#do you see now how much this boy consumes my every living being | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misojunnie · 3 months ago

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COVET 𖣂

how far would you go for love?

your boyfriend jungwon has always been a kind soul. he refused to hurt a spider, much less a human, but when a new, younger, attractive admirer enters your life, something in him changes. as jealousy begins to consume him, and the competition between the two boys ensues, you watch your life turn upside down.

pairing: bf!jungwon vs. admirer!riki x fem!reader

genre: psychological thriller, horror, love triangle, established relationship au

warnings: violence, dark and disturbing behavior, substance use, murder, slow burn (only gets scary at the end) no mature themes! enha’s behavior and personalities are not a reflection of reality, it’s just a story

featuring: enhypen

playlist: runaway by kanye west, nowhere to run by stegosaurus rex, S.D.O.S by alex g, sour times - live version by portishead, violent youth by crystal castles, goth by sidewalks and skeletons

word count: 12.6k

taglist! @enhacolor @jwnghyuns @theothernads @adoredbyjay @firstclassjaylee @dollschan @enreveriee @surrik-i @jwonistic @laurradoesloveu @laylasbunbunny @tmtxtf

network tags: @kflixnet @kvanity-main @k-radio @enhypennetwork

see the trailer.

a/n: hello all! welcome to the first installment of fright night, my halloween series! I hope you enjoy ❤️

You had never considered yourself an overtly desirable person.

You spent the majority of your school years being ignored. You didn’t have many friends, and you spent most of your lunches eating alone. For a long time, school felt like torture.

Meeting Yang Jungwon felt like a breath of fresh air.

You met in your junior year. Neither of you were exactly popular, and you both seemed to have an innate ability to blend into the background. But upon meeting each other, you realized you didn’t have to hide yourself. Jungwon valued you for exactly who you were. And he valued you very, very much.

Before you knew it, you were spending every waking moment with him. He would sneak into your bedroom window after dark. You’d stay up until the sun rose, speaking in hushed whispers, talking about anything and everything. You quickly realized that he was the only person in the world who you could tell everything to.

The last day of junior year, he kissed you under the willow tree in your front yard. You didn’t think you’d ever felt happier in your life.

And suddenly, your life was all about Yang Jungwon.

You spent almost every day of summer by his side, doing everything imaginable. Picnics in the park, walks on the beach, night drives, your hair whipping in the cold nighttime wind as he sped down the highway, laughing. You had never been this happy before, and neither had he. Then, summer ended.

You didn’t think Jungwon had changed, but the people around you disagreed.

Jungwon grew a few inches over the summer. His clothes suddenly fit him awkwardly as he filled out in the shoulders and the arms, and his pants were now just a little too short. He dropped the rest of his baby fat, his cheekbones emerging from underneath his young skin. He cut his hair, and his long brown locks were suddenly gone, shaggy against his forehead. You had always thought Jungwon was beautiful, but suddenly, it seemed like the whole world thought the same thing.

You returned to senior year together, and the entire school began treating him like a different person. He received love notes in class, giggles and looks of desire as he walked down the hallways.

You were terrified that he would change upon receiving this newfound attention. But Jungwon never changed. He showed you off to his new friends, dripping praise. He took you to the parties he was suddenly invited to, and stayed by your side the entire night, even when beautiful girls approached him and asked him to dance. He told everyone he met that you were perfect, and nothing about you needed to change. And slowly, you began to believe it. At the same time, the world began to finally see you for who you were.

Jungwon was loyal. He knew he had found something special with you, and he never considered for a minute that he might abandon it. And despite rising in the ranks of high-school-high-society, he made sure you never felt left behind.

That was what you loved about him the most. He really never changed.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Halloween was your favorite time of the year. After summer, of course.

You loved the scary movies, the gaudy costumes, the foggy weather with golden leaves. Not to mention you were a horror connoisseur, which meant you knew exactly what movies to play to make Jungwon freak out. He wasn’t a big fan of scary things.

But you loved Halloween, and Jungwon loved you, so he did too.

You sat in the back of your class, brainstorming your plans for the month. You were 19 now, Jungwon being a year older. You were in your sophomore year of college. It felt like an eternity ago that you spent those carefree summer days on the beach with the man you had now been dating for four years.

You were a semester into the year already, and you generally got to know everyone in your class. But the door to the lecture hall swung open, and in walked a face you knew you had never seen before.

He was tall, very tall. It was the first thing you noticed; how he towered over the rest of the men. His face was striking, catching the attention of everyone in the room. He looked a little younger than yourself. It was as if he brought in an icy draft with him as he walked inside, and you rubbed your hands, suddenly a bit colder than before.

As he walked past your desk, he slowed. He looked at you briefly, before walking to the farthest seat in the class, setting down his bag and crossing his arms. He didn’t speak to anyone. You attempted to ignore him, taking out your notes. But something in your gut told you to turn around, and there he was. Staring at you. You shook it off, too afraid to turn around lest he was staring again.

But when you inevitably did, he didn’t break eye contact.

You were a bit shaken by your interaction with the mysterious boy.

He intrigued you. Since you started dating Jungwon, you viewed thinking about other men as a kind of unrepentable crime. You had always been the kind of person who saved their heart for only one person. The lecture hall was almost empty by now, and you packed your bag. Only after a moment did you notice you weren’t alone.

“Hey.” he said. You startled, turning around to meet the eyes of the very boy you had just been thinking about.

“Oh, hi.” you said, attempting to be casual.

“I’m Riki. What’s your name?” he asked curiously, and you indulged him.

“I’m y/n.” you responded, unsure of how to introduce yourself, so you settled on reaching out a friendly hand. He stared at it for a moment, before laughing, shaking your hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you, y/n.” Something about him was inexplicably charming. He had seemed cold and unapproachable when he first walked in, but you felt the warmth of his smile, heard the wind chimes of his soft laugh. “Today’s my first day here.”

“Ah, new transfer.” you said, chipper as you began walking down the stairs. He followed you, a step behind. “Welcome to Decelis University.”

“That’s the first greeting I’ve gotten.” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Nice to know I’m welcome.” You felt bad for him somehow. He was intimidating, that was for sure. With his angular face and dark energy, you bet people had been misjudging him.

“Of course. Always nice to meet a new student.”

“So, tell me about yourself.” you raised a brow at his odd question, but complied.

By the time you responded, you were in the halls, still walking together.

“Well, I’m a sophomore. I moved from Seoul, and I’m a psychology major. But I like literature.” you said, satisfied with your answer, confused when he shook his head.

“No, not that. Something real.” You considered it. Did you really want to tell something real to a man you had just met? It felt traitorous somehow.

“I don’t know, I’d have to think about it.” you responded, shrugging, and he smiled abstractedly at your answer. “Why don’t you tell me something about you?”

“Well, I’m a freshman. I just moved here a couple months ago from Osaka,” he added, and you nodded curiously. “I’m double majoring in forensic science and neuroscience, with a minor in psychology. Oh, and I like to paint.”

“Oh, an overachiever.” you said with amusement, and he shrugged, hands still in his pockets. “I know your type.”

“Trust me, I don’t think you do.” he grinned, and you laughed. You didn’t realize how far you had been walking together, and suddenly you were in the courtyard, rapidly approaching your usual meeting spot with your boyfriend.

And he was there. He was smiling, excited to see you, but his expression dropped when he saw you walking with a man he had never seen before, a man with the face of an angel and the eyes of a devil.

“Shit, that’s my boyfriend.” you said, suddenly aware of Jungwon’s presence and hoping he didn’t get the wrong impression. Riki hummed, a light smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Oh, your boyfriend.” he said, enunciating the last word in a way you didn’t like.

“See you tomorrow Riki.” you said quickly, leaving his side to speedily walk to Jungwon, not waiting for a response. “Sorry, have you been waiting long?” Jungwon didn’t answer, his eyes still trained on the boy standing a few yards away.

“Who’s that?” he asked, and you tried to discern the tone of his voice, unable to. “A new friend?” You scoffed, waving your hand dismissively.

“Hardly. He just transferred to my class today. I barely remember his name.” you responded hastily, and Jungwon raised a brow. He chose to ignore any begrudging thoughts, placing his hand on the small of your back with a smile.

As you both turned away, Jungwon looked over his shoulder, gazing back into the eyes of the man behind you. He was still staring.

As a pair, you strode away to your favorite lunch spot. Jungwon didn’t want to think about this new boy, who he was, or what his intentions were. He assumed this was a confused freshman who needed help navigating the new school, and flocked to the nearest friendly smile and set of kind eyes.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this boy was going to be a very big problem.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon was upset.

He tried not to show it. He didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but he was. Underneath it all, he hated the idea of other men thinking about you the way he did.

Back in high school, a part of him regretted inviting you into his newfound popularity. You were beautiful. You were intelligent. You were funny. You had all the good qualities; the issue was that nobody but him could see them. By bringing you into the spotlight, suddenly everyone finally recognized you for what you were. And he quickly realized that he preferred when he was the only one that could see you.

But it made you confident, and certainly happier, which was all he cared about in the end. He let go of those resentments because he saw how much you loved being loved. You were a human being. He couldn’t be angry at that.

But this man, this new man, Jungwon didn’t trust him one bit.

The truth was, Jungwon didn’t trust men at all. He thought men were loathsome, foul creatures. It was why he preferred spending his time with you. Every man he had ever met had some kind of twisted, sick problem on the inside. They just didn’t show it. But Jungwon saw it. He noticed the little things.

And his gut was telling him that this man was up to no good.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You worked at a charming American diner near your campus. Even with you and Jungwon both contributing to rent, you were barely able to afford your little apartment, so you took almost every shift you could.

You were surprised to see Riki walk into your restaurant.

“Hey.” he greeted you with a nod of his head, seating himself at a booth in the corner. He didn’t seem surprised to see you at all. “You work here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you stumbled over your words. You were shocked that he had so easily managed to invade an intimate part of your life, but it was close to the college, and you shook it off, knowing he likely wanted a warm meal after a long night of classes. You glanced at your watch. You closed in twenty minutes. “What can I get for you?”

He rolled his shoulders, not bothering to look at the menu. “Oh, just get me whatever your favorite is.” You scrawled an order down on your notepad.

“So, how’d you end up in my restaurant?” you joked, and he shrugged casually.

“What can I say, I like American food.” you hummed, turning around to take his order to the kitchen. He followed you with his eyes, leaning back further in his seat.

You tucked the slip into the order wheel, hesitating to go back as you observed the frantic kitchen. It wasn’t like you had anything against Riki, but he seemed like the type of guy you tried to stay away from in high school, and that combined with his apparent interest in you made you nervous. Not to mention the fact that your boyfriend probably wasn’t fond of seeing you together.

“Your food.” you said, eventually deciding to return to Riki’s table. He didn’t seem remotely interested in the food.

“Sit down with me.” he requested, and you raised a brow at him. “Come on, it’s not like you have anything better to do.” he chuckled, gesturing at the nearly empty diner. It was now twelve minutes until closing time, and he was right, you had nothing else to do. So you took a seat.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked after a moment, looking pointedly at his food, which he hadn’t touched. He smiled, picking up a fork and taking a bite.

“It’s good,” he said, chewing. “But I’m more interested in talking to you.”

“And why is that?” you questioned with amusement. He shrugged.

“You’re interesting.” he replied, and you scoffed. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“So that’s why you’ve been bothering me?” He put a hand over his heart.

“Ouch. That wounds me. I thought we were friends.” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t contain a mild smile. He noticed, and smiled as well.

“Sure. We’re friends.” you said, resting your chin on your palm as you propped your arm up on the table. “So, you like American food?”

“Sure,” he said, not seeming very opinionated on the matter. “I was more drawn in by the ambiance. It’s a nice place.” He was right. It was a nice diner, with checkered floors, vintage movie posters, and intimate little booths. You were suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the romantic atmosphere, and swallowed dryly.

“Yeah, I agree. The ambience is kinda the whole appeal.”

“So you like nice restaurants.” His gaze was intense, and the way it drew you in made you uncomfortable. His charisma felt dangerously sharp, like a knife.

“That’s one way to say it.” you said. He grinned.

“So when can I take you out to one?” your amused expression dropped.

“That’s not funny.”

“It isn’t?” he said innocently, and you stood up, a hand lingering on the table before you glanced at your watch. Luckily your shift was over, and you had an excellent excuse to get out of this situation, and out from under his piercing eyes.

“My shift’s over. Goodnight, Riki.” you said firmly, untying your apron. He watched carefully as you strode quickly to the kitchen, ducking behind the metal doors.

You didn’t come back out, and after a moment of waiting, he left his money on the table and walked out the door, not bothering to finish his food.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki had been thinking about you all day.

He wasn’t sure what it was that attracted him, but he found you interesting. What he liked the most was that you were genuine. He had a good eye for superficial people, and you weren’t one of them. You meant everything that came out of your mouth.

Riki had been a heartbreaker in high school, and he planned on being the same in college. Not a week went by where his breakups didn’t scandalize the school, and that was just how he liked it. Some people thought he was a womanizer; he disagreed. He thought that attraction was power, and people should use it to their advantage.

The truth was, Riki wasn’t fond of men. He thought they were liars. Maybe he and Jungwon had something in common in that regard. He liked that women were honest, open with their emotions and intentions. Men hid their motivations, hid their secrets, hid everything. Riki was an open book. He told every girl whose heart he’d broken that it would end up badly. And when it inevitably went wrong, he said I told you so.

And because Riki didn’t like men, he wanted to take things from them. When he found a man he didn’t trust, a man he knew was rotten, he robbed him of his worth. His happiness. His girlfriend. And he was going to do it again here, he was determined.

He didn’t trust your boyfriend. He may seem perfect on paper, but Riki could tell there was something rotting beneath the surface. Everyone had something to hide. And he was going to expose whatever your boyfriend was hiding.

It’s what he always did.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon had been watching you.

In his heart, he knew it was wrong. He had never not trusted you before, and he wasn’t sure what was happening to him. He was uneasy, anxious, and upset. Yesterday, the two of you had lunch and he barely touched his food. That night, he didn’t sleep.

It wasn’t like guys hadn’t pursued you before. In the past four years, boys would hit on you at parties, in class, even on your dates. He’d tell them to scram, and then you’d laugh about it together afterward. It had never bothered him when other guys were interested in you; if anything, it made him more proud of himself for being with you. In fact, he wasn’t even certain that this particular man was interested in you at all.

That was until he saw you having dinner together.

You were sitting in the corner booth. Through the foggy glass, Jungwon could see his face, smiling. His eyes were crescent moons as he chuckled at something you said, neither of you eating, just speaking. He couldn’t tell if you were smiling back at him, and he wanted to know desperately.

When he saw you get up and go to the kitchen, he checked the time on his watch. Your shift was over, which meant he needed to get a move on, and he shoved his hands in his pockets before speeding in the direction of your shared apartment.

He felt horrible about what he had just done. He knew he was your boyfriend, but watching you without you knowing felt like a crime. He walked with a pit in his stomach, anxious to beat you home. He didn’t want you to know he had been acting strangely.

He trusted you. He trusted you with his entire heart, as he had been for the past four years, without regret.

But could he trust the people around you?

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki was back in your diner, as he had been every day for the past week. You had given up on lecturing him about righteousness; clearly he didn’t care. You just served him his food, and as usual, he asked you to sit down with him.

The scent of sweet violet, cedarwood, and a little cigarette smoke filled the air as you sat across from him, and you found it extremely pleasant.

“New cologne?’ you asked. You didn’t like that this was becoming routine for the two of you, but you engaged anyway.

“You noticed,” he said happily. “Yeah, it’s new. You like it?” You looked out the window, resting your chin on your hand as you attempted to ignore him.

“It’s nice.” you grumbled, and he smiled in satisfaction.

He was Jungwon’s complete opposite. He was demanding, flirty, and charming in an aggressive way. His voice was deep and smooth, unlike Jungwon’s soft lilt. He was sweet, but not kind. Jungwon was the kindest boy you had ever met.

He forked a bite of food for himself before chewing in satisfaction. “So, are you ready to answer?”

“Answer what?” you asked, bemused.

“I told you I wanted to hear something real about you.” you laughed, recalling your first conversation, and it seemed like an eternity ago.

“You go first.” you suggested, and to your surprise, he obliged.

“Well, that’s a tough question. I suppose something real about me is that I don’t believe in love.” You raised a brow incredulously.

“Why is that?”

“Not sure. I just never have.”

“Something must have happened to convince you love wasn’t real.” He considered telling you, but his brain resisted. He wasn’t ready to spill his guts to you. Sharing his secrets would mean opening himself up to be vulnerable, and Riki hated being vulnerable. You sensed his hesitation, saying; “You can tell me.”

And despite himself, he told you.

“My parents never really loved each other.” he said simply, and you frowned. “For as long as I can remember, they’ve been cold to each other. Sometimes they fight. Violently.” He sighed, and you felt pity welling up in your chest. “I guess I don’t believe in love because I don’t believe in marriage. I don’t think human beings are capable of loving each other forever.”

“I’m sorry, Riki.” you said, and he shook his head, looking away. “But you’re wrong.” His eyes drifted to yours, and he raised a brow. “Love exists. Deep down, everyone has love in their heart.”

“People spend their entire lives chasing for love, and they still don’t find it.”

“That’s because love is work. Everyone has the potential to find it one day. You just have to start looking.” Your words touched him. He had never considered that love was something he had to work for, not just a concept that was driven by fate.

“Agree to disagree.” he snorted, and you shrugged, taking a bite of his food.

“There’s love everywhere.”

Instead of running away at the end of your shift, this time you allowed him to walk you out. The two of you strode into the cold night, you shivering in your tee shirt.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and you shook your head, covering your waist with your arms in an attempt to warm up. Wordlessly, he pulled off his jacket and hung it over your shoulders. You glared at him, but accepted it. From the pocket of his jeans, he removed a pack of red Marlboros, slipping a cigarette out of the packet. “Smoke?” he asked, and you shook your head. He propped the cigarette in between his lips.

“You’re a bit young to smoke, aren’t you?” you asked, and he chuckled.

“Every teenager has a bit of fun. Even if they’re not supposed to.” you smiled.

He was a total cliche. The leather jacket wearing, cigarette smoking, flirtatious rebel that flirted as easily as he breathed. And somehow, despite hating that overplayed trope, you found it endearing when it was him.

“Hey, Riki?” you said, and he hummed, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I’m actually glad we became friends.”

“Friends?” he said, blowing smoke as his lips curled into a smile, leaning against the wall, a mere couple of feet away from you. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, and he looked ethereal under the moonlight. “We’re not gonna be friends.”

You were about to respond when someone called your name.

Your eyes widened in fright as you turned to see Jungwon standed a few paces behind you, his breath visible in the fall climate. He looked upset, his pockets in his hands as his brows furrowed.

“Jungwon?” You quickly moved away from Riki. “What are you doing here?”

“My shift ended early, I thought I’d surprise you.” he was speaking to you, but his eyes weren’t on you; they were on Riki. He didn’t falter, taking another drag of his cigarette as he watched silently. “But I see you’re busy.”

“No, not at all.” you said nervously, taking Jungwon’s hand from inside of his pocket. “I just finished working. Let’s go home.” Jungwon didn’t respond, just turning around, your hand slipping out of his as he strode away from you.

“See you tomorrow.” Riki called after you when you didn’t bid him farewell, and you turned around to give him a glare, before dashing after your displeased boyfriend.

Riki was already making cracks in the foundation of your relationship. And that was exactly what he wanted.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You were wearing his jacket.

Jungwon was certain of it. After two years of living together, he knew your closet inside out; and he had never seen this jacket. The sleeves were too long for you, and they protruded just past your fingers. Jungwon could kill a man. Specifically, that man. After a moment of walking in agonizing silence, he spoke up.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” His cold tone chilled you to the core. You had never really seen Jungwon mad. Sure, you had your fair share of fights, every couple did, but they occurred strangely infrequently. “Who is that guy?”

“Just a classmate.”

“Why was he at your job?” You weren’t sure what degree of the truth you should tell him. You didn’t want him to think you were being unfaithful, that wasn’t it at all.

“He just likes the food, Jungwon.” That wasn’t technically a lie.

“I think he likes more than the food.” Jungwon was refusing to look at you. You had never seen him this put-out over something you did. You wondered if you had done something very wrong by being around Riki.

We’re not gonna be friends, you remembered his words. The smile on his face when he said them, how he sounded like he really meant it.

“Look, he’s just an underclassman. He’s new, just moved here. I’m pretty much his only friend.” Jungwon scoffed.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I feel bad for him.”

“He likes you.”

“But I don’t like him.” You stopped walking and tugged on Jungwon’s sleeve, and for the first time he looked you in the eyes. They were dull, a stark contrast to the usual youthful shine of his eyes. “Jungwon. I only care about you.”

“That can change.”

“No, it can’t.” You pressed a warm hand to his cheek, and you saw his gaze soften. “I’ve loved you faithfully for four years. That’s not going to stop now.” He stayed silent for a moment, then sighed, removing your hand from his face. But he took your hand in his, which you took as a sign that everything would be okay. You looked into each other's eyes, cold air flushing your faces until it began to rain lightly.

“I’m not mad at you.” he said after a moment, his hair dampening from the rain, clinging to his forehead.

You brushed it away from his face and resumed your walk in silence.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You couldn’t be friends with Riki anymore.

You told this to Jungwon, who seemed more content than he had been in the past week. You, however, had a pit in your stomach.

You didn’t know why, but the thought that you would never see Riki again bothered you. His messy hair, proud smile, the scent of his smoky cologne. You weren’t certain why Riki had suddenly become important to you, but you knew it was wrong.

“So, your boyfriend told you you couldn’t see me anymore.” he said, holding his jacket in his hand. It still smelled like his cologne, and a bit like you, and he held it tightly between his fingers. He was frowning, and you realized this was the first time you had seen him without a smug expression on his face.

“No.” you replied. “I decided myself.” He sighed.

“That’s disappointing.”

“C’mon, Riki. You’re pursuing me. I have a boyfriend. It’s wrong.”

“That’s the great thing about life. It’s all about doing what feels right, even if it’s wrong.” he said elusively, and you frowned at him. “You should do what you want.”

“This is what I want.” You could smell his cologne everywhere, that stupid violet and cigarette smoke. It was distracting you from your thoughts.

“I don’t believe that.” You knew he was right, but his obstinance was pissing you off. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t care what you believe. It was nice being friends with you.” you readied yourself to leave, turning when he called after you.

“I told you,” he smiled for the first time during your conversation. “We were never going to be friends.”

It weighed heavy on your mind, but you had other things to worry about.

There was a party this weekend that you and Jungwon would be attending. Parties had never really been your thing, but a part of both of you missed the drunken fun of your time in high school, so when invited, you decided to go together.

It was being thrown by some boy in your year, a man named Jake who was infamous for his ragers, where people would fight to get in, and leave not remembering how they got there. Jungwon was friends with him, and assured you it’d be worth the while, which you hoped was true.

You pulled an old dress out of retirement, a lacy pink number that you hadn’t worn since Jungwon got it for your anniversary a year ago. There was something exciting about bringing it out of your closet, like a new start.

As you put on your earrings, facing the mirror, he circled your waist.

“You look beautiful.” he said, and you turned to kiss him, a chaste kiss that lingered on your lips. You looked back in the mirror, and you weren’t smiling.

Something about this situation felt extremely wrong, and you didn’t know why.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Despite the hectic environment of the party, you actually felt at peace for the first time in the past two weeks. The music was beating in your ribs like a pounding heart, and smoke furled through the air as college students went to-and-fro. Jungwon and you did shots in the kitchen, hands intertwining as you poured vodka down your throat, a burning sensation on your tongue. After a couple more, you were ready to dance.

Jungwon pulled you onto the makeshift dance floor by the hand, and the two of you swayed to the music together. You caught glimpses of faces you recognized, but in this moment, it was just you and him. Locking eyes, twirling and laughing as you erratically danced to the pounding beat of the music.

Eventually, Jungwon got dragged away by a friend of his named Jake, a classmate that he had grown quite close with. You were alone, but you didn’t mind.

You had never been the kind of person to be embarrassed to dance. You felt like yourself when you were dancing, and you didn’t care what company you had; you just enjoyed the feeling of being free underneath the spell of the music.

And then, the crowds shifted, and everything felt still.

There he was. Alone in the center of the floor, holding a bottle of beer in his hand, his free hand moving with the music as he danced rhythmically to the music. Girls tried to dance with him, but he deftly avoided them. The way he moved was entrancing; you had never seen him look so light and airy, as he swayed and rocked, not caring about the people around him. You should’ve known he would be there, you could smell his cologne from a mile away, and suddenly it flooded your senses.

He turned, and as he did, he caught sight of you. His mouth curled into a smile as he continued dancing, and you just watched.

“Come dance with me.” he said to you through the crowds, and though his voice was quiet, you swore it reverberated over the sound of the music. As if in a trance, you walked to him, weaving through hordes of people. Were you drunk, or was he more beautiful than usual?

“What are you doing here?” you asked the instant you reached him.

“Am I not allowed to be here?” he replied. He didn’t stop dancing as he spoke to you, and you felt odd standing still. But you couldn’t bring yourself to dance.

“They usually haze the freshmen.” He gestured to himself with a shrug.

“Well I’m fine, aren’t I?” You didn’t know what to say. A mere two days after swearing you wouldn’t speak to him again, you had already broken your promise to yourself, and you cursed yourself for it. “C’mon, you’re not having any fun. Dance.”

“I don’t want to dance with you.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” he said, but he paid no bother, continuing to dance on his own. You felt the eyes of the people around you as you spoke to him, some jealous, some curious, some judgemental. “Why do you care what people think?” You startled, wondering for a second if he was able to read your mind.

“I don’t.”

“If you didn’t, you’d be dancing with me right now.” He was right. That was the most frustrating thing about him; although he may be self-centered and smug, he was always right. Everything he said about you was as accurate as if he knew you for years.

So, to spite him, you danced.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon had been watching you dance while he was talking to Jake. He liked Jake, he really did, but he found his attention drifting from his conversation to you, swaying carelessly to the beat with a smile on your face.

“Your girlfriend’s cute.” Jake said, gesturing to you with his cup, clearly able to tell that his companion was distracted.Jungwon sighed, pouring himself another hefty drink. He filled it to the brim with rum and orange juice. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, well, she’s cute. That’s the problem.” Jungwon took a sip of his drink and wrinkled his nose at the harsh flavor. “Some guy from one of her classes has been all over her. Some younger dude.”

