#telling him that he deserves to suffer more and live through that suffering

[aeralux]

"Love Game" - Aegon Targaryen

Modern!Aegon x Reader (pt2 to Wicked Game, but could be read on its own)

Summary: After Aemond discards you like you're nothing more than a "convenient hole to fuck" (according to his words). Who better to make him jealous than his own older brother?

Warnings: SMUT 18+; rough sex; name calling (slut etc...); jealous Aemond; choking; LOUD af sex; alcohol consumption; angst (like a lil); slight Aemond x reaader (?); mentions of infidelity (Aemond)

Words: 8k

Notes: I'm not responsible for the media YOU consume.

Aemond Targaryen deserved to suffer. That was the only thought running through your head as you lived your day-to-day life. Even as weeks passed, the anger and bitterness inside you only grew stronger and stronger.

You wanted to pay him back, not just out of a sense of vengeance but because you felt it was necessary. He was older than you, and to be honest, he seemed to not even have any feelings that could be hurt.

But that didn’t matter; it wasn’t just about him. Hurting him would mean hurting your sister, the one person you cared about more than anyone else. You couldn’t let her find out what you had done—how you had betrayed her trust and broken the bond that held you together. The weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, filling you with a mix of guilt and fear.

He seemed to be doing well enough though, pretending that everything was fine. Looking at your sister with love in his eye, telling her sweet nothings. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, that pretentious jerk. With that same mouth, he had kissed you like he never even loved your sister.

Maybe you just needed another body to warm your bed to get over him, to forget all about that one-eyed freak and move on with your life. You had better things to do, truthfully.

Aemond catches your eye and flashes you a smirk, a knowing glint in his depths. He knows exactly what you're thinking, and can see the anger simmering beneath the surface. He thinks he's won, that he has you right where he wants you - desperate, bitter, and powerless.

Your sister, bless her naive heart, is completely oblivious to the tension between you. She chatters on about her day, laughing at Aemond's witty remarks, oblivious to the fact that the man she loves has been balls deep in her sister mere days ago.

Aemond reaches over, squeezing her hand affectionately. "Darling, you look radiant tonight. The most beautiful woman in the room, as always," he purrs, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

Your sister blushes, preening under his praise. If only she knew the real reason behind his smooth words and charming demeanour. The way he used to call you his 'dirty little secret', his 'convenient hole' to fuck when he needed release.

You feel the bile rise in your throat at the memory, your anger boiling over. You need to get away from him, from the sickening sight of him pretending to be the perfect boyfriend.

Suddenly, you stand up abruptly, the chair screeching loudly against the floor. Your sister looks at you in surprise, concern etched on her face.

"Sweetie? Are you alright?" she asks, noticing your pale complexion and the way your hands shake slightly.

"Yeah, listen I gotta go. Baela just texted she's having some people over at her place tonight. We're gonna pregame there and then hit up this new club downtown. Don't wait up, alright?" You say distractedly, already rising from your seat and grabbing your phone.

You shoot a quick smirk in Aemond's direction, just to let him know this is your way of getting back at him. Two can play his games.

"I'll be Quiet...I hope," you add with a wry smile, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you saunter off towards your bedroom. You make sure to put an extra sway in your hips as you walk away, just so he can get a good long look at your best asset in this tight skirt. 

You slip into your room and begin to get ready quickly, shimmying into the slinky black dress you bought on sale last week. You admire yourself in the mirror, confident and sexy, ready to take on the night and forget all about your sister'slying, cheating, manipulating bastard of a boyfriend.

Let Aemond jerk off to thoughts of you tonight, the dirty bastard. Probably will anyway, even if you're not there, you muse with a smirk, slipping on your silver kitten heels and grabbing your purse.

Aemond watches, his gaze lingering on the sway of your hips as you strut out of the room. He feels a flicker of annoyance at your snide remark, the obvious attempt at getting under his skin. Two can indeed play this game.

He turns to your sister, flashing her a disarming smile. "Ignore her," he says dismissively, waving a hand in the direction you disappeared. "You know how unpredictable your sister can be sometimes."

Your sister frowns slightly, a hint of worry in her eyes. "I just hope she's not getting mixed up with the wrong crowd again," she muses, biting her lower lip in concern.

Aemond laughs, a rich, deep sound that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't worry about it, my love. I'm sure she knows what she's doing." At least, he hopes she doesn't know what she's in for tonight. The thought of you stumbling home drunk and throwing yourself at some random guy causes an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. He quickly pushes the thought away, focusing instead on your sister's lovely face.

