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jungkoode · 2 months ago

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OFF-LABELS

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Mature, 18+, suggestive tones.

→ DATE POSTED: January 30, 2025.

→ NARRATED AUDIO:

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: plausible deniability king hoseok, subtext, dropping slight innuendo with that voice, gentle teasing, double meaning, sexual tension

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

→ A/N: So. Listen. I was out there, freezing my ass off at the bus stop, cursing my life choices because why am I even going to the gym at ungodly hours??? And then—THEN—the bus just had the audacity to drive right past me. Love that. Amazing. Naturally, I did what any rational person would do: opened my notes app and started writing instead of using those 45 minutes to, idk, reconsider my entire existence. And thus, Off-Labels was born. This drabble? It’s about the kind of man who is dangerous in the most insidious way—intelligent, competent, and hiding behind a veneer of plausible deniability like it’s a damn art form. You know he knows what he’s doing to you. You know he’s aware of the effect he has. But can you prove it? No. Because he’s just so nice. So helpful. So unintentionally devastating to your nervous system. It’s honestly sick and twisted and exactly my type. Am I a menace? Absolutely. First installment in what might become a series because apparently I can't stop writing about competent men in medical settings using anatomical terms as foreplay. Will I be taking criticism? Absolutely not. ❤️‍🩹🩺

→ MINI SERIES: NEXT

PLAYLIST

You don’t believe in stories like in books.

Sure, you like to read them—disappear into them, let them pull you under like a riptide until you forget about deadlines and midterms and the existential dread of being a twenty-something who still doesn’t know what they’re doing.

But that’s all they are.

Stories.

Fantasies about tragic, fated loves and brooding billionaires and dangerous men with wings. You like them because they’re not real. Because it’s fun to pretend, for a little while, that you’re the kind of girl who’s got a winged fae warrior at her feet. Or a CEO husband who calls her darling in an office with floor-to-ceiling windows. Or—God forbid—her hot math teacher, who lets her stay after class for extra lessons.

Or your brother’s best friend’s secret hookup.

Not that you’re thinking about that one.

Not that it would even be your case.

You shift on the couch, burying yourself deeper into the cocoon of your brother’s old hoodie. It’s massive on you, the sleeves swallowing your hands, the faded fabric smelling like dust and detergent.

Perfect. The ideal uniform for an evening of doing absolutely nothing.

Your e-reader is dead, so you’ve resorted to flipping through some random paperback you found wedged under the coffee table, something with an aggressively shirtless man on the cover. You’re only half-paying attention, your eyes skimming over the words without really absorbing them.

Caleb should be home soon. Probably. He has class—or he says he has class, but you’re not entirely convinced. He’s in that phase of university where it’s mostly networking and group projects and going out more than actually studying.

Not that you care. He does his thing, you do yours.

A sharp knock at the door pulls you out of your haze.

You ignore it. Caleb has keys. If he forgot them, that’s his problem.

The knock comes again. Then the doorbell rings.

You groan, untangling yourself from the blanket and shuffling toward the door with all the grace of a sleep-deprived goblin. Your hair is a mess, your socks don’t match, and you’re fairly certain you have crumbs on your face from earlier. Good. Whoever’s on the other side can suffer.

Except—

It’s not Caleb.

It’s Hoseok.

Oh.

You freeze, hand still gripping the doorknob, brain buffering at the sight of him standing there, all easy confidence and warm eyes and—why does he always look so put together? It’s unfair. He’s in jeans and a hoodie, nothing special, but it fits him just right, and his hair is slightly tousled, like he just ran a hand through it, and—

Stop.

You force yourself to blink, to breathe, to act like a normal human person.

“Uh,” you say, which is a stellar start.

Hoseok smiles. “Hey.”

He has the kind of voice that makes people listen, rich and smooth, the kind that carries even when he’s speaking softly. Which he is now, like he knows you spook easily.

“Caleb’s not here,” you blurt out.

He tilts his head, amused. “Yeah, I figured.”

Right. Obviously. Because if Caleb were here, he’d be the one answering the door.

You scramble for something else to say, but your brain is blank, completely derailed by the fact that he’s here. In your doorway. Looking at you. And you must look insane—your hair sticking up in weird directions, drowning in a hoodie that is definitely not yours.

And he’s still smiling. Patient. Like he has all the time in the world.

You clear your throat, gripping the edge of the door. “Um. Did you—need something?”

Hoseok shifts, rocking back on his heels. “I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by, see if Caleb was around.” A pause. “And you, too.”

Your brain does an emergency reboot.

You, too.

You swallow. “Oh. Right. Cool. That’s—cool.”

His smile twitches, like he’s holding back a laugh.

You want to throw yourself into traffic.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, ever-polite, ever-easygoing.

You should say no. Caleb’s not here, and even though Hoseok is Caleb’s best friend—and a genuinely nice person, thoughtful and reliable and the kind of guy who remembers your favorite coffee order—something about being alone with him makes your stomach twist.

But saying no would be weird.

So you step back. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

He steps inside, and suddenly the room feels smaller. Or maybe you’re just too aware of him—his presence, the faint scent of clean laundry and something warmer, something mellow. He’s always been like this, always drawn your attention whether you wanted him to or not.

You watch as he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair like he’s been here a hundred times before. And he has, technically, but not like this. Not without Caleb.

Hoseok glances at the book on the coffee table. “Good?”

You stare at it, momentarily forgetting what book it even is. “Uh. Yeah.”

His eyes flick to the cover. His smile turns amused.

Heat floods your face.

"Interesting choice.”

You freeze. A slow, creeping horror slithers up your spine. Because you didn’t even look at the book before picking it up—you just grabbed whatever you had lying around, assuming it was something boring, something safe—

And now Hoseok is holding a novel titled My Professor’s Secret Temptation.

Oh.

Oh, you actually might be sick.

You scramble for something—anything—to say, but the words wedge themselves somewhere between your throat and your rapidly spiraling embarrassment.

Hoseok flips the book over, scanning the back cover with a curious hum. “Didn’t take you for the forbidden romance type.”

You want the ground to open up. You want to disintegrate.

“I—I didn’t even read it!” you blurt out, a little too fast, a little too desperate. “I wasn’t paying attention, I just grabbed something random, and—and it’s not—”

Hoseok glances at you, amused but not in a mean way, just…interested? "Oh, yeah?”

You nod. Aggressively. “Yes.”

His mouth presses into something thoughtful, like he believes you, but there’s still a flicker of amusement in his expression, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with this new information.

“Huh.” He flips through a few pages idly, head tilting. “He’s pretty bold, huh?”

Your stomach drops. “Who?”

“The professor.”

Your soul leaves your body.

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing, incapable of forming a coherent thought.

Hoseok just nods, easy, unbothered. “Some of these lines are intense,” he muses, flipping another page. “Do real professors talk like this?”

You are going to die. Right here. On the floor.

“I—” Your voice cracks. “I don’t know.”

He hums again, like he’s genuinely considering it, then—just as casually as everything else—he looks up and says, “You think he’s hot?”

Your heart stops.

Not in a teasing way. Not in a mean way. Just…like it’s a normal question. Like this is just an easy, natural conversation between two people who absolutely do not need to be having this conversation.

Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

Hoseok’s lips twitch, but it’s not a smirk, not a knowing smile—just quiet amusement, like this whole situation is genuinely kind of funny, and he doesn’t think it’s a big deal at all.

“Relax,” he says, closing the book with a soft thump. “I won’t tell Caleb.”

It’s so casual. So reassuring.

Like he really, really isn’t trying to mess with you.

Which somehow makes it worse.

Hoseok sets the book down with deliberate care, spine aligned parallel to the edge of the coffee table like he’s arranging museum artifacts. Your traitorous eyes track the flex of tendons in his wrist—medical resident hands, steady and precise, the kind that’ve probably held beating hearts in ORs. You bite the inside of your cheek until copper blooms.

He glances at the sofa.

You glance at the sofa.

Three cushions. Two throw pillows. Seventy-two inches of fabric that suddenly feels like the Grand Canyon between acceptable and catastrophic.

“Mind if I…?” He gestures to the spot beside your abandoned blanket nest, already moving before you nod.

The springs creak faintly as he sinks into the middle cushion, thighs spreading in that effortless way men do—knees wide, elbows propped, phone balanced on his lap. You sit next to him—two cushions away—and watch his thumb scroll through messages, the screen’s blue light catching the silver ring he always wears on his index finger. Surgical steel, he’d told you once when you’d asked. Sterile. Practical.

Practical.

Practical like the way his left knee now brushes the edge of your blanket. Practical like the faint cedar-and-disinfectant scent of his cologne. Practical like the half-inch of skin exposed when his hoodie rides up as he stretches his arms behind his head.

Don’t look.

You look.

Stop looking.

He shifts, a subtle roll of his hips that has no business being this distracting. The movement pulls the denim taut across his thighs, and you try—really, genuinely try—to keep your eyes anywhere else. The ceiling. The floor. The stack of medical textbooks by the TV. Anything but the way his thumb now absently traces the inner seam of his jeans.

“Told Caleb I’d wait,” he says, tilting his head toward you. The motion makes his throat work—Adam’s apple bobbing, chin catching gold in the lamplight. “Movie night. You’re welcome to join, if you want.”

Your tongue feels like it’s been replaced with felt. “I—I have… readings.”

“Readings.” His mouth shapes the word like it’s fascinating.

“For… neuroanatomy.” You gesture vaguely toward your backpack slumped by the TV stand, half-buried under a sweatshirt you’ve been using as a pillow. “Midterm next week.”

He hums, low and considering. “Limbic system?”

“Hippocampus. Amygdala. All the… emotional bits.”

“Ah.” His smile softens, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “The parts that make you want to throw textbooks at walls.”

You blink. “You… remember?”

“Your first-year meltdown over the cranial nerves? Yeah.” He chuckles, warm and rasping. “You called them ‘twelve little traitors’ and threatened to switch to art history.”

Heat crawls up your neck. You’d forgotten he’d been there that night—Caleb dragging him along for a pizza run, finding you knee-deep in flashcards and tears. Hoseok had quietly made tea while Caleb joked about selling your cadaver lab notes on eBay.

“Still think about it sometimes,” you mutter, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “Art history sounds peaceful. No one dies in art history.”

“No,” he agrees. “But you’d miss this.”

“Miss what? The sleep deprivation? The existential dread?”

“The way your nose scrunches when you’re trying to memorize Brodmann areas.”

Your hands freeze.

He’s looking at you now—not the performative eye contact of someone making conversation, but the kind that pins you in place. Clinical. Observant. Like he’s cataloging your reaction.

“I don’t… scrunch,” you say weakly.

“You do.” His knee nudges the blanket again. Accidentally. Probably. “It’s cute.”

The air conditioner kicks on. You count the vents in the ceiling. Eight. Eight is a safe number. Eight is not the number of times you’ve imagined him saying that word in different contexts.

Cute.

Your lungs forget how to oxygenate.

Hoseok’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, then sighs. “Caleb’s running late. Some study group thing.”

“Oh.”

“You hungry?”

“What?”

He’s already standing, rolling his shoulders in a stretch that pulls his hoodie taut across his chest. “I’ll make ramyeon. You like the kimchi kind, right?”

You stare.

He’s in your kitchen now, rummaging through cabinets with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times. Which he has—game nights, birthday parties, that one time Caleb got food poisoning and Hoseok stayed over to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.

But this is different.

This is him pulling two bowls from the shelf you can’t reach without a step stool. This is him filling the kettle with exactly 500ml of water because he knows your stove runs hot. This is him glancing over his shoulder to ask, “Soft or firm noodles?” like it’s a question that matters.

“Soft,” you croak.

He nods, turning back to the counter. You watch his hands—capable, unhurried—tearing seasoning packets with his teeth. The steam fogs his glasses when he leans over the pot, and he pushes them up into his hair, revealing the faint scar bisecting his left eyebrow.

Bike accident, he’d said when you’d asked. Twelve years old. Thought he could jump the curb like X-Games.

You’d dreamed about that scar for weeks afterward.

“Here.” He sets the bowl in front of you, chopsticks balanced across the rim. “Careful, it’s hot.”

You murmur thanks, staring at the swirling red broth. He sits closer this time—one cushion away instead of two. His knee brushes yours when he leans forward to blow on his noodles.

Accident, you tell yourself. Always accidents.

The TV murmurs in the background, some nature documentary about deep-sea creatures. Hoseok asks about your classes, and you answer in staccato sentences, hyper-aware of the way his sleeve brushes your arm when he reaches for the water glass.

“—and Dr. Park’s lectures are killing me,” you hear yourself say, chopsticks hovering over uneaten noodles. “She goes so fast, and the diagrams…”

“Want me to quiz you?”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

He shrugs, but there’s a glint in his eye—the same one he gets when Caleb challenges him to Mario Kart. “I handled multiple neuro cases last year. Could walk you through the basal ganglia.”

“You’re… busy.”

“Not really.” He sets his bowl aside, rolling up his sleeves. Your pulse thrums at the reveal of his forearms—dusting of dark hair, veins mapping paths you shouldn’t be tracing. “C’mon. Hit me with your worst.”

It’s a mistake.

You know it’s a mistake even as you fetch your notes, even as he pats the space beside him. Even as his shoulder presses against yours, radiating heat through three layers of fabric.

“Okay.” He scans your color-coded flashcards. “First question. What structure connects the hippocampus to the mammillary bodies?”

“F-fornix,” you stammer.

“Good.” His finger taps the next card. “Main neurotransmitter in the substantia nigra?”

“Dopamine.”

“And loss of dopamine here causes…”

“Parkinson’s.”

“Nice.” He shifts, knee pressing into yours. “Now point to your amygdala.”

You freeze. “What?”

“On your head. Show me where it is.”

“I—it’s—it’s medial temporal lobe, so…” You hover a hand near your right temple, acutely aware of his gaze tracking the movement. “Here? Ish?”

His chuckle vibrates through the couch. “Ish.”

“Shut up, I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

You glare at him. He grins back, all white teeth and crinkled eyes, and something in your chest cracks open.

“Medial,” he says softly, reaching over to adjust your hand. His fingers graze your wrist—brief, clinical, devastating. “Deeper. Protected.”

You stop breathing.

The documentary narrator drones on about bioluminescent jellyfish. Hoseok’s thumb brushes your pulse point.

Accident.

Always accidents.

Then his phone rings.

You jerk back like you’ve been shocked. Hoseok answers with a calm, “Yeah?” while you stare at your knees, pretending your entire nervous system isn’t short-circuiting.

“Caleb’s downstairs,” he says, standing. “Forgot his keys again.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

He pauses, head tilted. For a horrifying moment, you think he’ll call you out—on the shaking hands, the flushed cheeks, the way you’re clinging to a pillow like it’s a life raft.

But he just smiles. Gentle. Endless. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

You collapse sideways onto the couch, pressing your face into the cushion that still holds the warmth of him. Somewhere in the hallway, the elevator dings. Laughter floats up from the parking lot.

Four years.

Four years of this.

Four years of almosts and maybes and don’t be stupid, he’s just being nice.

Your phone buzzes. A text from Caleb:

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐?? 𝙽𝚎𝚛𝚍. 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊. 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎?

You type no with trembling fingers.

The couch creaks as you curl into yourself, knees to chest, forehead pressed against the spot where his ring had left a faint indentation in the upholstery.

Deeper.

Protected.

Somewhere in your medial temporal lobe, dopamine fires for all the wrong reasons.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 6 months ago

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Epilogue: True Love Is Hard To Find

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is the epilogue of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series.

Word Count: 12.2K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. Vomiting, Dark/Depressing thoughts, Heartbreak, FLUFF, FLUFF, and oh did I mention FLUFF, Sexual innuendo, Self-deprecating thoughts, Drinking, Cursing, Some references to past trauma, References to past sex, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Song lyrics are bold, italics, and are in red. The lyrics come from "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love," by Russ Colombo (can be found at the link). This is the song I based the series on and it really is wonderful to listen to.

A/N: Well guys, we made it. Just remember that this isn't goodbye, it's I'll see you in a little while.

Five Months Later…

"Is it time to go yet?" Ben murmurs into your ear, his breath rustling against the hair he tucked carefully behind it moments ago, his hand pressing into the small of your back.

The sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and small chatter ebb and flow over the crowded art gallery, the white walls a subtle backdrop to the colorfully dressed people, waiters, and the canvases that hang on the walls.

Women in elegant dresses stand at different sized paintings while men dressed in casual suits and ties stand beside them in stoic contemplation, their eyes following the gentle brushstrokes that cover the canvases hanging in succession against the bland backdrop.

Waiters dressed in simple suits with silver trays of food and pastries weave through the crowded room, offering treats to whomever they stop by, while a bartender sits at a large wooden bar designed to fit into the venue serving drinks to patrons and pouring multicolored liquids into glasses.

It had been five months since Ben came back, five months since you said goodbye to Homelander, and five of the happiest months of your life.

The first month following Ben's return, you had taken him to the house in Maine, figured that you both could use a vacation and spent your days sunning on the beach together and curled up in bed making up for the time that you lost when Ben was gone. You weren't complaining, not when every day you felt the same way as when you'd woken up the day after your birthday, not when each time Ben kissed you felt like the first time, and not when every time he touched you it felt like you were filled with sunlight. You felt warmer, lighter, happier, and being with him was even more wonderful than you remember.

Every day was fused with wonder and expectation and every night Ben made you feel more loved than you ever had. You were so blissfully happy that you had forgotten the past and were excited for what the future would hold for the two of you.

Lou, Rosemary, and Ryan had come after a few weeks to spend time with Ben and you at the house. Lou was ecstatic that Ben was staying in your lives and spent every moment with him on the beach having him help her make sandcastles and look for shells and shiny rocks that were rubbed smooth by the waves.

Rosemary was still icy towards Ben, but you knew that she was starting to get used to him being around. All you hoped was that one day she would warm up to him, but it was a little less awkward between the two of them. She was at least calling him by his name and she could stand to be in the same room as him. When Ben read the paper in the mornings at the breakfast table off of the large kitchen at the house, Rosemary drank her coffee quietly and read through a paperback, you painted in your watercolor pad absentmindedly, and Lou tried her best to copy you all the while making small talk with Ryan who sat beside her.

Ryan was living in the spare room in Rosemary's apartment and despite being corrected, Lou referred to Ryan as her older brother every chance she got, something that always made Ryan brush bright red. At first Rosemary and you had been wary about bringing in a blossoming teenager in to her home, not to mention a blossoming teenager that had the ability to level a small building if he wanted to, but Ryan seemed to like living there and he didn't cause any unnecessary trouble. Butcher came by every week to take Ryan out of the apartment to give Rosemary a break and Ryan was always happy to go with him.

That was something you weren't sure about. Yes, you liked that Butcher had such a big influence in Ryan's life, but you didn't like how often he came by. You weren't sure you trusted him with what he knew about Lou's powers that only seemed to grow by the day since their development. Every time Lou watched something with a supe in it she started exhibiting a new ability, but she seemed to be able to turn them on and off at will.

Which was good. She also seemed to understand the idea that it wasn't good to show them in public. There were a few slip ups, for example when Ben and you took Lou for ice cream one day. she got so excited when she received the cone that she started levitating a few inches off the ground and another time she threw a temper tantrum at the grocery store and stomped her foot so aggressively against the ground that the entire building shook.

The looks she got when she did both of those things were the same looks you got when Lou called Ben and you "grandpa" and "grandma" in public.

But she was doing better and with Rosemary's ability to touch Lou and get the power Lou was exhibiting, Rosemary had been able to show Lou how to control some of the abilities better than others.

Ryan also helped. He was old enough to babysit Lou when there was no one else, comforting because now that Lou had powers you didn’t trust anyone else to be around her and didn't trust that Vought had forgotten. Ryan was just starting school, a school just a few blocks from Rosemary’s apartment where he could feel like a real kid, and was already struggling through math. When he asked Ben for help Ben had replied that Ryan didn’t need it and the only thing Ryan should focus on was sports.

Ben was no longer allowed to offer Ryan education advice and Butcher and you both tried your best to help Ryan with math instead. You’d also told Ryan not to listen to someone who got kicked out of every boarding school he ever went to, which only made Ben smack you on the ass and say "it takes one to know one" while Rosemary mimed vomiting in the kitchen.

You had asked Rosemary if she wanted to get a new apartment, big enough for everyone so you could be around 24/7 to help her, but she’d complained and said that she was too old to be living with her parents.

She was right, but you still tried your best to be around to give her a break whenever she needed one.

Of course it wasn’t all good in those five months.

Rosemary quit her job at the hospital after everything happened with Homelander and didn’t tell you that she’d gotten a new one working with Butcher on his team. When you’d confronted her about it she’d told you that it wasn’t a big deal, but to you it was. You had spent the past 40 years of Rosemary’s life keeping all the supe shit separate, but now she was diving in head first. You’d had a fight, a bad one, one of the worst the two of you had ever had and you’d spent three days in bed crying to Ben who held you tight and didn’t let you go. When Rosemary had finally showed up three days later, her own eyes red and rimmed with dark circles beneath you knew she was just as upset as you were. And then she told you why she did it.

It wasn’t because of Butcher, it was because of Homelander.

Rosemary was guilty, frustrated with herself because she had been unable to keep Lou safe from him. Rosemary said that she felt like she had been hiding her entire life, turning her back on a piece of herself, and that she needed to do this. She felt like a failure, worthless, and that she needed to embrace who she really was. So you tried to be supportive all the while contemplating if you should follow her on missions to make sure that she was okay.

But that seemed a little obsessive so you held yourself back.

It was going well and honestly, Rosemary seemed happy. Not to mention Butcher liked having her around for medical assistance if there was a problem in the field.

Ben was working for Butcher too, something else you also didn't agree with, but at least now you didn't have to worry about Rosemary as much. You knew that Ben wouldn't let anything happen to her, but you also didn't love that you now had both of them to worry about. Sometimes you thought about working for Butcher too, but after everything that happened with Homelander, Stan, Noir, and your old team, you were happy to immerse yourself in your art again, to dive in to your creativity and let it wash away any of your worries and pain that rose in the aftermath of the everything that had happened five months ago.

You'd told Ben that he didn't have to work, told him that the both of you had more than enough money for a few centuries, but for Ben it was bigger than that. He wanted to work, thought that it was his job to provide for the both of you, his job to take care of you, and you didn’t want to argue with him about that. It was difficult to say no to him, not when he was just as happy as you were, and not when he was giving you everything you said you wanted all those years ago the night you saved Noir. He had given you a home, someone who loves you, and someone to come home to and it was more wonderful than you could have ever imagined. He gave you everything he promised and more.

Sometimes when you were together, he'd get a look on his face like he had no idea how it happened, and you weren't too sure either, but you were so happy that you didn't care. The things you'd daydreamed about all those years ago, of Ben and you living together and being in love dulled in comparison to the real thing. You'd never seen Ben smile as much as you had in the past five months, never seen him so full of life and happiness in all the years you'd known him, and you wanted him to be that way every day for the rest of his life.

And you had never been as inspired to paint as you were now, hence the art show Ben and you were currently attending.

Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan were taking it easy for the evening and you didn’t blame them. Rosemary had just come back from an overnight trip with Butcher's team from somewhere in the South and stated she needed to relax. You’d graciously offered to take Ryan and Lou with you, but she’d waved you off. Said that it was alright and that Ben and you should enjoy yourselves.

You think that working together also helped Ben and Rosemary get more comfortable interacting, but there was still some tension that you hoped would fade in the coming years. It was better than it had been. You were also worried about them working with Butcher's team because of what you'd done to them at Vought, but so far there didn't seem to be a problem. In fact, Rosemary and Annie were becoming friends, which made you happy because Rosemary had friends, but none who she could be one hundred percent honest with about who you were and the powers she had. With Annie, Rosemary didn't have to pretend.

Grace Mallory called every week to check in and keep you updated on Homelander's progress. He was still the same as he had been five months ago, but she was getting a new doctor to come take a look at him, someone who was well versed in memory loss and you hoped he was able to figure it out. Not that you really wanted old Homelander to come back, but because you didn't know where to go from here. You knew that if Homelander ever got out, the first thing he would do was find Compound V, and then come after your family. But it still felt weird to kill someone who didn't remember the things they had done.

Sometimes you wished that it could have been different, but if this was how it always ended up you wouldn't change a thing, because it meant that you might not be here with Ben.

You smile up at Ben, adjusting his dark tie with a steady hand and smoothing out the collar of his black suit. "We've been here for twenty minutes. And it was you that wanted to come to my show."

Ben grins. "Maybe I just wanted to see you all dressed up sweetheart. Have I told you how beautiful you look?"

He had, several times before you left your apartment. Not to mention you'd walked out of the bedroom and into the living room Ben had all but tackled you onto the couch and made the both of you late because you had to redo your makeup.

Your dress was maroon, backless, and had capped sleeves that fell off your shoulders to curve just over your biceps. It was cinched at the waist and fell elegantly to your feet that were encased in a pair of black heels that made you almost tall enough to reach Ben's shoulders. There was a new necklace hanging around your neck, one that Ben had gotten you for your one month anniversary. It was a kite cut emerald about the size of the end of your pinky. You still had the pearl necklace that Noir had stolen from you, but now when you looked at it, you felt sad and didn't remember your father. Not to mention the pearl necklace that Ben gave you as a replacement was still in pieces from the night that you both wanted to forget.

So he'd gotten you this one and you loved it, because it reminded you of Ben's beautiful eyes, the same ones that were focused on you right now, shining in the light of the gallery.

Ben looked better than you did, then again you always thought he did. He was wearing a sharp black suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. Every time you looked at him you couldn't believe he was all yours. You wondered if he felt that way whenever he looked at you.

"I can't leave early, it’s my party remember? It would be rude to-"

He leans in again, his hand tightening on your waist. "I'd much rather take you home and congratulate you myself."

Ben doesn't miss the shiver that travels down your spine with his words, eyes shifting to the goosebumps that erupt on your arms. "Come on doll, I could go get the car right now." He purrs pressing a kiss just under your left ear, feeling your resolve begin to waver, which was already hanging by a thread. Ben never needed to do much to persuade you, but you noticed that when it came to you Ben also had a hard time saying no. And you loved how easily you worked him.

“Didn’t you congratulate me before we left?” You murmur kissing along his sharp jaw. “And this morning?” You drag your hands up his chest feeling a low groan vibrate through his rib cage. “And last night?”

“Are you complaining doll?” His eyes glint mischievously, smirk pulling at the end of his lips.

“No. Because I happen to like congratulating you too.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to congratulate you.” Ben nudges his nose against yours, before fitting his soft lips over your mouth. The subtle scratch of his well trimmed beard tickles against your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, his hand pressed against the small of your back, securing you against his strong body.

It was moments like this that made you want to melt into him, to let him take everything you were, and everything he was and mold them together as one. Ben was everything to you and now that you knew what it was like to have him not be in your life, you were never going to let him go.

"Ben." You smile, gently laying your hand on his cheek, feeling the coarse hairs of his beard scratch against your palms. "Please, just another hour at least."

"Sweetheart-"

You stand up on tip toe, so you can whisper in his ear while holding tight to his right shoulder. "Baby please. One more hour and then you'll have me all to yourself."

"Promise?" Ben murmurs, eyes darkening with your proposition.

"I promise."

Ben smiles pleased, and turns back to survey the crowds chattering about the paintings you had done, his arm wrapped around your waist.

The different sized canvases on the wall were awash with colors. The theme was "Out With the Old and In With the New," inspired by a trip Ben and you had taken to Philadelphia, but also you saw it as a new beginning, a way for the two of you to shake off the shadow of the past and move into the future together. He'd wanted to see how much Philadelphia had changed and you hadn’t been there since your brother’s funeral.

The two of you had spent the week going to places you knew all too well before you became supes. Some of the buildings were still there, while others had vanished into obscurity. Ben's family estate was still just as you remembered it. He was still technically the owner, but you didn't want to make him stay there, not when you knew about the scars that clung to the walls and creeped along the staircases. He had stepped foot inside, the musty smell wafting out through the open doors, the dust swirling in clouds with every unsure step he took. Ben's father had died a few years before Ben went to Russia, and despite all the ways Ben disappointed him, Ben's father still left him everything.

When Ben stood just in the entryway of the mansion you could see the weight settle on his shoulders once more, the weight his father put there and pressed into him. The last time the two of you had been there was when Ben's father died, but you hadn't been able to comfort Ben the way you wanted to then. This time you took him into your arms and pressed his head into your shoulder, trailing your fingers into his hair, and holding him close to you. Ben put it up for sale before the two of you left, and you were more than happy to see it go.

Your family home was still standing, but inhabited by your distant relatives from your brother's side of the family. You hadn't tried to make a connection with them since you vanished forty years ago and didn't want to insert yourself into their lives now. You had everything you needed, you had a family, and you had Ben.

The canvases on the walls were born from what you found remaining in Philadelphia, the city that rose from the one you used to know so well. Each painting was an amalgamation of your memories of the Philadelphia from your youth painted in shades of gray and what replaced it, rose from the canvas in splashes of bold color as if rising from the ashes. It was one of your best shows, and judging by the chatter you had heard and how excited your agent and the curator was you knew that there weren't many canvases left over. Your favorite was hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room, the centerpiece of the entire show.

It was painted from the memory of the day Ben and you sat on the warm soft grass by the pond at Fairmount park. In the painting two people sat on the bank, the boy half turned to stare at the girl with a flower tucked into his jacket pocket and the girl half turned, her face pointed down focusing on a watercolor pad in her lap while her hair fell forward, but the audience could still see her smile and the boy's smirk. They sat in a haze of black and white while the new park swirled out from them in bold colors.

Ben hadn't seen it until you showed up to the gallery a few moments before the show opened. You'd kept it a surprise, only working on it whenever he was working, and his reaction was worth it. As soon as he saw it Ben had stopped dead in his tracks just within the front doors as if he couldn't believe it, his gaze focused on the picture. You'd asked him if he liked it and in response he had grabbed you and kissed you so fiercely in front of your agent and the curator that both of them walked away to give you some privacy. You were still buzzing from that kiss, well, the kiss and what Ben had done to you on the couch before you left your apartment together.

"I'm going to go get a drink." Ben glances in the direction of the bar before looking back at you. "Do you want something?"

"No, I'm okay right now. Thanks though."

He presses a kiss into the top of your head before he vanishes into the crowd. You prepare yourself for the wave of loss you feel whenever Ben leaves. It had only gotten worse after months of spending time together. When he went out of town it was almost unbearable, but he did try his best to keep you posted, by calling you whenever he could. Sometimes you worried that you needed him too much, that he thought you were being too clingy, but every time you tried to consciously pull back it was Ben that always doubled his efforts to be around you, almost as if he was trying to make up for you toning it down. It reassured you that Ben wanted you there and genuinely wanted to spend time with you.

"Y/n!" You hear a familiar voice say and you turn your head to see your friend Levi making his way through the crowd. His dark curly hair hangs over his shoulders in gentle waves and he's wearing a black button down shirt that he's rolled up to his elbows revealing the patchwork of ink covering every square inch of his golden skin. Levi was also an artist that showed at the gallery, which is how the two of you met. Over the years you had each gone to each other's shows and then out to dinner to celebrate. He was a good friend, but you knew he had feelings for you.

You had forgotten that he was going to be here, hadn't thought about it, and hadn't told Ben. An important thing that you should have told him because Levi is the man that you'd almost slept with.

It had almost happened two years ago and you had come to Levi's show, a collection of recycled sculptures that had stunned New York City. The two of you had gone out to dinner as you always did and after, Levi had leaned in to kiss your cheek to say goodbye, but you'd turned at the wrong moment and he'd caught your lips. The both of you had frozen outside the darkened restaurant, the sounds of the city rising around you, his dark brown eyes catching and holding your gaze. You don't know why you did it, maybe because you'd been lonely for so long or maybe because Rosemary had told you that you needed to start trying again, that she was worried about you being alone, so you kissed Levi.

You weren't sure how you ended up back at his apartment in his bed, but you'd stopped him just before you had sex. You told him that you couldn't do that, that you didn't think that you could be what he wanted, and that you were sorry. It had felt wrong to give him hope, only to take all away again. For you to do that had reminded you of the hope Ben had given you when you finally slept with him and how hollow you were when he broke your heart and told you that you meant nothing.

You refused to do that to someone else.

Levi had been confused, but he'd respected you, told you that you didn't have to apologize for anything. Unfortunately since then it had been a little bit awkward, because you knew he still had feelings for you, not to mention he'd seen you naked.

"Levi!" You smile back at him

He pulls you in for a hug, holding on to you for a second longer than he should. "How are you? I haven't seen you around and you didn't come to my show. I was worried."

"Oh I was out of town for a little bit." You wave a hand. "Kinda last minute."

"Oh. Well, I guess you weren't too busy for this." He gestures to the canvases on the walls. "They're gorgeous. I think this is my favorite show of yours."

"You say that after every show."

"And you say that at every one of my shows."

"Because it's true." You roll your eyes at Levi. "Your work gets better with age-"

"I could say the same thing to you." Levi runs a hand through his tangled dark hair. "Come on, you have to tell me the truth."

"What?"

"Were you an art prodigy or something? You can't be much older than me and your work is just insanely mind-altering."

If only he knew.

"Nope. I've just been practicing a long time." You smile to yourself at the inside joke.

"So unfair. I hate you, you know that right." Levi grins.

"Oh please. If anything I should hate you. I've never been good with sculpture."

"I told you that I would be available for lessons anytime."

"I'll think about it."

Levi glances around the room at all the people. "You know, I think they make a bigger deal about your shows than mine."

"Green isn't a good color on you Levi." You snort at him.

He only smiles. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

You freeze. It was the same thing that Ben had asked you moments ago before Levi showed up. Except when Ben said it you couldn’t help but smile and blush, but when Levi said it, it just was weird. "No. But it's alright." You smile awkwardly.

"Did you-" He clears his throat sensing the shift in conversation. "Did you want to get dinner after your show?"

The two of you hadn't had dinner since the incident two years ago, instead you had gone for coffee, because it felt less intimate and more like something the two of you could do as friends. You didn’t think that you would fall into bed with him if you were fully caffeinated. But it still made you feel bad because you thought you were leading him on, even when you told him exactly what you wanted.

"I know we haven’t in a while, but I miss you." Levi's eyes soften. "I know that what happened was a little awkward, but we can still be friends. Or maybe we can talk this out and you can tell me why you think doing this would be bad.” He gestures between the two of you. “Because we have so much in common and I really like you. And I think you do like me, but you just won't admit it-“

"Levi-" You begin to say, trying to think of a way to let him down easy, again, because he still didn’t seem to understand.

Ben's muscular arm weaves around your waist, pulling your hips back into his where he stands behind you as soon as you begin to answer, the warmth of his body like a shock to your system. He's got a glass of scotch in his free hand and he's staring at Levi with an unreadable expression.

Ben kisses you on the cheek, lingering for a second too long for it to be casual, blatantly marking his territory.

"What did I miss?" Ben says it as if he couldn’t hear the entire conversation from the bar, but you knew he had.

Levi’s eyes widen at Ben’s appearance and flick to you as if looking for an answer. Ben downs the glass in one gulp, placing it on the tray of a waiter who passes by.

“Ben, this is my friend Levi. Levi this is-“

You hesitate for a moment. Calling Ben your boyfriend felt wrong sometimes. Your relationship felt different to just say that he was your boyfriend, it didn’t seem to be enough, not to mention you felt like Ben was a little old to be your boyfriend, just as you felt a little old to be his girlfriend. Calling him your everything felt more appropriate, but it was too intimate for someone to know other than Ben.

“Ben.” Ben says extending his free hand to grasp Levi’s in a death grip, and you see Levi wince sightly when Ben tightens his grip. “Her husband.”

If you’d been drinking something you would have done a spit take right then and there. The word coming out of Ben’s mouth was foreign and so out of the blue the two of you might as well be swimming in the middle of a cobalt colored sea. The two of you hadn't spoken about that at all. It had never come up in conversation, even when the two of you took a walk around Rosemary's block and passed a jewelry store with a display of engagement rings. In fact the only time that you'd mentioned that you wanted to marry someone was the night that Ben almost killed Noir forty years ago and Ben made a joke about the two of you getting married. It had hurt when he did, it felt like he was mocking you, like he thought that it wasn't important.

That night you'd asked Ben if he wanted to marry someone and he said "maybe." You weren't sure if that was because Ben didn't believe in marriage or if he thought it wasn’t necessary, but to you things like that were important. You were old-fashioned and you wanted to marry Ben, you wanted to be his wife, but Ben hadn't proposed or stated that he wanted to marry you.

That could be your insecurity about being too clingy or your insecurity that Ben would pull away from you rising all over again, but you weren't sure if Ben cared about being your husband.