“The constant struggle of being someone’s boyfriend.” Jake said, clapping him on the back. Jungwon chuckled, taking another sip. “But try not to stress about it, man. You’ve been together for what, four years now?” Jungwon nodded in confirmation. “She’s only got her eyes on you. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Jungwon said, feeling a bit lighter, and a considerable amount woozier. He poured himself another drink despite himself, attempting to tune out the sound of the music. Suddenly, it was too loud, and everything was a little bit too much.

When he looked up, his heart had dropped to his stomach. You were no longer dancing, and it felt as if a spotlight was shining on the man in the center of the dance floor, his hair gloriously messy from the moving crowds, face red from dancing and alcohol. You were speaking, he could tell from the way your lips opened and closed.

Jungwon was seeing red. He felt as though the air was being choked out of him, and he struggled to take a deep breath to center himself. The alcohol felt like acid pumping through his veins as he stared at the two of you through the crowd, buzzing like a live wire. He was angry, but most of all, scared. If you had gone back so easily on your devotion, did that mean something? Did this man mean something to you?

“Jungwon?” Jake called his name but he barely heard it, crumpling his cup and throwing it into the trash as he stormed outside, slamming the door behind him.

Jungwon had been sitting outside on the stairs for nearly ten minutes, and he had managed to cool off.

He had never been so angry in his life. Jungwon wasn’t an angry person, he never had been. He had always been calm and collected, bottling up any rage or resentment he felt until it subsided. But that rage was brewing within him like an overflowing pot, and something about this man brought it out of him.

The smell of cigarette smoke flooded his senses, and he turned. Behind him was the last person he wanted to see, smoking a Marlboro, and Jungwon wondered how he didn’t hear him come outside. His face was still flushed from dancing, and his lips were tinged with the faintest trace of pink lipstick, smudged messily across his mouth.

Jungwon had stood up to go inside when Riki addressed him, saying;

“Hey.” Jungwon didn’t respond. “Looking for your girlfriend?”

“You really get under my skin.” Jungwon grumbled, and Riki smiled. He should handle this like a mature adult, he knew that. So he attempted to. “I would like it if you’d just leave me and y/n alone.”

“Come on, Jungwon. You know that’s not gonna happen.” He tossed the stub of his cigarette to the pavement, crushing it under the heel of his boot. Jungwon didn’t remember telling him his name at any point during their conversation.

“Why,” Jungwon started to speak, feeling like bile was rising in his throat. “Why, out of all girls, does it have to be my girlfriend?” Riki crossed his arms with a smile.

“Because I see her for what she is.” That tipped Jungwon over the edge. He could no longer have this conversation, he couldn’t handle it. He strode to the front door, pulling it open as he rushed into the crowds. “Oh, c’mon,” Riki’s voice haunted him as he followed him inside. “Let’s talk, man to man. I’ll pour you a drink.”

“Get away from me.” Jungwon poured himself another cup and chugged it. He was going to find you, and he was going to end this. He had to end it somehow.

“Let’s not be enemies. It’s just friendly competition.” Riki said.

“What does my girlfriend see in you?” The alcohol was speaking for him now, and he slammed his empty cup on the table. Riki gestured to the dance floor with a smile, and only then did Jungwon realize that the crowds were watching him in anticipation.

“Why don’t you ask her?”

You were watching Jungwon from the dance floor, and the crowds parted like the Red Sea. You were frozen in fear, shaking as you brought a hand up to your lip while Riki snickered. The sound of his laughter faded into the background as Jungwon noticed your smudged pink lipstick.

His fist was in connection with Riki’s face before he could even think about it.

He heard you scream in the background but paid no mind, the crowds chanting ‘fight!’ as the two men tussled. Riki was tall, but Jungwon was stronger. Riki’s mouth spurted blood as Jungwon landed a punch on his face with a sickening crack.

Jungwon’s hand found the counter somehow, and his hand latched onto the handle of a knife, unsheathing it without thinking. Only when he whipped it in Riki’s direction and the crowd gasped in unison did his head clear, and he dropped it, his opponent barely able to kick it away from him in his weakened state.

He wanted to kill him. For a moment, he was truly prepared to kill him, and he almost did.

Jungwon was so shocked with himself that the younger boy was able to pry himself away from his grip, getting to his feet and wiping his mouth.

“Psychopath.” he spat blood, grabbing his jacket from the floor where it had been pulled off, swinging it over his shoulder as he removed another cigarette. But as he walked out the door, he smiled, an ugly smile of sharp teeth and blood.

He had found it. That rotten part of your boyfriend, the reason he didn’t trust him in the first place. He had exposed it, and you had seen the side of him that you didn’t know existed.

He had a feeling that Jungwon didn’t even know that side of himself.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Everyone’s eyes were on Jungwon. You weren’t sure what to say as you stared wide-eyed at your boyfriend. You were terrified. The boy you were in love with had almost stabbed the life out of another person.

You attempted to rationalize it, desperately. You had just publicly cheated on him, and it must’ve been an uncharacteristic display of anger. You’d be angry too if you were him, maybe enough to kill. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“Let’s go.” you managed to say to him, and he brushed himself off, his head low as he roughly pushed through the crowds of people to get to the exit.

Fresh air felt like salvation as he heaved in as much into his lungs as he could. His head was beginning to clear, the adrenaline and rum wearing off as he stood facing the nearly empty streets, hands in his pockets.

“Jungwon,” you began, but he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” he said hollowly, and you bit your tongue, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “Don’t cry, y/n. I can’t take it.”

“It just happened.” you said in a weak defense, and he shook his head again.

You felt hesitant sitting in the front seat with him, but he made no moves to stop you, just reversing the car roughly and pulling out into the street.

It was a silent ride. The kind of silence that made you wonder if the two of you would ever speak again, and you were suddenly struck with the fear that four years may be over in one night. Because of one moment, because of one person.

“Are we gonna be okay?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. His eyes were firmly set on the road, refusing to look at you. He sighed, hands trembling on the wheel.

“I don’t know.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon hadn’t spoken to you for two days.

It was hard to avoid each other, considering you lived in the same apartment. But it was Sunday, and he hadn’t spoken a single word in your direction since you betrayed him two nights previous. And judging from how many times he’d ignored you despite pleas for his attention, he seemed to have no intention of stopping.

You didn’t know what to do, but you couldn’t stand the silence.

“Are you going to leave me?” you finally asked, choking down tears as you sat on the couch. Jungwon was in the kitchen, doing nothing but avoiding you.

“I don’t know.” Jungwon finally spoke, his voice a whisper. Tears began flowing freely from your eyes. “I really don’t know.”

“I know I can’t convince you of anything.” you surrendered, silent sobs escaping your mouth as you cried. “I won’t tell you to stay.”

“I love you, y/n.” Your heart warmed despite your sadness. “More than anything in this god forsaken world. I can’t bear being around you after what you did. But being without you sounds infinitely worse.”

“So what do we do?” He liked that you said ‘we’. It made him feel like you were a team despite what you had put him through. He set down the knife he was holding, his hands trembling as he looked at you. He could barely stand to see you cry.

“We wait.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

It turns out that Riki was the kind of person who fell deeply. He hadn’t been in love his entire life; he hadn’t even believed it existed until a few weeks ago. To him, love was a myth, as imaginary as unicorns or pots of gold at the end of rainbows. It was a concept, not a reality. But that’s the thing about not believing in love; when it hits you, it hits hard. And Riki’s mind was racing with radical thoughts, and mostly images of you.

He had called you twelve times since the party, and you hadn’t picked up once. You didn’t show up to class on Monday. Your boss claimed you called out of work sick when he went to visit the diner.

You were avoiding him. And in his mind, that was the worst possibility. But he wasn’t concerned; he would find you. He would always find you.

He just had to find out where you lived. And to do that he had to find you, which was seeming to be difficult. So he’d do the next best thing.

He would find your boyfriend.

It was difficult to find out anything about Jungwon from the internet. He didn’t seem to have a strong social media presence, but after a bit of searching, he found an account with a small following that seemed to match him. From there, he deduced that Jungwon worked at a tech company with a man named Jay, whose profile indicated that the name of it was Enhypen SK. A quick search told him that its headquarters were located downtown. Riki got into his car.

He rolled a crick out of his neck. He had been waiting outside of the building for hours, watching men and women come in and out, in and out. He sat in the front seat of his car, chair reclined as he observed with unrelenting eyes. Finally, there he was.

Brown hair flying in the wind, a cup of coffee in his shaking hand, the contents spilling over the edge as he walked across the street, holding his jacket above his head to cover himself from the rain. Riki could almost laugh at the perfect businessman cliche.

The building wasn’t on a particularly crowded street. There were no cameras monitoring the traffic, as few cars drove down the road. Riki realized with growing delight that there was nobody in sight but him. And Jungwon.

He was on the curb. Riki put his car into drive. The light turned red. Riki peeled out of his parking spot. Jungwon was in the center of the crosswalk.

Riki accelerated.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You dropped the phone when the hospital told you your boyfriend had been run over by a car. You didn’t have time to think, abandoning the meal you were making, the stove still burning as you snatched your keys off the table and ran out the door without a second’s hesitation.

He thankfully wasn’t dead. They didn’t catch who did it, and Jungwon wouldn’t tell them, if he knew. He had a concussion. Two of his ribs were mildly fractured. He was bleeding internally, but it luckily wasn’t fatal. He had burns along his leg from hot fuel, and a facial laceration from rolling over the shattered windshield, a cut running from the edge of his eyebrow to the apple of his cheek.

The doctors were shocked he was even alive. The perpetrator had hit him at 45 mph, and he rolled over the entire car before hitting the ground. He laid unconscious in the street for 20 minutes, and had to crawl across the street to call for help, refusing to die. Considering his situation, he was lucky; he should’ve been dead.

According to the nurses, he had fought to leave the hospital immediately. He had jumped out of bed the minute he gained consciousness, which shouldn’t have been possible in his state. Only when they demanded he stay did he ask them to call you, and even then, he tried to leave constantly, surprisingly mobile and alert despite being presumed dead.

The staff thought he was a monster.

You ran into his arms the first chance you got, despite the protest from the nurse caring for him. You cried into his chest as he held you, stroking your hair.

“I was afraid you died.” you sobbed, and he shushed you soothingly.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, Jungwon. You don’t deserve this.” He had the feeling you were talking about more than just the car accident. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” he said, staring at the wall as he held you more tightly. When you released him, you checked him for damage, holding his hand in yours.

Besides burns, bruises, and the cuts on his cheek, he seemed surprisingly fine. He was sitting upright, speaking clearly, seemingly fine. But he was staring blankly at you. You saw nothing in his eyes, not a shred of hope, relief, or fear. Nothing, just dull brown marbles in the sockets of his eyes before he turned away from you.

“Who did this?” you asked shakily, and he clenched his jaw.

“I don’t know.” he responded. You weren’t sure if he was telling the truth, maybe lying out of pride or embarrassment. But you weren’t going to ask, not when he was in this state. “You know, I realized something. When I got hit by that car.” You scooted closer to him, brushing the hair out of his face. It was matted with sweat to his forehead.

“What was it?” you asked gently when he didn’t continue.

“They were right. Your life does flash before your eyes when you almost die.” he said quietly. “And you know, all I saw was you. My entire life, in one blink of an eye. That’s when I realized,” He looked at you. “I can’t afford to lose you. Not to anything.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” you said, blinking away more tears.

“I know. I’m going to make sure of it.” You didn’t know how to respond, so you didn’t. “I forgive you. For everything you did. I don’t care about any of it.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I mean it. All that matters is that I have you.” His grip on your hand tightened, and you pursed your lips, pulling him into an embrace. He was cold as ice.

“I’m just happy I still have you with me.” you said hoarsely.

“I’m never going to let anything tear us apart. Never.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon knew exactly who hit him with that car.

He would recognize that face anywhere, even in a brief moment, in a mere second of terror before impact. A flash of those devilish eyes through the windshield. They were the eyes that haunted him, sleeping and waking. And he was determined to get revenge.

This man had changed him. He no longer recognized himself. He looked in the mirror and saw a man haunted by hatred, by anger, and by violence. In his many years of life, he had never despised someone enough to hurt them, and yet every part of him was itching to kill. This was a pest, one that Jungwon was sure to exterminate.

He wasn’t going to tell you anything, no, it would only stress you out. As a couple, you had been through enough recently, and he didn’t want anything else on your plate. You had enough to worry about, with him practically incapacitated.

You visited him every day in the hospital. You slept by his bedside, barely going to class or to your job, just holding his hand as nurses tended to him, doctors flitting in and out of his room. He only had three days left in the hospital until he was discharged.

But he couldn’t wait.

You were dead asleep on the chair beside his bed, your eyes shifting underneath their lids. The room was empty. He ripped the IV out of his arm, getting to his feet.

Under any other circumstances, he shouldn’t have been able to walk. But Jungwon felt stronger than he ever had as he walked through the halls barefoot, his hospital gown fluttering in the wind like a ghost. He walked out of the hospital doors unnoticed, the concrete scraping against his bare feet as he started the walk home.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon owned a gun. It was something he never shared with you; he knew you despised violence. But he was a paranoid person by nature and the idea of a home invader, serial killer, a stalker, frightened him enough to need protection, a Colt Mustang XSP stored securely under the bottom panel of his bedside table. He needed to protect you; it was his god given duty. Fate had brought you together, and he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you.

He used whatever strength he had to remove the panel of wood, feeling around until his hand reached the hollow barrel of the gun.

Jungwon was a good shot. His father had taken him to a shooting range once a month from the ages of 10 to 18, god knows why. But he noticed something quickly about himself; he always hit the target.

One time, the supervisor at the range had told him he saw something dark in him. He had said Jungwon might not show it, but once in a while, when he was holding that gun, he could see it in his eyes. It wasn’t a good feeling, to hear that as a 16 year old. But now, he was beginning to consider the possibility.

Besides what you had told him, he knew virtually nothing about Riki. He didn’t know his dreams, his accomplishments, his past, not even his age. This didn’t bother Jungwon, in fact, it made him more relieved than anything. The less he knew, the better. It would make it all easier.

And now it was time to visit the little pest.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki was disappointed. In you, for ignoring him. In himself, for not finishing the job. And mostly in Jungwon, for refusing to die. He hit him at 45 miles per hour, that should’ve killed him. When he visited the hospital under the guise that he was his cousin, they told him he was bleeding internally, that it might be fatal. And yet, he was alive. He knew it for a fact; Riki waited outside the hospital until you showed up. And you didn’t leave, you never left. Which meant Jungwon was still in there.

It seemed like Jungwon would need something more fatal, which was upsetting. It was the perfect set up; the street was empty, there were no cameras, no witnesses. Jungwon wouldn’t live to tell the tale. Riki prayed that Jungwon didn’t recognize him, if he did, he’d surely tell you. Then he’d really lose you for good.

He was parked outside the hospital for the third day in a row, just waiting to catch you alone. He hoped your boyfriend was in a coma, maybe unable to speak, maybe mentally damaged. He rolled his shoulders, tense with worry and from sitting in the leather seat for so long. The hood of his old silver car was bent from the impact of Jungwon’s body slamming against it, and his license plate was barely hanging on for dear life. He didn’t pay attention to it.

The only thing he cared about was ending him for good.

On the other side of the city, Jungwon had just walked into the housing office of his university. The door creaked as he forced it open, his shoes clicking on the tile floor. He knew a man who worked in the office, a friend of his who played secretary at the front desk. That was the nice thing about being a good person; you make connections everywhere you go.

“Sunghoon.” Jungwon said, and his voice was hollow. The man looked up from his keyboard, pushing his glasses up his forehead with a faint smile.

“Hey,” he said in greeting. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I need a favor.” Sunghoon was immediately concerned with Jungwon’s appearance. He had changed from his gown into normal clothes, but the open cut on his face and the bags under his eyes told the story of what had happened to him. Bruises were littered across his right cheek, and a part of his hair was singed, just below the ear, barely noticeable. He stumbled on his left leg when he walked and he held his ribs tightly with one of his hands.

“Are you okay?” Sunghoon asked with concern.

“I got hit by a car.” he said, and Sunghoon frowned.

“Jesus.” “I need an address.” Sunghoon gestured for him to continue. He knew he wasn’t supposed to give away information like this, but Jungwon was trustworthy. Throughout their friendship, he had shown he was a kind man. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. “Freshman named Riki Nishimura.” Sunghoon’s fingers flew across his keyboard.

“Edge of town. Building code is 3405, apartment 2.” Sunghoon recited off the screen, his glasses back on his nose as he read.

“Thanks.” Jungwon said, turning on his heel.

“Don’t you want me to write it down for you?” Sunghoon called after him, and he waved him off, swinging the door open.

“I’ll remember it.”

And he did. Twenty minutes later, he was parked outside.

It was the kind of apartment that had separate units and entrances. The other three apartments seemed completely empty, and the neighborhood seemed practically deserted, if you could even call it a neighborhood. There were two houses down the road, one of which was boarded up, the other was for sale. Then a dead end, the street abruptly stopping in brick and barbed wire. It was good for Jungwon’s situation. It wasn’t like he wanted anyone to hear what he was about to do.

He got out of his car, hand deep in the recesses of his jacket. He rapped on the door, once, twice, thrice. Then he removed the gun from the waistline of his pants, cocking it in a fluid motion and shooting off the lock.

Metal scraps exploded across the steps of the apartment, and the doorknob hung loosely from its socket, the metal lock missing a keyhole, replaced with a burning hot cavity. Jungwon turned the doorknob, and the door swung open easily.

“House call,” he said, his voice echoing around the empty apartment. “Anyone home?” He peeked his head into the kitchen, the living room. Nobody. His free hand fingered the case of bullets in his jacket pocket. He brought the gun for intimidation only; he didn’t think Riki would be stupid enough to make him use it. But he had 17 rounds left in the magazine of his pistol, and he was planning to spend them all if necessary.

It didn’t seem like Riki was home. Jungwon cracked his neck, irritated. He had run out of the hospital on injured legs and a fractured rib, just to be disappointed. He wondered where Riki could possibly be, and hoped he wasn’t anywhere near you.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, keeping his gun by his side. He had 27 missed calls and 45 missed texts, and they were all from you. He tucked it away, trying to push the thought of you out of his head.

He was doing this for you. You’d understand that.

While he was there, he figured he might as well look around. After all, Riki didn’t seem to be home, and he had gone through the effort of blowing off his locks. He creeped up the stairs cautiously, careful to keep his gun ahead of him before he took a step. On the right, there was a bathroom, grimy in the way expected of a teenage boy. On the left was Riki’s room. His closet was the largest thing in the room, stacked to the brim with clothing. It seemed like Riki preferred designer brands over an expensive apartment, and Jungwon pocketed a silver watch sitting on his bedside table.

There was only one more room at the end of the hall. Its door stood slightly ajar, and he could see beams of sun hitting the chestnut floor through the slit. Jungwon walked cautiously towards it, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he pushed the door open.

His eyes widened, pupils dilated. He instinctively took a step back, his gun clattering to the floor as his gaze flitted from the ceiling to the floor, wall to wall. He recoiled from the room, as if it would infect him, shivering with fear. He hadn’t seen anything like this. Not from anyone.

Jungwon’s own eyes watched him from every corner of the room. Photos of himself lined the walls, sporadically pasted against the blue wallpaper. Some were photos he had taken of himself, some that you had taken, accessible through his socials. But the vast majority were photos he had never seen, taken from afar of him at the grocery store inspecting a peach, chatting with a classmate in class, working at his job, his face lit up by his computer on the second floor.

And in the center of the room was you. Your face was painted on a canvas, big enough to almost reach Jungwon’s height, painted intricately with the hand of someone who truly loved their subject. It was as if you were alive and breathing before him, and for a minute, he admired you despite himself. Scrawled at the bottom of the canvas were a mere five words;

I have to save her.

Jungwon was horrified. He felt sick to his stomach with the sudden urge to vomit, and he attempted to control himself, breathing shallowly as he bent to pick up his gun. He aimed it shakily, and it was the first time he trembled while holding a pistol in his hands. He fired ten rounds, each scarring the wall as they tore through the canvas.

Your face was a mess of torn paper and sizzling paint when he was done, and it pained him to see. Jungwon grit his teeth, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his pants as he turned around to exit this god forsaken house.

Now Riki really had to die.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki arrived home, and the first thing he noticed was the ten bullets sitting underneath the window of his painting room. If he had walked past just a bit faster, if he wasn’t looking at the ground, he would’ve missed them. But he didn’t, and he bent down to pick them up, the casings barely still warm. When he looked up, there were ten matching holes in the wall. He was immediately on high alert.

When he removed his keys from his pocket, he quickly realized he didn’t need them. Shards of protruding metal, burnt black at the edges, became what once was the lock to his door. The wooden door was ajar, and he opened it as quietly as possible.

He slipped off his shoes at the door, his footsteps silent as he walked through his home. His living room and kitchen looked completely untouched. His nerves burning with fear, Riki reached for a knife, his trembling hands gripping the handle as the metal glinted in whatever dim daylight remained as the sun began to fall below the horizon.

The stairs moaned under his feet as he walked towards the room at the end of the hallway. It didn’t look like anyone had even entered his home; everything was the way he left it. But when he opened the door to that room, he felt like he could cry.

Ten bullet holes. Ten scarred, singed cavities in your gaping face, the canvas torn and burned until you were completely unrecognizable.

His art. The only thing he had been living for. It was destroyed, and he knew exactly who to blame. Tears ran down his face as he approached it, the knife forgotten in his hand while he caressed the mutilated canvas.

I have to save her. Those scrawled words remained untouched at the bottom of his creation, and he ran his hand over them. They rang true.

If Jungwon did this, and Riki knew he did, then he was dangerous. And that meant he had to save you before you ended up like the shredded painting he had so devoutly adored.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon had fled the hospital without warning at 5:32 pm. It was 9:00 pm, and you hadn’t heard a word from your boyfriend

You were worried sick. He was hurt, too hurt to be wandering the streets, getting into fights, doing whatever he was doing. You checked his work, but they hadn’t caught sight of him since he left, on the day he was almost killed. None of his teachers had heard from him, nor had his friends. You must’ve called him a hundred times, and not once did he pick up. So, despite yourself, you did the only thing you could think of.

It’s not like you couldn’t guess who’d hit your boyfriend with their car. Jungwon’s unwillingness to tell you about the accident was an immediate red flag, not to mention his sudden switch in attitude. His workplace was in an isolated, corporate area where not many people drove, and it seemed too convenient to be an accident. Not many people had a vendetta against Jungwon, he was too kind to have enemies; except one.

He picked up on one ring, and the other side of the phone was quiet except for the gentle sound of his breathing.

“Riki,” you said, attempting to stabilize your trembling voice. “Let’s meet.”

Riki didn’t ask any questions. He agreed without hesitation, and a part of you almost felt bad. After all, what if he didn’t hit him? What if you were wrong?

But you couldn’t afford to doubt yourself, and you tucked a canister of pepper spray into your pocket before grabbing your keys and running downstairs. In case Jungwon was in trouble, you didn’t have any time to waste.

You were so distracted, you had even forgotten it was Halloween.

You had asked Riki to meet you across town. You knew there was a large construction lot a couple miles behind your school, where nobody ever visited, rarely even the construction workers, especially not at this hour. You needed to get him in a place where nobody would hear you. If he was willing to admit anything that had happened between him and Jungwon, he wouldn’t do it in front of an audience.

You could feel his presence before you saw him. When you heard his slow footsteps through the soft, unpaved ground, it felt like the world had gone black. Something in him had changed. You used to feel joy and love at the sound of his voice and the scent of his cologne, but now it made you uneasy.

“Y/n?” he said, and you saw the dark silhouette morph into his fine features and unkempt hair as he stepped closer. He stopped a few paces away from you, and you attempted to smile.

Before you knew it, he had pulled you into his arms, and you were swimming in his leather jacket, his grip almost painful. The scent of violets and cigarettes drowned you. You felt like you could throw up.

“I’ve been so worried about you.” his voice trembled as he spoke, and you gradually wrapped your arms around him. “Where have you been?”

“The hospital.” you said, your voice a whisper. He released you, and the confused look in his eyes was almost enough to convince you he was innocent. “Jungwon…he got hit by a car.”

“Is he alright?”

“No. But we’ll be okay.” Riki didn’t like that you said ‘we’. It seemed you didn’t care if your boyfriend had almost killed him. It was like he didn’t matter to you.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” he asked in hushed tones.

“I didn’t know what to think.” You wiped away a tear, not even knowing you were crying. “After what happened that weekend-”

“He almost killed me.”

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” There was hurt in his eyes, and you didn’t recognize him. The smug, arrogant boy you had known was nowhere to be seen.

“How can you say that?” You shook your head, wiping away more tears. “I don’t care about him, y/n. We have something special.”

“Riki, I can’t.”

“Don’t I matter to you?” he implored, reaching for your hand, holding it tightly like he might not get the chance ever again. He wouldn’t.

“Of course you do. But Riki, I don’t love you.”

“That’s a lie!” he shouted, and the sudden switch in volume made you shudder in fear. “You do love me. You’re just afraid.”

“Of what, Riki? Of you? I’m not scared, I’m an adult, I know what I want. You’re just a confused boy who thinks he’s in love with a girl he can’t have.”

“That’s not true.” he said it so willfully, you almost believed him. “You don’t understand, you just don’t understand. Since I met you, you’re all I can think about. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. I even-” He cut himself off. He froze, and the only sound was the cold wind as you two stared at each other.

“Even?” you whispered, and he set his jaw.

“I even tried to kill him.”

You felt like your world was crashing down around you. You had imagined a million possibilities in your relationship with Riki. You had imagined kicking him to the curb, indulging in his affections until he got bored, you even imagined leaving Jungwon for him. But in none of your fantasies had you believed him capable of murder.

Your eyes widened in terror, lips trembling, and he could sense your fear.

“Don’t be scared.” he said, coming closer, and you took a step back. “I’m not a killer, y/n. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“But you tried to.” you said, and his eyes darkened. “You tried to kill my boyfriend. You’re not in love with me, Riki, someone who loved me wouldn’t try to do that. That’s not love, it’s obsession.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You don’t know what you’re doing.” You grew closer to him, placing a warm hand against his cheek. “You have a life outside me. We’re young. Don’t waste your time chasing me and hurting people.”