The events of the night are hazy, interspersed with flashes of strobing lights, pounding music and the warmth of too many bodies pressed together on the dance floor. You recall Jace shouting something about an Uber, but the details are lost in a haze of alcohol and adrenaline.

Somewhere between the club entrance and the bar, you found yourself getting dragged to the floor by a drunk and overeager Rhaena. Before you could protest, her hands were already gripping your hips as she pulled you back against her. You began to shamelessly dance with her, practically grinding against her on the dancefloor.

Aemond slipped further from your thoughts with each pulsing heartbeat radiating from the speakers. For a blissful, drifting moment, everything else faded away - the betrayal, the anger, the heartache. It was just Rhaena, the thumping music, and the heady, almost electric atmosphere.

You could feel the eyes of strangers on you, but in the darkness and the buzz of the crowd, you didn't care. You let the music take over, let it consume you and make you feel alive.

Rhaena grins drunkenly at you as she grinds against you on the crowded dance floor, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "Woo! You're so hot!" Rhaena shouts over the pounding music, her words slightly slurred. She's a few drinks in, her inhibitions lowered.

Baela bounces up to you both, her silver hair swishing wildly as she moves to the music. She's wearing a tight, shimmering mini dress that shows off her toned dancer's body. "Girl, we need shots!" Baela yells over the pounding beat, her eyes sparkling with excitement and a bit of intoxication.

Jace, never one to miss out on a drinking opportunity, nods eagerly. He's been eyeing the bar, ready for the next round. Cregan just smirks, his gaze flickering between you, Baela and Rhaena. The strobing lights of the club illuminate his chiselled features and the mischievous glint in his eyes as he watches the two beautiful women grind together.

You flash Cregan a coquettish smile, playfully biting your finger as you catch his heated gaze. Wiggling your eyebrows teasingly, you let out a tinkling giggle, enjoying the blatant admiration in his eyes. The strobing lights of the club dance across your beautiful features.

Cregan watches, transfixed by your playful antics with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes rove appreciatively over your curves, lingering on the way your dress rides up your thighs as you dance. He takes a swig of his beer, never taking his heated gaze off you.

You lean in close to Baela, shouting over the deafening music and the chatter of the crowd. "Ooh, let's do tequila shots!" you suggest, your voice lilting and eager. "No, wait, vodka! Neat, no lime or salt!" Jace argues, his own words slightly slurred.

Rhaena giggles drunkenly at your shot suggestion, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Tequila it is!" she agrees enthusiastically, already pulling you off the dance floor towards the bar. Baela and Jace follow close behind, with Jace hollering out to the bartender.

As you reach the bar, Rhaena leans in close, her alcohol-laced breath hot against your ear. "You're such a tease," she accuses playfully, jerking her chin towards where Cregan is watching you with blatant appreciation. "The poor guy looks like he wants to devour you whole."

Baela chimes in, grinning widely as the bartender lines up the shots. "I don't blame him. Look at you, working that dress like it's your job." She winks at you, her own dress riding dangerously high on her thighs as she leans against the bar.

Jace slides the shots towards you both, his own eyes a bit glazed over from drinking. "Alright ladies, bottoms up!" he cheers, already tossing his shot back.

You toss back the tequila shot, feeling the burn of the alcohol slide down your throat and warm your belly. As you set the glass down, you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. Your heart seizes in panic for a moment, fearing it might be him. But as you turn to look, you realize it's not Aemond, but his older brother, Aegon.

Relief floods through you as you meet Aegon's gaze, his smile widening in recognition. You can't help but smile back, giving him a little wave. Aegon is handsome, like all the Targaryen men, but he doesn't have the same intense, almost frightening charisma as his younger brother.

Aegon returns your smile, his grin widening as he notices your relieved expression. He's always found you charming. Not to mention the way that dress hugs your curves in all the right places. He saunters over, the crowd parting easily for the handsome man.

"Aemond's girlfriend's little sister," Aegon greets, his voice a low rumble over the pounding music. "Looking as lovely as ever. What brings a pretty thing like you out tonight?" He leans against the bar beside you, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your form.

Aegon is no stranger to the effect he has on women. With his golden hair, piercing eyes, and the strong, muscular build that comes with being a Targaryen, he's used to turning heads. But there's a warmth to his demeanour that Aemond lacks, a kindness in his eyes that makes people feel at ease in his presence.

He watches as Rhaena, Baela and Jace chat and laugh, already a bit tipsy. His gaze flickers back to you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

You lean back against the bar, casually crossing your legs as you eye up Aegon with a smirk. "Aegon, these are my friends - Baela, Rhaena, Jace and Cregan," you say loudly enough to be heard over the blaring music. You gesture to each of them in turn, noting how Baela openly checks out Aegon's handsome features while Rhaena leans in to whisper something giggling to Jace, no doubt an impressed comment about your sister's 'brother-in-law's' looks.

