#crushed beyond dust | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rizzanon · 2 months ago

Text

Relentless

a dick grayson and batsis! reader oneshot ft. barbara (oracle) and tim (robin) | m.list

Synopsis: you’re too stubborn to sit out during the events of gotham’s cataclysm, your brother forces you to do so | events somewhat align with batman: cataclysm and nightwing v2 #19-20 if you squint

The city felt like it was crumbling under his feet. Gotham was no stranger to chaos, but this… this was beyond anything Dick had seen before. Buildings were reduced to skeletal remains, fires burned unchecked, and the air itself was a blend of dust and despair. Every cry for help cut through him, a sharp reminder of how little time there was and how many lives hung in the balance.

But none of that mattered to Dick Grayson as much as finding you.

His pulse hammered in his skull, drowning out logic, drowning out reason. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight. Knew that in the grand scheme of things, there were priorities, a bigger picture. He was supposed to be coordinating efforts, supposed to be leading, but—

The comms buzzed in his ear. “Dick, we’ve got survivors reported near Robinson Park,” Barbara said, her voice calm but tense. “And the GCPD needs backup at—”

“I’m already on it,” he interrupted, leaping over a chasm in the ruined street below. He wasn’t, not entirely, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain. Barbara would only try to talk him out of it, and he didn’t have the patience to argue.

He darted through the wreckage, his heart hammering in his chest as he scanned the devastation around him. The comm in his ear buzzed with updates—rescue missions, calls for backup, news of more collapses—but he barely heard any of it. His focus was singular, cutting through the noise like a blade.

You.

You weren’t reacheable.

You weren’t at the Manor, where Alfred swore you’d been earlier.

And the longer you were unreachable, the more scenarios played out in his head—each one worse than the last.

His hands tightened into fists as he swung onto a ledge, surveying the ruins below. Guilt gnawed at him with every second you remained missing. He’d let you leave. He’d been too distracted to notice when you slipped out, too focused on coordinating the larger response.

And you weren’t one of them—a vigilante trained to face Gotham’s dangers.

Now he couldn’t stop imagining the worst.

“Nightwing, update,” Barbara’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Still looking,” he replied shortly.

“Looking for what?” she pressed.

A beat of silence. Dick hesitated, debating whether to tell her. “It’s—personal,” he finally said, his voice strained.

Barbara sighed. “Dick, if you need help—”

“I’ve got it,” he snapped. Too sharp. Too harsh.

He regretted it instantly, but there was no time for apologies.

“Sorry, Babs. I’ll check in soon.”

He cut the line before she could argue. Guilt settled like a stone in his stomach, but he forced it down. There wasn’t room for it. There wasn’t room for anything but the pounding of his heart and the singular focus that drove him forward.

He needed to find you.

He had to find you.

And he had to do it now.

What if he was too late?

The city was almost unrecognizable.

He wasn’t just worried. He was terrified.

He tried to tell himself you were fine. That you were just out of range. That you were waiting out the worst of it. But his brain refused to believe anything that wasn’t the worst-case scenario. His brain wouldn’t stop feeding him every horrific possibility.

What if he was too late?

What if you were buried? Trapped beneath the collapsed remains of a building, lungs filling with dust, crushed under tons of debris while he was out here wasting precious seconds?

What if someone had found you before he did? Not a rescuer. Not a friend. Gotham brought out the worst in people, and desperation turned them into something even uglier. He’d seen it before. Knew exactly what happened when chaos stripped away the rules and left people scrambling to survive.

What if you were already—

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

His breath was coming too fast, his chest locking up, his mind spinning out, but he forced himself to keep moving.

You were alive.

You had to be.

And if you weren’t—

He cut the thought off before it could form.

He refused.

Because the alternative was unthinkable.

The alternative was losing you.

And after everything—after his parents, after Jason, after everything he had already been forced to endure—he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

His grip on his escrima sticks was too tight, his knuckles aching from the strain. He didn’t even realize how tense his body was until a sharp pain bloomed in his temple, his muscles screaming at him for running on pure adrenaline.

Didn’t matter.

Didn’t care.

He had to find you.

And then—

There.

A flash of movement, a figure hunched near a collapsed streetlamp.

His breath hitched.

You.

For a second, he didn’t trust his own eyes.

Didn’t trust that you were real, that this wasn’t some desperate hallucination conjured by the sheer force of his panic.

But then his vision tunneled in, focused, locked.

His jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

The relief when he found you was almost overwhelming.

You were crouched near a toppled streetlamp, your hands gripping a slab of concrete as you worked to free a trapped man. A group of injured civilians huddled nearby, their expressions a mix of fear and hope. Blood smeared your arms—whether your own or someone else’s, he didn’t know. Dirt streaked your face. Your clothes were torn, singed at the edges, but you didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

For a moment, he just stared.

Alive.

You were alive.

The relief that hit him was visceral.

He felt the breath rush out of him, the tension that had been choking him releasing in one sharp exhale. His stomach twisted so violently he thought he might be sick.

Because for one agonizing moment, the sheer weight of almost losing you crashed into him like a tidal wave.

But that relief was quickly replaced by something else—anger, frustration, fear, all swirling together in a storm he barely kept contained.

Because what the hell were you thinking?

Relief and anger collided in his chest. Relief that you were alive, and anger that you were here, in the middle of this hellscape, with no protection, no training, and no regard for your own safety.

Did you even realize what you had done to him?

How he had felt?

How his mind had spiraled and crashed and burned in the absence of your voice, filling in the blanks with every possible way you could have died?

Did you know what it would have done to him if you hadn’t been here when he finally found you?

He swallowed hard, throat raw.

No.

He couldn’t think like that.

Not now.

Not yet.

Right now, there was only one thing to do.

Move.

Sliding down the rubble, he reached your side without a word. His gloved hands joining yours to lift the concrete, muscles coiling as he braced against it. You didn’t even look up, didn’t even look at him, too focused on the man in front of you.

“Almost… got it,” you gritted out, your voice hoarse from the dust and strain.

Dick didn’t answer.

Didn’t trust himself to answer.

Didn’t trust himself not to let the sheer force of everything he was feeling spill out in a way he wouldn’t be able to take back.

So instead, he just acted.

The concrete shifted beneath their combined effort, and together, you managed to free the civilian.

“Thank you,” the man gasped as you helped him to his feet.

Medics arrived moments later, moving in to take over.

But Dick barely registered them.

His gaze stayed locked on you.

Still kneeling, still breathing hard, exhaustion making your hands tremble as they hovered in your lap.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, the fear hadn’t fully let go.

Because all he could think—all he could see—was how easily you could have not been here.

How close he had come.

How close he had always been.

And it terrified him.

Once the medics whisked every injured civilian away, only then did you turn to Dick, your expression lighting up in recognition.

“Nightwing!” you said, surprised but smiling faintly. “There’s another building down the block,” you began, gesturing to the smoke in the distance. “I think there are people trapped inside. If we—”

“Stop,” Dick cut you off, his voice sharp. He stepped closer and grabbed your shoulders, his grip firm but not harsh, his eyes scanning your face like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him. “Just… stop.”

You blinked, startled. “What? Why? There are still—”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through in the past few hours?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Do you know how terrified I’ve been? How close I was to thinking I’d never find you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off.

“You’re hurt,” he snapped, his voice rising. “You’re bleeding, you’re exhausted, and you’re not supposed to be out here in the first place. What the hell were you thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed.

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling away from him. “I was thinking about helping people, Dick. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

“You’re not fine!” he snapped. “You’re literally bleeding. You’re not trained for this. And you’re not—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “You’re not supposed to be out here,” he finished, his voice quieter but no less firm.

“And what if I did nothing?” you retorted, shrugging off his hands. “What if I just sat around, waiting for someone else to save the day? I’m not useless, Dick. I can help!”

Dick’s jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling over. “You’re not useless, but you’re not invincible either. You think I can just stand by and watch you put yourself in danger? You’re my sister, for god’s sake! This is not your job.”

You flinched at his tone but didn’t back down. “So what, I’m just supposed to sit around while people die? I can’t do that, Dick. You’re my brother, but that doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do!”

“And I can’t lose you!” he yelled, his voice cracking.

The words hung in the air, raw and heavy.

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

The two of you stared at each other, the tension between you crackling like static. Finally, Dick exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “There’s a safehouse nearby. You’re getting treated, and you’re staying put. That’s not up for debate.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look on his face stopped you.

“Please.”

Reluctantly, you nodded.

The safehouse was quiet. Not calm—just quiet. The kind of quiet that sat heavy in the air, pressing against the walls, filling every inch of space between breath and thought. Small but sturdy, its reinforced walls muted the sounds of Gotham's suffering. Inside, it felt like time slowed, the weight of everything settling in the silence between you and Dick.

He guided you inside with a firm hand on your shoulder, his grip strong but not harsh, like he was afraid you'd bolt at any second. His fingers tightened for just a moment before he forced them to relax, like even he wasn’t sure whether he was trying to keep you close or just convince himself you were really here.

Alive.

It should have been a relief. It was a relief. But it didn’t settle the way relief was supposed to. It didn’t ease the tightness in his chest or quiet the thoughts still running rampant in his mind. If anything, it only made them worse.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to a worn-out chair in the corner of the room.

The word came out sharper than he meant. Short. Clipped. Frayed at the edges with everything he wasn’t saying.

You obeyed without much argument, and something about that made his stomach twist. You never obeyed this easily. Never gave in without at least a token protest.

That wasn’t a good sign.

Exhaustion was finally catching up to you. Your legs ached, your arms stung from countless scrapes, and every breath was laced with the sharp tang of smoke. Your hands trembled slightly as they rested on your lap.

His gaze flickered over you, cataloging every scrape, every bruise, every smear of blood. The acrid scent of smoke clung to you, burned into the fabric of your clothes, tangled in your hair. The jacket you wore was torn, singed at the edges, dirt and ash streaked across the fabric.

How long had you been out there?

How many times had you come close to something you couldn’t walk away from?

Dick swallowed hard and turned away before those thoughts could spiral into something worse.

He didn't waste a second, rifling through a nearby first aid kit with quick, efficient movements. He looked up briefly, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“Take off your jacket,” he said, already kneeling in front of you with the kit in hand.

A flicker of hesitation. A barely-there pause.

“I told you, I’m fine,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

A lie. An obvious one. But that wasn’t what made his jaw clench. It was the way you said it. The way your voice wavered, just slightly. The way you wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Not a request.

Not this time.

The tension in his voice made you sigh in defeat. You tugged at your jacket, hissing as the fabric pulled against an especially deep scrape on your arm. Dick was on it immediately, gently easing the sleeve off for you.

The jacket his the floor, forgotten.

Silence settled again as his hands moved with practiced precision, cleaning the cuts and bandaging them with care. But he still wasn’t looking at you—not really. His jaw was clenched so tightly you thought it might snap, and the silence between you felt heavy with everything unsaid.

“I was fine out there,” you said quietly, breaking the silence.

Dick’s hands paused mid-movement, his fingers hovering over the next bandage.

“You call this fine?” he asked, his voice tight as he gestured to the mess of bruises and scrapes covering your arms.

You said nothing.

Because there was nothing to say.

And that only made it worse.

Dick forced himself to keep going, fingers moving automatically, muscle memory taking over. He cleaned each wound, wrapped each bandage, all while his mind spun in circles, overthinking, overanalyzing.

If he had found you later—if he had been just one step behind—what then?

Would you still be here?

Would he have found you in time?

Would he have found you at all?

The thought made something crack deep in his chest, something raw and ugly that he didn’t have time to deal with.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sharp chirp of his comm interrupted you. Dick pressed a finger to his earpiece, his expression darkening as he listened.

“Nightwing,” Barbara’s voice crackled through the comm. “We’ve got a situation on 14th and Bay. The two apartment buildings there collapsed, and people are still trapped inside. Can you get there?”

Dick’s jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a slow, measured breath.

“On it,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him.

He returned his focus to you, quickly finishing the bandage he’d been working on. His hands moved faster now, a clear sign that his mind was already on the next crisis.

“Stay here,” he said, standing up and grabbing his escrima sticks from the nearby table.

“Dick—”

“No,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “Stay. Here. Please.” His voice softened on the last word, his eyes meeting yours with a rare vulnerability. It was unwilling, unintentional—but real. And he hated how much weight it carried.

Because he never asked.

But this?

This was him asking.

“I’ll come back, but I need to know you’re safe. Don’t make me worry about you on top of everything else, okay?”

You hesitated, the weight of his plea settling uncomfortably in your chest. Dick held your gaze, searching for something, anything, that would tell him you understood.

Finally, finally, you nodded. You nodded, if only to ease the tension in his shoulders.

“Good,” he said, his voice softening just slightly. He gave you one last glance before turning and heading toward the door.

The sound of it clicking shut behind him felt louder than it should have, leaving you alone with the distant echoes of Gotham’s chaos and your own restless thoughts.

For a few minutes, you sat there, staring at the bandages on your arms, his words replaying in your mind.

Stay here. Please.

You hated the idea of sitting still while the city burned. There were people out there who needed help—people like the ones you’d already saved. And sitting here, safe and useless, felt like a betrayal to them.

You glanced at the door.

You made your decision.

The chaos in Gotham was endless, a cacophony of crumbling structures, distant cries for help, and the ever-present smell of smoke. Dick was exhausted, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Beside him, Tim was just as determined, the two of them working seamlessly to pull survivors from the wreckage and guide them to safety. Barbara’s voice crackled in their earpieces, directing them to the next area in need of aid.

“Nightwing, Robin, you’ve got a fire spreading at Kane Plaza. Emergency crews can’t get there in time—” Barbara’s voice faltered for a second before steadying. “I’m sending coordinates now.”

Dick barely registered her words. His sharp gaze had locked onto something else—or rather, someone else.

There you were, weaving through the rubble as if you belonged in this nightmare, helping an injured man to his feet while gesturing for a small group of civilians to follow. Dust and grime clung to your torn clothes, your hair plastered to your forehead with sweat. But it wasn’t just your presence that froze him—it was the new scrapes on your arms, ripping through the bandages that he wrapped on you, the limp in your step, and the reckless determination in your eyes.

He’d told you to stay at the safehouse. Not even an hour ago. He’d begged you.

“Nightwing?” Tim’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What’s going on?”

Dick didn’t respond. His chest tightened, a knot of anger and fear winding together as he leapt down from the scaffolding, leaving Tim behind.

You felt his presence before you saw him. The weight of his gaze was unmistakable, even from behind the domino mask. When he landed a few feet away, the sharp intake of his breath was audible.

“Dick—”

But you didn’t get another word out. His hand wrapped gently but firmly around your arm, halting your movements.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was low, but the edge in it was impossible to miss.

“I’m helping—”

“I told you to stay at the safehouse!” he snapped, his grip tightening slightly. “What part of ‘stay put’ didn’t you understand?”

“I couldn’t just sit there while people needed help!” you protested, pulling against his hold, but he didn’t let go.

Dick’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. He turned to Tim, who had swung down to join them, watching the scene with wide eyes.

“Robin, head to Kane Plaza. Oracle needs you there.”

Tim hesitated, glancing between the two of you. “What about—”

“Go,” Dick ordered, his voice firm.

Tim nodded reluctantly, shooting you a sympathetic look before grappling away.

Dick didn’t say another word as he steered you away from the rubble, his grip on your arm unyielding. You tried protesting again, but he didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he led you toward the clocktower.

The ride to Barbara’s clocktower was suffocating, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. When you arrived, Dick didn’t even give you a chance to argue before he guided you inside, his hand on your shoulder as if he didn’t trust you not to run off again.

Barbara turned her chair away from the monitors, her gaze flickering between the two of you. “Well, this looks promising,” she remarked lightly, though her sharp eyes immediately caught the fresh scrapes on your arms.

“She didn’t stay at the safehouse,” Dick said, his voice clipped, every syllable brimming with restrained anger. He released your arm finally but stayed rooted just a few feet away, his posture stiff and unrelenting. “She decided to run off and—”

“Save it,” Barbara interrupted, wheeling toward you. “I can see where this is going, and we don’t need another lecture right now. Let me look at those cuts before you get infected.”

You didn’t argue. The exhaustion was hitting harder now, sinking into your limbs, turning every movement sluggish. You dropped onto the couch with a quiet huff, still glaring at Dick as you did.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, more for your own sake than anyone else’s.

Barbara pulled out a first aid kit and parked beside you, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Sure, you are,” she said dryly, pulling an antiseptic wipe from the pack. “Let me guess. You decided to play hero again?”

You winced as she dabbed at a particularly deep scrape. “I was helping people,” you mumbled. “That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Barbara said, glancing at Dick as he paced. “And judging by the big guy over there, I’m guessing it didn’t go over too well.”

You didn’t answer, and Barbara gave you a sympathetic look. “This might sting,” she warned, pressing the antiseptic deeper into the wound.

You hissed in pain but said nothing, biting your lip to keep from reacting further.

Barbara’s tone softened as she continued, “You know, for what it’s worth, you’ve got guts. A lot of people wouldn’t have run into the chaos like you did.”

Your eyes darted toward Dick, who had stopped pacing to stand by the window, staring out at the broken cityscape. Even through his domino mask, you could feel the weight of his disapproval.

“He doesn’t see it that way,” you muttered.

Barbara followed your gaze and chuckled quietly. “Oh, he sees it. He just doesn’t know what to do with it.” She paused. “That’s how Dick operates. All heart, but when things get messy, he acts more Batman than he realises.”

You scoffed. “Feels like he just wants to control me.”

Barbara shook her head. “No, he just doesn’t want to lose you. It’s his greatest fear.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “Well, he’s got a funny way of showing it.”

Barbara tilted her head, studying you carefully. “You know, my father once told me that fear makes people act in all kinds of strange ways. Dick’s no different. Doesn’t mean he’s right, but it does mean he’s scared out of his mind.”

You frowned, unsure of how to respond to that. “Still doesn’t excuse him treating me like I’m five.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Barbara agreed, tying off the last bandage. “But he’s trying. It’s just… messy. And loud.” She smirked slightly, patting your arm. “There. All patched up. Try not to give him a stroke next time.”

You managed a small, weak smile. “Thanks.”

Barbara wheeled back, gesturing toward Dick. “Your turn, champ. Don’t break anything.”

She disappeared into the adjacent room, leaving you and Dick in an unbearable silence. Dick didn’t turn around right away. When he finally did, his movements were slow, deliberate. Measured, like he was forcing himself to keep steady.

“You promised me,” he said finally, his voice low but sharp. “You said you understood. You said you’d stay at the safehouse.”

“I did understand,” you replied, standing to face him. “But I couldn’t just sit there, Dick. People needed help.”

“They didn’t need your help,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I was helping people,” you argued, your voice growing louder to match his. “Just like you and everyone else out there!”

“No, not like me!” he roared, stepping closer. “I have training, experience. You don’t.”

Your chest tightened. Your hands clenched into fists.

“And whose fault is that?” The words came out before you could stop them, laced with every ounce of bitterness you felt. “You and Bruce never let me do anything. You never trusted me enough to let me try.”

“This isn’t about trust!” he shouted. “It’s about keeping you alive. It’s about making sure you don’t end up like—”

He cut himself off, but the weight of his unfinished sentence hung heavy in the air. You already knew how that sentence ended.

“Like who?” you demanded, though you didn’t need to ask.

Dick looked away, jaw clenching. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. Rough.

“Like Jason.”

The name landed between you like a gunshot.

“I couldn’t save him.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t there to stop him. And if I lose you too—”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

His words trailed off, but the raw emotion in his voice hit you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, your anger faltered, but the frustration bubbling in your chest refused to die down completely.

“I’m not Jason,” you said softly. “I’m not him, Dick. You can’t keep punishing me for what happened to him.”

“I’m not punishing you,” he countered. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Well, maybe I don’t need your protection,” you shot back, voice breaking just slightly.

“Maybe I just need you to believe in me.”

“I do believe in you,” he said, his voice desperate. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you throw yourself into danger like this.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore, Dick,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can make my own choices.”

“Not when they’re this reckless,” he countered, his frustration boiling over. “Do you even realize what could’ve happened to you out there? You could’ve been crushed under rubble, or worse—”

“But I wasn’t!” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “I was helping people, and I made it out. Why can’t you just trust that I know what I’m doing?”

“Because you don’t!”

His voice cracked.

"You don't,” he repeated, quieter now. “And that's what terrifies me."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily between you. You swallowed hard, blinking back tears.

“I hate you.”

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t even true.

But it still hit like a punch to the gut.

Dick flinched. Actually flinched. Like you’d physically struck him.

You turned before you could see his reaction, before you could second-guess yourself, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind you.

Minutes passed before Barbara found him.

Dick sank onto the couch, his head falling into his hands as the weight of the argument crashed over him. He’d handled it horribly—he knew that—but the fear of losing you had clouded his judgment.

"That bad, huh?" she said, wheeling closer.

“She hates me,” Dick muttered.

Barbara raised an eyebrow. “Hate’s a strong word.”

“She said it,” he replied, his voice muffled by his hands.

Barbara sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Well, you didn’t exactly handle that with kid gloves.”

“What was I supposed to do, Babs?” Dick asked, looking up at her, his eyes filled with frustration. “She keeps putting herself in danger. I can’t just let that slide.”

Barbara wheeled closer. “You really aren’t getting it, are you?”

Dick barely lifted his head. “Enlighten me.”

“She’s angry because she wants your trust,” Barbara said plainly. “She wants your approval. And instead, all she gets is you treating her like she’s a fragile piece of glass.”

Barbara tilted her head. “You sure you’re not projecting a little?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked defensively.

Barbara shrugged. “You couldn’t be there for Jason, so now you’re overcompensating with her. It’s understandable, but it’s not fair.”

Dick bristled but didn’t argue. “She’s not ready for this, Babs. She’s not trained.”

“Then train her,” Barbara said simply.

