do: distrust due to the cat's off-putting mannerisms and violent history. He doesn't like that Lamb is spending quite a lot of time with Narinder, someone who Tyren sees as a threat both in a saftey AND jealously type of way.

He's one of their most trusted, perhaps a loyalty enforcer or (now with the new feature in the update) even could be a diciple. Tyren is not just one of the Lamb's trusted, but the Lamb's friend.

So he might take it upon himself to make sure his dear friend and focus of his affection won't concern themselves any longer with anything that might put them in stress, say like: helping with cult chores, or cleaning outhouses, managing strong responsibilities like the food distribution during a famine or re-educating a dissenter, or the presence of a three-eyed cat that always seems to hover in their shadow that his dear leader is just too 'kind-hearted' to kick out or kill.

Even without the loyalty necklace, he was always a little...this. The will is there, but there is a laspe in understanding he does not realize he has. Something something The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions.

So he thinks he has his friend's best interests at heart. He knows the Lamb as his friend. He does not know Lambert.

#trod au #tyren oc

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alessandra-14 · 5 months ago

Text

Quiet sister, concerned brothers

Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Summery: Dean and Sam Winchester have a 15 year old half sister who often feels neglected and overlooked by her brothers. Her sadness and loneliness build up until she can no longer hide her feelings.

Trigger warning: way to much use of Y/N, emotional neglect

Word count: 1.5k words

A/N: I used a different perspective this time. Please please let me know which one you prefer so I know what to continue with! Thanks.

The creaky old bunker was silent, a rare occurrence given the nature of it's inhabitants. Y/N sat on her bed, the flickering light from a nearby lamp casting long shadows on the walls. She hugged her knees tight to her chest, feeling the weight of another day spend in the background.

Sam and Dean, her older brothers, had been on a hunt all day. She texted them but unsurprisingly received no answer from any of them. They returned the next day around noon with stories about demons and near-death experiences, hardly acknowledging her presence as they recounted their tiring adventures.

Y/N was used to this. As long as she can remember, she had been the quiet, shy girl who stayed in the shadows while her brothers were always the center of attention.

She loved them dearly, of course she did. They have raised her, they gave her a family. Something she never new before them. But the constant feeling of being forgotten gnawed at her heart. She knew they didn't mean to emotionally neglect her, it was just how things were. Sam and Dean are hunters and she is just…. there

….

A week later they were on the road again, driving to a small town in Nebraska where strange disappearances had been reported. Y/N joined them this time. She felt as if she is going to suffocate if she stayed in that bunker for any longer.

She sat in the back of the Impala with her head resting against the cold window. The low rumble of the engine was almost comforting, a familiar sound in her otherwise tumultuous life.

Dean glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, a frown creasing his forehead. "You okay back there kid?"

Y/N forced a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Sam turned around in his seat, giving her a concerned look. "You sure? You've been pretty quiet lately. More than usual. You barely talk to us." "Yeah I'm fine, just tired", she lied, hoping they would drop the subject. She didn't want to burden them with her feelings. They had enough to worry about.

Dean just shrugged and turned up the music, and Sam went back to his research. Both of them just believing her lie for now. None of them had the energy to deal with it at the moment.

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to push away the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.

The hunt went relatively well. Sure it could have gone way better but it's not the worst one they've had so far. Turns out the disappearances were caused by a little groupe of vampires. Fortunately for them it was easy to track them down to an abandoned warehouse. The killing part was a bit more tricky though.

Y/N helped out a lot this time. She was quite proud of herself for that. Thought that Sam and Dean would be impressed but did they even acknowledge her hard work? absolutely not.

"You did good kid but you could definitely improve your skills with the machete and you also need to work more on your stamina you are way to slow." Those are the first words she hear from Dean as they walk back to the car. Of course it hurts. She tried so hard to make them acknowledge her skills but apparently all they see is her weakness or simply nothing at all.

Sam doesn't confirm Dean's criticism but he also doesn't defend his sister in any way. The walk back to the car is just silent and tense. A feeling Y/N is simply sick of.

It doesn't get any better in the car so all she does is put her headphones in to listen to music to drown her loud bad thoughts and her brother's voices.

....

The next time they went on a hunt didn't go differently. Y/N was allowed to join again. She even tried to show of her great skills against the witch they had to fight but once again it went mostly unnoticed by the two brothers. The only thing that stuck with them was how slow she moved and how much she apparently hesitated when shooting the witch.

She kept quiet for the whole ride back to the bunker. What was she supposed to say anyway.

Back at the bunker Dean is the first one to break the silence between the siblings. "Hey kiddo remind me to teach you how to use a gun properly. You suck a little at that" He said as he went to grab a beer. His words were meant in a playful way but for Y/N it's enough to set her off completely.

"Can't you just stop with that?!" Sam and Dean both turn to look at her with a confused frown. "Stop with what?" Dean asks bewildered.

"With t-this! I just can't listen to you constantly telling me that I am not good enough. Every time I do something good you find something bad to say. Both of you just completely ignored the fact that I killed the witch on the hunt today all that was important to you was to tell me I suck at shooting! And when you don't criticize everything I do, you just don't talk to me. I simply get ignored. That's not fair!"

Y/N stopped once she ran out of breath but she was not anywhere near done letting everything out

"Y/N what-" Sam immediately gets interrupted by his sister. "No! I'm done. I'm done with hunting. I am done doing anything in my power to make you acknowledge my hard work for nothing and I am done with seeking your validation and attention at all times!"

None of the brothers get a chance to say anything because the second the girl is done she storms off to her room. Not that they knew what to say anyway.

The silence that follows is a tense one. Both brothers are at loss for words. Her speech was something none of them expected to hear. "Should we go check up on her? That was pretty intense"

But Sam shakes his head at Dean's suggestion. "No, we should let her cool off for a bit. I'll check up on her later"

....

Dean can't help but think about every interaction he had with his sister after every hunt and he unfortunately has to admit to himself that what Y/N said was true. The guilt is more than visible on his face it seems as if he is drowning in it. Sam isn't feeling any better. He is trying his best to no stand up and rush into his sisters bedroom and apologize for everything he and his brother said to her to make her feel as if she was not good enough.

He is holding that urge back fairly well but the moment he heard loud crying from her room he decides he is done with waiting and giving her space. He just needs to see if she is alright and fix this.

He walks up towards the door of your bedroom and softly knocks on it. "Hey...do you mind if we talk for a moment? I just want to make sure you're okay" Sam waits for a couple seconds which feels like minutes to him. But he receives no answer from the girl on the other side of the door. So he tries again but yet he gets no answer this time either.

Sam knows her silence is answer enough and turns around to leave. Not even two steps later he hears the door opening and his little sister's sad sniffles. He turns towards her and the mere sight of his sibling standing there with red rimmed eyes and a tired expression, was enough to break his heart into many pieces. Especially because he knows he is at fault.

"We can talk if you want" Her voice sounds raspy and her words come out quiet. A big indicator that she has been crying for a long time.

Sam simply nods and follows her into her room. Both sit down on the bed. Y/N looks towards her hands and keeps her gaze fixated on that.

"I wanted to apologize for making you feel as if you are not good enough. That was really not alright. You are great kid. You help us out so much. Doesn't matter if it's with research, or hunting or just helping around the bunker. Dean and I appreciate it. We appreciate you"

Y/N scoffs which slightly takes her older brother by surprise. "Well none of you know how to show that said appreciation"

Sam sighs since he knows she is right. "I know we don't but I really mean it when I say that we do care and do acknowledge your help and hard work. Even when we tell you about the thing you could improve. I also know how harsh Dean's words must have sounded to you and he feels bad. He really does."