“Don’t say that,” he repeated, his eyes red with suppressed tears. “I would do anything for you. I love you, I’ve never felt that way about anyone.” You attempted to pay attention to what he was saying, but a twig cracked in the background, drowned out by the sound of his words, but you were listening. You looked over his shoulder. “I can’t be away from you, y/n, I can’t take it.”

“Riki, I can’t be with you. Not now, not ever.”

“Is it because of Jungwon?” he asked, and you shook your head. “I don’t care who’s in my way. I’ll take care of it.”

A ghostly face appeared in the distance, just barely lit enough for you to recognize him. That scar on his face, those bright doe eyes turned dull, you knew that face anywhere. Riki continued to speak, and Jungwon put a silent finger over his mouth.

Something about this situation was wrong. You had this overwhelming sense of terror, and it had its claws around your lungs, draining you of all the breath and blood in your body. Every nerve and cell in your body was screaming, writhing restlessly in white hot pain. Jungwon stepped closer, and your shoulders shook fearfully.

“Riki. I don’t want you to hurt him.” you said, and Riki grabbed your face, his cold fingers gently gripping your chin.

“I don’t care.” he said, and his words cut you like a knife. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You belong with me.”

There was a barrel of a gun, and you felt a strangled scream rising in your throat when you saw that Jungwon was holding it. And the edge of it was directly pointed at the back of Riki’s head.

You tried to scream, you tried to warn him, but there was no time. You dropped to your knees as the blast rang through the empty air, a flash of white and red lighting up the air like fireworks as you covered your ears. An explosion of blood wet the ground, painted strokes of crimson hitting your face and shoes. A silent scream escaped your mouth as Riki’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor inches from where you sat, as terribly beautiful as ever, his wide and fear-stricken eyes immortalized as he stared at you. The last thing he loved before he died.

It was funny, seeing a human die. You thought that you would cry, wail, kick and scream as you brutally mourned the life of someone you had loved. A life that ended in an instant, as easy as pulling a trigger. But you didn’t cry. You just sat there, helpless and silent, waves of grief, dread, anger, every emotion running through you as your eyes and mouth went dry with fear.

Jungwon was a new man. He stood above you, not even looking at the man he had just killed, only looking at you. His eyes seemed black in the night, unforgiving and unapologetic as he gripped the gun in his hand, the barrel covered in blood.

Pools of crimson blood soaked into the soft ground as Riki laid unmoving, the contents of his head spilled across the dirt. His mouth was open in a silent plea, one that nobody would hear, not even God.

Jungwon kneeled in front of you, and a single tear ran down his face as he desperately searched your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Oh, God.” you said, your voice hollow and unrecognizable.

“I’m sorry.” he said, and for the first time in months, he sounded fully alive. His voice regained its fullness, no longer slouching and frowning, radiating the power he had lost. “I had to do it. You know I had to.” His hands were covered in blood. There were splatters across his face, and you couldn’t distinguish between the blood running from his own cuts and the blood of the man he had just killed. You felt an overwhelming urge to vomit, and you gagged as you tried to hold it back.

“Jungwon,” you said, voice breaking midway through as you began to cry salty tears. “God, Jungwon, oh my God.”

You had no fight left in you. You felt like a hollow shell as you sat there on the floor, the man whom you loved soaked in the blood of someone you had called a friend. Maybe more than that. You wished you could disappear, that everything would go away, that this would have never happened.

“I’m sorry.” he said, and he pulled you into an embrace.

Despite feeling repulsed by his touch, you craved his skin and his love, so you let him hold you in his blood stained clothes, you let his soiled hands stroke your hair until it was wet with blood.

“I told you,” he said, quietly. “I would never let anything tear us apart.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond, just sobbing until you couldn’t anymore, until the life and tears were drained out of you, until your heart felt like it would stop. Jungwon held you, his own heart beating as fast as lightning, the breath of life rushing through him. Riki didn’t move an inch, didn’t come back to life no matter how hard you cried. And Jungwon was delighted.

Maybe there was something dark in Jungwon. Or maybe he was sane, in a world where you have to do unspeakable things to protect what you love.

And as he held you, sobbing in the night air, your tears mingling with the blood on your face, he began to realize he was just a man. A sick man.

Just as bad as the rest of them.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

back to the masterlist.

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7seas-of-ryy · 9 days ago

Text

Crestfallen - Part 3

Author’s Note: I made up a lot of sicknesses/random things that have never been mentioned throughout the actual ACOTAR series! The breaks in text are going back and forth between the two rooms.

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 3 Summary: Clara has been found out, but what has she done to you?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean." Clara said softly, a small confused smile on her lips.

"When I asked you to help her, you said "I didn't do this one." What does that mean." Nesta snarled at the young healer.

Mor seemed deep in thought, Azriel and Cassian were equally confused, and Nesta seemed ready to pounce.

"Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing her say that." Mor spoke up.

"You better tell us what's up right now." Cassian growled.

At this point, Clara's smile faultered. She looked around for a way out but noticed the four of them had her surrounded and they wouldn't stop until they knew the truth. She may be evil but she wasn't dumb.

"It wasn't even that bad." The healer confessed.

"What have you done?" Azriel questioned, his voice deadly calm.

------

Madja had seen cases like yours before but never this bad. The cut on your back had traces of venom in it. A rare venom that used the victim's power against them.

She needed to extract every last ounce of it that was in your system but it was trickier than it sounded. If she took too much too fast, it could essentially tear your powers from your very being which would kill you.

"I need you to enter her mind. Once you are in, I will start to remove the poison from her system, you just need to let me know if her mind starts fading." Madja explained to Rhys.

"Are you sure this will work?" Rhys asked.

"Of course I am, boy. Now do as I say." She said quickly.

Rhys tried to enter your mind but all he could see was blinding light. There was no where for him to enter, it was almost as if the light was burning him. He pulled away, never feeling anything like it before.

"I can't get in, her light, it burns me." He explained to the healer.

"Listen to me. It might burn a bit but you will be fine. On the other hand, if we don't fix her right now her light will continue to burn brighter until it has consumed her. Perhaps we could get the shadowsinger in here to help." Madja told Rhys, hoping Azriel's shadows could help.

Rhys immediately spoke to Az through his mind and he appeared within seconds.

"What can I help with?" He rushed out his question.

"I cannot enter her mind, it is too bright, painfully so. Could you somehow use your shadows to help me get through?" Rhys explained the situation.

"I can try." Az responded.

------

Cassian looked towards where Azriel just stood, knowing he went to help you.

"I have no clue what's wrong with Y/N, honest. I swear I didn't think it would go this far." Clara pleaded with the group.

"You better start explaining before I unleash Nesta upon you." Cassian threatened.

Nesta had been eerily still, like a predator hunting her prey. Clara was visibly scared. Her hands were shaking, terrified of what Nesta would do to her.

"Ok listen. I've had a huge crush on Azriel for years now, so when I saw you guys needed another healer I took that as my opportunity." The "healer" explained.

"We've only known you for 2 weeks, how could you have a crush on him for years?" Mor asked.

"Everyone knows Azriel, the mighty shadowsinger, the feared spymaster of the Night Court. Well...when I met him all he wanted to talk about was Y/N. About how much I'd love her personality, how she's so great," Clara went on, "so I was a little jealous of her."

By this point, Mor was dissappointed she didn't believe you. She assumed you were exhausted from your mission and the guilt she felt was awful.

"When she showed up to my shop I got angry that she was back so soon. Rhys wanted me to do a check up on her and all I saw was a tiny cut on her back so I thought she'd be fine and I just wanted her to leave." She continued to explain.

Nesta was fuming by this point. Not only because of what she did to her friend but also because she didn't see through Clara sooner.

"Wait wait wait, all this is happening to Y/N because you're jealous of her? What kind of vile creature are you?" Cassian seathed.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen-" She began to plead when Azriel appeared in the room again.

------

Rhys re-entered your mind, this time with Azriel's shadows being a protective barrier around him. It was way easier this time but he wasn't sure how long Az could hold it.

"Alright, start." Rhys told Madja.

The healer began her work. Unweaving the venom from your powers, from your soul. She was about halfway through when Rhys called out.

"STOP! I can feel her fading!" Rhys was panting, he was exerting all his energy.

Madja pulled out, confusion taking over.

"This doesn't make sense. It's as if another energy is pulling her powers. Like an untouched ball of energy using up the rest of her." She explained.

"What do we do?" Azriel questioned.

"It needs another energy form to pull from..." She started.

"My shadows." He whispered.

Before anyone could stop him he sent them out to you and that little ball inside of you immediately began to absorb them. He screamed out in pain and Rhys and Madja quickly began to work.

It took only a few moments more for Madja to finish yet it felt like an eternity for the two males. It had been way easier now that Az was distracting whatever it was inside of you. The venom was successfully extracted and the room was eerily quiet. Rhys and Az both fell back, feeling drained from using their powers in such a way.

"Why isn't she waking up?" The shadowsinger whispered, making his way toward you.

"It must have to do with whatever is deep inside her. I need to do a full body work up on her to see what is going on." She spoke and started right away.

Az felt a tear slide down his cheek and quickly brushed it away. The High Lord stayed back to give you space to be checked out but he felt the same as the male next to him, worried and hopeless.

It felt like an eternity when Madja spoke up again.

"There is a substance inside her nose. Almost like a powder but I haven't seen it before. I'll have to take it back with me to break the molecules down. I'm afraid Y/N will have to stay in this state for now." She told the two males.

Azriel's head shot toward Madja at her words.

"Wait, did you say a powder was in her nose?" He muttered.

She just nodded her head in response, holding up the sample she collected. Your words from earlier popped into his head.

"Y/N told me 'she blew some powder in my face which caused everything'." Azriel stated coldly and winnowed away.

------

The shadowsinger appeared in front of Clara, his shadows surrounding her and pinning her against the wall. She shrieked in either pain or fear but he didn't care. You were in danger and he would stop at nothing to help you.

"What did you blow in Y/N's face?" He demanded.

"What?!" She feigned innocence.

Azriel held up the vial of powder close to her face. His shadows squeezed tighter around her frame.

"It's nothing serious," She weezed out, "It's a mix of vamire, spitfire aconite, and root of igranium. All it's supposed to do is heighten the pain/sickness they already have. I had an antidote that I gave her. It's in my bag."

Mor quickly grabbed the bag from the female, searching for both the powder and the antidote. She handed them both to Az.

"And why would you posion her just to give her an antidote?" Cass asked.

"I wanted to impress Azriel." She whimpered looking down.

"What's in the antidote?" Az shouted at her making her flinch.

"A..Adlirin and G..G..Green Gilliflower." She sputtered in terror.

The shadows left along with their master and she fell to the floor.

------

"Both of these are in her system," Az spoke holding the vials, "Vamire, Spitfire Aconite, Root of Igranium, Aldirin, and Green Gilliflower."

Madja's eyes grew wide and a bad feeling shot through both Az and Rhys at her reaction.

"This isn't good." She said, looking over your unconscious form.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @theravenphoenix26

@anoneyesee @ren-ni @kabekusa @isa1b2h3 @i-am-infinite

@historygeekqueen @mariahoedt @fr0stf4ll

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

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renren-006 · 9 days ago

Text

Doctors Magic | Lucius Verus x fem reader

plot: a doctor (previous gladiator) catches Lucius eye. A friendship forms and maybe more. Macranis is an envious man, an evil man.

warning: not historically accurate, violence, fluff, a littleangst

Word count (very long story): 6900 Words

a/n: Here is another story because this man is consuming my every waking moment! My friend said she would go see the movie with me again, and I'm excited about that. (I have to wait a few weeks tho) So until I can see my man on the big screen again, please enjoy my stories!! This is a really long one that took me a few days to finalise so please enjoy this long story!

Other Lucius Stories: Familiar Eyes Emperor Lucius

Ravi wandered into your makeshift home in one of the back cells of the gladiatorial pits. Your room was filled with a desk, a bed, and a closet. You didn't have much, but it was enough to feel like a home. You had no home of your own and no family now, so the cells became your refuge. After your own gladiator days and winning your freedom, you worked with Ravi and became a doctor.

A sheet hung over the cell door, along with a little sign saying “Welcome” or “Leave.” It was short, but it got through to the boys.

“I am telling you, more and more stubborn men in this place,” he said as he sat down. You turned from your desk, a book left open. “This new one, you would like him”

“Oh, would I?” you asked, facing towards the man who sat in your patient chair. “How do you know what I like?”

“I have eyes, femina. I see what you watch” he told you wiggling his finger at you, “and this one would make you…”

“I do not need you insinuating anything about my feelings, Ravi,” you told him. You got up from the chair and walked past him to the door. You peered out of your cell, which looked towards the training grounds. “Where?” Ravi got up and pointed towards the man. He was practicing his fighting against another gladiator, their swords crashing into one another.

“Am I right?” Ravi questioned, leaning slightly over their shoulder. You smiled up at the man, a brother of sorts to you now. “I…Maybe,” you told him, looking back at the brown-haired gladiator. “He looks troubled,” you noticed. This man looked as if he cared so much on his shoulders. The burdens of his past seeped into his being. Ravi nodded as he exited your tiny home, traveling back towards the gates where the other gladiators fresh out of the sun needed help. You took the morning off to be able to read a new book you had acquired. You watched the new gladiator fight from your door until he felt your eyes and turned to look at you. Dipping back into your room, you returned to your book before you made a fool of yourself by watching this man. Unfortunately, only so much could keep you attentive to your book as one of the boys traveled up to your door, another day of saving lives.

You knew most of the men who worked and played here. Macranis was one of these men, always trying to worm his way into your life. He had not been the one to bring you in, a champion. He was so irritated and jealous of his competitor that it was rumored he had the man killed and took the slaves he owned. This was a rumor, of course. You knew this man was trouble no less and kept him further than an arm's length away. The problem with your avoidance is his insistence that you join his gatherings and events and even watch the games alongside him. You couldn't avoid it even when Ravi offered to cover for you and say you were not feeling well and were under the doctor's orders to stay in bed.

That was where you sat that afternoon, watching the gladiatorial games beside Macranis in the emperor's box. Knowing you would be watching the boys get injured and be unable to treat them because of these obligations haunted you. You shifted uncomfortably in those lavish chairs.

“How nice of you to join us again y/n,” Geta spoke, “always nice to have a favored victor in our box”

“The pleasure is all mine. I am pleased to be able to sit here with your allowance, Emperor Caracalla and Geta,” you told them, sucking up to the emperors. They both looked at you with some form of hunger. You did your best to swallow your disgust down. Macranis's hand came into view as he put it onto your arm.

“I am thankful you allowed my request to have her join us,” Macranis said to them.

“For our friends, of course,” Caracalla said in a sing-song voice. You smiled, fakely, at the emperors and Macranis before focusing back on the game in front of you.

Just as you did, the new gladiator stepped out into the arena with a few others following. When he glanced up at the box and his eyes cast over everyone, they stopped when they landed on you. You both watched each other briefly before he looked back to the arena to see who he was fighting. The man atop the rhino left the gates, and you gasped slightly. As the fight continued and the gladiator continued winning, you could see him calculating his next move. As the rhino charged, he threw the gravel and rolled the other way. The gladiator on top of the rhino had no choice but to leave it and fight your gladiator on the ground.

“Mercy, Mercy,” shouts rose from the crowd; they did not wish to see him killed.

“Mercy,” you spoke, as did Lucilla. The woman's eyes met yours, and a small smile was placed there. She was a woman that many would underestimate, but you could tell she was the smartest one here. You smiled back at Marcus Aurellius' daughter.

“Your life has been spared,” Geta said to your gladiator. “I would sooner face your blade than be given Roman mercy,” he yelled back right before he killed the man in front of him and stumbled back down to the ground. You could see his wounds and knew you had to tend to them.

“I must take my leave; my boys need me,” you told the others. The General and his lovely wife, Lucilla, gave you a smile. Macranis, however, looked displeased.

“They will survive one more game without you,” he said matter-of-factly. You shook your head.

“After this last battle, I'm afraid I must insist,” you said as you rose, to which Macranis grabbed your arm.

“Then I will see you at my ball tonight,” Macranis implied. He had a way with words where they sounded like questions, but really, he wasn't asking.

“As you wish”

Back with the gladiators, you found your way to the gladiator's room. He sat there watching his arm bleed. When he noticed you had arrived, he stiffened.

“Come, I should fix that arm of yours,” you said, motioning for him to follow you back to your room. Hanno nodded and followed suit. He sat in the chair beside yours and propped his arm on the table. “You're going to want to take a big whiff of this; it's for the pain,” you told him while holding up a tiny dish with smoking opium. He only nodded and sniffed right before you put the needle into his arm.

“Damn woman,” he said to you, and you chuckled.

“I have heard worse,” you told him, “Tell me, gladiator, what is your name?” “Hanno,” he grunted, his teeth showing the pain he was in regardless of the opium flowing through him.

“Well, Hanno, I am y/n,” you told him, trying to make conversation while you stitched him up. You looked up to see Hanno nod at you in acknowledgment.

“Why were you with Macranis?” he asked you. You looked up to meet his eyes. His blue eyes were almost consumed by his pupils, high off the opium. He looked at you sweetly, swaying slightly in the chair.

“A request I couldn't afford to refuse,” you told him. Hanno was quiet after that, letting you finish stitching him up and tend to his other injuries. Once you were done, you sat back, seeing Hanno leave. “I look forward to seeing you fight again, Hanno,” you told him.

“I look forward to being in your care again,” he told you, that you were left alone in your room once again.

Macranis required you to join his party, and it was almost required after you left early from the games. You wore one of your more elegant dresses and headed for his estate. Once there, you made your way inside and saw the rest of the elite of Rome. You felt entirely out of place. Macaronis made it his job once he knew you had joined to keep you at his side. As the hours ticked by, you felt more and more ready to leave and return to the gladiators. Soon Macranis led you away and into a room out of wandering eyes.

“I should get going,” you told the man, hoping to avoid anything he was panning or even the conversation you were being brought into.

“Do you not wish to stay with me?” he asked smoothly. You felt your skin crawl at his words. You did not want to keep being alone with this man.

“As much as I enjoy your company, I need to go so I am ready for the games tomorrow and my job,” you told the man. He didn't like that answer. You began to get a bit worried, looking twords the doorway.

“Stay,” he commanded. You wanted to run as his hands clasped over your arms. He was too close, and you turned your head.

“I must leave,” you tried again. His only response was to grab your face and turn it to look at himself. As he got closer and closer to you, you decided to push him off you. Macranis stumbled back. “I said I must go,” you said again. As you turned to leave, Macranis grabbed your hand and pulled you back. His fist flew towards you. It rang through your skull, making you stumble. You haven't been punched well since you won your freedom. The slap that followed was harsh. He grabbed your face in his hands again.

“Next time I offer you a spot by my side, do not push me away,” he said, and he kissed your cheek, “I won't be as…kind about my violence next time.”

Once the man let go, you sprinted out the part, never making eye contact with anyone there, knowing your abrupt departure probably caused no one to turn.

You stumbled back into the gladiator's arena. Your dress was disorganized, your hair a mess, and you could feel the forming bruise deepening on your cheek. The cut on your lip made you wince, and you didn't even want to know how you looked. As you made your way past the training grounds, you could see Hanno, your gladiator, training. He looked at you as he heard the footsteps, and you could see you did not look well by the look in his eyes. You turn your head fast and quicken your pace to your cell. He followed.

“What happened?” he asked at your doorway. You had just sat on your bed when he rounded to your door. You didn't say anything, and I'm still unsure if your voice would work. The ability to put what happened into words was hard. Hanno came inside the room, closer to you now. “Who did this?” “Macranis,” you spoke lightly. Finally, finding your voice. You looked up at him, a wordless plea for him to sit beside you. Hanno came over to your bed, sitting gently next to you.

“I will kill him for you, if you wish,” he said; you laughed a little but winced slightly when your lips upturned. A small subtle joke to lighten the mood. The undertones of the offer hung in the air. “What shall I use to help?” he asked.

You motioned with your hand to the rag on your table, a small bowl of water and ointment you knew would help your lips from becoming infected. Hanoo gently did as instructed and cleaned your lip, cheek, and the cuts on your forehead. Once done, he put a small amount of ointment in your lip and a small torn piece of cloth to help it stay. You were grateful for his help.

“Thank you, Hanno,” you told him. He only nodded. You could hear the guards rounding up the others to get them into their cells. “As much as I enjoy your company, I'm afraid it is your bedtime.”

“That time again,” he told you getting up from next to you, “I will see you tomorrow, y/n”

“Sleep well Hanno”

The next day, you woke up to a bruised cheek, split lip, and a pounding headache. You dressed fast, set your hair up in a hairdo that wouldn't aggravate the headache, and headed out. YOu passed by the other gladiators and stopped by Ravis set up.

“You mind?” you asked him. Ravi looked up from his unpacking to rush over to you.

“y/n! What on the gods happened.” “I can not speak his name right now,” you said, glancing around at the guards. Ravi quickly understood, having known about Macranis and the rumors. Ravi motioned you to sit as he worked on your split lip. He stitched it up once and washed it to disinfect it. The bruise, however, couldn't be helped much. He put a light amount of bast to help, but that was all he could do.

“I am sorry for this,” he told you. You shook your head, knowing it was never his fault.

“Should have seen Hanno. Looked as if he wanted to rip the man's head off”

“He saw?”Ravi asked surprised. “He helped,” you told him simply. “Gladiator tending to his doctor, what an interesting turn of event.s”

“Did I not say you would like him” Ravi said. You chuckled and nodded your head. That day you didnt join Macranis inside the emperors box. You did not leave the grounds for many days, deciding keeping to be around the gladiators was safer than the world beyond those walls.

“Are you from Rome?” Hanno asked. You looked up twords the man. You had sat yourself outside by the training grounds. Another one of the books you remembered your father reading was in your hands. Hanno had walked over from where he was training to join you. As you looked twords the sky, you realized how the afternoon had slowly started to turn to night. Many of the other gladiators had already left.

“Yes,” you told him, “I used to live just outside of Rome.” “How did you end up here?” he asked curiously. “My father. He was not well-liked,” you told the man. Hanno sat next to you, obviously wanting to know more. “He was a political speaker, always talked about the good words of Marcus Aurelius and how our Rome should be as he speaks. It is as they say; his words were real until the moment they were talked about, and then it became a whisper once again.n” “What happened to him?” “He was killed. Right here at the coliseum, actually,” you told him. You remembered the moment he died, standing close to him on that gravel arena. Your father spoke no words at that moment but looked to the sky as he was killed. After that, you were instead sentenced to be a slave to the games. “I was forced into the games after that, and my mother was long dead before any of this.”

“Im sorry” he told you. The words of understanding, the pain inside that sorry. You knew Hanno had lost people, you knew he understood your feelings.

“You have lost people, so have I. I fought for years with his ideas in my mind, but with these new emperors and Macranis, I am not sure that the Rome Marcus Aurelius spoke about is achievable,” you told him, shutting the book in your hands. It wasn't like you had given up on your father's words, but you feared they started meaning less at some point. “I think it can be,” Hanno told you. “I hail from Numidia but was born here in Rome.” You met his eyes. He kept this to himself; you had not heard the others talking about where he was from. You were shocked he trusted you enough to tell you about his origins.

“You are Roman” you asked, the shock of his reval settling into your bones.

“Yes. I lived here during and after Marcus Aurelius” he told you. “I know those ideas”

“I guess his vision is not completely a whisper then” you told the man. Hanno nodded. “Would you tell me more about your home?”

Hanno and you traveled to his cell and talked for hours in hushed tones about his home, and you talked about yours. You recalled all the memories of your childhood home, the garden, the foundation, and the long walkway to get to your home. You talked about the way your father would always smell of parchment and how he had an entire room of Marcus Aurelius's words and writings inside, along with other political and philosophical ideals. Hanno asked many questions about your father and his ideals, and you told him everyone. The idea of a new Rome, a better Rome, was something even the two of you still hoped could exist. You, in turn, asked about his life in Numidia and what it was like there. He told you about his home and his late wife. You wanted to know more about his home but it was still a subject of sorrow for him. When the night became late, the two of you didn't stop talking. Instead, you curled in His small bed and continued till your eyes fell heavy.

Another day woke the world. You rose from Hanno's cot, and it was another long night of talking. It was starting to get to you during the day and you knew Hanno needed more sleep for his games. You rose from the side of the bed closest to the open room. Slipping out from under Hanno's arm, you slipped out of the cell and back to your room. Unfortunately, you were again required to join Macranis in the emperor's box. You had refused to see him for far too long that you knew there would be trouble if you didn't go. You wore the same pink dress you had whenever you sat there and strolled back out into the world. Macranis was already in the box when you joined him in the afternoon heat.

“The champion doctor” Get a spoke, “finally back in our box”

Macranis eyes met yours, and so did the Generals. That bruise and cut lip were still not fully healed.

“Take my seat y/n” General Acatious spoke, “I wish to sit a bit higher up today” You could feel the tension in your back left as you sat next to Lucilla, refusing to look twords the man next to Acacius.

“Afternoon, my lady,” you spoke to the woman. She smiled warmly at you.

“Welcome” she told you, “Now I finally have someone to gossip with” she told you, clearly doing her best to lighten the mood.

“I do enjoy a bit of gossip,” you told her, “The gladiators don't gossip much. I require some good Roman insite.” Lucilla smiled, enjoying your company already. You knew the woman had supported your father during his political activism, and she clearly remembered who you were. If only you were able to speak to her now about it all. Lucilla eyed you curiously. You smiled and shook your head. As the two of you continued to chat, Lucilla told you about the new elite women and wine companies opening up by the ports. Once it was Hanno's turn, your focus was more on the games, and Lucilla seemed to also be particularly interested. As you watched him walk out like he always does, a smile played on your lips. Hanno eyed you in the box and shifted them between you and Lucilla; he smiled and even took a moment to just look at you. You wish your heart was not pounding as hard as it was, but he had that effect on you. Lucilla gave you a knowing look.

“Your favorite?” she asked. You laughed a little.

“What gave it away?” you asked. She only smiled at that.

“He is a strong and capable one,” Lucilla remarked, almost as if she wanted to know what you thought.

“Hannos a good man,” you said to her. Lucilla looked…proud at your words. The games continued o,n and when Hanno won his game and was sent back under the arena, you took your leave. Lucilla bid you farewell, as well as General Acasius. Macranis only focus on the games, no mind to you. Worry built inside you at that. When you walked back down to the gladiators and that moment played in your mind, you almost missed the door to your room.