“It’s not that easy,” Dick argued. “This life—it’s dangerous. If she gets hurt—”

“She’s already out there, Dick,” Barbara interrupted. “She’s already helping. You can either keep trying to stop her or actually give her the tools to do it safely.”

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I can’t lose her, Babs. Not like Jason.”

“And you won’t,” Barbara said firmly. “But you’re going to push her away if you keep treating her like she can’t handle herself.”

Dick stared at the floor, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know what to do.”

Barbara rolled closer, resting a hand on his arm. “Talk to her. Really talk to her. And listen, for once. You might be surprised by what she has to say.”

He nodded slowly, though the conflict in his eyes remained. “I’ll try,” he said quietly.

“You’d better,” Barbara said with a small smirk. “Or I’ll knock some sense into you myself.”

The rooftop was still and cold, the night stretching out endlessly beneath the Gotham skyline. You had sought solitude here, the only place where you could distance yourself from everything that had happened—the argument, the anger, the hurt. All of it weighed heavily in your chest, a constant reminder that things hadn’t been the same for a while.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears, slow and deliberate. You didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge the figure who approached you. But you knew it was Dick. You knew it was him before he even spoke. Dick’s presence was impossible to ignore.

You didn’t turn.

You didn’t want to.

It wasn’t because you didn’t care—it was because you didn’t know how to process everything yet.

“Looks like I didn’t have to look far this time,” Dick’s voice was steady but tinged with something else—something quieter, softer, and laced with the weight of everything that had happened.

You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the skyline. The space between you two felt wide, like an ocean, even though he was close. The argument from earlier hung in the air like a thick fog, and you didn’t know how to navigate it. You didn’t even know how to feel anymore. His words had been sharp, filled with the fear and frustration of someone who cared too much and yet didn’t know how to show it.

Dick didn’t push. He didn’t demand anything of you. Instead, he slowly sat beside you, his presence warm but not invasive, a reminder that no matter what had been said, he was still here. You didn’t know if you were ready for this conversation yet, but it was happening anyway.

The silence between you both stretched on, thick and heavy. And then, finally, Dick spoke.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was low, full of regret. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’ve been… all over the place. I’ve been scared. I should’ve listened instead of just reacting. I know I hurt you.”

You flinched, not because the words were harsh, but because the truth in them made everything feel too real. You had expected him to come up here with anger still in his eyes, ready for round two. But this… this was different. His voice was raw, stripped of any pretense. He was trying—more than you had realised—trying to understand. You couldn’t ignore that.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know you were scared. I should’ve understood that. I pushed you away when I should’ve been listening, too.”

Dick turned to face you, his eyes softening. “I just—” He hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair, his face filled with an exhaustion that you hadn’t noticed before. “I don’t want to lose anyone else, you know? I didn’t mean to treat you like you weren’t capable of making your own decisions. I just… I saw you out there, running into danger, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Jason. I couldn’t stop thinking about what could happen to you, and the last thing I want is to watch you… slip away like he did. I can’t handle that. Not again.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words sink into your chest. The fear, the hurt—it was all there, and you’d been blind to it. Blind to how much his actions came from that place of love and pain.

“I should’ve been there for you,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “I should’ve known how hard this was for you. I should’ve known that you weren’t just trying to control me. You were trying to protect me. And I… I didn’t make it easy. I’ve been too focused on trying to prove myself. I’ve been angry, and I haven’t been fair.”

Dick let out a deep sigh, as if the weight of everything had just hit him in that moment, too. “I’ve been hard on you, and I know it. But it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. It was because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. It’s like everything else I’ve lost—like it’s all going to happen again. And I don’t know how to make it stop.”

You turned to him then, meeting his eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. “I get it, Dick. I really do. But you can’t keep pushing me away like that. I get that you’re scared. I’m scared too, but I don’t want to be treated like I’m… fragile. Like I’m someone you need to shield from the world. I can handle it. I can handle myself.”

Dick’s face tightened, but not with anger. It was something else—a mix of relief and guilt and vulnerability all wrapped up in one.

“I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to just let go and let you do your thing. I feel like I’m failing you every time I don’t step in and stop you. But maybe… maybe it’s me who’s been holding on too tight. Maybe I need to learn to trust you more, to let you make your choices, even when I don’t agree with them.”

A silence passed between you two, heavy but not suffocating. You could feel the air shift, the tension lessening, like the pieces of a puzzle were finally falling into place.

“I don’t want you to let me go completely,” you said, your voice trembling. “But I do need you to trust that I know what I’m doing. That I’m not just… trying to get myself hurt out there. I want to help, and I want to be here. I just need you to believe in me.”

“I do,” Dick whispered, his eyes softening. “I do believe in you. I always have. I just… I guess I haven’t been great at showing it.” He shifted, looking at you with a mixture of apology and affection. “I’m sorry for not seeing how you’ve been feeling. For not really listening. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t enough.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “I haven’t been perfect either. I’ve been selfish, not thinking about how my actions might affect you. I’ve been… stubborn. But I understand now. I do.”

Dick’s hand slowly reached out, hovering for a moment before resting gently on your shoulder. His touch was warm, tentative, as if he wasn’t sure whether you would pull away. But you didn’t. You leaned into it, into him. And when you finally met his gaze again, you saw something new in his eyes—something softer, more open.

He pulled you into a tight hug then, his arms wrapping around you with the same sense of protection that had once felt like a cage but now felt like a lifeline. “You’re relentless, you know that?” he whispered, his voice muffled against your hair.

You laughed quietly, the sound light but filled with warmth. “I know.”

Silence filled the air for a few moments.

“But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dick murmured, his grip tightening around you as if he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to. And in that moment, the world felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain, as you both held on—because this, this was the way forward.

Don’t be surprised if you see something similar to this in another one of my future works 🤫 hope you guys enjoyed this 🫶

taglist (open): @k1arar3 @kingshitonly @rainnyydaysworld | ask to be added <3

495 notes · View notes

amongemeraldclouds · 9 months ago

Text

love blooms in strange places

When Mattheo was assigned to help you tend to the greenhouse as punishment, he never expected detention could be so pleasant.

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader | Based on this request

Warning: fluff, one use of y/n, used my creative license to come up with plant lore and magic to serve the plot.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.7k words

When Mattheo Riddle started his day, the greenhouse was the last place he expected he would be. Yet that’s exactly where he was headed, kicking up dirt as he went.

Snape’s words haunted him as he slowed to the door. “Mr. Riddle, you had been in detention several times just this month alone. If you will not learn by reflection, you will learn by deed. As punishment, you will have to help y/n cultivate plants for a week.”

Before Mattheo could open his mouth, Snape raised his hand. “Any protests and we will make it a month.” He knew better than to talk.

He shook his head as he opened the door, eager to get it over with. He took in pots and plants of various shades of green, color sprouting sporadically where flowers and fruits blossomed. Then there was you.

You saw the curly haired boy approach, Mattheo Riddle, you recalled. Everything about him spelled trouble from the frown fixed on his face, to his askew tie, and the way he strut as if the entire world bent to his will.

You smiled and introduced yourself politely. Your mum after all had raised you to give others a chance. To look beyond first impressions.

Still, it didn’t surprise you when his frown stayed glued to his face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he just stated by way of introduction. “Here’s how this will work. I’m going to stay here,” he said, grabbing a chair at the side of the greenhouse and taking a seat. “I’ll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine. When the time is over, I’ll walk away. Nice and simple.”

“So you’ll just let me do all the work?” You huffed, your fists clenched by your side.

“Glad you’re catching on, darling. Go on. Some would say it’s a privilege to be around me but it’s okay if you don’t see that yet.” He flashed you a shit eating grin and propped his legs up the table across him. Such a shame. He’d probably be handsome if his personality weren’t so rotten.

You caught yourself and your expression turned livid. “No, being around you is punishment. I don’t know what I did to Snape to deserve this,” you mumbled to yourself.

Your mum may have raised you to be polite, but she also taught you to stand up against bullies. You strode over to the arrogant boy, plucking a bearded iris on your way. You crushed it beneath your fingers, muttering an incantation.

When you were close enough, you hurled the crushed petals at his feet. Upon impact, sparks burst. Bright searing sprays of light was accompanied by a loud bang.

Mattheo dodged it, losing his balance. His chair tipped backwards. He crashed to the floor.

The bearded iris was otherwise called the firebreather iris. He should have known better than to challenge you.

You towered over him. “You will help me as Snape intended. It’s bad enough I have to spend time with you. You will make yourself useful or that,” you pointed at the ashes of the firebreather iris, “is just the beginning of what I can do. There are poisonous plants around here like nightshade. I will not hesitate to use them and make it look like an accident.”

He looked at you as if he saw you for the first time. The fire was brighter in your eyes than the spark you had thrown. He was silent for a beat as he recalled what Theo warned him about nice girls. You never wanted to see them mad. They were always more clever and therefore more dangerous.

As much as he loved danger, he very much preferred to stay alive. Besides, things just got more interesting. He schooled his face to a bored expression. “Fine,” he said standing back up and dusting the dirt from his clothes and hair. “If you teach me that cool trick, I’ll help out.”

“Stick around and I’ll teach you a few things,” you nodded, satisfied. You tossed him a pair of gloves. “We’ll start here, plant boy.” He suppressed the smile that threatened to break across his features. It was fascinating how you snapped quickly back to your good natured self, as if you weren’t just threatening him moments earlier. If there was anything Mattheo loved, it was a challenge.

As he put on the gloves, he felt detention wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Threatened by the poison and lured in by the idea of learning plant magic, Mattheo had surprisingly been a helpful herbology partner.

Yes, he was stubborn and annoying. But at the end of the day, he was quick to pick up the steps, memorizing which fertilizer to use for what plant, and how much water each plant needed.

The weeks quickly passed and you found a comfortable rhythm. You just had to put up with those terrible lines.

“Are you a flower bed?” Mattheo asked, his face streaked with dirt as he hauled another bag of soil.

“What is it this time?” You rolled your eyes. You found it impossibly adorable and ridiculous how he managed to get dirt all over his face despite wearing gloves and other gardening gear.

“Let’s pretend you asked me why. ‘Cause I want to lay you down and get dirty,” Mattheo said with his signature smirk.

You tried not to laugh, but you couldn’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Mattheo considered it a win. “That seriously works for you?” You pointed in his general direction. “I’d rather choke on a cactus,” you beamed.

Mattheo chuckled, “then I want to be a cactus.”

“Oh why, because you’re a prick?” You retorted, shoveling more soil to the new pot.

“No, you can’t use these lines against me,” he said, narrowing his eyes, grabbing a handful of soil.

“Don’t be such a weeping willow about it,” you quipped. “And I swear if you throw that lump of soil, you’ll have to clean it up.”

“Why don’t we go straight to the cleaning part?” He teased instead, returning the soil. He grabbed the water hose nearby and turned it on, aiming it directly at you.

Before you could react, you felt a steady stream of water hit you, the cold shocking your entire system. “You really did it,” you muttered uselessly, releasing a string of curses as you gathered your wits about you.

You ran after him, but he was quick to deflect, running off the opposite direction, taking the hose with him. Five steps in, you slipped on the mud and landed on your back. The wind rushed out your lungs and you laid there recovering your breath.

“Salazar! Are you ok?” He asked, running towards you.

“Come here,” you spoke softly and he leaned in to hear you.

“My name is not Salazar,” you declared when he was close enough. “It’s an expressio—“ he tried to explain but in one swift motion, you grabbed the collar of his shirt. The surprise was enough to send him down the floor. He slipped in the mud and joined you. You grabbed the hose from him and sprayed him with water.

He flailed for a few seconds before he caught purchase and rolled over you, yanking the hose away and then switching it off. You both found yourselves in hysterics, bodies shaking from the cold and laughter.

“I can’t believe it. You really laid me down and got me dirty,” you managed to say in between laughter.

“This is not what I meant. But if you want to know what I mean,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. But he was rendered speechless, the words and laughter faded in his throat.

He didn’t think it was possible. But up close, you were even more beautiful with your captivating eyes and kissable lips.

His intense gaze stole the laughter and breath from your lungs. You felt his heartbeat drum against yours, your breaths mingled with one another.

It sunk in then that he was on top of you, gazing at you like he wanted to do a hundred and one sinful things to you. He had a forest full of desires and you wanted to explore every corner of it. To go on an adventure with him. So you did.

You weren’t sure who started it, but the next second you found yourselves kissing each other. It was better than any euphoria plants could induce. His lips felt surprisingly soft and he started off tentative, seeing if you were okay with it. You just needed more and he quickly matched your pace, taking in as much of you as he could.

He was no longer gentle and he ran his hand through your mud streaked hair, holding you just where he needed you, deepening the kiss. You tugged on his hair in return and he rewarded you with a groan, his chest rumbling against you. He licked your lower lip, prompting you to open your mouth as his tongue darted in, exploring until you both needed to come up for air. Panting against each other.

“Why are you looking at me like I just kicked a puppy?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You’re just a boy trying to get through detention,” you stated.

“Darling, my detention was only a week long,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened. “But this is your third week helping me.”

“You still haven’t taught me how to make fire with flowers yet,” he said, kissing you on the nose.

“You’re not afraid I’d poison you?” You narrowed your eyes, recalling your threat.

“I looked it up. The nightshade you mentioned that first week isn’t even poisonous. You never meant to poison me, dear.”

“But you fell for it, that’s what mattered,” you insisted.

“Maybe it’s you I’ve pollen for,” he quipped.

“You’re never gonna stop with the plant puns, aren’t you?”

“No, because you’re ivy and you’ve fully crept in my thoughts. Next, you can creep in my—” you kissed him then to shut him up. He didn’t seem to mind at all. You really had had enough of his silly plant puns, even though you couldn’t get enough of him.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

#blurb-berry cupcake #emerald’s tea party #amongemeraldclouds follower celebration #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #amongemeraldcloudswrites #amongemeraldclouds fluff

2K notes · View notes

buzz-in-your-veins · 1 year ago

Text

Oops, did i do that?

Accidentally sending a spicy pic to your crush.

The reader is more fem dressed and has a vagina in this- if you want a part b where they don’t have outfits just let me know!

CW: Gender Neutral reader with a vagina and fem-like fashion, reader wears bras, no mention of having boobs.

Vox

Vox hadn’t known you for very long, you were one of the newer demons working for him. You’d applied for the job a few months ago.

In that time he’d seen you about four times, but he was honestly thinking of promoting you, you were amazing at your job, good with both the data and the customers, the only thing it seemed you couldn’t do, was look at your contacts.

You weren’t working tomorrow, so you’d gone out with your friends, you’d purposefully gone to one of the only clubs in the pride ring that wasn’t owned by a member of the V’s, in an effort not to run into your new boss.

You’d gone all out tonight, spurred on by your friends, see, you had a minor crush on the TV demon, not that you’d ever entertain it. However, your friends had picked your outfit tonight, and you ended up in a gorgeous (if a bit slutty) royal blue dress, sleeveless and short, with a glittery tulle overlay, and some beautiful electric red heels.

You were messing on with your friends in the bathroom, taking photos and just genuinely having fun, already beyond tipsy now. You were sending a photo of you and another friend in the mirror to your group chat, your friend had taken the time you were fixing your hair to add Vox onto the ‘send to’ people, you never noticed.

You also didn’t notice your phone go off when Vox opened it.

If only that was the worst part.

You finished the night absolutely trashed, your friends working together to walk one another home, most living near one another. You, of course, were the odd on out, and the odd number.

You assured your friends it was fine, you lived in VVV tower for Lucifers sake, you’d be fine! Your friends wouldn’t hear it.

One of your friends, less drunk, had messaged one of Velvettes models, whom she used to work with and asked for them to walk you back.

You got back safe and sound, still not having realised you’d sent Vox the bathroom photo, or seeing the demon’s expression as Velvettes model walked you in.

You weren’t quite tired enough to sleep when you were dropped back in your room, so you messed on on your phone for a bit, before undressing. You hadn’t got to taking your make up off or undoing your hair, you’d gotten your dress off, and just.. stopped.

You were in an ethereal lingerie set, clearly made with Vox in mind.

Pretty blue panties hugged your hips, red electric bolts providing straps, the lace comfortable against your pussy, your chest coved with a light blue bralette, lace spilling against your skin, and the most beautiful glitch effect chain snug around your belly.

You matched this with a black thin choker with a hanging blue electric bolt, and posed against your bed, taking a few photos, changing poses and taking more.

Your favourite was one where you were laid flat, the photo taken from above, you could see your entire body, including the heels you still hadn’t taken off, and you were stairing straight at the camera with your painted lips parted.

Satisfied you went to save your photo.

Never noticing you’d sent the same photo to your boss.

Afterall, you hadn’t know to take him off your list.

You were cuddled up asleep, still in the underwear, when Vox opened your photo.

You never noticed the power surge then go out, nor did you notice Vox’s name pop up on your phone.

Angel Dust

Angel had seen you around the hotel more than usual, Charlie said you’d recently quit your job to work for someone else, and it gave you more free time and flexibility.

Angel was happy for you, your boss had been a real price of work.

Still riding the high off getting a better job, you’d invited your friends out clubbing, having received a handsome final salary.

You had chosen to go to Hyper-Tech, one of Vox’s clubs, and one of the best. They had some off the greatest drinks, and, unbeknownst to you, that night they also had Angel Dust dancing.

You friends teased you relentlessly about your crush on the porn star already, and they played this off as purposeful on your part, even though you’d had no idea.

You had started the night feeling confident and pretty in your oulfit, but seeing the spider you felt a flash of self consciousness, after all, your outfit was styled on the spiders own colour theme, an off the shoulder soft pink velvet crop-top, above-knee white loose pleated skirt, and pastel pink heels with a hot pink belt and nail polish.

You friends quickly took care of that, telling you how wonderful you looked, that anyone would be lucky to see you.

And getting you drunk definitely helped, the endless stream of cocktails bought with your money, and eventually dipping into your friends supplies brought on a happy buzz.

They also greatly diminished your ability to think critically.

You never saw how Angel Dust watched you the entire time you were in the club, as you progressively got drunker, to the point Angel was shocked you could still stand, never mind walk.

Your friends however, saw how the renowned demon was watching you with concern and admiration.

They quickly concocted a plan without your input.

Angels set finished around 2 in the morning, he waited in his dressing room for you to leave.

You had planed to walk home with your friends before splitting off to the hotel, but one of your friends changed the plan, stating there was no need for you to walk them home, after all, didn’t you like live in the complete opposite direction? Another friend had ‘needed the bathroom’ and had walked right by Angels door, talking about how you were leaving with the third friend.

As you were arguing about the principle of walking your friends home, Angel Dust came out of club, and said he didn’t mind walking you home, you lived together anyway.

Your friends quickly agreed and left, not allowing you to argue.

The whole walk back you were showered with compliments about your outfit, your dancing, your hair, your ability to drink, everything.

Angel walked you all the way to your room before leaving you.

You started to undress, but decided you wanted a photo for this occasion.

In your underwear, a pretty pale pink push-up bra, and a silky white thong, still in the hot pink heels, you took a photo in the mirror, sat on your knees staring in the mirror.

For some reason, you decided to send that to yourself instead of just saving to camera roll.

Only, you never send it to yourself. After the walk home, Angel had messaged you to sleep well, meaning he was your top contact.

Never thinking to check, you simply threw on a pale pink baby doll, took your heels and make up off, and went to bed.

Alastor

Alastor showing up to help at the hotel had never been in your plan.

The radio demon was always an unobtainable shadow, someone you could safely crush on from your own mind, because he would never be in your reach.

Except..

Now he was.

Now not to be foolish, you had figured from his interactions and reactions that Alastor was most likely somewhere on the Ace or Aro spectrum, and you would never push anything onto him.

But you could never even get close enough to talk to him, never mind ask about the possibility of him being on the spectrum.

So you hid. Everytime Alastor was around, you weren’t.

Alastor was cooking? You weren’t hungry. Al was helping with the daily running? You had work. Alastor was in the library? You didn’t want to read anyways.

Alastor always noticed your absence.

Instead you poured over everything and anything about the radio demon.

When he appeared, what he did, where he could have been in the seven years, his rise to power, his ability’s, his domain, everything.

Your crush on the radio demon was a foolish one, but that didn’t stop you from having it.

From dreaming of picnics and ice cream dates, of long walks down the streets of hell, to him taking you apart with his words alone, voice wrapping around you.

And when he stopped those muggers?

You went weak.

So, yea, your crush was unobtainable, in the highest scene.

You could still dress up though.

And you did, frequently.

In pantsuits of dark crimson, to the bloody scarlet ball gown, for the party.

Alastors eyes never left you that night.

Mostly, it was under your clothes.

Pretty crimson baby dolls. Black lacy thongs. Scarlett bralettes. Everything. Your camera roll was full of photos of yourself in the underwear, posing this way and that, full of imagination and hopes you would never act on.

Oh how you’d positively die if anyone saw.

That didn’t stop you.

Right now you were dressed in a darling crimson corset, embroidered with darker lace, tied tight, paired with dark scarlet panties, pussy damp against the lace as you lost yourself slightly in a fantasy, black heels and a black necklace, you had posed side on to the camera, staring straight ahead, knees folded underneath you and head tilted slightly up, arms held behind your back.

You heard your shutter go off and stood, getting dressed in a black lace camisole, taking of the corset and heels before heading to bed.

Picking your phone up on the way, you saved the photo to your folder.

Surely, you should have expected naming your folder ‘Alastor<3’ to backfire, but..

Maybe this was a Freudian slip?

It’s not like you even noticed you’d sent it, and you were asleep by the time your phone when off.

Lucifer

You’d seen the King of Hell maybe twice, once in passing, and once when he came to the hotel.

It was more than enough for you to crush on the child-like King, falling in love with his attitude and personality, drawn further in by his looks and kindness.

By the time the charity ball came around, you were completely lost for him.

Lucifer showed up in a white suit, not too different from his normal attire, only more fancy, more Kingly, so to speak.

You had taken Angels advice and dressed to impress.