Turning back to Aegon, you let your gaze shamelessly wander over his muscular frame, taking in the way his tailored shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and the way his dress pants hug his lean waist. "This is Aegon, my sister's boyfriend's older brother," you introduce him with a naughty lilt to your voice.

Aegon knows he's being checked out, and he takes your brazen appraisal as an invitation to do the same. His eyes slowly travel the length of your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, and the way the skirt of your dress rides up your thigh.

"A pleasure to meet you all," he says smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. He turns back to you, his gaze intense and appraising. "And an even greater pleasure to see you again. You look absolutely stunning," he adds, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone.

Aegon flags down the bartender, ordering another round of tequila shots for everyone. "Drinks are on me tonight," he declares, sliding the shots towards you and your friends with a wink.

As the night goes on, Aegon stays close by your side, his hand either resting on the small of your back or holding yours possessively as you dance. He makes it clear he finds you captivating, desirable even. His flirtations grow bolder with each drink, his body pressing closer to yours as the crowd jostles around you both on the dance floor.

You grin as Aegon's hands boldly explore your curves while you move to the beat, a shiver running down your spine as you feel his arousal pressing insistently against your backside. You spin around to face him with a coy smile.

His eyes darken with lust as they meet yours, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks. You lean in close, your voice breathy as you tease, "Careful Aegon, don't get too excited now."

You punctuate your words with a playful swat to his muscular chest, feeling his firm muscle beneath your palm. Glancing over at Baela and Rhaena, you see them watching your exchange with curious eyes and understanding grins.

You roll your eyes at them playfully before turning your attention back to the Blue-Eyed Adonis before you.

Aegon chuckles lowly at your flirtatious teasing, not put off in the least. If anything, your coy smile and the way your hand lingers on his chest only ignite the desire smouldering in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm already far too excited," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slides lower, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. He squeezes the supple flesh, pulling you more firmly against him so you can feel the hard press of his arousal.

"I could take you right here if I wanted to. Bend you over the bar and fuck you until you scream my name."

His lips brush against your ear, sending tingles down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the sheer masculine power of him. Part of you wants to give in, to let him have his way with you right here in the middle of the crowded club. But a bigger part of you wants to make him work for it, to tease and torture him.

Your eyes glint with mischief as you meet his heated gaze. "Is that a promise or a threat?" you ask, a kittenish smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

Aegon leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. "Perhaps we should get out of here and find somewhere... more private," he suggests, his tone leaving no doubt about his intentions.

He glances over at Baela and Rhaena, who are not-so-subtly looking and mouthing 'holy shit' at you. Aegon smirks, clearly amused by their reaction.

Turning his attention back to you, Aegon reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering to caress your cheek. "What do you say, little one? Ready to get out of here and have some real fun?" he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your lower lip teasingly.

You lean in close, your lips brushing against Aegon's ear as you whisper sultrily, "I've been hoping you'd say something like that all night."

Your fingertips dance along his chiselled jawline before giving his earlobe a playful nip, tugging lightly. "My bed sound good enough for you?"

You press your body flush against his, letting him feel every curve and contour. "Tonight, you can do whatever you want with me~" you breathe. Your hand boldly cups the prominent bulge in his tailored trousers, giving it a teasing squeeze.

"Unless you'd rather stay and give my friends here a real show," you add with a coquettish wink at Baela and Jace, who watch your heated exchange with avid fascination.

His eyes darken with lust and he inhales sharply, the prominent bulge in his trousers twitching under your bold touch. He’s already imagining all the things he wants to do to your lush body, the ways he wants to make you scream and beg for more.

Aegon's lips curve into a wicked grin at your teasing offer to give your friends a show. "Tempting," he murmurs, one hand sliding down to grope your ass roughly. "I'd love to fuck you in front of an audience." His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. "But I want you all to myself tonight," he growls. "I'm going to take you home and use this sexy little body of yours in ways you've never been used before."

"Enough to drink? I'm ready to go whenever you are," he says, getting restless by now.

"Come on then," you purr, smirking up at Aegon with a wink. "Call the cab, I'm ready to go."

You blow kisses goodbye to Baela and Rhaena, giggling mischievously as you start leading Aegon out of the crowded club, your hips swaying with each step. The anticipation of the night ahead makes your heart flutter with excitement.