And yes maybe you were expecting a proposal sometime in the future, but it still hadn't happened and a part of you was worried that because it had not happened yet, it never would. Mostly because you couldn't think of what he was waiting for. He'd said that he never wanted to leave you ever again, told you that he wanted to give you everything you wanted, told you that he'd never love anyone else the way that he loved you, and yet there hadn't been talk to marriage. Not to mention you had told him that you loved him and that you'd never leave him and that you couldn't live without him.

Yes, you were living together, sharing a bank account, and spending every waking moment of your lives together, but there had been no discussion about him marrying you.

Which is odd because why did he tell Levi that we were married? Was he just trying to think of something official to make him back off?

Levi's eyes widen with the word "husband" his eyes darting to you in surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that you got married, congratulations." It doesn't sound sincere, but if Ben hears the insincerity, he ignores it.

"Thanks Levi." Ben smiles wider, pulling you tighter against his side. "It's fairly recent. We're still in that Honeymoon Phase, you know how it is." Ben's smile turns more into a smirk. "Kinda hard to leave the apartment if you know what I mean, champ. Could barely get her to this thing."

Your entire face flushes bright red in embarrassment, struck speechless. You knew Ben better than anyone and you knew that he was doing this because he was jealous, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing or any less Levi's business what Ben and you did in your apartment. Ben also didn't have anything to be jealous about, Levi was nothing compared to him, no one was compared to Ben, not when you were children and not now. You were sure that you'd told him that over and over again.

"Oh-um-" Levi clears his throat awkwardly, his own cheeks the same color of crimson of yours. "Yeah, well-"

"But if you still want to have dinner, I'm sure my wife and I could work out something." Ben smiles enjoying how frazzled Levi is.

You try not to flinch when Ben says the word "wife." "Ben-" You begin, hoping to give Levi a way out.

"Well, I'll have to check my schedule. I've got a show coming up and well-" Levi fumbles. "I'll see you." He turns and vanishes into the crowd of people flocking to your paintings.

Ben chuckles to himself. "He couldn't get out of here fast enough could he?"

You don't answer him. Ben's arm is around your waist, the warmth of his skin diffusing through his suit jacket and your dress into your body, but you don't feel the comfort you did when he first put it around you.

"You didn't have to do that." You say.

"Yes I did. He was trying to come on to my girl and we both know how much I hate sharing sweetheart." Ben replies light heartedly and you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Uh-huh." You look up at him. "So, I'm your wife? Funny I don't remember our wedding."

Ben's smile fades for a minute, clearing his throat. "He wants to fuck you. I was just trying to-"

"He's my friend Ben. We've been friends since I started showing in this gallery."

"He asked you to dinner."

"We've been to dinner before. We sometimes go out after the shows." You reply vaguely.

“You went out with him?” His eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

“No. We had dinner as friends. I recall you and I having dinner as friend a lot.” You say, not about to admit to Ben that you almost slept with Levi. You knew that particular piece of information was unneeded and would only upset him.

“That’s different!” Ben scoffs.

“Why is that different?” You pull back from him, letting his arm fall from your waist as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Because we both already were in love with one another!” Ben says it matter-of-factly as if it's the most obvious answer in the entire world.

"What? That doesn't make it a date!"

Wait, did he think that all those times we went to dinner were dates? Has Ben just been thinking that we were going out all these years? Is he freaking crazy? He doesn't have a right to think that way, not when he was sleeping his way through every major city in America.

"Yes it does."

"So you're telling me all those years that we spent together we were dating? And that you chasing after every woman who crossed your path was you what? Us having an open relationship?"

Ben narrows his eyes. "That's not what I'm saying."

"I mean, it kind of is. You think that just because we loved one another and went out to get food it was a date."

"No. I mean that it's different because you loved me and I loved you!"

"Ben-"

“Did you fuck him?” Ben's jaw locks, anger flashing in his eyes as he changes the subject.

Your mouth drops open in shock. "What? No. I told you that I've never been with anyone else, only you. I wouldn't lie about something like that-"

Does he really think that I would lie about that?

Ben's body stiffens and you see the dots connect inside his mind, green eyes hardening to a solid chunk of unyielding jade. "Is that the guy you almost slept with?" His gaze turns murderous.

"Ben-"

Ben's head swivels to glare at where Levi is standing across the room from the two of you speaking to someone else about his work. You can practically see the gears turning in Ben's head as he thinks of all the ways that he can kill him.

Truthfully you knew that Ben had a tendency to get jealous, had known it since the night Howard and you were dancing together, but you didn’t think that he deserved to be jealous about this.

I thought he was dead. I was trying to move on.. AND I didn’t sleep with him. Not to mention Ben and I weren't together. It's not like I was cheating on him or something.

"Why are you getting so angry? I wasn't cheating on you, we weren't together. And I didn't sleep with him."

"But he fucking touched you." Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at the back of Levi's head and you know that if Ben had laser vision Levi would be dead.

"He touched me two years ago! You're being ridiculous. I didn't go on a murder rampage through New York City whenever you slept with someone. If I did that there wouldn't be anymore women left in the state of New York."

"I am not being ridiculous!" He snaps eyes flashing back to you.

"Okay you've got to calm down."

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down."

"I don't understand why you're getting so angry about something that didn't happen. Not to mention it's me that has the right to be angry!"

"Why?"

"Because this," You wave your hand around the gallery. "Is my job and that," You point at Levi "Is kind of my coworker and you embarrassed me!"

"What? How the fuck did I embarrass you?" Ben was trying to keep his voice down, but you knew that it was becoming difficult for him.

"Well, call me crazy, but I don't want to talk about my sex life with someone else. Not to mention you had no right to lie to him. I get that you get jealous, but what you did was uncalled for."

"What in the actual fuck are you talking about?" His hands are clenched into fists at his sides so tightly that the skin stretched tight over his knuckles is white.

"We aren't married Ben. We live together. Those are two different things."

"It's not that different." Ben's shoulders fall and you see something flash for just a moment in his eyes that looks like disappointment.

Does he really think that living together and being together is the same as being marriage? As making a life-long commitment to someone? I mean I want to be married to him because I want to make that promise to him, want to bind myself to him because he's the only man that I've ever loved and I ever will love. I want to be his wife because I can't see my life without him in it.

"It is to me."

"But-"

"But what?" You scoff.

"Well we-" Ben's eyebrows furrow as he tries to find the right words, but he comes up empty handed.

"The only time that you've ever brought up marriage was when you were drunk off your ass on my couch after Noir, when you brought up Howard and then made a joke about the two of us getting married!"

"I mean, it wasn't completely a joke and I told you that I wasn't that drunk." Ben frowns. "And that doesn’t mean anything!"

"What do you mean it doesn’t mean anything? To me it does. Making that promise to someone, making a vow to them, binding yourself to them and saying those words aloud in front of everyone you love to someone means something to me. And I've told you that. I've told you what I wanted." You look up at him for a moment, before you realize something. It creeps along your skin like the first frost on a window pane. "Wait, are you saying that the idea of marriage doesn't mean anything to you? That you don't want to marry me?"

"Sweetheart wait a minute." Ben reaches out for you, but you take a shaky step back from him.

“What are we doing?”

“Huh?”

“I mean really. What are we doing?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know that Ben can hear you. Emotion makes your voice wobble as you stand there and look at him. He looks just as devastatingly handsome as he always does, but something lurks in his eyes that you can't place.

Deep down you had believed that Ben wanted to marry you, but maybe he was just waiting for the right moment, but now you weren't sure. Based on everything he'd said in the last minute you were starting to think that Ben didn't want to marry you.

If marriage doesn't mean anything to him, then does that mean he doesn't want to marry me? And then where is this going? I know that I want to get married and if he doesn't does that mean I'm not his forever?

"What do you mean?" The look on his face shifts into something else, something that looks surprisingly like fear, and to see that on Ben's face was physically jarring.

"If we're not going to get married then why are doing this? Why are we-" You look around the room, suddenly cold. "Ben, why are we together?"

You knew that you loved Ben more than anything and that you wanted to be apart of his life forever, that you wanted Ben to be your always. You wanted to say those words to Ben, to make that vow to love and cherish him for the rest of your life, but he didn't want to make them to you. Suddenly you felt like the stupid little girl that lived in Philadelphia and always did what you were told the one that watched her best friend make out with girls like Missy Callahan and longed to be with him.

"Sweetheart-" Ben says, stepping forward to touch you again, but you pull away from him. "Wait-" The tone of his voice is thick with emotion, gruff, just a rumble.

“I think you should leave." You say it, but your voice sounds hollow and far away.

It was the first time that you’d told him to leave since the night he came back to you, the first time since he came back that you wanted to be alone. You wanted to think this over, because now that you knew how he felt about marriage all you could think of is the possibility of spending years together only to be traded out by a newer model because Ben never wanted to marry you.

The people around you laughing and chatting at each of your paintings all of a sudden seem to be mocking you. Their happiness and joy taunting the warring heartbreak and hurt that swirls in the pit of your stomach. You feel your mind begin to slip into the memory of when you walked out of the bathroom at the night of the premiere, when you wove through the people who were so happy to be there while your heart was breaking. When it felt like your world was ending, and honestly, the feeling that you have now feels almost too similar to ignore.

"No I want to talk about this. I don’t want to leave.”

"I want you to." You lock eyes with him, fighting the urge to cry. "I need some time and I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here right now."

"But-" Ben's eyes haven't left you.

"Please go."

"Sweetheart-“

“No." You say sharply. "I think it would be better if you just went home. You wanted to anyway.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling your heart squeeze in your chest. "And this isn't the place for us to talk about this."

“Not because I didn’t want to be with you. I wanted to go home with you.” He emphasizes and reaches for your hand, but you move it away from him. Ben winces as if it hurts for him to be unable to touch you. Given what he'd confessed to you in the past you knew it was true.

“No I-“ You shake your head, tears burning against your eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t be with you if I’m not your forever. If you don't want to marry me. I-” Your eyes lock with his, hurt and heartbreak clamping around your heart in a vice. “So please just go.”

"Let me explain."

"No. I need to be alone."

“Sweetheart-“

“How many times do I have to say it? I want you to leave!”

The people around you turn to look at where Ben and you are standing, hearing your final words ring in the air between the two of you.

Ben freezes, something vulnerable crossing over his face before his expression hardens into the one that was more familiar. “Fine.”

And as he walks away, weaving through the people that stand at every canvas, you try not to feel the pit open up beneath your feet ready to swallow your broken heart whole.

When you get home the apartment is cold and dark, the shadows of your living room lengthening with every step you take towards the dark hallway and what lies beyond. Hurt, sadness, and remorse creep along your skin like a spider, it's spiderweb clinging to your body and ensnaring you like a wiggling fly in it's grasp. There was no warmth, only the cold chill of fear of what you’d find when you entered your shared bedroom.

Ben's cologne was stale, hanging in the air, but it wasn't fresh, just a reminder, and you knew deep down it was because he wasn't here. But somewhere you clung on with bloodied fingertips hoping and praying that he was.

You'd spent the rest of the evening nursing a glass of red wine, fiddling with your necklace, and talking with anyone who came up to you about the paintings, but you lacked the enthusiasm you should have.

Nothing else seemed to matter, not after the fight you'd had with Ben, and standing amongst your creations felt frivolous, especially when everything you said to him rang in your ears.

At the end of the night you'd stood at the centerpiece, looking at the familiar brushstrokes and splashes of color of the picture of Ben and you sitting on the bank of a pond while tears crept along your cheeks.

Your agent had taken your tears as tears of joy, happy that you’d sold out your show, but gazing up at the painting you regretted it's sale. It made you feel like a part of you was being sold, as if the memory you had of that day would go with the painting to it's new owner leaving you with nothing.

You'd realized as the night wore on how stupid you'd been. You wished that you could go back and apologize for everything you said to Ben, because it didn't matter, nothing else mattered to you but Ben. And you hated yourself for telling him to leave, not when you knew how much he hated it when you told him to go and when you knew after all these years he still struggled with the idea that you didn't want him with you, when in reality being without him made you feel as if you were drowning.

And right now in the aftermath of the fight, you could feel the seaweed tangling around your ankle to pull you under.

As you stood there gazing up at the painting you'd realized that maybe Ben really did think the two of you were married and maybe deep down you knew that. That it wasn't about saying those vows in an official ceremony, it was about everything the two of you said to one another every day since he came back, it was about the promises that Ben made and kept, and it was about everything the two of you had been through over the years.

A stupid ceremony and certificate didn't matter to you, not if it stood in the way of Ben and you. You'd graciously take everything he had to give you for the rest of your life, and you knew that Ben felt the same way. You knew that he wasn't going to leave you, wasn't going to cheat on you with someone else, and wasn't going to turn his back on you. Not after everything the two of you had gone through and not when you knew how much Ben loved you.

That was what you wanted to say to him now, because you felt so stupid that you yelled at him. To tell him that none of it mattered, that the only thing that mattered to you was him.

The urge to throw up surges into the back of your throat as you creep down the hallway, but when you open the bedroom door you see that the bed is empty. A cold hands traces it's way down your vertebrae bringing with it the chill of fear that you'd done it, you'd finally made Ben want to leave you, that he was fed up and he was gone for good.

You almost don't make it to the bathroom sink before you throw up the two glasses of wine you drank, the sour taste of bile and alcohol burning your throat as your hands tighten on the cool lip of the marble vanity. Sweat and tears streak down your red face as a shudder works it's way through your body.

You'd hoped that he'd be in bed, the thought was optimistic at best, but you knew that Ben couldn't go to bed without you. Even when you were up late painting Ben would always pull you away to come to bed, because he needed you there, he wanted you beside him as he drifted off, holding you close against his chest and molding his body around yours. When Ben went away for work and was gone for days, he always came back with dark circles under his eyes, and you knew he didn't sleep, because Ben couldn't sleep without you.

You could feel the ghost of his touch against your skin, causing more tears to crest and fall down your cheeks and another shudder shake your body.

You scramble to find your phone where you placed it on the counter beside you. The selfie of the two of you on your home screen pressed cheek to cheek almost mocking before you swipe your thumb frantically to find his contact. You hold it up to your ear listening to the line ring and each time it does, it's like another nail in the coffin, because Ben doesn't answer.

When the voicemail starts you're not really sure what to say.

"Hey it's me-" You clear your throat, but it does little to hide the sob. "I just got home and you're not here and I miss you." Your voice breaks. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you or made a big deal about it, please Ben just come home. I was being stupid and I don't want to live without-"

The message is cut off and you stand there with the phone pressed into your cheek for another minute, unable to put it down. You feel it crunch in your hand as you lose control, crying harder as you stand there in front of your vanity trying desperately not to feel like this is the end and Ben was never coming back.

The shower you take is longer than you intended, because you zone out halfway through and it's only when the water runs cold that you realize you need to get out. It's been over an hour since you got home, almost past one in the morning, but Ben still isn't there.

Instead of putting on one of your shirts you put on a pair of panties and you grab an oversized cotton shirt of Ben's that hangs mid-thigh, inhaling the familiar scent and trying to find some comfort, but all it does is remind you that he's gone and nothing compares to when he's here with you.

When you slide into bed, it's cold, and fear begins to trickle along your skin, fear that Ben was never coming back and the last thing you'd ever say to him was that you couldn't be with him and you wanted him to leave.

Something rough works it's way down your arm in a gentle motion, stirring you from sleep. One look at the alarm clock on your bedside table reveals that it's well past four in the morning. You didn't remember falling asleep all you remembered was crawling into bed and hugging Ben's pillow to your chest wishing that it was him.

You blink your eyes to adjust to the darkness, noticing a dark figure sitting on the edge of your side of the bed staring down at you. Ben's green eyes catch in the light that comes from the cracked bathroom door, flashing dark green in the mist of darkness that shrouds his body from the rest of the light. He's wearing the white button down shirt, but his suit coat and tie are missing. The first few buttons are unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing freckled skin. His hand is tracing it's way over your arm, the roughness of his palm against your skin familiar, warm and comforting.

"Ben?" Your voice is hoarse and broken, for a moment unsure if this is a dream and he's not really here.

He doesn't say anything.

"Ben!" You practically shout it this time and surge upwards out of the bed to wrap your arms around his body so tightly that you think you hear the cracking of bone, but you can't control yourself now. Not when he's warm and he's here, not when he came back despite what you yelled at him.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Tears were streaking down your face where it’s buried against the smooth slope his neck, saturating his dress shirt. “ I don’t want to lose you over something stupid like that.” You pull back to cup his cheeks taking in a shaky breath as you lean your forehead against his, memorizing the familiar edges you love so much. Even as close as you were to him you wanted more, you always wanted more. “I love you, only you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, more than I ever will love anyone. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry that I asked you to leave, I don’t want you to leave ever again. Whenever you’re not here it’s cold and colorless and I don’t want to live my life like that ever.” Your body shakes with sobs as you hold Ben tighter against you, afraid that he’ll vanish before your very eyes. “You and me together is enough for me. It’ll always be enough for me. We don’t have to-“

“It’s not enough for me.” Ben interrupts, his eyes not leaving your face. His expression is unreadable, the soft plains of his face sharpening in the moonlight that seeps through the bottom of the curtains of your shared bedroom.

“What?” You gasp and could feel your heart seize in your chest and your throat tighten in fear.

I can’t lose him, not again, not over a stupid argument that doesn’t mean anything when Ben means everything.

“This.” He clears his throat and gestures between the two of you. “Us being together like this, it’s not enough for me.”

It feels like you'd taken a bullet to the chest again, a sickening jolt back, and a sharp pain that follows as everything you know is stripped away. You're sure that you're about to break down into nothing, your heart crumbling in your hands as you try to hold it out to him and he turns away from you. Him saying those words to you made you feel like you had nothing left, because to know that you had him and lost him hurt more than knowing what it was like not to have him as completely as you had for the past five months.

"Ben please. I'm sorry I-" You sob, trying to cling to him, afraid to let him go, but he pulls away and stands up from the bed. "Don’t go please! Just tell me what I can do to make this right. Tell me how I can fix this." The words sound garbled as they exhale in one breath through tears and snot reaching for him frantically. "Please Ben I can't lose you-"

Ben takes your outstretched hand, gaze focused on your face. "Come on." He tugs gently, expecting you to follow him out of the bed.

"No, I want to talk about this. I don't want you to go!"

"Come on sweetheart." Ben encourages you quietly, tugging your hand once more, and this time you allow him to help you up from the bed.

You follow behind him, sobs shaking your shoulders because you're afraid Ben is taking you out to the living room to yell at you again, to tell you that he doesn't love you and you're going to find a packed bag.

But then Ben squeezes your hand to comfort you as you enter the living room and you stop dead in your tracks.

The entire room is covered in lavender, the kitchen counter, the coffee table in front of the plush leather couch, the large wooden table on the opposite side of the room that serves as your desk/workstation, and on the kitchen island broken up intermittently by candles that cast a soft honeyed light over the room. You gasp softly as Ben releases your hand, looking around the space with awe. You'd never seen so many bouquets of lavender in your entire life, each one sitting in a pretty glass vase, and in the center of the room stands one of your cherry wood colored easels holding the painting of Ben and you sitting on the bank of the pond.

You step closer to the painting, tracing the brush strokes with your eyes as you had earlier that night, reaching out to touch the edge, suddenly confused.

"Ben, what is this?" You turn to look at him, wiping the back of your hand across your face. You were sure that your eyes were puffy and that you were still covered in a layer of tears and snot, but you didn't care. Ben had seen you like this before and you were more worried about what was happening rather than how you looked.

You didn't understand what was happening, not when Ben came home so late and not when you had spent the entire night worried that he wasn't going to come back to you.

Ben is standing by the record player pushed up against the brick wall of your apartment that stands opposite your exhaustive collection of records and drops the needle. The song that begins to play is hauntingly familiar and you recognize it before Russ Columbo starts to sing.

"I can't forget the night I met you, That's all I'm dreaming of..."

It wasn't the first time that Ben and you had listened to this particular record, or danced together in the living room of your apartment in the quiet hours of the evening to "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love." The song was filled with memories, some good, some bad that the two of you had shared over the years. The words heavy and familiar, the story much too similar to the one you shared with Ben.

A part of you is surprised that he chose to play it. You still didn't quite understand what was happening, you thought that Ben was breaking up with you, but this didn't feel like a ending.

"How did you get the painting? I sold it." You ask him.

"You made a promise to be faithful, By all the stars above…"

The song continues to play bringing memories of each time it did rising with the soft familiar swell of the music. A flash of you dancing for the first time with Ben flits across your mind bringing the usual warmth and happiness followed by the memory of your birthday when you danced together and it felt like no one else existed as if it were just the two of you left in a world where everyone else was gone.

"I know." Ben half-smiles. "I bought it."

"But why?"

"My heart is beating, For you constantly…"

He's still standing by the record player as if he's afraid to get closer to you. "Well, I've never bought any of your work and I wanted to be supportive." Ben shrugs. "And I didn't want someone else to have a piece of us Sweetheart, felt wrong."

"You're all I needed, And so I pleaded, Please come back to me…"

Your breath catches. It was the same thought you'd had when you were standing at the painting at the end of the night wishing that you hadn't sold it, wishing that you kept it for Ben and you.

"Look I-" Ben clears his throat. "I've- fuck- I’ve never had a way with words, you know that." He takes a cautionary step forward towards you as if he's afraid you'll run. "But I'm going to try my best here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry."

"You made a plaything out of romance, What do you know of love…"

"Ben no, you don't have to apologize for anything." You close the distance between the two of you, taking his hands in yours to wash away any uncertainty Ben has about touching you. "It was me, it was all me and I shouldn't have said what I said and I shouldn’t have made you leave. I hate it when you leave. I-"

"Hey. Let me say this first." Ben's thumb rubs over the back of your hand, his eyes wide and an understanding smile on his face.

"At first, a slight suggestion, That grew to light my mind, Was the eternal question…"

"Okay." Your heart was stuttering in your chest, senses overwhelmed by the lavender that covered the room.

Ben looks down at your hands for a minute. "I'm sorry that I made you cry again. I hate it when you cry, especially when it's my fault. And I'm sorry that I made you think that I didn't want to marry you.” He almost whispers it and takes a deep breath. "When you asked me forty years ago if I wanted to marry anyone the only person that I could ever see myself marrying was you. Spending my life with you, waking up with you every morning, going to bed with you, and showing you how much you mean to me. And the truth is, it's all I've been thinking about since I got back, but I-" He swallows, still not looking up at you. "Fuck. I didn't think you'd say yes. "

"True love is hard to find…"

He wanted to marry me forty years ago?

Your eyes widen. "What? Why would you think that?”

Ben's green eyes flick up to yours for a moment, raising an eyebrow to remind you that he's trying to say something.

"Sorry." You murmur, tightening your hands around his.

"I don't deserve you, I never have. Fuck, it feels like my whole life I've been trying to earn you, but I never seem to come close." He sighs. "I've fucked up so many times and I've hurt people, killed others. I fucked up our friendship and I pushed you away, because I was-” Ben tighten his jaw as if it’s difficult to say the next words, “-Shit-" he murmurs the word under his breath before he continues, "scared to fail you and scared that I couldn't be what you wanted. I thought you deserved someone better, someone good, someone who wasn't such a fuck up like me, someone who you could love you the way that you deserve and I-" Ben swallows and takes another deep breath. "I spent my life chasing away everyone who tried because I hated the thought of you with someone else.”

"And in the day I found you, my love I had to share, I built my dreams around you…"

It hurt you to hear him say those things about himself, hurt you to see him still buckle under the pressure that his father put on his shoulders, and hurt you to see how little he thought of himself. Ben was one of the strongest people you knew, but even then you knew he needed you, and you'd spent your entire life making sure that you were there for him and you weren’t going to stop now.

"Somehow you made me care…"

"And yet every time I'm with you, you've never make it seem like I don't belong there. You don’t make me feel like a fuck up or a disappointment. You don’t turn your back on me or ignore the parts of me I tried to cover up for so long from everyone else. You see me, more than anyone has.” Ben murmurs, the smile on his face breaks something deep down inside of you and you can feel the tears begin to spill all over again. He traces a rough hand along the soft smooth edges of your face. Hands that had done painful over the years but were only gentle to you, hands that held you close, and treated you with love that only you were able to see. "You make me feel loved and I thought that I'd never have that, that I didn’t deserve it, but ever since I was eight years old you've forced yourself into my life and I can't imagine a world without you in it, I don't want to."

"Ben-" Your voice breaks with a sniffle, eyes brimming with fresh tears.

"Shh. I've still got a few more things." Ben smiles, brushing away a tear from your cheek. "You know my old man never gave me any advice that was worth a damn, but your dad did. He said that there's going to be a lot of women I run into and that most men pick from first glance the flashy ones that don’t last, the ones that aren't willing to stay for long, and the ones that care about all the wrong things. Your dad told me that I should pick someone that understands me better than I understand myself, someone who holds me accountable, someone that doesn't put up with any of my bullshit, someone to grow with, someone who loves me even if I believe they shouldn’t, and someone that makes me a better man." He chuckles under his breath. "And I knew exactly who he was talking about the minute he said it, because it's you sweetheart, it's always been you, from the moment you walked into that damn study and lied to my father about where I was."

"My heart is beating, For you constantly…"

The song is in full swing now, but you can barely hear it, all you can hear is Ben's steady heartbeat and yours beating together in tandem. The love you feel for him swelling in your chest with the music and with his words. You want so badly to pull him close and tell him how much you love him, how he's the only one, how he's everything you dreamed of, but you're trying not to interrupt him.

"Eighty years ago I made a mistake, I asked you to leave everything behind and come with me, because I couldn't lose you and because I couldn’t stand to see you with someone else. I didn't ask you to marry me, I didn't tell you how much you meant to me or that I loved you. I was selfish and I took advantage of our friendship. I strung you along all those fucking years, made you wait-"

"You didn’t take advantage of our friendship-“ You begin to say.

"Sweetheart please." He squeezes your hand and continues. "Forty years ago I made another mistake." He closes his eyes as if trying to forget for a moment, before he looks you in the eye once more. "I had everything I wanted for one night and then I fucking lost it. I treated you like you meant nothing to me. I threw you away. I said terrible things to push you away. I hurt you, and I will regret those things for the rest of my life, because it’s not true, you mean everything to me."

"You're all I needed, And so I pleaded, Please come back to me…"

You raise your free hand to his cheek. "I've forgiven you." You whisper and Ben leans into your hand.

"I know. And I don't deserve that, I don’t deserve you, I never have and I don’t think I ever will. You have meant more to me than anyone in my entire life. You are my family and my home. You have stood by me and loved me despite all the terrible shitty things I've done. You have seen me at my worst and you never left. Being your boyfriend isn’t enough for me. You being my girlfriend isn’t enough and frankly, it doesn’t feel like the right word for you not when you mean this much to me and not when you're the only person I need. So I'm asking you," Ben drops down on one knee, making your breath catch in your chest.

"Eighty years too late, to spend the rest of your life with me. Because I've spent the past forty without you and I don't want to spend another second regretting that I didn't do this eighty years ago. I'm asking you to chose me one more time, Sweetheart, and I promise that every day I will chose you every day for as long as I live. You said that you wanted to be my forever, well sweetheart, I can't imagine anything better." Ben swallows and reaches into his coat with his free hand, his right still holding on to yours, for a black suede box. "Will you marry me?"

You stand there for a moment stunned as he opens the box in his hand, gazing up at you like you're the sun as if you shone so brightly that the heavenly hosts bowed to your brilliance and he can't help but worship you. It's the same way that you saw the couple looking at each other the night Ben and you danced for the first time that continues to play in your silent apartment, bathed in the golden glow of candle light.

You gaze at Ben, eyes tracing the familiar face, seeing the old parts of him and the new ones that you'd come to love. You could see the boy you grew up with and the man he became, the same one you knew as a child and the man you fell in love with. The one who always put you first, who cared for you, protected you, and the one you thought you lost years ago.

The ring nestled in the black velvet is everything you imagined it to be. It's perfect, elegant, classic, it's you in every way, and it only proves to you again how well Ben knows you.

You could remember the day that Howard proposed, when all you felt was dread as he dropped to one knee in the dining room in front of your parents and revealed the ugliest piece of jewelry you’d ever seen, when he didn't make a grand gesture, didn’t profess his love to you, and didn’t make you feel special.

But Ben did. He always made you feel special, seen, loved, and appreciated. You refused to live another moment away from him and refused to deprive yourself of this indulgence, of him.

Ben had saved you more times than you could count and the day he took you away from Philadelphia was one of them. Away from a man who didn't love you, who didn't appreciate you, and who didn't think that you were worth more than a trophy to parade around a city.

You smile at the ring, tears glazing your eyes, because after all these years, you were right, Ben knew exactly the ring to get you and he knew exactly what to say to make everything else fade away into the past and have you hopeful for the coming future with him.

"Sweetheart?" Ben murmurs, looking suddenly worried and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer.

You look from the ring to the man you love with your entire being. "Took you long enough Benjamin."

Ben's smile makes you melt from the inside out. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes." You smile, vision blurring as Ben smiles even wider and puts the ring on your finger, before rising up from the ground to capture your lips against his as if he wishes for the two of you to fall in love all over again.

"There isn't anyone else Ben." You murmur against his lips. "There never has been and there never will be. All I want is you and me, forever."

Ben kisses you all over again, his hands holding you so tight against his chest that it’s almost painful, your own tangled in his hair, but you can't stop and you don't want him to either. Not when this was what you wished for, not when this was what you wanted for so long and you thought you'd never had, and not when you'd thought you'd lost him.

"Then I'll give it to you sweetheart." Ben presses his forehead against yours, his eyes shining. "I'll give you forever."

"And you call it madness, Oh but I call it love…"

A/n: I'm not crying... I lied, I am BIG time. Goodness, finishing this series is like saying goodbye to characters that feel like my children. Honestly, I can’t believe that we've finally all made it here, but here it is. There are so many people that I want to thank, too many to name, those who have been here from the beginning and those who came later, people who's constant comments, reblogs, and encouragements made me turn this story from one chapter into a multi-chapter fic. There are just so many wonderful people that I've interacted with on this site that made me want to continue writing and helped me find confidence in how I wrote and this fic is for them.

As always thank you so much for reading! This series will be continued in the form of some one-shots that I am plotting out currently and I have a lot of really cute ideas and some that are more angsty. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for future fics in this universe. ❤️🥰

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444

@lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn

@lifeonawhim @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife

@xxannyxx

@babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm

@lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake @thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@libby99hb @peachhiz @tinydancer40 @tinystarfishgalaxy

@jvanilly

@libby99hb @lunaticgurly @i-am-typing @52ndstreeet

@anna6307

@pixviee @soldiergrimes @ladysparkles78 @ahoytothestorm

@octoazzy @modiddys-blog @marmie-noir @practicallylivesonline

@impala67stellawinchester

@everlove @dangerousgardenchild

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic

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saminsecret · 4 months ago

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How the slashers would react to a male S/O part 3

I really like these :)

TW for homophobia and slurs

Characters include the Sinclair brothers (House of Wax)

Bo Sinclair

He refuses to believe it at first. Him? A queer? Nope. Refuses to even look at you because of how angry he is at both you and himself for being attracted to you. Calls you all kinds of names to deflect his feelings. If either one of his brothers try to talk to him about his feelings for you? They get cursed out, shoved around, spat at— “I ain’t no fucking fag!”

He doesn’t know how to flirt with you. How on earth does he flirt with a guy? Can he call you pretty? He doesn’t know how to approach you when it comes to flirting, so he ends up just trying to do it the same way he always does with women. Hopefully it works on you (it does).

He abandons his porn wall. He still likes women, but ever since you came into his life he’s found himself less interested in the pretty girls that come waltzing into town. He doesn’t get rid of the wall, and uses it to scare/torture his victims, but you start to notice that he’s not adding to it anymore. Not that you mind!

Still a bit homophobic. Whenever you two get in a fight, he throws all kinds of homophobic insults at you to get under your skin. He can fly off the handle pretty quickly and sometimes doesn’t even realize what he’s saying until later. He feels guilty, but can’t outright apologize to you because of his ego. But he will come up to you later, hugging and kissing on you and nuzzling his face into yours. He didn’t really mean it, Y/N. He just has anger issues.

Vincent Sinclair

Insanely ashamed of it. The moment he realizes he likes you, there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that he can’t push away. Will become even more of a recluse than he already was. Every time you manage to catch him out of the basement and try to talk to him, he is quickly scurrying back to safety. He can’t like you, Y/N. He just can’t.

Obsessively draws you. Despite his shame, he cannot stop thinking about you. It’s almost a compulsion with how much of his work space is filled with sketches or little wax figures of you. He tries to hide it, but eventually Bo finds out about his little art projects and gives him hell. “I knew you were nothing but a disgusting fucking queer!” Bo’s bullying only makes him distance himself from you further—Bo’s right, isn’t he?

Eventually Bo helps him out. He’s an asshole, but after a while he realizes that Vincent’s feelings for you are deeper than a stupid crush. He’s still bullying Vincent, no doubt, but he’s also forcing him to be around you more—either by making you take things down to him or making Vincent accompany you when dealing with tourists. His brother may be a fag, but it’s not the end of the world if he lets Vincent have this one thing. Bo can even use you as another thing to dangle over Vincent’s head to make him do whatever he wants him to.

Vincent won’t let you leave his side. You almost feel like a pet, tied to an invisible leash that Vincent holds with a tight grip. You are everything to him, Y/N. His muse, his boyfriend, his light, his world. He refuses to let you go now that you’re here. Won’t even let you help out with the tourists anymore as he’s worried something bad will happen to you. Most of your time is spent down with Vincent, making art or just cuddling with him. He loves to pose you and sketch you. You are so handsome, Y/N!

Lester Sinclair

Very confused! He might not even realize that he’s into you for a while—he really just never thought he’d be into a guy!

Doesn’t let Bo get to him. He really likes you and even though you’re a guy he still thinks you’re perfect! Bo will be relentless, just like he was with Vincent, but Lester just lets the comments roll off his back; Bo could only dream of being this lucky!

Really awkward. He is not good at flirting in general, but flirting with you? Everything feels backhanded. Even worse. “You’re so pretty for a guy, Y/N!” He’s constantly trying to ‘playfully’ tease you or push you but you just think he’s being mean. You don’t even realize he’s flirting with you. He gets a bit flustered after a while, and may even go to Bo for help. Bo doesn’t tell him anything that’s worth listening to.

Even more awkward. Once you guys start dating, he doesn’t really know how to go about it. How do two guys kiss? Is it just like kissing a girl? He really loves you Y/N but every time you go in for a kiss or hug or any type of contact he’s questioning if he’s doing it right. Eventually though, you show him that it’s all the same (but even better because it’s you!)

Will get so mad at homophobic tourists. You give Lester a peck on the cheek and one of the tourists y’all just helped makes a snide remark and it’s got Lester scoffing in surprise. Seriously? Will absolutely drop the polite act and may even complain to Bo or Vincent. Or, depending on how rude they were, he might even sick Jonesy on them…Either way he will not be sorry for what happens next to them. Those assholes definitely deserved it!

Jonesy loves you! Which makes Lester love you even more! Which makes Jonesy love you even more! The cycle of love continues. You are one lucky bastard, Y/N.

#slashers #slashers x reader #slasher fucker #slasher x male reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #Bo Sinclair x male reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #Vincent Sinclair x male reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #Lester Sinclair x male reader #house of wax #sinclair brothers #slasher x reader

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drluvsick · 9 months ago

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𝐎𝐈𝐙𝐘𝐒 — 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚

you get injured and giyu blames himself, although, it’s not really his fault, is it? 📝 gn! reader. for @meowzfordayz 4.1k event! might redo this only because i don’t like how i finished it off… we’ll see! hope you guys enjoy regardless! <3

word count : 600+

𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙄𝙉𝙂 . . . 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 𝘛𝘖 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 (𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘋 𝘜𝘗) — 𝘔𝘈𝘊 𝘋𝘌𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘊𝘖

“i’m sorry, this is all my fault— ” giyu’s voice shook as his hands trembled. with the snow piling down as the moments passed, you could easily mistake his tremors for being cold. but you knew better from his worried look and somewhat glassy eyes.

“giyu, love, it’s not. stop blaming everything on yourself.” you said back, your voice straining against the pain in your side from which the demon slashed at— blood oozing out as giyu continued to panic.