Angel Dust was the only one who knew about the feelings you had for the fallen angel, and he took every opportunity to tease you for it, but he was also your biggest supporter.

You and Angel had knows each other almost as long as you’d been in hell, so his help was soothing for you, and you smiled as the spider laced up the golden gown you’d picked.

It was a golden off-the-shoulder ball gown, with a soft cover of glittery tulle over the top, the skirt flaring out, reaching the floor, covered in rose embroidered embellishments, and paired with bloody red heels, and a glittering clutch.

Charlie had told you all to go all out, and you and Angel did not disappoint.

The two of you descended together, and you caught site of the King before quickly moving your eyes, your blush almost matching your clutch.

Charlie swanned around you, telling you how amazing you looked, and look at your hair!

Angel got you a flute of champagne before leaving you to find Husk.

Traitors.

You walked around the party, dancing with people here and there, doing your best to avoid looking at the King.

You never saw that his eyes never left your form, or how he glared at everyone who touched you.

The king had tried more than once to get close to you, if not to dance with you, to at least tell you how amazing you looked, but you always seemed to move at just the right time.

Charlie had been snapping photos of you the whole night, sending them to her dad, even she saw the two of you pining for one another.

Your flute was never empty, and unfortunately for you, Angel could always recognise when you were about to bolt, and he and Husk would step in to talk to you and prevent it.

Did you mention traitors?

By the time you were finally able to leave, you were definitely tipsy, clutching Angels arm as the two of you ascended the stairs, congratulating yourself on managing to avoid the King.

Angel saw the way Lucifer was watching you, but you didn’t.

By the time you were in your room and Angel had left after unlacimg your dress, ‘we went all blessed with long arms, A——y!’, you wanted a special photo.

So you got ready.

You kept your heels on and striped to your underwear, a strapless golden bra with a red bow in the center, trimmed in lace, and panties to match, also trimmed in lace. You kept the sparkly fishnets on too, and your makeup on, before finiding a pose you liked.

Finally settling on a pose wherein you were laid on your back, your knees up and tilted slightly to the side, one hand on your breast, the other just above your head, and your face tilted towards your phone, positioned slightly higher than you, and just above your head.

You smiled at the photo, and went to save it.

You never looked.

Lucifer had got your number of Charlie to tell you how nice you’d looked. Your response?

A photo.

You were asleep by the time Lucifers own response came in.

Husk

Husk hadn’t taken much notice of you at first, only that you seemed to come and go with Angel, Husk later learned you were Angels shadow so to speak, Valentino payed you prettily just to follow and protect the star.

Husk noticed you more as you came out more without Angel, not being needed as often when you were in the hotel.

You and the barcat had had some quite good conversations, and some even better discussions.

You knew your way around cards that was for sure, and the cat loved talking with you about card tricks.

Sure no one could match him in card tricks, but hearing you talk about them? Something just felt different.

Husk worried about you and Angel a lot, especially when you both came back late, Angel looking trashed, and you looking slightly high on those nights. It took Husk months to realise Valentino was drugging you both, more so Angel. On those nights, Husk would stay up late to make sure you and Angel ate and drank before going to bed.

Husk never brought it up, and Angel didn’t remember, so you never spoke about it. If the cat didn’t want to bring it up why should you?

Husk did notice his favourite snack appearing on the bar in the mornings however.

Your crush on the cat had started before you even began talking to him, but those conversations, the way he treated you, how he never made you seem unimportant, the way he looked after you and Angel after Val had been upset?

You were gone.

And the cat was your new home.

Not that you’d ever tell him of course, you would never risk ruining such a wonderful friendship like that.

Of course, there were also nights like these. When Val needed Angel for publicity, those were the best. You both got to dress up and basically just party, no forced drugs or alcohol, just fun.

You’d dressed in an orange one-shoulder skin-tight slip dress, with a split up-to your thigh, paired with glittery purple heels, a clutch and jewellery, with black card themed earrings.

Husk had seen you just before you got into Vox’s limo and dropped his bottle of cheap alcohol, sending Niffty into a cleaning/laughing fit.

You and Angel didn’t get back until 1 in the morning, both of you slightly buzzed, but pretty much sober, not having been forced to fed any drugs and having eaten at the gala.

Husk had tried to stay up.

You feel deeper when you realised the barcat was asleep at his post because he was waiting for you. Sending Angel to bed, you walked over to the barcat and gently shook him awake, telling him he could go to bed.

From here Husk noticed the earrings, and flushed, jolting backwards and falling.

You giggled a little before apologising for startling him, which he waved off.

He headed to bed and you got back to your room. Taking your dress off you caught sight of your self in the mirror.

Pretty orange panties with a tiny club embroidered in at the side, deep orange plunge bra with a spade on the left cup, purple bracelet, necklace, and shoes, pretty orange make-up, and a heart and diamond earring set.

You needed a photo.

Fussing around a bit you finally settled on a pose with you laying slightly over the end of the bed, head and chest tilted down, knees pulled up to the side, camera angled too capture everything, arms by your head, and full body on display.

You changed into some sleep clothes after the photos, and in your sleepy state sent them to Husk, instead of simply saving them.

You didn’t wake up until well after Husk responded.

Lute.

Lute had noticed you as soon as you’d joined Adam’s ranks.

Of course she had.

You were the prettiest exterminator Lute had had the pleasure of seeing.

She pestered Adam until he agreed Lute could have her own assistant.

That of course, was you.

Lute loved having you work with her.

Yes all your conversations were about work, and you treat her like your boss, not a colleague, but it wa a better than when you weren’t talking at all.

You were still reeling from the change in position so fast, and now having to deal with the angel you were crushing on at all hours of the day?

Your poor heart couldn’t deal.

You were a blushing mess under your mask every time Lute spoke to you, praising yourself every time you got through an answer without stumbling or stuttering on the words.

Your friends were relentless with the teasing, going as far as to create hand signals to tease you even on the training fields.

Regardless you excelled.

You had to be the best.

And so you were.

Lute often asks what fuels you, and you always stumbled through a bullshit answer, never remembering what you’d said before.

You never gave her the same answer.

You couldn’t exactly tell your now boss the reason you did so well was so she would notice you, could you?

Shadowing Lute meant shadowing Adam. He usually left you alone for the most part though.

It meant going to fancy angel party’s. With out your mask.

You forced your friends to help you get ready.

Gorgeous black knee length dress, clinched at the waist, with silvery heels, a silver necklace, a silver clutch, and purple earrings, your hair done all nice and make up to compliment the outfit.

Your friends told you you looked stunning, and when Lute saw you, she had to agree.

You spent the entire party following Lute around, you didn’t know any of the people here and you were anxious.

Lute kept your champagne topped up, eventually switching you to something a little harder when it became clear you wouldn’t settle on the sparkling liquid alone, not used to the alcohol you got drunk fast.

Adam allowed Lute to leave early, so she could take you home.

Lute got you in safely and even placed an aspirin and water on your bedside table, before leaving you, messaging your phone to let you know what’s happened.

Meanwhile, you’d striped down to a gray lacy bralette, with matching high waisted panties, pretty silver heels, make-up still on and earrings still in.

You wanted a photo.

You set your phone up, and posed, on you knees on your bed, heels just visible, leaned back slightly, one hand behind your bed in a stretch and one on the bed, eyes looking just beyond the camaraderie.

Happy with the results, you went to save the picture, instead, sending it to Lute, who opened it as soon as she got home.

Bye the time Lute replied, you were curled up ontop of your covers, heels still on, sleeping deeply.

Feedback is always appreciated <3

If you want more people added feel free to ask and I’ll do a part two!

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

~Vyrus

1K notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 10 months ago

Text

LOST IN STEREO

18+ / mdi

summary: after kicking you out of your own band to seek success with the band on his own, vernon finds his plans falling through, all the while you'd reached success on your own. now leading your own label, vernon finds himself having to earn your forgiveness, not realizing how badly he'd hurt you years back.

content: friends2enemies2lovers!vernon, band!au, drummer!vernon, guitarist!reader, unrequited crush (kinda), pining, vernon kicks you out of your band bc ur a girl (asshole, ik), really incorrect music industry terminology (i know nothing about music oops), afab reader, reader becomes a producer after being kicked from vernon's band, seokmin, chan, hannie and kwannie are in the band, smut, penetrative sex, dry humping, fingering, etc.

wc: 8.8k

a/n: i know the summary and content are all over the place, but i promise the story in itself is coherent</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Fuck! Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?"

He winced at the sudden sight of you upon turning a corner in the huge building he was currently exploring, never having expected to bump into you there.

"I work here, Vernon. I would've expected you to do some research on the labels you're auditioning for."

"W-wait. What do you mean you work here?"

"I'm a producer here. What? Surprised?"

"N-no!" he spluttered.

Fuck, you looked good. No, scratch that. You looked beautiful beyond belief.

How long had it been? Three? Four years?

He still felt horribly about it. You know, that whole situation in which he threw you under the bus for his own benefit – only for everything to come crashing down on him immediately after. Not only did he feel like an asshole, but also like a huge idiot. Letting go of a friendship just for a failed attempt at success would go down as the dumbest thing Vernon ever engaged in.

In his defense, he was a teenager at the time. Okay, maybe he was freshly 19, but it felt like the same thing back then. He had been an idiot who dumped his best friend and crush just for a chance in the music industry. What he had thought that to be the smartest move to make for the future of your shared band ended up becoming his greatest mistake. To this day, he still thought back on it with shame.

What sucked the most was how talented he knew you were. That, and the knowledge that he had been the sole person to blame for taking this opportunity away from you – from taking your own band away from you.

He quickly came to realize that it had been a horrible mistake, but it was too late by then. Contractually speaking, you had never really existed within the group. Your friendship had also crumbled soon after, despite your reassurance that all you wanted was the best for the band, even if that meant they'd continue on without you.

At the time, you had been the band's sole music producer, and song writer, and engineer, and you were the one who had a macbook with garage band on it, and–

"Vernon!"

Fuck. Had he been in his head this whole time?

You looked annoyed. Also way more grown and mature than when he last saw you at 19 years old. Fuck, did he mention you looked insanely hot?

"Sorry, I, uh, as I was saying," he cleared his throat, "Of course I'm not surprised. You're the most talented person I've ever known."

And Vernon truly meant his words. As teenagers, your dream to become a successful guitarist had been what inspired him to dust off his drums and go on this adventure with you, employing a few of your other friends to join your wannabe pop-punk band.

You weren't just a dreamer, like Vernon. Vernon knew you weren't just all talk. If anyone could walk the walk, it was you. With your innate ability with not only the guitar, but a myriad of other instruments, Vernon always admired you for your natural talent with music. The insane confidence you carried also did not help matters. It sure did not help the irrevocable crush he'd had on you since he met you. The air of security you always carried with you was something Vernon looked up to and was insanely attracted to. Sometimes it'd make it difficult to be around you without revealing his crush, as he would constantly swoon over your mere presence.

His feelings for you not only as a childhood friend, but also as his unrequited crush, only made the whole situation worse. At first, he dumbly thought that you understood why he had to ask you to leave the band, but it was obvious to him within only a few weeks that what his decision had done irreparable damage to your friendship.

Thinking back to it, he realized how stupid it was for him to even consider joining a label that denied your entrance simply due to your gender. Attempting to create the image the label had wanted to force on them should've been the first red flag. Taking Vernon aside to talk him into kicking you out should've been more than enough for Vernon to break out and whisk you away from a label that clearly didn't deserve you.

Sadly, Vernon had been too invested in making it big at the time. He truly would've given anything to find success as a musician as soon as possible – and apparently you should've taken those words literally.

It had been about a year since you first started the band at that point. Your very low budget garage band consisted of you, Vernon, and a few of your friends. Vernon was on drums, you on guitar, Hannie was bass, Kwan main vocals, Seokmin keyboard, and Chan second guitar. It was the perfect setup, if Vernon had anything to say about it.

The entire composition of the band had been yet another thing that formed all thanks to you. As much as Vernon insisted on saying it had been a shared effort, he now knew better. He needed to give credit where it was due. If it wasn't for you, Vernon never even would've met the guys he now considered his best friends, as you had been the one to take charge of recruiting more members into the group.

Despite that, you allowed Vernon to have the role of co-leader in the band with you. The way you had rationalized it was that you didn't believe in a monarchy; you much more wanted to have a democracy, so you believed that being co-leaders beat a singular leader by far.

This also demonstrated the intense trust you had on Vernon. Except Vernon's greedy mentality at the time did not respect this vision.

Surprisingly, even to his younger self, it didn't take much convincing for the recruiting manager of the label to convince Vernon into kicking you out. Just one signature from him, and all the male members of the group would be secure under a semi-established label that would guarantee them the exposure he'd been wanting, oh so badly, for the past year of being in the band. All he thought of was his future success, completely ignoring that his best friend would be left behind in the process. Simultaneously, he ignored the protests of his members, believing this to be for the greater good for the band.

In your usual supportive fashion, you were a trooper through it all. Your initial reaction was one of confusion and hurt, but it was quickly wiped away under the facade of being happy for your friends. If you couldn't find success with them, you were glad they'd be able to make it big without you.

Vernon made the mistake of believing these words, not realizing that he had just broken all your trust, and along with it your heart.

Then came the other end of the stick.

To no one's surprise, the record deal fell through. Kicking you out before agreeing to sign the group should've made alarms go off in Vernon's head on its own, but everything that came after was somehow worse.

The label had attempted to poke at every single detail about the band, trying to form them into something they could never see themselves becoming. Their looks changed, their sound changed, and fuck, Vernon just could not stop thinking about you throughout it all.

Before it all completely fell apart, they had been able to perform a few shows. Though they were nothing too big, they were far more than the small pubs in which you guys had performed before sighing the contract. Vernon was completely unable to enjoy any of this, though. The blank space on stage kept his mind uneasy. He constantly wondered about you and reminisced about your beginnings together.

This arrangement only lasted a few months. That was when everything truly went to hell. With lack of cooperation both from him and the rest of the guys, it wasn't too hard to get the label to drop them.

It just wasn't a match. Vernon would be the first to admit that greed got the best of him. Taking the very first signing offer that they got had been too naive of him, leading the band to be labeless and without a lead guitar and female vocal. And also leaving Vernon without a best friend.

A few years were spent attempting to break out once more, only achieving certain virality online through the first year of trying. It wasn't until recent times that Vernon and his band really blew up through some original work of Vernon's they had posted online. That's what actually led to Vernon's current position – touring one of the best labels for people in his genre after having established a solid fanbase online as an independent band.

Since Vernon had lost contact with you soon after kicking you out of the band, he eventually gave up on finding you (though memories of you would still haunt him). Not having kept up with your individual career, he never knew you actually made it out and into the big leagues on your own. You being a renown producer under an artistic name made sense to him, though. It explained why he had not heard of your name during all that time, and it also made sense with your past experience making music when you were in the band. Hell, you were the one who taught Vernon everything he knew about producing.

Despite being incredibly glad that his mistake hadn't made you lose your love for music, Vernon still felt disheartened at seeing you. In another life, the two of you would've made it here together, hand by hand and as the best friends you'd always been (hopefully even more by now). But now you were here, successful but at completely different rates, and with you feeling clear disdain towards Vernon's mere existence.

You simply scoffed at his compliment, rolling your eyes.

"I don't need your praise, Vernon."

Well, it seemed like he couldn't really win regardless. It also didn't help that he felt like a total loser standing in front of you, now aware that you had made a name for yourself.

He had heard your artistic name before, but since you apparently stuck to being a producer rather than be on stage, he never put a face to the name.

"I, uh, are you one of the producers we're auditioning for?"

"Yeah. Good luck with that, Vernon," you seemed far too pleased with yourself. There was venom in your eyes Vernon had never seen before in all those years he knew you.

"Listen, I-"

"Whatever you're going to say about our past, you can save it. Nothing you can say can make up for what happened. I won't get in your way during your meeting with the label. Only because I still love the rest of the guys," you softened a bit, before getting that serious look in your eye again, "But I also won't do you any favors."

Gulping, he responded, "Yeah, I, uh, okay. I understand."

Without any further comments, you bumped into his shoulder as you walked away, leaving a breathless Vernon behind.

He was well aware that you hated him, and with good reason too. Yet he couldn't help the rapid beating of his heart throughout every second of your interaction. With the passing of years, he had thought he was fully over his crush, but it all just came crashing down on him all at once upon your first meeting.

Now he really needed to get into this label. Not only for his career, but to somehow get you back.

"Dude! Did you see Y/N? She stopped by the studio earlier to say hi. Man, I told you you shouldn't have gone off on your own. I can't believe you missed her."

As much as Vernon wished Seokmin had been right about Vernon missing you altogether, he did wish your first encounter with him had been around other witnesses. Maybe that way your words to him would've had a little less venom in them.

"Nope. Bumped into her in the hallway while I was looking around."

"Shit ...", said Chan, "How was it?"

"Brutal. She hates my ass."

"Completely understandable, you know, considering," chimed in Seungkwan, sitting on the couch of the conference room's waiting room.

After a short tour of the building the label was homed in, the group was directed to wait in the waiting room as the execs arranged the paperwork necessary to sign them – should they come to an agreement. Vernon had made the dumb mistake of asking if he could explore the place a bit on his own, never having imagined he'd bump into you on the way. At least now he knew you'd be one of the higher ups waiting for him on the other side of that door.

"Dude, stop. I've been feeling like a dick ever since it happened", Vernon groaned into his hands, suddenly snapping up to look to his members, "Did you guys know she was working here? Did you know she was the Hissfit?"

"We didn't really keep contact," Seokmin shook his head.

"Yeah. I knew of Hissfit, but I never would've guessed it was her. Damn, that's kinda hot of her," said Jeonghan.

Jeonghan's comment peeved off Vernon a bit, but he had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

"Do you think she hates all of us, or is it just me-"

They all varied in their response, but the consensus was that Vernon was the only member you still saw with venom in your eyes.

"Yeah, man. It's just you," confirmed Chan, "I thought she'd hate me for taking over lead guitar after she left, but she was pretty nice to me just now."

Vernon was about to air out his endless concerns and frustrations at the stupid acts of his 19-year-old self, but had to close his mouth back up when the door to the conference room suddenly opened, revealing you and two other men close to your age.

"Come on in, guys," said one with shaggy hair and a strong build, gesturing at the boys to come in.

All five of them took a seat on one side of the gigantic table that took up most of the space in the room while you and the two men took a seat on the opposite side.

You looked so put together and professional, looking over the papers sitting in front of you while Vernon stared and stared, hoping you'd look his way.

"Okay, first of all, I wanna welcome you guys. I know one of our producers, Soonyoung, already gave you guys a quick tour of the place, but I wanted to give you a formal welcome," began the taller guy of the two, "My name is Seungcheol, but you probably know me as S.Coups."

"I'm Jihoon, but you must know me as Woozi," said the shaggy-haired man.

Then it was your turn.

"I'm Y/N. Also known as Hissfit."

Vernon winced when all his members woo'd at you, dapping you up with all confidence in the world despite not having kept in contact with you for the past few years. He wanted to join in, but you seemed too genuinely appreciative of it for him to want to dampen your mood by reminding you of his existence.

"We are the owners and cofounders of Universe Factory Records," added Jihoon.

"We're well aware you guys know our friend Y/N here," Seungcheol patted your back, rubbing it afterwards in a soothing manner, – completely unnecessary in Vernon's eyes, but okay – "but for business' sake, we will put a pin on that at the moment."

"We don't want any good or bad blood getting in the way of business, so we thought it'd be best to not discuss those matters here today," continued Jihoon, "All we care about is giving a passionate group such as your own and opportunity to join us. I can speak for all three of us when I say that you truly fit the core message of our label, and we'd love to sign you."

You nodded along to it all, even holding Vernon's eyes in yours for a few seconds before looking away.

"We'd love that, Woozi-Nim," intercepted Seokmin, bowing his head a bit at Jihoon.

"We just have a few contractual points to get to and then we can get to business, okay?", Seungcheol clapped his hands decisively.

A few moments later, your HR guys, Jun and Minghao came in to oversee the contract with the eight of you, making sure both parties understood everything written on the fine print. This took about thirty minutes, but ended very amicably.

"Is there a leader to the group who'd like to speak for any modifications you'd like to make to the contract?", asked Seungcheol just moments before the papers were about to be signed by everyone present.

"No, we're more of a democracy," said Vernon, not realizing the irony of his words fast enough.

You scoffed loudly at that, giving Vernon a sarcastic smile.

"Are you sure about that? Any other member who can confirm this fact?", you turned to the rest of the members in mock curiosity.

"Y/N, I-"

"Sorry, it's my bad. I shouldn't have asked," Seungcheol chuckled awkwardly, gesturing to the papers once more, "You can all sign whenever you're ready."

With some hesitation, Vernon signed.

He knew it was the right decision. That this way he would not only get to live his dream with his best friends while being housed under such a successful label, but that he'd also get another chance with you.

It'd just take a lot of work.

One of Vernon's favorite parts about the contract with Universe Factory was the luxury dorms that came along with it.

Being housed in a penthouse with all his friends seemed like one of the most unachievable dreams, yet here he was.

And the best part was that you owned a penthouse of your own right upstairs.

As far as he understood, this was a business owned building, housing any artists who wished to live at close proximity to the label's main headquarters. Vernon's group chose to agree to this form of housing without a second doubt, having always had the dream of living in the capital of the music industry – Los Angeles.

It had been about a month since the signing, and Vernon had caught sights of you far more times than he would've thought thus far. Unfortunately, none of them had gone well for him.

You seemed to be more than happy rekindling your friendship with the rest of the members, but always refused to spend any time with Vernon one-on-one. If at any moment you were left alone with Vernon, you'd scoff and walk out, even if Vernon attempted to call you out on it.

And Vernon's crush only got worse with the time he spent with you (albeit it always was while other people were around). Seeing you so relaxed in your loungewear when you'd spontaneously stop by the dorms to see Jeonghan or Chan (or literally anyone but him) as you laughed and joked around with them was messing with Vernon's head.