The teenaged girl stays silent for a moment before finally nodding. "I forgive you. But I still want to take a little break from hunting. I'll help with research, sure but that's all. It's just too much right now" Sam agrees with you. "Sure that's fine. I understand, kid. And so will Dean"

Y/N looks up from her fidgeting fingers and turns her head towards her brother while wiping her tears. "Thank you Sam"

"Don't thank me, sweetheart. Please" Another silence follows after Sam's words. Yet this time it's not tense or heavy. It's comforting.

#dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #supernatural #the winchester brothers #hurt/comfort #slight angst #x sister!reader #female reader

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artistsfuneral · 20 days ago

Text

[A recording of a privat Emergency Hotline]

"Kaer Morhen Monster Processing, Vesemir speaking."

"My name is Lambert Hendriks. I need someone to kill monsters for me."

"Listen, kid, this is not a joke number. I'm not responsible for whatever laundry heap is casting shadows in your room. Where are your parents?"

"I'm not stupid. There's actual monsters in our house."

"Boy, this-"

"My father killed my Momma three days ago. He ran away after that and left the door open. She's starting to smell and it made monsters come inside. My father has a rifle but I'm locked into my room and my last lock pick broke, so I can't get it by myself."

[a pause, the sound of shuffling]

"Where do you live, kid?"

"He took us to a cabin in the woods. Near the Griffin Reservoir. I remember a road sign with a really big dick graffiti on it. We drove into the woods right after we passed it."

"Alright kid, that's good, I'm fairly close by. Think you can hold out a couple of hours?"

"I guess so. They're clawing at the door, but I pushed my drawers in front of it. I don't have any money, but-"

"Don't worry about that, kid."

"But it's important! Witchers get paid for killing monsters. I don't have money, but my father stole something before he got into the fight with Momma, so you can have that. Law of surprise, right? Whatever you see first, you can have it."

"Okay. Alright. We'll do that. I'll be there soon."

[End of the Recording]

(not seen in this, Vesemir having to enter the house through a window and the first thing he sees is Lambert, locked up in a tiny room, chained to his bed, with a kitchen knife in hand)

#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #witcher #lambert #vesemir #witcher lambert #witcher vesemir #modern au #tw character death #tw child abuse #cw child abuse

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jakeypaws · 10 days ago

Text

in plain sight 🫀

murderer heeseung x journalist fem!reader

content: yandere behavior, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, smut later on

chapter 1

the air was thick with the acrid scent of blood, a stark contrast to the evening’s chill as police lights flickered against the shadows of the small town. the crowd had gathered like vultures, murmuring among themselves, their eyes wide with fear and curiosity. in the center of it all, a body lay sprawled in the alley, barely covered by a thin sheet, a stark reminder of the violence that had gripped this quiet town. y/n pushed through the mass of onlookers, notebook in hand, her instincts as a journalist kicking in. this was her job—find the truth, even if it meant uncovering the darkest corners of human nature. as she scanned the crowd, her eyes landed on him—a man standing just on the edge of the gathering, his expression unreadable, eyes glinting in the dim light. he blended in perfectly, like any other face in the crowd, yet something about him made her hesitate. he was smiling to himself, just enough for her to notice.

i took a step closer, my gaze lingering on the man longer than i intended. he didn’t seem to notice, his attention fixed on the scene before us. i shook it off and moved toward the group of bystanders nearest to the alley, but as i stepped forward, i realized he was now standing right behind me. “excuse me,” i asked, turning toward him. “did you see anything unusual tonight?” i hesitated, then added, “what’s your name?” he smiled—a slow, deliberate smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “heeseung,” he replied, his voice soft, almost too calm for the circumstances. “but i think you’re looking in the wrong place.” his gaze flickered from the body back to me, as if he knew exactly what i was thinking. a chill ran down my spine, but i forced myself to stay professional. he was just another face in the crowd, after all.

i couldn’t shake the feeling that something about him wasn’t right. there was a coolness in his eyes that didn’t match the situation. everyone else was tense, their voices sharp with fear or shock, but not him. he looked almost... amused. i forced myself to focus, nodding as i scribbled down a few notes, trying to brush off the unease his presence stirred in me. but as i turned back to the crime scene, i noticed he was still watching me, not making any effort to hide it. it felt as if he was waiting for me to figure something out, some hidden message he was offering without saying a word. i swallowed hard and glanced away, hoping i hadn’t imagined the intensity of his stare. but when i glanced back a moment later, he was gone—slipping back into the crowd as quietly as he had appeared.

i was about to leave the scene, my mind already racing through the details i’d gathered, when something caught my eye—a small, folded piece of paper near the edge of the crime scene tape. it was tucked just beneath a trash can, almost hidden from view. my heart skipped a beat as i reached for it, careful not to disturb anything else. as i unfolded it, i noticed it wasn’t an ordinary piece of paper; it was a torn scrap from one of my own articles. the edges were frayed, but there, scrawled in dark ink across the page, was a single line: “some things are closer than you think.” my breath caught in my throat. the handwriting was unfamiliar, but the message? it sent a cold shiver down my spine. heeseung. had he done this? i looked around the scene one last time, but he was nowhere to be found.

i couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me as i walked home, the streets eerily quiet beneath the dim glow of the streetlights. the paper in my pocket felt heavier with every step, like a secret i wasn’t ready to confront. i tried to focus on the facts, telling myself it was just paranoia, but every time i glanced over my shoulder, i saw nothing but the empty road. it wasn’t until i turned the corner near my apartment building that i caught a glimpse of him—heeseung. he was standing in the shadows, barely visible, but i knew it was him. my heart thudded in my chest as i quickened my pace, trying to convince myself i was imagining it. but when i reached my door and turned the key, i caught the faintest glimpse of him moving in the distance, just out of reach, as if he was waiting for me to notice.

inside, i slammed the door behind me and locked it, my hands trembling as i pulled out the torn article. i stared at the cryptic message, my mind racing. was he trying to get my attention? or was this just some twisted game? i quickly fired up my laptop, searching for anything that could connect heeseung to the murders—or to me. but all i found were news stories, police reports, and unsettling gaps in the timeline. my fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure where to start. the more i searched, the more questions piled up. and somewhere in the back of my mind, a single, chilling thought lingered: what if i was already part of the story?

i sat back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. maybe i was being paranoid. it could’ve been anyone following me—someone else just out for a late walk, or maybe a neighbor on their way home. i was starting to overthink things. the city was quiet at night, and it had been a long day. i let out a shaky breath and stood up to stretch, pushing the creeping unease to the back of my mind. but as i glanced at the torn scrap of paper again, my stomach churned. i had to stay focused. heeseung was just a name in a sea of suspects, nothing more. i closed my laptop and tried to shake off the lingering feeling of his gaze, but it clung to me like a shadow. i wasn’t going to let this get to me.

i made myself some tea, trying to clear my mind, and sat by the window, watching the streets below. the familiar sights of the town, the calm of the empty streets, should’ve been comforting. but all i could think about was the smile he’d given me earlier, the way it seemed like he knew something i didn’t. i tried to focus on the sound of my tea kettle, anything to distract myself. but every time i closed my eyes, all i saw was his face.

chapter 2

the shrill sound of sirens cut through the quiet morning, signaling the discovery of another body. the scene was eerily similar to the one from the previous week—another alley, another lifeless victim. the small town, once so peaceful, was becoming a graveyard of secrets. as i stood at the edge of the crowd, my notebook clutched tightly in my hands, i felt a familiar weight pressing against my chest. this wasn’t just another story. it couldn’t be. there was something darker at play, something i still couldn’t fully understand. the police were already cordoning off the area, their faces grim as they went over the details, but i knew they didn’t have any more answers than they did the last time. the same questions loomed—why these victims? why now? i stepped forward, taking a deep breath, and moved through the gathering crowd. there was something i had to find—something that would connect these killings and, maybe, bring me closer to the one person who seemed to know more than he should: heeseung.

