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whxtedreams · 21 days

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Familiar yet Foreign

A Din Djarin x f!reader oneshot

Summary: In the depths of Canto Bight, you find something you thought you lost; his trust.

Written for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was fake dating/marriage.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: fake marriage, untrustworthy reader, mentions of past injury, one bed hehe, protective!din, unwanted male attention, fear of loss, handcuffs, thief!reader.

Main masterlist - series masterlist

Canto Bight, the infamous, glitzy gambling hub, was a paradox.

On one hand, it was no place for a thief like you. With security cameras, guards and wealthy patrons on high alert.

On the other hand, the place was ripe for a skilled crook like yourself. With the promise of hefty winnings on the casino floors and in private games, temptation was everywhere. The dimly lit alleys and extravagant parties provided perfect cover for those with the expertise and daring to take advantage of the high-stakes environment.

In a way, Canto Bight was both forbidden territory and an opportunity waiting to be seized.

The only problem was you had made a promise to the Mandalorian you were traveling with.

The Mandalorian, or rather, Mando, had stood in front of you where he had sat you on a crate on his ship earlier that day. His arms crossed over his chest. The glare you knew he gave you, hidden behind the helmet.

"Listen," he said, "you're going to sit here and you're going to stay out of my way. You're not going to cause any trouble, not going to bring any attention to yourself. You're going to stay right here. Got it?" His voice was cold and unwavering and his stance made it clear that the matter was non-negotiable.

You had waited ten minutes after he left before you left.

There was too much to see and steal after all.

The city was a sprawling, pulsating beast by night. The dimly lit alleyways and shadowy rooftops were your playground as you navigated discreetly through the city. You moved like a ghost, flitting from one venue to another. From the lavish cantinas to the high-rolling casinos. Your fingers were nimble and sure, plucking riches from the hands of the wealthy as easily as if they were picking ripe fruit.

You had missed this, the thrill and adrenaline of a thief's life.

Mando was like a jailer recently, keeping you caged on his ship. He had refused to let you leave for months. The reason was clear - your error. It wasn't just a simple slip-up; it had led to an injury that had stained both Mando’s and your hands with your own blood. It had caused the bounty hunter's protective instincts to kick in. He was determined to keep you under his watchful eye, his actions both a punishment and a precaution. The atmosphere on the ship had turned heavy with tension, the silence broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional sigh or muttered curse from the stoic warrior.

He used to talk to you, used to seek out your company.

It had been months since a conversation lasted more than five seconds.

You felt so lonely.

The air of Canto Bight was like a drug, a potent mix of excitement, opulence, and thrill. It was just what you had been craving. The atmosphere was electric, the glitz and glamor everywhere you looked. The streets were filled with people eager to gamble, party, and seek out adventure. The promise of a good time and the chance to escape your mind was intoxicating and you found yourself drawn in like an Alderaan furry moth to a flame.

You were navigating the cramped, labyrinthine ventilation shafts as you tried to avoid detection of the guards. They had thrown you into the trash filled back alley as you tried to enter the high states casino. It was a risky move, but you had done it many times before.

You were skilled at getting into places you shouldn’t be in after all.

However, this time, your luck ran out the moment you crawled out of the vent and made a turn into a narrow corridor. Unknown to you, the hallway was not empty. You turned the corner and head butted into a solid, metallic surface. As you looked up, blinking in surprise, you realized with a pang of dread that you had head butted Beskar.

Mando.

Shit.

"I can explain," you said. The words tumbled from your mouth in a rush as Mando’s gloved hand grabbed hold of your wrist.

“We can talk about that later. I need you.” He said.

You trailed behind Mando, your footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit corridors. The music from the cantina below was a distant, booming pulse. Its sound muffled by the thick walls but still strong enough to fill the air. The occasional glimpses of flashing lights spilled out through the doors you passed and it painted the floors in a deep purple hue, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark and ominous hallway. You could feel the tension in the air and the Mandalorian's steps ahead of you seemed purposeful.

Mando came to a sudden halt in front of a guard that stood in front of large golden double doors. His hand that had been grasping your wrist just moments before moved to rest on your spine. You felt a slight pressure, a silent command to stay put. You looked up at Mando, confusion and curiosity in your eyes as you tried to puzzle out his actions.

“Mywife,” Mando said.

His what?

Before you could open your mouth to voice your confusion, Mando’s hand gave a sharp tug at your shirt and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement caught you off guard and you stumbled into him, your back now pressed firmly against the cool Beskar. The question that had been forming on your lips died on your tongue as you felt the solid presence of the warrior behind you.

The guard looked you over, his expression skeptical as he took in your bewildered face. He raised an eyebrow and directed his attention back to Mando, his tone unimpressed. "You sure about that?" he said.

“It’s new,” Mando replied.

“Very new,” you said.

Your gaze shifted from the guard's face, which was locked in an intense, one-sided staring contest with the Beskar helmet behind you. To your left, a framed sign on the wall caught your eye. It was a gaudy, overblown declaration advertising a casino room beyond was open to married couples only.

Oh.

“My wife and I would like to play Sabacc. Now.”

The guard sighed.

“Fine, but one wrong move and I will throw you out. Mandalorian or not.” The guard grumbled as he opened the door for you to step through.

Mando steered you through the threshold of the doors and into the crowded, lively room beyond. Round tables were strategically placed throughout the space, each occupied by couples absorbed in either their game or live Fathier Racing holograms. Groups of people roamed the floor as they moved from table to table, eagerly watching the games and races unfold. Along the walls, secluded booths provided intimate spaces for groups of people, their conversations hidden behind the low, padded barriers. The air was thick with tension and excitement. The hum of chatter and the clink of credits filled your ears.

Credits to steal.

“I can feel your fingers twitching.” Mando said.

You stole a glance at Mando. His helmet faced away from you as he scanned the room. His gaze moved from table to table, taking in every detail just as you had but for an entirely different reason. His hand was still pressed firmly against your back, its weight a constant reminder of his presence. It was familiar yet foreign. You could feel the slight tension in his touch, the subtle way his fingers pressed through the fabric of your shirt. A silent signal for you to stay close.

You clenched your fists tightly, the action a meager attempt to control the tension that coursed through your body. Your fingers dug into your palms as Mando turned his helmet to look down at you. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, even through the visor of his helmet. You took a deep, steadying breath, maintaining the neutral expression on your face despite the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

"Are you going to behave?" The low hum of his voice behind the modulator sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke. You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice as you nodded stiffly in response.

“Always.”

He scoffed; the sound muffled through the modulator in his helmet. His hand tightened in your shirt as he gripped the fabric firmly.

“I don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Despite the gruff and frustrated tone in his voice, there was a hint of gentleness in the way this hand smoothed the fabric of your shirt, his touch surprisingly careful. With his guidance, he led you to an empty booth at the back of the room. The dim lighting provided a secluded area away from the main gambling tables. You could sense the tension in his stance, the controlled strength and power coiled beneath his armor. As he motioned for you to sit, his presence loomed over you like a shadow.

As you settled yourself on the cold metal bench of the booth, Mando’s voice cut through the hum of the casino. "If I tell you to stay, will you?" His visor was trained on you, the purple dim lights above the booth casted shadows across his already intimidating visage.

You nodded.

He shifted his weight and rested his hands on his hips. He then cocked his head to the side, his gaze locked onto you. He exhaled, the sound a deep, mechanical huff, as if he were gathering his thoughts or summoning some inner strength.

With a swift, practiced movement, Mando unclipped a pair of cuffs and secured one around your wrist. You felt the cold metal pinch against your skin, the sound of the click as the cuff locked into place. Without a second thought, he attached the other cuff to the heavy table leg, effectively tethering you to the booth.

“You understand why I don’t trust you?”

You nodded again.

Because you do. You really do.

Once you were secured to the booth, Mando leaned in close. The cold, hard surface of his helmet mere inches from your face. In a low, firm voice, he informed you that he would return once he had acquired the information he needed or captured the bounty he was hunting. The weight of his words and the situation's gravity settled over you like a leaden blanket as he took a step back, his figure disappearing into the crowd of gamblers.

So, there you sat, bound to the booth. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You could have easily slipped free the cuffs and you knew Mando was aware of this fact as well. This waiting game was a test, a trial to see if you could be trusted again. If you had the discipline and restraint to stay put despite the temptation to flee.

You waited for him.

Around the two hour mark a burly Weequay pushed his way into the booth beside you. The weight of his body caused the metal bench to creak and groan under his weight. He settled into the space with a smirk, his eyes scanned you up and down with a leery gaze.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said.

"You here all alone?” The Weequay leaned back, his arm slid over the back of the booth and came to rest behind you with a casual familiarity that immediately set your nerves on edge. He chuckled softly as his eyes lingered on your bound wrist. “And handcuffed?” His other hand reached for your bound wrist.

Just as you were about to snap a retort at the Weequay, a deep shadow fell over the booth. Your eyes instinctively lifted to find the source. In front of you stood the imposing figure of the Mandalorian, every inch of his body radiated tension and anger. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides, his stance wide and aggressive, as if he was barely holding himself back.

The Weequay's face twisted into a frown as he turned around, his gaze locked onto the imposing figure behind him. The cocky expression fell from his face and he visibly tensed, his body jolted in surprise at the sight of the armored warrior. He swallowed hard; his confidence vanished like smoke in the wind.

"If you want to leave with your hand attached," he stated, each word punctuated clearly, "I suggest you take your hand off my wife." Mando's voice was as cold and hard as the Beskar he wore, the threat in his words clear and unequivocal.

The Weequay's eyes widened in surprise at the term "my wife," and his head whipped over to look at you. He stuttered over his words, his eyes darted between you and the Mandalorian. He hastily slid out of the booth; his apologies spilled out of his mouth in a rush as he took in the sight of the furious Mandalorian towered over him. In a heartbeat, he turned on his heel and scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

The moment he left; you could see the tension in Mando’s shoulders relax. In his hand was a drink, the condensation on the outside of the glass glinted in the casino lights. With a nod, he placed the drink on the table beside you. The liquid within beckoned to you, the cool, cold condensation a tantalizing promise of relief. You practically lunged for the drink, your parched throat relishing the cool liquid as you downed it all in one gulp.

“Your wife, huh?” You smiled as you put the empty cup on the table.

After watching you practically inhale the drink as if dying of thirst, Mando bent down as he ignored you. With a swift motion, he unlocked the cuff around your wrist and freed you from the booth. He then stood straight again; his gaze fixed on you.

“Got the information I needed. We can head back to the Crest.” He said as you rose from the booth.

Mando’s reaction was instant as you reached out and grabbed his wrist, his body jolted at the unexpected touch. He turned back to face you.

“What?”

You looked up at him, your hand still wrapped around his wrist and suggested, "What if we get a room? With an actual bed, maybe?"

He stared at you.

“I may have stolen enough credits, so I can pay for it myself?”

His visor betrayed no reaction, but his body seemed to tense beneath your hold. Then, he nodded.

Mando seemed to consider your suggestion for a moment before he spoke, his voice gruff beneath the modulator. "Fine," he said, the word coming out as a reluctant agreement. He then adjusted his grip, his fingers wrapping around your wrist instead. "But only because you didn't run off," he added as he pointed his finger at you, a note of subtle approval in his tone.

As he pivoted on his heel and began to lead you through the casino, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. There was a sense of triumph in the way he tugged you along, your hand encircled by his sturdy grip. The sound of the casino faded into the background as you followed him through the corridors and to the lobby.

The moment Mando reached the counter, he reached out and rang the bell. After a moment, the guard from earlier emerged from the back room, his expression a mix of tiredness and irritation. The guard let out a long sigh, leaning heavily on the counter as he recognized the armored figure before him.

"Two rooms," Mando said. With a flick of his hand, he tossed a small stack of credits you stole onto the counter and it clattered against the hard surface.

The guard darted from the credits to Mando’s helmet and raised his eyebrows. “Two rooms?” He asked.

Mando remained still as he stared at the guard.

"Now, why would a husband and wife need two rooms?" he sneered, a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. The guard crossed his arms across his chest, as if challenging the Mandalorian's response. The tension in the air thickened as he stared at the guard, his grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly.

“One. Room.” Mando said and you felt the anger radiate off him.

The guard raised an eyebrow at Mando's tone, seemingly surprised by the man's demeanor, but he quickly snatched the credits from the counter and handed Mando one room key.

With a swift, almost violent motion, Mando snatched the key and remaining credits from the counter. The guard's fingers barely moved out of the way in time.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind you with a soft click and a sense of isolation enveloped you that you noticed Mando's shoulders relax again. His rigid stance loosened as if shedding the tension that had been weighing heavily upon him. The dim lighting of the room cast dramatic shadows across his armor, but for a moment, in the quiet of the room, he looked less like an intimidating warrior and more like a man struggling to hold onto his composure.

He walked past you, his movements purposeful and measured and made his way to the chair in the corner of the room. He spoke as he sat down, the sound of the chair creaked slightly under his weight as he folded his arms. "I'll take the chair," he stated, his voice flat and matter of fact. He leaned back in the chair, the metal of his armor clinked against the wood.

You sat down on the edge of the bed closest to him, the springs of the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight. You looked over at Mando seated in the chair he had claimed as his own. "I'm sorry," you said.

His helmet flicked up to glance at you, but other than that he didn't move.

You sighed.

“I’m sorry you can’t trust me like I want you to.”

“I did trust you.”

You looked up at him and nodded slowly.

“I trusted you to trust me and you-” he stopped himself with a deep sigh and shook his head, “Do you know I still find your blood in the Crest?”

Your eyes closed involuntarily as shameful memories flooded your mind. Flashes of his shaking hands on your bloody body in the dimly lit corner of the Crest. The memories played out in quick, vivid snapshots, like photos being shuffled in a deck of cards. The sound of his angry, raised voice echoed in your head. Its volume and intensity were a stark contrast to his usual collected and calm demeanor. His hands tearing at your clothes to get to your injuries. His hands holding you down as you cried. Your cold body drenched in your own blood. His cries as he held you. You could almost feel the fear that oozed from him, a fear you had never seen in him before, and it terrified you more than your injury had.

“I can’t see you like that again,” he said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, the memories still lingered like ghosts in the back of your mind. Without uttering a word, you nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned away from him, your focus shifted to the bed that seemed too large and too empty for just you. The words "Sleep with me?" left your lips before you could second-guess yourself, your voice almost a whisper in the quiet room.

“What?”

“I miss you Mando. I won’t touch you, I just - miss you.”