Macranis grew increasingly insistent on your attendance in the box and even at his parties. You had not gone, and even when you joined them in the box, Lucilla started making Gernal Acasius give his seat to you instead. You had not talked or spoken to the man in a few weeks.

“You seem worried today,” Hanno told you as he entered your room. You nodded your head at him.

“I have fought in those pits, and for some reason, Macranis scares me more than those men ever did,” you told him, “I do not want to go alone to that lavish party.”

“He is insisting again?” he asked shocked.

“It feels more than just insisting, almost like he thinks he can command me to go,” you told him. “I am sick of men telling me what to do.”

“Believe me, y/n, I understand,” Hanno told you, causing you to take a deep breath and calm down. He had a way of calming you down, even if his words were simple. “Do not go if you fear it; stay here and talk with me.” Hanno's pleading eyes were enough to almost make you say yes.

“I wish I could,” you told him. “I wish nothing more than to stay here with you, but I can not. This man, the power he holds here, it is worse if I do not go.”

“Take me” he said quickly. You looked at the man with shock.

“You must be mad!" you said with wide eyes. Hanno had to have lost his mind. “Take me; I will protect you,” He insisted, grabbing your hands. There had been a shift in Hanno since you started speaking and lying together at night. Those moments together left him wanting to be a different, better man. He says you and you saw him, and because of that, he tried to protect it.

“Taking you is too much, Hanno, that's asking for punishment not only for you but me too,” you told him. “I will go for a short time and be back before you know it”

While the party was lavish as ever, many of the roman elite were there again. Many more men and women were there from the pleasure houses for the gusts, too. Macranis spotted you immediately.

“My my y/n, you look wonderful tonight,” he told you. Bowing you kissed his hand as he extended it to you. A small prayer went out to the gods in favor of no violence happening. You smiled up at Macranis.

“Thank you for having me,” you told him, lying through your teeth. He only cooly smiled. He kept you by his side, and he talked with others. Then, with one group, they spoke of the games and the gladiators in them; Macranis smiled.

“Y/n” he said, “You have a soft spot for those gladiators, do you not?” “I…I treat their injuries, if that is what you mean?” You said to those around you. “You are the doctor?” One of the ladies asked with disgust, “How can you stand it?” “It is not all that bad,d,” you told them.

“She was a slave in the Colosseum,” Macranis said quickly, causing many eyes to fall on you, “She would not be disgusted by these men because she used to be one” “I…”

“You were a slave,” A mother spoke, the disbelief and disgust evident on their face and in their words. You wanted to shrink away or even yell at them that their opinions of slaves and gladiators were wrong. You could only look at the eyes of everyone and see their true feelings and judgment.

“Yes. Yes. She was quite fierce. Were you not?” you could only focus on the growing ringing in your ears. MAcranis laughed slightly and his arm cascaded over your shoulders. “It's no wonder she stays; she's got many men down there to satisfy her.”

“I do not,” you snarled. You looked at Macranis with a feeling you haven't felt since the arena. You wanted this man dead. “I am there to treat them with the respect they have earned.”

“Respect? Why would those lowly and traitorous men deserve respect?” He asked you. He had a motive here, to make you seem undesirable to the people around him and to remind you of your place. He was still pissed about not allowing his advances and your avoidance of him in the emperor's box. MAcranis was not a man to take lightly; he was dangerous.

“They deserve more respect than you do,” you told him, shoving his arm off yours and leaving his lavish palace.

When you retuned, you found a woman talking to Hanno. He saw you in the hallway before the woman did. Lucilla turned twords you, letting her veil sway as she did. She smiled at you before she turned back to Hanno and bid him a good buy.

“My dear y/n,” Lucilla spoke to you, “thank you.” Wonder flooded through you. Glancing back to Hanno, you saw him seated with his head in his hands.

“Is he okay?”

“I believe he will be. He will find a way to be with your help,” she told you. You were ever curious about why she was there and what her words meant. “I must be off. Oh, and dear, you better take care of that,” she said, pointing to the matchup you knew was running down your face. As you swiped it away, she was gone. Looking back you saw Hanno watching you, he motioned you to his cell. As the door was opened for you, he swallowed you in his arms.

“Are you alright?” he asked you. A small laugh escaped you.

“I could ask the same,” you told him as he realized you to look at your face. He brushed your cheek, spearing or clearing the rined makeup you were not sure.

“What did he do?” he asked, the intensity of his voice surrounding the room.

“I never realized how hard words could hurt,” you told him; another tear fell just at that. “I was there just to be humiliated,” you told Hanno.

“He is a dangerous man,” Hanno said; you nodded your head. “I..need to tell you something,” he spoke to you, leading you over to his bed.

“What is it?” you asked him. He looked as ifhe wanted to take back what he said.

“I have not been truthful with you,” He told you, “I'm more than just a Roman. My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius, and my grandfather was Marcus Aurelius.” You stared at him, unable to think of what to say next. You just nodded your head at him, eye contact never breaking. “I'm sorry I did not tell you before”

“Why are you sorry?” you asked suddenly, “Han-Lucius, you have a name, a history that holds such weight within Rome, of course you did not say anythin.g”

“I had not come to terms with who I was for a long time,” he said, “I did not want to be him, but I think it is time I remember who my family was. It is because of you I can accept it” “Lucius,” you said, sweetly saying his name as you held his face in your hands. “I did nothing. You had to concur that battle yourself.”

“I could not have done it without you,” he told you. Leaning into your hands. You wanted him close to you, your heart beat faster. “Thank you”

“I'm so glad I could help you,” you told him. “I…I know you are not ready…but if you tell your secrets, I should tell mine.” “If you wish,” he said, you dropped your hands into your own lap.

“I did not mean to fall for you, Lucius, but I have. I know your past and pain, and I do not wish to force anything onto you, but I think you should know my feelings,” you said, only looking up once you had finished. Lucius held an unreadable face. “I'm glad you told me about your origins. I will leave you for the night,” you said and got up. Lucius' hand found yours before you could leave. You glanced back at him, only for him to place his hand on your cheek and bring you close, kissing you sweetly. You almost lost your balance, but Lucius held you. When you broke,e and he looked at you, the smile in his eyes and lips made you understand.

“I do feel the same, but I am still a broken man,” he told you, “Would you be there with me to learn to love again?”

“For you? Anything” you told him. Lucius smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

That night, you lay in his arms as he recalled the memories he had as a child. He recalled the memories with his mother, his grandfather, and the man he admired, who was his father. You remembered Maximus, who set out to get revenge against Emperor Commodus. Here, his son lay after twenty years of being away from Rome, only to end up in the same games his father played in. Lucius was strong; you knew he was.

You were not told about the plot to de-throne the emperors until a few days later. Lucius returned from his naval battle after trying to kill General Acacius, only for his mother to go and tell him about her plans. Lucius felt terrible for letting his anger get the best of him and almost killing the man his mother clearly loved. He told you about their plans and how Macranis was slowly inching his way further and further into the emperor's minds. He was evil; you both knew it, but how much did the people know. You could always feel the tension between the people and the emperors, knowing they were close to rebelling.

It was a lovely afternoon when a few men came to take you to Lucius mothers home, Lucilla stood at the gate with a smile on her face. You embraced her and walked in together. As you two talked you could tell she wonderd how much you knew.

“They do not hold the people's hearts,” you told Lucilla casually. “One wrong move by the emperors, and I fear the people may result in madness.” You gave her a knowing look that, hidden within your words, were hits to cause something to get the people on their side.

“I fear that as well,” she told you. Lucilla was already aware of the people's disloyalty. She nodded her head twords you, understanding that Lucius had told you everything. “How is your gladiator?”

“Very well” you told her smiling, “he has a heart I havent even beguin to understand fully. I look forward to learning more”

Lucilla smiled, another knowing glance. She could see the blush on your cheeks and maybe also your red lips. There was a glow about you, something only Lucius could bring out.

“Lucilla. He makes me believe in Rome again,” you said to her. A vulnerable statement with no layers or undertones, a clear meaning anyone could understand. You did not wish to hide how her son made you feel or believe in a better future.

“You have truly helped him find himself then,” she said. “I always knew his father's heart was in him”

“He's got his mother smarts as well,” you told her, “and his grandfather's spirit.” Lucilla could feel your pride for her son. Lucius was a good man who had overcome so much in his life. Now that he was here in Rome you could believe that Rome could change and be better. Lucilla could sense this revelation and leaned back in her chair. The rest of the afternoon was spent gossiping and even talking of favorite tea flavors. It was evening when you arrived back at the gladiator's homes. You were not alone. The moment of capture happened so fast that you had no time to panic. You were unconscious before you even fell.

When you awoke, you were in a lavishly designed room. Around you were some chairs, a table, a small closet, and a window. You rise from the bed, realizing you are still wearing the pink dress you wore to meet Lucilla. As you walked over to the window, you looked out onto the Roman streets and noticed the Colosseum loomed close to the building. You were inside Macranis house. When those doors opened, the man himself walked through the doors. He smiled at you and clapped his ringed hands together.

“Welcome,” he said. You looked back outside before you glanced back.

“How long have I been here?” “Only a few hours,” he told you and walked over. “We have a spectacle to put on today, my lovely. Get changed, and I will escort you to the Colosseum.”

“What spectacle?” you asked.

“It will be your spectacle,” he said, “A spectacle for the people on what happens when you fool me.” As he left, you felt yourself fall to the ground. He had planned for your death since that first incident, and now he had his opportunity. You dressed in the lavish white gown he wanted you to wear, your hair was braided elegantly, and you were led out to the games. As you walked in, cuffs were put onto your hands.

The more you walked, the more you realized no one was on this side of the colosseum; you were going to the second entrance to the gravel pits. You stepped inside, and every memory that was housed here from your time came flooding back. You remember your fights, your rage and your ability. The ability to fight for survival had been lost to you, put away but now back.

“Passed famed gladiator y/n now here for her traitorous acts of not honoring an engagement and being with a slave gladiator, Hanno” the announced shouted twords the people of Rome. You could hear the disagreeing voices of the crowd. This was what a mass crowd looked like when angered. As you looked into the emperor's box, you saw Macranis smiling and the emperors watching with intrigue. Lucilla sat in her chair near them chaine,d and General Acatious was held similarly. Lucilla looked at you with fear for yourself and yourself. Understanding shone in your eyes; you were all here for one territory or another. Macranis had made your spectacle be first saving Lucillas and the generals for later on that day. You where calculating your odds when the doors opened. Lucius walked out but stopped once he saw you in the center. The guards around you were ready to close once he came closer. He walked slowly, never letting his eyes leave you.

“y/n…” he muttered, pain evident in how he spoke your name. He worried the whole knight over where you were.

“Wait,” you told him. You knew they would be listening, and you didn't need him being dragged into this. You were still thinking of how you were going to get out of here when a sword was thrown at your feet. You glanced twords the box as Geta stood.

“Gladiator, do your job and kill this…whore before you. She has betrayed a dear friend of the emperors and must be punished.” He spoke with conviction, sure of his words and actions. The crowd booed at them; some stood, and others stayed seated, speaking their minds. Lucilla looked twords you; maybe she could also sense the emperors losing their support. The emperors were oblivious to the rising hatred. You looked back at Lucius, hoping he could see the rage in your eyes. You wanted to show these people that they could fight against the emperors against the people who oppressed them.

You crouched and gathered your sword and locked eyes with Lucious. You moved your hands so the chains clanked against one another, and Lucious's eyes grew. Good, he knew what to do. Lucius raised his sword, showing his acceptance of the game. He charged at you, and in the last moment, you opened your arms till the chains pulled against one another, and Lucius' sword swung down, breaking them. The guards around you readied their swords.

“Seems I get to see you in action now” Lucius said with a smirk.

“Ready to see what a champion looks like?” you asked smuggly, turning around and becoming flush with Lucious own back as you wathed the wtow sides of the arena.

“You ready?” he asked. “As I'll ever be”

The guard charged, and you danced with them. Your sword flew through the air, your enemies falling prey to the sharp edges. The dress you wore flowed with you, you were the waves against the italian shore flowing with power and grace. The cuffs and loose chains rattled against your arm and sword as you spun, making your ears ring. Blood now stained that white gown and you hardly cared. Your hair slowly came loose from those braids, and you felt the same feelings you had all those years ago. You had been free for three years, and here you were back where you started fighting for your life, which was exhilarating. You missed the way your blood pumped and your sword cut. You missed the way a sword felt in your hand, like the perfect extension. When you spun around and realized too soon all your enemies lay dead on the collosium floor, you breathed slow and deep. You soaked it all in, letting the sun warm your face. It was exciting when you looked behind you and found Lucius turning to face you. You both had slain the men put here to guard and potentially kill you. When you looked up at the box and saw Macranis with a crestfallen face, you knew you had one last thing to accomplish. As you looked around, you saw one of the men with a knife strapped to his side. You stormed over twords him, dropping your blade with a clatter and ripping the knife out of its sheath. Lucius was by your sid,e instantly taking the knife from you.

“Lucius” you said daringly. He only smiled.

“Allow me the honors” he said, “I said I would kill him for you and that is what I intend to do.”

You watched as the man before you somehow found a way into the emperor's box, walking past everyone there and right to Macranis, who had no time to fight before the knife was plunged deep into his heart. There were words whispered by Lucious into Macranis's ear, only for him to know. The look that befell Macranis's face told you that whatever words had been said had killed him more than that knife had.

“Guards” Geta yelled, but no one came. As you looked at the crowd, you realized why. There, the people took up their own arms and fought against the soldiers stationed there. Your intended execution had caused the people to realize their low place in this Roman world, and now they were doing their best to take it back. As Geta and Caracalla left the coliseum, you knew their lives would be ended shortly.

Lucious stood out on the hill looking down twords Rome. You wandered over from your farmhouse and hugged the man, sliding to his side.

“You overthink,” you told him. He laughed before looking down at yo,u pulling you closer to his side. It was a wordless encounter, knowing only you knew him and his soul now. Lucilla and Acacius were alive and back in their home in Rome, leaving you and Lucius to move out to the countryside. You preferred this life, a quiet one, compared to your formal living arrangement. You still worked as a doctor, tending to some of the locals and Lucius when he got nipped by the chickens. It became well known that they preferred you to him. You relaxed in Lucius arms, this was what your father had been talking about. Peace and steadyness in Rome. You could feel it, like Rome had been holding her breath for so long, and now she had let go. The people of Rome were treated better now, in the hands of the people for the people.

“I guess his dream was not a whisper after all,” Lucius said. “Our fathers will now be at peace”

#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x you #lucius versus x reader #lucius verus #gladiator movie #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator x reader #paul mescal

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mxltifxnd0m · 2 months ago

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having a witch s/o headcanons ⟡ s. winchester

pairings: sam winchester x witch! reader, sam winchester x gn afab! reader

word count: 1.8K

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', mentions of death and violence, some angst, fluff, dean being dean and not liking witches, [a part of season of the witch verse!]

a/n: ahhh im so excited for this little universe i've created and i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i had making it!!

as always enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog! your feedback fuels me <3

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

⟡ before dating you/ how you met:

the two of you didn’t exactly get off on the right foot when you guys met for the first time

you taught at the local university in your town, trying to live as normal as a life as you could while being a witch

the boys were on a hunt in the town you were living in, and they thought that you were the witch that was killing the college students (they were your previous students, hence why they came to that conclusion)

they had tried cornering you in your office after hours while you were working late but you managed to escape their grasp and flee. (you called in sick the next day and canceled classes)

after the minor altercation the three of you had, you managed to track down the winchesters and confront them at their motel room, and you explained the situation to them (it was a rogue witch from your father’s previous coven that was seeking revenge on your family since they were betrothed to each other but your father had fallen in love with your mother, running away, and then having you)

you knew about the winchesters, who hasn’t? so you knew that they would be hesitant about accepting your help, but you weren’t doing it to help them; you were doing it to save your own behind and save your students

dean outright refused your help, but sam, being the smart man he was, knew that without your help or knowledge, tracking down that witch would be difficult, so a hushed conversation later (you heard every single word that they said in that small motel room) they had accepted your help on the condition if you ever stepped out of line that they wouldn’t hesitate on killing you

you rolled your eyes at their threat but agreed (you haven’t killed a human being in all of your years of being alive so you weren’t going to start now, though with dean’s attitude towards you, you just might break that record)

working with the winchesters was like pulling teeth, but at the end of it all, you guys killed the witch, and the winchesters went on their merry way.

you were hoping that would be the first and last time you’d ever see their faces, but alas fate is a mistress that you hate to serve, and they ended up at your office, posing as FBI agents once again and needing your help (it was mostly sam asking and dean standing next to him stone-faced)

you flat out refused to help them, not wanting to be pulled into their world of crazy (your mother made sure you had as normal a life as you possibly could, and you weren’t going to give that up for the winchesters), so you swiftly sent them out of your office but you weren’t very lucky later that night when sam had shown up on your doorstep and all but intruded on what you thought was going to be a quiet night

against your better judgment, you invited the gentle giant into your home, and you shared the pizza that you had ordered in silence before he tried once again to ask for your help

it was either the wine you had consumed or his pleading puppy dog eyes (it was probably the combination of both) but you found yourself saying yes to help them

you swore to yourself that this was the only time that you would help them

but newsflash, they didn’t end up happening, after that hunt, you and sam had exchanged numbers, and you found yourself texting sam and helping them out with either research or spells that they needed for a hunt

hell, even dean had gotten ahold of your number and texted you for help (but this was very rare and sam was typically the person to reach out and ask for help)

then the texts with sam had crossed over from just asking for help and the two of you started to have friendly conversation with one another

it was nice, being able to chat with him, you knew that sam was kind and intelligent in his own right so the two of you texted each other often before it turned frequent

months had passed, and you had a tentative friendship with sam but before you knew it, you had developed feelings for the taller winchester and you were a little terrified about it (you knew that sam was generally more open about monsters, but there was a little voice in the back of your head telling you that he could always turn on you)

you became distant with him, trying to be discrete about it but sam was perceptive and called you out on it, and you gave him a bs excuse about it

turns out that wasn’t enough because a day later, he had shown up on your doorstep like he did when he asked for your help that night and practically confessed his feelings towards you

you were shocked by it, but managed to tell him that you felt the same, you melted seeing the grin that he gave you before he leaned down and captured your lips in a passionate kiss

⟡ dating sam winchester

at first, the two of you took it slow; you didn’t want to rush with sam, considering that you felt so strongly for him and sam to you

sam also had to deal with dean, knowing how his brother felt about witches, and even if you guys were on decent terms, the two of you had no idea how he’d feel if his little brother was dating a witch.

so sam kept it from dean, but it wasn’t going to be for long, just until the two of you were comfortable telling him, but considering you lived a couple of states away, you’d hope it be soon because you knew that the older winchester wasn’t dumb and would question sam about his whereabouts if he visited you often.

the two of you did long distance, which was difficult, to say the least, not seeing each other for weeks at a time, and with you teaching and sam traveling the states for hunts, it left a lot to be desired, but you guys found workarounds for it

but there was an insistence that sam didn’t respond to your texts for at least three days, which was out of the norm (he usually took a day to respond if he couldn’t find time to respond if he was out on hunts) and so you panicked and tracked sam’s phone to a hospital (which worried you immensely). you immediately high-tailed it to the location where his phone was. you burst through the hospital doors, and dean was waiting in the lobby for his brother to be discharged and was confused to see you here

then sam came walking (limping) down the hallway, and his eyes landed on yours, and before he knew it, your lips were on his, but he sank into your embrace nonetheless (dean looked at this scene with wide eyes and when you guys broke away, you expected dean to drag you off of his brother and possibly kill you)

lucky for you and sam, dean liked you enough that you had his permission to date his brother (but that didn’t mean that he pulled you out of the motel room that the boys were staying in and threatened you lightly)

soon after dean had given his seal of approval, sam asked you to move in with him in the bunker after a year of dating

you almost said yes immediately, but you said you would think about it since that would mean uprooting your life and abandoning a life of normalcy

it only took a week to think it through and about a month and a half later, you were moved into the bunker in Lebanon, Kansas living with the boys was a huge adjustment at first, but you guys eventually found your groove, and you had become an important asset in helping them out on research and spell work

speaking about spell work, since you were born with your abilities (thanks to your father), magic came easy to you, but you only worked with healing magic and light magic (you studied everything else; it was good to be knowledgeable about all facets of the craft)

but your healing salves and magic came in handy in their line of work any time they were injured

you had a separate workspace when working with your craft (you had cleared out an old room that wasn’t being used and they were okay with it)

you found yourself in that room more often than not and usually sam would come in and just study you as you bustled around the room (his gaze never strayed from your focused face as you worked and found it adorable when you slightly jumped when you looked up from the book you were reading to find sam smiling at you)

sam never really expressed his feelings about learning about the magic you used, so you were thoroughly surprised when sam came to you asking if you could teach him

you weren’t sure at first but eventually caved (those damn eyes of his would be the death of you)

he was a good student and a fast learner, which shouldn’t have surprised you considering you knew how smart he was

but dating sam while you lived with him was a breeze (bar from the fact that even when he was a human heater, he stole the covers often and the little spats the two of you had, which most of the time were solved in a matter of hours and led to great sex)

it was the first time in a relationship that you felt like you could be yourself for once, having to brush off the side of yourself as a hobby or hide it from your partners

but with sam, you didn’t need to hide it and it felt so freeing

sam was understanding, compassionate, sweet, gentle, and so many more things that you could rattle off but it would take too long to even explain, but you couldn’t have asked for a better person to be your partner

he’d given you the pet name of jinx, and at first it sounded like a nickname that dean would have given you, but it slowly grew on you, and he was the only one who could call you that (mainly because you threatened bodily harm if dean had called you by it)

so in return, you’d given him the pet name of “my heart” which you thought was fitting because he did have it fully and you loved the blush that crept up his neck and bloomed on his cheeks when you called him by it

there were always going to be bumps in the road, and life-ending events looming over the two of you, but you were convinced that if he was by your side and you by his, you guys could do anything

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starcurtain · 5 months ago

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I wish everyone collectively understood aventurine’s character like you…things would be so much easier! I genuinely don’t understand how people keep getting his motivations wrong??? Could it be because some of the most popular Aven fanfics were written prior to his release? That could have contributed to some of the takes we tend to see about him…thoughts?

I struggled all day to come up with a concise way to answer this and couldn't think of one, so here, have a long-winded ramble:

I don't think early fic writers have much impact in the situation with Aventurine's character now, since most people can look at when a story was posted and go "Oh, this was before we had ____ information."

I think that Aventurine's problem is being a male character in a gacha game. Gacha game characters are designed to sell. Hoyo can sell female characters very, very easily. Give her huge tits and a visible underwear strap and you're good to go. I love all my guy friends, but I'm not gonna sugarcoat it: straight men are not the hardest audience to please. Hit a particular fetish (feet, spandex, dommy mommy), and you're gucci.

Nah, we all know why Jade's trailer is Like That.™

Male characters in gacha are harder to sell because women as consumers are a little harder to predict. Does every woman want a tall, ripped hunk? Shit, no, small cute boyish models like Aventurine are selling better now? Why?! Would a bad boy be more popular than a nice guy??? It's harder to account for women's tastes, especially because they are often (a little) less visually-oriented.

Hoyo is good at what they do though, and they've figured out that male characters sell very well when they possess at least one of two specific traits:

Endearing vulnerability/helplessness

Gay ship tease

Give a character both, like Aventurine? They might as well be printing money.

That sound you hear is Hoyo's stock prices rising.

So, from the very beginning, Hoyo is incentivized to create a character that appeals to people, a character people will want to crack their wallets open for. And they achieved this, first and foremost, by giving Aventurine traits that female players (in particular, but men too), find especially appealing: emotional and physical vulnerability.

We see Aventurine's pain. We sympathize with his grief. We identify with his struggle to make meaning of his difficult life. He's our woobie, blorbo, babygirl, whatever the hell they're calling it now.

He can't hide his suffering anymore. He's on the very edge. He's a dude in distress. He's surrounded by enemies! He misses his mama! He's been betrayed! No one understands him like you do, dear player!

The ultimate feeling evoked is: He needs to be saved.

When people talk about male power fantasies, I think they forget that women can experience them too, and "Emotionally vulnerable man that only I (or my favorite character) can fix" is actually a female power fantasy.

And from there it's really easy, right: the people who shell out cash to buy warps for their harmed-husbando feel like they've saved him; the people who are into mlm ships look for the nearest hot dude to be the savior Ratio was waiting for his time lol.

Morally and intellectually, this type of deep-down-golden-hearted, emotionally-wounded male character is very easy to digest. There is nothing to dislike about this type of character or role in the story: this character is a good guy who has just gone through so many terrible situations, whose victim status makes him endearing, and whose lack of agency means that any of the questionable or downright bad things he does are always the result of someone else forcing his hand, and never something he would have chosen himself.

His motivations are always clear and consistent: get free, heal, and live happily ever after.

Insert the Wreck-It Ralph meme: "Do people assume all your problems got solved when a big strong man showed up?" But to be fair, a big strong man did kind of solve Aventurine's problem, so--

Anyway, it's simple. It's straightforward. Morally, it's pretty cut and dry, black and white: Aventurine is our hero, which means everyone dictating the course of his miserable life is evil.

Hoyo is not remotely discouraging people from literally buying into this emotional appeal.

And trust me, I get it. I'll be the first to admit that hurt-comfort is its own entire genre in fandom because it is so appealing. People eat up Aventurine's tragic backstory like candy! The idea of watching a character go through hell at the hands of bad guys just to finally find a happy end is like the definition of everyone's favorite story.

In fact... people love Aventurine's suffering so much, they have invented whole new ways for him to suffer that aren't even in the game.

This is where we get all the headcanons that Aventurine was a sex slave, every single person he meets hates him because of his race, the Stonehearts are executioners holding knives to his throat, Jade enslaved him to the IPC with a lifelong contract, his material possessions belong to the company, the IPC is forcing him to take only the most dangerous missions where he is being required by his evil jailers to continually put his life on the line... You name it and I promise you, I can find a fanfic where Aventurine suffers from it. 😂

Bro can't even sleep in on his day off; life is so hard for this man.

Being serious: if the game is telling us that Aventurine is a victim... Why not make him the perfect victim?