“if only i’d arrived sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“it’s not deep enough to kill me, i’ll be fine.” you tried to reassure him.

it was all too much, the flashbacks of death, his recent dreams of you in their situations. but he wouldn’t dare break down yet, not while you still needed to be taken somewhere to heal.

he ran as fast as his legs could take him while carrying you bridal style and slow enough so that you wouldn’t feel extra pain from his rushing. he hoped that you were right, that the cut wasn’t too deep, even if it was close to a vital point.

he could see the building of a wisteria house a few minutes later (he’s never been so relieved to see one of these), quickly handing you off and waiting impatiently to see you again after your treatment.

giyu felt terrible. he felt like the worst boyfriend ever as he paced outside the door like a dog waiting for its owner to come home.

could he have prevented this? this wouldn’t have happened had you been paired with another hashira. he’s just that bad. he wishes that you could be with anyone but him, someone that’ll actually protect you and make you happy— not… someone who can’t get over his past traumas and can’t even prevent a demon from attacking you.

he cursed the demon for being stronger than any lower class one. it wasn’t an uppermoon, but a demon with a powerful blood art can be threatening even without some of muzan’s blood.

the sliding door opens, making giyu perk his head up from staring down at the floor.

the elderly lady there smiles, beckoning him to come inside to see how you’re doing, on the way as he’s walking in talking about how lucky you are that the demon didn’t get any permanent damage done. she leaves with a, “i’ll have dinner ready for the both of you soon.”

you smile at him when he’s in view, holding out a hand as he carefully takes it. he kneels down to your level as you sit up the best you can, ignoring his protests for you to lie back down. you give him a small kiss on the cheek.

“it’s not your fault. it would’ve gotten me had you been there or not.” you start off.

“how are you so sure about that?” he tucks some hair behind your ear, interlacing his hands with yours.

“that demon was bad at concentrated shots at one target. it’s better if there’re multiple people, hence why most of its victims were in pairs,” you shrug, “it’s my fault for getting careless, you had nothing to do with it hitting me. i got the job done in the end anyways, and i’m at least alive, aren’t i?”

he nods, kissing your lips. “my heart still hasn’t recovered. it’s like i’m still afraid you’re going to leave any second.”

you smile at him. “i’m not going anywhere.” you pull him closer, his figure hovering over your body as you kiss him again, a little more intimate this time than his fleeting one.

“you’d better not.” he says as you pull away, your head finally resting against the pillow again. you giggle lightly as his own small laughter follows, the only thing on the both of your minds at that moment being so far away from the pain and misery from the world outside, focused solely on each other.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

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strangersteddierthings · 5 months ago

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Gut Instinct: Chapter 1 - Friday

[Art] [Ao3] [Prologue] [Chapter One]

The words are there, on the tip of his tongue (“What, to hang out with you and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?”) when a wave of nausea rolls through him so fast- Green, yellow, and red pinned against a wall. A grandfather clock. Sneakers floating at eye level in a graveyard. A cassette tape. Something wrapped around his neck and he can’t breath. A man. A monster. Dustin sobbing. -he has to spin around for fear he’s actually going to throw up on the counter, holding the phone away from his face in case he does. He retches once, twice, before swallowing it down. He can hear Dustin yelling his name through the phone repeatedly, asking if he’s throwing up.

“No, not throwing up,” Steve mutters defeatedly, the nausea ending quicker than it began now that he accepts he has to show up to Dustin’s stupid nerd game. “I’ll be there.”

“You will!?”

Steve jerks the phone away from his ear and once the shrieking stops, he pulls it back to his face in tandem with the sound of the door opening, “I said yeah. I gotta go, customers.”

Steve slams the phone down with a curse. “Fuck.”

Some lady who has been browsing the movies for twenty minutes now shoots him a dirty look. Steve shoots her an apologetic smile and mouths ‘sorry’. This placates her enough to drop the stink eye.

A quick glance at the clock lets him know he’s got three hours until school is out which sucks because he needs Robin. He’s never had a nightmare like that while awake before and he doesn’t really have the time to freak out about it right now because he is the only one on shift and he will get fired if he leaves now, and he’s not allowed to get fired until Robin goes to college, under penalty of death (says Robin).

That’s fine. He just has to last until his shift is over. At which point, he’ll be sullenly playing Dweebs and Daggers or whatever, and Robin will be getting ready for band because they’re going to playing at the basketball game tonight. So, talking to Robin before the game is off the table. That’ll have to be an after the basketball game thing.

It’s going to be a long day.

Despite the fact Steve had told him he would be here, Dustin still looks shocked when he sees Steve leaning against his car in the parking lot, Family Video vest discarded in the backseat. “Steve! You’re here!”

Steve rolls his eyes, pushing off his car to meet Dustin halfway. “I said I’d be here.”

Dustin doesn’t even look a little sheepish as he says, “I wasn’t sure if you were just lying to get off the phone or not. So, we asked Erica, too. But I’m sure it’ll be fine if we bring two replacements.”

“I’m wounded,” Steve monotones, before rolling his eyes. “So, guess I gotta get a crash course on your nerd game?”

“Yes!”

Dustin leads him through the school, and Steve recognizes the path to the auditorium. “You play this game on the stage?”

“What, no. We play it in the green room,” Dustin says, like Steve should have known that. “Old props make for great ambiance.”

Steve mouths the word ‘ambiance’ to himself as he follows Dustin to the green room. There’s a table set up with seating. At the head of it is a throne and Steve doesn’t even try to stifle his scoff and eyeroll. “Does the game runner dude sit there?”

“Dungeon Master, and yes,” Dustin says as he starts scooping things up and depositing them into Steve’s arms. A book, a couple of notebooks, loose leaf papers, and pencils. He looks like he is about to chuck some of the dice atop the pile before thinking better of it and stuffs those into his pocket instead. “To the library, Steve!”

“Library?” Steve turns to watch Dustin walk away, then looks down to the pile of things he’s holding, and back to Dustin who has stopped at the doorway. “But everything’s already here!”

“Yeah, and we need to leave it for Eddie. He might come back here to do some more planning, or additional prep, and honestly, I don’t want him to catch sight of you until we actually start playing,” Dustin says, like Steve is somehow the embarrassing nerd and not the other way around. Dustin has always treated him like he’s the strange outcast for not being a nerd, though, so that’s not surprising.

“Can we at least sit in the cafeteria, then? Not really in the mood to get shushed by the school librarian when I don’t even go here.”

Dustin looks deep in thought, as if it’s a tough decision between the library and the cafeteria. “Yeah, we can be in the cafeteria. If we sit in the far corner so no one passing by will see.”

Steve, who has taken two steps towards Dustin, stops and narrows his eyes. “Are you seriously embarrassed to be seen with me right now?”

“What? No!” Dustin shouts, eyes wide, “No! I just don’t want the rest of Hellfire to see you until we start playing! It’s- well, come on. We’ll chat while you roll stats.”

“Stats?” Steve repeats but knows he’s not getting an answer because Dustin has already started to walk away again.

Steve plops himself down in the first seat he gets to in the cafeteria, despite Dustin’s protests. “No. Sit. We are on a time crunch, right?”

Dustin sighs and Steve knows he’s won. “Yeah. So, I was thinking you’d be a pretty awesome paladin, but I think for your first game the easier thing will be to just be a human fighter. Then you don’t have to worry about picking spells, or-“

“Whoa. Stop,” Steve holds up his hands, “first you’re gonna tell me why you don’t want to be caught with me by the other members of your nerd club.”

“Oh, that’s- It’s not that I don’t want to get caught, why’d you word it like that? No, don’t answer. Jeff, Gareth, Frankie, and Eddie just seem to have a vendetta against you. Or something,” Dustin says, pulling the book he’d brought towards himself, seeming to flip open to a random page. “I talk about you. A lot, apparently. They seem determined to think you’re an asshole.”

“I kinda am, dude,” Steve shrugs, because he knows it. Being a different person than he was in high school is a process he is actively working on, sure, but Steve also knows he’s not exactly aiming to be the sweetest boy on the block.

“Not when it matters!” Dustin barks back at him and Steve is surprised by the ferocity behind his words. With how quickly he jumps to Steve’s defense, even against Steve himself. “Not to me, not to any of us. You’re an asshole when you’re defensive, which isn’t like, who you are as a person. Anyway, I don’t want them to like, refuse to let you play or something because of what they think they know about you.”

Steve is deeply touched if he’s being honest. “Alright, you win. I’ll play whatever you want me to play.”

This gives Dustin pause, looking between the book and Steve. Then he seems to make a decision because he reaches over and grabs the stack of loose leaf papers and starts looking through them. “I have already made you a character. Tiefling Paladin, Oath of the Crown subclass, my character’s half-brother. If you don’t care that I picked literally everything already, we can just go over how to play the game?”

“That would be great,” Steve says, “the less decision making on my part, the better.”

Dustin doesn’t say anything in response to that, but the look on his face says a lot. It’s a pretty positive look. “Okay. Here, this is the sheet. Level 15, like me, ‘cause I’ve been leveling the character when I level mine.”

And then Dustin doesn’t stop talking. He’s explaining spells, and attack actions, and how spells are an action but not an attack action, even if you’re using a spell to attack something. Talking about armor class and weapon damage, and spell slots, and the list seems to never end. It’s a lot all at once and he just knows he’s going to look stupid tonight but he’s going to give it his best. For Dustin. (And a little bit for the nausea from earlier.)

“Oh, we gotta get to the green room!” Dustin gasps suddenly and Steve looks at his watch. It’s about eight until five. Which is surprising, because Lucas’ basketball game is at six, and Steve knows that Dungeons and Dragons can take hours when they play in the Wheelers’ basement. Are the games shorter because it’s a school club? Can the school impose time limits like that?

They make quick work of grabbing everything from the table before Steve follows Dustin back through the school. As they approach Steve starts to hear voices. The closer he gets, the more he makes out, and soon enough they enter the room to hear the end of a conversation between Erica and Eddie Munson, as she beats him into submission about her character.

Steve hopes Eddie’s not going to give him the same treatment. He’s not sure he could make a good enough argument for his own involvement as Erica just did.

“Holy shit,” one of the older members says, “you actual do know King Steve?”

“I told you he’s awesome,” Dustin says in the tone that usually annoys Steve, the one where the unsaid parts sound like duh, you idiot and Steve finds that it’s less annoying when it’s used in his defense. “Come on Steve, sit beside me. I’ll help you with the rules.”

“Hold up,” Munson says, rounding to Steve. He hasn't seen Munson in person since he graduated, but it was even longer than that that he's been under the scrutiny of Munson's gaze. With him burning his bridge to Tommy H and Carol and the rise of Billy, Steve was left more or less alone his senior year. Munson still ranted and raved about conformity and high school hierarchy, but Steve was left out of those rants, or at least, was no longer the target. All that to say that having Munson's full attention is almost overwhelming, now. No Tommy H or Carol to snicker with him or distract Munson here, like they used to do.

Steve's always thought Munson was charismatic in a cult leader kind of way. Whether his presence brought you discomfort or ease, he had a way of making you feel like the only other person in a room with him when his focus was on you. Steve's never felt truly at ease in this presence before, but he certainly doesn't feel discomfort anymore. Munson's got big dark eyes and a pretty mouth for a man who only ever frowns or sneers in Steve's vicinity, but overall Munson's a good-looking dude, and he's not sure what to do with this revelation. This is not the time or place for unpacking that, especially since Munson looks like he cares very little for Steve’s presence here, but he also isn't immediately telling him to get out, so that’s gotta count for something. “Your character is?”

“Oh, uh, tiefling paladin, oath of the crown,” Steve recites, trying to subtly catch Dustin’s eye to make sure he didn’t mess that up.

Munson glares at him and Steve really should not be finding his potential hatred of him hot. “Right. And why’d you agree to sub?”

Because my gut instinct gave me the worst case of nausea I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve learned that bad things happen when I don’t listen to my gut, so I’m here seems like the wrong thing to say, but so does have you always been this hot? I'd like permission to stick around so I stare some more and figure out this strange, (not really) sudden attraction so instead Steve says, “Dustin asked.”

The glare doesn’t lessen but there is something on Munson's face that might have been surprise but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. “Fine.”

When the tension leaves his body is when Steve realizes he was truly worried Munson was going to kick him out. Dustin steers him to a chair next to one of the other members of Hellfire this isn't one of the Party, and then sits down next to him.

Since they all still seem to be gathering things, and Munson hasn’t sat in the throne yet, Steve turns to the guy beside him. “Hi. I’m Steve.”

“I know.”

“Right. And you are…?”

The guy eyes him, and Steve’ not sure what he’s looking for. “Gareth.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“We’ve met. Like four times,” Gareth says before turning away, to chat with Mike on the other side of him.

Steve is a little embarrassed to not remember that but only a little. He was a dick in high school who wouldn't have bothered to try and remember if they'd met before, but he's also had 3 concussions in just as many years and he understands his memory can be wonky. Looking around, he sees that, vaguely, everyone here is familiar. Steve knows their faces, at the least, but besides Munson, Steve couldn’t tell you anyone’s name. Well, except Gareth now.

Wait. Steve does a double take of the room before looking to Dustin. “Isn’t Lucas in this club, too?”

For the first time ever that Steve’s been witness to, Dustin looks sheepish. “Well, yeah, that’s why you’re here. To fill in for him. ‘Cause he’s in the basketball game.”

Steve’s feeling a little sick. Oh no. “And he’s okay with missing this game?”

An even more sheepish look. Steve’s stomach feels awfully bubbly as Dustin says, “well, uh, he doesn’t exactly know he’s missing it?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve must have misheard.

“He asked us to get Eddie to postpone the game, but Eddie said no. Besides, Mike’s leaving the state tomorrow morning and we’d have to wait two weeks to play again otherwise,” Dustin explains, “and, uh, we haven't seen him since he asked us after the assemble to tell him that the game would not be postponed.”

“That’s bullshit, Henderson,” Steve’s voice is loud but he’s not yelling. Not yet.

“Watch it, Harrington,” Munson snaps, matching Steve’s angry energy. “You don’t get to bully people around here.”

“That’s not- right, sorry. Just, can we postpone for like ten more minutes?” Steve asks.

“Why the Hell would we do that?” Munson looks bewildered.

“So, I can go tell Lucas this game wasn’t postponed, like he thinks it is,” that bit hissed in Dustin’s direction, “and he might only be going to the basketball game because he thinks this one isn’t happening.”

“Oh,” Munson seems to lose his steam, a small frown on his face as he says, “Fine. Ten minutes. We’re starting without you or Sinclair if it takes longer than that.”

“Thanks!” Steve smiles at Munson, which earns him look from Munson that’s kind of pinched in the face, but he’s not sticking around to ask about it. The rolling in his stomach is settling a little. This must be why his gut wants him here. To clear up the misunderstanding.

#gut instinct #my fic #steddie #steddiebang2024

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zepskies · 7 months ago

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August Fic Recs

Hey, friends!

I got inspired by the awesome monthly rec posts that @winchestergirl2 and @deanwinchesterswitch put together, and decided to try this out. I might not do this every month, but we'll see! lol I now realize how much time and effort this takes, so to you guys who do this on the regular, I salute you! 🫡 😂

Note: If the author provided a summary, I'll include it. If not, and if it's untitled, I'll include the first line of the story. If it's a series and the author provided a series masterlist link in the chapter post, I'll also include it. MINORS BEWARE: a lot of this is 18+ content!

Supernatural

Dean Winchester x Reader:

@mxltifxnd0m -

Cute Glasses

Boyfriend Headcanons

@dewwinchester -

Stitches Summary: Dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior -

Things Learned and Unlearned | Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15 Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Every Fucking Time Summary: You want to help Dean, but he knows you can't.

@talltalesandbedtimestories -

Just a Little Spice Summary: Dean likes to spice things up, but it would be nice if he didn’t have to put his life in danger in the process.

@luci-in-trenchcoats -

Oh, Baby Summary: When Dean is cursed on a hunt and turned into a baby, the reader has to take care of him along with Sam. Dean however, is a bit more adult than they might realize…

A Shirtless Winchester

Imagine...Breaking Dean Out of Jail

@zeppelinlvr -

"Better?" "Much" Summary: waking up next to Dean and getting ready with him.

@ohsc -

Help You

@rizlowwritessortof -

Sweet Escape - Part 1, Part 2 Summary: What happens when a friend jokingly does a spell at your birthday party to bring your cardboard standup of Dean Winchester to life?

@deans-queen -

Stolen Moments Summary: Y/N finds herself unable to resist capturing a rare, peaceful moment of Dean Winchester sleeping in a motel room. But when Dean wakes up and catches her in the act, what starts as an innocent photo op quickly turns into an intimate encounter.

Sweet Distractions Summary: Reader (Y/N) is at the bunker, working on an essay for her Child Development class. When Dean comes to check on her, his bad-boy charm quickly becomes a distraction she can’t resist, no matter how hard she tries.

@tofics -

Let There Be Light Summary: You, Dean and Sam are fighting America's monsters together. Coming from a long line of hunters, you fit right in with the Winchester boys, despite having been raised entirely different from the two. Where you were brought up with love and care, John raised Sam and Dean with rules and obedience. Seeing what Dean does for the world, you decide it's time that he gets his own share of love...

@jackles010378 -

A Sweet Treat Summary: Dean gets a little excited when Y/N makes his favourite treat.

Dean Winchester x OC:

@rizlowwritessortof -

Remember Me - Part 4

@spnbabe67 -

Girls, Girls, Girls Summary: While on a witch hunt Dean gets hit with a spell. Later at the hotel, Dean feels the effects of the spell and Tori has to help him through it.

It Takes Two Summary: Dean and Tori get roped into doing a pregnancy yoga session and he reminisces on how he found out she was pregnant. (Dean's POV)

Comfortember Day 7: Sick As A Dog Summary: When Dean wakes up sick, it's up to Tori to make him feel better again.

Comfortember 2023 Master List

The Broken Heart Trilogy Master List

Sam Winchester x Reader:

@ohsc -

Delicate

Untitled Drabble - "She wouldn't stop giggling."

The Boys

Soldier Boy x Reader:

@kaleldobrev -

Yes Ma'am (Soldier Boy x Plus-size!Reader) Summary: Macho Man Ben never thought he’d ever take orders from a woman; but now he does so with a smile (aka Ben is whipped and he doesn’t care).

After Everything Summary: You and Ben have a heart-to-heart.

@artyandink -

The Art of Heresy - Prequel, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Summary: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

Billy Butcher x Reader:

@lady-z-writes -

Untitled Drabble - "Butcher stumbles in the office. Haggard, nothing new."

Tracker

Russell Shaw x Reader:

@impala-dreamer -

Don't Mention It

@luci-in-trenchcoats -

M.I.A. Summary: When Colter Shaw calls the reader for help on a job, she thinks nothing of helping out. Only he never shows up and Colter may have just become the latest disappearance in this small town. It’s up to her and Russell to work together to find him before his case goes cold like all the others before…

Jacklesverse

Various characters portrayed by Jensen Ackles and/or crossovers:

@deanbrainrotwritings -

Jacklesverse Bingo 2023 Masterlist

@justagirlinafandomworld -

Stranded - SPN/The Boys crossover: Soldier Boy & Reader, with a mention of Dean.

@lamentationsofalonelypotato -

It's Not a Big Deal - SPN/The Boys crossover: Soldier Boy x Reader, with a side helping of Dean. Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

@artyandink -

Nature's Beauty Summary: You have stretch marks. How would the boys react to that?

Chicago Med

Will Halstead x Reader:

@deanstead -

5 Times You Held Back + 1 Time You Didn't Have To Summary: Five times you held back, and the one time you didn’t have to.

Wow, I read a lot this month! 😂 I hope you enjoy these lovely writers and their stories as much as I did. 💜

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yoongsriverandme · 1 month ago

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𓈒 ꪆৎ PROM SONG (GONE WRONG)!

❝ At the gate, stop and say, "be my valentine"… ❞

⤑ pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader

⤑ genre: fluff, mutual pining, idiots-to-lovers, strangers(?)-to friends-to lovers, "unrequited" love, secret admirer!au, college!au.

⤑ wc: 3.8k

⤑ summary: with valentine's day right around the corner, you somehow have to muster up the courage to confess to taehyung - but oh yeah, two things: 1. he doesn't know you exist, and 2. you're his secret admirer.

⤑ rating: g/teen & up audiences

⤑ warnings: none besides a literal sprinkle of light light angst, and a little cursing! everyone gets a cameo

⤑ date posted: feburary 14, 2025

⤑ authors note: AHHH HI!!! i'm so excited to be here! this is my first ever post on this account, and i'm so happy it's on valentine's day! i cooked up this sickeningly fluffy fic for my four followers, so enjoy!

𓈒 ꪆৎ masterlist

⁘ preface: i only use bts as face claims! they are my muses, so anything they say or do, do not reflect their real life character!

Valentine’s day.

A time where couples all over the world celebrate their love with treats, and dates, and cute little notes riddled with the cheesiest, loveliest words.

What a fucking chore.

Your school was cascaded with an ocean of pink and red, the halls drowned in hearts and sweet aspirations to encourage the young lovers that housed their classrooms, and the yearners that were thinking maybe, just maybe, today might be the day.

You smack a low hanging decoration out of your way as you walk, the small scowl that was forming on your face deeping because of the irritating spangle.

You didn’t hate love. That’s just stupid.

Normally the amorous energy didn’t get on your nerves.

How could they? With all of your friends gushing about the holiday, it’d be fruitless to be miffed over something as trivial as that, and it wasn’t like you didn’t want your friends to be happy.

You just had a bad morning.

‘Bad morning’ means seeing the guy you’re… mildly interested in, talking to another girl.

Feelings of jealousy felt like such a frivolous matter, because what’s the point in being mad at something or someone that wasn’t yours in the first place?

You hate the way your brain has labeled Kim Taehyung as yours in the first place.

He was well known around school, a fine arts major with a minor in photography, and quite popular on the internet.

He had a big Instagram account where he’d post personal pictures of things that were monotonous to any other person: a half empty cup of coffee, a sleeping cat on the street, a wildflower that seemed to have held some sort of beauty to the eye of its beholder.

Not that you were stalking him of course, it was just an admirable feat.

It was clear he was going to go far after graduation, and that in of itself was the most attractive part about him; not to mention his unwavering kindness or his off-kilter smile that appeared more like a box than anything.

Taehyung was also unshakably loyal. You’ve seen his anger directed at those who’d hurt his loved ones before, and it was terrifying.

So, it wasn’t strange that he’d be talking to someone that he knows. That’s just the way that life works. People talk to other people, plain and simple.

Just not you, it seems.

It’s not like you run in the same social circle, and you’ve never really made yourself available to him. It was your own fault.

It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to him, you were just… shy.

He’s the embodiment of sun, joy wrapped up into a small gift of a human being; and while yes, he does pick up where you lack, it seems to be too big of a gap to bridge. So, you’ll stick to admiring him for now.

“There’s another one, hyung!” Taehyung calls out in happiness as you round the corner to the hallway that houses the lockers.

Oh, and that too.

The love letters.

It was a lapse of judgement in your opinion.

You were vulnerable, and one of your closest friends had managed to weasel their way into your brain and placed false hope that sharing your writing would somehow win him over.

It seems to be half true, for what it’s worth.

You were prepared for the sheer amount of warmth to spread through your chest after watching Taehyung react to your love letters the first time.

It was very simple: “your art is beautiful.”

You had haphazardly shoved it through the slits in the metal locker before hauling ass to your next class. The only reason why you were able to see his reaction is because yours was only four lockers down.

It was hard to act inconspicuous when your hands were damp with sweat, every negative thought flowing through your mind at the same time:

‘He thinks it’s stupid’

‘He’ll throw it away’

‘“Your art is beautiful”? Yeah, not like he’s never heard that one before’

But the funny part about life is that sometimes, it goes the way you want it to.

“Wah! Taehyungie, is that a love note?” His close friend Hoseok, had sounded from behind him.

It had only taken Taehyung a handful of seconds to open his locker, watch the note flutter out, bend over, pick it up, and read it.

Your body went rigid, and the grating silence that fell the nearly empty hallway was deafening.

Then, “I don’t know.”

Hoseok looked over his shoulder, and his eyebrows drew together. “It’s not very long.” He speaks unsurely.

“I know,” Taehyung’s words were then followed by a wide smile. “It’s perfect.”

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

He had called the notes perfect.

From then on, you hadn’t really written a lot, because there was so much that you had to say that you couldn’t really say anything at all.

You wanted to write more, you wanted to give him more. There were so many times that you would go to write him a note with more than a sentence or two, but you’d end up sitting there and just staring at the slip of paper.

Your compliments never seemed to bother him, because every time you’d seen him go to grab his books, he’d give a quick, ecstatic glance over its internal contents, searching for your note.

It was flattering.

So, you kept writing, and he kept reading.

But now that Valentine’s day was around the corner, you couldn’t help but feel like you should have been doing more.

More of what? More words? Gifts? Actions? Confessions?

It leaves you in a conundrum, because while yes, you did want to confess to him, you had no fucking idea how, and secondly, to address the elephant in the room, he had no fucking idea who you were.

Okay, yeah, your lockers are only a foot or two apart, and yes, you do share a class with him, but you’ve never talked to him before. You’re lucky he would even remember your name because of attendance purposes.

You're snapped back into reality by a force slamming into you from behind, sending you stumbling forward and out from behind the corner you had been standing behind.

You let out an unattractive yelp, and your headphones had been ripped out of your ears and tumbled to the floor along with your phone.

You don’t even have time to blink before one Jeon Jungkook is in your field of vision, apologizing profusely and stumbling over himself to pick your things up.

“Oh, God – I’m so sorry! I – I didn’t see you, and I just wanted to –”

You swallowed harshly, keeping your eyes downcasted as embarrassment seeped into every crevice of your body.

So much for good introductions.

You know he was looking at you, and you knew that the ‘hyung’ he had been talking to was dance major Park Jimin.

Kill me. Kill me. Kill me –

“It’s fine.” You spoke blankly, almost as if you were bored. Almost as if you weren’t about to spontaneously combust where you stood.

You pushed out a hand, gesturing to him to place your lost objects in them; and he did, albeit hesitantly.

“Again, I’m –”

“Sorry. Yeah, I heard you the first time, and I said it’s fine.”

You finally look up, and you try to not cringe at the overwhelming amount of worry that’s etched into Taehyung’s face.

Worry for who? You didn’t know, but you can’t help but risk a glance his way and his large brown eyes pour into your soul.

Dangerous.

This is exactly why you weren’t going to say anything.

“I’ve got to go to class. Just be careful next time.”

You rip your eyes away and turn around, abandoning your textbook and journal in exchange for safety.

Safe from what?

The hardest part about sharing a class with Kim Taehyung was actually having to see him.

What makes it even harder is that he has been non-stop looking at you the entire period, and you can’t help but be a little self-conscious.

You shift in your seat, straightening your shirt, and nonchalantly wiping around your mouth just in case you might have saved anything from breakfast on your face.

It was like heaven had opened up when the bell rang, and you were the first one to shoot up, shoving your backup materials into your bag. You could’ve gone faster.

Just when you thought you were free, two sneaker covered feet encroached your vision.

“Hey.”

The deep timber of his voice shook you to your very core, and you paused briefly, glancing up at him even though it felt like cinder blocks were tied to the back of your eyes.

“Hi.” You breathed.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook.”

“I already said it was fine.” You sighed, putting away the last of your things and hauling the strap of your tote bag over your shoulder.

“It’s not, though. He shouldn’t have been running in a busy hallway like that. He could’ve gotten him or someone else hurt.”

Your nerves practically hummed at his fussing, but you forced it down.

“I appreciate your concern, and I don’t blame him for running into me. A lot of my friends are like him too. Excitable, quick to injure. Like a puppy.”

At your dry-witted joke, Taehyung cracked a grin. “(y/n), right?”

Even though he was clearly in front of you, hearing him say your name nearly startled you half to death. It sounded good coming out of his mouth. Too good.

“Yeah, and I know you’re Taehyung.”

“I’m sorry we’ve never talked to each other before, I’ve just been busy with, you know…”

“Your art and stuff, yeah. I know.” He seems caught off guard by the show of information, and you think that now would be an excellent time to chuck yourself out the nearest window.

“You know about my art?”

“And your photography.”

Wow, very inconspicuous.

“Oh?”

“I… think your work is excellent. You find beauty in the small things. It’s admirable.”

For a moment he just stares at you, and you stare back. For the first time since coming in contact with him today, you didn’t have the overwhelming feeling to run.

Maybe you can give him a bit more.

“What are you doing today?” Your breath catches in your throat at his question; had it been this easy all along? “Why?”

For the first time today, you make him work for an answer from you, and you can see his grin melt into a small smirk. A sign that he appreciates the challenge.

“I was going to invite you to go out to lunch with me and my friends as an apology. Jungkook still feels terrible for almost tackling you.”

You wave off his statement. “As much as I’d love to, I’ve got a few things I’ve got to do today, but let Jungkook know that I’ll be around soon enough, so he can give me reparations then.”

Taehyung lets out a booming laugh.

“Alright, I’ll let him know.”

When you go back to your dorm that night, your hands practically shake with the adrenaline that your interactions with him gave you today.

You fumble to get out a pen, and instead of going for the half sheets of paper you had meticulously cut in half, you opt for a full piece.

You write what you’ve been feeling for these last few months; weeks upon weeks of yearning spill through your fingertips as you express your love for his laugh, how deeply enchanting his eyes are, how inspirational he is.

You write and write and write until your fingers cramp and you near the lower half of the page.

This. This was what you have been meaning to give him all this time.

This was the part of yourself that you were so desperate to show him. What you wanted him to acknowledge about himself.

In a corny show of vulnerability, you steal a heart sticker from your roommate and slip the letter – an actual letter! – into an envelope, sealing it shut with the glittering craft.

There’s rustling coming from outside, which means said roommate is home, and you quickly shove it into a random drawer in your desk for another day.

For the day.

You don’t expect Taehyung to talk to you the next day, or for the day after that.

He waves at you in the hallway when he sees you, comes to talk to you after class is over, and even gestures you over to sit next to him when he sees you sitting at lunch by yourself.

Normally you would take lunch as the time to catch up on a few things, the music blaring through your ears drowning out the restlessness of the campus goers around you.

You all but waddle over there, plopping down next to him a respectable distance away and fiddling with your jacket sleeve when your presence draws the attention of two of your seniors.

You bow at the waist in greeting of Yoongi and Namjoon, and they bow back, but you’re hit lightly with the back of Taehyung’s hand to your arm.

“Don’t bow to them, they don’t deserve it.”

Instantly, Yoongi’s sleepy demeanour slips and he hisses, swatting over at his dongsaeng half-heartedly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Respect your elders.”

You grin a bit, raising a brow Tae’s way as he cackles and leans back to avoid being hit.

“I didn’t know my friend was so disrespectful.” You find it in yourself to tease. It’s like a flip is switched in Taehyung, and he shoots you the most breath stealing pout you’ve only ever seen him give to the men in front of you.

Your grin slips and your eyes fall to his lips, watching them closely as he speaks. “Don’t be so mean to me, (y/n).”

Your mouth flounders like an idiot, your gaze zeroing in on the beauty marks and imperfections that riddle his face. God, he was so beautiful.

Someone clears their throat, and he pulls away from you, and you spin to face forward.

You catch Namjoon’s knowing look and act like you didn’t see it.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just butt-hurt that his secret admirer hasn’t left anything in his locker for the past few days.” Yoongi mumbles.

You force yourself not to cringe, but you can’t help but ask, “What secret admirer?”

“Someone’s been leaving Tae little compliments in his locker. It’s one of the things he’s been looking forward to, but the person hasn’t been by in a while.” Namjoon finishes for him.

“Hyung.” Taehyung whines, but it’s clear he’s been affected by the absence of your notes.

You had been so worried about the big bang that was ‘the letter’ – as your best friend had coined it – that you had forgotten about the compliments you were supposed to be writing to him.

But why would you write him compliments when you had the real deal right in front of you?

It didn’t seem to matter, though, because you can see the sad pull of his smile, how it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

You can’t take it.

“What if the person was planning something for valentine’s day?”

Three pairs of eyes land on you – suspicion, hope, and intrigue.

“Really?” Taehyung asks, but before he can answer, Yoongi goes, “How do you know?”

You flounder once again.

“I… I’m just making a logical guess.”

“Wah! So smart, (y/n).” The box-smiled man says in wonderment. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’ve been too in your head about some compliments. Idiot.” The last word is followed by a snapped flick to Tae’s forehead from Yoongi.

“Ow, hyung!”

You know Namjoon is staring at you. No – not staring at you – analyzing you.

You know the older man had always been too smart for his own good, so you’re not surprised that he might’ve caught on this quickly.

You refuse to look at him, because as they say, “eyes are the window to the soul,” And you aren’t interested in letting the dragon-eyed man in front of you into it any time soon.

“Well good thing tomorrow is valentine’s day, right?” You don’t realize Taehyung’s talking to you until he nudges you with his shoulder.

“(y/n)?”

“Huh?” You ask intelligently, lifting your gaze from a spot on your table to look at him. “Right… right.” You agree with a nervous smile.

If Taehyung notices your anxiety, he doesn’t say anything, and you’re all the more grateful for it, though it feels like you're not alone with your thoughts.

That night, you prop the letter up on a stack of books and just stare at it.

You lean back in your seat, crossing your arms and staring it down as though it had personally offended you.

You can do this. It was easy.

Right?

You’re sick the entire morning, stomach swimming with something nasty as you tuck the offending piece of paper into your bag.

You’re just going to slip it into his locker, the same as you have every other time. The only difference is that your name is on it, and it’s up to him on whether or not he’ll decide to ever speak to you again.

It’s not the most foolproof plan you’ve ever had, but hey, a plan is a plan.

You tremble the whole walk to school, and it isn’t until you’re face-to-face with said locker that you finally feel bile start to burn at the back of your throat.

Oh God, were you really about to do this?

You force yourself to just bite the bullet and shove it in, but you’re stopped midway by a voice from behind you.

“(y/n)?”

Your arms that were raised to push the paper through the slots freeze midair, the only thing piercing the silence is the sound of the hefty envelope sliding in and landing somewhere inside the metal container.

Taehyung is behind you.

Taehyung is behind you and he just watched you stand here and slip a note into his locker confessing your love to him.

Yeah, this plan was sure as shit not fucking foolproof.

“It was you?”

There’s something in his voice you can’t detect, and it’s taking you everything in your power to not haul ass.

“I…” You don’t know what to say as you turn around and are confronted by a slack jawed, wide eyed Taehyung.

You swallow the sand that’s in your mouth. Tears burn at the back of your eyelids at the thought of his rejection. Your heart already aches.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry… for leaving all those notes in your locker and for getting your hopes up… I –”

“Stop.”

“What?” Air rushes out of your lungs like someone sat on your chest.

“Don’t say sorry for doing something that made me happy.”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be confused.

When he looks up at you, you can finally see the red hue that paints his caramel cheeks; he shares a nervous smile with you as he steps forward carefully, as though he’s afraid you’d disappear.

“I have a few secrets of my own that I think I should share with you.”

He reaches forward and encompasses your hand in his, and they are as big and warm as you had imagined they would be. They’re a bit calloused, but you figure that comes from holding a paintbrush for hours at a time.

“I… I’m really happy that it’s you.” He swallows and chuckles wetly. “I like you, (y/n). If you haven’t noticed.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“Don’t think you’ve been the only one watching someone around here.” He’s smiling brightly and his teeth are so white they nearly blind you.

“I confess that, I’ve known you for longer than when we first met.”

“What?” You ask again, but now you’re smiling just a bit. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he speaks. They’re fluttering so fast you feel nauseous.

“I’ve liked you since the beginning of the year.” He’s staring at you dead on. “I… I remember seeing you and thinking you were so cool.” Taehyung laughs at himself. “And not just cool, but I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I would look for you in the hallways, I’d watch you sitting alone at lunch, and I’d watch you watch your friends. I thought it was always a bit strange how you never wanted to talk, because I know you have so many brilliant thoughts in your head.”

Your cheeks flush with an unbearable heat, and you express your shyness by squeezing his hand, and he gives you an answering squeeze back.

“I remember when you presented your project and being so enamoured the entire time. I couldn’t help but think about what else you had in that brain of yours. And then I remember thinking after that, that I would read or listen to whatever you came up with.”

“Then the notes started.”

Your breath catches.

“Then I got confused. Because here this person is, telling me how beautiful they think my work is, when I already have the most beautiful thing right in front of me.”

Beautiful. You.

“Hoseok-hyung grilled me so hard after the first time you had ever given me a note.” He chuckles once more. “He had asked me, ‘what are you going to do?’ and I remember saying, ‘I don’t know.’”

He licks his dry lips. “But I knew that I hoped it was you. That you were the one that came up with those sweet words.”

“I was content with watching you, and the flattery of the notes. But then Jungkook ran into you, and I knew my time of spectating was over, because I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to ruin any potential chance I may have had because my best friend was a bit of an idiot.”

You laugh at his words, and you hadn’t noticed you were crying until his free hand had come up and swiped at a stray tear rolling down your hot cheek.

“You were a bit scary to approach I admit, because if you had treated me the way you did Kook, I think I might have cried.” You cackle a bit.

“But you didn’t and then now here we are, on valentine’s day –”

“Confessing to each other in the hallway.” Your own words made yourself cringe, but you can’t stop the cheek splitting smile that forces its way onto your face.

“Is that what we're doing?” He asks cheekily. “Is that what you want to do?” You bite back playfully.

“It depends on what that note says.”

Oh no.