Without a word, he stood from the chair.

Mando did not take his armor off like he used to. He did not slip under the covers, instead laid on top of the sheets. He did not hold you close to his chest like he had for countless months.

The distance was palpable; not just the space between your bodies, but also the distance between the connection you once shared.

Instead, you found yourself clutching the soft fabric of his cloak in your hands as you laid beside him. The scent of him that had once seemed soothing and comforting was muted by the metallic smell of his armor. Fatigue tugged at your eyelids, your mind teetering on the edge of sleep as you held onto his cloak. The bed seemed too large, too desolate without his embrace.

He was so close yet so far.

Familiar yet foreign.

As you were on the verge of that sweet surrender of sleep, his arm moved around your waist and pulled you gently closer to him. His touch was unexpected, his movements cautious yet deliberate. Your body slotted against his armored form, the cold touch of his armor against your skin a sharp contrast to the unexpected warmth that spread through you at the contact.

“Can I trust you? Will you trust me to keep you safe? Because I can’t see you like that again and I need to know if I can trust you to listen to me when it matters most,” he said. You could hear the strain in his usually calm and collected voice. The underlying hint of fear in his tone.

You nodded into his side, the strength of his grip on your waist a comfort. You had no intention of leaving his side again, the memories of his angry voice and shaky hands was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay close to him, for him to trust you in the way he once had.

He nodded as he sat up in the bed, his movements methodical and practiced. You silently watched as he began to remove his armor, each piece came off with a series of clicks and scrapes as he unclasped and untethered the Beskar from his body.

He left his armor stacked neatly on the chair; each piece placed with a level of care. Then, he returned to the bed, the mattress dipped slightly as he slid under the sheets. His body warm against yours.

You could have cried.

You did cry.

The warmth of his bare hand against your stomach as he pulled your back against his chest emanated more than just physical comfort. The solidity of his body against yours was a reminder that he was there with you. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers splayed over your stomach in a way that suggested he was afraid of letting go. You sank back into his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against your back a soothing lullaby you had not been able to sleep without.

You weren't alone anymore.

Notes

Did I stay on track of fake marriage? Maybe? – listen I tried. I sat down to try and write this three times and scrapped it three times before I finally stuck with this. But regardless, I had a lot of fun doing this! I haven’t necessarily written in the Star Wars universe before, only AU’s with Din so this was very intimidating. I did, however, like writing it. It was just scary because I didn’t want to describe something incorrectly or not write it correctly?

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x you #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian

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diorcities · 6 months

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ace of spades (zcl)

☆͟ 🎱:pairing: chenle x afab!reader ☆ genre: smut, mature content. ☆͟ ♠️ content: pwp, gambling, rivals / frenemies, meandom!chenle, softdom!chenle, oral fixation, skin fixation, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (chenle pulls out), cum eating, spanking, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, make up sex, biting. some other cautions: small mention of a crime, alcohol consumption, chenle calls himself daddy once, they're both competitive, intense and extend kiss scene (i love writing this), reader makes one incestual joke, featuring jisung, ningning being chenle's sister, haechan, the hwang siblings, ex former nmixx jini, an yujin and hu yunjin. ☆ wc: 6.4k.

☆͟ 🃏description: in the world of asia's rich and powerful, nothing is as it seems. behind the smiles and luxuries, secrets, lies, and betrayals are hidden. a group of pretentious young adults, children of wealthy parents from the asian elite, move between parties, business, and scandals.

son of the west's most famous tech tycoon, chenle is arrogant, capricious, and manipulative; his unquenchable thirst for glory and greatness moves him to do the most despicable things if it keeps him getting what he wants: you.

based on little white lies by one direction. to my friend, @ohmytyong ♡

ningning shares a glance at jini.

“stop that,” she says with annoyance. the girl ends up stopping the clattering of her foot on the pavement and disposing of the cigarette; ningning has lost count of how many she has on.

“what if someone saw us?”

“what if?” ningning responds, distracted. “are you worried, little lamb?” ningning was growing tired of the whining of the girl. pure empty concerns, in her opinion. “i thought you wanted this. i thought... you'd kill for it. what if someone saw us? no, better, what if one of us speaks? would it be her brother? would it be... you?”

“hi, girls.” yeji arrives offering them both a cup of loaded coffee. “god, you look like you're losing your shit,” she says to jini.

“i don't like coffee,” she points out.

“i know,” yeji simply responds.

jini lets out a disbelieving sigh. “fuck! am i the only one who's worried of what we've done?” she utters seeking comfort, as if she didn't already know that she won't find it there.

the girls share a countenance that makes jini more uneasy. she opens her mouth to surely continue complaining when she leaves ningning expectant and dazed when nothing comes out.

“what you've done,” you correct, announcing your arrival. “lighter, please.”

ningning shares fire with you while jini watches you in a bewildered look when you share complicit glances with each other but her. “first murder?” you joke, looking at the girl's colorless face.

the three of you watch pleasurably her head putting the puzzle together and the realization settling in her stomach. “you.”

you smile wide and sharp.

you've always found the strange relationship intriguing. questioning every smile and every look; they all play a game that was best not to get into unless you know how to play equally well.

the queen of the deck game.

ningning, with her wit that sparkles like a sharp diamond always seems to be two steps ahead, leaving you to wonder if her words hide sharper edges. yeji, with eyes that have seen more than they tell, hides her true interests under enigmas, and you wonder if her shadowy wisdom is a guide or a labyrinth. jini, with her appetite for success and fortune echoing like a flame, is attracted so much by the heat that she can't stop until it burns.

sometimes you don't know how far the limit is. sometimes you'd like to know it for yourself. one misstep, one wrong play, the stakes are high, and faces are masks.

although, you've always known how to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

the academy bell rings and you take the coffee from jini's cold hands. you smile condescendingly as the girl seems to have seen a ghost. “next time, do like me and go for the head.”

── 11:30hr 🃏 ago ──

the outlook was promising. the wealthiest people in asia all gathered in one place. the ensembles, clubs, and parties were in abundance as they made deals to become more millionaires with jazz music playing in the background.

the world revolves around the rich. sports cars, expensive champagne, private schools, commodities. the privileged part envied by the masses. gambling, scandals, fraud, felonies, cults, crimes, scams, obsessions was the side that was kept secret. with ambition comes power, and with power comes temptation. something that young blood can't control after tasting a pinch of it.

chenle had had enough of that.

other, less mundane things excited him now. like seeing your delicate skin bristle when you noticed his presence very close to you, your body tense up, your breath freeze in your throat because god forbid it to be so close; chenle had taken all his willpower to contain the urge to bite your naked shoulder.

the eyes of your companions register it under your ignorance. haechan smiles smugly as jisung says, “look who's here. done sucking your father's balls?”

chenle arrives at the circle with a nonchalant air. “ask your mother.” haechan bursts out laughing.

ningning approaches in an ethereal halo with a glass of champagne between her claws of the same shade as her lips. she's machiavellian beautiful, with sharp features, her beauty is certainly a weapon. chenle's aware of the influence ningning has on people, and couldn't be more disgusted by it. “gentlemen, having a reunion without me?”

“god forbid. i have not yet psyched myself up to put up with you so early.” jisung replies, stealing a glass of champagne from a passing tray.

the illusion is stronger when you are together. chenle has grown up with you, he has known you all his life. something so secret and twisted can only exist with people with the same tendencies. and while friendships are bound by affection, you are bound by secrets.

a circle. an alliance. the selected and exclusory society of the young wealthiest children. forged with vice and deception, glory and greed. to be the best. to be the ace.

“so, how's business? making deals to sell personal information to the highest bidder?” haechan wonders, playing with a loose strap of ningning's dress while giving chenle a sly smile although his gaze is not even interested in returning the look at him, somehow spellbound by the nice view in front of him.

he shrugs behind you, “marvelous, how's yours?”

“my dad's closing a deal with one of the big ones. he's been talking to me about it, i couldn't be more bored by the criminal laws,” he concedes, vaguely.

“oh, pardon me. i meant the drug business,” chenle points out causing a flurry of reactions. jisung chokes on the champagne in front of you. his cheeks are flushed and he is flustered from the alcohol.

giggly and careless, your brother's naïveté makes him the weakest link of all. jisung is simply too good and disinterested in anything that doesn't involve going against you. sometimes you wonder if he is so afraid of disappointment that he doesn't even try.

he's never been good at drinking either.

“don't you think you're overdoing it?” chenle casually asks, looking around.

“stay out of my business, would you?” he says fed up before going in his direction and giving him a playful headlock. the pleasant laughter of the pair makes the rest of the group join in just before the music changes and becomes livelier.

ningning lets out a scream and hurries up the champagne, taking haechan to the track without any objection.

“ji, dance with me,” you request under the nagging gaze of the only boy who's unmoved by your charms.

“don't be capricious, sister. you know i don't dance.”

“allow me.”

before you can answer, chenle grabs you and drags you toward the center of the room. the closeness of your bodies only makes it harder for you to manage to stay neutral, not when his fingers seem to be caressing your waist. “how aristocratic, since when do you like to dance?” chenle shrugs his shoulders as he leads you.

“i'm tentative. i am quickly influenced by beautiful things. and because this proximity can be excused if we dance, otherwise, how am i going to be able to tell you without raising suspicions that i know a little secret?”

chenle is entertained by the reaction he gets from you, feeling your heart pounding against his chest. look at you, a whole personification of purity, too bad it can't stand alone. “what about a gentleman never tells?” a sly smile forms on his pursed lips as he hears you.

chenle pulls you to him, your jaw now resting on his shoulder as he embraces you and spins you in his arms. “i am no gentleman.”

“no,” you say, “you're vain, vicious, and perverse.” chenle takes your chin in a playful and twistedly affectionate manner, observing your body slowly spinning until you press your back against his chest. you sway to the melody when you hear chenle clearing his throat. his breath hits your cheek when he laughs then, his hands press you more against him.

you muffle an exhale as you feel him pressing against your back, his hands molding to your waist, the dominant grip he holds you under. “and yet, you find yourself fascinated.” chenle makes you face him, and you shake your head with peppiness. “explain this... lingering feeling every time we touch. i know you feel it too.”

“what thing?”

“this tension.”

“i'm afraid i have no idea what you're talking about.”

“oh, no? may i ask why are you get suddenly agitated when i touch you here.” he moves his hand dangerously toward your naked lower back. “d'you run out of air often, princess, or it's just me?” his warm breath brushes against your ear as he keeps you close.

chenle's intoxicating aroma clutters your thoughts, and you have to make an extra effort not to trip over his feet. “these are your tactics for flirting with girls? i'm very unimpressed.” chenle watches you roll your eyes, curling his lips.

“not remotely close, although i'm pleased that you are interested in knowing my seduction methods. but since you're talking about tactics, i'm deeply curious about whether this is how you act with haechan too or it's just for my eyes only.”

the piece is finished and another one begins right after. however, your bodies remain frozen in the same place, gazes glaring at each other, trying to see weakness, trying not to be the first to bend.

“and that act you talk about is...?”

“playing dumb, which i confess, never looked good on you.” you were always amazed at how chenle's brain worked. calculating wit, this personification of scheming and wickedness made chenle a dangerous adversary.

“i thought you liked them compliant and subtle.”

he hums in denial, “i like them dainty and haunted, like a drowned lily.”

you giggle with a grimace, throwing the boy off. “is that one of your puzzles? sorry, i don't like games.” chenle nods, his tongue playfully pushing the inside of his cheek as he grins in amusement.

you wouldn't be so careful not to play his game. he is a prodigy at plotting, there was nothing that escaped him. the deceptive epitome of why no one beat him at strategy. nothing that would imply competition. billiards, fencing, chess.

if you could describe this interaction, if you could describe even the purpose of the allyship with such devious people it would be a simple card game, and if so, that would make chenle the ace of spades.

chenle escorts you off the dance floor. “no, you just like the chase.”

“what makes you think that?”

he shrugs, with nonchalant air, “i happen to know how much you love the euphoria of being caught doing something you're not supposed to. maybe that's why you hang out with friends who wouldn't hesitate to push you off a cliff, or be part of a circle with such vain people, or how much you want me to fuck you on this dress.”

you burst out laughing, “you're the smartest person in the room.”

chenle delights to see you look around in case anyone has heard him; he also hasn't gone unnoticed the way your breath got stuck in your throat for his words, and you hate yourself for it. he comes so close to you that you smell his manly fragrance. “no. i'm the most ambitious.” his warm lips rest on your skin for less than a second, yet the feeling it leaves in your stomach lasts longer than that.

you let the bewilderment win, and you hate him for that. you hate how he can get into people's heads, how he can mess with yours. by laying his intentions so bare, it can't be that simple. what does he intend to do?

“see you at midnight.”

your eyes follow his devilish figure as he leaves the room, and your hand itches at the place where he kissed you. someone comes next to you and you suddenly feel a sense of rage.

“good evening, would you like to da...?”

a hand reaches out towards you but you cut it off when you pronounce “no.” harshly, reenacting the path taken by the young man with fervent eyes.

── 🃏 midnight ──

the music becomes so subdued, carried by the cool night wind, that it seems like a distant, forgotten dream that slips through a forgotten room full of previous gala guests revealing their true selves after a pretend night when you set foot inside.

there is a pool table in the center where two beautiful bodies touch each other impudently. the air feels heavy and ningning steals a bottle from her father's collection, returning to the hungry embrace of her lover that night.

haechan pulls away from her neck just enough to give you a sly smile.

“well, hi, there,” greets ningning. “done using my brother?” your fingers snatch the bottle of champagne from her, taking a long sip. “oh, i was starting to be afraid that sharing wasn't your thing.” your eyes sweep her under the amused gaze of the tanned boy with lipstick smudged all over his face.

“and i was starting to think incest was your thing.” a pleasing rush washes you by ningning's stunned look, it feels gratifying. “luckily, this is a safe zone.”

she scoffs.

“safe zone, huh?”

“yes,” you assure, “we've grown up together, we're close. it almost feels like family.”

haechan's laughter echoes just when you scan the room.

“cheers to that.” jini laughs, approaching as she drinks from her glass. “let's make a toast for stealing achievements, and stealing boyfriends,” she says to ningning under your bewildered gaze. both girls clink their glasses and their venomous gazes fix on you.