You were just so pretty and perfect and put together.

There came a point where Vernon was quite loud about his crush, constantly whining to his members about how much you still hated him. You were the only person to be unaware of it. Hell, even Jihoon and Seungcheol knew, always giving Vernon looks when he'd stare at you a little too long.

Except you never looked his way.

The only times you ever looked at Vernon were to curse him out or blatantly distance yourself from him whenever you got fed up of his presence.

Even now, as you huddled into a corner of the couch when the rest of the guys conveniently (re: at Vernon's request) left the two of you alone halfway through the movie you'd all been watching.

Attempting to be as casual as possible (he wasn't), Vernon slid from sitting on the arm of the couch to try and scoot closer to you, eyes glued to the TV in fear of you leaving if he dared look your way.

"Vernon-"

"Wait! Don't leave! Just stay sitting. I- I won't bother you, okay?," he was quick to apologize, sensing that you'd either scold him or tell him to fuck off.

You nodded, expressionless as you turned your bead back to the TV again, seemingly not too bothered by him.

It was rare for you to not use his exasperation as a reason to tell him off, so Vernon went against his own words and spoke again.

"Will we ever talk again?"

"What?"

He sighed, turning to you, "Will things ever go back to normal? I- Is there any chance you'll ever forgive me?"

"I don't wanna talk about this with you," you went to get up, only to be stopped by Vernon as he got up also, lightly grabbing your arm.

"Please. You have no idea how much I've regretted it since then. At least let me apologize," he pleaded with you.

"It doesn't matter if you regret it, Vernon. You still did it."

Wincing, he tried to come up with an answer that might satisfy you, but the truth was that there was no way for him to reason his actions at that time.

"I'll never not regret it. I .. I wish you were still out there with us, not just producing behind the scenes."

"Vernon-"

"Do you ... do you still play?"

"What?", you appeared annoyed at his interest.

"Do you still play? At any shows? For fun? You were always the best guitarist I'd known. Chan's nothing compared to you," he joked.

You looked down in what seemed to be shyness, "Chan's pretty good. He's gotten so much better since I last saw him."

"It wasn't the same- It's not the same. You were supposed to be there. I love Channie, but the dynamic completely changed when you left- when you-"

"When you kicked me out," you corrected.

He took a few steps towards you, both hands encompassing your arms in order to get you to look at him.

"I kicked you out, and it was the worst mistake I'd ever made. I lost my bandmate and I lost my best friend. I miss you every day. Every time I perform and I look to the front and you're not there, I remember what an idiot I was. You made this. You made the band, you got all the members. Fuck, you taught Channie everything you knew and all I did to repay you was throw you away," his eyes never left yours as he spoke, despite how guilty he felt at seeing the sudden sadness in yours, "Please tell me you at least still play. Please tell me I didn't take that away from you."

"I ... After you kicked me out, I couldn't trust anyone else. If my own best friend was willing to get rid of me like that ... If all my friends stood by and did nothing, then I couldn't trust that someone else wouldn't do it again."

"Y/n, I-"

You stepped away from his hold, creating some distance.

"I didn't want to play anymore, so I started selling my music. That's how I met Jihoon And Seungcheol. They were already on the process of founding Universe Factory. They saw something in me and took me in. We were equals," you explained, "So, no. I haven't played since then, Vernon. I'm a producer now."

It made Vernon miserable to know that the girl he once knew had changed. He understood why, specially having been part of the cause, but he felt even more regretful at knowing that he had damaged your ability to trust so badly. Ever since he knew you, you loved nothing more than to play for people. From talent shows to small shows at local pubs with only twenty people in the audience, you'd always happily sign up if it meant a chance to play for anyone willing to listen. Now you didn't have that in you anymore. All because Vernon had broken your trust.

Vernon chose not to bother you anymore after that. You seemed happy with your new life. Vernon seemed to be the only source of negativity in your life, so he chose to step aside and let you live your life. He would no longer try and see if there was any space for him there anymore. If that's what made you happy, then so be it.

It had taken a while, but after four months of being signed into Universe Factory, Vernon's band had finally released their new album.

The rollout consisted of 12 original songs, with a deluxe version including three extra songs coming a few months later. It hadn't been fully fleshed out yet, but the album itself had been a success by all means.

Throughout the process, Vernon had unfortunately not made much progress with you. Things seemed to be a bit more peaceful now that he had decided to leave you alone, but you never once tried to seek him out, so he assumed that this was the end of it. You were happy to ignore him and keep him out of your life, and as much as Vernon wad pained by it, he felt too remorseful by his previous actions to try and bother you anymore.

Vernon was happy to spend time with you whenever studio sessions came up. As one of the main producers of the company, you had been thoroughly involved in the album, which meant that you spent a grand majority of your time in the studio with Vernon and the rest of the band. Though you would rarely engage with him directly, you didn't outwardly ignore him. You remained professional and respectful towards him. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

After the grueling process of finishing up the album and releasing it, there was a small lull in the group's timeline. The album did amazingly well, specially with all the promo your label did for them. A tour had even been announced for later in the year, but for now things were quiet. The fruits of their labor were paying off and now everyone got a bit of time to rest before preparations for tour began.

Despite being done with work for a few weeks before getting to rehearsals for tour, Vernon still liked to come around the company and play around with the studios the label had available for their artists. He liked to mess around and try to experiment with new stuff to develop his skills. During the album-making period, he had observed you intently, learning from you without your knowledge.

Today was one of the many times in which Vernon had decided to come around the studios, in search of the one his group used throughout the process of making their album.

That was when he noticed the half-closed door, with the soft strumming of a guitar coming from the inside. He was about to turn around and leave, assuming that someone else had taken up that studio for a bit, but then he heard a melodious voice accompanying the guitar in perfect harmony. It was you.

Even during the recording process, Vernon was yet to hear you sing or play any music. The demos were usually recorded by Jihoon, even when you had vast participation in them. The most he had heard your voice during that time had been when you'd direct the members on how to enunciate a line or two – and even then, Vernon felt enamored. Now here Vernon was, peeking from the small opening of the door as he witnessed you sing what seemed to be an original song.

Your back was facing him as you sat on the floor, simply facing the wall in front of you. Your voice was low, as was your strumming. It was likely you didn't want anyone to hear you. Almost as if you were hiding your skill, not wanting anyone to be aware of it.

Vernon couldn't help but think that this was the consequence of his actions. Did you think you weren't made to perform anymore? Not even in private? Had his betrayal caused this in you? The thought made him sick, knowing how much you loved music.

His thoughts were promptly interrupted by a sudden halt in your playing, hearing your voice speak up.

"I know you're there, Vernon," you said without even needing to turn around to face him.

"I- How did you-"

You began to get up, putting your guitar away, "I heard the door squeak a bit, and you're the only person who would be interested enough in hearing me play to stay and watch."

He knew you hadn't meant it in a self-deprecating way, but the thought of you believing that there wasn't a crowd of people who'd die to hear you perform felt like a punch in the gut.

"You still sound amazing. You got even better, somehow."

"Vernon, stop. You don't have to-"

"Please. Let me at least compliment you. I mean it. You're amazing. It's a huge disservice to the world that you're not out there performing your own music," he chuckled humorlessly by the end, attempting to appeal to you somehow.

Surprisingly to him, you chuckled back in a similar manner, choosing to recline against one of the tables in the room rather than leave now that Vernon was speaking to you – something you'd usually do if you were ever in a room alone with him.

"I've never been much of a soloist. You know that."

Taking a leap, Vernon chose to lean against the table too, taking a seat close to you.

"I'm sure people would be lining up for a chance to work with you, c'mon."

"Not, you, though. Right?"

He groaned, throwing his head back in frustration, "Listen ..."

"I'm kidding, Vernon, relax."

That surprised him. Maybe the time had allowed you to feel comfortable enough to tease Vernon about it. Fuck. You were speaking to him. That in itself was more progress than he'd had in years.

Usually, he would've responded with a joke back, but he decided to drive his point home instead.

"I'd kill for you to even consider playing with me again."

Your mood visibly shifted at that, squirming a bit and looking down at his words.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

This time your sarcasm didn't deter him. He had an opening. You were talking to him, after months of only doing polite small talk with him whenever you were forced to. Maybe it was time he was a bit stern too.

Standing up, he stood directly in front of you, towering over you a bit more than usual since you were leaning against the table.

"Listen. I know I hurt you. I know I did the worst thing I could've done to the person I loved most, okay? I think about it every day. I thought about it every single day after you cut me out of your life – which you had every right to do," he winced at the thought, "Seeing you again, knowing you made it big and that you're still making music made me so glad. So glad that even though I wasn't ever going to be part of your journey anymore, you still had music by your side. I ... I wish I had done things differently. I wish I hadn't acted so stupidly and been so easy to convince to leave you behind just for a taste of success. I deserve every bit of your hate for it, but- fuck ... but I will always keep doing everything I can to see if maybe one day you might forgive me."

"Vernon, I-"

"Wait, I'm not done," he interrupted you with a finger in the air, "I tried looking for you, you know? After you disappeared, I tried to get you back somehow. When we got dropped from the label just a few months later, I tried to find you, but you were nowhere. I wanted you back from the moment I made that stupid decision. I'd do anything for you to be up there with us on that tour, for your name to be on that album cover. Somehow we ended up making music together again, just with all this baggage in between."

"Vernon."

"What? I- Honestly I don't know what you could say to all my word vomit. I already know you hate me. Nothing I do will ever change it," he looked down with a sad look on his face.

"I don't ... I don't hate you."

His head snapped up to look at you.

"You- What?"

"I don't hate you," you repeated, "I don't think I ever did. I never left music completely, I just ... I felt so disposable. I didn't want to work with anyone who wasn't you, and you saw me as a replaceable asset. I didn't even feel like your friend at that point. I mean, it was so easy for Chan to go from second guitar to lead and just completely erase my existence from the band ... Erase it from your life."

"N-no. You have it all wrong," he got closer to you, grabbing onto your shoulders to make you look at him, "Nothing was ever the same. That's why it all failed. I couldn't function without you."

"Hah," your eyes wandered away from his in an avoidant manner, "I would've killed to hear that from you back then."

You took a breath, appearing to ponder whether or not to say your next statement, ultimately deciding on the former.

"I used to like you so much back then. Did you know?," you laughed at yourself, "It was, uh, one of the reasons why I left. I felt like I got rejected in every way. As a friend, as a bandmate, as ... as the girl who liked you."

Fuck.

It had been worse for you than Vernon ever imagined.

The same way he felt dejected at your disappearance, having been practically in love with you at the time, you must've felt that pain a hundred times over. The guy you liked threw you away so easily, of course you were going to assume Vernon would never return your feelings under those circumstances.

But you had it all wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong.

If you had ever given Vernon any indication of you liking him, he would've dropped everything for you. He knew that he should've done so regardless, specially considering you were best friends, but he was extremely immature and dumb at the time. His mind did not reason what effect his actions would have. At the time, your claims about being okay with leaving the band as long as it was for the best of its future were completely taken at face value by Vernon. Never would he have guessed that you had just said that to appease to him just because you liked him.

His prolonged silence allowed you to speak up once again.

"I really did want to try and root for you after you signed that contract, but seeing the guy I was so head over heels for throw me aside so easily settled on my mind after a few days. I realized there was no point either way. We would never be bandmates again, and you would never like me back."

"I didn't- I ... I had no idea. Fuck," he breathed a heavy breath, furrowing his eyebrows, "I was so in love with you. I'm ... I'm so incredibly in love with you."

He knew he fucked up in saying it, specially going by the shocked expression on your face. Your eyes were wide and your mouth agape.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I know this isn't what you want to hear. I- I shouldn't have said anything, but I can't help myself anymore. I've loved you for years. I've been miserable thinking about how badly you hate me when you haven't left my mind for a single day. I love you. I'm sorry, I just ... I love you."

"Vernon ..."

He threw his hands up in frustration, "Don't. Fuck, I already know what you're going to say, just ... just don't-"

"Vernon, shut up!", you grabbed onto his head, making him lower himself down to you a bit and look into your eyes.

Vernon wasn't quite sure what your original plan was, but he saw you open and close your mouth a few times to speak, ultimately giving up to do something that would break Vernon's mind for the upcoming future.

Your lips against his own was something he thought of an embarrassing amount of times during his teens (and even now during his 20's), but it was always something he was certain would never happen. He had never actually planned for what he would do if you ever actually granted his wish. And so he remained limp against you for a few moments too long, making you pull away at the lack of reciprocation.

This was something he just couldn't have. In no world could he ever allow you to ever feel like he didn't want you. Never again. Before you could fully pull away, his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you to your tip toes so that he could kiss you properly. When your feet flattened on the ground, his lips chased after yours, leaning down to keep himself connected to you.

The kiss was soft and delicate. There were some breathy sighs that were making Vernon's head feel fuzzy, but the kiss was innocent otherwise.

Or at least that was how it started.

Vernon wasn't sure who licked their way into the other's mouth first, but that bit of information didn't matter too much. What mattered was that gorgeous moan you let out when his tongue suckled on yours. What mattered was the way you let your body become limp against his touch, letting him back you up against the table and sit you on it. What mattered were your hands pulling at his hair in sheer desperation for more.

You weren't the only culprit, though. Vernon was equally, if not more, desperate for you. His mind and his body were in a battle, with one wanting to pull away and discuss what your current feelings for him where, and the other fighting the urge to flip you around and bend you over the table.

Thankfully, you made the decision for him.

Your hands snuck under his shirt, delicate fingers gracing the skin of his stomach before allowing your hands to freely feel up his abs and chest. Shuddering, he became lightheaded at the simple contact, having been in such constant want for your touch all these years that even the simplest of contact had him losing his sanity. Unlike you, his hands were not as daring as yours in fear of scaring you away somehow. They remained rubbing your clothed waist and hips, far too shy to do what they really yearned to.

Images flashed in his head of every nasty thing he wanted to do to you. Every single night in which you'd somehow invade his mind with a fog of lust came running back, a myriad of ideas making it all the harder to hold back. He wanted you to have control. As hard as it was to just sit there and will his already prominent boner into staying still, Vernon could not act on any desire. You had to be the one to initiate it.

And thank fucking god you did.

Within some short moments, your hands threw off Vernon's shirt, pulling him closer to you as you became even more shameless in how you felt him up. Seeing his hands remain stagnant on your waist, you disconnected his lips, staring into his own with a blissed out look on your face.

Fuck.

You were already fucked up. Your eyes had nothing but lust in them. They had a hard time not making their way to his lips, which were still dangerously close to your own. He couldn't blame you. Despite being out of breath from kissing all this time, his own lips were already aching to encompass your own again.

Before he could kiss you again with a petulant whine, your hands guided his own to your clothed breasts, pressing them up against his palms with a delicious little whine that made Vernon press his cock against the table under you.

"Touch me? Feel me up? Fuck ... want your hands all over me," you breathed between sensual licks at his open mouth.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

How was he supposed to do this?

You sounded so pretty for him ... so horny and needy and just so fucking desperate for him.

You were the prettiest fucking thing he had ever seen – and you were begging for Vernon to feel you up? You were already begging and he hadn't even had the chance to actually touch you yet? Vernon had no idea how he was going to survive you, but he'd just have to will his body into doing so.

He didn't need any further instruction, his hands immediately following the task of rubbing and squeezing at every inch of skin. Every clothed curve was victim to his grabby hands, touching you and pressing you up against him like he'd die if he didn't. Your breathy little moans at his touch only made him feel like even more of a depraved animal.

You kissed and kissed and kissed. It was the nastiest mess of tongues and saliva, but Vernon couldn't help but feel extremely turned on by it. You were so ... so fucking desperate for him. Shameless in your actions, you licked and sucked at his tongue, holding his jaw in place so you could do as you pleased with his tongue. And when he couldn't match your pace due to how foggy his mind was? You stopped him, breathing against his lips that you'd show him how you liked to be kissed just before licking sensually into his mouth yet again.

Having been far too into the kiss, Vernon didn't even notice when you started undoing his belt, hands teasing his cock occasionally by gracing it through his pants and immediately coming back up when his hips tried to chase your touch.

"Baby ... Need you so bad," you moaned at him after a while.

'Baby'? He was 'baby' now?

Vernon couldn't even take a minute to process the lustful voice in which you had called him baby before his poor, weak, lust-ridden brain got distracted by you pulling your own shirt off.

It was almost comical the way in which Vernon froze at the sight. The two gorgeous mounds staring at him, pretty bralette encompassing them as you grabbed his hands and put them on your tits, begging him to touch you there. And Vernon wasn't an idiot. He touched you to his heart's contentment, groaning against your mouth every time you'd arch your back and press your chest up against his hands even more.

You were an entirely different version from the one he'd always known. You were so needy and soft and sensitive, completely unlike the stubborn and cold side of you you had shown him these past months. But Vernon wasn't about to complain when he had you so pliant for him, so whiny as you pleaded for him to touch you more.

His hands tugged and pinched at your nipples, lips swallowing every single cry of pleasure you let out. Your own hands scratched at his chest, with harsher marks being left behind every time he pinched at your tits relatively hard.

Growing easily frustrated, you separated his hands from your breasts, throwing off your bra before beginning to grind against him, encouraging him to push up his hips against your own.

Vernon was already painfully hard at just the privilege of feeling you up, so he was somewhat scared that he might end up cumming in his pants if you kept this up for so long. All it took was one single bump of your cunt against his cock for him to throw that concern aside and grind into your awaiting cunt as the two of you continued to kiss.

Breathless, he pulled away, finally getting to have a view of your nude breasts. That's when he lost control of himself.

He groaned and moaned and made every inhumane noise you could think of as he made love to your tits with his tongue. Never had he ever put so much dedication into anything as he did into making out with your tits. And fuck was it worth it. Your hips sped up against his own, hands burying in his hair as you pressed his head against your tit and cried his name in the prettiest of sighs.

There was no way in hell Vernon was going to last. He needed a saving grace.

Mustering all his willpower, Vernon disconnected himself from you completely, grabbing your hand and walking you over to the couch in the studio. On his way there, he kicked off his already loose pants and threw off his shoes. His original plan was to lay you down on it, crawl over you as he kissed every inch of your body and then worship his way into fucking you missionary, – so he could see and kiss you all throughout, just in the way he always imagined – but you stopped him in his tracks.

Pushing him onto the couch, you sat him down before shuffling your sweats off and straddling him, putting your hands on his shoulders.

"I wanna ride you. Can I?", you asked, getting straight to the point.

"You- you wanna .."

"I've been thinking about this since high school. And ... you kinda owe me, you know, after kicking me out of my own band," you joked.

"If letting you ride me is payback, then I take it back. I regret nothing," this granted him a frown and a slap on his chest, but he took it as a champ, enjoying the familiar banter he once shared with you.

Placing his large hands on your hips, he somehow got you even closer to him, "Ride me? Hmm, baby?", he kissed up your neck, taking advantage of the clear desire he knew you felt for him.

"I, ah ... Nonnie ... Please. Want your cock, it's so big," you sighed, neck tilting so he could have more space to kiss.

"Gotta prep you first, baby."

You shook your head, huffing, "'m already so wet, Nonnie. Wanna feel?"

With no warning, you snuck your hand under the tiny little excuse for panties you were wearing, gathering some tasty nectar for him to taste. He let out a gruttal groan at your taste, feeling lightheaded at the thought of someday having the privilege to eat your cunt until you begged and sobbed for him to stop.

But that would come some other day. Now, he needed to sit you down on his cock before he lost his mind. If you thought you were wet enough, and you were desperate enough to beg for him repeatedly, then who was he to deny you?

Helping you awkwardly remove your panties while he shoved his boxers down as much as he could while sitting, he helped you lift yourself up a bit to line him up, throwing his head back when you instead chose to drag his tip up and down your cunt.

"Baby ... If you don't sit on me, I'm going to fucking cum before I even get to feel you, and I don't wanna embarrass myself like that. So, please let me have it," he begged for a change, eyes squeezed shut as he attempted to make his body hold back as much as possible.

Taking pity on him (or likely just equally as horny), you finally sat down on him, showing very small signs of struggle at his size.

"F-fuck ... Nonnie, it's so big, it's so- Oh ... fuck."

"Nonnie! Feels so good ... Oh, it's so good, Nonnie."

"Baby, need more ... Need you to fuck me. Please? Cock's so fucking good."

"Want it in my mouth, Nonnie. It's so thick n so fucking big. Looks so, fuck, so delicious. Wanna choke on it so bad ..."

These were only some of the filthy expletives you cried out as you bounced on his cock like a depraved girl. You desire for him alone was enough to make Vernon want to give up and dedicate his body to your pleasure, knowing that your gorgeous body would always give him the same, if not more, pleasure in return.

It got so bad for him that at some point, he simply couldn't hold back anymore, his feet settling firmly on the ground before tightening his grip on your hips and beginning to bounce you up and down his cock while his hips canted up with inmensurable speed.

"Cunt's so tight, baby. Never letting you go again. 's all for me, right? Get to have you every day now," he mumbled against your chest, lips chasing your tits every now and then.

"Y-yes, Nonnie. All for you! Missed you so much, Nonnie. Thought of you every day," you hiccuped, back arching to give him better access to your tits, "I was so heartbroken over you ... Never letting you go now. You're mine. Right, Nonnie?"

He nodded and cried at your words, heartbroken just at the thought of your own heartbreak. He had to remind himself that none of that mattered anymore. Now he finally had you. The dam had finally broken and allowed the two of you to end your prolonged animosity and give you a chance to finally be his. Just how he had been yours all these years.

Your love making (if you could even call it that considering the animalistic nature of it) could only last so long before Vernon finally burst, which meant he had to take matters into his own hands and make sure you found your end with him. Reaching between you, his hand searched for your clit, finding it in only a few seconds. Disconnecting his head from your chest, he went back to kissing your neck, reaching your ear so he could talk you through your orgasm.