“Ugh,” You groan, and allow your head to fall forward and land on a surprisingly lean shoulder. “Don’t read it around me please.”

“So that means it’s good.”

“Taehyung!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A hand comes up to rub at your back comfortingly.

“But not really.”

You take the skin on his side and twist.

“Ow, ow!”

85 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 1 year ago

Text

Maybe We Could Be The Start of Something

Pairing: Band member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there.

Word Count: 3294

Warnings: none

Notes: I had this idea after seeing this art and couldn't stop thinking about it. I actually had a lot of ideas for little stories in this universe but it makes sense to start with how they met. Also I know that's a terrible band name but I never had to name a band before okay. I didn't proofread this because I think I'd delete the whole thing if I did, sorry. This is really self-indulgent but I hope you like it!

Band AU masterlist

You could only blame yourself for agreeing to meet Viviane. Your skull felt like it was going to split open with this headache that has lasted all week. The only thing you wanted to do right now was try to sleep it off under your warm blankets, but instead you willingly came to a bar knowing it was just going to make it worse.

She's been telling you about this place and the bands that perform here occasionally for ages. Apparently it's a real hotspot for up and coming musicians ever since two bands made it big after starting out here. You've been turning her down for weeks so you had promised her that you'd finally come this friday, of course when you agreed you couldn't have known your week was going to be absolute shit. Though most of your days have been shit lately. That might be the actual reason Viv has been so insistent about you going out with her, she knew your mental health was ready to take a vacation and was just being a good friend.

This really hadn't been a good day to come though. Aside from your headache, your last class had also run late, making you lose your bus and barely have time to drop everything off at home and change to come meet your friends. As a little treat you also couldn't find your nice black skirt so you had to just wear jeans, you definitely needed the extra confidence the pretty skirt provided but the universe didn't seem to care about that.

The bar was already packed by the time you got there, you were almost being pushed around while you were searching for your friends. You look down at your phone to ask them where they are and see a text from Viv asking if you're still coming. Reading it makes you stop in your tracks. You can't really blame her for thinking you wouldn't show up since you've been declining every invitation lately, but seeing that she thought you wouldn't even give her a heads up hurt a little. You knew you had been distant lately but you were trying your best to deal with life and you never meant to do it at the expense of your friendships.

You're pushed out of your thoughts when someone taps your shoulder gently, making you look back at them. Turning your head you were faced with a muscular chest, slowly looking up a tattooed neck to meet beautiful hazel eyes staring back at yours.

“I'm sorry to bother you,” he says, breaking eye contact for a second before continuing, “but I think you dropped this.” He raises his hand so you can see him holding your keys. Your house keys, the ones you would undoubtedly only notice were missing when you went back home and tried to open the door. That would have been the cherry on the cake after this whole day. Maybe you should see a witch to make sure it's not actually a curse, no one should experience this much bad luck.

“Thank you so much,” you almost yell as you grab them from his hand in excitement. He just saved you from having no place to sleep tonight. You notice him tensing up when your fingers brush against his hand and realize you might have made him uncomfortable. “I'm sorry,” you take a tiny step back in the crowded bar, “I would have been locked out of my apartment if you hadn't seen that. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” he said, giving you a nod and something close to a smile, before going on his way. You curse yourself again for acting so awkwardly. You hope you didn't make him feel uncomfortable, he was nice in picking up your keys and giving them back to you. He was also really cute which only made it more of a shame that you met like this. At least you didn't lose your keys, that would have seriously sucked.

Making your way to the table Viviane told you they would be at, you notice almost everyone is here. She was leaning against her boyfriend, Kallias, while they listened to whatever story Alba was telling them about. Ezio and Celia were both looking down at their phones and showing each other something while giggling like schoolgirls. As much as you love your friends, you don't know how much socializing you can handle today. You already fucked up what could have been a very simple interaction. Then again, with all of them here you know Viv won't try to ask you about Eleanor so at least you can keep avoiding hard topics. Viv greets you with a grin as soon as she sees you, everyone following right after.

“Hey, thought you weren't coming after all.” Yeah, you almost forgot about that. You smile anyway, knowing she didn't mean to remind you of how much of a bad friend you've been lately.

“Sorry, guys,” you sit down in the empty chair next to Alba before continuing, “Class ran late and then I lost my bus.”

“Oh. Bad luck.” You have no idea, Kallias. Conversation picked back up after that and you let them do most of the talking, taking a back seat and just watching them. You're glad that they either noticed you weren't in a talking mood or just didn't realize you were mostly quiet anyway.

You have no new stories to tell them since you've barely been functioning outside of school and talking about your feelings is definitely a resounding no, especially at a bar, so you just let them keep up with their conversations and just nod along every once in a while.

Eventually, the DJ introduces the band playing tonight. The Night Court. Judging by the screams and the way everyone moves closer to watch, they're very popular around here and you understand part of the reason for said popularity as soon as you see them step up on stage.

“Oh, they're really good!” Viviane's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “The guitarist is Mor's cousin. You remember her, right?” You nod. Of course you do. The blonde with sparkly eyeshadow and red lips leaves a big impression, forgetting Morrigan is probably impossible.

You study the guitarist as he introduces himself and the band. He's extremely handsome, the type of handsome that would make you think he can't be human, like some kind of fairy or vampire. You can tell he's aware of this fact with every honey dipped word that comes out of his mouth, literally flirting with the whole crowd. Despite not having many physical similarities with Mor, that allure he exudes definitely matches with hers.

The drummer was already sitting in place, looking eager to play. It takes you a second to notice he was in fact already sitting down as he's probably one of the tallest men you've ever seen in real life. But, with the messy shoulder length hair and big boyish grin on his face, he doesn't look scary at all.

As your eyes travel to the bassist, half hidden in the shadows, you wonder why you didn't recognize him immediately. It was the same guy that helped you before. You had thought he was beautiful before but, considering the situation, you didn't have much time to linger on that fact. However now that he was standing on stage, you could fully appreciate it. He was tall - this much you knew since you were at head level with his chest - and by the way his arms strained against his black t-shirt as he picked up his bass, you could tell he was fit too. He was looking down at the bass in his hands, making the few lights that caught him cast an ethereal glow on his face and on his onyx hair. This man looks like he stepped right down heaven's gates.

They start playing what you think is an original song but can't be sure since you were too distracted checking their bassist out to hear what Mor's cousin had said. He does have a really good singing voice but as your mystery angel starts singing, you can't help but feel bewitched back to watching him.

You barely take your eyes off him during the whole performance but they're all undeniably good. It's easy to understand why this bar is so popular if this is the level of talent their bands have. You can definitely imagine them making it big. They all seem very comfortable and content on stage and the crowd can't get enough of them.

You're so distracted by them that you don't even notice your head pounding anymore, or how fast time flies because, before you know it, they're saying their goodbyes to the crowd and leaving the stage.

Conversation starts back up after that, everyone is gushing about how talented and hot they are and you find yourself easily agreeing with their sentiments. But, with no distraction and the dj back playing songs you've heard a thousand times and the pressure of keeping conversation going, your headache comes back. You wait out just a little longer until you think it's an acceptable time to leave without worrying everyone too much.

“I'm sorry guys but I think I'm going to head home.” You finish the last of your drink even though it's mostly melted ice by that point and start putting your jacket on.

“Already?” You're not surprised Alba is the first to speak up. You'll never understand how this girl has so much energy, you had the same morning class as her but she's still as energetic as she was at lunchtime.

“It's still kind of early,” Viviane looks up at you with her icy eyes and you can recognize the concern in them immediately.

“It was just a busy week,” you explain with a smile on your face, hoping no one reads too much into it even though you all know that's not all. “I think I need to go sleep it off.”

“Are you going by yourself though?” Out of everyone at the table, Enzo is the worst one at hiding his emotions. You can see as clear as day that he's worried about you.

“I'll get an uber. Don't worry.” You gesture to your phone hoping they'll drop it.

“I can wait with you outside.” Kallias offers immediately, ever the responsible one. You really wanted to stay alone right now though.

“You don't have to.” You put your bag over your shoulder to add some finality to your words. “It's cold and there's going to be enough cars out at this hour, I won't be waiting for long.” It looks like he's about to say more but Viv puts a hand over his arm subtly, making him shut up. The bass of the music keeps hammering at your head so you don't linger and just say your goodbyes, waving at everyone with what you hope is a seemingly content smile, before leaving.

As soon as you step outside the pressure you feel starts slowing down. The front of the bar is still full of people so you walk a bit more to the little parking lot on this street. The air is cold but it feels amazing after being in the stuffed bar and your thoughts don't seem so overbearing when you don't have to try to act happy with your friends.

You love them to death but everything about how tonight went just proves that they've been talking about you behind your back. You know this is just them being good friends. You've been acting so differently in these last few months that even one of your professors noticed so it's only natural that they also did, but knowing everyone can tell only makes it worse.

You didn't want to make anyone worry about you. Life has just been going for your throat lately, minor inconveniences keep popping up and piling on top of what was already a pretty shitty situation. But you know once the semester ends, you'll get the chance to finally breathe and solve some of the problems you've been ignoring. And then things will hopefully get better. It just really sucks that your friendships and even school life has been affected by this.

Sitting down on top of the small wall that wrapped around the parking lot, you look up at the sky, willing your mind to let you rest for a bit. Watching the stars twinkling and your breath turn into white clouds of smoke because of the cold. You should probably get that uber and go home before any of your friends find you here, but your body doesn't want to move for some reason.

You feel someone approach you and look back down to meet familiar hazel eyes. You both stare at each other for a second longer than what would be normal, not expecting to see each other again.

“We keep running into each other,” you can hear his voice better here. You didn't notice how deep it was in the crowded bar. His singing voice is also deep but a bit softer than this.

“Yeah.” You smile. Seeing him again after how he helped you and then watching him on stage is making you a little giddy despite your somber mood. He seems a bit less unsure after you respond as well.

“Are you here alone?” He asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“No, I'm just waiting for an uber.” You hope you're not making a bad impression again. He probably hadn't seen you with your friends before either.

“Alright,” he looks over to what you assume is his car and then back to you, “I can wait here with you.”

“You don't have to. It's cold,” you start but he shakes his head before you even finish speaking, “I actually haven't called it yet.” He gives you a look of amusement and it just makes you try to explain yourself faster. “I have a headache. The cold just felt calming. I'll get it now.” Opening the app, you start searching and, just like you expected, there's a car barely 10 minutes away from you. A wave of disappointment washes over you at the thought that you won't get to talk to him for longer but you push it aside quickly, you barely know him.

“A bar probably isn't the best place to be if you have a headache,” he tilts his head slightly in what you're almost sure is concern. He's a little hard to read.

“I know but I already had told my friends I was coming so…” You shrug and change the subject, trying to allow this moment to let you forget about your earlier thoughts. “Didn't turn out too bad. There was this really good band playing today.” You can see a flush take over his cheeks and the tips of his ears and you feel incredibly proud of yourself for being the reason behind it.

“I'm glad you liked it,” he says as he dips his head slightly in thanks. You feel like this might be the best compliment you could have given him.

“You were all really good. I even forgot about my headache while I was watching you play,” you try not to sound too excited and make it weird but you want him to know how good his band is, “Do you perform here a lot?”

“Yeah,” he leans sideways against the wall next to you, “At least twice a month.” You're starting to notice that, although his face doesn't show too much emotion, his eyes are a little more expressive. His band seems to be a topic he likes talking about. You can understand why.

“Isn't that a big deal? I heard this bar is really popular nowadays, there has to be a lot of bands trying to perform here.” The blush seems to be back but it could also be because of the cold you're subjecting him to.

“We always try to do our best but we've been playing here for a long time. That helps too.”

“You know that's not it,” you point to the entrance of the bar, where some people are smoking, “The bar was packed. I don't know if that's how it always is but I'm pretty sure it was mostly people wanting to watch you perform.”

“You've never been here before?” It looks like he's getting a bit embarrassed by the praise so you let him change the subject.

You shake your head. “Need to come more often though. When are you performing again?”

“We don't always have a schedule,” he looks down at your phone in your hands then back up at you, “But I can text you the details.”

“Oh.” He wants your number. The thought makes warmth rush to your cheeks. “Alright.” You unlock your phone and hand it to him. While he's typing his number, you can't help but notice the scars on his hand. They completely cover his hands, the skin completely marred. It looks as if they were burned. You look away from them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by staring. He hands you your phone back and you see he saved his number under his name.

“Azriel,” you say the name out loud, tasting it in your mouth. He's watching you a little more intensely than before and you have to break eye contact to stop yourself from blushing. You quickly send him a text so he can save your number as well.

“I'll need yours too.” You give him your name and he repeats it, just as you had done. He makes it sound beautiful in his warm timbre and you can't help the flutter in your stomach. “I'll text you as soon as I find out when we're coming here next.”

“Okay.” You lock eyes and don't look away, just enjoying the moment, until you see a car pass by and realize it's yours.

You think you could have stayed there in the cold talking to him all night. You're not sure why but talking to him is effortless, it's like you've been friends for years. It just feels right and you find yourself wishing that he texts you soon with the concert information and anything else he comes up with. You wouldn't need much of an excuse to talk to him.

“That's my ride,” You say as you hop down from the wall. He looks at the car and when his eyes meet yours again you think you can see a hint of disappointment, hopefully at having to cut the moment short. “Thank you for waiting with me,” you smile at him again, “You didn't have to do that.”

“No problem.” He gives you a smile too, the biggest one you've seen on him. “I'll see you next time.”

“Of course.” You'd be an idiot to not want to see him again. You linger for as long as you can, suddenly not feeling like going home at all.

You wave at him again before getting in the car and something beats faster in your chest when he waves back and watches the car speed off down the street, it's almost like your heart is telling you to stay with him. You're not exactly sure what just happened but you hope you don't regret not staying with him for the rest of the night.

You keep thinking about him during the whole car ride and he's the last thing on your mind when you're laying down to sleep. And when he texts you the next day you know you'll have many more opportunities to spend the night talking to him.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #divider by saradika #band au #my writing

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silenzahra · 19 days ago

Text

❤️ Without him 💚

Ahh, my beloved @megamagimugi... Did you think that I only had ONE birthday present for you? 😌🎂

Turns out that, a while back, when you posted this, I knew that someday I'd want to write something inspired by it. Then you also made this (specifically Mario's drawing) and, well, my mind got to work 🤭

And finally, after working non-stop for the last couple of weeks, I'm delighted to present you a fic entirely inspired by your amazing and astounding art 😄🎉

I really hope you'll enjoy this both as a birthday present and a Mar10 Day celebration, dear friend! A couple of warnings though: this has a few TW that I'll list in a minute, and it's LONG. I remember you telling me I should let my stories grow as much as they need so... I did 🤭 So please make sure to take all the time you need and, maybe, grab a drink or a snack. Enjoy! 💖

I hope it's okay that I tag some friends who might be interested, but of course it's totally fine if you'd rather skip this one for whatever reason 💖 @vulpixfairy1985 @smokszyvverstar @bberetd (only if you want to, my dear bestie 🫂💖) @pepperycar @stripetkattelalala54-gf (at your own time of course 💖) @dragon-fly34 @roscolate @doodleydoo101

Without further ado, get ready for some brotherly angst... and love ❤️💚

TW: Blood, injuries, mourning, character death

✨ AO3 LINK ✨

Click to keep reading down below 👇🏻💖

❤️ Without him 💚

It’s still dark when Luigi emerges from the mansion.

Or perhaps sunlight never reaches this cursed area.

Luigi doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything anymore.

Trying not to drop anything he’s carrying in his arms, he just walks towards the outside of the building.

His heart feels heavy on his chest.

It’s all been a lie.

King Boo has been making fun of him from the start.

Mario is dead.

Luigi is unable to utter these words when he meets Professor E. Gadd in his laboratory to return the Poltergust 3000. Even so, the fact that he’s returned alone, as well as his somewhat robotic attitude and his reluctance to speak, are enough for the scientist to understand what’s happened without Luigi having to openly say it. Still, he decides not to stay to listen to whatever the old man was planning to say in order to try to console him. What for?

He just wants to mourn his beloved brother in peace.

He doesn't even mind where. He just knows that he wants to be alone, to leave this horrible place behind, to go away and never look back.

With narrowed eyes and his mouth a thin line, Luigi heads out of the laboratory. He doesn't bother to turn around to give one last glance at the iron door he crossed just a few seconds before, behind which now there’s only an empty lot whose atmosphere, however, is still disturbing. Luigi simply walks away from it with his arms full, his face impassive, his body numb, unable to sense the discomfort of the few scratches and blows he’s received while battling the ghosts, nor the tiredness that’s gradually taken hold of him as the night progressed.

Nevertheless, his throat...

Luigi doesn’t know when it appeared, but he feels a lump in his throat that just keeps growing. Knowing that he won’t be able to contain it for much longer, the plumber decides to sit on the gnarled root of a tree and slowly arranges the objects he was carrying in his arms around him.

One by one, he observes all of Mario's belongings that he’s collected during the night and which, unbeknownst to him at the time, would end up being the last things he’d have left of his twin. They were what he held on to in search of a glimmer of hope as he wandered through the mansion alone, thinking only of the moment when he’d finally find his sibling and, after making sure he was fine and safe, he could give him back everything he’d lost. A shoe, an ordinary one, just like the ones he wears. A glove, also like his, but a bit wider and a little wet. A star, which he himself insisted that Mario take with him when he went to explore the house on his own, so that he could protect himself if necessary, but which he didn’t have time to use before...

The twinge in his chest is so intense that Luigi is forced to squeeze his eyelids and lips with all his might. No matter how hard he tries to avoid it, his treacherous mind shows him the images of what must have happened: Mario, arriving alone at the manor, ready to inspect it and make sure it wasn't a trap, is suddenly attacked by a horde of Boos. They’re so numerous that his poor brother barely has time to notice their presence before several of them seize his arms and legs to prevent him from trying to defend himself. The star rests in his back pocket, longing to be utilized and turn its owner invincible.

But the Boos are stronger when they are united.

Mario didn't stand a chance.

The first tears begin to escape from the corners of Luigi's eyes and slide down his cheeks. The plumber doesn’t hold back the accompanying sob, which is followed by several more as his heart slowly bleeds. His shoulders shake and he brings a hand to his face while, with the other, he presses the last two objects he has left of his older sibling against his chest with all his might.

The hat. Luigi was surprised to find it in the washing machine, as at home he’s in the habit of washing both his clothes and Mario's by hand, but he simply took it to Madame Clairvoya as soon as he had the opportunity so that she could reveal something about the whereabouts of his twin. Now, Luigi not only understands that everything the ghost told him was a lie, but he also feels sad that the cap is so clean. It retains none of his brother's warmth, not even a single strand of hair, which was a shade of brown slightly lighter than his own.

Luigi is grateful to keep the garment, but, for him, it’s as if it never belonged to Mario.

And then there's the letter. Literally the last words his twin wrote to him. Coming from Mario, it could only be yet another attempt to protect him: “Look out for Boos, Luigi!” How did he manage to write it if the specters ambushed him? Why didn't he think of using the star to defend himself first? Maybe that way he could have escaped...

But no. Mario's priority was always to protect Luigi. Always.

Until the last second of his life.

Salty rivers flow from Luigi's eyes without any control. His body shakes in harsh convulsions while, deep inside, his shattered heart cries, tearing his soul apart. His soul, which will never be whole again, which has been broken forever. Mario... What will Luigi do now without him? How will he be able to go on without his sibling by his side? They’ve been together since they were born, they’ve never spent more than a few hours apart, they’ve always had each other's backs.

Especially Mario.

Never in his life had Luigi felt so useless.

What has he ever done for Mario? He never defended him, not in the same way that his brother defended him. He never got involved in a fight to protect him. He never had the courage to stand up to those who made fun of him, or rather, to them, because they always went for Luigi first and, as soon as Mario got involved, they turned to him.

But Luigi, despite the rage that welled up inside him and mingled with his fear, was never able to intervene.

And now he’ll never have the chance to try.

Heartbroken, he once again berates himself for all the mistakes he’s made that have led to this situation. First of all, how could he have been so stupid as to believe he had won a huge mansion in the middle of nowhere when he hadn't even entered a contest? Of course it was a trap! And of course Mario, much more battle-hardened than him, sensed it from the start.

And of course he’d do everything in his power to protect his younger twin.

Luigi sniffs, his face soaking, but he doesn't bother to wipe it. He doesn't want to let go of his brother's hat or letter. He wants them to remain close to his heart, as a way of keeping Mario's memory alive.

And also, perhaps, to lessen the guilt.

Because the biggest mistake Luigi made was to allow his sibling to go to the house alone.

Because of him, Mario fell right into the trap set for him by the Boos.

Because of him, Mario had no chance to defend himself.

Because of him, Mario is dead.

And Luigi will never be able to forgive himself for it.

Perhaps, if he had insisted more, his twin would’ve been happy for them to go together. Perhaps, if he had been with him, Luigi could’ve tried to protect him in some way. Perhaps he could’ve freed him from the clutches of the Boos. Perhaps he could’ve thrown him out of the building, away from the reach of the phantoms. Perhaps he could’ve saved him even at the cost of his own life.

Luigi would gladly give up his last breath if it meant bringing Mario back.

But who is he trying to fool? If he wasn’t able to face human aggressors in the past, how could he possibly muster the courage to do so with the Boos? Particularly considering how much he fears ghosts... Besides, he's not as strong as Mario. In fact, he’s quite the opposite: weak and faint-hearted. What could he have done against a legion of specters? He didn't even have the Poltergust 3000 when he arrived at the mansion.

Not that it helped him much.

Yes, in the end he captured the Boos, but one by one. Yes, he also defeated Boolossus, but, again, he did it by splitting him up with those ice statues so he could catch each spirit separately. And, yes, he beat King Boo. Despite the grief and pain that surged from the depths of his soul as soon as he heard the terrible truth, for once, anger took over and Luigi was finally able to trap his enemy.

And for what? For nothing. It was all in vain.

Mario was dead all along.

---------------------------------------------------

Mario wasn't expecting the ambush.

The Boos caught him completely off guard. They appeared from everywhere, illuminating the hall of the manor with their glimmering shine and pouncing on him before he even had time to understand what was happening. Despite his good reflexes, which helped him dodge the first Boos, Mario was being overpowered.

He fought tooth and nail. He punched and kicked as he ran and jumped, trying to reach the main door of the house, from which he had made the mistake of moving away. He only had to go down the stairs, maybe he could even buy some time if he tried to hang from the central lamp. Not having much time to decide, the plumber put his idea into action.

Two Boos intercepted him in mid-leap and Mario suddenly found himself floating upside down, held only by the leg of his overalls. The shrill cackles of the specters echoed around him. What the hell was going on? Why didn't those Boos turn around as soon as he looked at them, as happened in the haunted mansions he explored in some of his previous adventures?

Where had these ghosts come from?

“Let go!” he yelled, enraged.

He shook himself violently and even tried to reach the beings with his hands, trying to bend his body as far as possible, but the Boos would not allow it. Unexpectedly, they swung him before launching him into the air, which drew a shriek of terror from him as he feared fracturing something as soon as he hit the floor.

But then other Boos caught him, this time holding his arms sternly to prevent him from twisting. Mario, of course, put up a fight, eager to break free just so he could escape from there and hurry to warn Luigi. His brother was on his way to the manor. He had to stop him from setting foot in this ghost-infested place!

However, as soon as he realized how the remaining Boos were gathering in front of him like a swarm of bees, Mario stopped resisting, confused by the spirits’ attitude. Silently, he watched as these tiny and not at all scary Boos merged to form a single, enormous, round one, with a mocking expression that it fixed on him right away. Mario gasped, startled, unable to comprehend what his eyes were witnessing, and he couldn't contain the chill that ran through him when the newly formed specter’s glance flashed with pure malice, blazing like lightning.

The first blow, and the most lacerating, was to the eye. It was so fast, so sudden, that he didn't even have time to close it. Pain shot through his head as if a knife had been viciously plunged into his skull, and he was unable to contain the scream that escaped his throat. Instantly, the laughter of the Boos who were still grasping him flooded his ears, together with the guttural guffaw emitted by the enormous being that had just hit him. Mario barely had a moment to catch his breath before it attacked him again, this time in the stomach. When the Boos released him without warning, the plumber couldn't even shout as he plunged to the ground.

He fell on the stair landing with a dull thud, his nose hitting just above a step, so that the skin over his upper lip took the blow. He could barely utter a soft groan even though his whole frame felt the impact, but there was no air left in his lungs. He soon felt blood running down from under his moustache to his mouth. He was unable to try to raise his arm to wipe it away.

But the Boos were not done with him.

Mario felt a cold, ghostly hand grab his shoulder and force him to turn around without any care, so that his damaged body was left shoddily leaning against the wall of the hallway. Mario inhaled, trying to shake away drowsiness, and managed to focus his gaze just in time.

The huge Boo was hurtling towards him at full speed.

With a cry, Mario forced himself to cling to the steps beside him and held on to them to pull his frame. He tried to move his knees too and clambered awkwardly on all fours to dodge the attack, unable to stand up.

Although he managed to avoid the blow, as he struggled to get up, he felt the same spectral hand grab his ankle. Mario screamed and clung with all his might to the railing at the top. He shook and swung his foot up and down, without stopping for a second, angry and fed up at the same time, until he finally felt the extremity slip down his foot. It was taking off his shoe, but he didn't mind. He had to escape.

Finally, with one last jolt, Mario managed to free himself and hastily got to his feet. With one bare foot, his white and green striped sock being the only thing protecting him from the cold floor, he ran towards the double door in front of him, opened it in a hurry and went through, then rushed to close it behind him. He wasn't sure that a door would be an effective barrier against spirits, but he had to try.

He had to warn Luigi.

Breathless, his heart racing, Mario fell backwards against the door he had just gone through and began to rummage through his pockets. In his left pocket he found his pen and in his right pocket he found his notebook, which he always carried with him in case they received an unexpected call and he had to write down the details of a client who required the plumbing services that he and Luigi offered.

Never in his life had he appreciated having them so much as then.

With his hands trembling and blood starting to drip down his chin, Mario began to turn the pages. His eye still hurt a lot and he was sure that the damned being had caused him some serious damage, but he forced himself to try to open it to see something in that half-dark room. In the middle of his race, he hadn't even stopped to examine it, and he barely raised his head at that moment, just enough to make out a couple of candles whose faint light provided too dim an illumination for his injured eye.

But it would have to be enough. He had to warn Luigi.

If he was going to die there, if those Boos weren't going to let him reach the exit, he would at least try to leave a note for his twin as close as possible to the entrance door.

The handwriting came out crooked and somewhat shaky due to his state of nerves, but he didn't let that stop him. As soon as he had written his warning, he tore the page out of the notebook and pressed it against his chest. He needed a plan. He needed to reach the exit, either to escape or at least to be able to leave the note somewhere where Luigi, hopefully, would see it.

Hopefully, he thought, his little brother would have thought twice and would not go to the mansion.

Mario couldn't even imagine the fear Luigi would feel upon encountering such a dark, gloomy place, and, to top it all, one plagued by ghosts. He himself felt terrified, as he would’ve never expected the Boos to be so violent.

He desperately wanted to get out of there. He wanted to leave and not look back. He wanted to find Luigi before he set foot in that damn house and return home together.

He didn't want to spend another second without him.

Determined, Mario got back on his feet. He was still clutching the note to his chest when he put his ear to the double door, trying to hear something. He chose to ignore his surroundings completely, as he had no interest in discovering anything more about that house. He was resolved to leave, whatever the cost, or at the very least, to make sure that Luigi was kept safe, even at the cost of his own life.

Neglecting what was around him was the biggest mistake he made.

Once again, he didn't see the blow coming. He only felt something hard and heavy fall on his head, so violent and savage that the searing pain caused him to lose his sight in a matter of seconds. Before his body hit the carpeted floor of the building, Mario had already lost consciousness.

---------------------------------------------------

Luigi wonders if he’ll ever run out of tears. If his heart will ever stop aching as if a claw were squeezing it with all its might.

If he’ll ever learn to live without Mario. If he’ll ever stop mourning his absence.

If he’ll ever be able to forgive himself.

He knows with absolute certainty that the answer to all these questions is no.

His throat hurts like hell because of the loud, choking sobs that come out of it, which have been increasing, hand in hand with the anguish that floods his soul and has spread throughout his entire anatomy. The crying tears him apart inside and threatens to break his sternum in two halves. He doesn't care. It seems like little punishment to him. It’s too small a price to pay for being the main person responsible for the murder of his sibling.

“Oh, Mario...” he murmurs, his weeping unstoppable.

The loneliness was already weighing on him in the mansion, having to face all those ghosts on his own, but he did it for Mario and would do it again if it meant bringing him back.

But spending the rest of his days alone knowing that it’s his fault that his brother is no longer there...

What will he do now without him?

His anguish prevents him from hearing the creaking of the door to the professor's laboratory. The hurried footsteps on the ground, some of them somewhat muffled. Not even the approaching rapid gasps. The pain has plunged him into a dark and impenetrable world in which there’s no room for anything other than guilt and sadness, suffering and hopelessness.

However, there is something that does manage to make its way into the darkness of his mind.

The only thing that could.

“Lu?”

With a start, Luigi falls silent as he opens his eyes. He holds his breath as he makes out a figure in front of him, a silhouette trimmed against the gloom of the forest. He has to blink several times, though, until his vision, clouded and blurred, clears up enough, and then, silently, he looks up slightly and observes what is before him.

But he cannot believe what he sees.

No. His eyes are deceiving him, as are his ears.

It's not real. It can't be real.

Luigi shrinks. He’s undoubtedly in the presence of a spirit. A spirit that has somehow escaped from the mansion that has become its tomb and, full of a wholly justified thirst for revenge, is ready to torment him until the end of his days.

A spirit that, nevertheless, seems very solid and... is it panting?

Luigi swallows, unable to believe it. He notices the tear in the specter’s red shirt, more or less at the height of the elbow of his left arm, where a bloody wound stands out. He notices the naked hand at the end of it, also covered in blood. He notices the dirt on his overalls. He notices his green and white striped sock, visible because his right shoe is missing, stained with dirt, earth and a few drops of blood.

Slowly, Luigi lets out an exhalation as he raises his head with wide open eyes. He then sees that the supposed ghost, his hair tangled and messy, is smiling at him. A somewhat strange smile, because he has a black eye, a bruise on his cheek and blood. Blood that rises from his forehead and rushes towards his damaged eye, and blood that spurts out from just below his mustache and drips down his chin.

But it's still a smile, after all.

Then, the spirit of his brother, puffing less and less, holds out a hand to him.

“Lu,” he says again.

His voice doesn’t sound guttural or shrill, as one might expect from a specter. On the contrary. Luigi believes that he could touch the warmth and affection that oozes from the tone of Mario's ghost.

Mario's ghost.

His heart skips a beat.

He really is seeing Mario in front of him. His twin really is grinning at him. He really has held out an arm, and Luigi suddenly discerns just how close his fingers are to his face. Ignoring the dirt on the only glove Mario is wearing, all Luigi manages to do is keep the letter in one hand while, with the other, he places Mario’s lost hat on his sibling’s palm.

The giggle he emits as he grabs the cap also sounds very real. As authentic as that of the real Mario.

Like when he was alive.

As he watches the being lay the hat on his tousled curls, Luigi tells himself that, given that Mario was murdered when he was missing all these objects and, no doubt, put up a fight against the Boos, it makes sense that his spirit would manifest itself in this way: gloveless, hatless, shoeless, and looking like he's been beaten up.

His heart shrinks even further in his chest. How unfair that this was how Mario’s life ended. How angry he feels that he wasn’t able to do something to help him.

How ashamed he feels for not having been at his side so that, at least, Mario wouldn’t have had to go through that hell without him.

He’s the worst younger brother in existence.

He barely perceives the new tear staining his right cheek. He simply blinks as the specter, after adjusting his hat, turns his attention back to him. Luigi barely has time to behold him for a moment, his soul shrieking with hope at the sight of his twin, hat and all, being again in front of him, when, once again, his sibling, or what’s left of him, holds out his hand to him. Without hesitation.

This time, Luigi doesn't know whether he should give him the letter, or maybe the star, or perhaps the glove. So, undecided, he stares for a few seconds at Mario's outstretched limb before, uncertain, looking up at his face. His brother, despite the blood, despite the bruises, gives him a broad and sincere smile, the affection he has for him shining in his only open eye. As blue as the midday sky and as bright as when he was...

Alive.

-------------------------------------------------------

Even though he couldn’t know it then, Mario was about to face a long and agonizing captivity.

He remembered, even before opening his only healthy eye, the pain hammering at his skull and causing him excruciating dizziness. He remembered noting the blood sliding down his forehead. He remembered noticing the lack of his hat and the glove on his left hand when, in a futile attempt to mitigate his suffering, he massaged his temples.

He remembered the vision of an empty and lonely world, where fire danced in the dark sky and, all around him, there was only an endless stone pavement, with no trace of buildings, trees or any other living thing. He remembered the feeling of being lost and alone, the hopelessness of realizing that no matter how far he went, he never got anywhere, the fear of never being able to find a way out. He remembered the stale, almost unbreathable air and the dim light, to which his good eye soon became accustomed. He remembered the physical pain of all his wounds, his body complaining with every step he took, but above all, he remembered the panic that took hold of his soul.

The dread of never seeing his sibling again, of having to spend the rest of his days in that strange and horrendous place without him, overcame everything else.

Mario simply walked, unwilling to give up, ignoring his bare foot. He had to get out of there, he had to go back to Luigi, he had to stop the Boos from doing the same damage to his twin as they had done to him. He deeply regretted not having found a way to get the message to Luigi before the damn ghosts attacked him. Because of them, not only had he been unable to warn his brother, but now he was also bleeding from his head. He didn't care, although this time he did try to wipe the blood from his forehead with his sleeve, and also from his chin.

When Bowser fell on his back with a tremendous noise that destabilized him, it took him by surprise just like the Boos attack.

What the hell was the Koopa King doing there? Was he in cahoots with the specters? Mario didn't have much time to think about it, as Bowser immediately attacked him with his fire. He felt tremendously stupid when he recalled, in his eagerness to find a way to beat him, that Luigi, always so cautious, had insisted that he at least take a power-up with him before leaving home in case he needed to defend himself. How right his younger sibling always was and how grateful Mario was to have him. Maybe he could have used it against the Boos, he thought, berating himself, but he’d been so worried about escaping and warning Luigi that it hadn't even crossed his mind that he had a power-up that would give him the advantage.

Until, rummaging in his back pocket, he found it empty.

Those damn Boos!

His hat, his glove, his shoe, the letter he wrote to warn Luigi, and now his star too? Mario grumbled under his breath, feeling very guilty and useless for letting himself be knocked out so easily. He should have resisted more. The damn spirits had taken advantage of his incompetence and had made sure to leave him as helpless and defenseless as possible.

Equally frustrated and scared, Mario realized that he was going to have to face his archenemy the old-fashioned way. He was aware that he wasn’t in the best condition for a battle, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. Without a second thought, he began to run around Bowser to throw him off, but to his surprise, King Koopa, cackling, started to turn on the spot and didn’t take his eyes off him for an instant. Damn it, the plumber thought, annoyed. It seemed that his old tricks would no longer work...

Suddenly Bowser's head detached from the rest of his body.

Mario shrieked and fell backwards, horrified. He watched, with his good eye wide open, as the head floated on its own while the lower part stayed behind, and in the midst of his terror he was perplexed to discern that there was no blood anywhere.

What on earth was going on? What kind of twisted nightmare was this?

He got his answer when, from inside Bowser's neck, a Boo emerged, bigger and chubbier than the one that had attacked him in the mansion hall. It wore a crown with a brilliant ruby on its head, which sparkled as it reflected the glow of the burning sky. Its crooked smile revealed pointed fangs and a blue tongue, and its eyes, red and gleaming, fixed on Mario with a flash of hatred that made him swallow.

“Welcome to your new home, Mario!” the specter bellowed in a shrill voice. “You'd better get used to it, because you're never going to leave here!”

“W-what?” Mario muttered as he struggled to stand up and conceal his fear.

“You’re finally going to pay for what you've done!” the being continued, as if he hadn't heard him. “I've been planning this revenge with my Boos for a long time... Do you remember them? They're the ones you've been scaring and frightening non-stop, and that's a ghost's job! Do you hear me, you two-bit trashy plumber? Not some short, stumpy idiot’s like you!”

“Hey!” protested Mario. “Who are you calling stumpy?”

“The one I'm about to finish off!”

Unable to help himself, Mario shrank back as the supposed King Boo pointed one of his spectral arms at him. Overwhelmed, he looked around, but he knew he wouldn't find anything there, no weapon with which to defend himself, nor food or water to regain his strength.

He was doomed.

He knew he’d be ashamed for the rest of his life of what he was about to do, but at that moment he couldn’t think of any other option. So he was forced to summon up his last reserves of energy and choose the only alternative he would have liked never to have to carry out: he turned around and ran.