“i don't steal achievements, i own them. but, yes, let's have a toast.” you clear your throat and your fingers steal the glass from jini's hands without her showing any resistance. “to the circle, to camaraderie, to the ace, to boy toys, and last but not least, a toast to the copycats.”

it will always amazed you how you could show your darker side to a bunch of petulant and vain young people and distrust them so much. these people, these twisted people were your friends by default.

besides the pool table, there is a small bar where jisung pours himself a glass of many in the company of the hwang siblings, yeji and hyunjin, sons of the hwang dynasty. their parents were renowned businessmen in the country and that night future partners of your parents, with riches made by extraction and export of precious minerals. haechan was the only child of attorneys who worked in the tax and criminal fields, with the best criminal law firm and soon closing an important alliance at that night's gala. and finally, the zhong. specialized in computer engineering and big data, they've created an empire that ningning and chenle were responsible for squandering.

then there were the... twins? cousins? known, perhaps? you couldn't tell since they both behaved the same way —yujin and yunjin. one was the daughter of fencing's most prestigious director and the other had nouveau riche parents, who were at the time, having a bliss as chenle buried his head (and teeth) in their necks at times.

his shirt is a mess and you soon find out why when yujin runs her hands over his toned, pale chest. then yunjin laughs at something chenle says to her before they both look in your direction and you feel your cheeks burn, choleric.

how dare he? turn you into a joke that he can tell in the ears of his lovers?

“new attendees?” you ask.

“applicants,” chenle corrects.

“in that case, shall we vote?” you suggest, feigning to get the attention of the others. yujin lets out a skeptical huff that chenle tries to ease, but it has already triggered your bigotry. “get. out.”

yujin looks at you dumbfounded as chenle's embrace unravels from their shoulders. helpless, yunjin asks with an anxious laugh, “who do you think you are? chenle?” she seeks for comfort that the boy shakes off when he shrugs his shoulders.

yunjin laughs in awe before leaving in sheer frustration and giving you a dirty look, that you politely respond to with a quick smirk, deciding to back out once you've done your job of ruining his night just as he ruined yours.

you hear chenle's shrill giggle behind you as he decides to follow you closely to the now-unoccupied pool table. “jealous, by any chance?”

“remotely. sick, perhaps.”

“is that what causes you not to have my attention?”

you scoff, “quite the opposite. a friendly game?” chenle takes his eyes off the lower part of your body when you turn around to face him. his darkened eyes go from yours to the cue stick you're holding. a smile dances on his pouting pink lips.

“i like a little bit of challenge.”

“a competition, then,” you solve, going for the rack when chenle intercepts you by taking you by the wrist to go for it instead. the balls are arranged just as ningning's high-pitched laughter breaks out in a soft melody drifting from the floor below.

“stop being so loud, woman.”

jisung turns his head from your direction to look with amusement at the pair. “shall we move the party to the lake?” yeji suggests; they steal a couple more bottles, and a couple of cigars making their way to the exit amidst stumbling and fraternal hugs. jini stays behind, pulling away from jisung and hyunjin's arms to ask, “you coming?”

chenle is not interested in looking at her when he replies “in a moment.” his eyes fixing on yours. a slit of light enters through the half-open door of the illuminated corridor, and chenle's eyes absorb every glimpse of it. “do the honors.”

the crackling of a fireplace warms the place and flutters your chest, or is the gentle brush on chenle on your waist when you head toward the cue ball. chenle watches you from the other end, and that's why your body leans more than necessary and the breeze hits your cleavage.

“has the match already started?” he wonders, darting his gaze from you. his wild eyes following the path of the balls shooting in all directions; you see his mind scheming behind his focused gaze as his feet move in the direction of his target.

chenle disappears from your view and your body betrays you when you smell his lingering fragrance closer. feeling his presence behind you, the proximity once again tortures you. your body is caught in the middle as he prepares to shoot the cue ball with you in his arms.

the warmth emanating from his body impact your naked back as he pins you between him and the table, makes possible for you to feel the growing bulge pushing against your lower back; the unexpected friction catches you off guard. your pelvis twitches in an involuntary motion and chenle misses the cue ball.

he muffles a sound at the time you bite your lips, struggling to suppress the thrill of electricity that runs through you when your mind becomes dense and thick. your body charge with elation and you blush when he hums, the mere gesture sending shivers down your spine. chenle tenses against your body as your back gives in and arch into him, hips moving slightly upward feeling his erection a little more pressing up your butt; the thin fabric of your dress causing the sensation to feel even rawer.

your mind doesn't think it through as you lean across the table taking the cue stick from his hands. fingers instinctively going to your waist as you bend over. dizzily sensing the hardness of his boner, your chest heaves as an avid thrill takes force in your gut.

chenle welcomes you again when you get up and the number 1 ball has entered the pocket. you feel his haunting presence as he removes the cascade of hair from your shoulder and moves closer to your ear, “and it's only just beginning to be midnight.”

you hum, “i'm done with the fun here, i'd like to go to the lake now.” a gasp of surprise freezes in your throat as his hand squeezes on your waist and easily turns you around. you witness the words that freeze in his throat as his gaze drifts below your clavicles, and you are aware at that moment of the soft hardness of your nipples, poking through the silky fabric.

a velvety feeling creeps down your thighs as a smirk blooms on his lips. “not the smartest decision, but sure shit, princess. anything else you crave for?”

“not really.”

a gasping sound comes out of your mouth when chenle squeezes you close to him without forewarning. something wild flutters in your chest under the young man's sharp gaze. your lips part to let out shallow exhalations when his mouth dangerously lurks on yours, tingling with anticipation. eyes closing against your will and body giving in to his command. you become lighter as he holds you like he pleases. “you sure?”

the answer trembles on your lips, but you are unable to say it.

chenle enjoys having you this way. seeing you so affected, your body reacting the way he wants it to. “say the magic words, princess.” you swallow hard when he lurks on your exposed neck, surprising you when your head pulls back to give him more access.

you wait. you anticipate his lips finally resting on your skin, blood burning in your veins, eager to feel him, but you are stunned when he pulls away just enough to look at you again.

your eyesight has become narrow, covered with black fog, your gaze feel heavy if you try to focus on him. you look at him with narrowed eyes. breath becoming a wild beast that writhes and lashes out at your ribcage. mind blurring his sculpted figure with sharp strokes, smooth and tender skin that reveals the first three buttons of his wrinkled shirt.

fuck it.

his fingers dig painfully gently into the untouchable skin of your waist as you slam into his body and your lips attack his. teeth and tongues meeting in disorder, wild gasps as your mouths devour each other to the point of dissolving the other.

his mouth feels hot. his taste addictive. your tongue savor his while your fingers mess up his hair. pull. caress; your emotions scatter and get tangled. your body hums and you find yourself out of breath as you feel him pushing you backwards until you hit the edge of the pool table.

chenle pants against your lips and your instinct is to reach out and bite them with desire under layers and layers of resentment.

“shit.” he mutters, hissing. heart pounding his chest while your hands won't stop touching him. he can do nothing but gasp desperately. he wants everything. being bitten, caressed, kissed.

he wants you. he craves you. always has. his body burns from the rawness and cruelty in which he desires you. your body stuck to his, your predatory eyes on him... his head pulls back, briefly having a lucid moment, and he pants “one last chance.”

his fingers glide down your soft thigh and your eyes close, sensitive. receptive. you feel him position himself between your legs, your thigh slightly brushing against his hips. you see him grit his teeth. one of his hands wraps around your neck gently, his thumb brushes your jaw before bringing his face closer, and you ask “for...?”

“stop pretending.”

you scoff. you delight in watching him frown in annoyance before he falls into a trance as you wrap your wet lips around his thumb. you're able to see in his eyes the urge he tries to repress. how he tries to keep pace with his breathing. how he tries not to get excited about the way your mouth sucks his finger before he chuckles under his breath.

all your boldness shakes as he locks you between his body, hands gripping your waist and assisting you to sit on the board. your arm instinctively wraps around his neck. faces very close. dangerously close. yet chenle doesn't give you a break, and you sense his next move when he tilts his head and kisses you again. unscrupulously. like a hungry man. split lips for his tongue to tease you and taste you a thousand times, breaths suffocating in the other's mouth. tongue swirling over yours before his lips hover over your mouth. chenle sucks playfully, drawing you towards him. sticking to his body. his hands rest on your lower back as he lets you take the reins of the destructive kiss in which your mouths merge.

heads turning the other way when the other does, deeper, safer, bolder kisses. an eternity or maybe a second has passed, in which your mouths meet infinitely, lips fitting into each other, moving to the same beat as the other, imprinting thousands of repressed emotions that you taste them on each other's tongue.

your body reacts to his midas touch. fingers running down your back, arching against him. belly holding everything in a ball that begins to grow and expand, feeling heavier, and harder to keep at bay. it twists you inside and melts towards your intimacy, making you want more.

he breaks the kiss and you watch his arrogant expression falter as he pulls himself together, “well?”

your breathing is ragged and your thoughts are scattered all over the room. your head pulls back, cornered, “fine! i need this, badly.”

“that's my girl,” he rushes to say, succumbing in front of you as his mouth attacks your neck.

his tongue slides down the hot vein that throbs under your sweet skin and it's taking all your will not to whine loudly. a grunt leaves his lips and hits your skin when your nails burrow into his flexed arm, moaning breathlessly. “look at that, she can moan.” your mind collapses from the silky sensation that begins to fill you and makes your fingers go towards his hips, searching for the buttons of his pants.

chenle pulls away from you and helps you take off your pants. your hands finding the bulging from the erection underneath. mouth begins to salivate as the edges of your vision blur, teeth catching your lower lip when a gasp comes out of you. tummy burning with aching desire to see it, hurriedly grabbing your hands on the waistband of his underwear and pulling it down to reveal his manhood.

emotions are too strong to think clearly. turns you into a disaster of clashing mouths and groping. your body buzzes with the intoxicate feeling chenle causes you as he grazes your body and attacks your mouth with fiery kisses. you let the primitive pleasure that lashes your being make you submissive to him when he pulls you down from the table by your thighs and forces you to turn around. his fingers tangle with the bottom of your dress as he pulls it up and exposes your body. “fuck. you know how much i love lacy things.” any hint of a response is undone when you feel his fingers touch your core due to the lack of fabric covering your intimacy.

your breaths freeze for related reasons.

his digits massage the area with delicacy and you feel like you are about to lose your mind. “so deliciously wet.” your body breaks at his diabolical touch. fingers up your folds to the swollen and needy area.

your throat builds a cry. your eyes shut tightly. chenle's fingers slide down at your entrance until they detach from you. the scream comes out of your mouth when he spanks you. “easy, pretty. you'll want to keep it quiet.” his digits attack your clit once again and you dig your teeth into the forearm that holds you against him while his fingers abuse you. eyes roll as he sticks his middle and ring finger into you and starts pumping rhythmically, the coldness of his rings nibbling on the sensitive skin of your entrance. “so soft. so good taking it, darling.” a shudder hits you from the smooth and solid of the material pressing deliciously against you while his digits fuck you.

sounds burst out of you against your will at the pace of his swirls. your walls take chenle's fingers until the squelch sound joins your moans. he pulls his fingers out of you and spanks you again before pulling your panties down.

he makes you take them off completely before he comes back with you and you can feel him press the tip of his penis into your folds, sliding up and down, covering his erection with your luscious excitation to push it inside you with ease. the full feeling leaves you breathless and you find yourself letting out a breathy giggle from the pleasurable sensation that blooms in your lower belly when he stuffs you with his cock.

chenle rocks in and out of you, getting you used to his length, and your legs tremble as he does so, feeling the shot of arousing sensation every time he thrusts you. your heart flutters as the speed changes and you find yourself gasping for breath. pelvis begins to hammer yours mercilessly. your crotch fills with dripping, numbing pleasure as your body twitches and contorts, having moved nothing. chenle dominates you. he holds you in place to receive each merciless, demonically good thrust. moving one hand to your mouth when you threaten to scream from how well he's fucking you. legs trembling as your pussy takes him again and again, you welcome him into your slippery, swollen walls, feeling sensitive. his cock penetrates you with sharp, swift thrusts and you find yourself in space, taking him deliciously. belly filling with searing fire that threatens to spill into your bloodstream.

“god, you feel so well, you feel s—so nice, angel.” chenle fails to contain his own moans, and his teeth bury into the smooth skin of your shoulder, muffling the moans in your skin as he buries his cock and your pussy begins to tingle. “a-ahgh, fuck!” your lips are caught in your canines at the growing knot in your belly as chenle hammers you ruthlessly.

your eyes squeeze closed and a white noise takes over your mind as you try to find your train of thought, but all your common sense vanishes from your hands before the delicious pumping of his cock abusing your needy pussy; heat spreading from your belly and spilling down your thighs.

it takes almost all of your strength not to succumb right there. to not let the wonderful sensation of his cock driving you to ecstasy.

“o-oh god, chenle,” you cry. your body collapses on the pool table and causes chenle to thrust you from another angle. eyes rolling to the back of your head and moaning building up and spilling from your lips from how good it feels. chenle hisses “s-shit, don't stop moaning. f-fuck, yn. you feel so fucking amazing. sound so exquisite.” his thrusts become sharper, your body jolts and the feeling leaves you dizzy and groggy, mind blank as the pleasurable sensation takes over your body.

chenle grabs you tightly by the waist as his pelvis hammers yours roughly, the sound of your skins clashing filling the room along with your moans and the squelching noise of your cunt taking him with each stroke.

the snap of your skin when his palm hits your butt pulls you over the edge. your hands turn to fists as you try to hold it inside, but the fire crackles inside you, and a pleasurable pain forms in your core. the tingling sensation spreads through your belly wildly and you must stifle a scream.

“feels good, princess? too good? want to cum on my cock, baby?” he coos, “fuck, let me feel you. i need to nut in you so bad, need to stuff you nice and pretty.” his cold hands pull you up and slam you against him, starting to stroke your hard nipples, your lips part open to release a curse that chenle waits for with expecting eyes. “fuck, i'm so close,” he announces, stopping briefly to catch his breath.

chenle suddenly chuckles behind you, “yn, don't fucking tell me you're making this a competition?” your laughter turns to an eager gasp when the switch the pace.

the constant movement has turned you into a whining mess as you try to encapsulate your newfound desire. your dress has wrinkled and the straps that hold them now lie undone, exposing your breasts that press against the pool table moving slightly from the magnitude of chenle's pounding.

your head pulls back and a hoarse moan breaks on your lips as his mouth rests on your neck and his teeth nibble on your skin as the thrusts slow down. your body feels enraptured and weak, and your muscles don't respond to your commands, totally carried away by the crushing desire.

chenle mutters something under his breath before his hands leave your breasts and you feel him cover them again with your dress. your cloudy gaze rests on the half-open slit of light coming in from the hallway, and like a spell you return to your five senses as you process what chenle has said before. your hearing comes back to you the moment you hear someone approaching the room, and something wrinkles in your stomach as you feel chenle still inside you, with no hint of pulling out his cock of you. tummy burning with aching thrill when the door opens and a figure hidden by the shadows stops right at the entrance.

your body is embalmed with terror when you recognize the figure. “sungie,” you pronounce, feeling your mouth dry. jisung slowly enters the room and your body tenses; chenle stands still behind you but one step closer and jisung would be able to see that his pants are on his calves. and your dress is wrinkled and moved up to your waist. and his dick is shoved down inside you. you swallow very hard. “still on the billiard match?” he asks with curiosity as he passes the two of you and heads to the bar.