as i pushed through the crowd, i couldn’t shake the feeling that i was being watched again. the sense of unease from last night crept back, and my eyes darted around the gathered onlookers, trying to pinpoint the source. and there he was—standing just at the edge of the crime scene, casually leaning against the brick wall like he belonged there. heeseung. my stomach twisted. it wasn’t the first time i’d seen him at a murder scene, but this time felt different. he was watching me with that same unsettling, almost amused smile from before, as though he were aware of every thought running through my mind. the same quiet confidence. the same eerie calm in the midst of chaos. it was almost as if he wanted me to notice him. i fought the urge to approach him, but something about the way he looked at me, like he was daring me to speak to him, made me take a hesitant step forward.

i took a deep breath, walking toward heeseung, my heart racing. he stood a good few inches taller than most, his 5'11" frame towering over me as i approached. i tried to steady myself, but i couldn't shake the feeling of being small next to him. “another victim,” i said, keeping my voice neutral. “any thoughts on this one?” heeseung tilted his head, his smile curling at the corners of his lips. “another one, yes,” he replied, his tone playful. “but i think you're looking in the wrong place. maybe you're asking the wrong questions.” a chill ran down my spine. his words hit too close to home, as if he knew what i was missing. before i could respond, he turned away, his tall figure slipping back into the crowd, leaving me with nothing but more questions.

as i watched heeseung disappear into the crowd, something caught my eye. it was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a scrap of paper tucked into the corner of the police barrier, just a few feet from where heeseung had been standing. my pulse quickened as i walked over and carefully picked it up. it was another torn piece of my own article, the edges jagged and worn. i unfolded it, my breath catching as i read the words scrawled in the same dark ink: “you’re getting closer, but not close enough.” my hands trembled as i held it, the eerie familiarity of the message making my stomach churn. heeseung had left this. there was no doubt. i glanced around, but the crowd had already thickened, and he was nowhere to be seen. the unsettling feeling that he was always one step ahead of me grew stronger.

i couldn’t shake the feeling that heeseung was always one step ahead of me. when i got home, i immediately locked the door behind me and sat down at my desk, eager to dig deeper. i typed his name into my search engine, but all i found was a void—no criminal record, no arrest history, no ties to anything remotely sinister. heeseung was a nobody, just another face in the crowd. but i couldn’t let go of the feeling that there was something more to him. i kept searching, running his name through different forums and news sites, until one particular result caught my eye. it was a mention on a dark web message board, buried deep within a thread i would’ve never found without looking carefully. my heart skipped a beat as i clicked the link, a sense of dread creeping up my spine. it was the only lead i had—if i could dig deeper into this obscure corner of the web, maybe i’d finally find something that connected him to the murders.

my hands trembled as i navigated deeper into the dark web, scrolling through countless threads that made my skin crawl. then, i found it—an account with the username 'wolf_of_hearts.' the profile was minimal, no bio, just a collection of images that made my stomach turn. each photo showed the same chilling thing: the hearts of the recent victims, sealed in glass jars, perfectly preserved. my breath caught in my throat as a cold realization hit me. the victims... all of them had missing hearts. i had seen the bodies up close, but i had been so focused on the wounds that i hadn’t put the pieces together. the missing hearts were a signature, a gruesome pattern that tied everything together. and now, someone—he—was showing them off like trophies. my mind raced, the weight of the discovery sinking in. i needed to find out who was behind this account before it was too late.

just as i was about to close the page, a new notification popped up—direct message. my heart hammered in my chest as i clicked it open, the words on the screen sending a chill down my spine: “i know you’re watching me :)” the smiley face at the end made my stomach twist in a way i couldn’t quite explain. how could they know? how could he know? my mind raced, trying to process it. the account had been silent until now, but this—this felt like a warning. a taunt. the way the words were written felt so personal, like the sender was watching me in real time. the weight of the message settled in, and i realized with a sickening twist that i wasn’t just investigating the murders anymore. i was being watched. and he was letting me know he was always one step ahead.

chapter 3

the morning air felt heavier than usual, thick with the weight of something looming just out of sight. i had barely managed to get a few hours of sleep when the call came. another victim. another life taken. the police had found the body in a nearby alley, and the scene was already swarming with officers and bystanders. i couldn’t ignore the sickening sense of déjà vu as i pushed my way through the crowd, the usual mix of shock and curiosity hanging in the air like a dense fog. another soul claimed by the killer. another thread in the web that was tightening around this town, pulling us all closer to something dark and inescapable.

as i surveyed the scene, my eyes inevitably landed on him. heeseung. standing at the edge of the crowd, his gaze focused on me, as always. but this time, something was different. instead of me walking up to him like before, he moved toward me—quietly, effortlessly blending into the chaos. i barely had time to react before he was beside me, close enough for only me to notice. his fingers brushed against my coat pocket, slipping something inside before he stepped back, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips. i froze, my breath catching in my throat as he casually walked away, disappearing into the crowd. my hand instinctively reached for the note, the paper feeling cold and heavy against my fingers. what was he playing at now?

i couldn’t bring myself to unfold the note right away, my fingers trembling as i slipped it from my pocket. but when i finally opened it, the words were simple, written in that same dark ink: "there’s a surprise waiting for you at home." my heart skipped a beat. the message was chillingly casual, like a game to him—like he already knew what i was thinking, what i would do next. it was a warning, or maybe a dare. the unsettling thought gnawed at me as i stared at the note, the weight of his words sinking in. he wasn’t just taunting me anymore. he was leading me somewhere, and i had no choice but to follow.

when i got home, my heart was still racing from the encounter with heeseung. but as soon as i walked through the door, another notification popped up on my laptop—another dm from 'wolf_of_hearts.' i hesitated for a moment before opening it, and when i did, the words hit me like a punch to the gut. the message contained everything—my personal information. my address. my phone number. details i had never shared with anyone. and then, at the end of the message, the chilling warning: “if you don’t follow my orders, you’re next on my list.” i stared at the screen, my hands shaking. how had he gotten all of this? how much did he really know about me? my mind raced, the reality of the situation sinking in. he wasn’t just watching me. he was in control now. and if i didn’t do exactly what he wanted, i would become the next victim.

“what do you want from me?” i typed, my fingers trembling as i hit send. the question hung in the air, but i knew it was futile—asking him for answers would only fuel his twisted game. my laptop pinged almost immediately, and i braced myself for whatever came next. the response was short, almost mocking: “you’ll find out soon enough. just do as i say, and you’ll stay safe.” safe. the word made my blood run cold. i wasn’t safe. not with him knowing everything about me, not with him having control over every step i took. a dark realization settled in: there was no way out. heeseung—or whoever this was—had already won. the only choice i had now was whether to play along or risk becoming the next piece in his twisted puzzle.

another message appeared on the screen, and my heart pounded as i read it. “for now, i won’t do anything. but i’ll be keeping a close eye on you.” the words seemed to seep into my mind, winding around every thought, every instinct i had to break free from his grip. there was a sick satisfaction in his tone, a promise of control that he intended to keep. it was as if he wanted me to feel his presence even when he wasn’t there, lurking in every shadow, watching my every move.

i closed my laptop, shutting out the disturbing messages, and headed to the bathroom. the hot water poured over me, washing away the tension that had settled into every part of my body. i tried to push heeseung’s words from my mind, hoping the warmth would melt away the unease, if only for a moment. after drying off, i changed into something comfortable and was finally ready to crawl into bed when a sudden notification lit up my phone screen. my heart skipped a beat, dread prickling along my spine as i reached for it, half-expecting to see another message from him.