He immediately felt like a coward. He wasn't the type to run away, but rather to stand up to the situation. However, he quickly remembered that, sometimes, his younger brother also escaped from dangerous situations to buy time, come up with a plan and then, at last, face the threat.

The problem was that Mario had nowhere to take shelter. Behind him he could hear the heavy footsteps of the fake Bowser, whose body he imagined King Boo had just mended. Oh, if only Luigi were there with him... Mario’s sure it wouldn't take him long to come up with a strategy for them both to emerge victorious.

Even so, for nothing in the world would Mario have wanted to see his twin there. It would be definitive proof that they’d both lost, that they’d both been victims of that excessive desire for revenge that King Boo harbored against them. Or against him, rather, despite the fact that, in the past, Mario used to just turn his back on the Boos and walk away from them. He couldn't understand why King Boo felt such enormous aversion towards him just for that.

But, in any case, Luigi was not to blame for anything. Mario wanted to see him, of course, but not there, not in that empty, stinking place. The longing to see him again, to hold him in his arms once more, to feel his warmth and affection enveloping him, flooded him all at once, intense and fierce like the waves in the middle of a storm, but he cared more about his safety. He cared more that Luigi never came to that house, that he didn't fall into the Boos' ambush, that he wasn't caught in that horrendous world like he was.

Mario didn't know how, but he would find a way to return to his sibling whatever the cost. He was going to survive, if only to annoy that damned Boo. He was going to resist, for he was determined to embrace Luigi once again with all his might.

He was fed up with that nightmare, but he was even more fed up with every second that passed without him.

Then, overcome by tiredness and thirst, Mario stumbled.

As his already aching body hit the hard stone floor, Mario realized that he wouldn’t have a chance to fulfill his desires. He wouldn’t have a chance to return to Luigi. He wouldn’t have a chance to escape from there. He knew he was defeated, for pain and exhaustion had taken hold of his flesh and bones, and the darkness was eager to take him with it. He didn't want to give up, he didn't want to give in, but there was nothing he could do.

It appeared that, at last, his enemies had managed to beat him.

Bowser's footsteps stopped behind him. Mario waited, gasping for breath. He expected, perhaps, to have a paw stepping on his back or a claw lifting him up by force. He was even ready for the fire to devour him in no time, leaving nothing but ashes.

Nevertheless, what he felt was a slight brush against his shoulder, so cold and subtle that it sent a shiver down his spine.

“By the way...” King Boo's voice sounded like a terrifying whisper next to his ear. “It seems that someone has come to the mansion looking for you...”

Mario jumped and opened his eye with a start.

“Luigi?” he muttered, panting.

No! No, no, no, that was the last thing he needed to hear...

“But don't worry,” the being continued, reveling in his alarmed reaction, “my Boos will take good care of him, Mario. You’ll soon be reunited!”

He concluded with a shrill laugh that pierced his skull, but he didn't even mind.

Luigi. Luigi had ended up going there to search for him. Luigi was going to fall into the Boos' trap.

And Mario could do nothing to prevent it.

At that very moment, his heart ached much more than any of his many physical wounds. Mario hung his head, dejected, trying to find the strength to get to his feet, to look for a way out, to try to find a way to help Luigi. He had to do something.

Tears of impotence suddenly flooded his eyes and slid down his cheeks, mixing with blood. Mario cried in silence for a few seconds, feeling useless and very guilty about what his poor brother was about to suffer. If only his body didn't hurt so much, if only he could have been stronger to stop the Boos, if only he could have remembered the damn star...

He was grateful to have been left alone. At least no one would see him crying. At least no one would hear his low sobs or witness how tremendously pathetic he really was. What a hero. The shame of the Mushroom Kingdom. The most pathetic loser anyone had ever heard of. The disgrace of his family. The furthest thing imaginable from a role model.

He woke up when Bowser fell back, with all his weight, right next to him.

Mario wasn't even aware that he had fallen asleep, but, although he was still sensing the pain of all his lesions, he forced himself to shake the drowsiness off and stand up. Before he could fully stabilize himself, however, King Koopa turned on himself, with his back to him. The plumber began to back away, confused...

And then Bowser turned around at full speed and his tail struck Mario's left arm with unusual violence.

All Mario could do was scream as he was hurtled away, his skin burning from the blow.

He shouted again as he landed on that same arm, his hand and cheek scraping against the stone floor. He was barely able to utter a low groan. He didn’t even know which part of his anatomy hurt the most, which injury bled the most, if he would ever open his damaged eye again.

Bowser's footsteps echoed behind him, drawing nearer. His roars sounded more furious than before. Mario watched him approach with his eyelid half closed, still confused and disoriented. Everything was happening too fast and he, unable to forget the words that King Boo whispered to him before he lost consciousness, still felt guilt weighing on his chest at the thought that Luigi...

Mario’s eye fluttered open as he understood that Bowser's anger, which was actually King Boo's, had a reason.

Luigi.

Of course! His younger sibling was smart, brave and fast. He knew how to make the best plans and always had the best ideas. If there was anyone capable of standing up to the Boos, if there was anyone capable of finding a way to defeat their king, it was Luigi.

His incredible, agile and intelligent twin brother.

Mario felt terrible for having given in to despair. After all, hadn't he himself thought that Luigi would undoubtedly know how to face King Boo? How could he have allowed hopelessness and discouragement to take over his soul? Luigi could handle anything.

And Mario had to hold on, survive, resist. For Luigi.

He had no time to wallow in his pain.

Mario got up.

He resumed the race. He ignored the bellowing of the fake Bowser, which often mingled with the shrill shrieks of King Boo himself. He ignored the screams of his own body, begging him to stop and rest. He ignored the pleas of his poor throat, desperate for a simple drop of water. He even ignored the roars of his empty stomach, longing for a small morsel to fill itself up with. He ignored the weeping of his heart at the prolonged separation from his beloved sibling.

He ignored everything. He concentrated on running. And when he could no longer hear his enemy behind him, he dared to take a quick look over his shoulder before giving in and letting himself fall.

He didn't know if King Boo would return. He had to make the most of the time he had alone to give his battered frame a break, but he couldn't let his guard down. This time he wouldn't sleep. He’d stay alert. Watchful.

He was going to survive. King Boo was undoubtedly enjoying torturing him with every minute that passed, but Mario was planning to get his own back.

He would survive, escape and give him what he deserved.

And then he’d rejoin Luigi and never spend another second of his life without him again.

---------------------------------------------------------

Luigi can’t help but observe the ghost of his brother, unsure of how to react to his outstretched hand and apparent kindness. Should he trust him? Surely it's not... another trap?

“Luigi,” Mario says in a low whisper, “it's-a me!”

His words are interspersed with a soft chuckle that sounds like it wants to burst out, but which Mario tries to contain. Luigi catches sight of how his lips move when he speaks, how his chest rises and falls, how solid the limb he’s extended seems. He can’t help but notice, once again, how real his voice sounds when it reaches his ears.

Doubts and disbelief battle against hope inside him when, biting his lower lip, Luigi dares to raise his arm. He’s convinced that this is a huge mistake, that he’ll only find air, that he’s imagining things and his mind is deceiving him and it’s all in vain...

His breath escapes him the moment his fingertips find the palm of Mario's hand.

Solid. Firm. Real.

Just like the way Mario hastens to close his fingers around his own in a protective gesture.

Always protecting him, always looking after him, always watching over him.

Luigi gasps, staring fixedly at their clasped hands. He squeezes them, trying to convince himself that his older twin is really standing in front of him, and not a specter or a projection from the afterlife come to torment him.

And Mario squeezes back.

Luigi lets out a sound halfway between laughter and surprise. Fascinated, he looks up and finds a radiant grin from ear to ear on the bruised face of his sibling, his blue eye flashing, not losing detail of his reactions. Holding his breath, Luigi dares to put the letter he still had in his other hand on the root of the tree and slowly lifts his arm up.

His trembling palm finds Mario's chest and rests on it, unsure. His brother then places his own fingers on top of his and presses them gently, inviting him to keep them there for as long as necessary. It feels warm and real...

... As does Mario's pulse, steady and calm, which Luigi soon begins to perceive.

He inhales, on the verge of laughing or sobbing, he doesn't know, and clutches the fabric of the overalls of his twin, who lets out a low giggle. Luigi observes him again, biting his lower lip so as not to let out whatever is bubbling in his throat, and, without haste, starts to lift his arm, dragging Mario's along with it, as he doesn’t seem willing to let go of him.

When his palm meets Mario's cheek, he’s enveloped by the familiar warmth emanating from his skin through his glove.

His sibling tilts his head slightly towards his hand, closing his eye to enjoy the contact, and he exerts a slight pressure on Luigi’s extremity to better feel his caress.

Luigi is unable to discern the tangle of emotions that are swirling within right now, threatening to make his heart burst. Tears well up again, but this time they’re accompanied by a smile that gradually takes shape on his face as his mind finally takes in what’s happening.

Snickering gradually forms in his stomach and rises up through his sternum. Luigi, without letting go of Mario's hand or taking his palm away from his cheek, jumps to his feet as he releases the guffaw, sonorous and vibrant, which is promptly followed by that of his brother, just as powerful. He doesn't understand how, he doesn't understand what has happened, but it doesn't matter to him at all at the moment.

All he cares about is that Mario, the real one, the authentic one, is standing in front of him, gripping his hand securely, his laughter an echo of his own. All he cares about is that he can stroke Mario’s cheek, sense the warmth of Mario’s skin, feel Mario’s fingers lovingly covering his. All he cares about is that his twin, determined to return the gesture, ends up bringing his hand to Luigi’s cheek to wipe away his crying with his thumb, his face, real and smiling and alive, full of tenderness.

All he cares about is that he can finally hug him again.

“Mario,” he whispers, his tone still tinged with disbelief.

He closes his eyes and tilts his head, his body this time shaken by the chuckles he can’t stifle. He soon feels Mario’s forehead meet his, which brings forth a sob that wells up from the depths of his being. His sibling’s touch, as always, is comforting, reassuring, a balm for his poor shattered soul which, at last, begins to recover.

“Lulu,” replies Mario in the same tone, his palm still resting on his cheek.

With a new sob, Luigi slides his hand from Mario's cheek to the back of his neck to draw him towards him, and, after releasing his limb, he wraps his other arm around his beloved older brother and holds him close. He hugs him tighter than he can remember ever having done before, running his fingers through Mario’s tousled hair and crying into his shoulder. His broken heart slowly initiates the road towards healing thanks to the presence of his twin, who, without hesitating for a second, has in turn wrapped him in his arms and embraces him with the same intensity, his hand gently stroking his back in an attempt to convey some peace and tranquility.

Even so, as always, Mario doesn't pressure him. Silently, his sibling cradles him in his arms, the warmest blanket in the middle of winter, while Luigi gives free rein to the dizzying roller coaster of emotions he’s experienced in the last few hours. The uncertainty about Mario's whereabouts, the concern that something bad had happened to him, the horror of seeing his fear confirmed when King Boo told him that his Boos had killed Mario as soon as he set foot in the mansion, the grief, the guilt, the pain, the loneliness...

Finally, little by little, Luigi frees himself from it all. With each tear, with each sob, with each instant that passes clinging to his brother, his soul begins to heal and his heart starts to be restored, its pieces coming back together in his chest now that his other half is by his side again. The simple fact of having Mario next to him, of feeling his sturdiness in his arms and his breathing in his ear, is a strengthening relief for Luigi that is born in the depths of his being and gradually spreads to every corner of his anatomy, taking away all that’s negative and leaving room only for the immense joy of having his twin back and the placidity and peace that his bear hugs always give him.

Only Mario, with his gentleness and affection, his strong arms and delicate caresses, is capable of calming the storm that had been unleashed inside Luigi and that threatened to drag him into utter despair.

“Sono io,” Mario whispers then, his velvet tone filled with the cadence of a lullaby. “Sono qui, fratellino. Sono davvero qui e non vado da nessuna parte. Mai.”

Luigi's next sob turns into a giggle. Yes, Mario really is there with him, he really is holding him, he really is speaking to him in their native language to assure him that he’ll never leave his side again. His arms clench around his sibling, and he needs to catch his breath a couple of times before he’s able to reply.

“Ti voglio tanto bene, Mario,” he stammers, his voice strangled.

His brother pats him sweetly on the back, hugging him just as vigorously.

“Anch'io, Lulu,” he replies, and his soft, melodic tone fills him with calmness and serenity. “Anch'io ti voglio tantissimo...”

Clutching Mario's neck, Luigi laughs and cries at the same time. His words, spoken with such love that they make his soul tremble, provide him with all the warmth and comfort he had been longing to receive all night, since he set out on his unsuccessful search alone in the middle of the darkness. It still almost seems too good to be true that his twin is truly here, next to him, wrapping him in his protective arms like a shield that keeps him safe from all the evils of the outside world.

Mario is here, Mario is talking to him, Mario is embracing him, and Luigi can only cry with pure happiness.

Finally, with the last tear, Luigi manages to banish all traces of doubt and sadness left inside him. These are soon replaced by joy, which leads Luigi to vigorously clutch his brother, making him chuckle in surprise. Immediately, Mario hugs him tighter, and Luigi laughs even harder as he confirms that, as expected, his sibling’s energy is still intact and could take his breath away with a squeeze. He doesn't mind at all. Nothing could ruin the euphoria of having Mario back.

His rapture is such that, almost inadvertently, he begins to spring up and down in place, and it doesn't take long for his feet to move further away. As he continues to hold on to Mario, neither of them willing to let go of the other, he drags him along with him, but his twin doesn't seem bothered. In fact, Luigi suddenly feels how Mario's arms firmly encircle him around the waist and, the next thing he knows, his feet leave the ground, causing him to clench on to Mario even stronger as a loud squeal of surprise escapes his throat.

His brother's guffaws reverberate in his ear as he spins him around in the air, and Luigi joins in just a second later, his heart swelling in his chest at the bliss of the reunion.

When Mario finally sets him down gently, Luigi steps back a little, still snickering. His hands remain on Mario's shoulders, and his sibling, in turn, doesn’t let go of his waist. Luigi has to blink a couple of times to focus his still blurry gaze, and he jumps back as soon as he looks at his twin again.

“Mario!” he exclaims, cupping his brother’s face. “You're hurt!”

How could he have been so careless? The black eye, the blood... Luigi carefully runs his thumb over Mario’s injuries while, in his mind, he tries to remember if there’s anything within reach that he can use to help him. He’s going to need ice to apply to his eye, and gauze to clean the blood, and...

Mario's quiet laugh brings him back to the present.

“I'm fine, Lu,” he assures him, even though it's obvious that it's a lie. “They're just... war wounds.”

He shrugs and Luigi, much to his regret, smiles. He’s more than used to his twin always playing down the damage he receives during their adventures, no matter how serious. Still cupping his face in his palms, he leans down to kiss his sibling on the forehead, his affection for him warming his heart, and his grin broadens, full of tenderness, as he notices that Mario has closed his eyes the moment his lips have come into contact with his skin. When he moves away, they both exchange a loving expression that speaks for them.

“Come,” Luigi says shortly afterwards, reaching for Mario's hand, which he had raised to his shoulders. “I'm sure the professor has something to cure those war wounds,” he repeats jokingly, making Mario stick out his tongue. “In fact,” he exclaims as he realizes this, “he's going to be shocked when he sees you!”

To his surprise, Mario covers his mouth with his other hand to hide a giggle as he walks behind him.

“In fact,” he says, stealing his words, amusement coloring his voice, “I just came from his laboratory.”

“What?”

Luigi stops, open-mouthed, by the base of the tree and stares at him in silence, his fingers clenching his brother's.

“It's a long story,” Mario explains, looking around him doubtfully. “Do you think ...?”

As has sometimes happened when he’s seen Mario hesitate, Luigi, surprising himself, manages to react quickly.

“Say no more.” He puts his forefinger to his twin’s lips and grins. “Let's collect your things and go with the professor. You can tell us about it while I take care of you. I'm sure he'll be able to give you something to eat too.”

The smile Mario puts on is, to Luigi's amazement, timid.

“That would be great.”

At his response, Luigi abruptly realizes that, like him, his sibling must have gone hours without eating. And maybe even without drinking. He’s seized by the sudden urge to take Mario to the laboratory at once, to make sure he eats and drinks something before he starts to explain anything, to have the opportunity to begin treating his injuries. He gazes at the one on his elbow, which hasn’t stopped bleeding, and berates himself for having allowed his twin to pick him up in his condition. Is he blind? What kind of brother is he?

Hurriedly, Luigi bends down and picks up the shoe and glove. At least, he thinks, he’ll finally have a chance to return everything to his sibling, just as he intended. He would’ve liked the circumstances to be different, for the two to feel as best they could, but Luigi is well aware that, even so, he can't complain. What matter is that Mario is alive, and he’s going to make sure he gets better as soon as possible.

He's slightly startled to note that Mario is trying to grab the glove himself, so, taken aback, Luigi lets go of the garment. Looking distracted, Mario takes it with his right hand while stretching out his left, as if he were ready to put the filthy glove on his bleeding fingers.

Luigi almost has a heart attack.

“No way!” he stops him, holding his wrist. “It's very dirty and you're hurt. Your wounds could get infected!”

Mario chuckles.

“I just wanted to see your reaction,” he admits, giving him a slight push. “And you fell for it hook, line and sinker!”

“Very funny,” replies Luigi, folding his arms.

On his lips, however, a smile dances. It's a very good sign that his brother feels like teasing him despite his condition.

And how good it feels to be joking with his twin again.

For the next few minutes, Luigi enjoys every second of them both busily picking up Mario's objects, as his sibling never misses an opportunity to tease him whenever he can, pretending that he’s going to put his shoe on the sock stained with dirt and blood or that he drops the star when Luigi turns it over to him.

Still, when he picks up the letter, Luigi notices that there’s no trace of amusement in his brother’s gestures. Silently, he watches him unfold it and read it, and something breaks in his soul with the sigh that escapes from Mario's lips. Suddenly he seems dejected, as if he were being plagued by a flood of unpleasant memories, and Luigi wants to do something to erase them, to eliminate that expression from his twin’s face, to restore the joy and lightheartedness with which he was joking with him just a moment ago. He wants to pull his sibling out of the pit of sadness and desolation he has just sunk into and prevent him from falling back into it.

Then Mario looks up and, with a smile that’s anything but cheerful, holds out the paper to him.

“This is yours.”

Without a sound, Luigi reaches out and picks up the letter. He doesn't need to read it again, because he knows full well that it was a warning, a last attempt by his brother to keep him safe.

“I wrote it for you,” adds Mario.

Luigi tries to return his gesture but only manages to raise the corners of his mouth a little. Mario's shadowed gaze reveals to him that, much to his regret, he’s still immersed in those memories which he hopes he’ll soon share with him.

Perhaps, if they carry the burden together, it won't be so heavy.

“You have a lot to tell me,” he says, trying to give his voice a light tone that he’s not entirely sure he can achieve.

At least he manages to make his twin’s grin wider.

“And you me too,” says Mario, this time sounding much more carefree.

Luigi finds himself chuckling. He’s amazed by his sibling’s ability to overcome negative emotions. Deep down he knows that this is nothing more than a mask, and that Mario won’t be able to feel entirely better until he reveals all his fears and experiences to him.

But, for now, it’s enough.

----------------------------------------------

The first thing Mario did when he woke up again was to curse himself.

He shouldn't have fallen asleep again! He was supposed to stay alert! King Boo could return at any time, and he had to keep resisting. He had to go back to Luigi. He couldn't give up, even if he didn't know how to get out of that deserted world. He couldn't give up, even if his body kept complaining, at the end of his tether.

He couldn't give up even if it was the last thing he did in his life.

All he wanted was to see Luigi one last time. He’d be satisfied with that. He’d go in peace if he could only see his younger brother, safe and sound, before everything was over.

His defeatist thoughts came to a screeching halt the second his good eye revealed that the landscape around him had finally changed.

Surprised, he sat up, perhaps a little too quickly. A wave of dizziness plagued him, but he forced himself to ignore it.

He was no longer in the world of emptiness.

Mario had appeared, he didn't know how or why, in a room with stone walls and embedded columns. It seemed to have been very luxurious in the past, but at the moment there was nothing in it except a lamp hanging from the ceiling. Its light, although dim because it only had two bulbs, was enough to blind him, after his only healthy eye had become accustomed to the dull atmosphere of the lifeless place in which he’d been trapped for who knew how long.

Hope lit up in his chest as soon as he made out, at the back of the room, something that could lead him to his long-awaited freedom.

A door.

Mario didn't feel able to stand up again. His legs ached from all the running. His lungs begged for a long breath while his throat, dry and sore, protested ever more feebly, not to mention his growling stomach. His arm, his hand, his head and his mouth were bleeding, fresh blood mixing with the dried blood staining his skin. His eye was hurting more and more and he even feared he might lose it. His scratched cheek was throbbing as if he had a second heart just beneath it.

But the prospect of finally seeing Luigi caused all his physical pain to fade into the background.

There would be time to rest, to eat and drink as much as he liked. There would be time for his wounds to be properly treated. There would be time to give his body all the care it needed.

What mattered most to him now was to finally heal the pain in his soul.

Despite King Boo’s torture, Luigi hadn’t disappeared from Mario's thoughts for a moment, much less from his heart. He’d been unable to stop wondering how he was, if the Boos had hurt him, if King Boo had made good on his threat. Fortunately, he knew that if Luigi had fallen, he would know it deep down inside.

That would have been the signal to surrender and let himself be defeated.

There would be no point in living in a world without him.

In that instant, as he slowly got to his feet and started walking towards the door, Mario could only bring one hand to his chest to try to calm his weeping heart, which was protesting at the too-prolonged absence of his other half.

“Presto, cuore, presto,” he said to himself, gasping.

Speaking in his mother tongue, even if it was just to himself, brought him relief and reassurance that warmed him from within and made him feel closer to his younger sibling, even though he hadn’t yet been able to find him. The two often spoke to each other in the language of their homeland, inherited from their parents and grandparents, and it was how they used to comfort each other when they went through difficult times.

Italian was one of the many things that united the twins.

Soon, Mario reached the door. Fortunately, it opened without a problem and led him into a long stone corridor. The plumber began to walk down it, his pure love for his brother and his eagerness to see him being the driving force behind his legs. The corridor was winding and led to another door, which he could also open easily.

From then on, he was swallowed up by the darkness.

With every step he took, Mario regretted more and more not having a flashlight or a torch with him. There was nothing to illuminate these tunnels, and the realization that he was underground was somewhat overwhelming. He groped his way forward, his fingers feeling the stone walls, anxious to find an exit soon, an end, something.

Then his hand came across something and Mario stopped in his tracks, hopeful. He used all his fingers to slowly touch whatever it was that was in front of him. It seemed to be a smooth and resistant fabric, like that of... a canvas? Was he perhaps inside a painting?

He wasn't about to let that stop him.

“Hello?” he shouted, starting to hit the canvas from behind. His voice sounded hoarse and parched from lack of water, so he had to clear his throat before trying again. “Can anyone hear me? Please! I need to get out of here!”

He still had to ask for help a few more times before he finally perceived movement on the other side. Holding his breath, Mario leaned back and waited until someone finally removed the painting that was keeping him locked up.

The sudden artificial light dazzled him. He could barely take a quick look at the kind of art gallery he had ended up in before the person who had freed him caught his attention.

“Mario!” exclaimed the tiny little man, still carrying the canvas he’d just taken down from the wall.

He was short, shorter than him, which was saying something, and he had no hair except for a white streak that stood out on his forehead. He couldn't see his eyes because he was wearing glasses with spiral lenses, as well as a lab coat.

Had Mario stumbled upon... some kind of scientist?

“You're alive!”

The little man, delighted to see him even though he didn't know him at all, carefully put the painting aside and held out his hand to help him down. Mario accepted his offer, but despite this, he almost fell as he descended from the gap in the wall, as weak and dizzy as he was. Somehow, he had already become accustomed to people, especially the Toads, recognizing him and getting excited whenever they saw him in the streets of the Mushroom Kingdom, but when this person helped him up, he appeared genuinely pleased to have run into him, as if he missed him even though he didn't know him. Mario smiled at him, grateful and also very relieved to finally be able to interact with someone other than the damned King Boo, but he couldn't pay attention to the man’s words. He had to get his bearings in order to finally find Luigi.

It was, in fact, the name of his twin on the lips of the professor that caught his attention.

“Luigi?” he exclaimed, springing to him. “Is he here? Is he all right?”

“He's outside,” the old man explained, and his enthusiasm faded a bit. “He's... well, he thinks that you're...”

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Mario's shoulders sank slightly as he understood what his brother must be experiencing, but he was immediately overcome with determination.

“I have to see him,” he declared, clenching both fists, one bare and wounded, the other covered by a glove that was far from white. “Where is he?”

“Over here, son!” The scientist was soon cheered up again and led the way. “He's going to be so happy to see you!”

Mario was pleased to tell that the man seemed truly delighted. He wondered if he had been assisting Luigi while he remained trapped in that horrible environment that he preferred never to remember, and he was glad that his younger sibling had been able to count on his help.

Anticipating the second when he’d finally be reunited with him, Mario didn’t even pay attention to the rooms he passed through after the professor. He simply followed him up the stairs, ignoring the noises coming from some rooms whose doors remained closed, the pain of his lesions and the exhaustion of his body completely forgotten. He focused on the wooden door his guide was heading for. The man opened it and, with a smile, stepped aside to let him pass.

Mario took a deep breath as he found himself, at last, in the open air in a world he knew.

He might have been greeted by a dark sky and a gloomy and unwelcoming environment, as well as an unpleasant gust that ruffled his dirty, tangled hair, but it was still better than that cursed place where he’d been forced to flee from a fake Bowser. He couldn't help but notice, with surprise, the huge, now empty, plot of land where the mansion that had almost become his tomb used to stand. Mario wondered what had happened to it, why it was no longer there even though the entrance gate was still intact.

He didn't care.

It wasn't long before he heard some sobbing that drew his full attention. Turning to his right, he saw the leafless forest through which he had accessed the area, with a few crows perched in the highest branches.

And there, sitting on a large root protruding from the ground, he made out, with his back to him, the person he’d been looking for since he was attacked by the Boos.

His heart sank. His twin’s sobs stabbed at his soul like sharp daggers. He needed to make them stop. He needed to reassure Luigi that he was all right, that it had all been a lie, that it was all over.

He needed to embrace his beloved brother.

Ignoring the necessities of his body for the umpteenth time, Mario ran towards him, eager to reach his side. He forced himself to restrain himself, however, when he spotted the objects lying next to Luigi. His lost shoe, the one that that brute Boo had torn off him while he was trying to break free from his grip. His glove, resting on the root as if it were a ghostly hand. On the other side of Luigi, leaning against the tree, Mario made out the glint of the star, the one that could have saved them both so much suffering if he had only remembered to use it at the right moment.

Now that he was closer, Mario noticed that his younger sibling, in the midst of the grief he hoped to erase soon, was pressing two objects against his chest: his hat, which looked much cleaner than the last time he had it on his head... and the short letter he had written for him.

So, in the end, Luigi had found the note.

Mario let his shoulders drop. He was unable to smile while his twin was still in tears, but he felt a bit relieved to know that his warning had reached its intended recipient. And after all, Luigi was there, safe and sound. He had certainly outwitted the Boos. In fact, Mario then realized that he must have defeated King Boo too, or else he wouldn't be there right now.

Pride filled his heart and spread throughout his hurt frame, and he had to restrain himself from pouncing on Luigi and wrapping him in his arms with all his love and joy.

His brother was sad. He had to proceed slowly and carefully so as not to frighten him. He was going to prove to him that King Boo had lied to him. He was going to embrace him and allow him to cry in his arms while, he hoped, offering him the comfort and affection he needed.

Grinning softly, Mario held out his gloved hand and pronounced the name he used to call his sibling.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Lu.”

Luigi is startled by the concern that shines through his twin’s voice. He blinks a couple of times, returning to reality, and manages to focus again. Mario is staring at him with a smile full of adoration, but in his eyes, now that both are open, he can read a clear glint of worry.

Luigi purses his lips. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve for his brother to be so attentive to him, to go out of his way for him, to look out for him even when the most harmed one and who’s had the worst time of the two is Mario. Luigi only got a few bruises here and there, so slight that he doesn’t even remember them anymore. At least he’s glad he was finally able to treat his sibling’s wounds, especially his eye. Even though he didn’t say it out loud, seeing the condition of Mario’s left eye, Luigi came to fear that it was beyond saving.

Fortunately, it seems that, for now, applying ice to reduce the swelling and the ointment that the professor lent them will be enough for the eye to begin to heal. Luigi has decided that the first thing he’ll do the next day, as soon as they’ve rested, will be to take Mario to the Mushroom Kingdom hospital. His eye is going to need more than just ice to heal completely.

Luckily, the other lesions are healing well. Luigi has taken care to disinfect them all before bandaging or covering them in some way. His heart tumbled as he registered the seriousness of all of them and he berated himself, once again, for his negligence when he met up with Mario. He almost had to carry him back to the laboratory, as dizziness was taking over him even though Mario tried as hard as he could to hide it. His poor big brother... Now he has a bandage around his head to cover the huge injury that Boolossus caused to knock him out. That damn Boo... If Luigi had known what he’d done to Mario, if he’d had the slightest idea, he would’ve made sure the being paid for daring to hurt his twin.

He consoles himself by thinking that, at least, the specter is locked up now, like his king and all the other Boos who were bold enough to cause his sibling so much suffering. At least they’re paying for what they’ve done. At least they’ll rot forever on those canvases, from whence they should never have left.

Luigi jumps a little when Mario's fingers, with extreme delicacy, graze his cheeks. He lifts his gaze from the arm he’s bandaging and, looking back at his brother, Luigi notes that his eyes are blurry, and is surprised when his twin’s touch makes him perceive the dampness on his face.

At what point did he start to cry? Was it when he heard the way Mario attempted to escape Boolossus' brutal attacks to try to warn him not to go to the mansion? Could it have been the moment his sibling described everything that had happened in that other world, surely a dimension created by King Boo? Or perhaps they were tears of emotion caused by the way relief washed over Mario as he realized that he was no longer trapped in that horrendous place and, therefore, they could be reunited again?

Or maybe they’re simply tears of rage at the impotence he feels at not having been able to save his adored older brother from all his ordeal.

And to think that he felt alone and terrified as he wandered through that gloomy building alone... He could almost laugh at his stupidity. What he went through was nothing compared to what Mario had to face.

And it's all his fault.

He was the one who believed wholeheartedly that the contest was real. He was the one who got his hopes up thinking he had won something. He was the one who told Mario about his supposed new house.

He got him involved in all of that and Mario almost died.

Only to protect him.

If only there were a way to go back and spare his beloved twin all that torment...

Unable to contain himself, Luigi lets go of the bandages in a haphazard manner and pounces on Mario, who jumps back startled. However, his sibling is quick to return the embrace with a slight tender chuckle, and Luigi takes a deep breath to try to hold back his sobs as he senses Mario's reassuring pats on his back. He brings him closer and forces himself to release the air slowly.

“It's all over, Lulu.”

Mario's voice, sweet and reassuring, is like a delicate and loving caress that makes him smile. Luigi hugs him a little tighter as he nods, unable to speak.

“We're together, okay?” his brother continues, his tone full of serenity and adoration. “We're together and we'll never be separated again.”

A soft, warm kiss is pressed on his temple, and the love and care present in the gesture cause Luigi to melt. He tightens his eyelids as hot drops flow, wetting his twin’s shirt and drawing from him a sob that he cannot repress. Luigi sniffles for a moment and presses his cheek against his sibling’s, who strokes his hair affectionately. When he moves away from him, Mario hastens to cup his face and continues to gently wipe his tears away.

Luigi blinks and purses his lips in an effort to calm himself down. His brother's grin, as well as the sweetness with which he tries to comfort him, warms his heart and helps him, at last, to smile back.

“M-Mario, I...” he manages to say, his throat trembling.

He raises an arm to reach for one of his hands and Mario does not hesitate to interlace his fingers with his. Luigi clings to him and to the firmness that the contact transmits to him in an attempt to ground himself and try to find his voice.

The squeeze that Mario gives his hand is enough for him to manage to form the words.

“I'm so sorry, Mario,” he apologizes in a strangled tone. “I'm so sorry for dragging you into this...”

“Hey, hey,” Mario interrupts in a low but firm whisper.

Luigi perceives his twin’s palm pressing lightly against his cheek, trying to deepen the caress. He closes his eyes, moved, but, as much as he wants to, guilt won't let him stop crying.

“Lulu, you didn't drag me into anything,” Mario assures him. “King Boo framed us both, remember?

“Yeah, but I fell for it...”

“And so did I,” interrupts Mario, smiling, and lets out an ironic cackle. “In any case, we'd both be a couple of complete idiots, wouldn't we?”

That makes him giggle. His sibling always knows what to say or how to act to make him feel better, and Luigi is aware of his immense luck for having Mario in his life. He still feels guilty and undeserving of his forgiveness, but the quiet chuckles that his brother manages to draw out of him do lighten the weight on his heart a little.

“If only I could’ve spared you so many bad wounds,” he laments, observing, one by one, the injuries he has just bandaged.

“Well, every cloud has a silver lining,” replies Mario, amused. “I already have a costume for next Halloween: I'm a mummy!” he adds, lifting his half-bandaged arm and pointing at his head.

Luigi's guffaw comes from deep within and is genuine and thunderous. He’s amazed at himself for having emitted such a sound, but he has no regrets: not only does he feel better thanks to his twin, no longer wanting to weep, but Mario also joins in his laughter, looking at him with shining eyes. Seeing his older sibling amused again, slowly healing thanks to his nurturing and the food the professor kept in his laboratory, fills Luigi with so much joy and peace that he’s unable to describe in words, but which fill his soul with placidity and harmony.

He can't wait to take him home and make him one of his favorite dishes. Lasagna, perhaps, or spaghetti Bolognese. Or maybe he'd prefer his favorite pizza? Luigi doesn't mind, as long as he can take care of his beloved brother as he deserves and, in his own way, try to make up for everything he’s suffered.

He then notices the intense glance Mario is giving him, his blue eyes so glistening with affection that it only makes his smile widen.

“Besides, Lu...” Mario sighs and gently squeezes his hand, “you know I'd do it for you again. I'd go through the same thing all over again just to see you in the end. I wouldn't change a thing.”

He concludes with a shrug, as if what he’s just said means nothing, as if he didn’t just completely open his heart to his twin and fully reached Luigi's. He grins, his smile and his gaze full of love and devotion, as if he wanted to proclaim to the four winds how much he adores his little brother, but it was enough for him that Luigi knew.

Luigi, of course, needs no more to be moved. His lower lip trembles and his eyes are misting again, this time because of the tenderness that his sibling’s words have awakened inside him, but he tries to keep his throat clear.

“And-I t-too, Mario,” he says from the heart. “I w-would do it again t-too.”

Without letting go of his fingers or lowering his arm, Mario lets out a moved chuckle.

“Oh, Lu, you don't have to. I know how much you fear ghosts. You’re so brave for facing them all, but I’d never ask you to do it again.”

“I would,” Luigi assures him, nodding vehemently. “For you, I would.”

This time it's Mario's turn to get emotional. Luigi can see it in the way his eyes shine and his lips purse, in the unhurried way he takes a breath and releases it just as slowly. As if he can't believe his luck in having a younger twin like him.

But the lucky one, of course, is Luigi.

“Ti ho già detto quanto ti voglio bene, Lulu?” stammers Mario, his voice faltering.

Now it’s Luigi who, unable to contain himself, giggles tenderly, so much more moved than he feels able to express.

“Ti ho detto io quanto ti voglio bene, Mario?” he replies in the same tone.

The two chuckle in unison and close their eyes. Their foreheads touch, with extreme care due to Mario's bandages, but that doesn't stop him from placing his fingers on the back of Luigi's head to draw him closer. With their hands joined, they laugh and cry in silence, without haste, for everything they need is right there in front of them.

Mario is the first to bend down to put his arms around Luigi. He rests his head on his shoulder and embraces him tightly, squeezing him hard on purpose to make him laugh. Luigi, delighted to receive one of his older sibling’s bear hugs again, can only squeeze him back with the same enthusiasm.

He’s missed him so much.

“It feels so good to have you back with me, little brother,” Mario whispers in his ear, and Luigi thinks he could melt.

“It feels so good to have you back in my arms, big brother,” he replies, cuddling him.

Mario giggles, unwilling to release him, and rubs his head against his shoulder. Luigi is even more moved when he realizes that his twin is snuggling up against his chest.

“I swear you’re just as soft as a pillow,” Mario mutters without opening his eyes, his voice a little muffled.

Luigi lets out a soft chuckle at his brother's attitude and the serene smile that adorns his lips. Without a doubt, after all that’s happened and having stayed awake long enough to tell his story and for Luigi to tend to his wounds, the time has come for Mario to finally rest.