Aegon smirks as you lead the way out of the club, his eyes glued to your backside. He keeps a possessive hand on your lower back as he guides you out into the cool night air. The cab arrives quickly, and Aegon opens the door for you, allowing you to slip inside before sliding in beside you.

As the cab pulls away from the curb, Aegon's hand finds your thigh, his fingers. He starts to slowly slide his hand up your thigh, inching closer and closer to your centre. "Can't keep my hands off you," he murmurs, leaning in close. "You have no idea how much I want you."

Aegon's lips find your neck, placing hot kisses along the sensitive skin. His hand creeps higher, pushing the hem of your dress up as his fingers brush against your lace panties. He can feel the damp heat emanating from your core, making him let out a whine against your neck.

His eyes flash with lust as they meet yours in the darkness of the cab. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. "I can't wait to get my hands on you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, promise-filled kiss.

You can't help but shiver with anticipation, your body already aching for his touch. You know this is going to be a chance to get revenge on your sister's lying boyfriend in the most delicious way possible.

The cab rolls to a smooth halt outside the familiar apartment building, the sudden stillness a stark contrast to the pulsing energy of the club. You gather your clutch and step out onto the pavement, one shapely leg at a time.

Aegon emerges a moment later from the cab with an air of casual confidence. He places a hand on the small of your back as you walk towards the entrance, his touch igniting sparks beneath the thin fabric of your dress.

As you approach the door, you pull ahead slightly, fishing your keys from your purse. With a coy smile, you glance back over your shoulder at Aegon. "You don't have to wait a moment longer," you whisper, the night air cool against your flushed cheeks.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you slip the key into the lock, a thrill of excitement and nerves coursing through you. Over your shoulder, you see the hunger in Aegon's eyes, the way they drink in every inch of your form in the dim light of the entryway. You know he wants you, and the knowledge sends heat coursing through your body.

Biting your lip softly, you step inside, holding the door open and letting Aegon follow you in.

Aegon follows you inside, his eyes never leaving your swaying hips and the tantalizing view of your ass. As soon as he’s through the door, he kicks it shut behind him and immediately pulls you flush against his hard chest. "I don't want to wait another moment," he murmurs hotly, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he walks you backwards towards your bedroom.

His lips find yours in a searing, passionate kiss. It's a kiss full of pent-up desire and hunger, a kiss that speaks to just how much he wants you. His tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours and exploring every inch of you. He tastes like tequila and sin, and you can't get enough.

Aegon's hands roam your curves greedily as he walks you to your room. He squeezes the globes of your ass, pulling you harder against the prominent bulge in his trousers. His fingers dipped under the hem of your dress, teasing the soft skin of your thighs. He wants to touch and feel every inch of you.

Breaking the kiss, Aegon tugs you into your bedroom, his eyes burning into yours. He looks around your room, taking in the feminine space before his gaze lands back on you. A wicked grin spreads across his face as his eyes rake over your body, drinking in the sight of you.

Without warning, Aegon reaches out and grabs you, pulling you back against his hard chest. He kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands grip your hips. He wants to mark you, to claim you, to make you his. He wants to fuck you until you forget your name and only remember his.

Aemond tosses and turns in bed, his mind a whirlwind of twisted thoughts and dark imaginings of you. He can't get the image of your scantily clad body grinding against another out of his head, no matter how hard he tries.

His hand moves faster over his aching cock, stroking himself with hard, punishing grips. He pictures you pinned against the wall of the club's bathroom, your dress hiked up around your waist as some nameless man pounds into you from behind. The thought makes him groan, his hips bucking up into his fist.

Just as Aemond nears the edge, he hears the front door slam open downstairs. He freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as he wonders if it's you stumbling home, drunk and reeking of sex and another man's cologne.

Your sister bursts into the bedroom, fresh out of the shower. "Did you hear the door? Looks like she's finally home...." she starts to say, before noticing Aemond's state of undress and the obvious bulge in the sheets. He exhales heavily, his cock softening slightly at the interruption.

"Oh!" she gasps, a pretty blush spreading across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just thought..." She trails off, biting her lip as she takes in the sight of her boyfriend stroking his impressive erection.

Aemond forces a smile, trying to hide his lingering distraction and frustration. "It's alright, love," he says smoothly. "I think your sister just got back from her little night out. Probably passed out somewhere."

He hopes you're okay because right now, he's in no state to go check on you. Not with his cock still throbbing and his mind full of depraved thoughts.

Aegon's eyes darken with lust as you slip out of your tight dress, the fabric pooling around your feet and leaving you in nothing but a lacy black lingerie set. Your hardened nipples peeking through the delicate material. A thin strip of lace runs between your legs, barely covering your most intimate area.