“as you can tell,” chenle blurts out, and takes you by surprise when he moves his pelvis towards you; his penis slides easily in, then you feel him slide out. your cheeks burn at the notion that he's really fucking you while your brother is in the room, “will you take too long? we're in the middle of something.”

your eyes widen in panic at the choice of words and your belly tightens in turn because you're still aroused and because chenle keeps rocking you torturously slow and deep.

“mmm,” jisung hums and forces you to hold back the grimace of pleasure that was beginning to form on your face when he looks over his shoulder. “just came back for more cigars.”

your hand squeeze chenle's bicep as he shoves his cock, hitting the delicious swollen spot inside, rocking side to side to make sure you feel him against your walls, full length coated with your creamy arousal. your hips react impulsively and you grind against him when his hand pushes your stomach towards his dick and you feel it buried in you.

his eyes meet yours when you look over your shoulder, smiling smugly, “just like that.”

“screwing up.” fuck, he said what you think he said? you both stop abruptly when he walks towards you and stops right at the other end of the table. his eyes squint you for what seems like an eternity until his sight falls on the billiard balls. “the game's pretty much fucked up from the way i see it.” he clicks his tongue, “i'll let you to it.”

jisung barely leaves the room when you feel chenle slide out of you. your throat forms a groan when you feel the emptiness in your pussy, forced to die instantly when he spin you on your heels and his hands tug hard at your dress. “hey, this is silk, moron!”

you let him strip you of your dress and manipulate your body as he sees fit when he makes you sit on the edge of the table to slide the fabric down your knees when he responds, “i'll buy you a new one. only if you let me take it off.” the cold bites your bare skin and chenle's heavy, dark gaze devours it. your breath condenses in your throat by the primal look of the boy contemplating your body; it fills you with infinite glory to know how affected you are that your legs spread open.

his eyes fall on your crotch and something furious flutters on your belly when he licks his lips. “gonna stand there and look stupid?”

a wail of surprise escapes your lips as his cold hands open your legs wider to position themselves between them. your hands grind on his shirt, unbuttoning it with nimble fingers as you feel his mouth creeping around your neck. “you look so fucking delicious.” warm lips sit on your sensitive skin and for a moment you forget what you're doing, rolling your eyes as his teeth finally bury themselves in the smooth flesh and his cock enters you slowly.

you feel every inch he pushes inside, hands making you grind against him until he shoves it all the way in and leaves you stargazing.

your moans in unison gather in the air. “o-oh, god.” you swallow hard. face burning and tickling with raw desire damping chenle's cock when he begins to pound you.

chenle's head buries in your breasts and nibbles and sucks on your tits, tongue wrapping around your hard nipples, before taking them in his mouth one and then another, sending shivers down your spine. your insides tighten as he hums and you feel the vibrations of his vocal cords deep within you, wreaking havoc on your sanity.

you're completely out of your head. spacing. thoughts liquefy with every hard thrust he gives you. legs trembling with pleasure as your mouth spills moans one after the other. “jesus, le, o-oh~.” you lock glances with him, watching his face twitch excitedly, brows furrowed, and skin starting to sweat. “so good, princess.” his mouth attacks you fiercely in a wet kiss before his lips move to your shoulder, where he sucks and bites.

chenle makes you drown out a sound when he lunges at you and pushes you against the pool table, laying you on it while his fingers burrow into your ribs without stopping the haunting hammering of his pelvis. cock hitting over and over your sweet spot, making you smile mesmerized at how good it feels. hissing and groaning, “yes, yes.” fog clouding your senses, sharp pain numbing your limbs, dick fucking you so good. “o-oh—” you cry from pleasure, back arching and tears forming on your eyes. the crushing climax coming closer, you bite your lips, troubled.

your body arches and twists, pelvis moving in a spasm towards him, “fuck!” he pants, “fuck, i'm close, s-so close.” his eyes close savoring the thrilling moment of ecstasy that embraces him. your body goes into another spasm as the searing pleasure spills into your belly and runs wildly down into your pussy. “chenle—” a scream escapes your throat before your mind is clouded with white noise and your body is paralyzed before it starts to suffer waves of strong spasms.

chenle drinks every pronounced throb of your pussy, and delights in your clenching walls wrapping around his cock empties his seed inside before taking his length out and milk the rest on your stomach. pearls of cum dripping into your tummy as his hot nut inside you starts to slide out.

the fog begins to recede from your thoughts and now you find yourself totally sober to say “le,” in a whine, staring at your stomach, “you better clean this up before someone comes in.”

your hand gets lost in his hair as he comes down to you and his mouth begins to clean his cum from you. an excited laugh assails you when he also takes the opportunity to bite your belly.

you bite your lip when he gives your pussy a lash with his tongue. sucking and tasting your velvety arousal. you drown out a groan and a current shakes your body. chenle diligently wipes the remnants of ejaculation with his mouth, taking his time. hands spreading your legs wider as he teases you, tongue swirling against your folds and your entrance before moving to your swollen clit.

you let out a shaky groan when you suddenly remember something.

“you still have my panties, a souvenir?” you taunt.

chenle pulls back far enough for you to look into his eyes, mouth pulling away from your pussy when a smile forms on his lips. your body shakes in anticipation just as he pronounces, “a trophy.” he comes over and kisses you, the taste of his cum mixing on your tongue before you break the kiss and look out the door.

“d'you hear that?” you utter.

“the wind?” he says, making a pretense of kissing you again but you stop him.

“someone was there,” you pronounce, blood rushing up your neck just as a knot grips your stomach. “jisung! oh, my god, jisung was standing there!” you squeal, panicking.

chenle removes your nails off his skin and rolls his eyes “okay, and? hope he enjoyed the show, that fucking heathen.”

you shake your head, starting to freak out. “oh, my god! no! it can't be, right?... he c-can't-” you breathe before your eyes glaze at chenle, because the more you come out of lethargy and hysteria takes hold of you the clearer your mind becomes, and the sharper the figure in the hallway. “that foul harpy.” chenle sighs and holds a hand to his septum in anticipation.

“jini,” he states as if it were some kind of poison.

“you have to do something about it.”

chenle snorts, in disbelief. “like, what? killed her?”

“seduce her or something!”

he bursts out laughing. “yn, are you serious right now? remind me why would i do that?”

“because, because! she's blinded by greed. she'll tell everyone, and no one can know, jisung can't know. he'll ruin me.” you mutter.

“because you're daddy's girl?” he sneers maliciously. his eyes squint at you when he sees you so tormented.

you see him debating behind his wild eyes whether to help you or not and panic lures in you. shit. you're willing to cry if it means convincing him, and he can notice it, because he clicks his tongue in delight. “yn, yn, yn,” he says like a mantra, “fine, fine.” he gives in, watching you whipping away the fake tears.

“let daddy take care of it.”

there was no way to describe the relationship you had with zhong chenle. it could be this symbiosis where both parties could get what they wanted. putting your reputation in his vain hands not only made you feel stupid but at the same time relieved. despite being a manipulative liar, he had ambition. you don't think you can remember a time when he didn't get away with something he truly wanted. there was no better prospect than to leave your faith in the hands of his machiavellian wit.

so you return to the party, trying to look composed. but chenle is still haunting your head and not allowing you to concentrate. your parents introduce you to some important figures and you are forced to put up the best façade because jisung is nowhere to be seen to help you.

thinking about jisung doesn't help either.

chenle: meet me at the pier.

the cold nibbles your skin as you make your way to the old zhong pier. you used to come when you were younger in the summer to lie with ningning and jini on the shore to sunbathe before getting splashed by your brother and chenle. vacations on the lake were full of refreshing days where you either took a swim or lay on a boat where you fell asleep from the swaying.

the lake is frozen by a thin layer of ice, and the closer you get, the more you can hear the laughter and pleasant chatter that others have a little further away from you.

there's a cut-out silhouette at the edge of the pier, waiting for you.

“le.”

jini turns around and smiles at you sharply. “just the copycat.”

you smile patiently.

“dear jini, tell me what you plan to do? murder me?” you mention, stepping closer. “are you going to push me into the lake? literally stab me? i'm hard to kill, and i wonder, how long will it take before someone comes?”

“do you really think someone will come?” she utters furrowing her eyebrows, “your brother? who lives under your shadow? hyunjin or yeji, after telling them that you were against the agreement with their parents? ningning, who hates you as much as i do? haechan, or perhaps chenle?” her eyes sparkle when she mentions his name, and the implicit of it gives you chills when you start to doubt whether it was he or she who sent the message.

“you want everything i want,” you provoke.

“gosh, you're so self-centered, aren't you? taking space, and taking the things that were for others. you don't realize this is your end, and no one will come to your rescue. chenle won't come to your rescue,” she corrects.

“oh, no need,” you say simply. “i've always loved to be a martyr, it's poetic.”

“you're quite a psychopath.” she laughs, and it's only at that moment that you notice how much she's been getting closer to you as you talked. “i... like to be ambitious.”

a scream freezes in your throat as she pushes you toward the lake.

── 8:02hr 🃏 after ──

#nct dream smut #chenle smut #zhong chenle smut #chenle x reader

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qu1cks1lversb1tch · 2 months

Text

Everything | Overlord!Husk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Overlord!Husk fluff, established relationship with reader, very sweet and domestic, a slightly intimate moment near the end

Word Count: 913

Summary: You were out to support your fiancé while he did his job, but by the end you were about ready to drop, so he steps in to remind you exactly why you're marrying him and not some other overlord.

A/N — I've never written for Husk before — let alone Overlord!Husk, so I'm hoping this gets some love 💗

"It's about that time, my love." You whispered in his ear, watching the hands on the clock tick with every passing second — every passing minute.

Tick.

"I'll be done soon, Doll." His grip around your waist tightened as the men around the table stared you down like a piece of meat.

You thought he was insane playing high stakes games. On more than one occasion you found yourself uttering the phrase 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes', which was essentially the equivalent to 'fuck around and find out'. . . Which you had also said many, many, many times.

Husk nearly always had a good hand, so the prize was often money or jewelry — anything that was bet and valuable at the time of his win. Even souls, if they were put on the line. You loved watching those ones, as twisted as it likely sounded.

Hell, you were almost certain the engagement ring that sat prettily on your finger was won in a bet. No complaints regardless of how it came to be. It was sparkly and just your style.

The only time you had a complaint was when he chose gambling over his responsibilities. . . Namely making sure you were happy and satisfied. Even then, it was a rare occasion, despite practically being his whole job.

Tonight, though, you were bored.

You were hungry.

You were tired and just wanted to go home — but you stayed to support him and it was now long past when the two of you ate dinner and it was rapidly approaching the time when you usually went to bed, knowing your mornings were early and consisted of mentally taxing wedding planning with your closest friends.

You loved them, though, and appreciated all of their ideas. Who in Hell didn't love the idea of an event as important as an overlord wedding?

Bitter, loveless souls obviously — but other than that. . . Who?

When the game finally came to an end, it was no surprise to you when Husk collected his winnings. Almost 10K and two souls. You loved when things worked out.

"Let's get you home, Doll. You look fuckin' exhausted."

"You really know how to flatter a woman." You snorted, allowing him to lead you out of the casino he owned. "I should lock you out of the room for mentioning my exhaustion in public."

"Oh, don't be like that!" He smirked, playing into the little game you always played. When he played back, you knew you were about to get your way. "Gonna make you forgive me, one way or another."

You hummed with a smirk of your own, looking away from him. "We'll see."

"How about. . . Dinner at the house and a nice hot bath, hmm? . . And your favorite ice cream?"

Your smirk morphed into a smile. "Close, but we'll see."

"I'll join you?"

"You're forgiven."

It wasn't long before you were sat at the table eating the quick and delicious meal that Husk made — it was far from something he would've usually made, but it was delicious and you enjoyed it.

He finished eating first and went to run the bath for you, but not without kissing you on the forehead on his way to the shared bedrooms ensuite bathroom.

You loved that bathroom — it had been what sold you on the house in the first place. Sure, the kitchen was nice, but the bathroom had a huge bathtub, a spacious shower, and the colors of the floor and shower tiles went together without clashing or being gaudy.

The lighting wasn't bad either.

You called it your 'own little slice of Heaven'.

You soon finished and put your plate in the sink, but before you could wash up the couple dishes, Husk grabbed your hand and guided you to the bathroom where he urged you to undress and get into the hot bath while he handled the couple dishes.

You did as he asked and got undressed, stepping into the tub filled with water and bubbles. Immediately, the stress from the day melted away as the heat soothed the aching muscles that you surprisingly hadn't noticed until then.

Husk joined you a few minutes later, slipping into the water behind you. He hated water as much as the next cat, but for you, he'd do anything and everything.

"It was a long fuckin' day." He groaned at the hot water, your back pressed against his chest.

"You're telling me. . . I thought it would never end." You chuckled and then sighed contently. "I could fall asleep right here."

"You love going with me and you know it." Husk mused, his hands finding their way into your hair, fidgeting with the strands in a way that raised goosebumps.

"I do. But I also love having moments like this. Moments where it's just us. No gambling. No overlord society gala. No worries. Just us in our slice of Heaven."

He couldn't help but agree, those moments were perhaps the best part of his day.

And he'd give you that.

He'd give you everything.

It didn't matter what it was, whether it was material or otherwise. He loved you, so the world was yours if you asked. Money. Power. Anything. Everything.

"We have all of eternity for moments like this. . . We've already taken the first step." He ran one of his clawed hands down your arm until it was placed in the hand that the sparkly ring adorned, glistening in the light.

Everything for all of eternity.