my breath caught as i opened the message, and my stomach twisted with dread. heeseung had texted me. i shouldn’t have been surprised—he had access to everything about me, after all—but seeing his name on my screen sent a new wave of fear through me. i tapped the message, and my heart stopped. attached were photos of me in my apartment, taken from just outside my window. one showed me at my desk, another catching me as i moved around the room. the realization hit hard: he wasn’t just watching. he was here, close enough to reach me whenever he wanted.

i bolted to the window, heart racing, and pulled back the curtain. there, standing on the street below, was heeseung. he looked up, meeting my gaze with that same unnerving smile, his hand raised in a slow, deliberate wave. the streetlight cast a shadow over his face, but his eyes glinted, catching the faint glow. he knew exactly what he was doing, savoring the effect he had on me. i stepped back, my pulse pounding in my ears. he was toying with me, and no matter how much distance i put between us, it was clear he would always be closer than i ever wanted.

a part of me couldn’t deny it—this twisted game of cat and mouse had a strange thrill to it. it was wrong, so deeply wrong, to feel anything other than fear. yet, there was something about heeseung, something darkly alluring in his careful words, his cryptic messages, the way he knew exactly how to keep me on edge. i hated that i felt this way. i should be running, finding a way to get him out of my life for good. but every time he appeared, every time he left another clue, i found myself drawn in, the danger only making his pull stronger.

chapter 4 (heeseung’s p.o.v.)

i watched her from a distance, hidden in the shadows, savoring every flicker of fear, every hint of curiosity that crossed her face. she didn’t know it yet, but she was playing her role perfectly—drawn in, inch by inch, exactly as i wanted. the thrill of watching her unravel, of seeing her look over her shoulder, searching for me, was intoxicating. she didn’t understand that this was more than a game to me. i’d waited so long, watched her every move, learned every detail. and now, seeing her wrestle with herself, knowing she couldn’t pull away—that was the real victory.

satisfied, i turned away from her window, a smirk lingering on my lips as i slipped back into the shadows. the night was quiet, and i welcomed the chill as i flagged down a cab at the end of her street. the driver barely glanced my way as i gave directions, my mind already on the place i called my own—a cabin tucked far away in the woods, beyond the reach of prying eyes. it was a place where silence reigned, where every plan i’d carefully crafted could unfold without interruption.

as the taxi driver neared the house, i could feel the familiar sense of control settling in. without a word, i reached into my jacket and pulled out a thin wire, slipping it around the back of the seat. in one swift motion, i yanked it tight, pressing it against the driver’s throat. his gasps for air were brief, weak, and soon enough, his body went limp, slumping forward as he lost consciousness. i eased the wire away, watching as the man fell into a heap against the wheel. there was no need for him anymore. i stepped out of the cab, leaving the driver unconscious and the night still wrapped in its heavy silence. it would be some time before anyone even noticed he was missing.

i dragged the driver’s body out of the cab and into the shadows, my boots crunching on the gravel beneath me. the shed stood just behind the cabin, isolated and hidden from sight, the perfect place for what i needed to do. with practiced ease, i hoisted the unconscious man’s limp form over my shoulder and carried him inside. the dim light from the hanging bulb barely illuminated the tools i’d arranged earlier, each one sharp and waiting. my hands moved with precision, preparing for the familiar ritual. the driver wouldn’t be missed, not out here, not when his heart would soon join the others—each piece of the collection a testament to my affection, my obsession, and my devotion.

i paused for a moment, feeling a hint of laziness creeping in. the body could wait—there was no rush. instead, i decided to clean up. i washed my hands, wiping away the remnants of the night’s work, the routine that had become almost second nature to me. once i was done, i walked through the small cabin and into my room, a room i’d carefully curated. the walls were lined with photographs of her, the ones i’d taken from the shadows, when she hadn’t known i was watching. articles she’d written were scattered across the room, pinned up with a kind of reverence. each page was a piece of her—her words, her thoughts, her passions. it was an obsession, yes, but one that felt strangely comforting, as if i were the only one who truly understood her.

i lay back on the bed, a sense of satisfaction washing over me as i pulled out my phone. with a few taps, i uploaded the photo of the driver’s heart to my dark web account, the image serving as another grisly trophy for those who followed my work. as the post went live, afterwards, i switched to another album on my phone, one filled with pictures of her—i scrolled through each photo slowly, savoring the way her face looked when she was unaware, captured in moments where she was simply being herself. there were shots from a distance, others from close-up, each one a reminder of my proximity to her. these weren’t just images—they were my connection to her, the proof that i was always watching, always waiting for the next step in our game.

as i scrolled through the pictures, each one pulling me deeper into a dark yearning, my mind became consumed by thoughts of her. the more i saw her—her expressions, her every move—the stronger the desire grew. i couldn’t fight it anymore, not when the connection i felt with her seemed so undeniable, so real in my mind. every photo, every moment captured, felt like she was right there with me, even if she didn’t know it yet. i closed my eyes, my breath coming in shallow bursts, unable to control the pull that was getting harder to resist.

i couldn’t control myself, giving in the pleasure that aroused in me. i slowly unzipped my pants and lowered by boxers, setting my member free. slowly, but steadily, i started to stroke myself while looking at the photos of her. i couldn’t get enough, i wanted to be inside of her, but i knew i had to be patient, patient enough to let her fall in my trap. i was grunting at the thought, coming all over my shirt in the process. i got up, changed my shirt, and slept, waiting for tomorrow’s arrival.

the morning light broke through the blinds, but i had already woken, eager for what the day would bring. after a quick breakfast, i headed out to the shed, where the taxi driver’s body lay. dragging him into the back of my car, i made sure no one was watching as i drove him into town. the place i’d chosen was perfect—an alleyway just on the outskirts of the busy district, where it wouldn’t take long for the cops to find him. i placed the body carefully, making sure it was positioned in a way that would lead them straight to me. as i stepped back, i smiled, knowing the chaos and fear that would follow. the game was far from over.

chapter 5

another body was discovered that morning, the familiar grim details making their rounds through the news outlets. the police quickly released a statement, urging the public to avoid walking alone at night, the warning hanging heavy in the air. as the crowd gathered around the crime scene, i couldn’t help but notice him again—heeseung, blending in like a shadow, watching from a distance. my heart raced. i couldn’t go near the police, couldn’t risk speaking to them. the thought of what he might do if i drew attention to myself made my skin crawl. i could feel his eyes on me, a silent threat in the air, and i knew—without a doubt—that he was always watching.

as the crowd slowly dispersed, i stood there, my mind racing, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. that’s when i felt him—heeseung—his presence creeping up behind me like a whisper in the wind. he leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear, and i froze. "you're a good girl," he murmured, the words sending a chill down my spine. "you didn’t tell the cops about me." his voice was smooth, almost affectionate, as if he were praising a child for following instructions. i clenched my fists at my sides, but i couldn’t bring myself to move. his words were a reminder of just how much power he had over me.

a blush crept up my neck at the pet name, my face burning with embarrassment. i didn’t know why it affected me so much, but heeseung noticed immediately. he chuckled softly, a dark glint in his eyes, enjoying the reaction he’d caused. just as i tried to regain my composure, a cop approached us, eyeing heeseung with a knowing look. “you should be with your girl all the time, alright?” the officer said gruffly, giving heeseung a pointed look. “don’t want another mess to deal with.” as the cop turned to walk away, i opened my mouth to protest, but my voice caught in my throat. “i’m not his—” i began, but it was too late. the cop was already walking off, leaving me speechless, the tension between heeseung and me thickening with each passing second.