"Need you to cum for me, okay, baby? Love you so much ... Need to cum together, pretty, yeah?",

"L-love you! So much, Nonnie ... Never stopped."

Those were the last words you managed to let out before your orgasm took over you, whining the prettiest cries Vernon had ever heard. The tightening of your cunt finally allowed Vernon to let go, joining you in your high as neither of your hips halted their movements.

Holding you all throughout, Vernon had never felt as close to anyone else as he did to you in this moment. If you needed to hate him in order to protect yourself from his betrayal, then Vernon fully accepted it. No part of him blamed you for keeping him at an arm's length at all times. Specially if this was the final outcome. Now that he finally had you, he didn't care what journey he had to live through to get here. All he cared about was the gorgeous girl of his dreams crying in his arms as pleasure overtook her.

Your orgasms had been so incredibly intense that you needed some moments to catch your breaths before speaking up. That, and all the emotions that must've been going through your minds.

Holding each other despite the silence, you stayed like that for a few minutes, simply nuzzling against each other as a demonstration of love for one another. Vernon's mind still couldn't believe the reciprocation of your feelings. His heart was still beating far too loud under your touch, but he felt at ease.

"I really do love you," he spoke against your neck, "And I'll never stop regretting what I did to you."

You created a small distance between you to look at him, caressing his cheek in your hand as you spoke.

"I'll never be okay with what you did, but I love you. You were young, and you made a mistake. I can't stand hating you anymore."

He smiled, turning his head to kiss the palm you had against his cheek.

"You can hate me, as long as you love me too," he said. He knew it made no sense, but he also knew you understood.

"I love you," you said again with a smile.

"I love you."

to read short 2.3k word continuation you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, comfort sex, face riding, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 714 (teaser); 2379 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Isn't it unprofessional for you to ask an ex member to join the band again just cause you're sleeping together?", asked Chan as he tuned his guitar absentmindedly.

"For the last time, that's not why I'm asking her. I've wanted her back for years, you guys know this. I'm just rectifying a mistake."

You giggled from your seat on the couch, enjoying that the guys still gave Vernon a hard time for what he had done all those years back.

The news of your relationship had come as a surprise only to a few people. Most of your friends had seen it coming from miles. The sexual tension was just too high, or at least that's what Jeonghan had said when you first broke the news, Seungkwan nodding in agreement.

After that day in the studio, you and Vernon entered an annoyingly disgusting honeymoon phase. Unfortunately for everyone else, this phase seemed to be endless. Two months in, and you were still attached to the hip, unable to keep your hands or eyes away from each other.

Your newfound revelation of love for Vernon also brought back up old dynamics between the two of you. With his encouragement, you began occasionally playing with the guys, sometimes joining in as second guitar on stage, standing at the back, right next to Vernon and his drums. Your relationship was a point of conversation for fans, but you still kept it private among the people in the company.

Currently, Vernon had made the executive decision that he wanted you to officially be featured in a remixed version of one of their most successful songs from their debut album. The plan had already been there, but Vernon's suggestion of having you on the track rather than anyone else had surprised some people at the company, especially when they found out you agreed.

Vernon had been incredibly busy all week, leaving this as the first time he'd been able to see all of you together to briefly discuss the future plans for the track. His plan was to make a quick stop and then finally rest in your arms back at your apartment.

"Anyways, you should never forget that she was lead guitar before you ever were. We could always just send you to the back again," interrupted Seungkwan, giving Chan an unserious yet pointed look.

Chan raised his hands in defense, "Hey! I'm not the one who kicked her out!"

Groaning, Vernon walked over to you and buried his face in your neck, tired features clear in his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist, "Make them stop. Please."

Giggling again, you opted for a better option, taking the clearly tired boy by the hand and leaving the studio, bidding your goodbyes to the guys.

You had only stopped by to say hi to your friends while on your way to your apartment, knowing Vernon was tired from a long day of recording for various other activities he had recently embarked in as a new face in the industry. They were already aware you'd be recording a song with them, but simply enjoyed giving Vernon a hard time. Maybe even more than you did.

On the ride home, Vernon had fallen asleep, absentmindedly cuddling against you on the back of the car. Vernon had naturally taken on the role of the main face of the group, which also came with endless work and promotions he sometimes had to do solo, just like today. You were more fortunate in that area, making most of your money off royalties and not needing to make public appearances at any point.

When you finally arrived home, you continued dragging Vernon along with you, who would only groan occasionally at the thought of even stepping foot into the elevator. Making it all the way to your suite had taken a while due to the size of the building, but when you made it, Vernon immediately threw off his shirt and stripped down to his boxers, letting himself fall face first into the bed, groaning at the mattress cushioning his fall.

You stared for a few moments, thinking of what you could do to help your tired boyfriend relax after a tiresome week of work. Then the idea suddenly came to you.

...

find 2.3k word continuation on either kofi or patreon!

1K notes · View notes

a-hazbin-reader · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do an Alastor x fem!reader where Alastor confesses his love to her, but she doesn't believe him, thinking it's some kind of sick joke? She just laughs nervously, saying something like “yeah, yeah, I got it, very good joke, Al, your humor is getting better,” expecting that it will actually turn out to be some kind of prank

However, Alastor doesn't stop and tries to convey to her that he really loves her, but she still doesn't believe him because she doesn't trust him completely. Like, he's the radio demon, one of the most dangerous and powerful overlords who seemingly despised the idea of getting close to someone, what if he just wants to trick her so he can maybe make a deal with her or something?? That's why at first she tries to avoid him in order to get rid of this awkwardness due to his confessions, but gradually in the end she begins to meet him halfway and considers the idea of starting to date him after all. Not official yet, but the chances are great

WELP-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None?? I think??

Description: ☝️⬆️

You're used to expecting the worst-case scenario and protecting your heart first and foremost, it's just how you learned to survive

You've learned not to trust anyone, especially anybody down here in hell with you, everyone has an ulterior motive

Yet...by some weird twist of fate you found yourself a home at the hotel, Charlie somehow having convinced you to stay

Whether or not you believed in redemption, you couldn't deny that you didn't feel a sense of closeness with everyone there

Even Alastor was nice to hang around sometimes, though you didn't trust him in the slightest

How could you? The Radio Demon?? He's got plans for his plans and only sees people for their use, he doesn't care about anyone, especially not you

You're just amusing to him, which is fine, you can tolerate being amusing just not being used

You had a comfortable relationship with the overlord which was something that not many people could say

You two got along well enough, spent a good amount of time together and actually had decent conversations

He'a charming and handsome, a dangerous combination but you were far too addicted to his presence now to worry about it, you can still protect your heart

Or at least you did, until Alastor decided to toy with your feelings, how he found out about your budding crush was beyond you

You two were walking alone together at night, laughing at some couple you two had witnessed earlier, teasing them

"I just don't understand how any man could be that whipped for a woman! I can't wrap my head around it..!"

Instead of joining in your laughter, he hummed and looked over at you strangely before looking ahead

"Oh, I don't know... I find myself understanding men like that a little more these days."

It's like a bucket of ice water just fell on you, your laughter cutting off as you look at him in confusion

"What do you mean? Are you...seeing someone or something?"

He looks as uncomfortable as a man with a permanent smile can be, tapping his claws against his staff

"Heavens no, but that doesn't mean there isn't someone special in my life... someone I wouldn't mind courting."

He gives you a meaningful glance then looks away again, stopping suddenly and facing you

"Alastor-"

"I wouldn't mind being whipped for you."

Your stomach sours and you frown, pushing at his shoulder a little harder than you meant to

"Yeah, that's real funny, Alastor. Why don't you go try that joke on someone else next time?"

You walk off as quickly as you can, leaving a baffled looking Alastor in your dust

Do you have any idea how hard it was for him to confess!? He grits his teeth and rubs his hand over his face as he watches you run away from him

You don't talk to him the next day, or the day after that, in fact... Alastor is pretty sure you're avoiding him because any time he tries to talk to you-

You find an excuse to run off, your relationship with him awkward and nervously hanging on by a thread

He ruined it and all your walls came right back up

You should've known he would exploit your weakness like that, should've seen that he was only being so good to you because he wanted to use everything he learned against you

You don't know what he gets out of it or what his goal is, but you're sure he's got an angle

Even now, he's trying to mess with your feelings, bringing you flowers, pushing little notes under your door, one time he even tried to serenade you

He keeps trying to tell you that he cares about you, that he feels for you, that he wants you, and you just don't want to hear it

It hurts to be toyed with

Everyone else at the hotel can see what's happening between you two which makes everything that much more embarrassing

"Come on, Husk! I know you know something! Why is he targeting me!? What do I have that he wants?"

Husk looks visibly uncomfortable, looking over your body before looking away, suddenly interested in a smudge on a glass

"I don't know anything so quit asking me! Why don't you just sit down and talk with him, huh?"

Oh, he knows something

Angel smirks and nudges your leg with his own, invading your personal space to further tease you

"You're tellin' me that you ain't flattered by all this attention he's givin' you? I've seen the way he's been mooning over you lately, and let me tell you~ That shit ain't fake~"

You huff and shake your head, mostly to hide the blush on your face from them

"He has an angle, everyone always does."

"Look if you wanna be a blind bitch then be my guest but at least promise me you'll hit that and tell me the details~?"

"ANGEL!"

You can't avoid Alastor forever no matter how hard you try, eventually running into him late one night when everyone else is in bed

You should've known better than to get that late night snack, but you had skipped dinner earlier, and you were hungry

You're washing your plate off when you hear Alastor walk in, stiffening once you realize you have no real excuse to run away anymore

"Alastor-"

He sucks in a breath and stays still as if scared he'll chase you away, which he might actually be worried about due to your actions lately

"I know you think I confessed to you in order to get something from you but that's far from the truth. I do genuinely find myself attached to you."

You feel your lip wobble a little, hugging yourself as you look away from him

"Don't. Don't you dare mess with me like this or I'll never forgive you, Alastor."

He takes another step closer to you, cautious as if trying not to scare you away

"I'm being entirely honest with you, I've fallen for you in ways I can't even begin to understand or convey to you. These last few weeks have been torture for me."

He's gripping your arms gently to stop you from turning away, the simple touch spreading warmth throughout your body

You have missed him a lot...

"I'm not asking that you confess your love to me, I only want a chance to show you I'm being genuine with you..."

You glance up at him before taking a step back, blushing furiously at the pathetic puppy eyes he's giving you

You can't believe you're going to agree to this, he better not make you regret it later or you'll make him suffer for it

You sigh and point at him, doing your best to remain calm and not let your emotions show

"I'll think about it, okay? Just...give me time to think."

He visibly relaxes and sighs in relief, giving you a warm smile as if you had just said yes

"That's more than I could ask for, I'll wait hundreds of years for you if that's what you want."

You blush more and have to cover your mouth to stop an excited squeal from escaping your lips

"Q-quit flirting with me! I already said I'd think about it..!"

He chuckles softly and reaches out to rub your cheek before pulling away and turning to leave

"Okay okay~ I'll wait for you...~"

He leaves you there in the dark, blushing and fuming to yourself

Having a handsome overlord on your arm wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to you

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

1K notes · View notes

luvrrin · 10 days ago

Text

જ⁀➴ thinking about sharing an umbrella with itoshi rin.

⋮ ⌗ ; listening to mitski and thought of writing this drabble.

warnings

may be occ, not proofread cuz it’s just a drabble not rly, rin itoshi is so cutesy n shy. acts of service is his love language istg. subtle fluff. 1.4k wc

both you and rin were met with the dull sky and hammering sound patterns of the intense downpour after your group studying session.

the sun was ready to set at any time by the look of things.

everyone went their separate paths but as for you and rin, you guys were the last to gather your belongings.

you two were now stuck seeking shelter under the small roof that the university's library entrance offered as the rain glossed over the series of cement stairs.

the atmosphere between you and rin being a bit stiff due to the fact you guys never shared a moment outside of school purposes.

maybe if you were lucky, you'd receive a small glance from itoshi rin during long lectures. a glance that he thought would go unnoticed by you.

"just take it." rin's firm voice rung through the sounds of the downpour hitting the cement.

his hand that held onto the umbrella, reached out towards your own as if to force your hand in taking his umbrella.

his azure eyes raking over you, blinking ever so softly which emphasized his long bottom lashes.

though rin's expression was always indifferent, there was a subtle hint of sincerity. a sincerity that you’ve never seen before.

"but what about you?" you withdrew from his reaching hand, concern lacing your soft tone.

he scoffed, his eyes remaining fixated on your face.

his expression unreadable as ever, yet the way his azure gaze lingered on your features told a different story.

his eyes never failed to cause a dry lump in your throat as you returned his gaze.

you weren't sure if it was because he intimidated you or he was easily the most attractive man you've laid your eyes on.

intimidatingly attractive. you settled with that thought in your mind.

"i'm fine, you'll need it more than me." his voice low yet persistent.

his hand with the umbrella remained reached out ahead of you with a subtle frown settling on his features. it was evident that rin was equally, if not more, stubborn than you.

"itoshi, don't be ridiculous. it's your umbrella, i'm not gonna jus-"

rin's hand extended from his previous stance, grabbing onto your own as he firmly placed the umbrella into your hands.

his touch sending a wave of sensation as his hand lingered for a second too long. or so you thought.

you weren't sure if the close proximity that you both were introduced to was to blame or the mini crush that you always had for itoshi rin.

but the gentle brush of his fingers against yours caused a subtle hint of pink to dust over your skin. god, you’re so single.

"just use it." he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweater and striding out from the little shelter provided into the heavy rain.

what is his issue? you could see the hammering droplets engulfing his figure, his dark hair becoming damp by the second.

"itoshi, are you crazy?!" you yelled as his back faced you, ignoring your loud concern at his behavior.

the dull sky was getting darker as time went on and the heavy rain would not let up. why rin itoshi would think it’s a good idea to walk in this condition was beyond you.

without a second thought, you opened the umbrella mindlessly and swiftly followed the taller male like a lost puppy.

once you eventually caught up with his long strides, you extended your arm with the umbrella to accommodate with his height.

"i think sharing the umbrella would be a good idea instead of walking in the rain like an manic." you muttered through your teeth.

it came to your attention that the umbrella could not accommodate to both of you when standing a bit far from each other.

the heavy rain was slightly soaking your right arm as your left hand held up the small umbrella, hoping to give each other more coverage.

rin spared you a glance, noticing the way you were struggling badly attempting to hold the umbrella over his head.

he then sighs deeply at your own persistence. his chest heaving with slight annoyance. as if he was the only one who should be allowed to be a pain in the ass stubborn.

“here, let me hold it.”

his firm hands took the umbrella from yours in a gentle manner, an contrast to the indifferent expression plastered on his face.

"don't be stupid. come closer." he muttered, noticing the way your sleeve had gotten soaked.

he slightly walked closer, not giving you a second to do it on your own as your arms pressed against each others. as sad as it sounds, the contact sent a spark through your flesh.

almost as if he was eager but then again, who are you to try to read itoshi rin's behavior?

it was weird though. he didn't seem to mind, it was as if he purposely kept his arm still to maintain the little contact between each other.

for a moment, there was a comfortable silence that fell over the both of you. the only source of noise being the soft pattern of rain hitting the umbrella.

at times you would take a quick glance at rin on your side. his expression hardened as if he was in deep thought.

"something on your mind?" you asked, breaking the silent atmosphere. your head tilted slightly to the side as your body turned to face rin a bit.

"yeah." he muttered. rin didn't bother sparing you a glance, his gaze ahead.

"like what?"

"like how this creep is constantly staring at me." he said, his tone both dry and sarcastic.

his eyes met with yours with a deadpan expression lingering on his features.

"who- oh my god, shut up." you swatted his arm, genuine laughter escaping your lips.

who knew itoshi rin had a sense of humor?

"wait-" you started, remembering all of the times you noticed rin stealing glances of you in lectures.

"don't think you're slick in class acting like i don't see you looking at me all the time!" your finger poked against his chest firmly to empathize your words.

for once, rin's cat-like eyes widened as your scrutinized gaze met with his widened, doe eyes.

and there it was again, that silence overcoming the two of you as you two stared each other down. your pace slowing down a bit.

"i... i don't do that." he sharply spat, shying away from your eyes.

at his sudden change in demeanor, you could only confirm that you weren't being delusional all those times. there was a subtle tint of pink dusting over his ear as you continued to look up at him.

it was clear the itoshi rin was flustered.

the only words conversed after that was the location of his dorm building, luckily it was close to yours.

"here's my building." you pointed to the brick structure as you two approached the entrance.

after the moment you both shared, he was too quiet. although, rin was a man of few words, his silence was deafening.

standing ahead of the front entrance, you turned to face rin's towering figure. his eyes hard to read as he met yours.

"your dorm is close by, right?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"yeah." his answer short and dry, his analyzing gaze still on your features.

"oh is it the building over there?" you nodded off into the distance at the other building a couple feet away.

"yeah." again, his answer still short. his eyes had some of internal turmoil.

"well..." you started, "thank you for walking me home, itoshi."

you looked up to the umbrella, "and keeping me dry."

"rin." his tone low and strained. as if he was holding himself back from saying more.

"huh?"

"call me rin, from now on."

"oh.. okay. well, thank you again, rin." you offered a soft smile. there was slight twitch of his lips at the sound of his name escaping your lips.

"i'll.. see you tomorrow, yn." he nodded slightly before hesitantly departing from your company.

for a moment, you continued to watch him walk away in the opposite direction of the other dorm building. then it clicked, he lied. the only other building was across the campus. did that mean he only walked here for you?

if it couldn't get worse, your eyes traveled to the left sleeve of his sweater being absolutely drenched with rain.

rin itoshi was a selfless man.

ᯓ★ a/n: iloveriniloverin.

#blue lock #luvrrin #bllk rin #bllk x reader #bllk x you #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #bllk thoughts #rin x reader #bllk #blue lock rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n

149 notes · View notes

rastronomicals · 8 months ago

Video

youtube

2:05 PM EDT August 9, 2024:

Skeletonwitch - "Crushed Beyond Dust" From the album Breathing the Fire (October 13, 2009)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Thrash

#Skeletonwitch #Breathing the Fire #Crushed Beyond Dust

1 note · View note

punk-in-docs · 3 months ago

Text

A song of broken skin and fated lovers: part V

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 7.1k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V —

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! There’s some description of wounds and if you squint some dub con. Proceed daintily loves-

It seemed your dreams were the only place you could reliably escape too. The only plain you’d find any peace.

You picture the hill before your home. Every night away from home you dreamt you’d be walking up it. Feeling the dappled shade of olive trees curling above on your skin. Passing along your back in freckles. Dotted light, spots of shade interspersed.

Your soft skirt swishing around bare calves. The creak of your sandals meeting the dusty road. The one that kinks and bends and shows you that endless glimpse of searing ocean waiting just beyond. Aegean water. Sage fields. Boundless heavens.

You remember these fields. You played in them as a child. The ones that thrash with soft grasses. Ruffled by salty sea air. You can hear your sisters laughter brushing along to you like sweet blossom petals garnished on the wind. Sweet and calming. Crushed honeycomb and milk.

A sound as familiar and as comforting to you as their calls and voices that make the shape of your name.

Every night in your dreams you walk up this hill.

Every night you come home.

You can see them - your sisters - on the winding ribbon of the road ahead. Running out the front door of the house. Tullia with her dress flying behind her. Ever decorous eldest. Calling to Diana, with her hair falling in waves and telling her younger sister that ladies don’t run. Diana isn’t listening she’s too joyous. Too forthright to pay attention.

And Ceres. Sweet little Ceres sprints for your arms. Gap toothed grin. Clutching her cloth doll. Skirts held past her knees, she runs for you.

You can see mother in her dark plum linen stola. Gold jewellery on her neck and dangling from her ears. She lingers in the shade of the the hallway. Her dark wavy hair shot through with a fierce bolt of silver - lightning struck - at her temples. Radiant. As she watched from the door with a smile at their graceless display.

Her smile wide and brilliant, you always thought so, exactly as you remember it, as crows feet sit by her eyes. Emboldened and etched deep with her mirth. Hers is a face that has seen years of sun and sea spray. Made serene as placid waters by it. She is tanned and weathered elegantly by decades of watching sunshine bouncing like rows of diamonds off the sea. Salt and sea foam as hemmed in her blood as it is in yours.

You run to them - crying and wailing - feet slapping the dirt and dust, and you’re aching, legs burning, lungs aflame and you won’t stop. Calling their names til your throat is as dry as the dust below your feet.

Then the sun is too bright. It’s too far and you can’t see them. They can’t hear you. Swallowed from your grasp.

There’s just blinding light engulfing them just out of reach of your scraping fingertips. It’s like brushing grains of sand. It tumbles away before it grows into actuality. Your fingers brush empty air as your whole being lurches and mourns.

You jolt awake, body clammy and sheened in sweat. Eyes snapping open as you jerk upwards in the cover of fine smooth sheets. You feel your hair slip over your naked shoulders. Jewels and gold still around your neck. Sunshine blares harshly at your crusted eyes.

Aches and pains come swimming back to you in sharp degrees. Bruises on your neck and your hips. Fading to ugly yellow black already. Bite marks ring your collarbones and the meat of your shoulders.

Out the window you can hear a bustling city. The clamour of crowds. Hot sun baked dirt and filth. Bells peeling from temples. Servants scurrying in the courtyards below and beyond. Horses baying in the streets.

You smear sleep from your eyes, twisting over in the huge slab of a bed to see the sheets behind you are still filled.

Geta slumbers on golden pillows under the same sheets as you. On his back with bis face turned to the sun. Arm slung over his belly. The thin sheets stick to the climes and outlines of his body. His stomach. Thighs. Hips. The heavy bulge between his legs.

His expression seems almost gentle in his rest. Pillowy lips and dark lashes kissing onto his cheeks. Kohl still smeared on his eyes from yesterday. Naked same as you, save for golden decorations, jewelled rings…

A wedding ring. Matching bands. That’s the weight that comes crashing down on you so fiercely.