🏷Tags: @6esiree

#hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin husker #husker x reader

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theminecraftbee · 5 months

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actually, out of the tags and further explanation: so I actually REALLY LOVE that mcc is like, canonizing making predictions about game and event winners like this, as well as making stats more accessible and explicitly part of the game like this.

the thing is—okay so I know stats are blamed for a lot of what’s wrong with mcc fandom but stats are FUN. sports predictions are FUN. being kind of competitive about sports predictions is FUN. have you ever done an ncaa bracket with your family. or played fantasy baseball. or fantasy football. or hell, have you watched a jon bois video that’s actually some of his sports writing. FUN, RIGHT? and stats are a really common way for a sports/competition fan to engage with their hobby, so like, there is no avoiding “people will try to make mcc predictions” and “people will stat out the teams” and “people will be competitive about those predictions”, it’s one of the most common modes of the sports fan, it’s an accessible form of engagement even when the team you are personally a fan of isn’t in the game (because you can be temporarily a fan of the one you’ve decided to gamble on winning), and it’s not gonna go away.

(the actual stakes of gambling aren’t required and I actually do not recommend outside of like, you get a stupid gold plastic trophy from a friend, do not get involved in sports gambling it’s a predatory industry and there is basically no “safe” threshold there, I am talking more about the inherent fun of “getting competitive about your team winning”.)

the problem has in the past been that players see it and get placed under pressure/upset/etc about it, because unlike Sports, the mcc players have very direct lines of interaction with their fandom. it’s VERY EASY to take a prediction as an attack, especially when combined with competitiveness, which is why I think a lot of people suggest forbidding talking about stats or tiers, getting rid of stats, etc.

but the thing is that won’t work. for one, it’s removing one of the biggest sports fan modes of engagement and therefore removing your own fandom. but also people aren’t going to NOT do stats! like, even the players will probably start keeping track of stats if stats were removed! so the solution instead needs to be to make stats more individual, to remove some of the pressure of the stats, and to lean into the stuff about it that makes it FUN.

therefore: the kudos system and predictions. it’s not trying to get rid of the inevitable fandom interaction, it’s embracing it, but it’s doing it in a way that removes pressure from players.

for example, note that the kudos have a focus on personal bests! this encourages players to compete but means even “lower-tier” players will probably get them! at the same time, by globally sharing overall records, it continues to celebrate and encourage great performances! plus, by making some of the stats really stupid, it both gives statheads NEW things to focus on that aren’t coins—the punching statistic for example is gonna be so fun—removing some of the pure pressure to perform in score alone and the centralization of discussion around it—and also gives players silly records to aim for if they aren’t the kind of player who’d aim for a more “traditional” high score.

as for the predictions, they’re gonna do two things. first, it embraces “yeah the community loves doing predictions” by adding a competitive aspect to it—can you beat the odds and predict who will win everything? the wordle-like ability to copy/paste how you did at the end of the event is truly genius because it makes it SUPER EASY to share and discuss for even casual fans. it will increase engagement and discussion. it’ll ALSO help demonstrate to players, by showing the percentage of correct predictions on screen, how… inaccurate… predictions often are. sure, you can guess who the better players and teams will be, but as anyone who did sexyman knows, single-round games can have upsets. and it celebrates those upsets! it turns it from “no one believed in us” (sad) to “we were the underdogs hell yeah look at us go!”

anyway as someone who likes engaging with sports and competitions by being a little competitive and watching the stories the numbers tell: I adore these changes FANTASTIC changes they’re gonna be so fun day-of let’s go mcc,

#mcc #I DONT KNOW IF IM PHRASING THIS ALL WELL #BUT HONESTLY I ADORE THIS DIRECTION. EXCELLENT STUFF.

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elodee · 4 months

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HERMIT A DAY MAY - DAY 23

TangoTek x Yu-Gi-Oh

For Tango I picked Yu-Gi-Oh!!

Most people know Yu-Gi-Oh! as a cartoon and card game, but in the original story the pharoah spirit who possesses Yugi is known as the King of Games, as in, all games. So who better to represent Yu-Gi-Oh! than the creator and dungeon master of Decked Out, the ultimate game within a game?

To learn more about Yu-Gi-Oh! and see my style references, continue below the cut.

@hermitadaymay

(The King of Games would definitely donate to Gamers Outreach)

Yu-Gi-Oh! is a manga and anime series about a boy named Yugi Mutou who solves a cursed puzzle from ancient Egypt and is then possessed by the spirit of a ruthless Pharoah who has lost all his memories.

"Ruthless?" I can hear fans of the anime saying. "The Pharoah is a good guy!"

Incorrect! He only becomes a good guy later. Early on he is literally Ancient Egyptian Jigsaw.

In the manga, the Pharoah takes over Yugi's body whenever Yugi is in danger, whether he wants it or not, and manipulates people into agreeing to rigged, high stakes Shadow Games. Once they inevitably lose, he traps them in a Penalty Game (a poetic justice torture scenario) for the rest of their lives or possibly all of eternity depending on the situation. It's really messed up! Highlights of early Yu-Gi-Oh Penalty Games include:

Lighting a guy on fire

Blinding a guy

Telltale Heart-ing a guy

Driving a guy so crazy his rips out his own eye

Blowing a guy up

Envenomating a guy with his own pet scorpion

Electrocuting people

Forcing a guy to endure an illusion of eternal zombie attacks

Trapping people in hell forever

...and more!

The show is way more family friendly and follows a significantly mellowed-out Pharoah and his friends as they battle bad guys with card games that summon monsters to fight on their behalf. It's pretty fun an campy!

However, Yu-Gi-Oh! the show is fairly well known so I also wanted to take this opportunity to introduce everyone to season 0 manga Pharoah, who is literally a serial killing ghost with a gambling problem that's possessing a 16 year old.

If you had an Egyptology phase as a kid, give Yu-Gi-Oh! a watch. If you watched Yu-Gi-Oh! as a kid, go read the early manga.

Style references:

There he is, the King of Games. The heart of the cards guides him but he also full on just, like, cheats too.

Malik, on the left, and Bakura, on the right. These two are villains from the show who are also teenagers possessed by (evil) Egyptian spirits that were trapped in cursed metal knick-knacks. Everyone in this show has Hair with a capital H.

The Yu-Gi-Oh! title design.

#I will never forget opening the manga as a kid and being absolutely delighted at how unhinged the Pharoah is #he'd see Hannibal kill and eat a guy and be like #well they WERE pretty rude #anyway for Tango I used the anime version #who is all noble and stuff #and still the king of games #which tango also is #the king of games I mean #not an amnesic serial killer #tangotek #hermitcraft #hermitaday

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cheesestakespoker · 1 year

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POKER ONLINE AT CHEESE STAKES POKER- Online Poker

#online poker #poker #poker face #poker game #high stakes pokereality #pokeronline #casino #gambling #blackjack #the poker house #cheesestakespoker #texas holdem

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nalyniavadelletargaryen · 2 months

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[ HOTD - Aegon Targaryen ]

HeadCannons SFW + NSFW

First Post…I have 3 other accs for 3 whole different interests. I think I’m going crazy atp. Anyway enjoy my PERSONAL thoughts on The Usurper King.

{ WARMINGS }: SFW + NSFW + MDNI + HIGH VALRYIAN

{ PRESS ▶️ }:

SFW

Aegon is a pleaser. Not in an “I’ll do whatever you want me to” way. More in the “I want you to love me, so I’ll do what it takes to keep your attention on me..” sense. It’s manipulative, but he’s grown up in an environment where love is withheld constantly, so he gives to take from you. Toxicity is his form of affection, and he’s aware of it but struggles to let you go…

Aegon tends to hold you on a pedestal. You aren’t to be touched by anyone but him. He can’t stand the thought of you being exposed to the sins he commits or has committed without his explicit intent to do so. You’re his greatest treasure, and with that title comes the burden of being kept close to him. Your innocence belongs to him; he will defend or defile it as he sees fit.

Aegon has a surreal weakness for his hair being played with. He immediately softens when you run your fingers through, ruffle, or swipe fallen strands from his eyes. More than a few times, he’s fallen asleep just because you are playing with his hair. If you ever bring it up as a weakness, he will deny it til his dying breath.

He will not sleep unless you’re in his bed. Aegon will purposefully preoccupy himself with drinking and every other deviant activity to keep from going to bed alone. You chalk it up as a cute habit of his at first, maybe even a sign of his protective nature, but in reality, he tends to be restless without the sound of your soft breathing and the feeling of your warm skin against his. Your presence eases his mind to a point he can’t always reach when sober.

Aggressive Protector. He has to have a say in your safety. Aegon can not stand when you leave without informing him of your whereabouts. He practically loses his mind when you refuse guards trailing your every move. His sanity momentarily slips when he awakes in the middle of the night to find you gone for a mere second. He’s overbearing in his approach to protect you and is vicious to anyone who implies harm your way.

Aegon will never actually apologize. He tends not to immediately snap at you during arguments, harboring a bittersweet wit for every conversation, but when he does snap back, it’s harsh and unforgiving. You take his words to heart every time, not speaking to him for days on end, and eventually, he breaks, but not in the standard way of admitting one’s wrongdoings. No, Aegon prefers to give you gifts and a semi-thoughtful gesture to regain your favor. “I apologize..” will rarely leave his lips but “You’ll forgive me, right?” Is a constant phrase he finds himself saying to you as a replacement..

He loves to chase. The thrill of playing a cat-and-mouse game through any means feeds his impulsive nature without fail. You can string him along anytime and in any way you prefer, and he will entertain the game with the intent to win by all means necessary. The very knowledge that you put up a fight against his charm to lose to it in the end makes his head spin with pride.

Games. Aegon loves to engage in tedious matches of the mind. It’s not his well-known trait or talent, but he is skilled at logistical gaming or gambling. He will not often put you up to a bet, even over the most minor things, just for the thrill of it. Whether you lose or win against him never really matters. He enjoys the stakes and risks of a challenge.

Physical touch is his primary love language. Second to this is acts of service. Aegon prefers to express himself through action rather than words, feeling as though he can be too harsh in his approach at times, and therefore, he resigns gentle shows of affection to touch. It’s easy enough to get used to him having a hold on you, and he delights in seeing others envious that you’re his and the only one he has. Most of the time, Aegon is somewhat tender with you, with an arm around your waist, kissing your temple or lips, or simply having you sit in his lap whenever he pleases. Then there are the moments where he can be brave with you, gripping your face when he speaks to you so your eyes never leave his, marking your neck with deep bruises just for the whole of the kingdom to see what he does to you.

Likes to be….” babied” but in the sense of “being cared for without explicit reasoning to do so.” The small things you do for Aegon catch his attention at first, simple tasks you don’t think much of in the moment, but for him, they heal a wound he never acknowledges. Bringing him something to sober up with after a long night of drinking and mending his clothes if they tear. Straightning up his appearance whenever you see fit. All and any of those actions touch the Usurper‘s fragmented heart.

NSFW

Innocence/Corruption: Aegon enjoys taking what he can’t have. That includes semblances of purity around him. Finding out you’ve never been touched or fucked will strip an urge in him. It’s primal and dark, but he’s addicted to being the first man to show you absolute pleasure. Aegon's favored approach is teasing you, toying with you whenever he can, to tear you apart under the guise of wanting to teach you what desire means.

Power Dynamic: He is very aware of his status and will use it to his advantage. Knowing you can’t refuse a command he’s given, realizing you’ll obey anyway, and using this information for his gain keeps him on edge. Of course, you’ll fall to your knees and milk him dry. He’s your king. If your sovereign tells you to come undone for the third time in one night by his hand, then you have no right to refuse him. It's as simple as that.

Slight Mommy Issues: When Aegon desires to be under your control, he gives in so quickly. He can be defiant, playful, and challenging to control, but it only makes you relentlessly take him. He adores it. Your soft gaze hardens on him, the steely edge to your tone when you tell him to kneel for you, and the gradual roughness you inflict on him as the tension builds. It’s a little too easy to dwindle The Pretender down to a whimpering and whining mess, but you succeed when the opportunity presents itself.

Praise/Degradation: Aegon doesn’t lean to either. He can balance his words and their effect with little effort. A backhanded comment to you always has an underlying adoration. He’s a skilled charmer, knowing when to push you with words of encouragement and when to belittle you until tears creep down your cheeks. “Don’t tell me you’re so ignorant to believe I’ll let you come undone so soon, sweetling.” “Morbidly pathetic little slut aren’t you?..” “You’re doing so well, sweet girl. “ “Keep your eyes on me..just like that..” “You’re not half as talkative with your mouth so full now…what a shame?..”

Aegon is a master at posing false sympathy and an even better expert at mocking you. Whether he means well by what he says is always the furthest concern in your mind when the pleasure they inflict is forcefully automatic.

Oral Fixation/Enthusiast: He adores your mouth. The softness of your lips, how warm it is, and even the silliness of your tongue when you use it on him has Aegon in a perpetual trance. He discovered the little obsession with your mouth during a tenuous family gathering. You kept nibbling at various fruits, sucking, and licking the juices that leaked from them with little attention to those who noticed you doing so. Aegon certainly noticed, his cock twitching with need when your kitten licked your fingertips, picked another small fruit to sink your teeth into, and swallowed down with a quiet hum. Later that evening, you couldn’t stop him from slipping his fingers past your sticky lips, quietly gagging as you sucked on them gently and moaning quietly as he watched you intently. The slight smile tugging at his mouth when you choke and whine as his fingers fuck your mouth drives him to push you down on your knees a moment later, replacing his hand with his cock with little protest from you. He shouldn’t like the sight of you crying as he fucks your face so much, but oh, does Aegon love to see you indulge in him with nothing but your pretty and supple lips.

Pain: Aegon will leave his mark on you one way or another. He’ll never raise a hand to you out of pure anger, but in the thralls of lust, you’ll endure an affliction or two. He’s pretty handy with you, able to manhandle your more petite frame without much thought, and seemingly forgetful that not all your dresses will cover the evidence of his roughness with you. “Let them see…let the gods see if they must…” He insists that no other opinion is of consequence, and you always fall for it. The next day, you’re left to endure people whispering about the bruises on your exposed skin and the lingering red imprint of his hands around your throat. You leave your marks on him as well, scratches on his skin, little bites on his neck, and the rouge you use for lips staining his collar.

Overstimulation: seeing you writhe and shake under his touch stimulates Aegon. The quick rush of your breaths as you try to contain yourself, tears streaming down your face, with the urge to come overpowering you. He drinks in the sight with a smile, forcing the high from you to reach his own. Seeing your face fall and confront with various expressions as you visibly can't take him anymore drags out Aegon’s demented nature. It's nearly otherworldly how much he loves seeing you come violently, on his cock, in his mouth, on his hand…? It doesn't matter as long as you are physically struggling to stay sane.