You step forward as your fingers start to slowly unbutton his shirt. You lean in close, your soft lips brushing against his neck as you whisper sultrily, "You like what you see?"

Your voice is a breathy purr, dripping with seductive promise. You place teasing little kisses along his neck and jaw, feeling his pulse jump beneath your lips. Making Aegon's head fall back, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

Aegon's breathing grows heavier as his eyes rake over your nearly nude form, taking in every inch of exposed skin and curves. The black lace of your lingerie leaves little to the imagination, and he can see the way your nipples strain against the delicate material. His cock throbs almost painfully in his trousers, aching to be buried inside your tight heat.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Aegon growls, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. He can feel every inch of your body pressed against his, and it ignites a hunger in him that he can barely control.

As you slip the shirt off completely, your hands roam over his muscular torso, exploring the hard planes and ridges. You walk your fingers up his chest, feeling his abs flex beneath your touch. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a deep, sensual kiss, your tongue teasing the seam of his mouth.

"I want you so badly Aegon," you murmur against his lips, your voice ragged with desire. Your hands slide down to his belt, starting to undo it with nimble fingers. "I need you to fuck me, right here, right now. I want you to claim me, make me yours."

In one swift movement, Aegon sweeps you up into his strong arms, carrying you over to the bed. He tosses you down onto the mattress, crawling over you with a wicked grin. "Keep begging for my cock like the needy little slut you are," he commands, his fingers hooking into the delicate lace of your panties. With a sharp tug, he tears your panties off with a rough tug, the flimsy lace giving way easily to his strength.

He tosses the ruined garment aside, leaving you bare and exposed before him. His eyes drink in the sight of your glistening pussy, already dripping with arousal.

"Look at this pretty cunt, so wet and ready for my cock," Aegon growls, his fingers brushing teasingly along your slick folds. He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it throb under his touch. "You're fucking drenched, you filthy girl. Are you really this fucking needy?"

Aegon makes quick work of his belt and trousers, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. His thick, hard cock springs free, the swollen head already leaking with desire. He strokes himself a few times, smearing the bead of pre-cum down his impressive length.

Crawling back over you, Aegon settles between your spread thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance. He teases you with shallow thrusts, letting you feel how big and hard he is, how much he wants to split you open.

"Beg for it," Aegon demands, his voice a low, dominant rumble.

"Oh god, Aegon..." you moan, your head lolling back against the pillow as you feel his thick cockhead teasing your aching, soaked folds. "Please, I can't take it anymore! I've been dripping for you all night, from the moment we started dancing together at the club."

You lock your eyes with his, desperation and lust swirling in their depths. "I already wanted you to bend me over the bathroom counter and fuck me hard like a nasty slut," you confess shamelessly, your cheeks flushed with arousal and a hint of embarrassment at your brazen words. "I've been imagining how amazing your huge cock would feel splitting me open, filling and stretching me."

You spread your thighs even wider, putting yourself on a lewd display. "Please Aegon, I'm begging you," you whimper, your voice dripping with need. "Use me like the desperate, cock-hungry slut I am." Your voice grew louder and louder, already forgetting that just in the other room your sister and Aemond were probably sleeping.

Aemond's eye snaps open as your desperate pleas ring out, your voice echoing through the apartment. He can hear every word, from the lustful moans to the shameless begging for his cock. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he listens to you reduced to a wanton mess, so consumed by desire that you've forgotten all sense of volume control.

Beside him, your sister jolts up, blinking in confusion. She looks towards the door, her brows furrowing as she hears the obscene noises spilling from your room. "What the fuck?" she mutters.

Aemond grabs her wrist, stopping her. "Don't," he says shortly, his voice strained. He shakes his head when she opens her mouth to protest, silencing her with a sharp jerk of his chin towards the door. "Listen," he says quietly.

Together, they sit in tense silence, your sister's eyes widening as she realizes what she's hearing. Aegon is pounding into you hard enough to rock the bed against the wall, the headboard slamming rhythmically. His hips are smacking loudly against your ass, punctuating every powerful thrust. The room is filled with the vulgar sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your cries of ecstasy.

Aegon is wrecking your pussy, claiming it with ruthless strokes of his thick cock. He's thrusting into you so hard that the bed creaks and groans in protest. The sounds of your pleasure fill the apartment, leaving no question as to what'shappening in your bedroom. Aegon is so deep inside you, stretching you wide around his girth, just as you begged him to do.