Judging by how unwilling his sibling seems to open his eyes again, Luigi gets that he’s beaten him to the decision. Laughing again, he holds Mario close and strokes his head gently.

“If you want, I can be your pillow,” he offers in a whisper, cradling him lovingly.

“That would be very nice.”

Mario's voice sounds weak, barely a murmur. Luigi knows very well that his twin is about to fall asleep, so, without letting go of him, he begins to lie down. He’s grateful that the professor has ceded his room to them so that they can have some privacy and a place to give in to drowsiness, and he’s pleasantly surprised at how comfortable the mattress is on which he’s now reclined. He looks down at Mario and what he sees fills him with warmth and tenderness.

His older brother, lying right on top of him, has curled up against his chest, his extremely placid expression and his slightly parted mouth are clear indicators that he’s already in the land of dreams. Luigi exhales and holds him tight, wondering if he’ll ever come to understand the magnitude of everything his sibling has lived through, of everything he’s suffered, for him.

Sensing his grip, Mario sighs in his sleep and clings to the strap of Luigi's overalls, who in turn sighs, his heart swelling so much he thinks it could burst. After that long and scary night, he could ask for nothing more than to have his twin like this, resting in his arms, finally safe and feeling so secure and warm that he immediately dropped off. Love floods his body when Luigi, taking care not to wake him, leans down to press his lips to Mario's forehead, on a spot free of bandages, and keeps them there for a few seconds, wishing that they can transmit to his brother all the peace, serenity and affection that he’s experiencing at the moment. With luck, they’ll bring him golden dreams.

“Sogni d’oro, fratellone,” he whispers, each one of his words filled to the brim with love.

Feeling the new breath escaping from Mario's half-open mouth, Luigi is satisfied and, without letting go, he lays his head on the pillow and closes his eyes.

Now that the nightmare is over, he too can afford to take a nap.

After all, he’s finally with him again.

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sebastianswallows · 11 months ago

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The Little Death — 8. Forms of bitterness

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: smut, fluff, noncon, dom/sub, dom!Feyd, oral (f receiving), felching, cockwarming, and more inkpie (poor reader can't catch a break)

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu

No sweeteners will cloak some forms of bitterness. — Bene Gesserit Coda

He just about dragged her back to his room — their room — half-naked through the halls. She screamed at him and bit and scratched his arm, but Feyd took no notice. He mostly enjoyed it, in fact. When he pushed her into the room and locked the doors behind them, she calmed down. There was no point in fighting him anymore.

Her dress hung on in tatters, slathered around her figure like a spill of ink, her hair in tangles among loosened threads. Feyd hardly wore anything, but what he’d thrown on during their little journey he threw off now in a hurry on his way to her.

“Stop, stop. Enough!”

“You don’t tell me when it’s enough,” he growled as he gripped her by the throat and kept on walking, pushing her toward the bed. “I tell you when it’s enough.”

“You’re a beast, just like your brother,” she hissed.

And as if that were a curse, it weakened all his muscles. He let her go and looked into her eyes, weak and wounded, before the anger came. Feyd clenched his teeth, a pit of shiny black between pale lips, and shoved her. She fell onto the mattress with a huff.

“You’ll pay for that,” he promised, and horrors were rolling behind his eyes, images of what he could do to her even without his daggers — where were they, anyway? He must’ve left them at the dinner table.

But when he reached down and touched her again he found his grip was gentle, almost a caress. She seemed surprised as well and in her wary eyes, he noticed fear. He’d never seen it quite like that before… Not even when they first met. She seemed more determined then, ready to meet death, but now, dazed and aching from what they’d done before, she didn’t seem sure of anything. He held her jaw loosely enough that she could pull herself away if she wished to, but she didn’t.

Feyd looked at the bite marks and bruises he’d left on her and couldn’t help the slight pull of a smile.

“You’re quite the canvas,” he rasped with genuine admiration in his voice. He loved to see the splatter of blood on the white sands of the arena, but she was the closest he’d ever come to making art. “I want to make more…”

“Let go of me,” she whispered and scrambled backwards on the bed. “You’ve had enough fun for one day.”

He followed her onto the bed, then grabbed her ankle and pulled her back toward him. His body covered hers and his lips swallowed her little scream. She tasted sweet and bitter and there was a hint of teeth — his, hers, it was hard to tell; their mouths melded as one. His hands started roaming her body and she nearly jumped in fear or anticipation but he only caressed her. His palms went from brushing up and down her breasts to squeezing them, then travelled lower. He gripped her waist and held her tightly to the bed, possessed her in the only way he really could, and felt her fragile innards giving way beneath his hands. It was a rare thing to feel power over her… To see real fear in her eyes — not of his weapons, not of his status as Planetary Governor, but of him. He had nothing more than his hands and teeth, and she did too, both of them in their naked skin on a black bed, and everything they felt, they felt only for each other.

His hands moved down to cup her hips while he bent down to kiss her. She smelled salty from her tears and her lips were dry and flaky but she was more perfect now to him than she’d ever been before. He moaned against her and finally pulled away, opening his eyes to find her breathless. She frowned up at him from the centre of the soft halo of her hair but Feyd could only smile. There was a sliver of blackness between her lips and he realised with great delight that he had left it there.

“How pretty you are like this,” he whispered, reaching up to brush his thumb across her cheek.

“Why even say that to me?” she muttered, glaring at him.

“I thought you witches were supposed to be clever,” said Feyd with a smirk, but he couldn’t help a certain fondness in his tone. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Enlighten me, Black Sun.”

He brushed the tip of his nose against hers and smiled as he whispered, “Because I want you pretty desperately right now. I’ve wanted you before but seeing you in pain, hearing you scream, tasting it on you…” He sucked in a quick breath as he looked down at her lips with lidded eyes. “And feeling how tight you got all around me… I want that. I want it again.”

She barely had the chance to squirm before Feyd grabbed her by the neck, and although she instinctively held her breath he didn’t squeeze her. He just held her there while he nudged her legs apart and set himself between them. His smooth pale arm was right against her chest and he could feel how warm she was, could feel her heart, and how frantically it was beating. He lowered himself once again to kiss her and then, like a snake, slid lower. He pressed his lips against her trembling chin, then kissed her breasts while his other hand went up to tangle itself in her hair. She groaned when he started pulling on it, but she was a good girl and understood. She bent her head and arched her back for him.

Feyd pulled her puckered nipple in his mouth and sucked on it as if he’d missed it those few minutes since they walked from there to here. And he had. Now that he knew what to expect from her body — what textures, what tastes, how she’d respond to every bit of attention — he could focus only on enjoying the experience. Her nipples had a waxy smoothness to them, a truly special bit of skin, and so sensitive that within seconds of being in his mouth, they hardened. He imagined for a moment how greatly the experience would improve if he could suckle milk from her and he moaned embarrassingly loudly at the thought. His cock hardened again and he brushed it up and down her thigh, but he didn’t let himself get carried away just yet. He had other plans.

He let go of her neck but kept his fist around her hair and as he went lower down her body she was forced to bend. She cursed him and clawed at his arm, her feet pressing down against the bed, but Feyd assaulted her body with kisses as if none of that mattered. As if he was used to taming Bene Gesserit witches like her. He looked up into her eyes and smirked with his lips above her tummy, tongue leaving sticky circles on her belly button, while with his free hand, he cupped her hip to hold her still. She didn’t seem to realise what he meant to do until right before he did it.

“N-no, no, don’t —”

He pressed a deep and loving kiss over her mound and at the top of her slit and then with a stretch of his tongue he was lapping at her clit. She was slathered in a mess of white — from her — and black — from him — and as he closed his eyes and pulled their mixed juices in his mouth he wondered how similar their shades were to the skies of Giedi Prime.

“Ugh, you’re a beast,” she muttered, twisting between the sharp discomfort at her scalp and the pleasure that throbbed through her anew.

“That’s… twice you’ve… called me that,” muttered Feyd between long, suckling kisses at her twitching little nub. “I still have to punish you… But later.”

She was so swollen and flushed, her body opening almost like a flower or the ripe flesh of a fruit. He buried his tongue inside her and she gave a high and girlish yelp that sounded halfway between a sob and laughter. With a gentleness on the cusp of veneration, Feyd pulled her lips into his mouth and kissed around them, pulling out of her the cum he’d spilt before. She trembled in his grasp at the feeling of it being sucked out of her and slinking out. Her back arched, feet scrambling against the black and silky sheets as she twisted herself in even more impossible ways, caught between trying to get away and coming closer.

His chest was pressed into the bed as he half-kneeled between her legs, his body completely forgotten while he focused all on her. The bitterness of his black cum was coated with her sweetness. She’d kept it warm for him. It dripped onto his tongue in dollops and he moaned at the memory of pushing it up into her, of giving her almost more than she could take. And now that he had her at his mercy, twisted in delicious pain while she clung and clawed at his shoulders, he could service her softest parts with his lips and teeth and tongue and he’d never felt more like a man.

When all he could taste was flesh and her cries had petered out to whimpers, Feyd ended his deep kisses with a few long licks at her hole. She cried out more urgently and her nails dug into his skin, and then a rush of shivers that started along her spine rose up to her throat and betrayed that she had cum again.

“Good girl,” he whispered against her clenching hole, soothing it with little kisses that kept her moaning and on edge. “What a sweet thing you are, my darling…”

She whimpered at his words, just like he intended. Her hips twisted, taking her away from him, but Feyd merely moved to kiss her inner thigh. She was wet there too and sticky, her warm skin coated with a mix of sweat, softer in quite a different way than her tender hole had been.

“Nobody gets to kiss you here often, do they?” he asked in a rough whisper. “Or here,” he said, moving up again to chase her most sensitive parts. “Mmmm… What a shame.”

She twitched right before his eyes, both of her holes tightening shyly. Just the sight of it took his breath away. She gave a wordless, weakened moan and pressed her heel against his shoulder, trying to push him off of her again, but Feyd cupped the inside of her knee to hold her still and leaned down to kiss her swollen parts once more.

“S-stop,” she groaned. “Aaah! And l-let me go…”

“Hmmm?” he asked with a cocked brow.

When he looked at her, he understood. She was uncomfortable. He had gripped her hair perhaps a bit too tightly and even the soft bed was not enough to leave her feeling good. He liked seeing her suffer but he told himself he didn’t like a fuss, so he eased the tightness of his fingers and slowly released her from his grasp. The relief in her sigh was almost childish, so endearing. Feyd smiled as he braced himself up on his arms above her.

She was lying tired and supine, her chest heaving, her breasts sore and reddened as if blushing. He braced his arms on either side of her and leaned down to lay one loving kiss on each puckered nipple, ignoring her protesting whimpers. Then, just as he had promised earlier, he slotted himself between her legs while holding her face still before him. He looked into her eyes — fear and anger melded there, hiding something from him — and held her gaze as he pressed his cock into her body once again.

She moaned and arched to get away but Feyd would not allow her. He cupped her jaw with one hand while the other was tangled in her hair. And whether she glared up at him angrily or closed her eyes in pain he was always there, above her, watching every emotion flicker across her face as he went deeper, deeper, into the tight channel that was so familiar now but still so different. She was warmer, even softer, and so, so tender... He could feel her used hole crying around his cock, lathering his balls with cloying, sticky juices. She blushed at the way it sounded when he worked his way up into her, but Feyd couldn’t even find it in him to smile or grin with the smugness he expected to feel — after all, he had done that to her, he’d been the one to bring her to this state, his stern and fierce lady Bene Gesserit... Instead, he was in awe at the sensations, at everything, from the way her body felt beneath him — her vulnerable stomach flexing beneath his, her heart beating quickly, hands clawing at his shoulders — to the blushing sweetness of her face, her shaky voice, her body’s scent, the full experience of her. He half-believed she’d managed to cast some spell because at that moment he was fully enchanted.

With a groan, he reached her end. She cried out a warble of sounds he could hardly make sense of and flexed her body in a last attempt to get away, but Feyd held her. He let his weight press her down just slightly more into the mattress and shushed her whimpers while underneath he spread his knees and positioned himself more firmly.

“Does it hurt?” he rasped in a close whisper, thumb brushing her frown away.

“Y-yes,” she whispered with bubbling resentment, refusing to look into his eyes.

He smiled and let his gaze traverse her face from her creased brows to her red parted lips. Sweat pooled in the small of his back making him shiver, but beneath him, she felt feverishly warm. He pulled back gently and stopped, soaking in the feeling of her core clenching around his tip, then thrust hard into her again. She moaned in pain, or perhaps pleasure, as Feyd built up the pace. He rocked into her body as steadily as a crashing wave but held her firmly in his arms and slowly began to kiss her, sipping at her lips and cutting her sweet sounds short. His muscles trembled from the pleasure of feeling her pain so completely, from the way her intimate parts tightened around him, bruised and battered and sore, to the look of ecstatic agony upon her face and the sound of it that kept pouring forth.

“Shhh… there, there,” he soothed her, his voice low and heavy with the strain of holding back. “Almost done with you… You’re nearly there, aren’t you, my sweet?”

“No,” she pleaded, head shaking side to side between his hands. “No, no, no more, stop!”

He kissed her again and tightened his arms around her, holding her as still beneath him as he could while he started thrusting harder, shoving himself into her body with all the desperation of a man who wished to disappear, to be forgotten. She gasped against his lips, back arching, heart thundering beneath his own, and when he heard her cry out louder and felt her core clench tight enough to hurt he knew that she was close to cumming.

“There you are, that’s it, just a bit longer,” he whispered, kissing now her cheeks, her chin, along her jaw.

“Feyd,” she gasped with eyes closed and head pressed into the mattress, hands clinging to his waist mindlessly even as she seemed to want to pull away.

He cursed and bit into her shoulder when he felt her start to cum. Her hole closed up around him and he couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, and instead allowed her to be shattered by her pleasure. Her cervix nipped at his crown and her lips kissed his swollen sac. Feyd clung to her just as tightly as she held on to him. His own orgasm took him by surprise and he found himself crying out against her skin, his mouth full of her taste and her voice soft and close to his ear. He spread his legs slightly and hers too with the same motion as he settled deeper still, and then after a sudden burst of warmth within his loins, his balls clenched closer to his body and released what cum he had left into her. She gasped at the feeling of his cock twitching deep inside her, at his inky cum filling her again, but she was too weak to complain, too tired to even scratch him. All he heard now were her whimpers and small echoes of his name.

He held her tightly as he spilt his seed then gradually eased off of her. He could taste iron in his mouth — her blood — but if she was in pain he couldn’t see it. When he raised himself up on his elbows she looked dazed, half-asleep, but her lidded eyes looked sated, a feeling he knew all too well. Feyd smiled and kissed her as he eased himself to the side, his cock still held inside her, their mix of cum dripping down onto her thighs. He didn’t notice that his hands were shaking until he brushed the hair out of her face.

“You’re smiling,” she quietly said, her voice reduced to a delicious rasp.

“Mhmmm,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across her lips.

“Why?”

“Your mouth. It’s stained all black and red from me.”

She reached up to wipe her lips of the mix of her blood and his inky residue, but he caught her wrist and laid it down between them.

“I like the way it looks.”

His witch groaned and closed her eyes in something that was meant as disapproval, but Feyd couldn’t find it in him to be upset.

“You can rest now.”

“You permit it?” she asked archly.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “I do.”

With a tired smile, Feyd cupped her messy head and tucked it underneath his chin, then he wrapped his leg around her. She was too exhausted to react and he could feel her fast falling asleep, but for a moment it was as if they both felt the same thing. The quiet in the room spoke to them, their skin chilled underneath the same dry current, and under only a thin layer of skin, their blood flowed to the same heartbeat. With the last bit of strength he had, Feyd wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled his face into her hair. If he had dreams that night, he wanted them to only be of her.

#Feyd #Feyd Rautha Harkonnen #Feyd Rautha #Dune #Dune part 2 #Dune fanfiction #Dune imagine #Feyd Rautha x reader #Feyd x reader #Feyd Rautha fanfic #Feyd Rautha imagine #feyd rautha smut #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;littledeath

302 notes · View notes

bandgie · 1 year ago

Text

Before Class

virgin!hueningkai x fem!reader

synopsis: You were Kai's lifelong bully, and you weren't planning on stopping your harassment towards him. As you have got older though, you've had to change your strategies. Now that you're both in college, there been quite a few tips you've learned on how to humiliate Kai.

warnings: MDNI 18+, DUBIOUS, college au, public oral (m receiving), handjob, bully reader, kai is sensitive (he doesn't have a backbone), cum eating, degrading, genital degradation (m receiving), begging, dom!reader, sub!Kai, mentions of Yeonjun, idk

2.6k words

Getting to class early was a must, parking was horrible after a certain time. You sat on the second floor of the library pretending to work on your assignments. Instead, you were observing his large frame hunched over a desk. Kai hadn't seen you when he walked in, and you're grateful for that. Not because you were nervous or embarrassed for what you did to him just a few days ago, but because it left you room to plan.

Making Huening Kai cry was always a goal of yours. It was so easy when you were in elementary school. All you had to do was pull on his hair, throw some sand in his eyes and the waterworks would begin. As you've gotten older though, it wasn't as simple. You resorted to cursing him out, getting other kids to join in on you, but he was a tough cookie.

There was just something about his tears that excited you. How red his nose got, the quiver in his bottom lip. Like art honestly, he was beautiful in his rawest form. There was something wrong with you for sure, maybe you needed to see someone for your obsession with Kai. How could you though, when he made it so effortless for you to keep harassing him?

You briefly thought of letting him go today, but your resolve was quickly dissipated when someone approached him. She was cheery, seemingly happy looking at Kai. He stood up quickly and awkwardly smiled at her. You assumed she must be a classmate talking about work, but when she made him laugh, your chest tightened.

They had to be more than classmates, it wasn’t like it was often someone would approach you outside of class either. Friends maybe? But with how pink Kai's cheeks had gotten, you think there might be a little crush going on. You hastily pack your papers, shove your notebook and folder into your backpack and standup from your table.

Jealousy is probably the right word to use, but there was no way you would admit that. You just can’t stand seeing Kai smiling, hate how his lips curl and his teeth shine in the artificial light. He would look much better sobbing, and you are planning on making that happen sooner rather than later.

Your wedges click on the ground as you approach the two. You can feel your blood rising hearing Kai's soft responses. You don't even need to speak to announce your arrival, you can see Kai's eyes widen in fear.

Good.

"Oh Kai! I just wanted to pop in and say hi," you smile sweetly at both of them. She spins to see you, returning a friendly smile. She opens her mouth to speak, mostly likely to introduce herself, but you don't think you can fake your persona much longer. "I just needed to steal him from you if you don't mind." You reach for Kai's sleeve and pull him towards you.

He hesitantly trudges to you, his eyes begging at his friend to save him. "Oh when were you going to be done? We had to work on-" You spare her a glance to interrupt her, "Actually, I think it'll take a while. Isn't that right Hyuka?"

Kai stiffens at the sound of his nickname, one he hadn't heard in years. His terrified eyes dart to your own before turning back to his friend. "Y-Yeah," his voice is shaky. "I'm sorry, it'll just be a- a moment. I'll catch you after class." The girl eyes you warily, her gaze landing on your grip on Kai's sleeve. Rather than voicing her concern, she nods, "Sure. See ya soon then.”

You turn on your heels and pull Kai along with you. Kai can easily keep up thanks to his long legs, but he's trying to subtly slow his steps so he can delay his bad treatment. He has no idea what you have in store for him, and to be honest, neither do you. All you can think about is how easily he spoke to her, how eager he seemed. Kai has grown into an attractive man, that much you can admit. You just hate knowing he's beginning to catch the eyes of others.

It's selfish, but you want him to think about only you. Whether it's from fear, anxiety, hatred, you need him to think about you as often as you think about him. After all, it isn't fair that you're the only one obsessed.

You spot the all-gender restroom and quickly take cover there. There’s nobody inside, it’s still early in the morning. You shove Kai into a stall and squeeze/crowd in yourself before locking the door.

Being this close to him is nothing new, but being in such a confined space is definitely something you hadn't done before. Kai's figure towers over you, he could easily overpower you and leave. Instead, he keeps his hand by his sides and nervously eyes you. He's expecting you to berate him, to remind him of what a loser he is and how no one could ever stand the thought of him.

Instead, you drop to your knees. Kai's eyes widen in disbelief. You grab his belt, quickly loosening it. He moves to block you, gently pulling your hands away. "What are you doing!? Wait! Don't-" You look up at him and sneer, "Don't fucking tell me what to do. Move your hands."

For the first time in ages, Kai disobeys. He shakes his head and locks his arms over his crotch. "You can't," his voice is pleading. "I have to go to class, an-and I haven't... no one’s really..." He trails off. The redness in his face says it all. "Oh I get it," you smirk. "Are you a little virgin?"

At first Kai doesn't answer, but the pinch of your nails on his hands make him yelp. "Y-Yes..." his voice is small, weak. It sends shivers down your spine. You peel his hands away and leave them at his sides. He lets you, too petrified from his confession to really care anymore.

"I shouldn't be surprised," you start. "You're probably too busy jerking off, watching porn like a loser. I bet you don't even have feeling in your dick anymore." You unloop his belt from the holes and slowly unbutton his pants. Kai clenches and unclenches his fists. You can hear him breathing heavily above you, and as pathetic as it is, it turns you on.

You pull his pants all the way down to his ankles and face his navy blue boxers. Experimentally, you let your hand rub over his crotch. You grip and rub over his limp dick, hearing him inhale sharply. "You're liking this huh? Hah, telling me to stop when you wanted it the whole time." Rather than answering, Kai bucks his hips to you.

You laugh at him, still making sure to apply pressure to his groin. "Fucking slut, bet you'd let anyone touch your cock. That lonely huh?" You grab the waistband of his boxers with your other hand. He stops you before you can pull them down. "Please," he begs. You look up at his glossy eyes, his sweaty forehead, the hair sticking so prettily to it.

Growing irritated with his refusals, you give a soft flick to his cock. Kai jolts at the sensation, even whimpers from pain. "Ask me that again, I'll bite it off," you threaten. This time he doesn’t fight when you pull his dick out. The space between your legs throb at the sight, and you lick your lips eagerly.

His cock is twitching from stimulation, a flushed pink at the tip. There are a few blue veins that pop out from the paleness, a stark contrast to the dark pubes above it. At least he trims, you think. You didn't want pubic hair stuck in your teeth once you were finished with him.

Kai's legs tremble in anticipation, and you run your hands up and down his thighs. You carefully take his tip in first, letting the salty precum cover your tastebuds. The warmth of your mouth has Kai jolt, the feeling completely foreign to him. You steady yourself on his upper thighs as you start taking him deeper. The back of your throat opens for more room, and it doesn't take long to feel him stretch it out.

Your movements are slow as you drag your lips down Kai's length. His cock feels smooth in your mouth, and you place your tongue on the underside of him. He groans when you deep throat him, and his hips slightly thrust upwards to chase your mouth. A surprised gasp tumbles out of your mouth from the force, making you pull away completely.

You angrily look up at Kai's flushed face, "Did I say you could move?" Kai lets out a soft sob and shakes his head, "No! I'm sorry. Oh fuck I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You can see the tears in his eyes, the blush on his face. It's tempting to keep making him feel bad, to get those salty tears down his face, but you take pity on him. Your hand reaches for his dick and gives it a few pumps.

He twitches and moans, still apologizing for his behavior. "I'll let it go this time since you're a virgin or whatever," you start. "But do that again and I'll leave you with your small dick like this, and no one will help you out like I am." Kai nods absentmindedly, his focus completely on your fingers.

It's hard to admit, but you really like hearing Kai moan. His breathless whimpers, his choked sobs, the way he says your name like he's begging you to stop and keep going. There was no way, after years of bullying Kai, that you would willingly place yourself between his legs. Yet here you are, knees bruising up from the hard tile and your pussy throbbing from neglect.

A wet sound comes out when you place his cock back where it was in your mouth. It's lewd, but the noise is easily drained out by Kai's groans of appreciation. You can tell he's focusing on remaining still with the way his hands are bunching up his shirt. A smile finds your lips when a harsh suck makes his cries echo in the bathroom.

"You're lucky no one's in here," you say when you briefly pull away. One hand strokes him and the other plays with his balls simultaneously. "Imagine if that bitch saw you now? You think she'd still like you after seeing what a whore you are?" Kai shakes his head at your questions. "N-No."

You hum in satisfaction with his admission, placing kisses on his cock. Before you have the chance to take him back in your mouth, you hear the door to the restroom open. Footsteps echo through the previously empty room, and Kai looks like he's seen a ghost. He looks down at you, a small desperate shake in his head. Don't.

You only grin in response, eagerly forcing his cock down your throat. Kai jolts and his mouth flies open in a silent moan. Your movements are much faster now, magnifying the pornographic noises coming from your mouth. You push even further. You unhinge your jaw and take him deep, bruising the back of your throat.

Kai's pubes tickle your nose when you hit his pelvis, and you gag around his girth. Spit dribbles down your chin, landing on your thighs and the floor. You feel nothing but arousal when you realize the unsuspecting witness has stopped moving, attentively listening to the lewd sounds echoing from your stall.. Kai notices too and shakes his head aggressively. He can’t control the tears collecting at the corner of his eyes anymore, sending waves of pleasure to your core.

"If you're gonna fuck, can you do it somewhere else? People are tryna piss," the bystander finally calls out. You recognize the voice immediately, and so does Kai. Yeonjun sounds rather irritated, not bothering to wait for a reply as he leaves. Kai slumps in relief when he hears the restroom door swing shut again, only managing to let out a groan when he tries to speak.

Even without the extra audience you still put your best show on for Kai. Your fingernails are gripping his thighs, drool hanging off your bottom lip as you keep throatfucking yourself on Kai's dick. Kai bites his lower lip so harshly he thinks it'll bleed, but that pain is nothing compared to the pleasure you're giving him.

You can feel your arousal seep through your underwear, down the inner parts of your thighs. You think about fucking him, how good his cock would feel stretching you out. He probably wouldn't even know how to fuck you right. You might have to bounce on his cock while he sits on the toilet. As dirty as that thought is, there's more pleasure in watching Kai writhe above you.

His length twitches in your mouth. You use your hand to stroke the parts your mouth can't reach, and you maintain a steady rhythm. Kai's whines get more and more out of control and without thinking, he brushes the hair out of your face. There's a delicate moment when he locks eyes with you, making sure to get a good look at your face as he cums in your mouth.

The hot spurts make you gag, but you force your mouth to stay on his cock so as to not waste a single drop. Kai looks like bliss with his eyes slanted and mouth open in a long moan. He’s still looking at you, almost as if he actually wants to see you. The thought makes your stomach flip.

You purposely take a long time pulling your mouth off his cock, his cum still settling in your mouth. Your knees scream in protest as you stand to face Kai. You wrap your hand at the back on his neck and drag him down to your height. Your other hand finds his mouth and pulls it open as you purse your lips.

"Say ahh..."

Kai's cum leaks from your mouth in thick globs, landing on his tongue. He grimaces at the taste but keeps still. His lips are so close to your own, and for a second you debate kissing him. But then you’d miss how he swallows his own cum, how he would cough as the thick substance slides down his throat.

You spit the remaining cum into his mouth before licking your own lips. Kai covers his mouth and squeezes his eyes as he tries to swallow it all without gagging, tears sliding down his face. Your thumb wipes one away and you bring it to your mouth, adding to the salty taste.

"It tasted good huh, Hyuka?"

He opens his eyes and shakes his head pitifully, making you laugh. You do the honors of pulling Kai's pants and boxers back up and adjusting his belt. You tap his clothed cock a few times just to see him flinch from the sensitivity.

Your cunt is still sopping wet, crying to be touched. You might have to ignore it for now, but you know this won't be the last time you play with Kai. Kai silently watches as you pull your makeup out of your bag, fascinated by how quickly you make yourself look normal again despite being wrecked on his cock mere moments ago.

You snap your mirror closed and open the stall door, sauntering away without a second look. "Better get to class then Hyuka. You don’t wanna be late.”

a/n: I love huening kai and I feel like there's not enough writings about him!! I'm planning on making this a little series, so stay tuned for that!

proofreader/editor: @then-make-me (thank you!!)

update!: second part here

update 2: third part here

537 notes · View notes

chiharuhashibira · 2 years ago

Text

What about a shorts featuring your fave Kimetsu No Yaiba teacher?

But make it Professor X Student 👀

Whew~ Here we go with the final part of Special Classes >////<

Have you enjoyed your History, Art, and PE classes? Yes? Oh that's good cause you'll also love your Math class 🤭

You are 22yo here, and a graduating student. Sanemi is 27.

Let's start now! 🌸

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔: 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Content Warnings: ProfessorXStudent/Suggestive/Curse Words/Dom Sanemi/Degredation/Blow job/Matured Content/18+/Sexually Explicit/Blood/Violence

Minors DNI.

(Image is not mine, credits to the rightful owner)

🌸𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒛𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂🌸

"Oi! That's not the answer! Have you listened to anything that I taught earlier?! Go back to your seat!"

You sat there and watched as Sanemi, your math professor, cast a critical eye over the room. You started to feel anxious because he might ask you to solve the problem in front of the class. And unfortunately, as if fate were conspiring against you, his purple eyes eventually landed on you.

Sanemi sat on your desk while maintaining an expression of irritation. "And what do you say, Y/L/N-san? Why don't you solve that math problem for me?" He asked the question sarcastically. You gave a small nod before rising from your seat, at which point you noticed that your chest felt heavy. You are aware that Sanemi is still glancing in your direction.

After a minute of solving, you turned to face the class and your professor, who was still sitting on your desk, looking amused, which surprised you. You took a deep breath and mustered up all of your courage before you spoke.

"f(x) is a quadratic function, and its graph is a parabola. As a result, it is not a one-to-one function because the parabola can be interrupted by horizontal lines at two different locations. The correct answer is a D."

Sanemi got to his feet and started walking towards you while softly clapping his hands. Your expression remained expressionless, and you experienced shyness despite the fact that you were aware that many eyes were staring at you at this very moment. You felt an arm stretched across your shoulder, and when you looked up, you noticed that Sanemi's face had finally stopped showing signs of annoyance.

"Woah! I thought this class was full of dumb brats! You surprised me, Y/L/N-san!"

You bowed your head respectfully and then proceeded to return to your seat. You no longer feel the same level of anxiety in your chest.

Because you are so accustomed to the harsh methods of teaching that Sanemi uses, these compliments seemed like a miracle that you would only hear once in your entire life.

"Sensei is so intimidating! Even if I do know the answer, I often forget it."

"So true! He's so harsh, and he is so anno—"

"Sssh, Aoi-san, if sensei hears you, he'll definitely make your life hell."

You couldn't help but overhear the conversations of the other students when your math class ended. What they are saying is true. Sanemi Shinazugawa isn't the nicest professor at the university. Oh well, he isn't soft at all, and he makes sure that you all know it.

Compared to the angel and most loved history teacher, Kyojuro, Sanemi's class is definitely an embodiment of hell. Especially if you're not studying well.

And as for you, you cannot fail any of your subjects. You are not the friendly type and you prefer to be alone than socialise. If you fail, you'll have no choice but to repeat the same subject with different people, and that would be so tiring.

Also, you already work outside your class hours aside from maintaining your scholarship. You can't lose all of that just because the professor teaching your math subject is the infamous Sanemi Shinazugawa.

After that day, on which you had successfully astonished Sanemi, a few days passed. It's well past midnight, yet you're still at the convenience store, where you are conducting an inventory check. The next thing you know, a man with a beard is grabbing your hand.

"Hey missy~ It looks like you're so busy. Need help?"

You pulled your hand away from him and took a step back. You felt a shiver when you managed to see that the man looked wasted. "No sir. Thank you." Despite the fear that started to bubble up in your stomach, you still tried to be as respectful as you are.

You were about to go when suddenly the man grabbed your hand again, tighter this time. You yelled but realised that the other employees were inside the stock room. You didn't want to shout, as you didn't want to scare the other customers, so you tried to squirm from his hold.

"Sir, let go of me."

"Come with me. I'll give you a better time counting how many times I can make you cum."

You were astounded by what he said and felt the tears almost fall from your eyes. But then, before they could fall, you suddenly heard a familiar voice that astounded you. You looked up, and there Sanemi was standing behind the man. His nails dug into the man's shoulder as he stared at him with fury in his eyes.

"One, I hate perverts. And two, I hate perverts who use numbers to rizz a poor kid. Let go of her before I make you rethink all of your life choices, you fucker."

And after only hearing his voice, the bearded man stumbled on his way out of the convenience store. And the good thing is, no commotion happened.

"You okay?" Sanemi said, pointing at your reddened arm. You looked back at him and noticed that he wasn't wearing his professor's outfit. The man looked so cool with his messy hair. He even looked cooler with that black leather jacket over his white shirt.

So, my professor looks like a normal person outside class...

You immediately recalled how tough he was earlier when he tried to save you from that pervert, and this sprang to mind before you could even think of anything else. You had no idea that he was capable of acting in such a way. And with that, you felt your heart racing as you felt heat coming up your cheeks when your eyes met.

"Hello?" He waved in front of your dumbfounded face and raised an eyebrow. It seems like Sanemi doesn't recognise you. So you shook your head and bowed in front of him.

"Sensei, thank you for saving me!"

"Hmm? Sensei?"

"I'm Y/L/N, Y/N, from the university. You're my math prof—"

"Oh, okay?"

You looked up once again and saw Sanemi looking away. He seemed preoccupied with the can of beer in front of him. Awkwardness filled the air. I think I shouldn't have told him I was his student! I hate how awkward I am when my mouth opens. You sighed and decided to thank him once again.

"Shinazugawa-sensei, thank you again. I'll get back to work."

Before you could head back to the storage room, Sanemi spoke up in a monotone.

"Uh, what time does your shift end?"

You were astounded by his question. Why would he ask that? You turned to look at him, but then you bumped your head on his chest. Apologising, you stepped back and stared into his lilac eyes as you spoke up.

"My shift's done in 30 minutes, sensei."

"It's late. Do you have someone to pick you up?"

You looked at Sanemi as if he were doing something unusual. Oh well, he does. Usually his mouth is full of curses, and his tone is always angry. But now it's different. Despite being monotone, it has a hint of... care?

"No sensei. I take the bus home."

"Okay. I'll just wait for you then."

"Uh why?"

"It's dangerous going home this late. And you're my student, so you're my responsibility. I'll drive you home."

Your heart started to toss and turn inside your chest, which almost made you want to throw up because of too much fluster. Sanemi is your saviour, and now he suddenly looks so cool that you can't take your eyes off him.

You didn't protest, as he is right. It's dangerous out there, especially since there was a man who tried to abduct you earlier.

A part of you felt a bit happy, as no one had shown you this care before, not even your parents. And with that last thought, you managed to end your shift.

You changed into a skirt and a shirt. As you walked out of the convenience store, you saw your math professor leaning against his car. "Three minutes late." He said this, checking his wristwatch before looking back at you.

You swear you could see the astonishment on his face when his eyes landed on you. But of course, that quickly faded away as he stood in front of you. "Sensei, I'm sorry if I made you wait."

"Just a favor. Don't call me sensei outside the university. People might think something's wrong if they heard you and saw you enter my car this late at night."

"Oh, sorry, Shinazugawa-san."

"Much better."

He opened the door for you, and his gestures shocked you. Last week, you saw how he almost threw a book at one of the students, and now here he is, being a gentleman. It's so not him.

You entered his car and were greeted with a minty, manly scent. Wow, this is Shinazugawa-san's vibe, for sure. You looked around and managed to settle down comfortably on the seat beside him. You tied your hair back and stared at Sanemi as he started the car. His hands looked so big. If that bearded pervert ever attempted to harm you, he wouldn't be able to withstand a punch from this man.

"Do you have a hand fetish or something?"

He asked that you cut off your thoughts. You looked away and apologised once again. Sanemi brushed it off and started driving.

"So where do you live?" He asked as his eyes peeled off the road. You told him your address, and he went on to ask you why you decided to work in a place too far from where you live.

"Oh, I have no choice. I need to grind for my future."

You felt like Sanemi wanted to say something, but he eventually stopped himself. And of course, you didn't say anything further. You don't want to make the travel more awkward than it already is. And when we say awkward, it's because you only answer when asked as if you're reading a script.

"So, what can you say about our classes? Don't tell me that I'm rude, 'cause I'm sure well aware of that."

Sanemi was the one who decided to break the silence. You played with the hem of your skirt and looked at your lap. You actually don't want to answer him, as you never wanted to offend him in any way. You sighed, and finally,

"You're cool."

"Oh. That's new." A small smile broke on Sanemi's lips, and that made you blush. Before you could say anything, Sanemi spoke up in a low tone. "I know that you're just saying that because of earlier, though. But thanks."

"Mmm..."