Exhibitionism: Aegon chases thrills constantly. Whether it be to disrupt his mother’s peace of satisfy his own desire for fun he ropes you into his ‘harmless’ schemes often. Fucking you to the point of tears in the throne room is a favored past time of his. He knows very well how terrified you are of being caught in the act, of any servant, lord, and lady alike happening upon him having his way with you. He knows and he holds that knowledge over your head, enjoying the way you try to quiet yourself, and prideful of the fact that you fail miserably.

Titles/Pet Names: Aegon is careful with the way he addresses you. Though it varies upon his mood in the moment he’s partial to more affectionate titles. “Sweetling” “My Queen.” “Darling.” “Sweet girl.” “Kēlītsos” (Kitten) “Byka mandia” (Little Mouse) “Hāedar” (Younger sister) & “Dōna mandia” (Sweet sister). You exchange the pet names from him with equal contentment; “My love.” “My King.” “Aeg.” “Rōva lēkia” (Big brother) “Lēkia.” (Elder brother).

This took me way too long to finish but I’m glad it’s my first post. 💚

{ SEALED CONTENT }

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nodusomnis · 5 months

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title: ending scene pairing(s): aventurine x gn!reader word count: 8.6k+ synopsis: a perfect ending, a moment divine. two souls entwined, their destinies aligned.

In the wake of the debacle that unfolded within the confines of Clock Studios Theme Park, Aventurine found himself clashing with a torrent of memories, cascading upon him amidst the tumultuous clash with The Nameless. The encounter with the Emanator of Nihility, Acheron, added another layer to his introspection. He had not anticipated a meaningful exchange with her, let alone receiving the answers to the questions that had long haunted his thoughts, yet remained unspoken.

His mind had been consumed by his mission, driven by a desire to unearth the truths obscured by The Family's clandestine ploys. Yet, beneath it all, lay a vulnerability he had concealed, encased within layers of self-preservation.

Aventurine was a fragile soul, shielded by layers of barriers against the insecurities coursing through his veins. Each layer seemed meticulously etched into his being, a defense mechanism designed to protect his fractured self from further harm. It was as though he had been molded by circumstance, destined to endure until the end.

The specter of Death had loomed large, a tantalizing prospect of liberation from the shackles binding him in place. However, it appeared that fate had other designs, offering him a reprieve, albeit bittersweet. Aventurine had exhausted every resource, staked his final chip and his very essence, to grasp the one elusive prize he coveted above all else—freedom.

The sensation was intoxicating, a long-denied elation flooding his senses as he bid farewell to his former self, Kakavasha. With measured steps, he approached the yawning abyss, a void of darkness and uncertainty where his final gambit awaited. Here, amidst the unknown, his destiny beckoned, and it was within his power to seize it, to forge a new path toward the life he yearned for.

True death, once a tempting prospect, now held no sway over him. He had relinquished its grip on his destiny, opting instead to embrace the unknown with resolve, prepared to confront whatever trials lay ahead on his journey to redemption.

As Aventurine's resounding footsteps echoed through the cavernous space, punctuated by the gentle splashes of water with each step, a voice resonated within his mind, disrupting his thoughts like a sudden thunderclap in the silence.

"Do you believe your luck will never wane?"

Aventurine froze in his tracks. The voice, hauntingly familiar, sliced through the stillness, dredging up memories of chance encounters and shared moments in the Land of Festivities.

It was you, the enigmatic figure he had crossed paths with amidst the opulent walls of a Penacony casino, where the allure of chance beckoned like a siren's call.

In a rare departure from his relentless pursuit of his mission, Aventurine had allowed himself a fleeting indulgence—a dalliance with Lady Luck amidst the glittering lights and frenetic energy of the gambling den. The thrill of the game, the towering stacks of chips exchanged like currency in a high-stakes dance, held him in thrall.

Seated at the poker table, surrounded by fellow players, each with their own tales of triumph and despair, Aventurine reveled in the stimulating blend of risk and reward. The round table, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of fortunes, bore witness to his calculated gambit, his skillful manipulation of the odds.

For Aventurine, winning was not merely a possibility—it was a certainty, as innate to his being as the very act of breathing.

As Aventurine boldly wagered half of his towering stack of chips, each worth a staggering million, the atmosphere around the table crackled with disbelief, leaving his fellow players astounded and speechless. Unconcerned with the monetary value or potential rewards, he sought only the thrill of risk, a sensation that coursed through him like a tempestuous tide, simultaneously exhilarating and unnerving.

Confident in his own luck, he staked his fortune on the game, even with a modest hand of two pairs. Trusting in the whims of fate and the calculated odds, he remained poised, concealing the tumult of anxiety that churned within him beneath a mask of stoic composure.

Yet, beneath the veneer of confidence, Aventurine grappled with the relentless pounding of his heart, the palpitations echoing the intensity of his emotions. Clutching a single chip beneath the table, he clung to it as if it were a lifeline, a tangible anchor amidst the rumpus of uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm him.

"That is an audacious wager, Mr. Aventurine. Are you unequivocally committed to this course of action?" inquired the individual seated across from him, their voice tinged with apprehension.

In response to the incredulous query from his fellow player, Aventurine offered only a sardonic smirk, a silent affirmation of his resolve. "I am certain," he replied, his voice laced with a quiet confidence. "This is but the grand finale of our game—a conclusion befitting of our stakes."

"Is he not one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC? The individual notorious for his gambling addiction?"

"Yes, indeed. His name is rumored to be Aventurine."

As murmurs rippled through the crowd, whispers of his identity as one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC—a figure rumored to be consumed by the allure of gambling—reached his ears. He’s not surprised if they know him. After all, the influence wielded by the IPC was not to be underestimated, its reach extending across the cosmos, its prominence ensuring the preservation of its power and prestige. Therefore, rather than shying away from the scrutiny, Aventurine embraced the spotlight, reveling in the recognition bestowed upon him by the throngs of onlookers.

With a subtle shift of his gaze, he surveyed the faces of his fellow players, noting the flickers of trepidation that danced across their features. It was a sight that brought him a perverse sense of satisfaction, a reminder of the raw essence of gambling—the interplay of anxiety, anticipation, and despair—that fueled his very existence.

As the tension peaked and the moment of truth arrived, Aventurine and his adversary revealed their cards to unveil identical two pairs, setting the stage for a climactic showdown. However, it was Aventurine's hidden ace that tipped the scales in his favor, securing his victory in the final round and solidifying his reputation as a master of chance.

The audience erupted into gasps of awe and scattered applause, their reactions serving as testament to Aventurine's extraordinary luck and skill. Their admiration only added to the weight of his legend, reinforcing the notion of his seemingly boundless fortune.

“Do you believe your luck will never wane?”

Amidst the flurry of excitement, Aventurine's gaze intersected with where he heard the voice. There you stood, a stoic figure amidst the throngs of spectators. Your expression, devoid of the fervor that gripped the crowd, exuded a palpable indifference that set you apart from the sea of adulation.

For Aventurine, accustomed to the praise and criticism that accompanied his every move, your silent scrutiny held a weight far greater than the cacophony of voices around him. It was as if your gaze alone bore the gravity of a thousand judgments, casting doubt upon his invincible facade.

As you gracefully departed from the scene, gliding through the crowd with an effortless poise, Aventurine felt a fleeting impulse to pursue you, to unravel the mystery behind your statement. Yet, before he could act upon his impulse, the dealer's call snapped him back to reality, redirecting his attention to the present moment.

With a final glance in your direction, Aventurine reluctantly tore his gaze away, refocusing his attention on the game at hand. Though your departure left a lingering curiosity in his mind, he knew that the cards had been dealt, and it was time to play his hand.

The following day, Aventurine ventured once more into the hallowed halls of the casino, his gaze wandered across the expanse of the venue, alighting upon a figure seated at a poker table amidst a horde of eager players. In an instant, recognition dawned upon him, for there, amidst the sea of faces, sat the individual he had encountered the day prior.

Without hesitation, Aventurine strode purposefully towards the table, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected reunion. Never had he anticipated crossing paths once more with you in a city as vast as Penacony.

As he approached, he observed the scene unfolding before him—the table abuzz with the energy of the game, the players immersed in the pursuit of fortune. However, amidst the dissonance of chips clinking and cards shuffling, his attention was drawn inexorably to you, seated with an air of composed indifference despite your apparent lack of chips.

It was the same familiar insouciance he’d seen in your first meeting. How funny.

The mocking taunts of a fellow player echoed through the room, directed towards you with a mixture of derision and amusement. Despite your depleted reserves, you remained unruffled, your countenance betraying none of the desperation that typically accompanied such circumstances.

"It appears fortune has yet to favor me," you remarked casually, your tone devoid of any hint of concern.

A ripple of laughter emanated from your adversary, his jeering palpable as he sought to goad you into yet another round of play, urging you to replenish your dwindling supply of chips. Yet, you met his jests with an inscrutable gaze in the face of his provocations.

Aventurine, with a knowing glint in his eye, couldn't help but chuckle softly at the scene. He was well acquainted with the minds of these gamblers, their intentions transparent as glass. It was clear they sought to deplete your remaining resources, confident in their ability to emerge victorious. Indeed, in their minds, the prospect of claiming more rewards danced tantalizingly.

"They will engage in further play," Aventurine interjected, his voice slicing through the air, commanding the attention of all present, including yourself. The seasoned gambler spared no glance for your fellow players; instead, his focus lingered keenly upon you, a fact not lost on the others.

Interrupting any potential protests, he spoke before you could voice your objections.

"Since it appears they lack anything of value to offer, why not allow me to play on their behalf instead? Care to oppose?" The challenge issued by Aventurine lingered, met with smirks and laughter from the assembled men, their eyes alight with greed.

"Well, well, well... I admire your audacity, lad. The more stakes, the merrier, isn't that right?" Their laughter cascaded like a chorus, oblivious to the fact that in Aventurine, they faced a master amongst masters in the art of acquisition.

"How naive..." you muttered under your breath, earning only a gentle touch from Aventurine atop your head, his actions eliciting a look of incredulity from you.

"Regardless, shall we proceed?"

With the deal struck, the game unfurled as the dealer meticulously distributed cards to each player. You observed with keen interest, your gaze occasionally drifting toward the blonde gentleman seated beside you. Sensing your scrutiny, he met your eyes briefly before offering a sly smile, his actions enigmatic yet intriguing.

Furrowing your brow in silent inquiry, you sought to discern his intentions, but he merely pressed a finger to his lips in response.

"Remain composed and observe," his silent directive seemed to convey.

Resigned to his inscrutable demeanor, you acquiesced, allowing him free rein. As the game progressed, the man who had thus far dominated proceedings wore a self-assured smirk, placing a bid worth half a million credits. The others hesitated, yet one figure, the notorious gambler seated beside you, sees this as an opportunity.

"Ah, now we're truly delving into the heart of the matter," Aventurine chuckled, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his tinted glasses with a light touch. "Since you seem to relish in the thrill of risk-taking, my good sir, why not elevate the stakes even further?"

His words trailed off, drawing the attention of all present once more, including yours, earning him a quizzical raised eyebrow. You couldn't fathom what he had up his sleeve, but a sense of impending audacity pervaded the atmosphere.

"If fortune favors you," Aventurine continued, his tone laced with a hint of challenge, "I shall generously double all the chips you currently possess."

Gasps and murmurs break through the assembled spectators at the grit of his offer, whispers swirling with tales of his legendary gambling prowess. But, to you, his proposition came as no surprise. You were well aware of Aventurine's penchant for daring wagers, although the sheer magnitude of this gamble caught even you off guard.

"But," Aventurine's voice lowered, carrying an air of quiet authority, as he plucked a single chip from his side and deftly flicked it across the table to the stunned recipient, "should fortune favor me..."

The chip landed in the bewildered man's grasp, his expression a mix of confusion and apprehension as he gazed back at Aventurine.

"You will forfeit all the chips you've amassed from this individual," Aventurine concluded, his gaze steady and unwavering.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at his bold proclamation, a protest bubbling at the edge of your lips.

"Hey—"

"I am the player at present, am I not?" Aventurine's tone brooked no argument, his gaze met yours, a silent reminder that he held the reins of the game.

With a resigned sigh, you bit your lower lip, restraining yourself from interjecting. After all, you weren't a participant in the game at this moment, merely an observer. And within the confines of the casino, such displays of audaciousness were not uncommon. Still, the realization that Aventurine was willing to go to such lengths to aid a stranger only added to the ever-growing meter of outrageousness you held for him.

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as the man across the table digested Aventurine's audacious proposition. Initially met with disbelief, a subtle transformation overtook his countenance, the contours of his features twisting into a sinister smirk. A chill of foreboding gripped your senses, a premonition of impending turmoil settling like a shadow upon your consciousness.

Amidst the mounting tension, your gaze darted toward Aventurine, seeking solace in his unwavering composure. His demeanor remained calm amidst the tempestuous currents swirling around you, offering little insight into the hand he held concealed beneath the veil of his cards. With bated breath, you awaited the revelation that would determine the outcome of this high-stakes gamble, each passing moment fraught with palpable suspense.

"Very well, let us lay bare our fortunes," the old man declared, his tone laced with arrogance as he motioned towards the deck. With a flourish, the cards were revealed, their secrets laid bare for all to see.

In a swift and decisive move, Aventurine emerged victorious, his triumph resounding with effortless grace. The cocky facade of his adversary crumbled in an instant, replaced by an expression of bitter defeat as he clutched his head in despair. With a rueful sigh, he relinquished the spoils of his ill-fated gamble, returning to you the chips that had once slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

As you and Aventurine exited the confines of the casino, the weight of gratitude settled upon your shoulders like a heavy mantle. Despite the reckless nature of his intervention, you couldn't help but feel a surge of appreciation for his timely assistance. Yet, beneath the surface of your gratitude lurked a nagging sense of wariness, a reminder of the perilous waters into which you had unwittingly waded.

"Thank you for your help back there," you offered sincerely, the words heavy with genuine appreciation. Aventurine responded with a disarming smile, though his subsequent words bore the weight of underlying intent.

"Do not misconstrue my actions as mere altruism. I acted with purpose, not without consideration for my own interests," he remarked, his tone tinged with a subtle edge that sent a shiver down your spine. "Surely, you are aware of who I am."