heeseung’s lips curled into a teasing smile as he watched my reaction. “you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his voice low and mocking. i tried to ignore him, but his presence made it impossible. he sobered quickly, his expression turning serious as he leaned in closer. “don’t think i’ve lost sight of you,” he said quietly, his eyes locking with mine, the intensity of his gaze making my heart race. then, as if flipping a switch, his smile returned, but there was something dark behind it. “how about we meet at that little restaurant downtown?” he suggested, his tone still playful but carrying an edge. “i think we should have a proper ‘date.’” the way he said it, with such casual assurance, made it feel less like an invitation and more like a demand.

i quickly nodded, not wanting to provoke him further, afraid of what might happen if i refused. later that evening, i received a message from heeseung—just the address of the restaurant, crossroads café. my heart skipped a beat, a mix of anticipation and dread swirling inside me. i couldn’t help but wonder what kind of game he was playing, but there was no backing out now. i decided to dress up, wanting to look nice for once. it had been a while since i’d done anything like this, since i’d last headed somewhere that required a little effort. standing in front of the mirror, i adjusted my outfit, my nerves rising as i thought about the night ahead. what was heeseung planning? and more importantly, what was i walking into?

as i walked into the restaurant, my eyes immediately found him—heeseung, sitting at a table near the window, looking dashing in a sleek suit that made him seem even more dangerous. his dark gaze met mine, a smile spreading across his lips, but there was something unsettling behind it, a quiet intensity i couldn’t quite place. as i approached, he stood up and pulled out my chair for me, the smoothness of his actions almost making me forget how unsettling everything about him was. “you look beautiful,” he said, his voice laced with genuine admiration, though i could tell it was more than that. the compliment caught me off guard, making my face flush with an unfamiliar warmth. it was the kind of thing i wasn’t used to hearing, and it left me feeling flustered, a knot of confusion twisting in my stomach.

heeseung seemed to enjoy my reaction, his smile widening as he settled into his seat across from me. “nervous?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. i tried to shake my head, forcing myself to keep calm, but he saw right through me. “don’t worry,” he continued smoothly, his tone both comforting and unnerving. “i don’t bite… unless you want me to.” his gaze lingered on me, and i felt a shiver run down my spine. despite every instinct telling me to leave, i found myself rooted to the spot, held by the magnetism he exuded, even when i knew it was dangerous.

heeseung’s eyes never left mine as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his voice soft but pointed. “you know, i’ve been watching you for a long time,” he admitted, his words sending a chill through me. “following your work, keeping an eye on your every move.” his fingers traced the edge of his glass absentmindedly, his gaze dark and unwavering. “it’s fascinating, really,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “how close we’ve gotten without you even knowing.” i swallowed, my heart pounding as his words settled in. the casual way he spoke of his obsession was both terrifying and strangely captivating, drawing me deeper into a web i knew i should escape but couldn’t.

i swallowed hard, my voice barely steady as i forced out the words. “what do you mean...?” my question hung in the air, and heeseung’s smile only widened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. he leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “exactly what it sounds like,” he replied smoothly, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “i know things about you most people don’t. i know your routines, your favorite places, the things that make you smile... and the things that make you afraid.” he paused, watching my reaction, a hint of satisfaction in his expression as he took in the shock i couldn’t fully hide.

my eyes widened in shock as heeseung casually pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a swipe and opening a hidden photo album. my breath hitched when i saw the images—dozens of pictures of me, taken from a distance, capturing moments i thought were private. me at the coffee shop, me on my walk home, even me through my apartment window. heeseung glanced up, his expression a mix of admiration and something far darker. “i’ve been in love with you for months,” he confessed, his voice soft but unwavering. “your articles... every word you write. i feel like i know you, like you were meant to be mine.” his eyes searched mine for a reaction, but all i felt was a cold, sinking feeling as i processed the depth of his obsession.

chapter 6

“i… i need to go,” i mumbled, pushing myself up from the table, heart racing as i turned toward the exit. my steps were hurried, but before i could reach the door, i felt a sudden pressure against my back—a pocket knife, pressed just below my ribs. i froze, my breath hitching. heeseung’s voice was low, dripping with calm control. “you’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, his words chillingly close to my ear. the restaurant, once bustling and loud, faded around me as i realized there was no escaping him—not now.

heeseung’s grip on my arm was firm as he walked me toward his car, his expression unreadable in the dim light outside the restaurant. i wanted to scream, to push him away, but fear held me captive. as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, he glanced over, a smirk playing on his lips. “you should’ve listened to me,” he said, his tone almost mocking, as if this was all a game i’d already lost. the silence stretched between us as he drove, the city lights fading behind us, replaced by the dark, twisting roads leading toward his cabin in the woods.

heeseung’s grip never loosened as he led me up the creaking steps of the cabin, the wood groaning beneath our feet in the dead silence of the night. once inside, he turned to me, his eyes glinting with a twisted excitement. “how about i give you a little house tour?” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction. “now that you’ll be staying with me… forever.” the final word hung ominously in the air, each syllable sinking in like a heavy weight. i swallowed hard, glancing around the dimly lit cabin, wondering what horrors lay hidden within these walls.

heeseung’s grip remained firm as he guided me deeper into the cabin, each step echoing through the hollow structure. the air smelled faintly of cedarwood, though it did little to mask the metallic tang that lingered just beneath it. “this is the living room,” he began casually, as if we were ordinary strangers exchanging pleasantries. a small, battered couch sat against the wall, its cushions stained and torn. on the coffee table lay an assortment of knives—some polished to a gleaming shine, others crusted with dried, rust-colored streaks. “i like to keep my tools close,” he said with a smirk, noticing the way my eyes lingered on them.

he led me further down a narrow hallway, the dim lighting casting long, distorted shadows on the peeling walls. “and here,” he said, stopping in front of a door, “is where the magic happens.” he pushed it open with a flourish, revealing what could only be described as a shrine to his obsessions. photographs covered the walls—some of his victims, their faces frozen in fear, and others… of me. I felt my stomach twist as I recognized a photo I’d taken weeks ago, sitting at my desk, completely unaware.

“this is my favorite room,” heeseung whispered, stepping closer to me. “every detail, every moment, carefully preserved. just like i’ll preserve you, y/n. you’re different… special.” his voice was soft, but his words carried a chilling promise that left my hands trembling. as my eyes darted over the photographs, i realized something far more disturbing. the people staring back from the walls weren’t random faces—they were people who had crossed paths with me, people who had messed with me in some way. each one had a story, a connection to my life, and now they were gone, their final moments immortalized by heeseung’s twisted obsession.

heeseung’s grin widened as he noticed my hesitation, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. without a word, he led me out the back door and down a narrow, overgrown path to a weathered shed at the edge of the yard. the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something more pungent, a sharpness that stung my nostrils. "this is where the real work happens," he murmured, unlocking the door with a casual twist of his wrist. the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior, the walls lined with shelves of preserved jars, each one containing a grotesque, macabre prize—hearts, blood-stained and floating in a thick, viscous liquid.

heeseung stepped inside, gesturing to the jars like a proud collector. "each heart tells a story," he said, his voice eerily calm. "these ones... well, they didn’t appreciate your worth, y/n. so i made sure to keep a little piece of them for you." my gaze flicked to the closest jar, where a heart floated, barely recognizable, but the color of the blood still sent a shiver down my spine. heeseung didn’t notice my panic, his attention elsewhere as he studied the rows of jars. "i like to think of it as... a keepsake. something to remember them by."