Acid bile claws it way up your throat when you shift your legs. Finding the edge of the bed with a breathy sigh. The stickiness between your legs and dried around your cunt doesn’t bear thinking about. You screw your eyes shut so as not to think about it.

Stirring silk. Rustles from behind you.

“Where do you think you’re going wife?” Comes a sleepy drawl across the pillows and sheets. Slithering across to you. Husky from his slumber.

You swallow and twist your head over your shoulder. Hair matted and twined close from sleep. Bite marks wedged deep in your back and neck throb as you move.

His eyes are lidded heavy but their burning gaze rests on you. Branding like a hot knife. White hot from the fire. You’re beginning to think that gaze of his always will.

“I’m not used to having my bed filled in the mornings. The kind of company I’m used to promptly leaves after the pleasuring is done.” He explains. Inflection of lust in his tone. He smirks with it. Wide and filthy.

Now he has a little plaything to trap into his bed whenever he feels like it. An ornament he can use and decorate his already gilded arm, and bring out to inspire envy in all peoples of Rome.

You pause where you sit on the bed. Caught.

“I wanted to fetch some water.” You grovel. Voice scraping raw. Throat feeling full of sharp rocks when you speak.

His eyes harden. Laychromose, but deepening with his anger. The way he slips into intimidation if he doesn’t immediately get what he wants. The way he snaps his fingers and has this world uncurl and offer itself up to his desires. That too must apply to you. Your role now was obedience in all things.

Bend and break and mould yourself for your husband, little nymph.

“You may… when your emperor is finished with you.” He plays and toys with your emotions at his whims. Eyes intently gazing at you. His words come with a bladed meaning.

“Come here-“ He orders. Voice softer but the command cuts straight to your spine. Arrowhead sharp. Studs deep.

You curl back into the bed. Back stiff. Trying not to wince at the cuts which burn and tear at your skin. You feel the pull and tug of barely closed wounds. His teeth had drawn blood. You feel the congealing wound at your back shift. The scab lifting. A bead of blood rolls over down your shoulder blade.

He notices. Shifts on his side behind you. Curls a hand to the hill of your hip. Catches that drip of blood with his lips. Savours it. Sea foam flavour of you bedded on his tongue.

The warm stinging path of his tongue on your back takes your mind back to what happened in these sheets hours previous.

How he’d pushed your thighs, widened your legs, opened the bowl of your pelvis and drunk from you. Showed you the various ways a man can please his lover with tongue, lips and hungry teeth.

He’d done it til you shivered and begged. Tried to writhe away. He meanly tugged you back where you belonged, bullied you, recaptured in the cradle of his hands, and did it again. Smirked when you asked for clemency.

“I warned you I was without mercy, Salacia.” He’d leered. His smirking lips and sharp teeth shining with you as he smeared his warm nose against your thigh. Slaked in the taste of you from chin to cheek. Makeup running under his Umbrian eyes. Panting like a beast to your skin and because of the scent he finds synonymous with you. Lemons and salt.

He hovers behind you now. Hands sliding for your waist. Chin on your shoulder. Breath tainted copper. Pressing his lips to bruises and tender spots. You were right. He had to achieve to sting of pain in order to feel something.

He dips his mouth to your neck again. Lapping and nursing a new bruise near an already painful one. Layering pain on pain.

His hand slips lower for your thigh. Warm stones in each of his fingers foreign and hard as he slips his hand between the soft of your legs again.

He’d moaned when you’d grabbed his hair or left nail marks in his large arms and shoulders. He liked that he could draw an emotion out of you. Even if it was overstimulation or desire. He’ll match and meet you in either. As he so wishes.

He’s pleased to find you tacky with the remnants of him from the previous evening. “A fine fruitful offering for your beautiful cunt my wife.” He purrs. Fingers delving deeper to your sex. Rings nearly an unwelcome sensation. “In time mayhaps the gods will bless us.”

Hallowed Saint. Hallowed fate. Bestowed by the gods, he says.

You’d say it was more akin to downfall. Curses and ill fate. Tantalus and his fruit. Medusa and her coiled snakes. Actaeons fateful stag.

He noses onto your jawbone. Fascinated by the scent of you still. Smothered all over these sheets. It grew stronger the longer he was near you. In his sleep it smothered his mind, his every second. Lemons, salt, and you-

He loses himself, mouthing to your neck and into the wild nest of your hair. He inhaled you. Drank the essence of you like a starving peasant. Hungry greedy hands.

“What is about that scent of yours that drives me wild? What is it?” He seeks. Almost angry in his demands.

“Lemon oil. For my hair.” You explain weakly as he plucks and grabs at you.

Descending into lustful madness. He catches the ripe berry of your clit with his rings and it makes you gasp. Bucking back to his chest. He likes that. When a little of your feral reaction to his touch makes you buck and lose your usually placid control. The man is taunting the seas and welcoming in a storm.

“Use it. Always.” He ordered huskily, Huffing as your hair sticks to his lips. Melding with the salt of ocean that he now understands beats through your skin and veins.

He would order ten thousand lemon trees to be bought here just for your use.So he can kiss your shoulders and your skin and always find it brimming with the bright note of that yellow fruit.

A small surrendering of your body as you arch back to him. Having pleased him brings something forth in you: something that eases. His pleasure allows you to relax the stiffness of your spine. Lower your guard.

He tugs your hair out the path of his lips. Delights in the evidence he found of his teeth all over your neck. His claim was skin deep. And he soon hoped it would be even deeper.

You are tugged back to the bed so his hands can wander all over you again. Your back curled to his chest as he lays you on your side. His hand sliding for your thigh to widen you open for him. Behind your hips you feel the hard length of him. He guides himself to you and your breath gets punched out of you as he pushes inside.

He pushes your leg open further to move to you deeper. He delights in finding evidence of your restless wedding night squelching deep inside your cunt. Throws his head back and groans with it.

He moulds his body to yours. Tacky skin. Warm cotton sheets kicked down the bed. Ringed metal and sharp jewels on every finger gripping the fat of your leg tight until he’s sure he’d left marks. Holding you open so he can plunge inside.

Your hand finds his where he crushed one breast in a grip so tight it makes tears spring to your eyes. Melding with the pleasure you cannot deny coming forth as he moves his hips to you so fiercely, your skin smacks where you meet.

Despite the sting of pain from being so overused, to way his fingers reach down to knowingly pinch and caress your clit where you’re spread open around him, makes wordless cries come out your throat. You clutch into the sheets and grit your teeth. His breath muggy hot against your neck. His hair a mess. Golden and fiery. Like stomped down wheat stalks at sunset. A lazy Bacchusian god.

“Let your husband hear you.” He encourages. Your moans and sweet as rare wine. Inbetween sucking and biting your neck. Asking for your sounds of ecstasy like he deserves them. A holy offering that praises him and washes away all sin.

“I don’t think you are goddess of the sea my love. With a cunt this sweet and tight? I think you must be a fertility goddess instead.” He proposes into your ear through harsh chuffs for breath.

“So tight. So fucking Intoxicating” he huffs. Cupping your tits and still moving to you as harshly and deep as he’s able.

He makes sure your breath cannot come as you steal his. A warm sweaty palm on your chin twists your head back to his. He anoints your lips with a messy kiss that echoes with the ghost of last nights wine and the tang of salt from between your legs. His tongue licks over your teeth. He drags every part of you up for devouring.

A commotion over by the door takes your mortified eyes over.

You see Aeliana and some of her maids coming in. When they see you both naked in the bed with Geta thrusting into you like a madman, you watch her eyes blow wide with shame. Head bowing. Arms laden with todays gown for you to wear. She halts the girls by her side.

Geta doesn’t even spare them a look. They are below his divine notice. He manages to lever his mouth off yours for a mere few seconds, to bark his orders and send them scurrying.

“Get out.” He shrieks. Voice ringing through you with the harshness of the sudden shout.

You twist your head into the sweat slicked pillow. Ashamed that they’d even just glimpsed you being used so.

His spit drying on your chin. His hand possessively cupping your cunt again as he fucked you so deeply, something tender within your pelvis had you nearly wailing.

His mouth goes to your neck again. His pace growing faster and faster. Sloppier. Noises of your sex only increasing. His hold on you is so intense it’s an ache. His fingers trailing through your curls and your folds to find that spot that will surrender you entirely to him.

He rears up behind you. Skin glued with heat to yours. He grabs you close as if you’ll fade under his fingertips like smoke. Hips hammering as he reached his pleasure. Yours came snapping down on him not long after.

That telltale tip and then the surge of ecstasy that broke through you. Cunt snapping down right around his cock as you came in shudders. Pulsing through you as his spend burst deep into you. Exactly where he wanted it. Wave after wave of pleasure. You let it take you. Little else you could do. Your strength to fight had turned stone cold.

You laid against him in cooling sheets. Listening to his chasing breath behind you. Feeling the wet and heat between your legs twofold. His sweat drips onto your back. Smeared as he laps at your neck. Fresh bruises and teeth indents are more raw than before.

You can barely notice. You’re more taken with the way your pussy squishes as he pulls free. The hot rush of his spend.

Hot breath comes over your ear again. You shudder and you’re not entirely sure it’s of pleasure. His lips kiss to your jaw and cheek. All this sweat and sex soaked skin. and still he finds lemons in your taste when he kisses you.

“Shall I have the maid fetch you water?” He seeks.

“I shall do it.” You shrink down with sex flushed cheeks. Pushing away from the bed with a wince. Hair draping down your back as you take a smooth sheet from the bed with you. Padding to the side. Hips swaying under the cotton. Your pelvis and thighs feel tender and aching - low and bone deep like sun burn - as you move to the amphora and goblets you’d used last night.

He sits on his elbows to watch you. Uncovered, cock laying soft against his thigh. His thighs and groin sticky-wet with evidence of your joining. Unabashed as to his naked state.

His eyes are hungry and you certainly give him a feast to watch. Clad in sunshine from the great maw of the window. Skin littered with violent red and purple marks in odes to his ownership of you. The smeared blood from bites at your back that he’d licked away.

You stand at the side. Laying your hands flat to the table where the jug stood. You found you didn’t reach for it right away. You looked at the very unfamiliar sight of the wedding band in your finger. The gold surrounded by the two dog heads fighting over the sapphire. A helpless jewel caught in between rabid teeth. How fitting.

Your shaking hands pour clear water into a cup and you drink it all quickly. The taste of metal and sleep fading from your tongue.

Bare feet padding the floor come behind you. The rustle of a fine robe. The red and gold one. He’s barely bothered to tie it closed around his chest.

“I must go and ready for the day. Loathe as I am to depart your blissful company.” He says. His hand slipping round the back of your neck. Bringing you in. Tasting the new wetness on your tongue as he kisses you. You muffle a moan to his lips as he possesses you in a kiss again. Squeak a little as he pulls away.

You don’t know what else there is to say.

Enjoy your gilded cage, little nymph. It’s all you’ll know from now on.

“Wear jewels and something pretty. I’ll come find you later. Wife.” He promises with a salacious smirk. Eyes you up and down like he wants to tear that sheet off and bend you over the lectus here and now. Smack the fat of your ass and claim you again.

A dark smile aimed your way. A thumb on your chin to bring you in for one more lippy kiss. And he’s off - stalking toward the doors. A lascivious look shot your way as he turns away.

You say nothing. You feel nothing. Nothing except for empty hollow rage that shakes through you. Pounds at the bony trap your ribs. Enough for you to shiver even in the warm morning air.

You feel scraped through. Brittle like fraying rope. He’s taken you from your home. Exiled your father. Forced shame upon your family. Killed your brother. Pushed his twisted lust upon you, and now expects you to react as if it’s dressed up in love.

You floated into his life like a midsummer’s night breeze. And he found you breathtaking, enchanting. Now he had you he wanted to cup you close. Seal you to his skin with his nose buried in the crown of your head whilst crowing mine mine mine.

He was in two minds of what to do with you. Cherish you, love you, pour crimson rose petals before your steps. On the other hand, he only knew violence when it came to love and to lust. He wanted to break you apart piece-by-piece like dry clay. Tear at you like those tigers in the coliseum and see what’s left.

He’s never known what to do with his things when it comes to love. Maybe he didn’t even know it at all. Only knew how to demand and take. Never to please or to give. He’s never had too.

And now he expects mightily. For you to sit pretty and wear jewels, rings, gold, and fine stolas. Support his every shrieked command. You must learn to sew your mouth shut and keep your opinions tamed back behind that same silent closure of thread.

An Empresses role was silence. How your soul quakes with that new pain.

The huge doors rattle again. The exit of the Emperor meant the maids were safe to come tend you.

Aeliana walks towards you. You raise your eyes to hers. Wet and wide. Tears on the quivering brink of your lashes.

She is unable to hide the noticeable switch of shock in her expression, when she sees the wounds you’d been saddled with. Teeth marks and bruises. Like you’re a slab of meat and not a cherished spouse.

She cannot fathom how you have more cuts for her to soothe balm on after your wedding night.

“Let’s get you to the baths, Empress.” She soothes. Opens her arm. Encouraged you to follow. She tries a bolstering smile but you both know it’s fragile. Her husky voice is the only kind thing you fear you’ll ever hear in this rotten place.

You nod. Swallow. Stand tall and let her manoeuvre you.

You can allow some tears to slip free when you’re in the water. Then you must banish your feelings. The maids must strap finery and silks onto your body again and truss you up in this farce. You steel every last splitting nerve whilst you can. Tamp them down. Gather the ragged ends up and soothe them. Clutch tight.

Naked, you wade down the steps and sink under the surface of the huge bath.

You’re tempted to not come up for air again. The water lulling you in its cradling warmth like an old familiar companion. As if a siren that you let drag you down. Plunge headlong into waves and succumb.

Unlike Odysseus, you don’t have the strength to fight its pull.

The bite on your shoulder turns the water clouded and rusty.

One salient thought gives you solace as the world around you grows numbs to your ears.

Atleast he drank deeply from the lies you’d fed.

Many sun and moons had set since your wedding night. Time marches its onward parade in the beautifully rotten imperial palace.

Geta and Caracalla were summoned to a Imperial Consul with the senators. To discuss the matters of their particular wish to expand the Roman empire to Persia and India. And possibly beyond that. They held Rome and all her starving subjects in a gold fisted vice. Refused to relent like a bratty child clutching a beloved toy. One that they would rather break to splinters in their grasp than see it enjoyed by someone else.

That was not the way of the gods, after all. It was their damn birthright.

They both slouch in their sloping marble carved chairs, in front of the rows of Senators, as the magistrate drones through the Verba fecit. Then they would read the protocols to address problems within the city.

Geta is not attempting to look amused or even mildly interested.

He slurps at a golden goblet of dark wine. A scowl like rolling thunder on his face. Dark eyes smouldering at any old senator who dares contest his gaze. Garbed in gold with rings on every finger. His black and gold silken robes folded in his lap, spilling to the ground.

Caracalla appears more interested in feeding grapes to Dondus. His manic grin shining. Gold tooth glittering in the half dim as he laughs. His creatures chirps and shrieks accompany the low drone of the voices rolling around the great marble room. Bounding off the pillars and echoing back.

Geta ground his jaw tight as he flickered a look to the side and caught sight of the very thing that had begun to vex him from the second he stepped into these chambers. Set far back behind him. Amongst the senators seats.

Your cushioned lectus remained vacant.

He grips his wine goblet too tight. fingers strangling the stem. His attention was brought back to the room as Senator Thraex cleared his throat. Summoning back his attention.

“… I would also like to wish you joy on your recent union. Caesar…. You have bestowed a fine and fair Empress onto Rome and her peoples…”

Geta narrows his eyes at the man. Coaxing out the rest sharply. Or else.

“Yet I cannot help but notice It has been four moons now since the Empress graced us with her presence here at counsel…. I do wonder if all is well. As Rome does deserve the full compliments of its masters here to guide us.”

Geta ground his teeth around an answer. The room throbs in the heady silence as he glares. Punctuated only by the monkeys chitters and the shuffling of Senators gazing at each other in arch amusement as to the meaning of the levied comment.

“The Empress is occupied elsewhere at present. I should hope you are not suggesting me and my brother are lacking in our duties in any way. Senator.” He replies curtly. Eyes thunder heavy and dragging over the dry old man. Umbrian danger.

“Of course not. Sire.” Thraex replied. Seeming unimpressed with the answer. “If you’ll permit me I should like to discuss the issue within the city of what is to be done of taxes within the Porta Capena quarter…”

Geta sunk into his cup again as the Senators droned on. His mood plunged below foul. Jaw tight. He turned to look at the lectus again. Venom in his blood at your absence.

When counsel finished. He stormed from his seat without another word. Robes sweeping the ground as he raced from the room. Sandals meeting the floor like slaps. Rage evident in his stride. He summons the nearest Praetoria. Who promptly comes to his side.

“Where is the Empress?” He snarls. A snake in coil about to strike. Bad enough he had to suffer the thinly veiled barbs of Senators asking why you were absent. Even worse was that you made him look a fool without even being here. They were casting foul allusions as to your marriage.

The guard hesitates before giving an answer. “She has left the Palace, Caesar.” He answers.

Geta’s anger comes sharp and packed in poison. A hiss. He asks so curtly it echoes to the ceiling. “And precisely where has she gone?”

At first, the noise and bustle of Rome was repugnant to you. Rancid and dirt and heat. Too much noise and not enough air.

Made putrid by stale sweat en masse bodies, horse manure, and smoke from fires mingling with roasting meat or oily charred fish from street vendors.

There was always shouting, someone selling wine, someone selling exotic wares, and bartering filling the air. Music bleeding from some side alley. Jugglers and slight of hands weaving through the crowds of servants and nobles and peasants, ready to part people from their coin.

You watch and just listen to it all from where you’re seated. A palla folded around your head and neck to block the otherwise fierce sun, also to obscure your features, give you shade wherein to hide your golden jewellery and rich dress.

Though you doubt anyone in this riotous city knows or even cares who you are. To a glance? You are just another rich merchants wife. Or noble woman. Unseen. Unremarkable. You do admire Rome for that small mercy atleast. To make you invisible in a crowd of thousands.

You’re seated at the edge of the fountain. The marble lip cold under your dress. Your hand dangling down into the clean waters. Trailing your fingertips through the cool of it. Water shimmers off the blue stones and pearls of your rings. If you squint, they are treasures cast on the shore. You can imagine you see specs of sand. Golden shells. Milky pearls waiting to be picked - tucked cosily in cream oyster shells.

You try to pretend. You fail.

Your personal praetorian guard lingers not far away. Varro. A perpetual huge shadow to you since your wedding.

Geta told you the morning after that you were to have him watch over you at all times. The man has been hulking after your every footstep since. It’s cloying, but nowhere as much as that palace is.

Varro boasts a huge figure and not one to be easily missed in a crowd. A warriors build. A scowl that could curdle milk. He’s solid. Brawny thick chest, stocky as a barrel, thighs thick as tree trunks, large arms and immense shoulders even without his plates of armour.

He had a proud chiselled face, dark hazel eyes and a prominent nose that had been broken before. Evidence of a pinking scar bumping at the bridge of it. Also a small nick dissecting his lower lip. His life had known pain. You can tell. Typical soldiers life. A body cut from the cloth of war. From polishing armour, baying for unease, and stepping to commands.

It’s hewn in the way he carries himself in crowds. Darting eyes and not feeling at ease, or any kind of sane, unless he can see all four clear corners around himself - and you. And convinced danger lurks behind every brick corner and down every side street. Huge hand permanently slung over the pommel of his sword. A warning.

He stands a little way across from you now. Looming proud as an old oak in the shade of a building and a market stall slung with rich cloth for sale. Shirking the sun and scowling at everyone. Basalt black hair falls like long thorns over, down his brow. Down the nape of his neck and collar, beaded in sweat.

Children scarper around him. Street urchins that clamour like flies on rot at his appearance. He gives no inch and tells them to move along with a curt nod. Steel stiff spine standing to attention. A merchant tries to sell him a cup of wine - red or white - they are silenced by his frown. He won’t touch a drop whilst on duty. Truth be told, You don’t think he knows how to be off duty. He’s not capable.

He’s an austere reminder of your station. Almost literally, in his dark black plate armour and wisteria purple cape swinging from his wide shoulders. A storm cloud eternally perched on the horizon of your day. His words come few and far between. You don’t think you’ve heard him string two full sentences together once. Except possibly in daggered warning;

You draw too much attention. Empress. It is bound to invite trouble.

You wanted to scoff at that irony.

You? In your hooded palla, draw attention?

When it is he, the man who guards you - like a grizzled dog - who is a thick immovable column of uniform widely recognised as imperial praetoria, wherever you turn in these streets? Unfathomable.

I am going to temple to pray. You may either escort me. Or explain to my husband why I have gone into the capital, alone.

His answer was a gruff glare. Acceptance and frustration entwined.

You have caused him to furrow his dark brows at you several times with a “Yes, Empress.” That came dragged through a displeased drone. A hound showing you his teeth before the jaws snap. Having to escort you into the city each day was laying contrary to his regulations to not have you in harms way.

You insisted. He obeyed. With little choice in the matter.

Every day you came here. One corner of the beating, shouting heart of Rome. You went to the Temple of Vesta and you prayed. And you went to a public fountain and let real life ebb in upon you once again. To find some peace away from the rabid emperors, who blaze at the palace with all the ferocity of fiery twin suns. They encompass all. Left little room for anything else. All life revolved around them. You float off in distant orbit.

You wave your fingers through the cool water. Tethered to one small piece of home again. Cool tides that brought you comfort. Reminded you of the sun soaked shores of home. Sunlight fracturing in diamonds off clear blue waters.

Feeling the sun beat down now on your neck through layers of cloth. You cast your eyes over the monuments to Neptune sat in this ornamental fountain. Sea gods and goddesses and creatures of sea foam. The other side where you are, women are washing clothes, or chatting over baskets fetched from market. You can smell perfumed oils, dried flower petals, and the sweet plump of ripe fruits tucked safe in the shade of their baskets.