Why not envision an Aventurine with no freedom, who bears no responsibility for any of the horrible situations he is in or any of the dubious things he does?

It's so natural to like that version of Aventurine, so appealing to see a totally powerless underdog use his own wits and charms to claw his way up to freedom. Or, if you're the kind who really relishes angst: It's even appealing to see Aventurine lose more. To delight in fics where he loses his wealth, where the IPC punishes him for past crimes while he's powerless to stop them... (I assure you, this is many people's cup of tea and the fanfics prove it!)

Ultimately, there's nothing wrong with liking characters who are exactly this straightforward! It's completely fine to embrace characters that are intentionally written to be morally above-board, whose primary role in the story is to generate angst by being a good person who suffers, or those characters who never show unlikable traits, bad decisions, or contradictory actions.

The problem is that that's just not who the game is telling us Aventurine is.

Hoyo may be capitalizing off people who love to envision poor Aventurine still living his life as a slave... But the game also needs to tell a complicated enough story overall to appeal to people who don't care about this specific husbando--Aventurine's role in the actual game's plot has to be interesting enough for almost everyone to appreciate it, not just Aventurine's simp squad. (Don't get mad, I'm in the simp squad with you.)

So his character doesn't stop at just being a pure-hearted victim who is still waiting to be saved.

Aventurine is not that easy to label, and I think the biggest struggle in this character's fandom right now is between people who prefer the even-more-angsty, still-a-slave Aventurine versus people who want a morally grey, self-destructive character instead.

To me personally, while I greatly understand the appeal of fanon!Aventurine and the joy of a really juicy angst fic where characters lose it all, I think that missing out on the depth that canon is suggesting would be a real loss on the fandom's part.

The character motivations that Aventurine shows in the game are complicated. They cancel each other out. They're basically self-harm! He makes almost every situation he's in worse for himself--on purpose.

He is a good person, but also a person who has done unspeakable things. He does have morals, but he's not above allowing those who don't have them to use him to their advantage.

He's both the victim and the victor. He's his own worst enemy. He's a lost little boy who's been making terrible decisions for himself since he was like eight years old, and a grown ass man who is barely managing to fake his way through an existence that destiny is not letting him quit.

This kind of character is a lot harder to embrace. He's done things that most people would find appalling--like willingly joining up with the organization that let his entire race be massacred. He's invented a whole new peacock persona to frivolously flaunt riches he doesn't even care about (Poison Dart Frog Self-Defense 101). He actively plays into racist stereotypes about his people to manipulate others through their preconceived expectations. He's made a mockery of his mother's and sister's hopes and dreams by endlessly trying to throw his own life away.

He has flaws! He bet everything he had on a ploy without doing his homework to find out if the people he was risking his life for were even still around. (Maybe he already knew, and couldn't bear to admit it, even to himself.) He's intentionally off-putting and obnoxious to everyone he meets (Poison Dart Frog Self-Defense 102). He terrifies everyone who gets close to him by (seemingly) carelessly throwing himself into the jaws of death without the slightest provocation.

He knowingly allows the IPC to exploit his power and talents for profit. Did everyone forget that his role in the Strategic Investment Department is asset liquidation?! Like, his actual day-to-day job is ruining people's lives. Canonically, Aventurine kills people when his deals go bad.

His motivations change off-screen in two lines of story text. We're told in one line that his biggest reason for joining the IPC was to make money to save the Avgin, then in the next line we find out that's impossible. And... then what? What motivations does he even have now? The whole point of his character arc from 2.0-2.1 is that he was on the edge of giving in to utter despair and nihilism because he couldn't even perceive a single reason to stay alive. He has no purpose in life before Penacony, and that didn't start with the Stonehearts at all??

People keep saying Aventurine was held in the IPC by golden handcuffs, but how do you tie down someone for whom profit is meaningless? What can you offer to a man whose only desire is to bring back something already lost forever? How do you imprison someone whose only definition of freedom is, canonically, death?

Working for the Stonehearts is obviously not healthy. But that's why Aventurine was doing it--because taking dangerous missions allowed him to put himself at risk. The job that he originally pursued hoping to save his people became a direct means to self-harm, and the IPC's only real role in that was just happily profiting off the results.

The journal entries for Aventurine's quests are there deliberately to tell the player what is on his mind, and none of it has to do with escaping from his job:

Like... Work is the least of this man's problems.

At really the risk of rambling on too long now, he's also just a massive walking contradiction:

Aventurine is among the most explicitly religious characters in the game, yet he's one of the only people in the entire game that we have ever seen actively question his people's aeon.

You might be tempted to think Aventurine's risky gambles with his life as an adult are a result of giving up after finding out about the Avgin massacre... Butttt no, Hoyo makes sure to tell us that even at knee-high in the Sigonian desert, Kakavasha was already willing to risk himself in a fight to the death against monsters because even back then he found his own life to have less value than a single memento.

He's the "chosen one" who will lead his people to prosperity... except they're all dead.

He's explicitly suicidal... andddd also a pathstrider of Preservation.

He wants to die... He doesn't want to die. He wants to make it end, yet goes to staggering lengths to continually survive. (Every plan risks his life on purpose--but every plan's win condition is also to live.) He life is the chip tossed down, but his hand is trembling beneath the table. When faced with an otherwise unsurvivable situation, Aventurine literally became a winner of the Hunger Games. He beat other innocent people to death with his own chain-bound hands just to come out alive.

He knows the IPC failed the Avgin and left them to die... and he still willingly sought out a position of power in their organization. Maybe he really is after revenge... but maybe not.

He starts his journey in the IPC with a truly noble goal in mind: to help his people using his newfound wealth and power. He's a good guy who did genuinely want to save the Avgin and repay all those who helped him. But once it became clear he was too late, once it was obvious he would have no use at all for that monetary wealth and power he risked his life to get... What did he do with it? Unlike Jade, we don't see him over here donating to orphanages. (I'm not that heartless; I'm sure he does actually do a lot of good things with his money on the side, but the point is that the game does not show us that--it shows us, over and over again, Aventurine putting on a wasteful, over-indulgent persona toward wealth. We've supposed to feel how meaningless money is to him, how meaningless everything is becoming to him.)

He outright refuses to use underhanded tactics or to cheat at gambles, which is meant to show us that's he's more morally upright than his coworkers. There's an entire exchange where he says that he'll never stoop to using manipulation the way Opal does. But... he doesn't have any issue fulfilling Opal's exact agenda. He was never remotely morally conflicted about denying the Penaconians their freedom by dragging Penacony back under IPC control.

He's willing to risk his own life, which is one thing--but he's also willing to risk other people's well-being. Topaz accuses him of constantly egging their clients on into dangerous situations; we've actively seen him shove a gun into Ratio's hands and pull the trigger with no care for how Ratio would feel about that on their very first meeting... Dragging the Astral Express crew into the entire Penacony plan in the first place was exceedingly dangerous...

To me, I just think it's vital to understand his character through the lens of these contradictions because they demonstrate the extreme polarity of Aventurine's life: from rags to riches, from powerless to empowered by multiple aeons, from willing to kill to survive to killing himself... He has quite literally lived a life of "all or nothing," and while he is the victim of many terrible situations out of his control, his arc as a character involves facing the truth of himself and the future his own actions are hurtling him toward.

Frankly, the Aventurine that canon is suggesting is a little annoying. You want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and say "Why are you like this?!" And he won't even have an answer for you, because he doesn't even know why he's still alive.

In the end, to me, this is so, so much more interesting. I can read an endless supply of hurt-comfort fics where Aventurine escapes the evil IPC and Ratio is there to fill the void in his life with the power of love and catcakes and be a perfectly happy clam online, but I want canon to continue to serve us this incredible mess of a man who constantly takes one step forward and two steps back.

Who is fully aware of his role as a cog in the grotesque profit-wheel of cosmic capitalism and still manages to say he never changed from the rags-wearing desert rat of the Sigonian wastes.

Who over and over again flirts with nihility but, ultimately, even if he has to wrest it from the grip of the gods themselves with bloody, chain-bound hands, chooses life.

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine meta #hsr meta #character analysis #listen I see you angsty fic writers who bully our favorite for maximum emotional gain #I am a ratiorine fan with the best of them #so I fully understand the appeal of the “I can fix him” fic #but like #there is so much else just waiting in the text of the game #that makes Aventurine such a rich complex and nuanced character #admitting that the IPC is the least of his issues makes him MORE interesting #not less #I promise #also like #getting so tired of reductive reads of my posts #just because I don't think Aventurine is a slave of the IPC #doesn't mean I think the IPC are good people #I'm not sure how many times I can say #'They're evil and are actively exploiting him for profit'#before people will stop saying I'm an IPC apologist lollll #I promise it is possible for Aventurine to have agency AND for the IPC to still be evil #those two statements can co-exist

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tokkiwrites · 8 months ago

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ㅤ𔓕ㅤㅤꪆৎㅤ𓈒ㅤ THREE'S A CROWD ＼ ㅤ♰ ㅤ⊹ㅤ ︵

Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x f!reader x Francisco 'Catfish' Morales

summary: your dad befriended some nice customers from his bar. fast-forward a year, they're all you can think about.

tags: pwp honestly, threesome mfm (YEEPPEEE) dbf! Santiago & Frankie, afab!reader w she/her pronouns, age gap, pet names (lots!!), Santiago has a thing with you being 'pure', virginity loss, reader is literally horny 24/7, doms! santi and frankie, sub! reader, rougher santi and softer frankie ig, dirty talk, slapping, spit (for like a sentence), choking, hair pulling, double penetration (in the same hole), head m receiving, voyeurism, unprotected p in v (wrap your dingaling!!), masturbating in the mirror for like a bit, lmk if i missed anything!!

ㅤ↪ㅤtokki's ۫ 𐑺 𝚜𝚞ׂ𝚐𝚊𝚛 ࣭ note ˑ ⌕ ࣭ ּ ➭ ive been on an oscar isaac rush for the past few weeks, and i had to. first time writing ab a threesome...sooo. im trying to write in different ways, so if it all seems jittery, apologies!!! this has like 3.6k words. its not proofread!! I TRIED MY BEST :( enjoy !!

'i need it.' was becoming like a mantra for you now. every day, needy for touches and attention, those dirty reflections that never left your mind.

of course, you've done things with boys. well, one boy, your boyfriend, and those things being your average makeout sessions and hand jobs, nothing more. you knew what sex was, of course, but the urge to experience the rougher side of it was overflowing by the day. and you know these wishes started appearing and consuming as soon as your dad befriended two customers from the bar you help him run, Santiago and Frankie. One year ago, you saw them only three times, maybe four in the span of 3 months, but their visits were more and more frequent and well, that's how their friendship started.

At first you were skeptical, unsure of their means, but you missed seeing your dad so happy and when you got to know them you realized they were good. What mattered was your dad being less lonely.

all though, that kind of changed eight months ago when, in the dead of july, you witnessed them helping your dad building a small summerhouse in your backyard. There's nothing wrong with that. Just seeing them both sweaty, with muscles bulging and hands dirty, woke something inside of you. and the fact that you broke up with your first boyfriend ever, that you were together with since 17, didn’t quite help.

So yeah, you were happy for your dad, but hated that you had to see them almost everyday and in turn sit hours on end with soaked panties on and, like a broken record, playing fantasies in your mind of these older men doing as they please with you. and you don't know why these thoughts plagued your mind just now, at the age of 21, but it was getting in the way of every aspect of your life, these wild things making you want to live inside your fantasy world and never wake up.

Today was no different: another late night at the bar. your dad went home early to catch some sleep since tomorrow he'll have to leave for three days to help his brother, your uncle, move into his new home. That's fine. What's getting you is him assigning his friends to 'keep an eye on you' like you're some sort of child. but, somehow, you can get over that. What you can't get over is how are you going to survive three whole days being just in their presence? when your dad's here, it's different. You don't need to spend that much time in their proximity, but this? you'll have to lock yourself in your room to keep those thoughts at bay.

you we're getting lost within your mind again.

what if you were to tell them about these thoughts? not that they're about them, just... you know, boy advice?

that's insane. and stupid.

would they accept should you propose you three entangled in some...activities? they'd for sure disagree- you were their friend's daughter, and whilst they didn't know you for that long it for sure didn't sound right.

what if they agree, though? one night. one night for all of your dreams to become reality..but you couldn't live after that knowing what you'd be missing forever. they'd leave after. what if you'd beg for them to stay, to have them do things even more carnal to you? if you begged maybe and gave your freedom to them.

These kinds of thoughts cloud your mind every day, and now, they are making you forget about the real world, where you were supposed to serve Santiago a glass of whiskey. as the sound of a low chuckle pulls you out of your trance, you feel liquid pooling around your palm that was settled on the bar. and when it finally awakes you, your eyes meet him again. your heart jolts, and it gets you lightheaded again.

"Oh, I'm- god, I'm so sorry Mr.Garcia...I don't know what happenedㅡ" You panic, wiping hurriedly the bar, prompting yet another laugh from the man. " 's fine, doll, don't worry. all though... your dad might turn into the reincarnation of Lucifer if he sees how much whiskey you wasted." he leans over for some tissues, wanting to help you.

"No, it's fine, I'll do it-" you smile shyly, placing your hand on top of his to stop him from moving, this in turn made him tilt his head up only a little, which awarded him with a quick glance at your barely exposed cleavage.

'untouched.' he thought to himself.

"I won't say anything if you don't." your ears pick up his voice, and for a moment, you forgot about what he was talking about. "Oh, yeah, I'm not gonna...say anything." Your lips curl into a shy smile. " Hurry and clean this up. I'm gonna take you home since you gotta close anyway."

oh, lord.

"no, that's fine. I can walk-"

"said I'll take you home." you breathe out a quiet 'oh, my god' because you're sure you've just had an orgasm from his voice only.

"See, I know you have manners ‘cause your dad taught you to listen to your elders, seems I just gotta get a little stern with you, huh?" you shake your head, not sure what to make of what he just said, but you finish up cleaning as the door opens to reveal Frankie. "why're you still here, man?" he inquired as he took off his baseball cap to arrange his perfectly curly hair better.

you can't possibly be serious.

"on duty." he laughs and points towards you. "Ah."

"You know... my dad hasn't left yet, so you're not 'on duty' as far as I know. Also, he said to keep an eye on me. Not be my bodyguards!" You try to scold them in a way. At the end of the day, you are an adult, right? "Easy miss." Frankie puts his hands up."I just arrived.”

"Yeah, well I am leaving. Alone! So please-" you move your hands as a signal for them to leave. "Excuse us for ever bothering you, miss. May we at least stay here until you close?” Santiago sarcastically banters. "I guess.." You shrug, finishing washing your hands and putting the glasses away.

you hate how much you like them. and how much you want them to ravage you. if possible, you'd let them both take you right there on the bar counter, whilst potential passers-by saw you get fucked into oblivion.

9AM, your dad left, and you can't seem to fall back asleep. the bar will be closed for these these days, so you have nothing to do except steep into your own boredom. You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee and grab a book from the shelf. With your coffee in hand, you head out to the backyard, where you settle into a comfortable chair. As you sip your coffee and immerse yourself in the pages of the book, you find solace in the gentle breeze and the sounds of nature around you, embracing the quiet moments of the morning.

this works for a while, but there's an inexplicable itch you want to scratch. with a loud whine that scares some little birds away, you head back inside to find other things to do. "Please, i can't keep on thinking about them. What is wrong with me?" You scream whisper at yourself whilst looking in the mirror places in your hallway, "like..genuinely!"

as you stare a bit more into the mirror, your hands make their way up your torso and to your breasts, nipping at your lower lip as you can't seem to ignore the warmth from between your thighs. you start imagining both of them having their way with you, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror as they pumped your holes full of their come. touching yourself more, light fingers make their way under the shorts you were wearing, finally catching a feel of how wet you are. you moan, knees buckling as you picture both men marking you as theirs in all ways. "p-please.. Santi, Frankieㅡ"

"my, what do we have here, huh?" your eyes open wide, and still in your pants and palm still over your sensitive nipple, as two other reflections in the mirror stare back at you. "Mr.Garcia, Mr.Moralesㅡ"

"Cut the shit, doll. I think we're way past that." he motions loosely towards the indecent position you were in. "You're lucky it was us and not your dad. '' Frankie states. "I'm so sorry, I don't even..I can'tㅡ" you stutter and turn around slowly to face them, arms now falling to your sides.

"You want us?" Frankie asks you in the most serious tone you've heard him. "I- what? Huh?" you're left speechless by this sudden interrogation.

"Do you want us to fuck you, doll?" Santiago reiterated. But you stayed quiet, head low, too embarrassed to admit your true intentions. was it wrong? certainly. but was it the only thing you've dreamed about since you first saw them? Of course.

"Why don't you answer? You act like a little slut and yetㅡ" He steps closer and Frankie soon follows. "You're too shy all of a sudden? We were the ones who walked in on you, you know? touching yourself in front of the mirror like a dirty whore, huh? what would your dad say, baby?" he taunts you whilst Frankie reaches his strong grip and tilts your head up to look them in the eyes. "You didn't answer the question, sweet girl."

it takes a few seconds, but you muster up a hushed 'yes', causing them to smirk. "Show us, baby. C'mon, tell us how bad you want it." Dizzy and drunk on arousal, you succumbed to their touch, kneeling at their feet and looking up, pleading with tearful eyes in a silent entreaty to do as they please with you. but they don't budge. They wait patiently for you to show them how desperate you can get. it all overflows you, the cold floor in contact with your knees, their scent, your rugged breaths. "Please, I want- need it. I need you...so bad. need you toㅡ use me" you rub your thighs together. "Please..?"

"for how long, baby, hm? since we first met? 'cause i know I've wanted to bend you over from the first moment I laid my eyes on the pretty thing you are." Frankie admits. " knew you had nothing else in this pretty head of yours, sweetheart. " Santiago laughs as he shoves your head lightly with his finger, causing you to whimper. "just wanna be fucked stupid, right? be our stupid, little fuck doll? that what you want?" and you nod in response, it takes you all of your power to not cry from how bad you want to feel them right now. "Ever done something like this?" and you shake your head no. "Shit. You poor little thing." he was right about you. He can feel his dick twitching at the thought of having you all splayed out, so innocent and untouched.

"We'll take care of you. But...we can't promise to be too gentle. All though I don't think “gentle” is what you want." Your eyes glimmer, and your head spins. Did you hear that right? Is this really happening, or are you having the most beautiful dream, and when you wake up, you'll be sorrowful for days?

They instruct you to get undressed, clothes falling to the floor as they force you to crawl onto the couch all whilst they watch, fully clothed. getting closer to you, their calloused hands explore each part of your warm body as trails of kisses leave you hanging onto them. "gonna ruin you, baby, you know that, yeah?" of course you know. you've been yearning for this moment for almost a year.

they proceed to get naked, Santiago positioning himself in front of you and Frankie a little to your side. You couldn't believe it. This was so much more than you imagined; they were both long and girthy, with Frankie being a little more veiny than Santiagoㅡ a sight that made you drool. this will forever be imprinted into your brain.

"You look like a dumb puppy staring like that." Frankie snorts. "Haven't seen a cock before?" he's getting cockier with his remarks, as he urges you to respond. "Yes, but.. n-ot soㅡ big.." your cheeks grow red as you see Santiago's dick jump from your words. "Stroking my ego like that baby... how 'bout you stroke my cock instead, hm? can you do that for me?" anything. you were willing to do it all for them, make them so proud, they'd never want to leave.

your shaky hands wrap, barely, around both their lengths, as you stare up at them whilst standing straight so your boobs are on full display for them to eat up with their hungry eyes. you do it slow, unsure if you're doing it good, licking some of the precum from their slits from time to time, swirling your tongue around eachㅡ putting on a show. "You've done your homework, huh? Do it a little too well for a virgin."

"c'mon, hands and knees, I wanna fuck this pretty mouth of yours." Santiago pushes you back as Frankie strokes himself. "Pretty thing" he says as two digits trail down your back and help you position yourself better onto the couch. Frankie finally places himself behind you, teasingly playing with your folds, letting out a soft 'fuck' whilst feeling how wet you were. "Stretched yourself out for use before we came, right, sweet girl? You want me to help you out a little moreㅡ?"

"Noㅡ! Please.." you eagerly interrupt. "You cockslut. Haven't had an eager little thing like you since I was in college." He laughs as he positions his length in line with your hot entrance, leaving kisses down your back he slips inside slowly, and you choke out a cry, eyes brimming with tears as a sting pangs through your whole body. "sh, sh..I know, baby. I know." Whispering gently, Santiago pulls himself down and cups your face, leaning in to kiss you. As your lips finally met, time stood still, the world faded away, and all that remained was the electrifying sensation of something within you igniting. It was a moment painted with the hues of passion and longing, a symphony of emotions echoing through your soul.

He breaks the kiss and smiles down at you as the pain slowly fades away and is replaced by pure pleasure. pulling away, he levels himself and taps on your chin for you to open your mouth. Santiago hisses, tugging harder at your hair as a response to your warm tongue enveloping the tip of his dick. "shit, baby, open up for meㅡ thaat's it. good girl."

shuddering in anticipation, you part your lips further, allowing him to push deeper inside. you were already a mess- drool dripping down your chin as he fucked your mouth like there was no tomorrow, tears that stained your cheeks as he pushed your head lower; muffled moans, how you were gagging around his length, pure music for both of them to listen to.

"look so pretty, baby, mouth stuffed with cock.." you stare up at him through wet lashes as he lands a slap to your right cheek.

At your other end, Frankie was cautiously moving back and forth, not wanting to succumb to the tightness of your wet cunt that almost sent him over the edge just as he put the tip in. "so fuckin' tight, baby. fuuck-" he groans as he hits a few hard strokes, your back arching against him and fingers digging into Santiago's hips. "you hear that?" Frankie asks, moving himself deep into your hot core, letting you catch the lewd and wet noises your cunt made wrapped around him. "she's so wet for us, isn't she? poor pussy.." you pathetically whine, as Santiago pulls your head back by your hair, making you stare straight into his darkened eyes. "don't go shy on us now, doll." he laughs, delivering another sharp slap to your already heated cheek. "you wanted to be a little slut and we're gonna treat you like one, soㅡ" he tuts, thrusting into your throat before he continues, "so, really, you should thank us." Santiago pulls away, leaving your needy mouth wide open, as if asking for his shaft in a desperate plea. Frankie firmly places his rough palms onto your ass before taking his length out and you cry at the sudden lack of them inside of you. "Go ahead," he adds. "Thank us, baby, c'mon."

you lick your lips, feeling yourself dripping down onto the mattress under you, too cock drunk and embarrassed to say anything. Santiago sighs, giving your cheek a few light slaps as his other palm slides down to wrap around your throat. you gasp, the feeling so new yet it felt like something you'd been missing for so long. "i didn't take you as the ungrateful type, little angel." he coos, as Frankie reaches under to cup your breasts into his hands. "are you an ungrateful little whore?" taunting you. " 'm n-ot.." you gasp, the lack of blood flow to your brain keeping you on the edge. "you're sure acting like one." the one at the forefront proceeds, running the tip of his leaking length along your puffy lips. "and here we were..-" he stops to slap it onto your left cheek "ready to reward you, hm?" they look at each other and chuckle, as if they weren't mocking you and the pitiful mess you were. "please, I'm-" you swallow. "I'm sorry, please. Thank you so muchㅡ ! just- please, please..."

"you sweet thing." Santiago intoned "sweet filthy thing."

"I say we fuck her like she wants us to." Frankie hums from behind you, his cock rubbing against your leaking entrance. "that's what you want, right baby? want us both inside your little pussy. stretch her out and ruin you for others.." and you whimper as your cunt pulses around nothing. "Yeah, she likes that. dirty fucking girl." It was raw and intense— how their command over you ignited an unyielding desire to please them, to make them proud.

they both pull away, and in no time, your body is squished between theirs, strong arms holding you down as if you're to run away. Santiago harshly cups your face, forcing your mouth open; He gathers some spit into his mouth, for him to promptly spit it down onto your tongue. He watches proudly as you swallow it all, his thumb running across your bottom lip. Frankie was biting your shoulder, sucking at your sensitive skin as he held you by your throat in a way that's sure to leave marks.

"lift your hips for us." Santiago commands, and you do as you're told. He tangles his hand around in your hair as his other one reaches down to his cock, aligning it with your entrance. He eases in, making you throw your head back onto Frankie, his fingers now massaging your sensitive clit. "Fuckingㅡ look at her, swallowing me in one go. pretty girl.." he coos, pulling your head back by the hair to face him. From behind you, Frankie slowly lifts you up with his knees and slips inside of you, both men moaning into your ears. Tears slip past your eyes again and you cry from the pain and pleasure as your mouth falls open, unsure if you're still conscious or not. "feels good, baby? us splitting you open right here where anyone from the street can see... you like that?" Frankie was right, all it took was for a taller person to stare a bit over the fence and they'd have front row seats at this show.

" 'course she does. little whores like her get off to that. bet she'd let us fuck her in front of her dad. let him see the slut his daughter actually is." With that, Santiago finally starts to move, his eyes rolling back as Frankie pushes down onto your lower belly, as he moves his hips. "So fucking deep, shitㅡ feel that?" he laughs "want us to come this deep, huh? have you all filled up till you can't hold anything inside of you.."

"p-pleaseㅡ"

"i could fuck this tight cunt forever, god." the other in front of you grunts, the hand from your hair now focused on your nipples and one placed firmly onto your hips. Frankie had one hand on your stomach and one onto your face, two of his fingers stretching your mouth open. You let yourself be taken over by them. it felt like you were flying so high and intoxicated by them, you weren't sure how you'd recover.

"thank you, thank youㅡ" you babble incoherently.

Santiago quickened his pace, causing Frankie to do the same, and with a few more strokes, they both bury themselves deep inside your core, white warm ropes painting your velvety walls. The sudden warmth and full feeling sends you completely over the edge, having you shake and pulse around them as you reach your orgasm.

you all sit there, them deep inside of you, you between them, breathing heavily as they planted kisses upon your skin. After you came down, you realized what happened, and worse, that it was over, a thought which made you let out a pathetic sob and clench around them out of desperation. "easy girl, we still have two days left." Frankie breaks the silence. "It was you who said you wanted us to use you, no? you who wanted to be our cum doll forever.." Santiago follows.