Closing the distance between you, Aventurine's imposing figure loomed over you, his gaze piercing and inscrutable. You felt the telltale twitch of your eyes and the tightening of your fists at your sides, a reflexive response to the palpable aura of danger that surrounded him.

"This is precisely why I avoid entanglements with individuals like yourself," you admitted, your voice laced with a mixture of resignation and apprehension.

Aventurine's laughter rang out, a melodic sound that grated against your nerves. "But in this instance, you have no choice but to engage, do you not? Now, onto the matter at hand – I seek answers regarding your cryptic statement from yesterday."

Your eyebrow arched in bemusement at his unexpected inquiry. "There was no deeper meaning to my words. I merely commented on your inherent luck, having observed your exploits within the casino since your arrival in Penacony."

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you cursed inwardly at the unforeseen repercussions of your offhand remark. Aventurine's scrutinizing gaze bore into you with unsettling intensity, seemingly searching for any trace of falsehood within your composed demeanor.

"Very well, if that is indeed the case, then I have another proposition for you," he declared, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. Your heart quickened at the implication of trouble brewing on the horizon, yet you met his gaze with steely resolve.

"And what might that be?"

"Be my eyes and ears here in Penacony," Aventurine proposed, his smirk widening into a grin that sent a chill down your spine.

The story of your unlikely alliance with Aventurine had begun. If ever the unexpected news circulated amongst the circles of Penacony, many would find it incredulous that someone of his stature, a member of the esteemed Ten Stonehearts, would place trust in a mere stranger. Indeed, to the uninitiated observer, the notion seemed absurd – a contradiction in terms that defied logic and reason. But, for Aventurine, such trivial matters held little sway over his calculated decisions.

To him, trust was a commodity to be traded with caution, its value contingent upon a myriad of factors that extended far beyond surface appearances. In his world, betrayal and deception were the currency of every world, woven seamlessly into his existence. And so, when he extended his offer to you, it was not born of blind faith or naivety, but rather a calculated gamble rooted in the certainty of his own capabilities.

He knew, with certainty, that even if you were to betray him or fabricate falsehoods in his presence, he possessed the keen intellect and astute intuition to discern truth from lies. In his eyes, you were but a pawn in his grand scheme – a pawn whose movements he could predict with precision, regardless of the facades you chose to adopt.

However, to his surprise and consternation, you defied his expectations at every turn. Despite your initial reluctance and the aloof demeanor you projected, you proved yourself to be a reliable ally – one whose resourcefulness and ingenuity surpassed his own assumptions.

How did you gather your intel, he wondered? Was it through mingling with the citizens of Penacony, ingratiating yourself into their midst to extract information like a skilled puppeteer manipulating marionettes? Aventurine pondered these questions with a mixture of intrigue and frustration, unable to fathom the depths of your strategy.

Perhaps it was a sense of indebtedness that drove you, he mused. The desire to repay a perceived debt hanging heavy upon your conscience, compelling you to fulfill your obligations despite your reservations. Or perhaps, you were simply averse to owing favors, unwilling to be beholden to another soul, even one as formidable as Aventurine.

Whatever the reason, Aventurine found himself grappling with the mystery that was you – a puzzle whose pieces refused to align neatly within the edges of his understanding. And though he may never unravel the mysteries of your motivations, he couldn't deny the undeniable truth: in you, he had encountered a force to be reckoned with – a fool, perhaps, but a fool whose strength lay in the depths of your unfathomable resolve.

In the bustling streets of Penacony, amidst the cacophony of laughter and music that permeated the air, you continued your clandestine endeavors as Aventurine's trusted confidant. With practiced discretion, you navigated the labyrinthine alleys and bustling marketplaces, seamlessly blending into the tapestry of everyday life in the Land of Festivities. To the casual observer, you were but another face in the crowd – unremarkable, inconspicuous, and utterly forgettable.

Yet, beneath the veneer of anonymity, you carried out your duties with unwavering dedication and precision. Gathering tidbits of information like shards of broken glass, you pieced together the intricate puzzle of Penacony's underworld, all the while maintaining a facade of normalcy to ward off any suspicion that may arise.

Aventurine, ever the astute observer, commended your efforts with a rare display of generosity, treating you to rounds of soulglads despite your persistent protests. You rebuffed his gestures with firm resolve, adamant in your refusal to be indebted to him once more. Yet, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of detachment, Aventurine possessed a knack for circumventing your defenses, his genuine concern and camaraderie slipping through the cracks of your stoic exterior.

For Aventurine, whose existence had long been steeped in solitude and mistrust, your presence offered a rare glimpse of authenticity amidst the sea of duplicity that surrounded him. Though he wore the mask of manipulation and trickery with practiced ease, there lingered within him a kernel of genuineness – a flicker of humanity that defied the confines of his carefully constructed facade.

Trusting others had always been a precarious endeavor for Aventurine, a vulnerability he was loath to embrace. To him, every word spoken and gesture made was a calculated maneuver, a chess move in the intricate game of deception that defined his existence. Yet, in your company, he found himself traversing uncharted territory – a realm where sincerity and trust held sway, however fleetingly.

As days transitioned into days, and days into weeks, the bond between you and Aventurine grew stronger, shaped within the crucible of mutual understanding and respect.

The vibrant hues of dawn painted the skyline of Penacony's skyscrapers in surreal brilliance, you stood alongside Aventurine at the Dream's Edge, marveling at the breathtaking spectacle unfolding before you. The scene was surreal, almost otherworldly, for how could there be a sunrise in the Dreamscape—a world where reality and dreams intertwine?

However, amidst the awe-inspiring panorama, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. Why had Aventurine summoned you to this ethereal realm, away from the hustle and bustle of waking life, with no other souls in sight?

As you gaze upon Aventurine's countenance, a wave of surprise and intrigue washes over you, for the sight before you is unlike anything you've ever beheld. The ethereal glow of the sun caresses his features, casting a radiant halo around him, as if nature itself conspired to illuminate his presence.

His visage, once adorned with the mischievous curve of a smirk, now wears an expression of profound introspection. Those eyes, usually dancing with mischief, now reflect a depth of emotion you've never witnessed before—a blend of serenity and sorrow that tugs at the strings of your heart.

Gone is the cocksure grin that was his trademark, replaced by a solemnity that seems to weigh heavily upon him. It's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a side of Aventurine you never knew existed—a side that is raw, vulnerable, and achingly human.

Aventurine stands amidst the whispers of the breeze, his silhouette a portrait of contemplation against the canvas of dawn. His golden tresses dance in harmony with the wind, a silent symphony of nature's serenade. But it's not just the tendrils of his hair that sway; there's a subtle dance in his demeanor, a rhythm of emotions that ripple beneath the surface.

In the soft glow of sunlight, his features are painted with an ethereal hue, casting shadows that play upon the landscape of his face. There's a longing, a yearning, etched in the lines of his brow, as though he's searching for something beyond the horizon, something elusive yet tantalizingly close. His eyes, windows to the depths of his soul, betray the secrets he guards so closely, each flicker and glimmer a testament to the complexities hidden within.

You've been tethered to his side, bound by a debt that intertwines your fates in a dance of obligation and intrigue. Yet, despite the proximity, the enigma of Aventurine remains veiled in mystery. He is a man of many facets, a puzzle with pieces that shift and rearrange with every passing moment. Cunning and unpredictable, he defies easy categorization, a riddle waiting to be unraveled.

Through numerous interactions, the two of you have maintained a strictly professional relationship, focused solely on exchanging gathered information. Neither of you delved into personal matters, content with knowing only the basics about each other. This engagement is a singular occurrence, with no desire to complicate matters further. There's a firm boundary between you, each respecting the other's space and avoiding unnecessary entanglements.

In the midst of a tranquil moment, punctuated only by the soft whispers of the breeze, his voice broke the silence, drawing your focus away from the horizon. Without turning to meet your gaze, he posed a question that seemed innocuous on the surface but hinted at a deeper curiosity.

"What brings you to Penacony? Is it for leisure or some other purpose?"

Your response, delivered with a casual nonchalance, betrayed none of the complexity brewing beneath the surface. "No particular reason. Just wandering, as wanderers tend to do."

As you drew closer to him, mirroring his contemplative stance.. But it was his next words that stirred something within you, a recognition of the carefully guarded boundaries you both maintained.

"You're an enigma," Aventurine mused, his tone betraying a hint of curiosity tinged with respect. "I know nothing of your origins, your affiliations, or even the world you call home. You exist as a blank canvas against the backdrop of the universe."

His observation prompts you to turn towards him, a faint grimace touching your features. It's clear that his words have struck a chord, stirring a sense of curiosity within you that matches his own.

"You went snooping into my background?" Your words cut through the air with a sharpness that catches Aventurine's attention.

"And the idea of me discreetly digging into your background never crossed your mind?" Aventurine's tone carries a hint of amusement.

"I had my suspicions, especially considering your ties to the IPC. Knowing you, you always manage to dig up information to give yourself an edge. But I'll give credit where it's due; at least you're forthright about it, even if it does irk me."

"Right now?" Aventurine raises an eyebrow, his amusement growing.

"Yes, right now.”

"But why can't I detect any anger in your demeanor?"

"Because I'm not one to wear my emotions on my sleeve. I prefer to keep them under wraps," you explain, a sense of guardedness creeping into your voice.

Aventurine's laughter rings out at your refusal, his amusement evident in the glint of his eyes. "Unfair, isn't it? You hold all the cards, knowing who I am, while I'm left in the dark except for a mere name and your claim of being a wanderer. But how about a little game?"

Your expression twists in disdain at his transparent attempt to glean information. You see through his ploy and have no intention of playing along.

"I won't indulge your little charade just to satisfy your curiosity about me. Nice try," you retort firmly.

Aventurine's grin widens as he deftly flips a coin through his fingers, the metallic glint catching the light before he catches it effortlessly.

"Such a shame.”

Once more, silence descends between you, a tense pause punctuated only by the soft rustle of the wind. Then, Aventurine breaks the quiet again with a pointed question.

"So, perhaps you know my origin?"

As you locked gazes with Aventurine, a subtle shift in his demeanor didn't escape your notice. His voice, usually laced with confidence and bravado, now carried a hushed tone, tinged with an underlying tremor that uncovered a vulnerability you had never before witnessed in him. It was a nuance that spoke volumes, revealing a depth of emotion that contradicted his stoic facade.

In that moment, as the weight of his unspoken words hung heavy in the air, your gaze was drawn to his features—the striking contours of his face, the subtle symmetry that bespoke a beauty both rare and captivating. It was a beauty that bespoke his heritage, his lineage tracing back to the long-lost race of Avgins, a people now consigned to the annals of history.

The knowledge of his origins colored your perception of him, for you understood the burden he bore as one of the last of his kind. Avgins, known for their exquisite beauty and mesmerizing eyes, had long been subjected to discrimination and extinction, their very existence a reminder of a bygone era fraught with prejudice and fear.

You couldn't fault him for his choice to conceal his eyes behind tinted glasses, for you knew all too well the scrutiny and suspicion that awaited those who carried the unmistakable mark of their ancestry. In every world where difference was met with disdain, Aventurine's desire to shield himself from prying eyes was not born of vanity, but of necessity—a means of self-preservation in a society quick to judge and condemn.

And yet, even as he sought refuge behind his carefully constructed facade, there was a rawness to him, a vulnerability that transcended the barriers he had erected. In his eyes, you glimpsed the echoes of a lost heritage, the silent lament of a people erased from history, and in that moment, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you had never imagined possible. For beneath the mask of his bravado lay a soul as fragile and ephemeral as the dawn, yearning to be seen and understood in a world that had long since forgotten of the adversity.

"Yes, I do..." Your admission lingers in the air, carried away by the wind that brushes past, stirring the stillness that settled over the conversation. Aventurine's reaction is subtle, a scoff followed by a nonchalant shrug, his gaze shifting towards the towering skyscrapers that dominate the skyline.

"Not surprising," he remarks dismissively.

As you watch him, a faint blemish mars the pristine image you've always held of Aventurine. It's a glimpse of vulnerability, fleeting yet unmistakable, like a small blotch of ink on an otherwise clean canvas. It catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

But just as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability vanishes, replaced by Aventurine's usual composed facade as though nothing had transpired.

His sudden question jolts you back to the present, breaking the silence once more. "Do you think life is meaningless?"

It's unexpected, a departure from the usual banter and guarded exchanges between you. For a moment, you're caught off guard, searching for an answer devoid of pretense or artifice.

"Well, if you ask me, maybe it is, maybe not." Your response carries a sense of introspection, reflecting the uncertainty that comes with a life spent wandering the vast expanse of the universe without a clear destination. "I've been traveling aimlessly for many years, letting my feet guide me wherever they please. In essence, I suppose you could say my existence lacks a defined purpose. So perhaps life does seem meaningless."

You pause, considering your next words carefully. "But then again, don't we all have something we yearn for, even in the midst of aimlessness? Whether it's something grand or seemingly insignificant, there's always a longing, a desire to attain or achieve something. And perhaps, in the pursuit of that something, we find purpose."

Aventurine regards you with an inscrutable expression, his eyes betraying nothing.

"What if that something is death?" he poses, his question hanging heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the conversation.

You allow the silence to envelop you, granting it the space to linger between you before offering your heartfelt response.

"If one desires death, shouldn't they cease struggling to stay alive, to preserve themselves? Why endure the effort of self-preservation if death is the ultimate desire? It seems contradictory."

You continue, your words measured yet earnest. "Self-preservation, in itself, suggests a desire to continue living, to pursue something beyond mere existence. And in that pursuit, even if it leads to death, there lies purpose. For what is life, if not a series of pursuits, desires, and aspirations?"

As you continue speaking, Aventurine's attention remains fixed on you, though his mind is a hurricane of conflicting emotions. He finds himself grappling with a sudden surge of questions, an inexplicable urge to peel back the layers of his carefully constructed pretense and lay bare the vulnerabilities he so meticulously conceals.

The landscape before him, though undoubtedly breathtaking to most, elicits a different reaction in Aventurine. Instead of wonder or awe, he feels a deep-seated unease, a gnawing sense of unworthiness that claws at the edges of his consciousness. It's as if he's an intruder in a world to which he doesn't belong, a sentiment reinforced by his own self-imposed exile from the beauty and splendor that surrounds him.

For Aventurine, the harsh realities of his upbringing on a barren, unforgiving world have left an indelible mark on his psyche. He's accustomed to a life of scarcity and struggle, where survival is earned through grit and determination rather than basking in the luxuries of a privileged existence. The opulence of his surroundings only serves to highlight the stark contrast between his own perceived inadequacies and the perceived perfection of those around him.