How wild it is that until four weeks ago, that too had been your life. You didn’t sleep on silken sheets, get trussed in gold, and have servants poised so you never had to even lift a finger.

You knew comforts - of course. You had fine clothes and didn’t have to toil the fields. But you weren’t beyond spinning cloth or running errands. Helping clean and tidy your home. Fetching food or helping prepare meals. Coming home from market in the small town with oiled fish, scorpion fish, or boar, fresh chestnuts or olives. Dried meats sometimes too.

You thought of the olive trees lining the road to town. Huge and ancient. Offering branches that white doves often sat in - cooing away their calls. You thought of buying chestnuts for Ceres because she adored them so. Goats cheese for your mother that she liked with honey. Bunches and bunches of aniseed to make into Canistrelli biscuits for father.

The happy creak of your basket on your arm. Feeling the sun tangle in your hair as you shaded your eyes, felt the sea kissed breeze caress along your arms and back as if an embrace of a lover.

All those things you’d lost in one fell swoop. A life that had been snatched from you without your even getting a chance to bid it goodbye. Just like your brother. Your father.

And here you were now. Hiding away in the crowds. So lonely you felt its sting like the deepest shrapnel. A wound never closing. Always being prodded some more by the dire aspects of your circumstances. Anything to not be trapped in your gilded cage. Being reminded daily that your one use in that foul place, lay solely between your legs.

Two small girls come stumbling to an ungraceful stop, laughing, breathless and slowing from a run. They come right to your side to fill some amphorae with water. Dunking the clay jug into the clear water and letting it fill.

They each have dark hair and dark eyes. One must be close to Ceres’ age of six, toddling, milk teeth smile, youthful weight clinging to her cheeks, the other slightly older. Longer hair and a fuller smile. They have flowers pinched from a stall stuffed in their rusty coloured linen apron pockets. Some bay laurels and cornflowers.

You smile warmly at them. They smile back, unabashed. Joy seeping out of them. That brand of innocent fearlessness that grasps the young.

Turning your head you hear the clank of armour, feet shifting fast on dirt. Varro steps towards you with his scowl and his hand already on his sword.

You reprimand him silently. Gaze packed in ice. Jaw set. Mouth flicking to a grim line. You calmly hold up your hand and motion for him to step back. He’d scare the poor things.

You feel a gentle tug on your dress where it splays at your shoulders. Turning back, you see the younger one has her small hand on your dress.

You gently return your hand to your side. Seeing what she wanted your attention for. They both looked at Varro with much wide eyed curiosity. Only very rich ladies could afford a soldier. Only those of very high status. You fear he’s just betrayed your standing.

“Pardon me…” She utters. Her unsure voice carefully picking over the words. As if she was still learning larger words and their uses.

“Yes?” You smile. Touched by her boldness. Treating her with gentility.

“Are you the Empress?” She seeks. Forming words slowly. A curious tilt of her head.

You see no reason to lie.

You can feel Varros eyes burning a glare into your back. Harsher. More furious than the sun. Don’t.

“I am.” You respond.

They smile as if excited. Sharing a look. Both each producing a small laurel sprig from their stuffed pockets. They each step forwards and present the small branches out to you. A gift. You lay your hand flat and accept them both. Curling your fingers around branch stems.

“Gods blessings be upon you, Empress.” They speak in clunky unison.

You take the branches with reverence. Feeling the smooth leaves. The verdant and subtle scent coming from them.

“Pray tell me. What are your names?” You enquire.

The eldest speaks first. “Amata, Empress.”

The youngest follows suit. “Junia, Empress.” She tells you proudly.

You reach for your purse. Stowed safely within your dress folds away from the hands of beggars. You pluck out two coins and place them in their small hands. Junias hand reminds you if a small pudgy starfish. Curling round a silver shell.

“Blessings be upon you both. Amata. Junia. For your kindness…” You beam to them both.

They shimmer with mirth. Taking their jugs and scampering away through the crowds like nymphs.

Varro appears at your shoulder like an omen. “Empress.” He says your name lowly. Chiding you with his tone alone for revealing yourself to them.

“Surely two little girls holding flowers in their pockets, pose no danger to me.” You reply archly. Watching across the crowds where they’d disappeared.

“I only seek to resupply you of my one duty.”

“I don’t need reminding.” You tell him. Not unkindly. But he can hear the way you might be tempted to let the words be sharpened to little blades off your back teeth.

He’ll say this for you; you don’t have sharp teeth or poisonous tongue like every other noble in that palace. You are made different to their spoilt ways. Something sleeker and softer. All foam whipped off waves. You can sting and lash if required - you simply choose not too.

You hear bells toll for midday from the temple beyond. Clanging off the golden stone of every building around you. You fancy you can see the ripple of the sound sending waves to burst across the fountains surface.

Varro is giving you that stern look that urges you to be heading back. Before you’re started to be noticed. Before you become a perfidious gap in your Emperors day, when he isn’t vying for blood, gold or war. That or applying himself ruthlessly to the detriment of this great city, crushing his own people in the same way his favourite wine is made. Squeezing every drop til dry.

You hate to return. But you fear what wrath will come if you don’t. The thought of slipping away into these crowds and dipping into another form of life mocks you. Cowardice curbs your actions.

With some of the meagre coin in your pocket, you could try and make for the coast, possibly. You could disguise yourself as a merchants wife, or a servant. Anything to slip the golden net you’ve been landed in.

You wonder how far you’d make it, running away like a common ruffian, before the stomping hooves of a Roman battalion would be on your heels. Snatching you back here to be humiliated at Geta’s own insistence. The punishment he’d dole on you doesn’t bear thinking about. You were property after all.

You watch men and women weave in and out of the crowds, wishing you had half their luck as to put your back to this palace and peel away. Your mind wanders over that idea. A faint ember that dies to a curling puff of smoke. Snuffed out.

It doesn’t bear thinking about-

You take your offered laurel branches and stand. Varro takes up his guard. Eyes flicking all around. Searching for those corners he requires. For that split second of danger he can cleave his sword onto treasonous limbs for your protection.

You make your way back through crowds. Varro cutting a swathe for you. You keep your head down and remain quiet. Mind vacant as you move through the paved streets.

A flash of a body pushing past you takes your attention down a side alley. One arched with fabric awnings thrown over merchants stalls.

The flash of white turned out to be a senators robe. The vivid plum purple bordering white. You bat away the bitter thought of once recognising it as your fathers noble robes.

You catch sight of three people, stood on a street corner. One of them you don’t recognise but you know him to be a Senator. The two people he’s stood conversing with does make you stop in your tracks.

General Acacious and Lady Lucilla.

They are conversing deeply. Attention not given to you where you stand on the other side of the street. Shade cloaks them all. A moment out the sun. A place they hope guards them in obscurity. Talking with each other in hushed tones. Marcus and Lucilla wear hoods so as to hide their fine features from any obvious recognition.

The crowd trickles on around you. Water carving on around a large rock in the way.

Lady Lucilla raises her eyes. They flash to you in an instant. Dazzling green. A sun dappled meadow holding you in sight.

Her face falls as she halts her words. Lips parting. The General and the Senator both turn to follow her gaze. Finding you, caught static, at the other end of it. You recognise a prickle of panic when you see it.

You turn your head. Eyes snapping away as you hold your skirts and continue on.

Your guard says nothing. Though you know he saw what you just did. It’s not his place. He forgets all he sees or hears - all that doesn’t pose risk to you.

Maybe you weren’t the only person in Rome to wish the Palace walls didn’t have treasonous eyes and ears. You can’t help but wonder if perhaps Varro was right;

There is danger round these street corners in Rome.

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

#punkwrites #joseph quinn #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #gladiator #gladiator 2 #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta x oc #ancient rome #newlyweds #newlyweds who despise each other #smutty #morning after smut

264 notes · View notes

starsofang · 10 months ago

Text

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / FINAL

previous part

tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of suicide, heavy angst, please be cautious as always! <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

The weight on your shoulders was heavy and exhausting. It caused your body and soul to ache with a crushing feeling of grief. Your conversation with Price played in your mind tenfold, repeating over and over until it drove you to the point of insanity. You feared if you stayed stuck in the loop for a moment longer, your brain might short circuit and you’d succumb to life’s torturous game.

How had things come to this?

Two weeks ago, you should’ve been dead. Two weeks ago, you should’ve denied Ghost’s abrupt deal, you should’ve told him the truth – that you had no intentions of living past that very Friday the two of you planned meticulously to end your life.

Two weeks ago, you should’ve never met Simon.

What was meant to be a task given to you with the purpose of self healing had erupted into an even scarier nightmare. Life would’ve never been so complicated had you denied Simon and stuck to your original plan on desired death. It would’ve never been so complicated had you just done it all yourself instead of pussying out and asking him to finish the job for you.

Now, all that remained was a heart beyond repair, fragments of its shattered pieces being taken away with Simon when he had left.

He had the entirety of your heart, and you didn’t think you’d ever get it back. You couldn’t take it back if you wanted to. It belonged to him, and your heart was loyal to its owner.

All that was left was the, what now? Price had made it clear he couldn’t promise anything. Hell, you wouldn’t blame him if he had just said that in a half-assed attempt of comfort. For all you knew, Simon hadn’t a clue what was going on in the first place, or perhaps he didn’t care. Living without closure of what could’ve been had left you scarred and untrusting, even of the very man you’d fallen in love with.

Love was what always got you into this mess, after all. You couldn’t love yourself, so God was executing punishment by making you unlovable to everyone else. If anything, you should be thanking him for steering you away from more heartache.

Maybe this was how it was meant to be. Simon giving you a taste of what life could be if you had just tried harder, before pulling the candy right out of your mouth before you could protest that you weren’t quite finished with it.

You didn’t reach out to Simon. Even though you were blocked from the moment the two of you had sex and he ran, you didn’t dare try and test out your theory to see if he had undone his action. You weren’t even sure you knew what you could say to him.

While it was clear Price played a dirty hand in creating the drift between the two of you, Simon still allowed himself to be a puppet on Price’s string. It boiled you to the core, filled you with resentful distaste that you couldn’t quite swallow.

It was hard to accept that you hated him almost as much as you loved him.

No matter how angry you were at the world for the hand it was dealing you, you still couldn’t bring yourself to leave it. Not on your own. Even through the hole of emptiness that rattled you to the bone, a spark of hope shone from deep within you, and that was what kept you going. It was the faintest of light, fighting to stay ablaze. No matter how puny and weak it was, it was still there, cheering you on in a gentle voice to keep going.

As much as you didn’t want to listen, you did.

Life’s a bitch and then you die. But maybe if you gave it one final chance at redemption, things may work out in your favor this time. And if they didn’t? The original plan was always in the cards.

Simon left Price in the dust the moment he uttered those words. Go and get your bird back, Simon.

He had never heard something so beautiful, so breathtaking. It was his call back home, and he’d be an absolute tool if he didn’t rush to return to its welcoming arms.

He didn’t care how ridiculous he looked running along the streets in the middle of the night. Hell, he didn’t even bother to put his mask on. Tonight, he was Simon, and he was wearing his identity with pride. Ghost was tucked away in the darkest depths of his mind, caged in and hidden. With you, he didn’t want to be Ghost. He didn’t want to be a man who thrived off of the stolen lives of the innocent in order to pay his bills. He didn’t want to be the broken version of himself that imprisoned his own vulnerability.

He wanted to be the man who could give you a colorful life filled with painted sunsets and warm rays. Only Simon could do that, and he’d throw Ghost away if that was what it took.

The closer Simon got to your apartment, the more the nerves wracked his body with a faint tremor. Would you even speak to him? Forgive him? He knew he didn’t deserve it. Hell, he deserved a cold fist to the jaw and a stab wound to the heart.

The least he could do was try.

He pondered if he should get you something. Flowers, maybe, but when it came down to it, flowers were a pathetic excuse for an apology. No, Simon wanted to do this right. He had spent his entire life partaking in wrongdoings. For once, just once, he wanted to be good.

The sight of your building nearly had him throwing up on the concrete beneath his boots. It turned his stomach in a sickeningly sweet way, coating his tongue with bitter cottonmouth. For the first time since he could remember, Simon was scared. Downright terrified.

While the feeling should be seen in a negative light, he saw it as the complete opposite. It meant he was alive. He was still human. He still harbored emotions that Ghost had so desperately tried to get rid of.

Even after everything, he was still Simon.

His feet grew heavier and heavier with every step he took into your building, up the raggedy stairs, and down the dim hall, just like the routine he had always fallen into when waiting for you to return from work. Things may be different now, and he may be venturing on the same path with a different ending this time, but that didn’t mean he was led astray. Different could mean better, and he could only pray to the very God putting him through hell that his outcome would be brighter than before.

Simon didn’t know how long he stood outside of your door. He willed himself to knock, but he was struggling internally. The truth was, he was scared to see you. Seeing you meant facing the result of his regretful actions, and he wasn’t sure he could handle recognizing you as broken because of him.

He dug this grave, he wallowed in it, and now it was time to crawl his way out and make things right.

His fist shook as he raised it to knock on the door. Knuckles collided with the old wood, echoing sharply in his ears. Anxiety crept into his bones, leaving him in an uncomfortable suffocation. He felt as if he wouldn’t be able to breathe until you were in front of him. The room felt small, it was closing in on him. He wondered if this was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve just left you alone, maybe he should’ve kept you out of his mess–

“Simon?”

The air that was tightening in his lungs exhaled in a slow, trembling breath, shoulders going slack from their tightly wound stiffness. Your voice was his oxygen, and he could finally breathe again.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, and God, did it feel jubilating to say that name again.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, and the bitterness in your tone was clear. It sunk into him like a thousand knives, coursing him with relentless pain.

“I need to fix this,” he gasped out. “Please, sweetheart, let me fix this. I know I fucked up, alright? I fucked up bad.”

You stared at him in disdain, but Simon could see the glimmer of a burning ache in your eyes that matched his own. You missed him just as much as he missed you, but your hurt overruled everything else. He didn’t blame you one bit.

“You left me after you had sex with me, Simon,” you spat with dripping fire that scorched him with every word. “You left me after everything. You expect me to just let you come here and tell me you fucked up, as if I didn’t know that?”

Simon could feel his resolve slipping away. He wanted to panic, to spit out useless apologies until one of them worked and you caved, but that wasn’t how this was going to go. Simon would have to work for it, and he’d be damned if he let you slip away. He’d spend the rest of his life working for it if it meant having you in the end.

“Sweetheart–”

“Fucking– I’m not doing this in my doorway. Just… just come inside,” you sighed out, utterly defeated. You didn’t have to tell Simon twice. He stepped into your apartment cautiously, letting you know that you were in complete control. You were in charge, and Simon was here to take the beatdown, no matter how painful it may be.

Upon entering, your apartment was in havoc. It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t disgusting or revolting, but it was clear you spent most of your days cooped up in your room. Simon felt guilt eat away at him from the mere sight alone.

“Tell me how I can fix this,” Simon pleaded. Everything about his body language was desperate, distressed. His hands spoke for him, moving animatedly, unable to control himself. He was begging. For the first time in his life, he was begging.

“I’m not telling you how to fix anything, Simon. You’re the one supposed to fix it on your own. I’m not going to do it for you,” you explained in eerie calmness, but it was unmistakingly exhaustion. He couldn’t imagine how much he had put you through.

He knew you were right. This was Simon’s responsibility, and begging you for the cure would be easy on him and harder for you. He couldn’t allow that to happen. You’d already been burdened enough.

Simon stared at you, eyes glossed over, eyebrows pulled together from his stir of emotions. The way you stared back was empty, and it broke his heart that he was the reason for the light going out so soon after gaining it back.

He contemplated what to do. There were many ways this could go sideways, and he couldn’t risk that. He had to pick what was right in his heart, even if it meant shoving away the pride he’d grown accustomed to over the years of being alone and hollow.

Simon slowly got down on his knees, hands clasped in his lap, and he gazed up at you in woe. He was baring himself to you completely, stripping himself of all defenses, and succumbing to vulnerability. Never had Simon gotten on his knees for another person. His ego was too large, and he refused to let himself express weakness.

For you, he’d hang himself dry.

“What are you–”

“Please, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice soft yet broken, brimming with anguish. “I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. Nothin’ I say will make it better. I can’t change it, no matter how much I wish I could. I fucked up, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness for leavin’ you the way I did, for hurtin’ you like everybody else has done. I gave you an empty promise, and even then, I broke it.”

You were speechless from where you stood, peering down at this burly man on his knees for you. Your eyes never strayed away from his, and you recognized the familiar spark of despair in them. They looked just like yours every time you looked in the reflection. He was a mirror of you, just as you were a mirror of him.

“I was scared of losin’ you because of my job. I didn’t think a sweet thing like you deserved to be involved with a man like me. I didn’t want you hurt,” he explained, and the faintest crack in his voice showed you just how hard this was for him as well. You weren’t the only one suffering the consequences.

“Yet you hurt me anyway,” you whispered brokenly, and Simon deflated.

“I know,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I know, sweetheart. I let my fear control me, and it caused me to make things worse. It wasn’t fair t’you. I fucked up, and I’m so sorry.”

Your own resolve was faltering. You wanted so badly to be angry, to kick him out and be done with him. Strip him from your life and return to your days of wallowing in loneliness and misery.

You couldn’t. Every word was like a small bandaid over a too-big wound, but it was an attempt. He was trying. Nobody had ever tried with you before.

“Y’know,” you began, voice as soft as a whisper. “One of your boys came by to see me. Price.”

Simon blinked, surprise morphing on to his face. He swallowed anxiously, fists squeezing in his lap before he forced them to relax.

“And?”

You stared at him for a moment, shifting through your words in your mind.

“He tried to get me to cut you off. Tell you that I was better off, that I didn’t want you around anymore. He thought it would be best,” you finished quietly, shifting your eyes away from him in a moment of guilt. You weren’t sure why you were feeling it, but you’d recognize that uncomfortable lump in your throat anywhere. “I told him no.”

Simon’s eyebrows raised, eyes darting over your face to read your expression. “You did?”

“Yeah,” you confessed, shifting uncomfortably. “Told him… told him you didn’t deserve that.”

His heart ached painfully in his chest. What a lovely woman you were, defending him even after he had wronged you. How stupid he was for letting his own past misfortunes creep into the present.

He should be mad at Price for invading in on his personal business, but if he didn’t, Simon might not be here right now, kneeling before you and pleading for forgiveness. Price gave him an in, he gave him a chance, even if he went behind his back to do so.

Go and get your bird back, Simon.

It made sense now. Simon nearly laughed in bitter humor.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, finally gaining your gaze back. Your eyes had softened from their hardened walls you built back up again, and he prayed he had a chance. “I know it’s not goin’ to fix anythin’. You’re still angry with me, and you have every right t’be. But if you still decide to throw me out, to never speak t’me again, then I want you t’know that I love you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, chest pulling tight. A mixture of pain and relief coursed through your veins, and you weren’t sure which emotion to listen to. You weren’t sure what was right, but there was one thing you were sure of, and it was that you loved him, too. Heartbreakingly so.

“You do?” you whispered in uncertainty.

Simon rose from his kneeled position, taking a cautious step towards you. When you didn’t back away, he seized the opportunity to cradle your hands in his, holding them to his heart. “I do,” he repeated softly. “I’m not good at this, sweetheart. I’ve done a lot of terrible things. I’ve hurt people, I’ve killed people, yet loving somebody has always been the hardest thing to do. With you, it feels easy.”

You stared up at him, searching for any signs of dishonesty. What stared back at you was pure truth, his eyes flooding with a new light that promised love and confidence.

Taking a deep breath and a leap of faith, you responded, “I love you, too. Even though I should hate you.”

For the first time since seeing him, Simon smiled. It was a boyish smile, one you’d never seen before, and it lit your entire world up. The sun was back out, the flowers were blooming, birds were chirping, and nature was at peace. It tugged on your heartstrings and pulled away all of the hurt that had resided inside.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. It brought you back to the first time the two of you shared a kiss, and the memory was fond. Despite all of the troubles and heartache, Simon was true to his word. Even if the world had failed the two of you, now was the time to change life’s course and rewrite your own future.

“Yes,” you sighed breathlessly.

Simon’s kiss was as familiar as before, but this time, it felt much more intimate. It was burning passion simmered down to tenderness, his hands cradling your face with the utmost care, treating you like frail china. He didn’t push or prod and instead moved with you rather than take control, letting you handle the reins this time.

It was a slow dance rather than a waltz, steady and unceasing.

“We’ll figure this out together, yeah?” he breathed against your lips, and you could feel the curl of his smile. You opened your eyes to peer into his own, unable to contain your own smile.

His lips returned to yours, and you melted into him. All that weight had been lifted so easily. All the rage had dissipated into nothing, being replaced with a warm, glowing light that filled your chest and threatened to burst.

This was all you wanted – to be content. To be happy.

You didn’t want to spend your days, awaiting an early death that would never come, nor did you want to waste it being burdened by the past that haunted you like a demonic spirit. This felt right.

When more and more feeling poured into the kiss, it shifted into something more starved, like two lovers who’d been separated for years. While you were falling into it, Simon was reluctant. Pulling away from you, you had a brief moment of uncertainty before he spoke.

“I don’t want to rush you like I did last time,” he explained gently. “The last thing I want is for you t’feel pressured. I’m not here for only that. M’here to fix this.”

“Simon,” you murmured, a warm smile on your face. “I know you aren’t. I want to do it. Is that okay?”

Simon stared at you for a moment, weighing out his options. While having sex was part of the reason the two of you ended up in this mess, it was the part after that really played a role. This time, things would be different.

“‘Course that’s okay, sweetheart,” he assured, returning your smile.

He was careful in guiding you to your room. While anxiety weighed heavy on his mind in messing things up further, he was determined to ensure that wouldn’t happen. The power was in his hands, and he’d use all of it in order to make you feel the love you deserve to feel.