You're right where you want to be.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x you #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction

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lila-lou · 6 months ago

Text

✨ His second exception - Pt. 2/? ✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Ben being hurt, Reader being hurt, soft Ben, sad Ben, Ben loosing his shit- it´s STILL a fucking mess

Word Count: 5981

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 2 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

It had been three days since you returned from the hospital, and the house felt eerily silent. Ben had been trying, so hard, to get you to talk to him, but you couldn’t. Every time he asked a question or tried to start a conversation, you barely managed more than a monosyllabic response.

You spent most of your time in bed, staring at the ceiling or out the window, lost in your own world of pain. You barely ate or drank, and your physical and emotional exhaustion seemed to deepen with each passing hour. The grief was all-consuming, a dark cloud that overshadowed everything else.

Ben was at his wit’s end. He wanted to help, to ease your pain, but he felt powerless. He had tried bringing you your favorite meals, but they remained untouched. He had tried sitting with you in silence, hoping his presence alone would be enough, but it seemed to have little effect.

On the morning of the fourth day, Ben decided he couldn’t let this go on any longer. He needed to reach you, to pull you out of this spiral of despair. He found you in bed, as usual, your eyes blankly staring ahead. With a heavy heart, he sat down beside you, his hand gently resting on your arm.

“Hey”, he said softly, trying to catch your gaze. “I know you’re hurting. I am too. But we can’t keep going on like this. Please, talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling”.

You didn’t respond, your eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. It was clear that you were struggling, caught in a web of grief and numbness. Ben’s hand tightened slightly on your arm, a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

“Please, just let me in”, he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t stand seeing you like this. I want to help”.

You turned your head slowly, your gaze meeting his for the first time in days. “Just leave me alone”, you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow and frustration. “I can’t do this right now, Ben. Just… please”.

Your words cut through Ben’s usual cold and unhurtable demeanor like a knife. He felt his heart clench painfully in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He had always been the strong one, the one who never let anything get to him. But now, seeing you in so much pain and being unable to do anything about it, he felt utterly helpless.

“Alright”, he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll give you space. But please, if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know".

You turned away from him, tears streaming down your face, as he slowly stood up and left the room. The silence that followed was deafening, a reminder of the emptiness you felt inside.

Ben walked downstairs, feeling more lost than he ever had. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to do anything to release the frustration and pain that was consuming him. Instead, he walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, his head in his hands.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring blankly at the floor, before he left the house.

Eventually Ben couldn’t bear the suffocating silence any longer. He stood up from the couch and left the house, feeling like a shadow of himself. On the way to his car, he pulled out his phone and texted you, his fingers trembling slightly as he typed.

“I’m heading to the tower. If you need anything, call me”.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and got into the car, the drive to the tower feeling both too short and agonizingly long. Each mile away from you felt like a betrayal, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence was doing more harm than good.

When he arrived at the tower, he parked and walked in, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He needed to be Soldier Boy now, to bury his personal pain and focus on something, anything, that could keep him from falling apart.

As he entered the meeting room, he found Butcher and Annie still discussing the repairs. They looked up as he walked in, their expressions a mix of concern and surprise.

“Ben”, Annie said softly.

Ben's demeanor shifted almost instantly as he entered the meeting room. The weight of his personal anguish was momentarily pushed aside as he slipped into his Soldier Boy persona. He greeted Butcher and Annie with a nod, his expression now focused and determined.

"How's the progress on the repairs?".

Butcher and Annie exchanged a glance, recognizing the change in Ben's demeanor. Butcher leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Slow, but steady", he replied. "We're getting there".

Ben nodded, his mind already racing with thoughts of logistics and strategy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of cocaine, setting it on the table him. Without missing a beat, he began to prepare a line, his movements practiced and efficient.

Annie and Butcher watched Ben as he prepared the line of cocaine, concern etched on their faces. Annie couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for him. She cleared her throat, her voice soft and tentative.

"Ben, are you… okay?", she asked, her tone filled with genuine concern.

Ben looked up briefly, his eyes glazed and distant. He flashed a strained smile, trying to appear unaffected. "Peachy", he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness.

As he rubbed the white dust from his nose, Annie exchanged another worried glance with Butcher.

Annie hesitated, sensing the tension in the air, but she pressed on, her voice gentle. "How's… how's (Y/N) holding up?".

Ben's jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He snapped at her, his tone harsh and biting. "Everyone's fucking fine", he growled, his voice laced with anger. "Just pass me the fucking construction report".

Annie recoiled slightly at his outburst. It was clear that Ben was struggling, and they would need to tread carefully around him.

Without a word, Annie handed Ben the construction report.

After a while of talking about the rebuilding, Hughie and Frenchie stepped into the room, their eyes widening as they spotted Ben sitting at the table. They exchanged a confused glance, clearly surprised to see him there.

Frenchie couldn't hide his excitement, a grin spreading across his face. "Soldier Boy!" he exclaimed, his tone laced with genuine happiness. "You're back!".

Butcher shot Frenchie a warning look, silently cautioning him to tread carefully. He knew that Ben was in a fragile state, and they couldn't afford any missteps.

Ben's expression remained impassive, his eyes flickering briefly as he acknowledged Hughie and Frenchie's presence. "Yeah", he muttered, his voice flat. "Back".

Frenchie rambled on, trying to lighten the mood with his usual brand of humor. "Fuck, Butcher", he said with a chuckle, "you were a pain in my arse the last three days. I thought I was going to lose my mind without Soldier Boy around to keep you in check".

Butcher rolled his eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Meanwhile, Hughie made his way over to Annie, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "How are you holding up?", he asked softly, his concern evident in his eyes.

Annie nodded in agreement with Hughie's question, her expression grave. "I can't lie, Hughie", she murmured, her gaze flicking towards Ben. "It's good that Ben's here to take a look over everything. The tower's been a mess the last three days, and we could use his leadership. But… he's not in a good mood".

Ben's grumble cut through the air, his frustration evident as he continued to pore over the report. "I can fucking hear you", he muttered under his breath, not bothering to look up from the papers in front of him. He grabbed another file and handed it to Butcher without a word, his jaw clenched with tension.

Annie watched Butcher carefully, then turned her attention back to Ben. "Ben", she began tentatively, "maybe you should take a break. You've been at this for hours".

Butcher glanced at Annie and then back at Ben, his expression unreadable. "She's right, mate", he said gruffly. "You look like shit. You need to get some rest".

Ben's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pushed himself away from the table and stood up, running a hand through his hair. "Fine", he muttered, his tone terse. "But get those files to A-Train and MM. They need to deal with that supe in Florida".

He handed Butcher the file and then turned to Frenchie, thrusting another folder into his hands. "And you", he said, his voice clipped, "go after the supe in that file. Take your… chinese chick with you".

Frenchie raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, nodding in understanding as he took the file. "Got it", he said simply, his gaze flicking to Annie and Butcher before he headed out of the room.

Annie exchanged a worried glance with Butcher as Ben stormed off, his frustration palpable in the air. It was clear that he was struggling, but for now, all they could do was wait and hope that he would find a way to cope with his grief.

Hughie shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Say what you want about him, but Soldier Boy sure knows how to get things done", he mumbled, his admiration evident in his tone. "Efficient as hell".

In his office, Ben went for another line, the bitter taste piercing through the haze of his thoughts. He followed it with a sip of whiskey, the burning sensation offering a momentary distraction from the weight of his emotions.

Ben descended to meet with the heads of the departments, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. He outlined the plans for the next few weeks, his voice steady and authoritative as he issued instructions and delegated responsibilities. Despite the turmoil raging within him, he remained composed, his determination unwavering as he worked to keep the organization running smoothly.

Meanwhile, back at home, you moved slowly through the house, your footsteps heavy with the weight of your grief. You found yourself standing in front of the door to the baby's room, a door you had avoided for the past three days.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was just as you had left it, filled with the soft pastels and gentle touches you had so lovingly chosen. The sight of the crib, the tiny clothes, and the toys you had carefully arranged brought a fresh wave of pain crashing over you.

You walked over to the crib, your fingers tracing the delicate patterns on the blanket. Tears blurred your vision as you sat down in the rocking chair.

It was late when Ben finally came back home. The weight of the day's responsibilities and the lingering grief pressed heavily on his shoulders. Part of him dreaded returning, unable to face the sight of your suffering and the possibility of being rejected again, but he knew he had no choice.

As he walked through the house, he searched for you, calling your name softly. There was no response. Panic began to creep in until he noticed the open door of the baby's room. His heart sank as he approached it.

He stepped inside quietly, his eyes quickly finding you curled up and sleeping on the rocking chair, the little plush eagle clutched tightly in your arms. The sight tore at his heart, the depth of your grief mirrored in your posture even as you slept.

Ben knelt down beside the chair, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. He could see the tracks of dried tears on your cheeks, your expression troubled even in sleep.

For a moment, he just watched you, his own pain surfacing again. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you, but he feared waking you and causing you more distress. Instead, he sat there, for a while, his presence a silent promise that he was there for you, no matter how difficult things became.

Finally, he reached out and gently touched your shoulder, his voice soft and filled with love. "Hey", he whispered. "Let's get you to bed, okay?".

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to find Ben's concerned gaze. The sight of him brought a fresh wave of emotions, but you were too exhausted to cry anymore. You nodded weakly, allowing him to help you up from the chair.

Ben wrapped his arms around you, guiding you back to the bedroom. He helped you into bed, tucking the blankets around you with care. As he moved to leave, you grabbed his hand, holding on tightly.

"Stay", you murmured, your voice barely audible. "Please".

Ben's heart ached at the plea, and he nodded, slipping into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both lay there, enveloped in the shared silence of your grief.

The night passed slowly, Ben lying awake, his mind a storm of thoughts and emotions. He kept his arms around you, hoping that his presence might offer some comfort, even if just a little. But sleep eluded him, his eyes remaining open, staring at the ceiling as the hours ticked by.

When morning came, you stirred in his arms, your eyes fluttering open. The room was dimly lit by the early light of dawn seeping through the curtains. As you fully awoke and realized Ben was still holding you, you turned around, facing away from him, your back to his chest.

Ben felt the shift, a familiar pang of sadness settling in his chest. He understood that you needed space, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. He released his hold, his arms falling to his sides, giving you the room you seemed to silently ask for.

“I know it’s hard", he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want you to know I’m here. I won’t leave you”.

You didn’t respond, the silence heavy and thick between you. The pain of your loss was still raw, a wound that had barely begun to heal. Ben sighed, pressing his eyes shut for a moment, willing himself to stay strong for both of you.

After a few minutes, he slowly got out of bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb you further.

Downstairs, he went through the motions of making coffee, the mundane task a small anchor in the sea of emotional turmoil. He poured himself a cup, but the familiar taste offered little comfort.

His heart ached, but he pushed the pain down, focusing on the present moment. You needed him, even if you couldn’t express it, and he would be there.

After a while, he heard soft footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw you standing at the foot of the stairs, looking as fragile as he felt. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and promise that things would eventually get better, but he knew words were useless right now.

“Morning”, he said gently, trying to offer a small semblance of normalcy. “I made coffee. Want one?”.

You just shook your head, the weight of your grief making it hard to form words. You wanted to leave the kitchen, to escape the suffocating memories that seemed to cling to every corner of the house. But Ben reached out, his hands gently grasping your hips in a tender attempt to connect.

The touch, though well-intentioned, felt like a spark igniting a volatile mixture of pain and frustration. You snapped his hands away, your voice rising in a sudden, uncontrollable surge of anger and sorrow.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”, you yelled, the words echoing through the quiet house. Your face contorted with a mix of rage and heartbreak, tears welling up in your eyes once more.

Ben recoiled slightly, the hurt clear in his eyes, but he didn’t back down. “I just… I just want to fucking help you (y/n)”.

“Just leave me alone, Ben”, you sobbed, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this with you. I can’t… I can’t even look at you right now”.

Ben’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again as he watched you retreat, your words like daggers stabbing into his already wounded soul. Once again, you had pushed him away, making him feel like everything was his fault.

He stood there, feeling utterly helpless, as the weight of his own grief threatened to crush him.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tight with the effort to hold back his own tears. He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but he knew that wouldn’t change anything.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away, his footsteps heavy as he left the kitchen.

As Ben turned away from the kitchen, the weight of your words still heavy on his heart, he paused for a moment in the doorway. His shoulders slumped with defeat, he mumbled softly, almost to himself, "I'm at the tower".

Without waiting for a response, knowing that none would come, he left the house, his steps heavy with the burden of grief and guilt. Outside, he climbed into his car, the engine rumbling to life as he drove towards the tower.

When he arrived, he didn't waste any time. He quickly changed into his supe suit, the familiar fabric feeling like a second skin. It was a facade, a mask he wore to hide the pain and turmoil raging inside him, but it was the only way he knew how to keep going.

As the days passed, the chasm between you and Ben seemed to widen with each passing moment. At night, when the darkness pressed in and the weight of your grief threatened to suffocate you, you found yourself yearning for his presence, craving the comfort of his arms around you.

But as the sun rose and the day stretched out before you, the ache in your heart turned to anger, and you pushed him away with every ounce of strength you had left. You couldn't bear to look at him, to see the pain in his eyes mirrored in your own, so you shut him out, retreating into your own world of sorrow and silence.

For Ben, each day felt like a battle, a constant struggle to navigate the shifting landscape of your emotions. He wanted to help, to ease your pain and bridge the widening gap between you, but every attempt seemed to only push you further away.

He tried to give you space, to respect your need for solitude, but it tore him apart to see you suffering and know that he couldn't do anything to ease your pain. The nights were the hardest, when he lay awake beside you, listening to the sound of your uneven breathing, knowing that even in sleep, you were haunted by the ghosts of your grief.

But he refused to give up.

This evening was no exception. As Ben emerged from the shower, the towel loosely draped around his hips, he felt the weight of the evening settling around him. He glanced at you lying in bed, the distance between you palpable even in the dim light of the room. It had become a familiar routine – he was only allowed to be around you at night, while over the day you didn’t want to see him or talk to him.

With a heavy sigh, Ben walked towards the closet, his movements slow and deliberate. He could feel your gaze on him, heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

As he pulled on a fresh pair of underwear, he couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to permeate every corner of the room. The silence between you was deafening, a stark reminder of all that had been lost.

Finally dressed, Ben turned towards the bed, his heart heavy with the weight of the evening ahead. He knew that tonight would be no different from any other night – the same silent longing, the same unspoken desires. But still, he couldn’t help but hope that somehow, things would be different.

As soon as Ben slipped inside the bed, you instinctively cuddled against him, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence. He felt a pang of both relief and sadness as you nestled closer to him, the physical closeness a stark contrast to the emotional distance that had grown between you over the past two weeks.

Unable to resist any longer, Ben finally broke the heavy silence that hung in the air. His voice was soft, tentative, as if afraid of shattering the fragile peace that had settled between you.

“Is this… Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”, he asked. He couldn’t bear the thought of continuing to drift apart, of living in this limbo where neither of you truly knew where you stood.

You didn’t respond immediately, your silence stretching between you like a chasm. Ben held his breath, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment, any indication of what was going through your mind.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Ben”, you said, the weight of your uncertainty heavy in the air. “I don’t know if I can go back to how things were before”.

Ben’s heart sank at your words, the fear of losing you threatening to overwhelm him.

Ben sighed heavily, the weight of exhaustion and emotional turmoil bearing down on him like a heavy burden. He looked at you, seeing the toll that the past few weeks had taken on both of you. His heart ached with a mixture of sadness and frustration.

He felt utterly drained from the lack of sleep, from the constant back-and-forth of your emotions, from the feeling of helplessness as he watched you suffer. Each night, he lay awake, his mind spinning with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been.

He was exhausted from hearing your tears, from feeling your anger directed at him, from the overwhelming sense of rejection that seemed to seep into every corner of their relationship. But most of all, he was exhausted from the silent pain of losing a child, a pain that you seemed to have forgotten was his too.

As he lay there beside you, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of bitterness and resentment. He wanted to scream, to shake you and demand to know why you couldn’t see the pain he was in, why you couldn’t offer him the same comfort and support that he had tried so hard to give you.

But he knew that would only push you further away. So instead, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as if trying to bridge the growing divide between you.

It had been one month since the loss of your baby, and the house felt more like a ghost of the home it once was. Ben had thrown himself into work, spending long hours at the tower because you kept pushing him away. Meanwhile, you remained in your own world, a silent observer of a life that seemed to pass by without you.

You sat on the couch, curled into a blanket, staring out the window, lost in thought. The world outside moved on, but you felt stuck in a place of endless grief and numbness.

The front door opened, and Ben walked in, followed closely by Butcher. You barely registered their presence until Butcher's voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"For fuck’s sake, Soldier Boy!", Butcher snapped, his tone filled with frustration and concern. "You need to sleep. You almost got yourself killed today".

Ben's eyes were dark with exhaustion, the lines on his face deeper than usual. He rubbed his temples, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "I'm fucking fine, Butcher. I can handle it".

Butcher stepped closer, his expression hardening. "No, you bloody well can’t. Look at yourself. You’re a fucking mess, and it's gonna get you killed if you don’t get your shit together".

Ben's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I said I’m fine", he repeated, his voice edged with irritation. "Just drop it".

You watched the exchange from your spot on the couch, your heart aching for Ben but feeling too numb to intervene. The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air.

Butcher glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. "You two need to sort this out", he said more quietly. "This can’t go on".

Ben turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he turned away, the pain in his gaze clear.

You simply stood up, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your shoulders, and walked upstairs without another word. The sound of your footsteps on the stairs echoed through the house, amplifying the silence that followed.

Butcher turned to Ben, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking more defeated than Butcher had ever seen him.

“Ben, you need to face this head-on”, Butcher said, his tone a mixture of frustration and sympathy. “You can’t keep running on fumes and pretending everything’s fine”.

Ben dropped his hand from his face, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and helplessness. “What the fuck do you want me to do, Butcher?”, he snapped. “She doesn’t want to talk to me. She doesn’t want me around half the time. I don’t know what to do anymore”.

Butcher sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he looked at Ben. "I know it's tough, mate. But you can't keep going like this. You need to take a long-ass nap, clear your head, and try talking to her again tomorrow".

Ben nodded, the exhaustion evident in every line of his face. "Yeah, you're probably right", he admitted, his voice heavy with defeat.

Butcher clapped him on the shoulder, offering a small, supportive smile. "Get some rest, Soldier Boy".

With that, Butcher turned and left Ben alone in the living room, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Ben sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated his next move. He knew Butcher was right—he couldn't keep going like this. He needed to find a way to break through the wall of silence between him and you, even if it felt like an impossible task.

With a weary sigh, Ben made his way upstairs to the bedroom, hoping that a few hours of sleep might bring some clarity to the tangled mess of emotions swirling inside him.

As Ben lay beside you in bed, the weight of the past month pressing down on him, he felt a pang of sadness at the growing distance between you. Unlike two weeks ago, when you had sought comfort in his embrace, the last few days had been marked by a coldness that seemed to permeate every interaction between you.

With a heavy heart, Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out the pills Butcher had given him. He swallowed them without hesitation, hoping that they would bring him the elusive sleep that had eluded him for so long.

As he lay there, waiting for the pills to take effect, Ben felt the exhaustion of the past month wash over him like a tidal wave. His eyelids grew heavy, and he welcomed the darkness that enveloped him, if only for a few hours.

With a final sigh, Ben closed his eyes.

The next day, Ben woke up to find himself alone in bed. After taking a shower and getting dressed, he searched for you, eventually finding you sitting on the floor in front of the crib. He approached you cautiously, the tension in the air palpable.

"Hey", he said softly, his voice breaking the silence. "How are you feeling today?".

You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the empty crib before you. Ben's heart sank at the lack of response, but he refused to give up.

"I know this has been hard", he continued, his voice filled with empathy. "But we need to talk about what happened. We can't keep avoiding it forever".

Still, you said nothing, your silence like a barrier between you. Ben sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

"Please, (Y/N)", he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do this alone. I need you".

You snapped, your frustration boiling over. "Just leave me alone, Ben!", you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion.

But Ben, no longer overwhelmed by exhaustion, refused to back down. His patience had worn thin after a month of trying to navigate the minefield of your grief.

"I won't fucking leave you alone", he snapped, his temper finally breaking. "I'm fucking tired of this shit! We need to face this together, whether you like it or not".

His words hung in the air, the tension between you thick and heavy.

Ben’s steps were heavy as he closed the distance between you, his frustration palpable in every movement. With a firm grip, he cupped your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

“Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”. His voice cracked with raw emotion, a mix of anger and desperation lacing his words. “Baby, I can’t do this anymore", his voice breaking.

You pushed against Ben's grip, the overwhelming need to escape consuming you. With a determined strength, you stood up, ready to flee the suffocating confines of the room.

But Ben wasn't having it. In a swift motion, he grabbed both of your wrists, his touch firm yet gentle, pulling you back towards him. You stumbled against his chest, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you despite your resistance.

"Let me go", you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper, your heart heavy with sorrow.

But Ben held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, refusing to let you slip away. Your hands remained trapped between your bodies, a physical manifestation of the emotional barrier that had grown between you.

"Please", you whispered again, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I can't". Ben replied, his own voice choked with tears. "I can't lose you too".

As you wiggled free from Ben’s grasp once more, determination fueled your steps as you began to walk away from him, your heart heavy with the weight of your shared pain. But within seconds, the air crackled with tension, a palpable sense of impending doom hanging over the room.

All the weeks of Ben suppressing his emotions, of being unable to grieve openly, of shouldering the burden of strength for both of you, came crashing down in a torrent of rage and despair. With a primal scream of anguish, he grabbed the swinging chair nearby, his muscles tensing with the force of his fury.

In one swift, violent motion, he hurled the chair against the baby’s closet, the impact echoing through the room with a deafening crash. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass filled the air, mingling with your cries of shock and despair.

The closet collapsed under the force of the blow, its contents tumbling out in a chaotic jumble of memories and broken dreams. You stood frozen in horror, tears streaming down your cheeks as you watched the wreckage unfold before you.

As the chaos unfolded before your eyes, you screamed at Ben, the words tearing from your throat in a desperate plea for understanding. "What the fuck are you doing?!". Your voice echoed off the walls, a mixture of fear and anger fueling your words.

But Ben's rage consumed him, his eyes wild with desperation as he stormed towards the changing table. With a primal roar, he brought his fist down with a sickening thud, the wood splintering beneath the force of his blow.

You recoiled in horror, the sound reverberating through your bones as you watched him unleash his fury upon the furniture. But it was when he reached for the crib that your heart skipped a beat, a cold shiver coursing down your spine.

His hands hovered over the crib, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as his eyes landed on the little plush eagle nestled among the blankets. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken grief.

Tears welled in Ben's eyes, his chest heaving with emotion as he reached out to touch the soft fabric of the toy. And in that simple gesture, you saw the cracks in his armor, the raw vulnerability hidden beneath his facade of strength.

For a moment, the room fell silent, the only sound the soft whisper of your breath mingling with the quiet sobs that wracked Ben's body.

The soft glow emanating from Ben's chest pierced through the haze of grief that had consumed you for four long weeks. In that moment, the realization hit you like a bolt of lightning: Ben was hurting too. He had been shouldering the weight of your shared pain, sacrificing his own emotions to be strong for you.

With trembling steps, you approached him, the floor cold beneath your bare feet. You watched as he sank to his knees, the plush eagle clutched tightly in his hand, a symbol of the innocence lost and the love that still remained.

Your heart ached as you knelt before him, the weight of your sorrow pressing down upon you like a leaden shroud. But despite the heaviness of your grief, you reached out, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, offering what little comfort you could.

His body trembled beneath your touch, his breaths ragged and uneven as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Tears mingled with yours.

In that moment, you didn't care about the risk, about the possibility of his radiating chest exploding and engulfing you both in its fiery embrace. All that mattered was the need to hold him close, to offer him the comfort and solace he had so selflessly given you in your darkest hours.

With his face still buried against the curve of your neck, his silent sobs reverberating through your shared embrace, you pressed him closer to you, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You could feel the warmth of his tears mingling with your own, a bittersweet symphony of grief and love.

Time seemed to stand still as you held each other amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams, the world outside fading into insignificance. In that moment, there was only the two of you.

After what felt like an eternity, Ben finally wrapped his arms around your small frame, pulling you closer against him and onto his thighs, his grip strong and unwavering. Without lifting his head, he held you tightly, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing you forever.

———————————

A/N: Honestly, I fucking loved that chapter.. please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 3

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #angst #hurt/comfort #ben x you #ben #ben x reader #jensen ackles the boys #the boys hughie #billy butcher

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selfishdoll · 1 year ago

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❛ YOU SCARED OF ME?...❜

Watch you weigh your powers | Tempt with hours of pleasure ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ SEXTAPE

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

you were nothing more than yuji’s english tutor.. one who was always a little distracted by his older brother, kamo choso.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

yuji mention (not sexualized & you better not either), thigh slap, dom choso, ooc choso (ofc), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dumbification, pet names, praise, cervix fucking, etc. if i forgot something please let me know.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE. the way choso is slowly consuming my feed like i love this man. also as always, this fic is unedited so please excuses typos & grammar mistakes.

Glossed lips moved silently to the lyrics running through your airpods to your ears, face pushed against the palm of your hand— lazily scrolling through your instagram. Every so often your eyes would raise away from the screen, glancing out the windows to assure the uber you resided in was still on track. So far everything seemed fine, but you never knew nowadays.

Once satisfied with what you saw, you sunk back into the seat; pressing your lips together for a moment as you glanced at the time. 2:25. Perfect, you were right on schedule. You were about fice minutes away from your student’s house; Itadori Yuji. The poor boy was having such a hard time with English and being the nice upperclassman you were, you helped him.

Though, meeting his fine older brother; Kamo Choso was an added bonus. You two didn’t talk often as he usually came in the middle of your tutoring session, giving his brother a quick hello and you a wave. Other times Choso would offer food, you pleasantly surprised to see something for yourself as well. He was sweet, quiet— but sweet. Given the hopeless romantic you are, you were bound to fall for him.

And fall you did, unable to hold eye contact whenever he simply said hello, or asked how you’re doing. Looking away whenever he would smile or laugh at something his brother said, even sinking into yourself when he was around you; afraid you would melt from even the slightest of touches. You were whipped and you so desperately hoped he didn’t know.