"Are you scared of me at class?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I study well. Why would I be afraid of you?"

"Good answer. You know, I'm tired of fucktard students who think my subject's not important."

And there, the curse words began. "I see."

"Are you really this silent? LOL"

You almost laughed when Sanemi verbally said LOL as it sounded funny. You tried to stop yourself from giggling, and you looked away. But yeah, back to his question. You just shrugged your shoulders and leaned back.

"Eh? You'll make our travels feel longer if you stay like that."

"Travels?"

"Your shift ends at the same time every day?"

"Yes. But what do you mean by trav—"

"Now we're talking." He chuckled and continued, "Whether you like it or not, I'll be here after your shifts as I also go home to the same town. I have a friend who's dorm is beside the convenience store, so don't fucking tell me that it'll be a bother, cause nope."

"But sen—"

"Sanemi. Call me by my first or last name when we're out of the university. You weren't paying attention earlier! Tsk!"

"Sorry..."

"And stop apologising too much."

You felt your heart go fast as Sanemi smiled at you. "I told you, you're my student, so you're my responsibility. And I don't want what happened earlier to repeat."

"Thank you, Sanemi-san."

That first time Sanemi drove you home became your math professor's task every time that you were at that convenient store.

You still acted a bit awkwardly towards him, but after a few days of those moments recurring, Sanemi slowly brought you out of your shell. And also, he managed to start making you feel more flushed than before. You started liking him and the times when he was there for you.

At the university, he's still like the chaos incarnate with his harsh antics. He even made one student cry because he became mad at them for being too loud in the hallway while he was teaching. And of course, at class, he didn't show you any special treatment. He even started to call you airhead at the uni.

But yeah, you didn't have any grudges against him, as all you wanted to do at the university was learn and pass. And you're clearly aware that Sanemi's just doing his job in his own way.

It just also seems like Sanemi has this facade at school. But you won't dive deep into that, as you never wanted to pry.

"Hey airhead."

The sound of Sanemi's voice reverberating through the hallway shook you out of your stupor. You turned your head to look at him and noticed that the math professor was approaching you from behind. There are no math classes today, so you were astounded to see Sanemi.

It is impossible not to fall in love with the charming way in which the sun's rays fall on him. Because of the way that his piercing eyes were fixed on you and the way that his hands were crossed, almost exposing his bare chest, you can't help but feel as though your breath is being slowly sucked out of you.

You bit your lip, still staring at him, when he finally stopped in front of you.

"Airhead, I'm going to fucking melt if you keep staring at me like that."

You blushed and looked away. But then, before you could give an excuse, Sanemi spoke first. "Your classes are done?"

"Yes sensei."

"Come with me. Help me check your papers."

You immediately nodded and followed him to the classroom of the Math Club. The members were out early today, so Sanemi got the entire room for himself. And yes, the man likes solitude sometimes.

Sanemi closed the door behind him and sat on his desk. "Just pull a chair from somewhere there." He pointed at the empty seats, and you complied.

Sanemi has been a nice guy to look out for you after work, and you really appreciate that. You wanted to pay him back sometimes, but he declined it, so one night you told him that you'd be his apprentice at the university, and you'd even help him with his tasks if needed. There, he agreed.

It wasn't the first time that the two of you shared this room to indulge yourselves in numbers. It was a win-win for you. First, you are definitely learning. If there are mistakes, Sanemi teaches you the formula, so that's an instant special class for you. Second, you kind of want to spend time with him, so these moments make your dreams come true.

Your work is just 4 hours as you are just a student, and the owner of the convenience store is too kind to make you work for 8 hours after your 6 hours of school. So, you won't be late even if you stay here at the university, as your work starts around 9 p.m.

Sanemi cleared his throat, which made you look at him. He was staring at you intensely, and when your eyes met, it was him who averted it this time. "Uh, so, how's the day? Any homeworks?" He asked with an awkward tone, which definitely surprised you, as he was usually sounding either cocky, angry, or caring.

"Yes sensei. On Iguro-san's chemistry classes."

"Hah! I hope my friend doesn't give you a hard time." Sanemi chuckled.

"He doesn't. He's less harsh than you are."

It was late when you realised what you said. You covered your mouth and stared at Sanemi, who had the veins on his forehead popping in irritation. "You brat. Math is important! If I weren't harsh, would you all fucking listen to me?"

"I will. I like it when you're gentle."

What you said surprised Sanemi. His cheeks suddenly turned pink, but he tried his best to hide it. You noticed it but didn't say a word. But inside you, you felt hot. You like it when Sanemi blushes. You bit your lip again and crossed your leg as you felt something weird down there.

His breathing has changed, and you watched his exposed chest as he did so. Your eyes landed on his scars, and a part of you wondered how they would feel if you touched them.

On the other hand, lots of crazy thoughts suddenly filled Sanemi's head.

She likes me when I'm gentle. What does this little fuck mean?

Your words almost caused his mind to shut down. He always looks forward to when you speak, as you're always so quiet, but times like this really astound him. He's flustered around you, and that's because he likes to have his own damsel in distress.

Your math professor's attracted to you, and you have no idea.

Sanemi straightened his collar and cleared his throat before continuing to check the papers. You watched as he moved in his seat, but you couldn't help but be perplexed as to why he responded in such an unexpected manner. You stepped up, bent towards him, and reached for some additional paperwork that had been placed in front of him so that you could also check those.

But then, instead of reaching the test papers, it was Sanemi's hand that you accidentally touched. "Oh sorry... I was just trying to get some papers." You said this and proceeded to take some papers, not knowing what your actions were doing to the professor.

His eyes watched you as you gently sat back, and without you noticing, those lavender orbs fell on your breast. He was observing you the whole time. As you breathed in and out, Sanemi watched your chest rise and fall.

You finally finished checking and smiled at your professor. But he was too taken with the sight in front of him. You tucked your hair back behind your ear and stood up from your seat.

"I'm done, Shinazugawa-sensei."

"Hey airhead, can you stop doing that?"

"Huh? Doing what?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Sanemi stood up from his seat, and in just a blink of an eye, he pinned you on the wall, Kabedon style.

You blushed at what he was doing, as you didn't know why he was doing this in the first place. "S-sensei?" You asked, blinking in shock as you felt his hot breath touch your neck.

Sanemi stared at your eyes, and there you saw how they were painted with passion and... hunger? A part of you wanted to leave, but then the bigger part wanted whatever this was. He leaned in until your foreheads touched, then spoke to you in a deep, husky voice.

"The fuck are you doing with me, airhead? You don't know how much you make me want to do this."

"I don't know what you're saying..."

"You want me to be gentle, huh? What makes you think that I'll be gentle to a bitch like you?"

"Sensei..."

Before you could say any words, Sanemi smashed his lip over yours. You were stunned for a few moments before you realised that your math professor, your saviour, and your crush are pinning you on the wall and kissing you right now.

With that in mind, you slowly wrapped your hands around his neck and finally kissed him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth as you moaned.

But then...

"Oh fuck..."

Sanemi pulled out and walked far from you, his hand massaging his forehead. You stood up and watched him, feeling a bit anxious while doing so. He suddenly looks mad.

"Sensei..."

"What the hell, Y/N-san!" He suddenly said it in a roaring voice that made you shiver and almost tear up. He noticed that, so he went near you and held your shoulders. The lust in his eyes faded, and what you saw now was regret as he looked at you.

"Hey, I-I didn't want to take advantage of you. Believe me, Y/L/N-san. It's just that I didn't know what happened to me."

"I like you, sensei."

Those words just escaped your lips and left both of you stunned. You didn't want to tell him that, but you wanted him to calm down. You bit your lower lip, and with that, Sanemi finally took a step back.

"No. You can't. I'll just make you cry."

"Why?"

"Just follow what I'm saying."

You felt angry with what he was saying. Yes, he is older than you, but you hate the fact that he is mansplaining you now. You closed your fist in anger, with nails digging into your palm. And while glaring at him. You finally spoke up.

"Then why the fuck would you kiss me, Sanemi?"

Sanemi rubbed his face in frustration, and finally...

"Because you're fucking easy. I can fuck you if I want to. But you see, I'm doing you a favour here. If all this time you had liked me, then you might as well bend over on that table—"

SLAP!

You didn't care if you were inside his den or if he was your professor. What he told you hurt you, and all you wanted to do now was leave. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you watched Sanemi massage the cheek that you just slapped.

"I hate you! You're just like anybody else."

You said that and finally went out of the room, leaving the man with his guilt.

Yes, Sanemi chose to hurt your feelings instead, as he didn't want you to like a man like him. He's harsh; he even hurts the feelings of his younger brother.

He had hurt a lot of women because of that attitude, and now he didn't want to hurt you too.

So, even if he hated it, he said those words to push you away.

I like you too. But even if I wanted to give you my love, you're my student. I can't hurt you that way.

Days passed, and you still went to his classes with a heavy heart. You didn't answer his classes like before; you didn't even react if he taunted the other students. And yes, he did that; you know he avoided you like the plague. He never called your name. He didn't even try to look at you. Suddenly, you're invisible again.

The night after that encounter, all you did was cry. You didn't even go to work. You lied through your teeth when you told your manager that you were sick.

And yes, Sanemi stopped driving you home. Perhaps what he said was true. I'm fucking easy? You thought about it for the hundredth time as you finished your shift. You stepped out of the convenience store, wishing you would see him parked by the—

"Sanemi..."

"Oi, Y/N. How are you?"

The sight of Sanemi again was like a blow to the chest. He had his back against the car, arms folded. You decided to ignore him, walking away, but then he caught your arm.

"Hey, please listen to me."

"What the fuck do you want? If you want to fuck someone, go to a strip club or something."

"No."

"Then what?!"

You pulled your hands away from him, glaring as if you wanted him to just disappear. His sight reminds you of all the hurtful things he said at that time.

"I'm sorry. I messed up."

"Go tell your sorry to some other easy kid. I won't buy that. You are free to fucking fail me if you so choose. I'll just transfer."

"Hey! No!"

You walked away, leaving Sanemi again, but he chased you and blocked your way. He isn't wearing any of those facades as he faces you right now. He looks distressed and sad, and a part of you wanted to give in, but men are like this. They do things like this if they need something from you, and you hate him anyway.

"I love you, Y/N."

"And now you suddenly love me? Oh, please, perhaps you're just horny again."

You tried to escape from him, but Sanemi didn't let you. He held your shoulders and stared into your eyes, begging for you to listen to him.

But then, before he could speak, a person suddenly appeared behind you.

"I hate to disturb this love quarrel, but you need to pay for messing up with me."

And suddenly, all your strength seemed to be sipped out of your body as you saw how Sanemi pushed you away as the perverted man from before tried to stab you. Sanemi received the attack on his side, which made the culprit run away.

The man who stabbed Sanemi was then unintentionally run over by a truck and sent flying, as if fate were on your side to avenge you.

Your eyes widened as everything went red. Your professor coughed blood and fell on your shoulder.

"No... No... No Sanemi! Don't die on me!"

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too. Please don't leave me."

"I love... you... Sorry..."

He said that, and then he passed out.

"What happened to Nii-chan?"

You were astounded when you met his little brother. He entered Sanemi's room with worry on his face. You always see this guy at school, and Sanemi seems to hate him so much. You're a year ahead of Genya and you didn't even think that Sanemi was his brother.

"Sanemi-san saved me earlier. I'm sorry if this happened to him, Shinazugawa-kun."

"No! Don't say that! It's not your fault at all. My Nii-san's really great. He would save people a thousand times if he only could."

You watched as Sanemi's brother sat on the couch beside you, looking at his unconscious brother. It's the first time that you've really looked at him, so it's also the first time that you've seen that he also had scars like Sanemi had.

"Sorry Shina—"

"I'm Genya. Are you my brother's girlfriend? He always speaks about a girl who seems to fit your description."

"Oh?"

You blushed at Genya's words. So, Sanemi's thinking of you? For real? He even went all the way to telling those feelings to his little brother. You weren't able to speak as if he knew that you were a student at the same university where his brother teaches. He'll surely freak out.

"Do you think your brother will be okay?"

"Yes. He had endured this kind of injury a lot of times. I'm sure that his wound now won't be the one that kills him."

A lot of times? Questions filled your head as you stared at Genya. He seems a bit relaxed. Perhaps he trusts his brother so much.

"What do you mean, though?"

"Oh, Nii-chan saved my life when I was younger from an accident. See these scars? He also has this, but it's a lot worse. He endured all the pain just to save me. Nii-san would do anything for the people he loves. Even if it means hurting himself."

Your heart started beating fast once again as you remembered that, before he passed out, Sanemi had told you that he loved you. Perhaps that's why he took that stab at you. But why would he hurt your feelings back then in the classroom if he really did? You're confused as much as you are happy to know that the professor loves you. There were a lot of things that you wanted to hear from him.

"The fuck are you doing here, Genya?"

Both you and Genya were astounded as Sanemi's faint voice was heard. Both of you stood up and ran to his side. Sanemi groaned and tried to sit, but you stopped him.

"Hey no... Just lay down. Please."

He complied without any complaints, but then he looked at Genya. Sanemi caressed his brother's arm. "Hey, you won't get rid of Nii-san that easy." He grinned, which made Genya smile too. "I know Nii-san."

That's the first time that you've seen the innocence and peace on Sanemi's face. He looked like an angel. You smiled at them and were about to leave the siblings, but then Sanemi caught your arm and looked at you with loving eyes.

"Are you okay? What happened to the fucktard?"

"Sanemi-san, I'm good. You should relax first."

"But I want to know."

"The man died. After stabbing you, he ran onto the street and got hit."

"Oh, he got what he deserved!"

Genya spoke in a loud tone that made Sanemi chuckle. You held Sanemi's hand, caressing it as your eyes locked with each other. Then suddenly...

"Genya, I see that you've met my star student, Y/N."

"Oh? Student?!"

Genya was astounded by what Sanemi said. But no one could beat the surprise on your face. Yes, you'll always be his student, and that shit hurts.

But before you can say anything...

"And Genya, I'll punch you if you ever try hitting on her. She's not just my star student. I also love her."

"Nii-san..."

"Sanemi..."

"Your secret's safe with me, Nii-chan. It's nice meeting you finally, Y/N-san."

"Thank you. Genya, can you leave us alone for a while? I'll talk with you later."

After a nod, Genya walked out of the room. Sanemi held your hand tightly and smiled at you. "I'm glad you are okay, Y/N." His voice was soft as he said those words. He had a smile, as if he had just won the lottery. Perhaps saving you is really important to him.

"Yes. It's because of you, sensei— I mean, Sanemi."

He chuckled and caressed your hand with his fingers. "I'm so sorry if I told you lots of hurtful words back then. I didn't mean to tell you those. I was just scared to hurt you. I always hurt the people who become close to me."

"No. I think you're wrong. Why don't you try giving yourself credit? Like with Genya-kun. He adores you so much."

"But... I wasn't able to save our whole family."

"Don't blame yourself for everything, Sanemi. You did your best. And I think your family is proud of you. And I'm not saying that you shouldn't be harsh or whatever; I'm just saying that you shouldn't push people away because you're not saving them. You're hurting them."

"Like what I did to you. God, I hate myself for saying those things. I'm sorry."

"I've already forgiven you. Don't think about that too much."

You leaned in to kiss his lips, which surprised the man when you pulled out.

You smiled at him and caressed his face. "I don't want to lose you again, Y/N." He said this as he caressed your hand.

"You won't lose me anymore, Sanemi. I love you."

"I love you too. Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Hey airhead!"

You were surprised when Sanemi's voice echoed in the hallway. You looked up at him, and there, you were astounded by how stunning he is. With the sun setting the spotlight on him, you saw his littlest details. The way his grin lights up his face, his arms swing gracefully at his sides, and his gaze follows yours.

You weren't able to look away even before he finally spoke up, teasing you. "I'm going to fucking melt if you keep staring at me like that."

This is deja vu. Sanemi crossed his arms and,

"Come with me. Help me check the papers again."

"Okay sensei."

You walked behind Sanemi, and when you reached the classroom, he locked it. You were about to pull up a chair to sit and check the papers when Sanemi sat on his chair and patted his lap. "Nope. Sit here."

"Sensei..."

"You don't want to obey me?" He asked with a challenging voice, which definitely turned you on. So, of course, you slowly sat on his lap while blushing madly.

"So, I want you to solve this for me."

Sanemi said while caressing your thighs under the table. With his touch, you felt your body tingle. You spread your legs and thanked yourself for choosing to wear a skirt today. You felt yourself becoming wetter, so you slowly rubbed yourself against Sanemi's groin, causing him to moan.

"I thought we'd check papers, sensei?" You said it innocently, teasing him.

Sanemi rested his head on the crook of your neck and used his right hand to cup your breast under your shirt. "I love it when you play innocent, baby." He said, obviously turned on by your actions.

"What am you saying, sensei? You said I need to solve something, so I'm just patiently waiting." You said this, continuously feigning innocence as you felt Sanemi's cock get harder with the friction.

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you so hard, Y/N."

He said, making you giggle. But suddenly, Sanemi stood up, making you stand up too. He pointed to the table and smirked at you. "Bend over."

You felt your titties become harder as arousal took over your body. Heat crept up to your face as you heard the change in Sanemi's breathing. Also, the fact that you're both at the university right now turned you on. You loved that it was risky.

So, with no doubt in mind, you bend over the table, exposing your wet underwear to him. Sanemi loved the view. After unbuckling his belt and removing his pants, he approached you, and you felt his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt.

You wanted to see how big it was, as this is your first time with him. Days before this, you had your first foreplay with him, but that was over the phone. He made you cum thrice just by his voice.

"What is two times two?"

"Four."

"Yes, I will make you cum four times in this room."

You felt excited. And what made you more aroused was when Sanemi went down on you and started licking your cunt as you were bent down like a slut for him. He removed your underwear and began running his tongue through your slit.

Sanemi chuckled as you squirmed because of the pleasure. His chuckle reverberated on your skin, sending your tingles.

Then, to your astonishment, Sanemi spanked your ass, making you yelp.

Sanemi stood up and caressed your ass. "Mmm, you don't know how much you're turning me on right now. Face me and kneel down." He said, which you happily obeyed.

You faced him with your eyes trailing from his lustful expression down to his unbuttoned shirt, then down to his big and hard cock.

"You feeling scared now, Y/N?" He said this, smirking at you. But then, without any words, you knelt down and slowly caressed his cock as you adored it. It was so big that you might actually cum more than four times because of it.

Slowly, you swiped the tip on your lip and licked the cum that was already oozing out of it because of being turned on. You held it with your right hand and trailed the bottom of the shaft up to the top before putting it all inside your mouth.

"Oh fuck. Your mouth feels so good, Y/N."

Sanemi held your head and thrust on you as you bobbed your head on his cock. You felt almost gagging as it reached your throat, but you stopped it and decided to look at Sanemi in the eyes as he enjoyed your blowout. "Mmm, baby, I'll fucking make you scream in pleasure if we just weren't at uni this time." He said, patting your head like a good girl.

You were about to give him a hand when suddenly Sanemi yanked your hair and spread you out on the floor. Taking off the rest of your clothes, he started kissing you. Slowly, you felt his hands on your clit as he started rubbing them in circles.

You moaned in his mouth as you bucked your hips up in pleasure. "Shhh, the students might hear us, baby," he whispered as he pressed his lips to yours once more.

With how he stimulates your clit, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. "Mmm near baby!" You said this as you squirmed underneath him. "Yes, baby, cum for me like a good girl."

With that, Sanemi rubbed your pussy faster than before, which almost made you scream, but thankfully, he managed to cover your mouth. And there, after a few seconds, you felt the tingly sensation all over your body. Your eyes rolled with pure lust as your hips bucked up to match the pace of his fingers.

You felt the high subside, and yet Sanemi isn't done with you. Even if you're still intoxicated from your first orgasm, Sanemi lifted you onto the table once more and sucked your titties.

"That's the first one, baby. Now, let's go with the rest."

Sanemi pulled your hair, which made you moan as he kissed your neck, leaving a trail of love bites. As he did so, your hands worked to remove his remaining clothing as well. And when his clothes fell on the floor, you ran your nails on his back.

"Fuck me." You whispered that made him smile.

"Of course I will."

Slowly, Sanemi aligned his cock on your pussy, and with one swift thrust, he finally succeeded in penetrating you, compelling you to cling to him as your pleasure began to return. You bit his neck, which made him groan in your ear.

"Oh fuck. Do that again, and I'll fucking punish you, airhead."

You looked into his eyes and saw him looking at you intensely as he continued to thrust into you slowly. You caressed his face and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

That seemed to fuel him, as suddenly Sanemi's thrusts became harder and faster, making your breast jiggle beneath him. He sucked on one of your nipples and continued to fuck your brains out.

You wrapped your legs around his waist to let him go deeper. With that, Sanemi managed to repeatedly strike the perfect spot within you, and you felt your orgasm building up once more. "Ahhh, Sanemi, I'm cumming."

"Good girl."

He rubbed your clit again while continuously fucking you so hard. And there, after just three seconds, you squirted on his cock, making him smirk.

He pulled out of you and watched as you panted underneath him. "That's two for you and still zero for me." Just looking at him right now, you can really say that this man has stamina.

"But we're not done yet, babe... That was so hot when you squirted on my cock. Do it again."

He said and with that, Sanemi finally bent you over the table. You used the poor table as a support, as you felt that your strength had already escaped from your body.

Without hesitation, while holding your waist, Sanemi thrust deeply into your dripping pussy and fucked you.

With every thrust, you managed to whimper in pleasure. "Fuck Sanemi, you're so good." You muttered between your pants, and that made your math professor more aroused. You felt his thrusts become faster again as his nails dug into your waist. You whimpered in pain and pleasure, with tears already welling in your eyes.

He cupped your breasts and left love marks on your neck. "Fuck so tight for me, love." And with that, you matched his pace, also moving your hips with his rhythm. Then, for the third time, you felt your pussy increasing in temperature as his cock continued to strike your gspot.

And there, you finally squirted once again, letting out an audible moan as you did so. Sanemi covered your mouth and continued to fuck you as the tingles subsided.

Without pulling out, Sanemi turned you towards him and lifted you. "Third. I'm so done edging. I'm going to make you cum for the fourth time. And yes, baby, I will fill you with my seed. I know you want that, right?" He asked gently as he playfully squeezed your ass.

You didn't answer, as you felt weak with pleasure. Sanemi smirked and gave you a passionate kiss, biting your lip while inserting his cock into you. You held on to him tightly and wrapped your legs around his waist so that you wouldn't fall.

"Don't worry. I won't let you fall."

"Are you sure you can... your wound..."

"I can. I'm all healed, remember?"

You sobbed on his shoulder as he abruptly inserted his cock into you, preventing you from speaking. It felt so good! Sanemi moaned in your ear as he slowly let the pleasure build. He won't hold back this time.

As Sanemi lifted you up and down his cock, you couldn't help but be impressed by his strength. His thrusts were deeper this time, so to tease him, you clenched your pussy around his manhood, which made him moan loudly. "Fuck! Fuck!"

He couldn't take it anymore, so he placed you down on the table again and lifted your legs on his shoulders. He desperately desired to cum inside you, so he fucked you faster, nearly causing you to scream with pleasure. He didn't cover your mouth this time; he couldn't as he was too focused on how beautiful you are beneath him.

With the lascivious sound of your moaning and skin slapping, he can't help but feel his orgasm inside of him. You, on the other hand, are already feeling the tingles as you feel like cumming.

Sanemi smashed his lips on yours, and there, both of you cummed in unison. You squirmed as your cunt squirted on his cock while he released his seed inside of you. You felt like passing out as the high subsided. Sanemi finally pulled out, making his cum drip on the floor. But who would care? You're drunk on passion.

He lifted you and placed you on his lap as you embraced him tightly. You love this man so much, and you can't help but be happy that he is finally yours.

Sanemi ran his hand through your hair and kissed your forehead. "You're such a good girl. Came four times for... sensei." He teased you, which made you blush.

"Y/N... when I saw you in trouble back then, I told myself that I wanted to protect you. And here we are now."

"Thank you, Sanemi." You said this as your eyes locked with each other. The wind blew over your naked bodies, making you feel the shivers, but then Sanemi embraced you and let you rest on his chest.

"You're just like me when I was younger, babe. I used to do everything for myself and Genya. I even worked back in college too, like you."

"So, you saw yourself in me?"

"Kind of. But you're better. So, I am trying to protect you from bad things. Even from myself... Because a part of me knows that it's wrong to like your student."

"But do you regret loving me now?" You asked, anxious as you watched Sanemi sigh.

"No. The thing that I regret most is trying to hurt you. You're not an easy girl, Y/N. Don't ever believe any of the shitty words I said before."

You smiled at him and kissed his lips. Feeling your strength once again, you slowly sat on his lap, facing him this time. "What I regret is hating you... I love you, Sanemi. Thank you for always saving me." You said it with tears falling from your eyes. You embraced him and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Shhh... Don't cry, babe. Please."

Sanemi lifted your head and wiped away your tears. He kissed your forehead and caressed your cheek.

Eyes locked with each other again, you realised how your life would change today. And it'll change for the better with Sanemi by your side. Yes, the infamous Sanemi Shinazugawa fell in love with you, and you're happy with it.

"I love you, Sanemi."

"We're in school, baby." He teased, and that made you chuckle. So then,

"I love you, Shinazugawa-sensei."

"I'm just kidding! But I love you too, Y/N."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼~

You won't know how happy I am that I finally completed this~

Originally, it was supposed to be just headcanons but you know me, I can't write short fics that easy HAHA So, when I was writing 𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔: 𝑯𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 for Kyojuro, I revised it tonnes of times XD

But there, the series flowed until here we are with Sanemi's part! I hope you loved it🤭 As promised, I made it long as it was delayed already HAHA!

Reblogs, Comments, and Requests are highly appreciated! Love you!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT~ I'll see you on my other stories UwU

MDNI!

Ja ne~

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

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hwasoup · 1 year ago

Text

Tale As Old As Time

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art credit: marbipa

hii guuyys its soup !! what a crazy week it has been. I have a class where my group is shit except for 3 ppl and i've been really excited for spring break. Talking about spring break, after this update I wont be updating until after my spring break, However that doesn't mean i might release little mini stories that take place during this chapter !! I will still be active, juuust not writing as much. spring break for me ends on March 17th so be on the lookout for an update during that week !!

for this chapter I took some actual lines and dialouge from a book and sonnet !!

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warnings: pure fluff if you're allergic to it and maybe a little smexy thoughts, and some evil planning

words: 3.3k

Chapter 5: A Second Chance

After arriving back at the castle…

Miguel is taken all the way to his room where he could rest and heal from his wounds. Y/N peeked inside his room worried but was shut out by Lyla who softly told her that Miguel is currently having his room cleaned up. Y/N nodded as she waited outside.

After what seemed to be an hour, Y/N peeked back inside with a cloth and some hot water in a bucket. She noticed how his room is tidier and much cleaner from the original state from what it was. She thought that maybe, the Beast was too embarrassed for her to enter his room in such a grave state. Lyla hopped in the room besides Y/N and led him to the bed where Miguel was laying. Everyone was huddled by the bed with worried faces as they hoped for Miguel to feel better. Miguel on the other hand was still a bit grumpy and in pain as he was licking his own wounds. Y/N with a small sigh picked up a stool and sat right beside the bed and placed the rag into the hot water. She then picked it up and squeezed it to remove any excess water. “Here, and stop licking that you’ll only infect it further...” she says softly as she approaches him. Miguel looked at her and snarled a bit, Y/N sighed, and she grabbed his arm and placed the wet rag on the wound. Miguel roared loudly in pain and yelled at her “COÑO THAT HURTS”

“Well if you didn’t move so much then It wouldn’t have hurt!”

“WELL IF YOU DIDN’T RUN AWAY, THIS WOULD HAVE NEVER HAPPENED”

“WELL IF YOU DIDN’T FRIGHTEN ME, I WOULDN’T HAVE RAN AWAY”

Miguel opened his mouth but then stopped as she did have a point. “W-WELL, YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE TO THE WEST WING” he smirks to himself as he thinks that he got the final word. “WELL YOU SHOULD LEARN TO HOLD YOUR TEMPER!” Miguel’s smirk dropped from that statement; she also had a point too.

Miguel eventually gave up as he dropped his arm for her to treat him. He did have to admit, it felt nice being cared for by someone. He growled again as he felt the heat and sting from the wet rag go back on his arm. Y/N looked at him and softly said “sorry if it stings a bit…” Miguel simply had to hold in his growls as he felt the hot water from the rag permeate his wounds. Y/N eventually looked at him and whispered “by the way… gracias ..por salvar mi vida…” Miguel was surprised and even felt touched for her appreciation. He didn’t know what to call the emotion, but he liked it. He turned to look at her with kind eyes “you’re welcome...”

After a while, Miguel fell asleep and Y/N slowly walked out of his room along with the others who were watching their interactions. Y/N turns around and crouches a little as she hears Miles say “Thank you…we’re grateful for you helping him..”

Y/N sighs and asks “why do you all care for him so much ? He’s so…well you know

Peter was polishing Mayday a little and looked up at Y/N “well…it's because we all grew up with him, we basically looked after each other for his entire life” Y/N’s heart crumbled a little for them “But…he’s the reason why he basically cursed all of you, why stay with him?”

Jess waddled up to her and sighed “well…it's because we didn’t do anything when his mother died and when his own brother left him. It was just Me and Peter, the others eventually came in as their own parents couldn’t work in this castle anymore. You see when we knew him…he was this bright boy that thought he could do anything, but…in the end we’re still servants, we couldn’t even do anything when the King took him under his wing and molded him to be the person he is today…”

In that moment Y/N understood everything now, she understood why these people were so loyal to him. She felt pretty bad and well ultimately decided that maybe she should give Miguel a second chance..

As the days went by, Y/N constantly went to see Miguel with medicine and more hot water to clean his wounds. Everyday she would hear stories from the staff of how Miguel was and their experiences with him, Heck even Hobie gave her a funny story. She felt motivated for a strange reason to help him and maybe even get to properly know him a bit better. Y/N eventually found out what the spell was about and she remembered asking Gwen what it meant if the last petal fell. In Gwen’s words she basically said “we become dead antique looking objects” Y/N also asked Peter when she found him on what it would take to break the spell, Miles was eager to tell her but Peter stopped him by simply saying “it's not something you should really worry about” Y/N thankfully took a hint and moved along with her day.

More days passed and Y/N started simply reading aloud to kill time

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,”

Miguel slowly stirred to Y/N’s voice and his eyes fluttered to hear her reciting a sonnet. His heart strangely softened at her voice, but he assumed it was because he appreciated her care for him during the past few days.He then heard the lines she spoke and immediately recognized it and finished the last few lines

“And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines”

Y/N stopped to look at him in awe “conoces a Shakespeare ??” she said in a slightly excited tone. Miguel moved from the left to right side of the bed to look at her, his heart slightly pounding at the sight of her “well..I had quite the expensive education” Y/N smiled at him “My favorite play is Romeo and Juliet” Miguel rolled his eyes and groaned “why am I not surprised” he said shaking his head in utter disappointment. “Como ?” Miguel chuckled and responded “All of that heartache pining, and romance, it's just-” Miguel makes a gagging noise to express how cringe he finds it.

Y/N chuckled a little and smiled. “Well, Mr. Cringe, from this assessment I can concur that you’re feeling a bit better, If you’ll excuse me, I promised Mayday that we would build a snowman” Miguel nodded as he understood and watched her walk out of his room. He lay there in confusion and wondered if he was going mad…"diablo, que hermosa” he muttered as he covered his face with his arm.

__________________________________________

An hour later

Y/N was walking outside with the adorable teacup to build a snowman. She smiled each time that Mayday pointed out little items that could be used to build. The two happily built a snowman and stole a carrot from Felipe’s stables to place as the snowman’s nose. Too bad Felipe saw them and started playing with them as well and squished the snowman. However, at a balcony high up in the castle, Miguel was watching Y/N from a distance. He softly watched her and smiled each time she laughed or smiled. He looked down at his bandaged wound and sighed as he wondered what to do. He looked beside him as Peter was paying attention to his darling daughter, hoping she wouldn't get trampled by Felipe. “Hey Peter…uhh…what do you call it when you-” Miguel gulped a little “when you feel kind of fluttery when staring at someone” Peter turned to him and smirked “is this someone, a certain woman who’s frolicking in the snow” Miguel groaned at his teasing and sighed “coño vale ok, jeez…but uhh…what do I do for her…I mean..she’s done so much for me” Peter then thinks for a bit and then smiled when thinking of something “why don’t you show her the library, trust me she’ll like it.” Miguel nodded as he took his advice and decided to show Y/N the library. A bit later during the day Miguel found Y/N inside the castle playing chess with Miles and asked her to join him for a special occasion. Y/N agreed and followed him, but immediately was tied a ribbon on her eyes “It’s a surprise and I don’t want you peeking.”

Y/N smiled and simply allowed Miguel to guide her into the greatest surprise of her life. She heard a door open and felt his large furry hands take her inside. She kept on walking until he brought her to a stop. "Can I take this ribbon off now?” Y/N asked. “Ya en un ratito” Miguel excitedly went to the windows and opened the curtains for light to come inside. Y/N could see the light seep in through the ribbon, but she still couldn’t make out what she’s looking at. “Can I take the ribbon off now ??” Miguel smiled with his toothy grin and told her “Yes, you may take off the ribbon” Y/N untied the ribbon from the back of her head and then finally looked into the room she was actually in and her jaw dropped. There were books everywhere in this giant room. “Oh my..this library…it's so...Dios Mio, it's so grand, it's wonderful !!”

Miguel smiled at her reaction, it was definitely priceless and worth it to see her cheeks rise and to see her eyes ever so slightly crinkle at the ends of her face. “I suppose it is” he responded “well…then since you like it so much then it's yours to keep” Y/N excitedly looked at him and asked “ Have you read all of these books ?” Miguel chuckles and scoffs “Not all of them, some of them are in Latin” Y/N laughs and smiles “was that a joke ? you like telling jokes now ?” Miguel turned around to a table, but then looked back at her and smiled “maybe”

—- —- —- —- —- —- —- —- —-

It has now been around 3 months since Y/N has stayed in the castle and ever since the two of them have slowly developed a bond. They became friends, but at the same time they really weren’t. The staff noticed it and were just simply happy to be working again. There were certain instances where Miguel was a bit gruff, awkward, or just had odd behaviors, but Y/N found solutions to each one. When eating soup at the dinner table, instead of using spoons they would sip the contents of the dish from the bowl itself. When eating meat, they would use their hands, and when reading books the two must sit together and share the book.

“Who knew that this would work ?” Jess whispered. Peter nodded and smiled “I'm surprised myself, it's quite encouraging to be honest” Little Mayday who was with them looked up at her father “daddy ? what IS werking ?” Peter chuckled and looked at the little teacup “nothing to twist your little head around May, come on now we have things to do in the kitchen” Mayday nodded and hopped along with her father to the kitchen. Jess peering at the newly formed friendship smiled “don’t screw up Miguel”. She left the room to another part of the castle to attend her duties at.

During this period of friendship, Miguel had started to wear clothes instead of the rags he wore, he wanted to look more presentable to Y/N. Luckily the seamstress was willing to sew new clothes for him in his furry stature. Y/N had invited him to walk outside to finish the book they were currently reading: The Count of Monte Cristo. He eventually met up with y/n as they took a stroll outside in the wintery snow. Y/N every once in a while, would peer up at him to spot any grimaces in his face, but was met instead with a calm look. As she read, she couldn’t help but peer at him one more time, her thoughts straying away to some impurities, her thoughts slipping as she imagined Miguel’s furry chest against her own body. She blushed at her own actions and disregarded it. She didn’t want to believe she just thought of something like that. The two finally walked by a bridge as she finally read the last sentences of the book “Gone,” murmured Valentine; “adieu, my sweet Haidee—adieu, my sister!”

“Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?” said Morrel with tearful eyes.

“Darling,” replied Valentine, “has not the count just told us that all human wisdom is summed up in two words?—’Wait and hope.’”