“no!” i screamed, twisting free from his grasp with a surge of adrenaline. i bolted for the door, desperation fueling each step. but heeseung was faster, stronger; within seconds, he’d caught up, his arms wrapping around me with an iron grip. he tackled me to the ground, pressing me down as my breath came in panicked gasps. before i could struggle, he had my wrists pinned above my head, his face hovering inches from mine, his expression filled with a disturbing mix of amusement and possession.

heeseung’s grip tightened around my wrists, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, “you’ve seen enough for tonight...” his voice dropped lower, a dark edge creeping into his words. “i’ll teach you a lesson.” my heart pounded in my chest, the terror rising as his meaning became clear. i struggled beneath him, but his weight held me down effortlessly, and all i could do was stare up at him, my mind racing, desperately trying to find a way out. heeseung’s eyes gleamed with something far more sinister, and i knew—there was no escape from him now.

“please,” i gasped, my voice shaky with fear. “let me go. i won’t tell anyone, i swear.” my words tumbled out in a frantic plea, desperate to make him see reason, to somehow convince him that i wasn’t a threat to his twisted world. “i’ll keep quiet, i’ll stay out of your way—just let me go.” my eyes searched his face for any sign of compassion, but all i saw was cold determination. heeseung’s smile only widened, a cruel satisfaction lighting up his features as he leaned in closer. “oh, you’ll learn,” he whispered. “you’ll learn exactly what happens when you don’t listen.”

without warning, heeseung hauled me to my feet, dragging me into the dimly lit cabin and toward a narrow staircase leading down into the basement. i struggled, my breath ragged, but he was too strong, too determined. once we reached the bottom, he shoved me onto the cold concrete floor. my heart raced as i looked around the dimly lit space, the walls lined with chains and shadows. heeseung’s twisted grin never left his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a shock collar, its cold metal gleaming in the low light. “this is where you’ll learn,” he murmured, slipping the collar around my neck and tightening it with a sickening click. he pulled out a small remote, its buttons small and ominous. “you’re mine now,” he said softly, pressing a button. the electric shock that shot through me was immediate, making my body tense in agony as i gasped for air.

“please, stop!” i gasped, the pain still coursing through my body as i writhed on the cold floor. tears blurred my vision, and my chest heaved with each breath. “i’ll do anything, just please…” my voice trembled with desperation, the weight of my helplessness sinking in. “please, just don’t do that again. i’ll do whatever you want, i’ll—” the words barely left my lips before heeseung’s cold, calculating gaze locked onto mine, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. it was as if my pleas meant nothing to him, just another part of his game. “anything, huh?” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curling into a slow, mocking smile. “we’ll see about that.”

heeseung leaned down, his breath warm against my ear as he spoke in a low, menacing tone. “since you’ll do anything, i’ve shown you how much i love you... now it’s time for you to return the favor.” his words sent a shiver down my spine, every ounce of fear and confusion i felt flooding me once again. heeseung’s hand moved to the remote, and i could see the twisted excitement in his eyes. “you’ve had your chance to beg, but now, it’s my turn.” the collar around my neck felt heavier with every passing second, my pulse pounding in my ears as i realized that there was no escaping this nightmare. my body froze, unsure of what he truly meant by that, but i knew one thing for certain—whatever he wanted, it was far worse than anything i could imagine.

chapter 7 (smut)

i didn’t know what to do, panic clouding my thoughts. desperation surged within me, and in a moment of sheer instinct, i leaned forward, pressing my lips against his, hoping—no, praying—that it would be enough to calm the storm in his eyes. for a moment, it felt like time stopped. heeseung was still, his breath ragged against my lips, as if he hadn’t expected me to act this way. then, slowly, his grip on me softened, his body relaxing into the kiss. but even as he melted into it, i could feel the twisted love and obsession that drove him, a dark, suffocating need that had nothing to do with tenderness.

i quickly pulled away, my heart pounding in my chest as i gasped for air, my mind reeling. what did i just do? i couldn’t even begin to process the whirlwind of emotions that had overtaken me. but when i looked at heeseung, there was no trace of hesitation on his face—only satisfaction. his lips curved into a smug smile, his eyes gleaming with dark pleasure as he watched me struggle. “see?” he murmured, voice low and almost teasing. “it’s not so bad, is it now?” he stepped closer, as if savoring every moment of my discomfort, his words lingering in the air like a cruel reminder of how deep i was tangled in his web.

i backed up, my heart racing as i felt the cold, unforgiving wall press against my back. my hands were shaking, the panic rising in my chest, but there was nowhere to run. heeseung closed the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps, his presence overwhelming, as he stopped just inches from me. his breath was warm against my face, and i could feel his gaze burning into me, a mixture of possessiveness and twisted affection in his eyes. “nu-uh,” he said softly, his voice almost a purr, as if savoring my fear. “you said you’d do anything.”

tears streamed down my face, each one feeling heavier than the last as i begged him again, my voice breaking with desperation. "please, heeseung... don't do this..." i pleaded, but his expression remained unreadable, his gaze unwavering. gently, almost too tenderly, he reached up and wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumb, as if he were comforting me. it made my chest tighten even more, the contrast between his gentle touch and the violence that followed unsettling. without a word, he pulled the remote from his pocket, his fingers brushing over the buttons with a cold precision. a flick of his thumb, and i felt a sudden, searing jolt of pain course through my neck, the shock collar sending an electric surge that left me gasping in agony. heeseung’s face remained calm, his eyes cold as he watched me struggle.

heeseung’s voice was low and steady, his words laced with a hint of disappointment. “i thought you were learning, doll,” he said, his gaze sharp and calculating. “but i guess i was wrong.” he stepped back slightly, watching me writhe from the pain, his expression one of cruel amusement. “you’re still not understanding what it means to truly obey. don’t worry,” he added, his smile returning, though it was anything but reassuring. “i’ll teach you... eventually.”

before i could even react, heeseung's grip tightened around me, and in an instant, he tackled me to the ground. his body weight pinned me down, and i could feel the coldness in his touch, the raw, unrelenting force behind his movements. the playful façade was gone now, replaced by something far darker. his eyes, once filled with affection, now glinted with something more dangerous—his killer instinct fully on display. "you think you can just play with me?" he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "you’re mine now, whether you like it or not."

heeseung's lips pressed against my skin with an urgency that left me breathless, and before i could react, his teeth sank into the side of my neck. a sharp pain shot through me as he bit down, his grip on my body tightening even more. his teeth scraped across my skin, leaving a trail of bruises, marking me as his in a way i couldn’t escape. each bite felt like a warning, a claim on my very soul, as if he were carving his name into my flesh. i gasped, the fear and thrill mingling within me, but there was no escaping the darkness in his eyes.

a rush of conflicting emotions flooded me, and i felt something i shouldn't feel—an undeniable pull, an unsettling desire that twisted inside me. despite every logical thought screaming that this was wrong, that i should resist, a part of me wanted to be ravished by a murderer. the contradiction gnawed at me; i knew it was dark, dangerous, and twisted, but i couldn’t stop the flood of desire that surged through me. my heart pounded, each beat betraying the part of me that craved the very thing i feared. i tried to fight it, to push him away, but the magnetism of his touch, his dominance, was suffocating, and i couldn’t help myself.

without warning, heeseung's lips crashed down on mine, his kiss forceful, demanding, as if he were marking me, claiming me entirely as his own. i gasped against his mouth, the taste of him overwhelming my senses as he pushed deeper, his hands still gripping me tightly. the struggle was futile; i whimpered, my body trembling beneath him, caught between the resistance in my mind and the twisted pull of my own desire. he could feel my hesitation, but it didn’t matter—he was determined, insistent, and there was no escaping him now. his kiss grew harsher, like a punishment for my defiance, and yet i couldn’t help but melt into it, my body betraying me in ways i hadn’t anticipated.