Aemond sits rigidly on the bed, jaw clenched and hands fisted in the sheets as your shameless moans and the sounds of carnality fill the air. His heart pounds violently against his ribs, a wild mix of anger, disgust, and a sickening twist of arousal coursing through him. The lecherous symphony of your coupling assaults his ears, each lewd noise a dagger twisting in his gut. 

Aegon's hips piston relentlessly against yours, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed frame against the wall with a rhythmic thud. Slick, obscene squelches and the vulgar slap of flesh against flesh echo through the apartment, punctuated by your whorish cries for more, for harder, begging to be used like the desperate cock-hungry slut you apparently are. 

Your sister's face pales as the reality of the situation sinks in, her eyes wide with shock. She stares at Aemond as if waiting for an explanation. But Aemond remains still, his expression grim, unable to meet her horrified gaze. 

He's never felt such an overwhelming surge of rage, revulsion, and perverse, twisted jealousy. Hearing you degrade yourself for another man, screaming in ecstasy, begging to be used...it's unforgivable. It makes his blood boil and his cock throb in a way it shouldn't, given the circumstances.

Aegon is ruining you, claiming you, fucking you with a ruthless, punishing intensity. And from the sounds of it, you'reloving every second of it. 

Your sister finally finds her voice. "Oh wow... I didn't think my sister liked it this rough..."

Aegon snarls, his hips pounding into yours with brutal force as your begging drives him wild with lust. He hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he looms over you, his muscular frame caging you in. The new angle lets him plunge even deeper, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with every savage thrust.

Your slick walls clench and flutter around his pistoning cock, gripping him like a vice. The obscene squelch of your juices fills the room, mixing with the erotic slap of skin against skin and your wanton cries. Aegon's eyes are wild, blazing with possessive hunger as he ruthlessly claims your body, using you like the cock-starved slut you are.

"That's it, take my fucking cock," Aegon growls, one hand fisting in your hair as he pounds into you. "This is what you wanted. To be split open on another man's dick, used like a filthy little fuck toy?" 

He leans down and crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your screams of ecstasy. His tongue plunders your mouth, dominating you completely. All the while, he never slows the brutal pace of his thrusts, each one striking that perfect spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.

"Ohhhh f-fuuuuck, yesss!" You wailed, your voice cracking with raw pleasure as Aegon's massive cock pummeled your cervix with ruthless precision. Tears of pure ecstasy streamed down your cheeks, your hair splayed wildly across the pillow. "Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyou!" You chanted deliriously, too lost in sensation to form coherent words.

Your back arched sharply, pressing your tits against Aegon's chiselled chest as you clenched around him. "H-harder," you whimpered desperately, your eyes rolling back in your head as you surrendered completely to the brutal pleasure radiating from your core. "Please, I n-need...I need..." you trailed off, unable to even articulate what you craved, your mind shattered by the relentless, mind-numbing bliss of Aegon's animalistic rutting.

The obscene squelch of your dripping cunt taking his merciless pounding filled your ears, punctuated by the slam of flesh against flesh and your escalating wails of ecstasy.

"You want it harder?" Aegon taunts, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You want me to destroy this greedy cunt?" Without waiting for a response, he leans down as he looms over you with your legs still on his shoulders. The new angle lets him plunge even deeper, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with every savage thrust.

Your pussy is drenched, soaking his cock and dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so tightly," Aegon growls, his eyes wild with primal hunger as he stares down at your pleasure-drunk face. "Such a good little cock sleeve, taking me so well." He captures your mouth in a brutal kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as he continues to pound into you with ruthless intensity.

His hand moves from your hair to your throat, wrapping around it possessively as he squeezes slightly. He can feel your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his fingers, matching the erratic beat of his own heart. Aegon knows he's taking you to the brink of what you can handle, pushing you to the very edge of your limits.

Aegon snarls like a wild beast as he feels your pussy spasm and clench around him, gripping his cock. Your desperate, incoherent cries and the way you arch your back, presenting your perfect tits to him, only fuel his lust. He wants to ruin you, to fuck you so hard that you'll be ruined for any other man.

Aemond sits frozen as your screams of bliss and the lewd sounds of your coupling flood the apartment. It's like a punch to the gut, hearing the woman he actually wants debasing herself on another man's cock, begging to be used harder. The obscene noises fill him with sickening jealousy and a twisted, shameful arousal he can't deny.

Your sister stares at Aemond in shock, her mouth agape. "Is she...is she okay? That sounds rough..." She looks towards the door.

Aemond jolts as if electrified when he finally registers the name falling from your lips in ecstasy over and over again. His heart stops, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin as the horrible realization crashes over him like a bucket of icy water.