Miguel smiled at her last words and looked at her “well that was quite the story” Y/N looked up and smiled at him. “I agree” Y/N put away the book in a bag and then smiled as she walked quickly towards Felipe, gently petting the horse and feeding him some apples that she had stored in her bag. She gestured for Miguel to come. He gulped as he looked at the horse, he didn’t want to frighten him with his beastly appearance, but the reassurance that y/n gave him was enough. He slowly approached Felipe and tried to put his hand on the horse, but Felipe nickered. The noise startled Miguel as he slightly flinched. Y/N chuckled a little and helped Miguel approach Felipe again, she wondered how he was just so sweet and kind despite his angry facade. When Miguel finally placed his hand against the horse his ears perked up and he looked up at Y/N with a toothy grin. She chuckled as she looked at him dearly, she enjoyed that his curiosity was emerging and his uncertainties as well. She handed him some bird feed and showed him how to feed birds in a quiet manner as well. Miguel looked at her as he was able to pet Felipe and successfully feed some birds. He thought how her glances were just so adorable, how she would always place a hand on him without any fear. He wanted to ignore all of these little things she did, but he simply couldn’t get over her. Her body was so petite against his, it just made his mind wander to farther places. However, his thoughts were interrupted when he realized he had birds perched all over his upper body and feeding the seeds from his hands. Y/N on the other hand was watching silently from behind a tree as she had to make terms with herself that she was finding Miguel’s true personality quite attractive. She always knew as a child that the man that she falls for would be for who he is, but she never expected this to be in THIS way. Y/N looked back quickly at Miguel and chuckled at all the birds on him, but her playfulness got to her as she started a snowball fight with him. The two in the snow played around, throwing snowballs at each other relentlessly, some bigger some smaller, and Miguel using his size as an advantage to make a giant snowball to throw at Y/N.

After a long day of just playing in the snow, the two came inside to sit by the fire to start reading yet another book. Peeking outside the room where the fireplace was located. Miles, Gwen, Lyla, Peter, Mayday, and Jess were looking at the two of them.

“Y’know…I think they like each other” “Y’know what miles, I think you’re right.”

“Shush you two do you want us to get caught.” Peter chuckled “alright Jess, just let them have their moment.”

Mayday looked up confused and babbled “whaddaya mean they like each other” Peter laughs alongside with Lyla who tells her “We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

__________________________________________

However, in the village…

Ben was having a meeting with a man in the middle of the night in his cabin. Eddie was there as well but simply sighed as he knew that this plan was horrid

“Yo usualmente no salgo del Psiquiátrico en la madrugada, but I was told this is worth my time..”

Ben smiled wickedly and placed on the table a large bag of gold coins. The man looked at the money and smiled as he picked up a coin “i’m listening”

Ben smiled “so the plan is that I am dead set on marrying Y/N, but I’m starting to believe that she needs a bit of persuasion per say..” Eddie rolls his eyes and mutters “more like being flat out rejected” Ben sneered at Eddie, and quickly used his look to silence him.

“Everyone knows that her father is a loon, he was in the tavern I believe 3-4 months ago raving over some beast in a castle?!” The man sighed “Mauricio is harmless though, he hasn’t done anything to harm the villagers to put him IN the asylum.”

Ben smacked the table “Listen, the point is that Y/N would do ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING to keep Mauricio out of the asylum” Eddie mumbled again “might marry him too” The man thinks “So you want me to throw her father into el psiquiátrico, a menos que ella se ponga de acuerdo de casarse contigo. Oh that is just despicable…” The man chuckled as he looked at the bag of money and he starts laughing menacingly “I LOVE IT”

__________________________________________

Back in the castle as the days slowly got warmer

Miguel was sitting down in his budding rose garden, the sights of spring finally peeking through the icy cold. He sat down and hummed as he enjoyed the book he was reading, flipping through the pages, enjoying each time the story escalated. Y/N sees him from a distance and approaches him at the rose garden. “What are you reading?” Miguel surprised closed his book as he cheekily responded “oh, nothing” Y/N smiled and chuckled as she sat beside him “Guinevere and Lancelot” Miguel corrected her “Actually, King Arthur and the Round Table, lots of blood, men, sword fighting and stuff.” Y/N hummed “It's still a romance” Miguel groans “Esta bien, you win” Y/n smiled and laughed a bit. Miguel smiled and looked at her with adoration in his eyes “I never thanked you, for not leaving me to be eaten by the wolves” Y/N laughed again. In the distance laughter was heard from the staff as they all chatted and teased little mayday.

“Well, it seems that they know how to have a good time” Miguel rolls his eyes “and yet every time I walk in the room laughter just dies.” Y/N smiles at the similarity that they share and lays her head on Miguel’s shoulder, shocking the man to his core as his ears flattened in embarrassment. “I get it, the villagers would say I'm a funny girl” she moves her head away to look at him “I don’t think they meant it in a nice way” Miguel’s face drooped at her words “I'm sorry you had to experience that…Your village sounds horrid, terrible people there” Y/N chuckled as she agreed with him. Miguel looked into her eyes as he could see the sun glinting against the lovely shade that adorned her face. Without hesitating he didn’t realize what he said

“Estás haciendo que todo parezca tan bonito en mis ojos... crees que algún día podria bailar contigo?”

Y/N softly smiled as she took his hand and held his, feeling the warmth radiate from his palms.

“Of course, Miguel...”

taglist:

@cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles,@xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n,

@badbishsblog, @faimmm,@keendreamnight, @texanadmirer,@stargirrls, @itzsab,@delectableworm

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel atsv

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the-sea-called-history02 · 3 months ago

Text

How Stray Kids say, “I love you,” without saying it (hyung line)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: mild cursing

Maknae line

Bang Chan

Spoils you

This man loves nothing more than to spoil the ever-loving shit out of you. He knows he can’t always be there, and the guilt of that eats him alive all the time, so he takes every chance he gets to buy you any and everything he can. You’ve told him a million times that he shouldn’t buy you such expensive gifts, but he won’t have any of that. You’re his whole world outside of Stray Kids, and he just prays that his gifts can make up for the time he has to be away from you.

“Jokingly” calls you the boys’ mother

Originally, it was Jeongin who started the joke because you had asked him to do something around the house, to which he responded with an eye roll and an, “okay, mOm,” but it kind of just stuck, and Chan can’t get enough of it. He’s someone who prioritizes family over everything, so any chance he can include you in that, he will take it in a heartbeat.

Lee Minho

Craves your touch

He might not seem like it, but skz themselves have said that Minho is the most romantic member. He’ll try to be subtle about it, but you’ll somehow always find his hands on you in some way. Whether it be lightly squeezing your hand, tracing his fingers across your back, or even a little boop on the nose, he’s always finding some sort of reason to touch you.

Defends you

If there’s one thing Minho NEVER plays about, it’s how precious you are to him. Therefore, he is most certainly not going to tolerate anyone speaking poorly of you. He will be the first to block “fans” that have something hateful to say about your relationship. It dumbfounds him that people who don’t know either of you think they can comment on the most important person in his world and then act buddy-buddy with him. He won’t think twice about lashing out if it’s for you.

Seo Changbin

“Did you eat?”

Such a simple question that holds so much meaning to Binnie. Like Chan, he wants you to know that he’s always thinking about you, even when he’s a million miles away. He also wants you to know that the pressure to be “perfect” that he faces day-to-day should never be a burden you face, and that starts with having a healthy relationship with food and your body. (Plus, he’s lowkey looking for ideas on what he should have for lunch, so please send him food pics.)

Credits you in his songs

After all the late nights you’ve pulled just to keep him company while he works, you deserve a spot in the credits just as much as he does, in his mind. Especially if he’s writing a love song because who else could he have ever written that about? Might even give you a stage name if your relationship is private so you can both laugh at stay going out of their minds, theorizing who this new writer working with skz is.

Hwang Hyunjin

OOTD’s

Loverboy™ has 3 passions. Art, dance, and adding to his portfolio of daily photos of you. He stops you anytime you’re about to leave the house to get a quick pic of your ootd, whether it’s just sweats and an old t-shirt, or a full evening gown, he has an insatiable appetite for the goofy, awkward poses you do anytime he whips out the camera. To him, every photo of you is more precious than gold, and he is not above throwing a mini tantrum if you forget to send him daily pictures while he’s on tour.

Collects your drawings

You could have the art skills of a three-year-old on crack, but this man would still take your napkin doodles and keep them in a special scrapbook. Draw on his arm, and he’ll proudly wear it like a badge of honor, taking pictures so he can still have it after he has to wash it off. Definitely the type to drunkenly get one of your quick sketches tattooed and not have a single regret about it in the morning.

#Spotify #stray kids #skz #skz chan #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #hwang hyunjin #skz minho #stray kids soft hours #skz changbin #i love you #stray kids hyung line

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astoldbylanii · 1 year ago

Text

Ignorance

dealers!shuriri x black!reader

warnings: smut, cursing, reader has a kid

-------------- "Is everyone clear on instructions?" Your professor asked from the front of the classroom. There were whispers among the class but ultimately everyone answered yes. Prof. Diggs nodded, giving permission to start the project before he took a seat at his desk. He was your art teacher, as calm and chill as they come. He was one of your favorites considering he wasn't always jumping down his students throats.

As you finally started to get into the flow of your sketch, his phone rang. He picked it up, muttering a few words before he stood from his desk, clearing his throat.

"I have to run down to the front office real quick. Best behavior please, lord knows I don't need miss Mulligan asking about my teaching capabilities. Again." He said, throwing on his suits jacket and tightening his tie. "Until I come back, ask your neighbor for help and if they can't I'll answer your questions when I get back." He instructed, saluting goodbye before he left the room.

Immediately, the room was filled with chatter. You sighed, throwing down your pencil, your thought process now thrown off.

"What's wrong?" Your friend, Eden asked from beside you. She was already well along with her drawing. It looked like it was going to be of her late brother.

"This finna be hard as hell. You know I don't mess with that hyperrealism shit." You said, rolling your eyes as you picked up your pencil, twirling it around your fingers.

"Well, just draw someone but like, abstract. We're in the second semester, by now Diggs knows your style." She suggested, starting to blend her own piece at some points. You shook your head at her idea.

"Nah, he specifically said he wants it to look like he can touch the person. I don't know, I think I might just settle for a nice D at this point." You shrugged, staring at the circle on your page. You took the paper off, crumbling it in your hands and replaced it with a fresh one. After that you didn't pay any more attention to it, pulling out your own sketchbook instead.

"Shii, I could settle for some good D too." Eden joked, smacking your hand down when you playfully shoved her, laughing too. "I'm not kidding!" She said, glaring at you with an offended look when you continued laughing. She rolled her eyes, going back to her drawing as you went back to your sketch.

Some minutes passed by and you two sat there in silence, surrounded by chatter. You were looking for inspiration in your old works while she was focusing on her new one. You were confused when out the corner of your eye you saw her put down her pencil too. Thinking she might've been done already, you looked over to see it unfinished. But maybe that was the look she was going for. You went to ask about it when she spoke up first.

"Girl, who is that fine ass specimen walking towards us." She asked, gawking over whoever it was. You were sure they couldn't have been that good looking that she had to stop drawing, but you stood corrected when your gaze met Riri's. She had been surveying the room for you, and once the two of you made eye contact she started making her way up the stairs to you. "Wait why she coming up here? And why y'all staring at each other like y'all know each other? Wait, bitch, you know her?"

"Shhh!" You hushed, staring at Riri in shock as start to get closer to where you were seated. Why in the hell why she in your class? Much less in your building? You quickly fixed your shocked face when she stood in front of you, her hands in the pockets of her plain grey nike sweatsuit as she stared down at you. "The fuck is you doing here?" You whispered, looking around for any watching eyes.

"Since when you think it's ok to curse at me?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. You stayed silent, leaning back in your seat as you mugged her instead of apologizing. She chuckled down at you, obviously a little surprised at your attitude but she didn't mind it, knowing it'd be fixed in no time. "You haven't been answering our texts, mama."

"Yeah, I know." You said, rolling your eyes and going back to your sketchbook. Duh, why tf she staring the obvious like you don't know what you've been doing. You knew exactly what you were doing. Being petty. But ain't no way you was gon watch them sit there and talk to that girl and not react. This was you reacting, and they caused it so they can fix it.

Now you were starting to tick her off. You could tell you were. The way she rolled her tongue against her cheek as she looked down at you. The way her hand clenched up inside of her pocket. The way she softly scoffed under breath when your attention went back to your book. You could tell. It was because you knew how to piss her off. No eye contact, attitude, basically just being disrespectful. She was big on respect.

A hand came between you and your book and before you could stop it, it was snatched from your grasp. Your gaze snapped to her as you stood, trying to reach over the desk to grab the book but to no avail. She kept it out of your reach, using her free hand to grab your own, keeping you in place just from that grip. She leaned her head over your shoulder so her mouth was right by your ear.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull, but you're lucky your in class right now. When this class is over you're coming to The Palace. By then I want what ever you got going on fixed." She leaned away from your ear so you were face to face, looking you in the eye. "Or, I will fix it for you. Ok?" She warned, waiting for an answer. You nodded, though you changed to a verbal yes quick after you saw the look on her face. She smirked, pecking your lips before she pulled away. She caught sight of Eden, who's jaw had dropped at the affectionate action. Riri waved, knowing who she was to you before she took her exit, taking the sketchbook with her.

You assumed she took that for assurance that you'd actually show up at The Palace. She knew you rarely went anywhere without it.

Finally relaxing again with her gone, you slumped in your chair. You groaned, dragging a hand down your face as you thought about how the rest of your day was going to go. If God was on your side today, you'd still be able to crawl come tomorrow. But it was Friday. Meaning you didn't have class for the next couple of days meaning both Riri and Shuri were less likely to take pity on you. Damn you fucked up. Why couldn't Riri have came on a Teusday?

"Bitch, you know Riri? Wait never mind, you fuck Riri? I couldn't tell that was her at first but you're with Riri? Wait a minute don't she got a girlfriend? And you bottom too? I knew you was just shit talking all them times you-"

"Eden!" You interrupted her, not enjoying the rant that was soon to come. "Yes, I'm with Riri. Yes she has a girlfriend, I'm with her too. Also no one needs to know about the whole bottom shit, you know? We can just...keep it to ourselves." You admitted, looking around the room for anyone that might've been watching the whole interaction. Why did she have to pull that in front everyone? She could've pulled you outside, texted you. You know what, maybe she did text, you had been ignoring her to be fair.

"We gon circle back to the bottom thing but girl you're with two fuckin drug dealers?!" Eden whisper-shouted but still you shushed her, not exactly fond of the idea of them getting caught. "I am shushing! How did you even manage to- wait how the fuck did she get in here?" She asked, looking around like she felt unsafe now.

"Girl first of all calm down. Acting like someone coming to kidnap your ass. They don't do that type of shit anyway. And that front office call was more than likely her so she could make her way up here. I also heard there was a tour or something today? She proli pretended to be apart of it." You answered, still stressed about what you were going to do after this class. You hoped it felt as long as English usually did, the longer you have to form a plan the better.

"Don't she go to MIT? The hell is she doing on Harvard campus?" Eden asked, but more to herself. For the first time since Riri left, she turned to look at you, seeing the nervous look on your face. "Girl why you shaking in your boots for? You bout to get your doonies beat down goodt. By two people! I'd be clacking my heels."

"I'm not even sure that's what's gon happen for real. That's what's making me nervous." You replied, taking your nail into your mouth to bite. Your best friend shrugged, going back to her painting.

"Well either way if you're not here next week I'll tell your teachers you had some sort of accident. Maybe one about your legs not working." She said, giggling to herself. You looked at her with a fake annoyed face, holding in the smile that threatened to show itself.

"You think you funny, huh?" ---------------- Finally, your last class was over. Usually you'd be happy but unfortunately it did not go by as slow as you had hoped. You had no plan. You'd have to go to The Palace.

"I still can't believe you ain't tell me." Eden said, packing up her bag. You rolled your eyes at her dramatics, hearing her sniff like she was crying. You swung your own bag over your shoulder, waiting for her to be finished.

"Girl please. Like you be telling me every person that be dicking you down every two to five business days." You scoffed. Eden paused her actions, lifting her eyes to stare at me.

"You ain't een had to do that." She shook her head, finally fitting that fat ass computer into that small ass bag. She threw her bag on and we started to head to the door. As soon as we turned into the hallway we were face to face with Riri. She had been posted up on the wall checking her watch. Eden looked between the two of us, quickly dismissing herself while wishing me good luck.

Ri watched her leave before turning back to me, pushing herself off the wall. She was in the same outfit from before, except now her gold chain was untucked, and you could see what shoes she was wearing. They were just some dunks, ones Shuri bought all three of y'all so we could be matching. Coincidently, you happened to be wearing yours too. Riri leaned in closer to me, You thought she was going to greet you with a kiss. At the last minute, she swerved her head, reaching out and pulling my book bag from off your shoulder.

Yeah. Deserved that one.

She pulled your bag over her own shoulder, reaching her hand out to grab yours and smiling when you took it.

"I see ya attitude fixed." She said, using my hand to pull me so I was walking in front of her, then dropping it. "For now anyways."

"How you even here? I'm sure you got classes or something." You asked, wrapping your arms around yourself when you made it outside. It had gotten colder since morning. You'd forgotten to check the weather again and were wearing a short sleeve shirt. It was a little big too, which made it easier for the win to blow through.

"I got my ways. You of all people should know that by now." She answered shortly, giving you just enough for it to pass as an answer. You felt a soft fabric touch your shoulders and looked behind you to see Riri now in a grey shirt, continuing to make sure her hoodie was covering your shoulders.

"Thank you." You smiled, sticking your arms through the sleeves of the sweater. You zipped up the hoodie, leaning into the girl as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder, now next to you. She leaned down to press a kiss to your temple.

"'Course, ma." She muttered, using her free hand to take her phone out. You sunk into her some more. As petty as you had been, you'd miss her. You'd miss them. Of course you did, but you still weren't happy about the girl. You knew, however, there was no competition. Riri and Shuri would never do that to you. It was just the mere fact that they had entertained her. That's the part that bothered you.

You went to turn into the parking lot, only to be pulled in another direction by Riri. You looked up at her confused, but followed her nonetheless. She led you to some field on campus where a group of white guys were hanging. Some throwing a football, others just sitting and talking. She went up to one of the ones that were sitting, snatching the phone out of his hand. Your eyes widened, stepping behind her a little as she dropped her arm from around you, using both hands to type on his phone.

"Yo! What the fuck?" He yelled, standing up so his height difference was apparent. Riri was unfazed, continuing to type something on his phone. You looked over her shoulder, only to see her stuck on his cashapp, he was signed out. Obviously she didn't know the boy's password.

"You owe me." She told him, muttering something else under her breath as she turned the phone to him. "5k."

"5- what?!" He gritted his teeth, glancing around to make sure no one heard what they were talking about.

"I supplied your entire party white boy. That's how much you and your frat bros snorted. Pay up." Riri demanded. One thing you were quick to learn about her, there were three things she didn't play about. One of those being her money. She was gonna get it one way or another and when the boy didn't move you had learned that today it was going to be another.

You could see Riri getting even more irritated than she already was about the payment being late in the first place. You saw her survey the place one last time before lifting her shirt just little, flashing something. You couldn't see it from behind her but the look on the boy's face told you what it was.

"Ok, damn." The boy agreed, snatching the phone. Riri dropped the end of her shirt, watching as he typed in the information. Soon he turned around the screen to face the two of you, showing that it was sent.

"Good, next time you do a deal with me again, have your money with you. I'm not doing no more after pay with you." She said, not waiting for a reply before she grabbed your hand again and started walking away.

She led you to a familiar foreign and flashy car, opening the door for you to get in and crawling in after you. You could see Okoye, their right hand women, in the driver's seat through the divider of the front and back of the car. You waved shyly and she smiled at you through the rear view mirror.

"I thought you wanted me to meet you at the club, not pick me up." You expressed with slight confusion in your voice. Riri finished typing some things on her phone, sliding it back into her pocket to give you her undivided attention.

"So now you wanna listen?" She questioned, doing the same tilt with her head that she always did when she was mad. So she was definitely still mad. Okoye voided her eyes of the situation after hearing Riri's words, sliding the divider closed. You looked down at your hands, picking at the fresh polish on your nails. Only looking up when you heard Riri snickering. "Clearly I had some business to handle, figured I'd might as well pick you up too. That way I knew you couldn't avoid us. Not that you could even if I didn't."

You rolled your eyes at her cocky behavior, pulling out your own phone from your pocket. You typed in some things, noticing Riri looking at your screen from her position. Dialing your sister's number, you put it up to your ear waiting for her to pick up. "Hey Bianca!" You greeted once it finally did.

"Hey y/n, what's up?"

"Do you have any plans for this weekend? I'm gonna be running a little late tomorrow night, but I don't want you to be staying up late if you do have something to do." You questioned, feeling slightly guilty to be asking this of her.

"No no, it's fine! He can stay longer, it's no problem." Kylie answered, you could practically hear the smile in her voice. Man she must love kids. Asante had been staying there for a week now. Bianca had practically begged for him to come over and spend some time with his cousins, of course you said yes. She didn't live far from you so it wasn't like he couldn't attend school, and you could seen him whenever you liked. He'd been staying there since Wednesday now.

"Ok, thank you so much! I'll send you guys more money for some food and stuff. Could you please put Asante on the phone?" You asked, deciding against ending this call just to call the 6 year old's iPad. The babysitter agreed, and soon you heard your son's voice.

"Hi mommy!" His preppy voice blared through the phone, making you slightly pull the phone away from your ear in surprise.

"Hey baby." You giggled out, putting the phone against your ear. "Mommy's gonna be a little late coming home tomorrow. Do you think you'll be ok? Bianca's gonna stay with you a little longer."

"Yes! I love Aunty Bey, she bought me a new toy car! Does this mean we can have pizza for dinner?"

"Yes, you can have pizza for dinner." You agreed, laughing at his celebrations over the phone. "Okay, when I take you home you can tell me all about school today. Call me if anything happens, okay? I love you."

"You can tell me about yours too! Love you mommy, bye bye."

"Bye, 'Sante." You sighed, hanging up the phone. You put your phone away, looking at Riri after feeling her eyes on you the whole time. "What?"

"Asante could always come to the house, if you want." She offered, not trying to pressure you. You shook your head, laughing at the suggestion.

"No, thank you. The boy hasn't even met you yet, love." You denied, rubbing your hand over her knee. Riri shrugged, throwing her arm to rest on the back of the seats.

"Who's fault is that?" She taunted, watching as you turned your head away from her. She used her hand to turn your head back to her, wanting you to see that she was serious. "Me and Shuri plan on making you a wife. We aren't going anywhere, y/n. We care about you, which means we care about Asante. But, he's your son, we're not going to pressure you into meeting him. Just know that we want to." She assured. You smiled, pulling her in for a hug which she graciously accepted, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her head on your chest.

"Thank you."

It's not that you didn't want them to meet Asante, your feelings were growing stronger by the day. You didn't stop they'd ever stop growing, really. You were just worried. You didn't want your son hurt. Emotionally, you didn't want him to get attach only for them to not come home one day, a job gone wrong. Physically, they protected you already, and you knew they would protect him even more. But still, there was always room for human error, and you didn't know if that was a chance you were willing to take.

You loved them, but you would always love your son more. Who would you be to purposely put him in harms way for your own gain and comfort? Sacrifice was something you were used to when it came to Asante. But isn't that what mothers do? Then again, maybe there was supposed to be a certain balance. One that you didn't have. --------------- The Palace. It was their club, also their headquarters. It was protected and secured by all women bodyguards, Okoye being one of them. It was also where you met them for the first time, but that's neither here nor there.

You, Okoye, and Riri made your way through the entrance, the metal detector going off as you walked through, but no one said anything. Once you were inside, Riri pressed a small kiss to your head, making you turn to look at her questioningly.

"Go find Shuri, baby. I got something to handle real quick but I'll meet with y'all as soon as I'm done." She stated, signaling Okoye to follow her. You pressed a short kiss to her lips, wishing her luck with whatever she had to do. Then, both her and Okoye left your side.

You never felt scared to be alone in their club. You knew for a fact more than half of the guards were watching your every move, knowing they'd probably suffer consequences if anything happened to you under the roof of The Palace.

Anyway, back to the problem at hand.

You did not want to find Shuri. She was more than likely pissed. Just like you knew what made Riri mad, you knew what made Shuri mad. And one thing she hated was being ignored by anyone, and you were no exception.

There was also that fact that she was the harsher one out of the two. Usually, you could always pull one over with Riri. Talking back, rolling your eyes, smacking your lips, the whole nine yards. At least, for a while. After a certain amount of times she'd get mad too. But with Shuri, she'd be mad if she even heard you thinking about talking back.

You weren't scared of her by any means, you knew she wouldn't do anything to hurt you purposefully. Intimidated though? Oh yeah, 100 percent you were shitting your pants.

But their was no doubt Shuri had been alerted of your arrival and was keeping and eye out for you. So either she knew where your were and was on her way, or she was already here.

You sighed, excepting your fate as you made your way over to the stairs. She usually stayed on the upper two levels as they were more secluded and had some VIP sections. You climbed all the way up to the third level, hoping for some time to prepare yourself before she caught you.

Your hope was crushed when a hand wrapped around your throat, your back being pressed up against the wall behind you harshly. You were going to let out a panicked scream when your eyes met her familiar chocolate ones, a cocky smirk that her and Riri shared spreading across her face.

"My y/n." She greeted with a light smile, letting you catch a glimpse of the gold grills she wore today. You reached up to grab the wrist of the hang currently around your throat. Shuri noticed, loosening her grip just a little with caution. "What a surprise it is to see you here after what I think was-" She pretended to count on her free hand. "Right. Three weeks."

"It was actually two and a half weeks. Unless you rounded-" Your sentence was cut off when she tightened her grip once again, a silent warning that she was not in the mood for your slick comments today.

"Still a smart aleck." She observed. Her eyes trailed down your figure to take in your outfit, Riri's hoodie that was now open had fallen to an off the shoulder look, showcasing the cropped short sleeve you had on. Other than that, you just had on some simple ripped jeans with writing on them.

Her eyes returned to yours, a certain glint in her eye that made you nervous. Just like Riri had, she leaned in closer so that her lips were right next to your ear as she spoke, her tone sending shivers down your spine. "I want you to tell me why you think it is ok to ignore me. To ignore Ri."

Keeping your act up, your turned you head away so she wasn't right next to your ear. Shuri only chuckled at your defiance, taking the opportunity to mark up the now open side of your neck. The hand that was once around your throat moved down so it was on you hip, keeping you pinned against the wall as her lips trailed down, pressing light kisses to your neck that you knew would get harsher soon.

Shuri moved her head so she was in your line of sight again.

"Things haven't changed since you were gone. When I ask you something, you answer." She said, watching as you turned away from her again, crossing your arms. She took your chin in between her thumb and finger, forcing you to look at her. "What happened to my good girl, baby?" She asked, swiping her thumb over your bottom lip. For a second, you almost fell for it. But you snapped yourself out of it, ripping yourself from her grasp and quickly walking away from her before she could react.

You were confused when you didn't hear her footsteps following after you. She could easily catch up as you were still very in her line of sight. But soon your question was answered when Riri appeared out of nowhere, turning a corner and backing into the same position you were just in. Pressed against a wall.

"Such a fucking brat. Walking away when we're talking to you, talking back. What are we gonna do with you?" She asked rhetorically. She gave you a smile, letting her hand come up to pull at one of your hairs that had fallen out of the bun you made. Shuri came to stand next to her and you pressed yourself further into the wall, if that was even possible. Separately, you were willing to pull almost everything. But when the two were finally together, you knew better than to try anything.

Unfortunately, it was too late for anything else. You had to continue. Gots to see it through my boy.

You were gonna 'see it through' alright. ---------------- "Please, I came already." You whined, trying to push Shuri's head away as you came down from your high for the umpteenth time. Riri's hand grabbed yours, pulling them away while she kissed on your neck, trying to calm you down.

"Cum again." Shuri muttered, pressing a wet kiss to your overstimulated clit, chuckling when you jumped from how sensitive you were.

You three had been going at it for what felt like forever. After the whole confrontation, they drove you to their house, teasing you the whole way. Once you did get there, they spared no time getting you to the bed. Since then, it felt like you had done everything under the sun but stop.

Literally, everything. You'd lost count of how many times you'd came, but you knew for a fact it had to be in double digits. You could only imagine how you looked.

Hair frizzy, sweaty, tear stains running down your cheeks, cum around your lips that you were unable to wipe yourself. Riri and Shuri didn't bother to either, quite liking the look on you. You were exhausted, overstimulated, and clinging on to consciousness by a pinky toenail. But they never stopped. There hasn't been a break since you walked through the door.

At first, you were conflicted. You couldn't tell if you even wanted them to stop. It hurt so bad that it started to feel good. The pain blended in with the pleasure and you couldn't help but ask for more. But when you felt another one of Shuri's digits dip in for another round you knew something had to give.

"Okayyy, I'm sorry. Please." You begged, seeing your vision get cloudy as more tears appeared. Riri's voice came from behind you, you could feel her warm breath on your neck though you could barely make out what she was saying.

"Sorry for what, mama?" She pressed. All that came from you were mumbles of an apology as you still tried to break your hands from her grasp.

In the moment you weren't in a good position to realize it, but the fact that she could keep you pinned down with just her own strength was making you even more wet than you already were. Shuri realized though, smirking between your legs as she slowed down her pace.

Shuri used her free hand to push herself up from the bed, kissing up your body and over fresh marks until she met your tired eyes. "What are you sorry for?" She repeated, looking down at you with lidded eyes of her own.

You began to reply but only a groan left you when you felt her purposely angle her fingers at your favorite spot. "Hm?" She mocked, still waiting for an answer.

"M'm sorry for- fuck, sorry for ignoring you." You apologized, your head falling back onto Riri's shoulder as your eyes rolled behind your lids, feeling Shuri speed up once again, targeting that same spot. "Shit, Shuri please."

"Please what, baby?" She teased, tilting her head with a mock of confusion. You whined again, frustrated with her taunting.

She shared a look over your shoulder with Riri, who released your hands and started to pin down you hips instead. Your hands immediately flew out for something to ground you. The first things you could get your hands on being Shuri's wrist and Riri's hand.

"Do you want her stop or do you want more? You're confusing her baby." Riri added, watching closely at how your brows furrowed and your back arched when she applied the slightest amount of pressure to your abused clit, practically shoving you over the edge.

"Stop! I want her to stop." You mumbled, finally able to get your thoughts together enough to make a complete sentence. Having some pity, Shuri slowly dragged her fingers against your walls while she pulled out, curling them one last time just to see you squirm.

Just as slow, she brought them to her lips. Feeling both your and Riri's eyes watching her carefully, she decided at the last second that she wanted you to take them instead. She tapped them on your close lips, watching as you opened them to take in her coated digits.

Taking the sight in, she hums, obviously please with your obedience (as it did take a long time to get back). That was all the acknowledgement she gave you before she and Riri made eye contact over your shoulder again, and Riri's hand began to circle your bud again.

You whimpered, trying to back yourself into the girl to get away from her touch. They both ignored you in their own conversation about what to do with you, Riri keeping you in place while Shuri forced her fingers further down your throat, making you gag.

Suddenly, the feeling of Shuri was ripped from your mouth and replaced with Riri's tongue as they tried to distract you from the feeling of Shuri's slender fingers dipping back into your already sensitive hole. You immediately pulled away, already feeling yourself starting to ache.

"Shuriii." You dragged, watching as the girl lowered between your thighs again. She shushed you, placing a delicate kiss to your thigh, though dangerously close with your entrance.

"Just one more baby, I promise." She soothed, caressing the same thigh she had kissed with her free hand. "Can you do that for us, love?" She spoke softly, taking one of your hands in hers to kiss.

"You've been doing so good for us tonight, pretty girl. We just wanna make you feel good one last time, can you let us do that mama?" Riri coaxed from behind you, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach to calm you. Debating, you took Riri's hand in your other one, trying to relax yourself into her. "One more, we promise." She whispered, pressing a sweet kiss right under your ear.

"Okay." You agreed. Your words came out mumbled but they both understood you. Shuri smiled up at you, pressing another kiss to your thigh as a thanks before she joined her fingers that had never stopped moving.

The second her tongue makes contact with your clit your hands are fisting through her hair, pulling around the tight coils on her head.

There are a few more strokes of her tongue before she wraps her lips around your awaiting clit, your slick coating her tongue as she swirls it around your clit just before wrapping her lips around the bud.

Her fingers are buried deep inside of your cunt as she sucks your pulsing bundle of nerves into her mouth. There's a second where she sucks just hard enough to make your vision go white at the same time Riri decides to pinch and rub on the sensitive buds on your chest.

Feeling the coil in your stomach tighten, you let out a load moan when Shuri curls her fingers against your g spot one more time before you let go, clenching the sheets in your hand. Riri whispers sweet praises in your ear, rubbing soothing circles on your hips to calm you down while Shuri fingers you through your high, waiting for your legs to stop shaking before she pulls away, your essence coating both her fingers and lips.

She slipped the drenched fingers between her lips, licking your cum from between her fingers before leaning over your frame to trap Riri's lips in her own, who moaned at the familiar taste of you. Though you were drained, you still manage to keep your hooded eyes open long enough to watch them swapping your cum with each others tongues, eventually swallowing when they had enough.

"Are you ok baby?" Shuri checked, rubbing your side comfortingly. You nodded, sinking into Riri more as she rubbed your thighs. Shuri leaned down, pressing multiple kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and nose, making you laugh tiredly, pushing her away. She smiled, leaving you to go get some new sheets, clothes and something to clean you up.

"It wasn't too much, right?" Riri asked softly. Confused by the question, you craned your head to look up at her, not even wanting to attempt to move your bottom half. Riri had already been looking down at you. "I mean, you didn't pass out this time, but still, we didn't overdo it too much?"

"No, Ri," You answered, reaching up with one of your hands to smooth over her cheek. "It felt good, I promise. Even though there was one point where I was fighting for consciousness." You joked and she smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "To be fair though, it was supposed to be a punishment so I figured it wouldn't be all love making and soft caressing."

"Yeah, why were you ignoring us in the first place?" She questioned. You shrugged distractedly, running your thumb over her furrowed brow. "y/n, I'm serious." She said, taking your hand from her face and holding it in her's. You let out a dramatic groan. She was ruining the vibes.

"I got mad because y'all were talking to that bitch Ashley." You mumbled, playing with the hand that had took yours. Before she could even respond you continued on, defending your actions. "But I had a right to be mad, I mean y'all went into a whole ass private room with that chick. Without me!"

"Ok, first off, Okoye was in there so we couldn't have done anything, not like we would want to. We only talk to Ashley about business, that conversation wasn't any different. But, if it helps whenever we talk to her again, we'll make sure you're there too." She compromised and you agreed, thanking her. You two continued talking until Shuri returned with a wet cloth, some sheets, and new clothes.

And the night ended with a nice warm bath. Which you fell asleep in. ----------------

You groaned waking up to the sound of your ringtone. You stretched, feeling a certain weight on your chest. Looking down you saw Riri sleeping soundly with one hand up your shirt and on your boob, Shuri spooning her. You smiled at the sight, reaching over to your nightstand for your phone. You wondered how two supposedly high alert dealers hadn't woken up from the sound, but no matter.

"Bianca?" You mumbled, messing with the features on Riri's face. Two big and bag drug lords and yet they looked like puppies in their sleep.

"y/n, when are you coming to get Asante? No rush, because I'd keep him around forever if you'd let me, I just wanna have him packed up and ready to go." Your sister asked, you could hear your nieces and nephews running around in the background. You pulled the phone away from your ear, checking your phone and groaning once you saw how close it was to noon.

"I'll be there at like, one. I still have to shower and everything." You said, rubbing your hand down your face. You and Bianca chatted about some smaller things before she finally hung up, giving you time to get ready. You smiled at the two next to you, leaning down to press a kiss onto both of their lips, even though they weren't awake to respond to it.

You pulled Riri's strong grip off your titty. She was holding on it like a hungry newborn. You replaced yourself with the pillow behind you, slipping out of the bed, only for you to stumble into the nightstand when you did, startling both of them awake.

The two sprung up from their place as if they weren't just knocked with drool in the corner of their mouths, searching the room frantically until their eyes settled on you, who was currently using the nightstand to stand. They turned to look at each other, holding in their laughs. You glared at them, trying to keep yourself upright so they took your next words serious.

"Both of y'all shut the fuck up and come help me to the bathroom."

"We ain't een say nothing." Riri protested, though she swung her legs to the side, getting up to come help you.

"You ain't need to, your face said enough." You said, holding your hand up for her to help you. Riri disregarded your hand, her small frame bending down to toss you over her shoulder. "Riri!"

"You told me to help you, now you mad I'm helping you. You just acting like this cause we fucked ya lace front off and now you walking like there's an earthquake."

"Shut the hell up and take me to the damn bathroom, Riri!" You demanded, smacking her back and flipping off Shuri who watched on from her position in the bed, clearly amused. ----------------

BRING BACK SHURI AND RIRI X READER ALL 2024!! I'm jumping into the writing scene because i honestly miss the era where everything was about them, and i miss some of my fav writers😔✊🏾

anyways hope yall enjoyed

thank you guys for the inspiration, whether old fics or new @shinsousliya @inmyheadimobsessed @quintessencewrites @saintwrld @marsolgy @pinkwright @vixentheplanet

#riri williams #riri wiliams x reader #ironheart #ironheart x reader #shuri x reader #shuri udaku #shuri x riri #dominique thorne #letitia wright #shuriri x reader #shuri udaku x reader #riri x reader #wlw

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