heeseung’s grip tightened around my waist, and in a swift, forceful motion, he ripped my clothes off, the fabric tearing easily beneath his hands. my breath caught in my throat, the cool air hitting my exposed skin, making me acutely aware of how vulnerable i was beneath him. his eyes darkened with hunger, and for a moment, i was nothing but his prey. i felt the heat of his body pressing closer, his breath hot against my skin as he continued to strip me of my dignity, his actions relentless and without mercy. my heart raced, fear and desire intertwining as i lay there, unable to escape the storm he had unleashed.

heeseung’s body shifted against mine, the pressure of his form intensifying as he grinded himself against me with a slow, deliberate motion. the sensation was overwhelming, sending a jolt of heat through my body that i couldn’t ignore, no matter how much i tried to suppress it. his lips moved to my neck again, trailing kisses and bites that set my skin on fire, while his hips pressed insistently, a rhythm i had no control over. i could feel the heat building between us, and despite myself, a part of me responded, betraying every ounce of logic and reason that screamed for me to stop. but in that moment, all i could focus on was the tension, the connection, and the dark desire that swirled dangerously between us.

his breath came quicker, a low, almost imperceptible groan escaping his lips as his hands moved to unzip his pants, each motion deliberate, almost torturous. i felt the room closing in around us, the sound of the zipper louder than anything else in the silence, and my heart raced in response—whether from fear or something darker, i couldn't tell. his eyes never left mine, filled with an insatiable hunger as he stepped even closer, his body pressing into mine in a way that left no room for escape. the power he held over me, the way he made me feel both terrified and alive, tangled my thoughts and emotions into a knot i couldn’t untangle. heeseung’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, his gaze never wavering as he slowly lowered them, revealing more of his member with each inch of fabric that slipped down. the room seemed to grow even warmer, the air thick with a charged silence that made it impossible to breathe, let alone think. my body betrayed me again, a mixture of fear, curiosity, and something far more dangerous swirling inside me. i wanted to look away, to push him off, but i couldn't bring myself to move—trapped between the desire to flee and the magnetism pulling me closer.

heeseung was so big, the thought of him pushing deeper into me made my mind race, doubt swirling in my chest. the idea of him fitting inside me seemed impossible, almost terrifying. my breath hitched as i instinctively shifted, trying to create some space between us, but he moved with such precision, closing the gap once again. i couldn’t stop the way my body reacted, betraying the flood of emotions—fear, desire, and a twisted curiosity all mixing together in a way i couldn’t control.

heeseung’s movements were slow, controlled, as he slowly entered, and my body couldn’t help but betray me, a soft whimper escaping my lips before i could stop it. the pain was sharp, but it was quickly overshadowed by the overwhelming sensation of being filled, of him pushing deeper with each agonizing inch. my hands clenched the fabric of his shirt, my body trembling as i tried to hold onto any shred of control. the whimpering sounds that slipped from my lips only seemed to fuel him, his smirk growing wider, savoring every moment as he made me into a mess of conflicting desires and fears.

heeseung's pace quickened, each thrust sending waves of sensation coursing through my body, making me moan louder than i could control. his words slipped from his lips, dark and possessive. "you're such a good doll, taking it so well for me," he murmured, his voice low and taunting as if he reveled in the way my body responded, no matter how much i fought it. his hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer to him with each movement, pushing me further into a spiral i couldn’t escape. a part of me hated the way i was responding, but another part, the one i couldn’t deny, craved it, needing more, even as it terrified me.

the pressure inside me built with every thrust, my body trembling as the heat coiled tighter. i gasped for air, barely able to focus on anything other than the mounting sensation. "heeseung, i-i'm close," i whispered, my voice shaky, a mix of desperation and surrender in my words. the admission felt like a betrayal to every part of me that still wanted to resist, but i couldn’t stop it. heeseung’s smirk deepened, and his grip on me tightened as if he was determined to make me reach that breaking point, savoring every second of my vulnerability.

heeseung didn’t slow down, his pace only growing faster, harder, until the pressure inside me finally snapped. a gasp tore from my lips as i came, my body shuddering uncontrollably, the pleasure washing over me in waves that left me breathless. my hands gripped his shoulders for support, every inch of me aching with the intensity of the moment. i was disoriented, struggling to catch my breath, as the reality of what was happening hit me in a way that was both overwhelming and terrifying. despite everything, i couldn’t stop the rush of sensations that consumed me.

heeseung's grip tightened on me as he kept going, his movements frantic, his breath ragged against my skin. i could feel the way his body stiffened, the tension building in him as he got closer. "i’m close," he muttered, his voice low and strained. with one final thrust, his body tensed, and i felt him spill inside me, his release following right after mine. the sound of his breath, heavy and uneven, echoed in my ears as he held me tightly, both of us caught in the aftermath of a moment neither of us could fully grasp. i felt a strange mix of satisfaction and emptiness, a hollow echo of what we’d just shared, the room falling into an eerie silence.

heeseung leaned down, his lips brushing my forehead in a strangely tender gesture, as if the brutality of the moment had never happened. "have you learned your lesson now, doll?" his voice was soft, almost coaxing, but there was a coldness behind the words that sent a shiver down my spine. he pulled me into his arms, guiding me toward his room, and i felt my heart race with every step. i see the pictures of myself again, articles with my name printed in bold letters, all pinned up like trophies. his obsession was laid bare in front of me, a chilling display of how thoroughly he'd been watching, tracking every move i made. heeseung wasn’t just interested in me—he was consumed by me, and now, there was no way out.

this was the unmistakable sense that i was no longer just a person to him but a possession. he stepped behind me, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, "you're mine now, doll. there's no escaping me." his fingers tilted my chin, forcing me to meet his dark, possessive gaze. "you’ve always been the one. i just had to make you understand." and as the door clicked shut behind me, the suffocating truth settled in: i was trapped in his world, and the darkness i had tried to avoid was now the only reality i had left.

#enhypen #fanfiction #heeseung #yandere heeseung #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung fanfiction #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader

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writteninlunarlight-years · 3 months ago

Text

How they show affection to you throughout the relationship TW: AFAB Reader, Sexual implications, Cringey men, MY SHITTY ASS WRITERS BLOCK

Lucifer

In the beginning, your story together was anything but perfect. He held unyeilding views about sinners, and in his eyes, you were nothing more than a psychopathic killer, a hopeless drug addict, or even, heaven forbid, a demonic radio host.

Yet somehow, you brought joy into his life. Your corny puns and lighthearted jokes became the new normal for his troubled soul. You consistently put him first, even when you didn’t have to, your calm, gentle smile illuminating the darkest corners of his small world.

It truly began with the small gestures—special nicknames that he lovingly crafted just for you. One fateful day, he became visibly upset when Charlie dared to use the same nickname. He sulked for days, unable to shake off the irritation that someone else had used his personal nickname he made just for you.

As your connection deepened, he began expressing his feelings through lingering touches. Afraid to voice the vastness of his emotions, he sought to convey his affection subtly. He would hold your hand a fraction too long during exchanges, his fingers brushing against yours with a hesitant familiarity. When he tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers lingered against your skin just a moment longer. He would pull you close, his hand resting possessively around your waist, silently claiming you as his own.

Eventually, the weight of his unspoken feelings became too much to bear. He opted for indirect confessions, praising your beauty and grace instead of uttering the words "I love you," which once led to heartache. He swept you off your feet, whether in a playful dance or as you strolled through the infernal streets of Hell, reveling in the joy of simply being together.

The moment of true confession came unexpectedly while Kattie Killjoy was out on the road with her camera crew. She stopped you both, curious about the new sinner who had captured King Lucifer's attention. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, declaring to the Hell's rings that you were his.