White-hot rage explodes through Aemond's veins, his vision flaring red at the edges. Aegon, his own brother, is violating his girlfriend's little sister in the most degrading way possible. Using her like a cheap fucktoy, pounding into her so hard that the whole apartment knows what a filthy slut she is for him.

Aegon.

Aegon is the one fucking you. Aegon is the one ruining you. Aegon is the one claiming your body in the most primal way imaginable.

Aegon's name falls from your lips like a prayer, a mantra repeated with every devastating thrust. "Aegon, Aegon, Aegon!" You scream, your back bowing off the bed as he fucks you into the mattress with ruthless intensity. The bed creaks and groans under the force of his lovemaking, the headboard slamming against the wall with every snap of his hips.

Your sister looks at Aemond with wide, horrified eyes. "That's...that's your brother, isn't it?" she asks breathlessly. "Your brother is - is he really fucking my sister like that?"

Aemond's jaw clenches, his hands fisting in the sheets as he nods numbly. His mind is reeling, a vicious storm of jealous rage and unwanted, twisted arousal swirling inside him. He can't believe it. He can't believe out of all the guys in the club you could've brought home, you're letting his older brother fuck you stupid.

Your fingers fly to your clit as Aegon squeezes your throat, making your world explode into a million pieces.

"Fuck! I fucking love your huge cock so much," you wail shamelessly, too lost in ecstasy to care how utterly slutty you sound. Tears stream down your flushed cheeks as you feel Aegon throbbing deep inside, splitting you open so perfectly. His smirk above you only pushes you closer to the edge.

"I-I can feel you, Aegon..." you sob, your pussy clenching and spasming uncontrollably around his pistoning length. "I can feel you in my fucking guts, holy shit!" Your eyes, hazy with lust, can barely focus on Aegon's handsome face as you cry from pleasure.

Aemond feels like he's been punched in the stomach, the air leaving his lungs in a brutal whoosh. Rage, jealousy, and a sick sense of lust churn violently inside him as he listens to you screaming his brother's name, begging for more as Aegon abuses your pussy.

His brother. His fucking brother Aegon is the one splitting you open, claiming your body with ruthless, animalistic fucking. The bed creaks and groans, the headboard slamming against the wall with every devastating thrust. Aegon must be pounding into you with enough force to leave bruises, fucking you like the desperate, cock-starved slut you've become.

The whole fucking apartment knows now what a whore you are for his brother. The way you're screaming, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh...you're not even trying to be quiet.

Not to mention the fucking tears. You're crying from pleasure, sobbing his brother's name like your life depends on it.

"You fucking love it, don't you?" Aegon snarls above you, his hand tightening around your throat. "Love the way my cock is splitting you open, reshaping this hungry cunt to fit me like a glove?" He leans down and captures your mouth in a brutal kiss

Aegon grins wickedly as he feels your pussy clamp down on his cock like a silken vice, gripping him rhythmically as you cum hard. "That's it, cum on this fucking cock," he snarls, his hips never slowing their brutal pace. "I want to feel this slutty little cunt milking me dry."

His intense gaze locks with yours, his eyes burning into your soul as your world shatters around you. You shake and convulse beneath him, a silent scream ripping from your raw throat as your climax crashes through you like a tidal wave of ecstasy. Tears stream freely down your cheeks.

Your wide, glazed eyes stare up at Aegon in helpless, mindless rapture, seeing nothing but him. You're utterly lost, drowning in the overwhelming pleasure that's consuming your every sense and thought. You can't speak, can't form a single coherent word or syllable as your trembling body surrenders completely to the exquisite agony of your release.

You can only feel - the scorching heat of Aegon's skin, the slick, obscene slide of his thick cock pounding into your fluttering, grasping pussy, the way your ass jiggles and bounces with every relentless thrust. Your breasts heave and strain beneath him, your nipples grazing his chest with each devastating surge of his hips.

Aegon doesn't let up, fucking you straight through your climax with ruthless intensity. He's merciless, pounding into your spasming cunt like a man possessed, forcing you to take every thick, throbbing inch of him. The sensation of his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass with each thrust only prolongs the mind-melting ecstasy.

You're just a vessel for his pleasure now, a set of holes for him to use and ruin as he sees fit. Your body is no longer your own as you writhe and thrash beneath him.

Aegon leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he growls filthy words. "Fuck, look at you. Coming apart so beautifully on my cock. You were made for this, made to be fucked stupid and used for my pleasure."