And yet, despite his inner turmoil, Aventurine's gaze remains fixed on you, drawn to the radiant warmth that seems to emanate from your very being. In your presence, he feels the weight of his self-imposed limitations pressing down upon him, a reminder of the vast chasm that separates him from the world above.

As you stand bathed in the golden glow of the sunlight, Aventurine can't help but feel a pang of envy, a longing to inhabit the same ethereal orbit where you reside. But deep down, he knows that such aspirations are futile, for he is bound by the shackles of his own insecurities, forever consigned to the shadows while you soar amongst the stars.

He is nothing.

He ushered you to this secluded spot, not for another mission or strategy session, but to bid you farewell. The contract that bound you together, the alliance forged through countless endeavors, has reached its natural conclusion. Every detail meticulously arranged, thanks in no small part to your invaluable insights. Now, standing before you, he prepares to embark on the final leg of his journey, a path long contemplated and now irrevocably chosen.

Meeting you, sharing in the trials of your joint mission, has been a rare pleasure. Your presence, marked by spirited banter and unwavering determination, injected vitality into the often grim landscape of their pursuits. Despite the looming risks and the gravity of his objectives, he couldn't help but relish the moments spent in your company.

As he extends his farewell, he acknowledges the uncertainty of future encounters. Though he harbors a wish for another meeting, circumstances dictate otherwise. Your captivating insights and spirited exchanges will be dearly missed, yet he remains resolute in his chosen course, prepared to confront the perils ahead, come what may.

"Well, thank you for your answers. Anyway, I brought you here to let you know that our meeting has reached its conclusion. You've fulfilled your role as my eyes and ears, and now you're free to go about your business," Aventurine stated, slipping back into his old mask—his facade.

You blinked a few times, absorbing his words. Finally, this chapter was over.

"Is that so? I'm finally free," you sighed in relief, stretching your arms with a smile. "Being around you was quite draining."

"It seems I've been a handful, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. You're insufferable. So, you're ready to part ways then?"

"I do tend to be insufferable, I won't deny that. And to answer your question, yes I am. Thanks to your intel, my plans are set. You've proven quite reliable, considering you're a wanderer."

"Well, being a wanderer does have its advantages. I can gather information without raising suspicion since I blend in with the crowd," you remarked, nonchalantly shrugging.

"You do seem rather ordinary, so you blend well.."

"Excuse me?"

As you leveled a sharp glance at Aventurine, expecting defiance or retort, you were instead met with a sight that stirred a strange sensation within you. His countenance, usually guarded and conniving, softened into an expression of genuine warmth. His eyes, usually veiled with caution, now held an openness that caught you off guard. It was as though a veil had been lifted, revealing a side of him you had never seen before.

His words, spoken with a sincerity that resonated in the air. "How I'd love to be one. To be ordinary," he uttered, his voice carrying a weight of longing and acceptance.

You found yourself speechless, unable to respond to the exposure he laid bare before you. Despite the complexities of his past and the challenges he faced as an Avgin working under the IPC, his desire for normalcy spoke volumes about the inner turmoil he grappled with.

Your own internal conflict is mirrored in the clenching of your jaw, rendering you unable to articulate a response. Yet, amidst the silence, a silent understanding seemed to bridge the gap between you. Aventurine's earnest gaze conveyed more than words ever could, laying bare the vulnerabilities he harbored beneath his mask..

Driven by an impulse you couldn't quite comprehend, you took a step closer to him, closing the distance between you. With a gentle touch, you extended your fingers and playfully poked his forehead, eliciting a look of surprise and astonishment from him. But what followed was even more unexpected—an expression of genuine tenderness gracing your own features, a smile that reached the depths of your soul and offered solace in its warmth. In that fleeting moment, barriers fell away, and you realized that beneath the surface, you and Aventurine were not so different after all.

"You know, if you really wanted to, you could just blend in and be ordinary like everyone else," you murmured gently, finally tearing your gaze away from him. Aventurine, startled, snapped out of his trance.

"Oh, is that right?" Aventurine chuckled.

"Yeah, it's an option," you replied nonchalantly. "Anyway, I should get going."

"So soon?" Aventurine turned to you, surprised.

"Yeah, got some other stuff to take care of, and my debt to you is settled," you explained.

"You wound me," Aventurine feigned hurt, gesturing dramatically. "Our last day together, and you're leaving so soon?"

"You're not seriously trying to guilt-trip me into staying, are you?" you teased.

Aventurine smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Alright then," you said, increasing the distance between you two as you walked away. Glancing back over your shoulder, you smirked. "Once you're done with your mission, let's meet here again."

"What?" Aventurine was taken aback, still processing your words as he watched you walk away. You stopped, meeting his gaze.

"Didn't catch that? I said, let's meet again after your mission.” you said firmly, facing away from him as you delivered your final words, arm raised in farewell.

“All you need to do is survive.”

As Aventurine watched you depart, his mind swirled with contrasting emotions. Your parting words lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the connection he feared he might never experience again. Despite the gravity of the situation, he remained silent, resigned to the path he had chosen, knowing that his decision to face his final gamble in Penacony was irreversible.

In the depths of his thoughts, a sense of acceptance settled within him. He chuckled softly, a wistful acknowledgment of the irony of his predicament. The weight of his impending fate bore down on him, yet a flicker of defiance burned within his soul.

With a shake of his head, he banished the doubts that threatened to cloud his resolve. This was his moment, his grand finale, and he would meet it head-on, whatever the outcome. As he stepped forward into the yawning chasm of uncertainty, he braced himself for the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that his ultimate gamble would redefine everything.

Survival or death—there was no middle ground. And as he prepared to face the unknown, Aventurine steeled himself for the ultimate test of his mettle.

Let’s meet again, (Name).

Aventurine's eyelids flutter open, a groan escaping his lips as he gradually regains consciousness. The world swims into focus, the familiar surroundings of his hotel room greeting him with muted hues and soft shadows. Yet, despite the comfort of familiarity, a dull ache permeates every fiber of his being, a lingering reminder of the ordeal he endured in the depths of his subconscious.

As he gingerly shifts his weight, Aventurine feels the weight of exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket, each movement a testament to the toll exacted by his nightmarish journey. It's as if his very essence has been drained, leaving behind a shell of his former self, battered and bruised by the trials of his own mind.

With trembling fingers, he reaches out, tracing the contours of his hand as if searching for reassurance in the solidity of his own flesh. It's a small gesture, but one imbued with profound significance—a tangible reminder of his resilience in the face of adversity, a testament to his survival against all odds.

As the realization of his newfound freedom dawns upon him, Aventurine can't help but feel a surge of disbelief coursing through his veins. To think that he has emerged from the depths of despair, liberated from the shackles of his past, is nothing short of miraculous. With his ties to the IPC severed, he stands at a crossroads, poised on the precipice of uncertainty, yet emboldened by the promise of possibility.

But amidst the uncertainty, one thing remains clear—Aventurine is free. Free to chart his own course, to forge his own destiny without the constraints of fate or expectation weighing him down. And though the path ahead may be fraught with challenges and unknown dangers, he faces it with a newfound sense of determination, ready to embrace whatever the future may hold.

Aventurine's body protests as he pushes himself upright, the sharp pang of pain shooting through him like lightning. Yet, despite the discomfort, he manages to muster the strength to survey his surroundings, his gaze landing on the figure nestled on the sofa. At first, his mind struggles to comprehend the sight before him—a flicker of disbelief mingled with a hint of incredulity.

But as recognition dawns upon him, Aventurine's eyes widen in astonishment, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes that it's you who occupies the space in his room. The realization sends a surge of diverging emotions coursing through him, a mixture of surprise, confusion, and a strange sense of comfort.

He watches you in silent wonder, your form bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, your features serene in the embrace of slumber. It's a sight that both perplexes and soothes him.

Aventurine's mind races with questions, each one vying for his attention as he grapples with the inexplicable presence of your presence in his room. Did you wait for him? Why are you here? And most importantly, why him? The answers elude him, shrouded in a veil of uncertainty that only serves to deepen the mystery surrounding your unexpected reunion.

Despite the barrage of inquiries swirling in his mind, Aventurine finds himself unable to suppress the tender smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. In this moment of exposure, your presence serves as an anchor of solace, a comforting reminder that he is not alone in this vast and unforgiving universe.

Nevertheless, Aventurine expressed gratitude towards you. Despite your indifferent demeanor towards him and your aversion to getting involved in troublesome situations, you found yourself in his room, patiently awaiting his return, even though the odds of survival were slim.

Aventurine watches as you stir from your slumber, your movements hesitant yet purposeful as you rise from the sofa and approach him with a sense of urgency. His heart quickens at the sight of you, a mixture of relief and apprehension coursing through him as your eyes meet in the dimly lit room.

Your sudden appearance catches him off guard, the lines of fatigue etched into your features a stark contrast to the serene calmness of your slumber. But, despite the weariness that hangs heavy in the air, there is a palpable sense of anticipation, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that binds you together.

As you draw nearer, Aventurine's breath catches in his throat, his gaze fixated on your every movement as if trying to decipher the thoughts racing through your mind. He waits with bated breath for you to speak, but the silence stretches on, punctuated only by the soft sound of your footsteps echoing in the room.

Unable to bear the quiet any longer, Aventurine breaks the tension with a gentle smile, his voice soft yet filled with warmth. "I didn't expect to see you here," he murmurs, his words hanging in the air like a delicate thread connecting them in the darkness.

You remain silent, your expression unreadable as you stand before him, your eyes searching his face for answers that remain elusive. Aventurine's smile falters slightly at the lack of response, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his features as he waits for you to break the silence that hangs heavy between them.

"Are we just going to have a staring contest?" he jests, prompting a weary sigh from you.

"You're finally awake," your voice was calm but tinged with concern. "How are you feeling?"

Aventurine blinked. "Like my entire body's cramped up, and my head's splitting in two. So, basically, like crap."

"That's because you've been out for weeks. You need to rest."

"Do I really have to when I've basically been sleeping for the whole duration of my coma?" he scoffed, earning another sigh from you.

"What I meant was rest like a normal person. Sleep in a proper bed, not in this decrepit bathtub. It's different when you're not in the Dreamscape," you explained matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes. Aventurine chuckled at your bluntness.

"Are you worried?" he asked.

"No," you replied flatly.

"Really? Then why are you here in my room, sleeping like a log?" he teased, and you grimaced at him.

"I'm only here to keep my word."

"Your word?" His eyebrow arched in confusion.

"When I said we'd meet again."

Aventurine's laughter rings out, breaking the weighty silence that had settled between you like a heavy fog. It's a sound filled with incredulity and a touch of irony, a reflection of the tumultuous emotions swirling within him as he grapples with the gravity of the situation.

For him, the realization is nothing short of staggering—that you, of all people, had placed your trust in him, believing in his ability to survive against all odds. It's a notion that borders on the absurd, given the precarious circumstances that had surrounded your parting, but one that now takes on a profound significance in the wake of your unexpected reunion.

As your gaze locks with his, drawn by the unexpected sound of his laughter, Aventurine finds himself at a loss for words. How could he have ever doubted the sincerity of your intentions, the faith you had placed in him even when all hope seemed lost?

"What's so funny?" you asked, puzzled by Aventurine's sudden burst of laughter.

Aventurine's laughter subsided, and he regarded you seriously. "I never expected this. You always manage to surprise me. Are you that determined to ensure our next meeting?"

Your expression twisted in disgust at the thought, which only served to fuel Aventurine's amusement. He laughed even harder at your reaction.

"It seems you're back to your usual self now," you remarked between laughs. "Well then, I suppose I'll be on my way."

But just as you turned to leave, Aventurine caught your wrist, halting your steps. "Oops! Just kidding. You really don't have much of a sense of humor, do you?"

You shot him a glare in response, but he seemed unfazed, his gaze softening as he spoke with a newfound seriousness. His words carried a weight that belied their simplicity.

"You know, I want to become a wave and run anywhere," he confessed, his voice tinged with a wistful longing. "Because even if I get swept away and get lost, I'm free."

There was a vulnerability in his words, a raw honesty that laid bare his innermost desires. It was a sentiment that resonated with you on some level, stirring something deep within your own heart.

"Even if you get lost again," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "you still will know your way back. You know it yourself, after all, you're still breathing up until now."

Aventurine's gaze softened, his eyes searching yours with a depth of understanding that took you by surprise. And then, almost coyly, he made a request that seemed to hang in the air between you like an unspoken promise.

"Could you stay here a little longer?" he implored, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that debunk his usual confidence.

Aventurine's touch on your wrist sent a shiver down your spine, his thumb tracing a delicate path that seemed to awaken a flurry of sensations within you. Despite your initial instinct to recoil from his unexpected gesture, you found yourself captivated by the gentle caress, unable to tear your gaze away from the intensity of his eyes.

As you met his hypnotic gaze head-on, you couldn't help but acknowledge the sheer beauty that radiated from within those mesmerizing orbs. Up close, Aventurine's eyes were a breathtaking kaleidoscope of colors, each hue dancing in the light like shards of precious gemstones. It was a sight to behold, one that left you momentarily spellbound by its sheer magnificence.

"What? Why do you want me to stay?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of confusion.

For a moment, Aventurine remained silent, his gaze never wavering from yours as if searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. And then, with a quiet sincerity that took you by surprise, he spoke.

"Have you already forgotten?" he responded, his voice a soft murmur that seemed to envelop the space between you. "You were the one who encouraged me to speak my mind, weren’t you? I simply followed your advice. But truthfully... It's because I desire your company. It's strangely... comforting."

You sighed, feeling the tension in your shoulders dissipate as you contemplated his request. "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to indulge your request occasionally," you relented, a subtle smile playing at the edges of your lips. "I'll grant you some leeway, considering you appear to be like a patient in bed."

Aventurine's laughter filled the room once more, a melodious sound that seemed to echo with a sense of amusement.

"How lucky I am," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he savored the moment. It was as though he reveled in the serendipity of your encounter, finding solace in the unexpected connection that had brought you two together.

As the laughter subsided, he couldn't help but be curious about the circumstances that had led you to his room.

"So, how did you get in my room?"

Your expression turned thoughtful for a moment, as if pondering how best to explain. "Oh, I met this Doctor called Veritas Ratio.”

As Aventurine chuckled at the absurdity of it all, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twists and turns that had led you to this ending scene, here and now, with you by Aventurine’s side.

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