That kiss sparked a meaningful conversation about the future of your relationship and the love that had been quietly brewing between you for so long. From that moment, Lucifer began guiding you, helping you find your footing as Hell's next queen, all the while cherishing the fact that you chose to stand by his side.

Alastor

He didn’t hate you; instead, he regarded you as a mere plaything—a soul eager to make a deal, much like countless others before you. To him, people were simply pawns in a grand game, assets he could exploit over time. Yet, he never anticipated the profound impact you would have on his life.

Your calm presence was soothing, like the perfect Jazz song on a long night. You found joy in learning about his past, willingly immersing yourself in the world of Jazz, and becoming an enthusiastic participant. It warmed his heart to know he had at least one dedicated listener who wasn’t bound to him by ownership.

He couldn’t help but notice the way your hands lingered near him, a delicate dance of respect and curiosity. Your decision to take up dancing lessons at Mimzy’s work didn’t go unnoticed either. He appreciated your efforts far more than he would ever admit, silently cherishing the way you sought to connect with him.

It quickly became apparent to everyone in Hell—save for the two of you—that something special was blossoming between you. Your every move was shadowed by a newfound intimacy, and Alastor always seemed prepared with an extra outfit for dancing, making it almost too easy for others to see the affection that was growing between you.

Alastor, recognizing your hesitation to risk hurting him, decided to take the plunge and make the first move. He whisked you away to Mimzy’s dance hall, where you spent the night twirling and swaying together. While dancing was not unusual for you two, it was during the slow songs that he drew you impossibly close, enveloping you in a warmth that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

The truth of your shared feelings came to light when Rosie danced by and playfully remarked on how cute and deadly the two of you appeared together. With a broad smile illuminating his face, Alastor looked down at you, and before you could process the moment, he captured your lips in a searing kiss.

This kiss ignited a whirlwind of chaos around you—a symphony of Mimzy’s complaints, Rosie’s laughter, and the distant hum of TV static as carnage erupted in the streets, instigated by an irate man who had glimpsed a glitchy, blurry photo of your exchange. Although the man who snapped the picture met a swift end, the image ultimately found its way into Vox’s hands, setting off a chain reaction of consequences.

Adam

He was the first man, the quintessential figure, the one and only Adam of the Garden of Eden. With an aura of irresistible charm, he dismissed the notion of singular love or romance, believing he needed a multitude of women to satisfy his desires. Sweet, innocent feelings had no place in his world—at least, that’s what he thought.

Little did he know, you were slowly weaving your way into the fabric of his heart. You were the epitome of a perfect angel, obedient and charmingly polite. Initially, he found your demeanor a tad annoying, but as night fell, his imagination transformed you into the devoted wife he never knew he craved.

Over time, his nicknames for you evolved from crude jests to tender pet names, each one reserved solely for you. If anyone dared to inquire about this softer side, he would scoff, brushing it off as if it never happened. The same went for the fleeting touches—his instinct to stand closely behind you, resting his head on yours or your shoulder—he would never confess to being utterly smitten.

His feelings became undeniable when even the mere mention of Eve or Lilith in your presence ignited a fierce jealousy within him. He yearned to shout from the rooftops that you were the one—the "it girl" who had captured his heart. You were his forever, the beginning and the end.

To solidify these feelings and coax you into his embrace, he made it his mission to cling to you, undeterred by gossip or judgment. He wanted you to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his devotion to you matched yours to him.

The pivotal moment that brought your lips together was orchestrated by Lute, who quite literally pushed you into Adam. Just as he was grappling with cold feet, he found himself frozen in place, your wide, sparkling eyes locked on his. In a whirlwind of surprise, Lute nudged you forward, and as he instinctively caught you, one hand on your lower back and the other tangling in your hair, he realized your hands were resting on his chest. In that electric moment, your lips met, sealing a connection neither of you anticipated.

From that day forward, Lute took immense pride in her matchmaking skills. Whenever Adam wasn’t around, she reveled in bragging about how she had transformed the notorious “massive asshole” into a devoted boyfriend, silencing his incessant boasts about his past conquests. This victory was a personal triumph for her and a welcome relief for the other exorcists, who were finally spared from his relentless chatter about your perfect form.

Husk

He had never been on the lookout for love—not even before his untimely demise. To him, it felt like a distant fantasy, something lost in the chaos of his life. As a gambling man with a penchant for risk, he often found that women were put off by his reckless ways and his struggle with alcohol.

But then you entered his life, and it took far too long for him to realize that his drinking had lessened, replaced by an increasing fascination with you. You became his unexpected remedy, igniting an obsession with your radiant smile and infectious laughter. Your genuine spirit shone brightly, even when the world felt heavy and overwhelming.

He transformed your drinks into special concoctions, always incorporating your favorites—whether they were alcoholic or not. Each glass was adorned with playful fruits and whimsical garnishes aimed at coaxing your smile.

One day, he casually suggested that you help him clean the bar, seizing the opportunity to brush his fingers against your lower back or hold your hands, delighting in the warmth of your presence.

He longed to take a step toward something more official, but with Charlie’s exuberance and Alastor’s unpredictable nature, commitment felt daunting. Yet, it was clear to everyone in the hotel how deeply he cherished you. Encouraged by their nudges, he finally gathered the courage to ask you out, only to stumble over his words and blurt out a clumsy, unrelated question that only made you smile wider.

Determined to make his intentions clear, he devised a plan to ask you out on his own terms. He orchestrated a lovely meal and implored everyone in the hotel to vacate for the afternoon. Once the scene was set, everything fell into place. Your laughter at his classy magic tricks and the sweet rhythm of your conversation made him realize—this was love blooming in its purest form.

When he finally confessed, he was beaming—a remarkable feat for someone who rarely wore a smile. Your genuine warmth and unwavering affection were all that mattered to him, melting away his grumpy exterior.

From that moment on, Husk transformed into a new man. He found purpose in his days, a reason to look forward to the end of his shifts. Yes, the looming presence of the radio demon still weighed on his mind, but you were there, ready to fill the void in his heart with everything he had always longed for.

Vox

You were nothing more than an assistant in his eyes—just a cog in the machine while he juggled the chaotic dynamics of his half-hearted relationship with Val and Vel. Love felt like a distraction; all he craved was power and the sweet satisfaction of seeing Alastor kneeling before him.

Yet, you were an infuriating thorn in his side, clad in alluring short skirts and stockings, flashing a smile that could light up the darkest corners of Hell. Each comment from Val or Vel about you ignited a possessive spark within him. He wanted you all to himself, and he was determined to keep it that way.

The nature of your interactions began to change, starting innocently with the passing of papers or showcasing new products on the tablet. But it quickly escalated to lingering touches—his hands resting possessively on your waist, gentle massages on your shoulders, and teasing breaths against your neck as he leaned in to whisper.

He was intent on making you want him, but pride held him back from crawling to you; that would be too undignified. Instead, he resolved to ensure you needed him just as much. One promise rang clear in his mind: he would never, ever use his hypnosis against you.

His feelings became undeniable the day Val cornered you, a tense moment exacerbated by his foul mood, thanks to Angel Dust’s antics and the fact that you had captured Vox's attention. What began as a heated conversation erupted into a full-blown brawl between the two men, both vying for your affection in one way or another.

When Vox emerged victorious, albeit with a few scrapes, he was seething. But the moment you approached him, your worried eyes searching his, everything shifted. In that instant, he realized you were the one—the only one he would ever need. Forget Alastor on his knees; it was you he craved at his side.

With one passionate kiss, he made his feelings clear, giving Val a defiant middle finger as you and Vox ignited headlines across Hell with your new love story. He would do anything for you—truly anything—and he meant every word.

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