Peeling off your clothes was a slow task. He took his time, reveling in the warmth of your skin, guiding his hands across every inch of flesh. He was worshiping you, showering you in praise and care. Sweet and reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured affectionately, lips pressing to your cheek, then jaw, then down your neck. You were laid out for him on the bed, looking like a goddess bathed in light. “Don’t know what I did t’deserve you.”

“Simon,” you whispered, feeling tears spring in your eyes. Noticing, he lifted himself up, brushing the pad of his thumb softly over your cheek, swiping away the stray tear. He smiled down at you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

He didn’t leave you waiting, but he certainly didn’t rush either. He worked diligently in stretching you open on his fingers, curling into that familiar spot that had your breath catching and your back arching beautifully. Your moans were spoken sonnets that blessed his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to hear them for the rest of his life.

Simon didn’t stop his notions, working you open until you were a squirming, crying mess, kissing away your tears while drowning in bashfulness at the sight of your pleasure. You deserved to feel good, and he’d die making sure of it.

When he lined himself up with you and slowly pressed his cock inside until he was at the hilt, buried in your moist warmth, he let out a blissful sigh, knocking his forehead against yours. He didn’t tear his eyes off of you, watching every flicker of euphoria that flashed in your eyes when he moved his hips. Unlike last time, his pace was slow yet firm, allowing you to bask in the delicious feeling of his cock pressing against the gummy walls of your cervix with every thrust.

“I love you,” he breathed through a sigh, brushing away a strand of hair that stuck in a sweaty mess to your forehead. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. M’so lucky.”

You whimpered as he showered you in praise, wiggling from under him. The pleasure mixed with brimming love had you close to orgasm, clenching around him in a vice. He panted with you, breath fanning your face, only getting cut off when he’d lean down to kiss you.

It was a wonderful display of intimacy. This wasn’t just sex. He wasn’t ruining you, he wasn’t leaving you broken. He was leaving you overflowing with promises that he had every intention of keeping.

Simon swallowed up your moans with lips pressed to yours, fucking you through your orgasm, whispering sweet encouragements. He filled you, sealing those promises, his spend mixing with yours and bringing the two of you together as one.

Breathless and spent, Simon tangled you in his arms and legs, holding you close to his chest so he could feel your warmth against him. It brought him comfort and security, like a blanket being lovingly placed over him and consuming him in a snug embrace.

It was silent for a long time after, but neither of you minded it. You relished in the feeling of one another, and words weren’t needed.

“You’re not going to leave after I fall asleep, are you?” you whispered, breaking the silence with a brief moment of weakness. Simon shifted his head to look down at you, lifting a hand to cradle your head and card his fingers in your hair.

“No, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. You nodded against him, snuggling closer to him, cheek pressed against his chest.

“You weren’t here to see me make it to two weeks,” you said softly. Though the reminder hurt to hear, you held no resentment in your tone, which gave him a sense of relief.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized with a frown. When you peeked your head up to look at him, his eyes softened. It was like looking at the most beautiful thing crafted on this planet, and he had the absolute honor of calling it his.

“Maybe we can have a do-over,” you suggested, smiling cheekily at him. It enticed a laugh on his end, rumbling from his chest.

“How about instead of puttin’ a deadline on it this time, we keep count of the days that you wake up and accomplish seeing all the tomorrows. Deal?”

Your smile widened, and you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s a deal.”

IT'S OFFICIALLY OVER!!!! I am so sad because I had such an amazing time writing this fic and it will truly always be one of my favorites. so many of you enjoyed it and supported me through it, and I cannot thank you enough for all the love you've given me :,) I sincerely hope this ending is what everybody wanted and more. I love you all <3

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod mw3 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #hitman!simon #hitman au #ghost #ghost x reader

565 notes · View notes

aspenmissing · 2 months ago

Note

Hellooo again my dear! ^-^

I need to get this out of my head: Even though I'm a huge fan of JayVik, I thought that the first encounter between Jayce and Mel was really cute. How he smiled at her, while she covered Jayce and Viktor while trying to break into Heimerdingers lab. BUT.....poor Viktor was the third wheel in this situation (and we all remember the face he made, while Jayce was smiling like a lovesick idiot, hahaha)

Soo, what about Reader beeing Mel's assistant and also Viktor's crush. During the encounter, Reader was with Mel and witnessed the scene infront of Heimerdingers lab. Mel knows about Viktors crush for her friend and wants Reader to stay with Jayce and Viktor, while she coveres them and they try to find the solution for Jayce's theories.

Even though Mel told Reader "Stay with them, so they don't make anything stupid." She just want to support the little lovestory between the those two lovebirds.

ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ,ᴍᴇʟ,ʜᴇɪᴍᴇʀᴅɪɴɢᴇʀ) || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ||

3523 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ?

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʙᴀᴋᴀɪ! ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ, ʜᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴡᴋᴡᴀʀᴅ (ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇʟ ꜰʟɪʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀɴ). ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ!! ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!!! <3

The corridors of the academy were eerily quiet at this hour, the only sounds drifting in from the city beyond the grand windows—the distant hum of machinery, the occasional murmur of late-night workers, and the rhythmic flicker of torchlight as enforcers patrolled the halls.

Crouched before the heavy laboratory door, Viktor worked quickly, his fingers deftly slotting in the first key. Jayce stood beside him, holding a small light aloft, eyes darting around anxiously for any sign of unwanted company.

"So far, so good," Viktor murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Before he could insert the second key, a sudden burst of light flooded the hallway, casting long, sharp shadows against the walls.

"Hmm," a smooth, knowing voice drawled. "Willing to risk exile for your endeavour? That’s quite the conviction."

Jayce stiffened, blinking against the brightness.

Standing before them, poised and unimpressed, was Councillor Mel Medarda, the golden embellishments of her robe glinting under the light. But she wasn’t alone. Just behind her, slightly off to the side, stood Y/N, her ever-dedicated assistant. Unlike Mel’s carefully schooled expression, Y/N’s was unreadable—though when her gaze flickered briefly to Viktor, something softer, something unguarded, passed over her face before she quickly masked it.

Jayce let out a nervous chuckle. "C-Councillor! What a surprise."

Viktor, far less rattled, let out an amused breath, glancing at the key still in his grasp. "This isn’t my bedroom."

Y/N’s lips twitched at that, but she remained quiet.

Jayce, still scrambling for footing, took a hesitant step forward, turning to Mel with wide, pleading eyes. "Please," he said earnestly, "we can prove that it works."

Mel arched a sculpted brow. "You couldn’t do so earlier today. How is tonight any different?"

Viktor finally straightened, dusting himself off. "We figured out how to stabilise it."

Mel tilted her head slightly, her sharp gaze settling on him. "You’re the professor’s assistant, aren’t you?" She lifted her light just a fraction, enough for the glow to highlight the sharp angles of his face, the glint of something clever in his golden eyes.

Before Viktor could answer, Y/N spoke. "His name is Viktor."

Her voice was even, professional, but Mel caught the subtle way she said it. The way it lingered—not just a correction, but a quiet insistence, an acknowledgment. Viktor. Not just an assistant.

Mel turned slightly, giving Y/N a look—subtle, knowing, amused. Ah. So this was the Viktor she had a crush on.

Jayce, oblivious to the exchange, straightened his spine. "My new partner," he declared.

Mel hummed, considering that. Y/N, despite herself, glanced at Viktor again, but he was focused on Mel, waiting for her verdict.

"Even if you manage to prove your theory, the council would destroy it," Mel said, her voice laced with both amusement and warning.

"Heimerdinger will recognise the potential," Viktor replied confidently. Mel let out a small, knowing laugh.

"He already does. It scares him. It scares them all," she replied with a sly smirk.

"What about you?" Jayce pressed, his eyes narrowing, seeking her true thoughts.

"I recognise that any worthwhile venture involves risk," she answered, her gaze flicking to Y/N for a moment, as if to gauge her reaction.

The trio was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps, accompanied by a soft whistle. Mel looked behind her, and her sharp gaze softened for just a moment.

"Councillor, this technology," Jayce said, his voice tinged with desperation. "It's real. And no matter what happens here, it's going to change our world. We should be the ones to lead it. Piltover, the land of progress, equality, innovation. I know it sounds impossible, but when have we ever let that stop us? Please, just give us a chance."

Mel considered his words, her eyes flicking between him and Viktor. After a beat, she raised one finger, a gesture that silenced both men.

"One night, gentlemen," she said. "Impress me, or I'd suggest you pack your bags."

Without another word, she turned off the light, walking back down the hall, her heels clicking steadily on the stone floor. As she passed, she gave a subtle nod toward Y/N, who had remained quietly observing the scene from the side.

"Stay with them," Mel instructed, her voice low but insistent. "So they don’t do anything stupid." But the gleam in her eyes suggested something more—a subtle push, a hint of support behind the words, a quiet encouragement for Y/N to remain at Viktor's side.

Y/N gave a small nod, her lips curling into a faint smile as she turned to look at Viktor. She'd heard the tone in Mel's voice—she knew exactly what was meant. Mel’s carefully veiled suggestion wasn’t lost on her.

"Don't worry, Councillor," Y/N said dryly, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I’ll make sure they don't burn the place down."

Mel smiled, pleased with the subtle shift in her plan, before continuing down the hall. As she approached the enforcer, she blocked his path with an air of casual authority.

"Harold!" she called out with a warm tone, watching as the man jumped, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Councillor Medarda," Harold stammered. "You nearly scared me to death!"

Mel put a hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the hallway. "Another late night?" she asked, her tone casual, like this was nothing more than a normal exchange.

"I suppose that's a sign of good business," Harold said as the two walked off, their voices fading as they moved further down the corridor.

Once they were out of sight, Jayce flicked his light back on with a goofy grin, his gaze lingering on where Mel had disappeared.

"One night," Jayce muttered, almost to himself. "We’ve got this."

Viktor rolled his eyes, clearly unfazed by Jayce's excitement. He returned to unlocking the door, his fingers moving with quick precision, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/N, standing quietly by, watched them both. Her thoughts, however, were far more focused on the subtle tension between her and Viktor, the unspoken bond that had been forming between them. She wasn't quite sure where it would lead, but for now, she was content to let things unfold.

"Let’s just get this door open first," she said, her voice calm but carrying a quiet weight of something more—something that neither Viktor nor Jayce could quite place yet.

Viktor met her gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable, before returning his attention to the door. But for a brief second, the faintest glimmer of something unspoken passed between them.

Once in the lab, Viktor and Jayce got straight to work. They darted around the room, gathering metal, wires, and whatever else they needed to construct the contraption that would hold the blue crystal.

Y/N, meanwhile, sat off to the side, watching them in quiet amusement. Their energy was almost infectious—the way they moved in sync, exchanging tools and ideas without needing to say much at all. It was clear they had already become an unshakable team.

She let her gaze wander around the lab, taking in the details—the shelves lined with books, the intricate blueprints pinned to the walls, the half-finished experiments cluttering the desks. She wasn’t used to being in places like this, surrounded by science and innovation. It was fascinating in its own way, but foreign.

"Y/N?"

Viktor’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she blinked, looking over to find him watching her with curious eyes.

"What about you?" he asked.

She frowned slightly. "What about me?"

Viktor leaned against the desk, tilting his head. "What do you think of magic?"

Y/N blinked at the unexpected question. "Magic?"

Jayce, who had been adjusting the contraption, glanced up, watching her with interest.

Viktor nodded. "Jayce believes it can change the world. I believe it can be understood—harnessed. But what do you think?"

Y/N hesitated. She had never given much thought to magic beyond the stories people told. But then, a memory surfaced—one she hadn’t thought about in years.

"When I was little," she started softly, her eyes distant, "I got lost in the woods."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a look but remained silent, letting her continue.

"It was late, the sun had set, and everything was so dark. I remember feeling... small. Like the whole world had swallowed me up, and I was just this tiny, scared thing with no way out." She swallowed, her fingers brushing absently over the hem of her sleeve. "I was terrified."

A pause. Then, she exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "But then... he found me. A man. I couldn’t see his face, just his silhouette against the night. But somehow, I knew he wasn’t a threat. He knelt beside me and said, ‘There is no need to fear the dark. It only hides what the light has yet to show you.’"

Jayce’s brows knitted together. "What happened next?"

Y/N’s lips curved faintly. "He swung his staff, and suddenly, the darkness wasn’t so scary anymore. A warm, golden light spread around us, guiding the way home. I don’t know how he did it, but... it felt like magic."

For a moment, the lab was silent.

Viktor’s expression was unreadable, but his golden eyes flickered with something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

Jayce, however, looked stunned. "That man," he breathed, stepping closer, "he saved you?"

Y/N nodded slowly.

Jayce’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. "He saved me too."

She blinked at him, surprised.

"When I was a kid," Jayce said, his voice quieter now, "my mum and I were caught in a storm. We would’ve died out there if he hadn’t come. He did the same thing—he used his staff to create light, it kept up warm until the storm was over."

The realisation settled over them like a slow dawn. Y/N’s heart thumped against her ribs.

"Who was he?" she murmured.

Viktor, still watching them both, finally spoke.

"A man of science," he said, his voice softer than usual. "And a believer in the impossible." Y/N met his gaze and gave him a small smile.

"So, to answer your question," she said, looking between them, "I believe this could help people. Show them the way with light—out of the darkness."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them. Then, Jayce exhaled, shaking his head in amazement.

"Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "if that’s not a sign we’re on the right path, I don’t know what is."

Viktor chuckled softly, turning back to the contraption. "Then let’s make sure we get it right."

Y/N stood, stepping closer as Viktor reached for the spherical blue crystal. He held it up between his fingers, studying the way it pulsed with energy before handing it to Jayce.

"It's all here," Jayce murmured, placing the crystal into the centre of the device. As soon as it made contact, blue electricity surged through the wires, illuminating the room with a soft glow.

Viktor grinned. "Time to crank it." He shut his book and moved to adjust the controls.

Jayce hesitated, hands hovering over the levers. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Viktor gave him a sheepish shrug. "Not entirely."

Y/N let out a short laugh, crossing her arms. "That’s comforting."

Jayce sighed but pulled the small lever anyway. The crystal began to float, suspended in the middle of the contraption. Viktor reached for a dial, pressing the button in its centre. The machine whirred to life, metal rods spinning around the crystal, generating arcs of blue energy.

At first, everything seemed fine. The electricity crackled in controlled bursts, the runes engraved on the spinning discs shifting with each turn. But then, the energy started to build—too fast, too strong.

"I don’t think it’s going to hold!" Jayce shouted over the rising hum. Wind whipped around them, scattering papers and rattling loose tools.

"The resonance will stabilise it—trust me!" Viktor insisted, gripping the desk.

Jayce shot him a doubtful look, but before he could argue, the machine pulsed, sending another surge of energy outward. Sparks flew. The blue glow intensified, flickering wildly.

Y/N instinctively took a step back, shielding her eyes. "Uh, I hate to be the one to say this, but that does not look stable!"

Jayce gritted his teeth, turning the dial to try and regain control. The crystal floated higher, spinning in place. Each shift of the dial changed the rune combinations, triggering flashes of energy that danced across the room like lightning.

Then, without warning, the energy spiked. The arcs of electricity lashed out, zapping everything in sight. The windows rattled, the lights flickered, and the lab was suddenly filled with a deafening crack!

"Disengage!" Jayce shouted.

But before Jayce could react, a pulse of energy exploded outward, shattering the glass windows. The force sent them stumbling back as shards rained down around them, frozen midair by the electrified static.

Y/N barely had time to react before the shards reversed, shooting back toward them with terrifying speed.

In an instant, Viktor moved—his arm catching Y/N by the waist as he pulled her close, shielding her with his body. His free hand shot up instinctively, his coat whipping around them as the glass whizzed past. A sharp sting nicked his cheek, but he barely flinched, holding Y/N firm against him.

Jayce threw himself forward, slamming his fist onto the emergency shut-off button. The crystal dropped back into the centre of the device, sending a final ripple of light through the air before the machine powered down. The sparks fizzled, leaving behind only a faint hum of residual energy.

For a long moment, no one moved.

Y/N slowly lifted her head from Viktor’s shoulder, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her own. He loosened his grip, exhaling a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

She glanced up at him—his golden eyes were still wide, as if caught between adrenaline and sheer wonder. A fresh cut trailed down his cheek, a stark contrast against his pale skin.

Her gaze flickered downward. His hand was still resting lightly at her waist.

Jayce groaned, pressing a hand to his own gash. "That’s never happened before," he muttered, breathless.

Viktor finally let go of Y/N, stepping forward with that same gleam of fascination in his eyes. "Because we’ve never pushed it this far," he murmured, touching the crystal’s surface with reverence.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, brushing glass off her sleeve. "You two are going to get us killed."

Viktor smirked, casting her a sidelong glance. "Perhaps. But I’ll do my best to keep you intact—god knows what Mel would do if her favourite assistant ended up in pieces."

She shot him a look, unimpressed, but the warmth in her chest lingered longer than she expected. However, she was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps and hurried voices approaching. Y/N quickly glanced at Viktor, then down at his cane, her brow furrowing in concern.

Down the hall, Heimerdinger rushed as fast as he could with his small legs, two enforcers following closely behind him. They reached the lab and began banging on the door.

"Open up!" one of the enforcers ordered, but Viktor's cane, placed between the door handles, acted as a barricade, blocking their entry.

"Stop this lunacy at once!" Heimerdinger shouted from the other side.

"They're almost through! No pressure," Viktor said, standing beside Y/N and Jayce, the contraption still humming to life behind them.

"That sounds like pressure!" Jayce retorted, her voice light.

"No, it's more of a friendly push!" Y/N added with a smirk.

Jayce turned the dial once more, the runes shifting combinations. But the enforcers, relentless, began kicking at the door.

"Open it!" they shouted, their voices growing more insistent.

Y/N and Jayce exchanged a look, then nodded. Y/N placed her hand over Jayce's, their fingers pressing firmly together as they began turning the dial in tandem, remembering the motions of the man from their past. Slowly, the runes began to glow on the crystal. As they aligned, a deep pulse rippled through the room, and a loud bang followed, sending a surge of blue light across the lab. A circle of runes appeared overhead, casting ethereal light on the scene. Just as the enforcers broke through Viktor’s cane barricade, a brilliant light erupted, blinding them and lighting up nearly all of Piltover.

"Excuse me, underfoot!" Heimerdinger exclaimed, pushing past the enforcers, who stood frozen in shock.

Inside, the scene was nothing short of magical. Heimerdinger's eyes widened as he took in the sight before him: Viktor’s broken cane floated midair, small electric arcs zapping between its two parts. But it wasn’t just that—the whole room had come alive. Items floated weightlessly around them, and most striking of all, the three of them were floating as well. Viktor and Jayce hovered on either side of the contraption, arms outstretched, a look of wonder on their faces. Y/N, however, floated slightly higher, upside-down, her hair swirling around her like a halo. Viktor caught her gaze, giving her a small, warm look that sent a strange flutter through her chest. The ceiling was filled with constellations, stars twinkling in the midst of the chaos.

Jayce, grinning ear to ear, pushed a small cog toward the crystal. The moment it connected, the crystal zapped it toward Viktor, who caught it effortlessly, a proud smile forming on his face. Y/N’s smile was radiant, her joy lighting up the room in a way Viktor hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t just a smile—it was a moment of pure, unfiltered happiness that made everything feel possible.

She reached her hand out to Viktor, and without hesitation, he gently grabbed it, pulling her toward him as she twirled in mid-air. He tried to steady her, keeping her from spinning too much, and for a moment, they just floated there, staring at each other. There was something in his eyes—something unspoken, a quiet admiration that seemed to say everything they hadn't voiced aloud. Y/N smiled softly, her gaze lingering on him.

"You’ve… actually done it," Heimerdinger whispered, his voice full of disbelief as his eyes darted around the room, taking in the floating objects and the spectacular sight of the three of them suspended in the air. "But just because it can be done, doesn't mean..." He trailed off, his words lost as he looked up at them in awe, before exhaling an exasperated sigh. "Will you please stop hovering?"

"I’m not sure how to do that, sir," Viktor replied, his tone light but tinged with a small chuckle, as the three of them continued to float around, mesmerised by the results of their work.

"This is now what Piltover’s future looks like, my dear boys," Heimerdinger muttered, his voice both proud and frustrated. "And my dear Y/N, what would Mel think of this?"

Before Y/N could answer, the sharp click of heels echoed in the room, followed by a voice she knew well.

"I would think it’s for the counsellor to decide," Mel said, stepping forward, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. She tilted her head upward, her gaze sweeping over the room with a mixture of intrigue and disbelief. "Perhaps it’s time for the era of magic."

"Uh, hextech," Jayce quickly corrected her, a grin tugging at his lips as he glanced at Mel. "For the era of hextech."

Heimerdinger looked between Mel and Jayce, brow furrowed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed the scene. He muttered to himself, more to process what he was seeing than anything else, "Hextech? We’ll see what you two have truly created."

But before anyone could speak further, Mel’s gaze shifted slightly, catching sight of Viktor and Y/N. Their hands were still connected, fingers intertwined in an unspoken display of unity. Viktor’s gaze lingered on Y/N, a quiet warmth in his eyes, while she met his look with a soft smile that spoke volumes. For a brief moment, the room seemed to hush, as if even the air held its breath in that shared space between them.

Mel paused, taking in the sight of the two of them, their connection clear and undeniable. Her lips curled into a thoughtful smile, her keen eyes glancing from Y/N to Viktor before she cleared her throat.

"Well," she said, her tone shifting slightly, as if processing something more than just the invention in front of her. "It seems the future has already begun... in more ways than one."

Y/N and Viktor exchanged a glance, a subtle understanding passing between them, the weight of everything they had built—together, both in their work and their growing bond—lingering in the air.

#Arcane #Arcane fandom #Arcane fluff #reader insert #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n

168 notes · View notes