The uber soon slowed infront of the Itadori-Kamo residence, glancing back at you with a friendly smile. You gave one back, “Thank you so much.” Collecting your tote bag and other belongings you opened the car door and exited soon after, closing it behind you. Your eyes trailed over the house noticing the black sleek car sitting the drive way, causing your heart to thump— Choso was home. You took a deep breath, glancing over your attire and secretly thankful you settled for something slightly presentable; a simple black spaghetti strap dress and black, wedge sandals. Though, it shouldn’t matter much— Choso stayed in his room unless he needed something from the kitchen or needed to tell Yuji something.

Walking up the path, you stepped onto the porch and approached the door. You knocked, hand falling to your side to wait patiently. Moments passed before the door opened, revealing Choso clad in his usual attire of sweats and a black shirt, the only thing missing being his adorable hair bones; tresses resting against his shoulders in a messy fashion.

Your cheeks went warm the moment the male smiled at you, “Hey (Y/N), Yuji didn’t tell me you two were studying today.” His tone was so smooth, pleasant to your ears; head tilted just a bit as he not-so secretly took in your appearance.

“Yeah, well— It was a spontaneous decision. He just wanted to get in a little extra studying before a quiz.”

Choso gave a soft chuckle, “Well.. he double booked. He’s at Megumi’s place right now with Nobara too..” He stepped to the side, opening the door wider and tilting his head to the side in a come in motion, “Come, Ill call him.”

You nodded, a nervous smile pulling your features. “Yeah okay.” Stepping through the threshold you made your way over to the living room, sitting on the couch with your knees pulled close. Choso was close behind you, waltzing over to the other side of the long end furniture to sit down, pressing the phone against his ear.

A comfortable silence entered the room for a moment, you perking up the moment Choso began to speak.

“Yuji, (Y/N) is here to tutor you. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.” He hummed, blinking slowly for a moment before shaking his head. “Alright. See you then.” Pulling the device away from his ear he cut the call, placing it off to the side and glancing at you. “He said sorry, he’ll be here in about forty minutes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” You smiled, watching as he gave a simple nod back before his eyes turned to the television. Reaching for the remote, he pressed play, Texas Chainsaw Massacre starting up. You sunk into the cushion to get comfortable, deciding to distract yourself from the man you were pining for, literally cushions away from you. As pathetic as it sounded it was hard, eyes stealing glances to his form every so often; mapping his features.

From the way his eyebrows would raise at a particularly gruesome part, or his lip would quirk at something humorous. Of course you would notice such little things, it would be cute if you didn’t find yourself so creepy.

The man shifted in his seat, hips adjusting as his legs spread just a bit wider across the couch. Oh, if you had known any better he did that on purpose just to mess with you.

You finally tore your gaze away, leaning into the arm rest to pretend you just weren’t eye fucking him. Getting caught was the last thing you wanted to happen.

“The movie scaring you or somethin’?” Was what Choso suddenly said, causing you to jump. Your face turned, spotting the male already staring at you, amusement tainting his expression. You shook your head far too quickly. “No. It’s not scaring me.”

His eyebrows rose a bit, turning back to the movie as his arm stretched out upon the back of the couch. “Must be me you’re scared of then.”

A mixture of a surprised scoff and chuckle escaped you, turning a little to face him. “Scared of you?” The questioned rolled of your tongue in a flabbergasted manner, watching the man give a shrug. You smiled with a small shake of your head, “You’re far too nice to be scared of.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” A certain tone hugged his words, the playful atmosphere dissipating instantly. “Its why you can never look me in the eye when we speak.. why you undress me with your eyes when you think I don’t notice.” Your dirty secrets spilled from his lips as if reading from a book. Your eyes widened, watching as he so casually turned back to the movie.

“You.. knew?”

“Mhm.” Again, so nonchalant, so casual. Oblivious to the inner turmoil inside of you. You nervously thumbed the case of your phone, heart threatening to escape your chest as you softly croaked; “Ar.. are you gonna do something about it?”

“You want me to?”

“Yes.” You answered quickly, finally stealing his gaze away from the movie. He was crossing the cushions in minutes, fingers finding your cheeks to pull you into a kiss. Your lips devoured each other, heat resting between the two of you. Fingers trailed down, clasping around your throat as he deepened the kiss. “Slow down, princess; my lips aren’t going anywhere.” Choso murmured against your own, pushing you into the couch. His tongue pushed through your lips easily, curling around your own pink muscle to slowly suck and play with. The man’s free hand carried to your side, thumb pressing against your plump, covered skin; tracing it every so often.

Moments passed before you two pulled apart, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lips as breaths fanned across each other’s faces. Choso pushed forward, lifting you for a moment before resting you in his lap, leaning you against the arm rest. His hands carried across your form, fingers hooking onto the straps of your dress and tugging it down your body, allowing the top to rest at your waist. To his surprise — and enjoyment — you were braless, his eyes feasting away on the sight of your naked breasts; pretty brown mounds with freckles decorating the skin. Choso reached over, grasping both in his large hands, enjoying the way the warmth covered his palms.

One squeeze and you were breathing softly, eyes closing as he leaned into your neck, pressing kisses against your skin. His thumbs rolled across your areola and slowly hardening nipple, pressing them in and simply toying with them. The light pleasure had your hips moving in his lap, hands rising to curl your pretty pink acrylics into his hair, tugging the moment you felt him bite your collarbone.

The love bites didn’t stop there, leading them to the valley between your breast and then over to your right one, tongue tracing your skin; collecting your hard nipple into his mouth. His hips pressed close against your own, tongue circling the bud— continuing to rub the other. Pleasure traveled between your legs, lips parted as soft breaths escaped you. You gasped the moment he gently bit down, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Choso, please..” You called out to him, enjoying the treatment but needing more. You’ve waited far too long for this and were far too needy to go slow. Except, Choso didn’t give a damn about that. Despite the looming threat of his younger brother walking in at anytime, he intended to take his time with you. Torturing you for the torture you put him through daily.

Dressing in those pretty tops that cupped your breasts so nicely, those dresses that hugged your ass and rolls perfectly, let alone how you acted around him; so sweet and shy, yet your eyes would wander. No.. he was going to explore each part of you, no matter how long it took.

So the moment he shook his head you were whining; attempting to grind in his lap only to gasp the moment his palm struck the inside of your thigh. His hand smoothed to ease the pain, other hand moving back to your neck and gently holding it. “You’ll be good and wait.. I’m not rushing with you.”

The moment you pouted his thumb was rising to push against your lips, leaning just a bit closer. “Or I could just walk away now— leaving you all needy and desperate for me. Would you like that instead?” The man could nearly grin at how fast you shook your head, tracing your lips for a moment before moving the digit away to plant a soft kiss against them. “Thought so. Just sit and wait princess, you’ll get what you want.”

With that his hands were tugging your dress down fully, leaving you in black panties and nothing more. Taking in your form, his hands focused on removing his shirt and tossing it beside your clothes. Choso’s hands found your waist, backing away a bit to pull you to lay on the cushions, spreading your legs so one hung over the edge of the couch and one rested on top of it.

You hissed softly as his thumb pushed against your covered slit, rubbing little circles across your bud. Your nails scratched the couch a little, a damp spot collecting on your panties, his pace quickening for a moment before moving his hand to instead pull your panties to the side; revealing your wet sex to him. Choso licked his lips slowly, reaching over with his other hand to rub your uncovered bud with his thumb, watching your legs widen as the pleasure grew.

This continued until two fingers teased your entrance, coating them in your essence before slowly pushing in. The man hissed softly as your walls clenched around his thick digits, continuing to push until he was knuckle deep. Once inside he wasted no time in scissoring and stretching you out, slow deep thrusts carrying in and out of you.

The pleasure formed in the pit of your stomach, leaning your head back as moans escaped you. It was only his fingers yet they felt so good, deeper than your own. Pushing against your gummy walls, brushing against a spot that caused stars to dance in your eyes. He pressed harder on your clit, your back arching as a swear escaped you. “Choso.. oh fuck—“

“Oh, look at that..” Choso drawled softly, soft squelches entering the room with each push inside and out. “Dripping all over my fingers, making such a mess pretty girl.” He smiled at the whine that escaped you, leaning to kiss against the inside of your thigh, biting the warm skin gently just to feel you twitch.

Your hand lowered, clamping around his wrist, feeling his muscles with each thrust of his fingers. Your lips was caught between your teeth, hips moving as your arousal grew; a band forming in your stomach.

Noticing this, his pace quickened, leaning down to stamp kisses against your skin. “Go on princess, fuck your self on my fingers; make me a mess.” He cooed right into your ear, eating up each moan and gasp that escaped your bruised lips. Pushing and pushing your walls clenched around his digits, coming within seconds.

Praise escaped him, fingers fucking you through your high for a moment before slowing down— soon pulling them out of you. He rose his hand to his face, lapping up your juices all while his eyes trailed over your form. Just from his fingers you were panting heavily, eyes glossy and looking at him as if he painted the moon and stars themselves. That look plus your taste was driving him crazy, having half a brain to dive between your legs in search of more.

Instead his hands fell to his sweats, pushing the baggy fabric down along with his boxers; revealing his hard length. The man pushed close, your eyes gazing down, clenching at the fact he reached your belly button. You breathed when you felt his fingers collect your release, spreading it across his cock to lubricate just a bit.

Once satisfied he was grabbing the base, lining up with your entrance and slowly, pushing in. You whimpered softly, feeling the man lean closer, planting a kiss under your eye. “Relax for me (Y/N)..” Choso breathed softly, hand trailing to your knee to lift onto his shoulder, continuing to push in. You relaxed as best as you could, breathing slowly and glancing up at the man who smiled at you. “That’s it.. good girl. I’m almost there.”

You nodded slowly, eyes pinched closed as his hips continued to push forward, stilling the moment he was fully inside. You felt full, his cock pulsating inside you, waiting patiently for you to adjust. You remained still for a few minutes, smiling at the way Choso continued to kiss any spot he could reach. Soon enough you were fine, hips raising to signal the man above you.

He understood quickly, pulling his hips back so only the tip rested in inside; pushing back in slowly. Choso carefully watched as he delivered more experimental thrusts, searching for any discomfort or unhappiness. When neither presented itself all restraints were lost, thrusts increasing in speed and intensity.

Soon enough his weight was placed behind each, fucking you into the cushions all while mumbling praises right into your ear. From how pretty you split around him to how good you felt— each word melting your brain into mush.

Gasps and moans of his name escaped, nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure intensified. You couldn’t think of anything but him, couldn’t feel anything but his cock driving in and out of you; stirring you up, ruining you.

Choso’s hand found your cheeks, tapping his fingers against your cheek as if to pull you back from ecstasy. The man hissed the moment your pretty glossy eyes focused onto his face, “Yeah, focus here sweetheart.. right here. You feel me, how deep am I?” A rhetorical question, he knew enough you were too fucked out to answer such a thing. Too lost to even realize he was far deeper then he should be. So instead of a coherent answer all Choso got was a high pitched cry of his name;

“Choso..! Mmh—!”

“I know my name sweetheart, I asked how deep I was.” The grin he gave was cocky, removing his hand from your face to instead snatch your own from his shoulder; pressing your palm on your stomach. With each ram inside your messy cunt you felt it against your hand, the man pressing even harder just to hear you scream. Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in with each drag of his cock before you shook; creaming all over his length.

Choso breathed at the feeling, looking at where you were connected to spot your mess dripping down his dick, and onto the couch. He would worry about the ruined furniture later; you were top priority at the moment.

His eyes snapped back to your face the moment you began to pant, coming closer all while his hips continued to move. “So fucking pretty (Y/N).. think you can do that again?” Before you could reply Choso was grabbing your arm whilst pulling out of you, turning you on the couch. You braced yourself, hands gripping the armrest as you glanced behind you, spotting the man lining back up with your entrance.

“Choso—!” Your eyes rolled back the moment he thrusted back in, merciless as he fucked you. There was no holding back, rocking your body back and forth between him and the armrest with each thrust. Your nails dug into the furniture, pleasured screams escaping you. His hands were tight on your hips, leaving you with no way to escape.

Legs shaking, sweat settled onto your skin, tired walls clenching around his relentless cock; you were a complete mess. But given how good Choso was fucking you right now— you couldn’t care less.

“Look at that.. fuck—“ Choso gasped out, eyes glued to the way your body shook with each thrust, how your walls clenched around him. His fingers dug into your plump skin, sure to leave marks, reminders of your love making. The man leaned over your withering body, chest flush against your back as he pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear all while his arms wrapped tight around your waist. No more words were needed or rather could be spoke as he drilled into you, your combined breathing covering the room, chasing your releases.

You clenched the armrest so much it began to hurt, eyebrows furrowed closed, nearly drawing blood from how hard you were biting your lip. You were so close, so fucking close it began to hurt; the dam breaking the moment he reached down, circling to fingers against your clit. Your back arched, clamping hard as you came harshly, throat raw and voice abused.

Choso was close behind, pushing in deep and stuffing you full, painting your walls white. Your tired body slumped against the couch, legs shaking, attempting to catch your breath. You whimpered as Choso pulled out, feeling him lift and turn your body to rest against his front; smoothing his fingers across your thigh.

The room was silent, simply basking in his warmth and affection, hand trailing to your ass to gently massage. The gentleness was soon interrupted though when Choso’s phone rang, the man reaching over and picking it up.

Your heart sank seeing the contact name, sitting up to glance at the man with worried eyes. Choso’s hand rose to your cheek, accepting the call. “Hey Yuji, you okay?”

“I’ve been trying to call you to tell you I wanted to reschedule with (Y/N), Nobara and I are gonna stay at Megumi’s! Were you busy or something?”

Choso glanced at you for a moment before looking away with a lopsided smirk. “Or something.. Anyways, I’ll tell (Y/N)— try to be better with your schedule next time.”

Yuji gave a small understood before cutting the call, allowing you to smack Choso’s chest with an irritated expression. The man soothed the area, glancing down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What if he had walked in?!” You hissed softly, Choso smirking a little, hands resting on your hips.

“You didn’t seem too concerned about it when you were under me.”

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #choso kamo x female reader #choso kamo x black reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x female reader #choso kamo smut

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evmrellie · 8 months ago

Text

Labyrinth | s.r x gn!reader

summary: You're scared about your feelings for Spencer. Insp by labyrinth from Taylor Swift.

genre: fluffly and hurt/comfort. pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader (I'm a girl so I wrote going on this way, but I think I didn't gave any descriptions abt being one, so it's totally safe for gn!readers <333 if I did, I'm sorry, I didn't notice.) words: 1,3K warnings: family issues, inexperienced!reader, reader never being in a relationship before, insecurity, anxiety, mention of toxic relationships (not between reader and anyone else) notes: hiii, this is my first oneshot so plss be nice 😭✋🏻 im not used to write like this, but I'm so obsessed with Spencer and I had this idea and I couldn't just let go. English it's not my first language, so forgive me if any mistakes or if u guys don't understand smth. not proofread. hope you guys like it !! <3

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

You've never trusted relationships, not that you had experienced any, but what you saw growing up? What you were used to? Didn't make you want to get into one in the first place.

You never denied that you've dreamed about that; finding a true love and a nice, healthy relationship since you saw all your friends living it. That hurted you a little, but you learned how to live with it.

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You tried to catch your breath, adjusting it as much as possible. You were used to unlearn the ability of breathing when you were around people who made you nervous, especially if you had a slightly crush on them. Actually, you unlearn every normal thing that humans do when they interact, it's like a part of your brain stops working and refused to turn it on again. He loved to make you embarrassed, especially in front of pretty nerd ish boys.

The first time you met Spencer it consumed all of your brain chemistry. Day and night making fantasies of how it would be meeting the boy again with the help of destiny, falling in love and maybe being obsessed with you the same way you were with him. But you knew that it was just a fantasy and it would never happen, it was just your brain trying to distract you from the real world and your real problems.

It was a nice escape though.

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Everything happened so fast in your time vision, it terrified you of how easy he was able to get through it. You were always scared of relationships because, yeah, it was nice and easy to fantasy about it, but to actually live it? That scared the shit out of you. All your Inexperience, insecurities and traumas couldn't be fixed from one day to another.

Everything that you learned from your parents was that if you dived in too quickly, it would be a mistake. Not only from your parents, but also from people you were close to, seeing their relationship rise too fast and going effortlessly and awfully down.

You never understood why they keept doing it, sinking into the same situation over and over again, sometimes with the same or a different guy. How they kept being pulled and compelled by it? You didn't understand because you never felt it.

It was so scary how relationships could rise so fast and sink at the same speed.

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

You understood why they kept like that in the worst — best— way possible.

When it first hit you that you were falling in love with Spencer felt like a harsh slap in your face, leaving red bruises and a terrible burning in. You didn't want to accept it, it was frightening to actually let it in.

Was getting hard with the passing time, he wasn't getting any easier and neither were his loving and caring acts. I mean, how could someone like him be so.. careful with you? You felt like a broken piece who would never be loved and receive this kinda of treatment, it was starting to confuse you.

You knew he wasn't the type of person who liked being touched or touching other ones, but with you? Every possibility of being close to you, hugging you, touching your hand and giving a sweet cuddle in that same spot was driving you insane. He made sure that any free time he had, he spent with you. Or even at work, in his free time that he used to call you.

Reid talked to you about his mom and his abandonment issues with his father so openly that made you open yourself with him too. You didn't want to scare him telling him about your family situation or make him think you're a weird, problematic person, but you couldn't let him vent to you and not say a thing. He hasn't change with you. In fact, it only bought you both closer.

You ended up accepting what you felt for him, you didn't want to fight against it, deep down was a comfort feeling. For the first time you felt what everyone around you always talked about. And oh god, it really was an amazing feeling. But no, you would never tell him that. The thought of how this could end so fast after telling him that because probably it wasn't reciprocal, hurted you so bad that keeping it to yourself was the best decision you could make.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice called you off of your own thoughts, his Cheshire Cat smile growing as he saw your face turning into a shade of burgundy.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like a deer lost in the headlights.” He snorted a laugh.

“What?! I'm not-“

He interrupted you, getting up from the chair where he was lost doing his usual puzzles. Spencer walked over to you, resting one of his hands on your face while the other one brushed away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You automatically snuggled your face between Spencer's hands, smirking and closing your eyes, enjoying the gentle caress his fingers made on your cheeks.

“Tell me, please.” He begged you, you could easily hear the smile into his words. He was always so polite, it made you want to scream into a pillow and kick your feets in the air.

You sighed, tired to hide how you felt.

“Honestly? About you. I think I already fell for you.”

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

You were scared of his reaction, to look at him and see his eyes falling in pity for you; About him suddenly telling you to go home because he didn't felt the same and saying that this wouldn't work between you two. But to be honest, you couldn't hide anymore, not for him and not for yourself. You needed to break free from this labyrinth you created on your mind, there's no way you could keep up with this and stay cool like it didn't made your chest burn everytime you looked at him.

He surprised you by just laughing softly.

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

“Well, i’m pretty sure i am terriefiedly in love with you.”

You swore that if this was a joke you would combust and turn into a million pieces of yourself, no one would ever find you again.

Your eyes caught up at his sparkling hazel irises that conveyed how much he begged for the same answer. You always felt something carving like a dagger inside your chest when he looked at you like that, like you could break him with any wrong do.

It was absolutely terrifying how easy he broke you to this, to this situation where you could never lie and deny that you felt the exactly same for him. You were head over heels for him. Not in a million of worlds you could imagine that Spencer Reid felt the same thing you did for him, but you were also pretty sure that you were the one who would end up with the heart completely shattered if this ever come to an end.

“I love you so much, Spence.” You said, and then his lips parted open and you were able to feel his sweet taste coming into yours.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spenced feid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid x fem!reader

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rafeysbafey · 1 year ago

Text

✮ MY SHIRT, YOUR SHIRT —RAFE CAMERON

SUMMARY. rafe notices you at a party and is there to take you home when you aren’t feeling well.

WARNINGS. soft(ish)!rafe, drinking, language, fluff

WORD COUNT. 1.5k

masterlist

you swayed your hips to the blasting music that seemed to consume your every thought, not being able to hear sarah as you only nodded absently when she spoke.

you could however understand her when she passed you a shot, a grin plastered on the girls face as she threw her head back.

you followed after, letting the strong liquid burn your throat before falling into sarah’s side—the two of you holding each other as giggles fell from your lips.

“topper!” you shouted, noticing the boy that had been eyeing sarah the entire night.

when she furrowed her eyebrows together, giving you a confused look, you took hold of her shoulders and spun her around.

she gave you a cheeky grin before pointing at him, raising her eyebrows in a questioning manner.

you quickly nodded before pushing her through the crowd, letting her approach the boy as they immediately started chatting.

you spun on your heel and made your way through the crowd, on the search for more drinks after feeling quite content with playing cupid.

a very drunk cupid, but it’s the thought that counted.

you quickly found yourself in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge as you hummed to yourself—mindlessly following the beat to the music that had faded to the background.

your eyes landed on an unopened seltzer can, taking it in your hands before slamming the fridge shut.

you were about to crack it open but froze when your vision clouded, black spots appearing in your line of sight.

your feet seemed to stumble over one another, your hands falling onto the counter as the drink rolled across the marble.

before you could balance yourself and go find sarah, you felt your body go limp and fall slump towards the ground.

bracing yourself to make contact with the floor beneath, you closed your eyes and waited for it to happen.

instead, you felt your body make contact with a stiff chest whose arms wrapped around your figure, not wasting time to drag you away.

‘just perfect’ you thought to yourself before you completely blacked out.

. . .

you woke up to the sun blanketing over your eyes, a groan falling from your lips as you pulled the covers over your body.

‘covers?’

your eyes shot open as you forced yourself to sit up, a whimper escaping your mouth at the jolt of pain that ran through your body.

your head felt like it was previously used as a bowling ball, eyes straining to be kept open as you let them observe your surroundings.

the room you sat in felt familiar, but not in a way you had hoped.

deciding you needed to leave, you tossed the covers off your body and swung your legs over the side.

before your feet had the chance to make contact with the floor, they fell on something more…human.

“fuck!” someone groaned, causing you to jolt up in surprise.

before you could have time to process what was happening, the person you wanted to see least had appeared from the floor.

rafe cameron.

you had been close friends with sarah for a while now, practically living at tannyhill with how much time you spent there.

so you were bound to run into her older brother—the big scary kook king everyone feared and or hated.

he was never particularly mean to you, he would just throw you looks or little witty comments whenever you would get in his way.

so you made it your goal to not cross him—although you did find him cute.

the boy was attractive, yes, but his reputation and attitude towards others was a big turn off for you.

or at least that’s what you kept reminding yourself.

“wha- what the fuck are you doing here?” you sputtered out, not realizing how harsh you had sounded.

the boy let out a dry chuckle as he pushed himself off the floor, your eyes landing on his bare torso.

his prominent abs were on full display, your eyes trailing down to his hips that were covered in grey sweats.

his happy trail disappeared beneath the fabric, causing you to gulp as you forced yourself to look back up.

‘fuck i was looking too long.’

“this is my room, darling” he spoke, voice raspy as a small smirk made its way to his lips.

your stomach couldn’t help but form butterflies, your throat now feeling dry as you tried to form words.

“can you just— just put on a shirt,” you spat, trying to mask your flustered tone with annoyance but failed to do so.

“can’t” he shrugged, only causing you to scoff as you finally forced yourself to stand.

you wobbled slightly, finding stability by holding onto the night stand—your head spinning as your eyes squeezed shut.

“and why is that?” you asked, finally turning towards rafe as your lips curled into a frown, eyebrows bunched together in annoyance.

“you’re wearing it, darling.”

your eyes went wide as your mouth dropped slightly, head finally titling down to view the fabric that covered your upper half.

it was in fact, his shirt.

“did you see me naked?!” were the first words that rushed out of your mouth, worry setting in at the thought of rafe cameron seeing you without clothes.

he let out a groan as he ran a hand over his face, rafe probably hungover as well now that you thought about it.

“you passed out at the party—don’t know if you remember but i was the one that saved your ass from hitting the ground,” he said causing you to squint your eyes.

unfortunately, you could not remember anything after your first shot last night.

“so i decided to take you home—let you sleep in sarah’s room,” he explained before waving his hand in the air, “but you’re obviously not in her room.”

you nodded slowly, allowing him to continue as he chewed on your bottom lip.

“you woke up briefly and threw up on yourself—well, on your dress,” he said causing your face to fall red.

“oh my god,” you mumbled, putting your head in your hands as you prayed this was all a dream.

“so i brought you to my room to get changed, i didn’t see much—just you in your bra and underwear,” he added, a soft blush appearing on his features but you didn’t see.

“but before i could take you back to her room, you knocked out on my bed.”

you finally found the courage to look up at him, making eye contact as you gulped in embarrassment.

“so you…you what? slept on the floor?”

he let out a laugh, causing you to frown as he spoke—“i mean, it is still my room.”

it felt like there was a pit of guilt in your stomach, now realizing he slept on the floor last night because of you.

“im sorry,” you mustered out, swallowing your courage as the boy furrowed his eyebrows.

“i could care less where i sleep, im just glad i was there to take you home instead of some creep.”

he was right—you let sarah leave you alone with strangers surrounding you, which now in your sober state, made you shudder.

unbeknownst to you though, rafe didn’t just so happen to be in the kitchen when you passed out.

he had actually been watching you the entire night, no matter how creepy it sounds—you were his little sisters friends, and sure he found you pretty.

okay, rafe had a small crush on you. although he would never admit it, he made it his goal to not let a single thing happen to you at the party.

“is uh, sarah back?” you mumbled, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible.

“i heard her stumble in shortly after we got back, topper drove her home.”

you hummed quietly at this information, nodding before awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

“ill just…just go.”

you moved to the door as quickly as possible, but before you could turn the knob, rafe cleared his throat.

‘oh god what now?’ you thought, turning around slowly to meet his gaze.

“yes?”

“my shirt,” he said, a small grin on his face as your eyes widened.

“oh shit—yea, shit,” you sputtered out, quickly going to pull the fabric over your head but froze when he let out a laugh.

“not right now!”

you yanked the shirt back down, face a dark red as you gulped once again, “i knew that.”

you opened the door and stumbled out as fast as possible, slamming it shut behind you before groaning lowly.

“that did not just happen,” you mumbled to yourself, running your hands over your face before making your way to sarah’s room.

a/n: the scene at the end was supposed to be a kissing booth reference lol lol lol lol

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #rafefics #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x y/n #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe imagine

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jonathan-samuel-smith · 1 year ago

Note

Lord Jon and Prince Damian is a funny combination because just imagine Clark never managed to conquer all earth because magic and magic user, Talia basically built a huge kingdom to protect her people from the Lords and also accepts some others who are fleeing.

Years past and Jon has always been curious about that place and laughs when he faces Talia's youngest soldiers. He falls in love deeply hard about that boy with green eyes, then Jon starts to try to seduce that cute and smol boy (and Damian hates him deeply)

Just imagine:

Jon: *throws a body at his door like a cat*

Damian: ... Some guys bring flowers

Jon: I'm not 'some guy'

And also

J: "i've killed for you. how many other people can say that?"

D: "... Multiple, actually"

Basically: Lord Jon's love language is being annoying

Took me a while to figure out how I'd write the Super Lords, but eventually I was inspired by another work. I might write a sequel to this but we'll see. Fic under the cut.

Jon was scrolling on his phone, looking to find people talking negatively about him or his father so he could send them death threats. He could probably find them easily and make good on those threats, but then he'd have to get up, and he was comfortable where he was. He was getting a little peckish though, so he might run through a couple if he got up to eat.

His dad came into the room looking flawless. “Jon.”

“Hey dad, can you get me something to eat?”

“What? No. Get it yourself, or better yet, ask Kelex.”

“I thought you took away my voice commands after I killed the wrong general last week.”

“Oh, right. Have the knowledge crystals not taught you how to hack yet?”

Jon groaned ”I hate the knowledge crystals dad, they take so much time. I don't see the point in them.”

“The point is they would teach you how to solve problems, like how to reinstate your voice commands in Kelex’s code. Now get up, I have something important for you to do.”

Jon got up and stretched. “Oh I'm way hungrier than I thought. Hold that thought, Dad.”

“Jona–” Kal started sternly as a gust of wind blew past him. He could hear Jon ferociously consuming junk food from the pantry in superspeed. When he was done, he ran back up to his dad.

“Hey Dad, I'm back. What's up?”

“What do you know about Talia Al Ghul?”

“Oh that's easy. She's like, your archnemesis. Her family's got really strong magic so she can kill us if she gets close enough. She controls the last stronghold of human resistance. She's older than you so she's, what, a million?” He grinned cheekily “Just kidding, Dad. You don't look a day over 500.” He laughed. “Kidding! You should see the look on your face.”

“Jon, I'm being serious here.”

“‘kay.”

“She's just crowned her heir, Prince Damian. He's your age.”

“Oh?”

“He's an even more powerful mage than his mother, and trained in martial arts. He is a serious threat, one that needs to be neutralized.”

“Ok, but how am I gonna do that? You said he's more powerful than his mom, and you can't kill her.”

“He takes his group of soldiers into the Himalayas every month to train privately. I want you to ambush them.”

“Kill them, right? How do you want them dead?”

“Doesn't matter.”

“Alright. I'll be right back.”

Kal grabbed his arm and dug his fingers in hard enough to bruise. “You could die today, Jon. Take this seriously. Run away if you need to. You're no good to me dead.”

Jon nodded. “Got it.”

Jon flew to the mountains and looked for them with his heat vision. He found them fighting each other and flew down and started snapping the neck of the closest person to him. Unfortunately, this was slow enough to draw alarm from the other assassins, who all knew magical attacks. Still, Jon was quick and he fought dirty, letting out a deafening shout and causing an avalanche. The teens fought him with martial arts married with magic, sacrificing their lives so that the final assassin could defeat Jon and place him in magical bindings.

He spat blood. “You're lucky they can be brought back to life, or I wouldn't have spared yours.”

“I didn't ask you to. But thank you– not for sparing my life, but for beating me. I've never lost before. It was exhilarating! Can you do it again?”

The boy looked at him strangely. “What?”

Jon grinned manically. “You're a great fighter. I want you to defeat me again. And again and again until I get bored. What's your name? I never even lose to my dad.”

“... I am prince Damian Al Ghul.”

“Oh no way! I came here to kill you! Well, I'm not doing that anymore.”

“Clearly not.” Damian said, gesturing to the chains around him.

“Oh no, not cuz of that. I meant cuz like–” Jon cut himself off as Damian took off his mask and piercing green eyes met his own. “Wow, you're really pretty. I've never seen anyone as pretty as you in my whole life. Definitely not prettier. I think I was saying something?”

Damian blushed. “Tt. You were saying why you're not going to kill me.”

“I think I'm in love with you.”

“What?!” Damian squeaked.

“That was so cute! You're so cute! You're so small you look like you'd fit just right in my arms!”

“Go back to the ‘I love you’ part because I'm not understanding!” He shouted.

“I'll say it as many times as you want! I love you, I love you, iloveyouiloveyouiloveyoui–”

“Stop! You can't love me, you just met me, and your dad is superman!”

“Um, I'm pretty sure I can. Love at first sight is a thing, and I've known you for longer than that already.”

“So what, just because you think I'm pretty and I beat you for the first time, you're in love with me?”

“Is that not enough? Ok well, I really like the color of your eyes, and you're really powerful, and you make me feel so many feelings I have never felt before! Fear, excitement, curiosity, admiration, respect, awe, happiness, arousal–”

“Stop talking.”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous.”

“That's talking.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Still talking.”

“I don't know how you want me to stop talking if you keep talking to me. Oh but uh, don't stop, I like it.”

Damian facepalmed. “I'm taking you back to my mother.”

“Oh I hope she doesn't decide to kill me after you went through the trouble of sparing me, that would be really embarrassing for you.”

Damian was quiet for a few minutes. “...You've never felt curious? Or excited, or afraid or happy? Really?”

Jon shrugged. “Maybe once. But nowadays I'm always either bored or bloodthirsty. Except right now, I'm neither. You're the most interesting person I've ever met and I just killed 5 people. That's like, 1 more than I usually do in a day.”

Damian set his jaw hard. “Why do you kill so many people?”

“Why do you think, assassin Prince? To feel alive.”

“...Who do you usually kill?”

“Dissidents and criminals. My dad's okay if they're dissidents or criminals. There's not, like, a ton of those out there anymore, though, so I've taken to scrolling back really far on Twitter. Oh, and jaywalkers.”

“Tt. Typical.”

“Who do you usually kill?”

“Political enemies, soldiers, criminals.”

“I guess everyone's a political enemy when they're aligned with us and not you. That's a lot more people you can kill. I kinda wanna join your side now.”

“We don't kill frivolously.”

“Why not?”

“Because we value human life.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Why does your father care about order if not to preserve human life?”

Jon laughed. “My dad doesn't care about humans! He just wanted to tidy things up. He gets mad when I kill other people because it messes with his system. It's one of those dumb parent rules, like keeping your socks in the sock drawer, or cleaning the fortress on Sundays even though we have robot servants.”

“... You're completely insane.”

“Do you want me not to be?”

Damian furrowed his brow. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I want you to get what you want! You deserve to get anything you want, way more than my dad does. I bet you could with your magic! Cast a spell on me, make me sane for you. If you want that, I want it.”

“It's Jonathan, isn't it?”

“Yeah, or you can call me Jon. Or you know, whatever you want. Even if it's mean, I can take it.”

“...Jonathan. I don't want to take your agency away with my magic. That wouldn't be right.”

Jon shrugged against his chains. “If you say so, my prince.” Damian was quiet for a while, and Jon slipped free of his chains to help Damian cart back all of the bodies. “You should let me carry this.”

“What– Jon?! How did you escape my bindings?”

“Magic interacts completely unpredictably with me.”

“I don't– why are you even still here?”

“Why would I leave? It's not as if there's anything more interesting on TV. Twitter says all the shows are boring cuz of Dad. Well, you know, the dead side of Twitter. God do you know how perfect you look? From every angle?”

“Jon, I think you should just leave.”

“Well, my dad is expecting me home soon. What do you think I should tell him about you not being dead?”

“... Is he going to hurt you if you go back?”

Jon shrugged. “If I let him. Which I probably will, so I don't get grounded. But I might be grounded anyway since this meant a lot to him. If I don't get grounded, can I see you again?”

“It's best if you don't.”

“I'm going to be honest, I don't like that answer. If you want me to stay away you'll have to use your magic to harm me.”

“Tt. Do you have a death wish?”

“No. My biggest wish is for you to spar with me and win.”

“What if I lose?”

“Then we'll go again until you win.”

“...Hm. You're very… persistent.”

Jon grinned. “Thanks. Wow, it feels really good when you compliment me. Do it again.”

“Um… you have really unique eyes?”

Jon beamed. “This is great, keep going!”

Damian blushed. “I'd rather not.”

Jon pouted. “Pleeeeaaase? I'll do anything.”

“Will you go home?”

“Fine, yes, after… 3 more compliments. Then I'll go home, for now.”

“Tt. Your curls look very nice, your hair makes a nice contrast against your skin tone and you– ah… you… that is, you're very strong.”

“I already knew that last one.”

“I meant muscular.”

“That's not a compliment, that's just a fact.”

Damian’s ears burned. “...I like it. I like that about you. I like that you're muscular. It looks… visually appealing.”

“Oh, I'm definitely in love with you. I'd love to stay and compliment you back, but I said I'd leave, and I want you to trust me! If you ever need me, or just want me, all you have to do is call. I'll come.”

Jon flew back home. “Dad? I ambushed him, caused an avalanche, and killed his squad, but he still beat me.” Jon called out.

Kal walked out to see his son. “You look unharmed. Why did he let you go?”

“Honestly? I think I annoyed him too much. But I'm going back tomorrow.”

“I see… an ambush didn't work, so you'll have to gain his trust and then betray him. I was going to punish you but your tenacity and cunning deserve a reward, so it is simpler to do nothing.

“Oh, yeah, psh, that's totally why I want to go back. I totally want to murder him in cold blood. I mean, you know how much I love murder.”

Kal frowned. “I do know. It gets in the way of your studies. However, this time I approve.”

“‘kay. Thanks. See ya.” He went back to his room to watch Damian with his X-ray vision.

The next day, Jon went to Nanda Parbat and watched Damian from the sky, waiting until he was alone to approach him.

Damian’s hair was slicked back with sweat and he was flushed and panting.

“Prince Damian. You look somehow even more incredible than last time.”

“Spare me the mockery.”

“What? I'm not mocking you. The way your skin flushes and glistens is as enchanting as any of your spells, my lord.”

“Hn. You know most humans find sweat repulsive?”

“I'm only half human. Also, you smell great. Musky. Can I lick you?”

“Definitely not.” Jon pouted. “Do you want something?”

“Yeah. Can we spar?”

“After lunch. Would you like to dine with me?”

“Can I? Won't the servants see me?”

“I cook for myself.”

Jon gasped. “I get to try your cooking?! Yes!” He pumped his fist in the air.

Damian chuckled good naturedly.

Jon leaned against the island as Damian cooked. “What did your dad say about you failing to kill me?”

“Oh I told him I was going back today and he thought I meant that I was going to gain your trust to kill you.” Damian stiffened. “So I'm going to let him think that so I can spend more time with you.”

“Try this.” Damian said, handing Jon a spoonful of sauce. Jon tasted it.

“Hm, that's pretty good! I've never had this before.”

Damian tasted it himself and nodded. “It is good.”

Jon ate at his usual impatient pace and spent the rest of the meal talking at Damian.

“Alright, Superboy, follow me.”

“Anywhere.”

“Tt.” Damian led him to the training courtyard. “Here we are. Remember to be quiet.”

Jon rushed to tackle Damian but he predicted it and dodged, casting a spell to slow down Jon’s movements. It was a lot stronger than the spell Damian intended to cast, and he moved like a sloth. “Wow prince…” he began as Damian took his time pinning Jon to the ground and immobilizing him with a spell. The first spell wore off quicker than expected. “...Damian you're so fast! Oh, it's already over!” Jon giggled. “You did even better this time! I suppose it's to be expected since it wasn't an ambush. You're really impressive…” Jon sighed dreamily, looking up into Damian’s eyes with a lovestruck gaze.

Damian coughed and looked away. “...You wanted me to beat you. Did you go easy on me?”

“I can honestly say that didn't even occur to me. I don't know why I would do that. Would it have made you happy?”

“Hell no. It would have made me angry.”

Jon smiled. “I'd like to see you angry. Maybe I will next time. Though I don't know if you'd even notice, considering how well you beat me this time.”

Damian looked confused. “Why would you want me to be angry?”

Jon raised a brow. “‘Cause I wanna see how you look when you're angry. I've never seen it before. I wonder if it would make me angry, too. I never get angry anymore.”

“You're… impossible.”

Jon grinned toothily. “Is that a good thing?”

“... I haven't decided.” Damian got off of Jon, much to the younger teen’s disappointment, and did a nullification spell on Jon before helping him up. Jon smirked and flipped Damian over his shoulder as he stood, but Damian landed on his feet and cast a sleeping spell on Jon. He woke him up with a water spell, sitting on his chest.

“You got me again! I love you.”

“You're weird.”

“Is that bad?”

“I haven't decided.”

Jon smiled, crinkling his eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Damian laughed. “Sure. I've not even worked up a sweat yet.”

The next time he came to Nanda Parbat he threw down a corpse in front of Damian, face still splattered in blood.

Damian sighed. “Most guys bring flowers.”

“I'm not ‘most guys’”

“Who was he?”

“He criticized your looks so I killed him for you.”

“Jon, I don't care what anyone says about me.”

Jon's eyes flashed red. “I care that he said that. Now he can't say anything like it ever again. What do you think of my technique?”

“Messy, but efficient.”

Jon smiled “Thank you. Do you want to spar?”

“Jon it's 11:38 at night.”

“... Is that a problem?”

“I was sleeping.”

“Oh. Can I join you?”

“Tt. No. Go home.”

Jon pouted. Damian held firm.

“Okay. I'll miss you.”

“Tt. You say such embarrassing things. Goodnight.”

Jon smiled, then quickly leaned in to kiss Damian’s cheek. “Good night, my love.”

Damian slammed the door in his face.

It became somewhat of a pattern for Jon to ambush Damian when he went out on missions, and Damian learned to expect it. Jon was getting faster at killing Damian’s compliment.

“I killed them, so we can be alone!” Jon said cheerfully, gently touching Damian’s cheeks with his bloody fingers and looking at him adoringly.

“Jon. Keep your hands to yourself before I cut them off.” He said, drawing his rune-encrusted sword slightly out of the scabbard.

Jon pouted but removed his hands. “As you wish, my lord. So, what are you out here for today?”

“I was planning on retrieving a magical relic from a temple to the east of here, until you showed up. You’re like a gnat.”

“I can get it for you!”

“Tt, I’m sure you can’t, there are magical booby traps.”

Jon pouted. “I want to do this for you. Please?”

“Jon, I am certain that if you were deathly injured my mother would not permit me to put your body in the lazarus pit.”

“Not even if I died saving your life?”

“Likely not. I shouldn't even be talking to you, you are the enemy.”

Jon grinned. “I guess we both like to do whatever we want.”

“It is human nature to desire freedom.”

“Well yeah but I'm not human.”

“You are as human as you are kryptonian. I wonder, did your father have the same disregard for your mother as with the rest of humanity?”

“I dunno. I was cloned from her dead body and my dad. I never saw them interact. But I know he loved her, and I know he misses her. He's told me it's the only reason he puts up with me.”

“It does not sound like you are very close.”

“We aren't. But he's the only other kryptonian other than Kara Zor-el so y'know, he's important. Not as important as you, of course, but he was previously the most important person in my life.”

“We're here. Don't follow me.”

Jon floated after him. “But I wanna keep you safe! Let me carry you.”

“No– Jon, put me down!”

Jon grinned and flew Damian in. “What's it look like? I can look through the walls for you.”

“Unneeded, I have a map.”

Jon swiped the map from him and read it. “I have a great sense of direction, don't worry.”

“You are infuriating.”

“We cause strong emotions in each other~ how lovely. Okay, hold tight.”

Jon flew quickly down the halls, before being knocked into the wall by a magical hammer. Damian rolled off of him as Jon groaned in pain. “You idiot. Where are we?”

Jon grunted and pointed to their location on the map.

“I can’t even cast a healing spell on you as I have no idea how it will effect you.”

“Don't worry… I have super healing… so the side that hit the wall will be fine. The wall isn't magic, right?”

Damian checked. “Luckily for you, it is regular stone.”

Jon grinned. “Help me up? I wanna help you finish this.”

“It's a bad idea. We need to get you out of here.”

Jon shook his head. “I'm not going. I'll be right behind you. You can handle the magic traps, and I can fly in front of an arrow for you or something.”

“And what if it's a magical arrow?”

“I'll die for you. Did I not mention that?”

“Tt. You're dangerous to have around. But if you're not leaving…” Damian got out a rope and tied them together by their waists with a length of rope in between them. “Stick close to me.”

Jon floated to his feet. “Mkay. Let's go!”

Damian sighed and pulled along a floating Jon. He disabled the traps as they went until they reached the chamber with the artifact. Damian picked it up and the room shook with a deep voice.

“To get out of trouble, face your double. Return the staff to the rack and it will end the attack.”

Smoke billowed out of the air vents and coalesced into shadow versions of Jon and Damian. Damian sighed and took out his katana.

Jon and Damian fought back to back as their shadow versions worked independently. Damian took out his double and Jon defeated his own. The smoke dissipated and Jon cheered.

“We did it! That was awesome! They didn’t stand a chance against our teamwork! Imagine if you came in here with your whole squad! That would have been so much chaos, I really did you a favor by killing them.”

Damian growled and pressed his sword to Jon’s throat, backing him up against the wall. “No. Killing.”

“Mhn, so it's fine if you kill me but not if I kill your squad, who as we've previously established can come back to life whereas I will not?”

“I will kill you if I have to.”

“I would expect nothing less, my prince.” Jon smiled slightly. “So this is what you look like when you're angry. I love the intensity in your eyes.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Are you really trying to de-escalate the situation by flirting?”

Jon shook his head as much as he could. “Just saying what I think, my lord. And I think you look beautiful.”

Damian sighed and withdrew his blade. “You're an idiot.”

Jon smiled cheerily and let Damian drag him along by the rope still attached to his waist. Damian escorted Jon back to the entrance of the temple and cut the rope. “You need to stop killing my team every time I leave the palace. It makes me look incompetent.”

“Do you get in trouble?”

“Not exactly, no–”

“Then it's fine!”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen to me carefully. I am telling you that I want you to stop killing my team. Did you not say that I deserve to get what I want?”

“You're turning my words against me! I just want to be with you. Your assassins would never allow it. If I don't defeat them, I'll die.” Jon whined.

“Then learn non-lethal techniques of taking people down. Practice on those criminals or whatever.”

“You want me to… not kill a criminal?”

“Yes.”

“I can try… can I still be violent?”

“I would appreciate it if you did not scar my team too badly. But outside of that, you can be as brutal as you like as long as they do not die.”

“Okay. I will practice not killing and come back to you. Farewell, my prince.”

“Farewell, lord Jonathan.” Damian said as Jon lifted off into the sky, the cut rope rippling in the wind with his cape.

Jon stormed through the palace towards Damian, knocking people out of the way like flies. “Prince Damian! I came back, as I said I would.”

“Yes, I can see that. Are you here to kill more of my people? You know I cannot allow that, Lord Jonathan.”

Jon cocked his head. “Why would I do that? I don’t care about humans.”

Damian quirked a brow. “I am human.”

“You’re better than everyone else, though.”

“Is that so?”

Jon giggled. “Yeah, I think you could even kill me if you tried. That’s so hot. Look at you, not attacking me right now… so romantic...” Jon sighed.

Damian tutted. “I’m beginning to regret that.”

Jon giggled. “Some days I think I love you so much I'd just let you. Would you like me to do that? Or would you want a fight?” He came closer.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A genuine one. Oh… If I tried to kill you, I hope you’d try to kill me too… maybe we could die at the same time. If I am going to die, I want it to be by your hand. And no one else deserves to take your life away but me, and only if you asked me to.” He giggled, twirling his hair. “I really like having you around, so you would have to convince me first, or else I wouldn’t even let you kill yourself.” Jon hummed. “But I don’t see you convincing me that this world is so terrible as to deserve to be ridden of such beauty.” He stroked Damian’s cheek with a gloved hand, and Damian smacked it away. Jon sighed. “I love you.”

“You don’t know what love means. Your father never showed you.”

“I don’t? Well then, you’ll have to teach me. No one else will do.”

Damian tutted, before sighing as if greatly put upon and offering his ring for Jon to kiss. He did so gladly, kneeling at his feet.

“My prince.” Jon held Damian’s hand by the wrist and turned it over so he could nuzzle into his palm. Damian allowed it. Jon locked his violet eyes on Damian’s emerald ones. He kissed his fingertips one by one.

“You are so devoted to me. It’s perplexing.”

Jon kissed his wrist. “It’s simple; the whole earth should bow to you. You are perfection. Every moment you spend with me is pure gold; my greatest treasures.Or maybe it is that I can take anything in the world that I want, except for you. You are the only thing I could ever rightfully earn. The only goal worth pursuing. Everything was meaningless and dull until I met you, my Prince.”

Damian cupped his cheek. “And what if you got me? What then? Do you truly believe that to be love?”

“I would work to keep you and to serve you, to make you happy.” He smiled. “To annoy you, to pester you, to laugh with you, to see you cry. To hold you. To learn everything there is to know about you until you’ve changed so much that I have to learn you all over again.” He sniffed Damian’s wrist, at the cologne there, and deeper at all the smells that made up Damian. “Intoxicating.” Jon puffed out a laugh. “I don’t know what love is supposed to be like. Have I got it wrong? Do you think it matters? I ask out of curiosity, ‘cause even if it were really something completely morally unacceptable to you, I wouldn't care. It feels better than anything ever has. It’s what I live for.”

Damian’s lips parted in surprise. He schooled his features to ask his next question. “How many people have you killed since I last saw you?”

“None.” Jon smiled. “I’m learning, see? I can do better. I must be of some use to you, haven’t I?”

Damian got a strange look in his eye just then, and Jon became excited at the prospect of learning that expression. “Get up.”

Jon wilted. “Have I offended you, my Prince?”

Damian shook his head. “Stand up. Don’t. Float.”

Jon bowed his head obediently and stood up. Damian stepped close and put his hand on Jon’s shoulder, pulling him down into a slow and gentle kiss. Jon did not know his heart could race so fast. Damian pulled away with an unreadable look in his eye. “Alright, Jon. I accept. I will teach you how to love.”

Jon beamed. “Oh, this is so much better than murder.” He whispered.

Damian smirked. “It is, isn’t it? A lot of things are.” Damian took his hand off of Jon’s shoulder and put both behind his own back.

“Could you excuse me for just one moment? I feel the urge to go fly.”

Damian nodded, and Jon flew off, laughing brightly like a child.

Jon returned a moment later. “I love you! It feels so triumphant!” Jon gasped. “Does this mean we are dating? Boyfriends?!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes. My mother will not be pleased.”

“I can kill her for you, if you wan’t.”

Damian glared at him. “No. No Killing.”

Jon looked at him for a long time. “Okay… Okay. But if someone tries to kill you, I won’t spare them. Even if you get mad at me. Even if you don’t believe my explanation. Even if you can take care of yourself. I promise, I won’t let you die.”

Damian scowled. “Just…kiss me, you idiot.”

Jon flew to his side in an instant, but was much more apprehensive about actually kissing him, so Damian grabbed his head and dragged their mouths together. Jon purred and pulled him closer. Damian nibbled on Jon’s bottom lip and he gasped. “Damian!”

“Yes?”

“You’ve done this before! And I can’t kill whoever you did it with!”

“You don’t have worry, they are already dead.”

“Woah, do you kill people instead of breaking up with them?”

“Tt, no. They betrayed me. I made an example of them.”

“Wow, I can’t imagine killing you if you betrayed me.”

“Hm. I can’t say it was pleasant, but— we are supposed to be kissing right now, Jonathan.” He pulled him in for a few more smooches.

“Is this part of learning how to love?” Jon asked dazedly.

“No, this is for me. I’m just glad I found a way to shut you up.”

“Dami! That’s–” More kissing. “That’s mean. I love it when you’re mean to me.”

They had their arms wrapped around each other by now. Damian rubbed between Jon’s shoulder blades. “You really shouldn’t.”

“Nobody is ever mean to me but you! How could I not like it? I love when you give me attention.”

“To have everyone afraid of you, your whole life… Let’s change that, hm? You are terrifying in the way that you move, talk, smile, laugh, and behave… But we should be able to change at least two of those.”

“Am I so scary, even to you?”

“No, not to me. You’re even… cute.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

Damian furrowed his brow. “No, why would it be?”

“My father always told me to stop acting so cute, that it was distracting.”

“Everything about you is distracting. You’re currently distracting me from my work. I didn’t think you cared.”

Jon smiled. “You’re right, I don’t. And like I said, you can be mean to me, as long as you don’t ignore me. Well, even if you tried to ignore me, I’d cover your eyes until you had to acknowledge me. Or… maybe I could bite you, like Krypto used to do when I was little and I’d ignore him. Hm… come to think of it, you did just say I was distracting, I’m sure there are lots of ways I could get your attention. I like being distracting.”

Damian arched a brow. “Surely you’ll allow me to get my work done.”

“Well, that’s not ignoring me ‘cause you’re mad! So it’s fine. I can just watch you.”

“Do you watch me when you leave?”

Jon nodded. “And I strain my ears to listen. I love the sound of your voice, my prince.”

“Oh Jonathan, your life cannot only be me. I want you to stay in the palace so I can show you other things you might find meaningful.”

“Like what?”

“Friendship, learning to cook, making art. Things that are worthwhile because of the struggle. I think you will enjoy pottery.”

“What's so interesting about making pots? Plenty of people can do that.”

“They can do it because they put in the work, and they are better than you at it. Don't you want to impress me with an excellent piece of pottery?”

“You would like it if I gave you something I made?”

“Jon, the only person who can make the art that you would make is you. If you do not make it, it will never be known. You can give me something no one else can.”

“Who cares? Everyone will say they love it so I don't singe their eyebrows off…”

Damian arched a brow. “I won't.”

Jon blushed and smiled at Damian. “That's right, you're not afraid to tell me what you think. You're my equal.”

“I may even decide to encourage you with kisses.”

Jon rumbled a purr. “I love you. I'm going to make you the best pot ever.”

Damian kissed him again. “Good. I eagerly await it.”

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