He pistons his hips at a brutal pace, the obscene slap of skin against skin echoing through the room. Aegon is fucking you right through your climax, not letting you come down from your high at all. Each thrust rocks the bed frame, the headboard slamming against the wall with enough force to leave a dent.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," Aegon snarls against your throat, his thrusts becoming erratic and uncontrolled. "I'm going to fucking fill this hungry little hole. You want that, don't you? Want me to pump you full?"

With a roar, Aegon buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock jerking and pulsing as he finds his release. He grinds his pelvis hard against yours, making sure you can feel every hot, thick spurt of his cum painting your insides.

Aemond lunges to his feet, a snarl ripping from his throat as he starts to storm towards the door. His girlfriend jumps up and grabs his arm, stopping him cold. She stares at him with wide, shocked eyes, her face pale and stricken.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demands, her voice shaking. "They're literally having sex in there! Does it really bother you that much, hearing them..." She trails off, biting her lip as another lewd shriek echoes from your room, followed by the crude slap of flesh against flesh and the rhythmic creaking of the bed.

Aemond's jaw clenches, his eyes flashing with a chaotic mix of rage and jealous lust. "Yeah, it does," he grits out, his voice low and dark. "You're my girlfriend, not her. I should be able to fuck you harder and make you scream louder, not listen to my brother ruin the little slut."

He shakes his head, his expression grim and unforgiving. "I can't stand the thought of Aegon touching her, tasting her..." He squeezes his eyes shut, the obscene sounds still filling his ears. 

Aemond's hands clench into fists at his sides, his whole body trembling with barely restrained fury and a sick, twisted arousal he can't comprehend. He's never felt so violently possessive before, so consumed by jealous rage.

His girlfriend looks at him with a mix of anger and betrayal in her eyes. "Well get over it, 'cause it's happening. Your brother is the one fucking her stupid, not you," she points out coldly. "Maybe if you treated me half as good as he's treating her..." she trails off bitterly.

"A-Aegon... I can feel you, oh god, I can feel you pumping me so full..." Your voice is breathy and weak, your body trembling as you feel Aegon's hot, thick seed flooding your insides. "Mmmnh... it's so much, I can feel it leaking out..." You bite your lower lip, a shaky moan escaping you as the rivulets of his cum start to seep out from where you're still intimately connected.

"Thank you... for ruining me..." You gaze up at him with hazy, adoring eyes, your hair splayed messily across the pillow, your cheeks flushed and dewy. "Mmm... I feel like I'm your personal cum dump now." You clench your walls around him and giggle, trying to milk out every last drop of his release.

"I love feeling your cum leaking out of my fucked hole... I'm so happy I let you use me like this." A soft, dazed smile plays on your lips as you savour the intimate feeling of your bodies remaining joined. "I've never felt so full."

Aegon's expression softens as he looks down at your dazed, blissed-out face. He brushes a few strands of hair from your forehead, tucking them gently behind your ear. "You did so well, taking my cock like that," he murmurs, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I've never felt anyone as tight as you before."

He leans down and presses a surprisingly tender kiss to your lips, his other hand sliding down to squeeze your ass possessively. "Look at you, covered in sweat and my cum," Aegon says with a smirk, trailing his fingers through the mess leaking from between your legs. "I've marked you as mine now."

Aegon carefully scoops you up into his strong arms, cradling you against his bare chest as he maneuvers you both to lay on your sides. He pulls the blanket up over your naked, trembling body, tucking you in like a precious treasure. "Get some rest," he orders softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "You earned it after that performance."

Aegon holds you close, letting you bask in the afterglow of your intense coupling. His heartbeat is slow and steady beneath your ear, a soothing rhythm that lulls you into a state of tranquillity.

Outside the bedroom, Aemond is still arguing with his girlfriend, his expression dark and stormy. He's pacing back and forth, his fists clenched at his sides as the sounds of you and Aegon's coupling still fill the air.

"Why can't you just let it go?!" his girlfriend argues, her voice rising. "Your brother is in there fucking my sister into a coma! Who cares?! She's an adult!"

Aemond whirls on her, his eyes flashing. "Of course I fucking care!" he snarls. "I'm just - I can't believe she'd let him do that to her. In your shared fucking apartment." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, his jaw clenching.

Aemond's girlfriend glares at him, her eyes flashing with anger and betrayal. "Oh, you mean like how you haven't fucked me into a coma in months?!" she snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've seen the way you look at her, Aemond. Like she's some prized piece of ass you wish was yours."

Aemond recoils as if slapped, his face paling. "That's not - I would never…" he starts to protest, but she cuts him off with a bitter laugh.

"Save it," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You think I haven't noticed? The way your eyes follow her every move, the little glances you sneak when you think I'm not looking." She steps closer to him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Face it, Aemond. You want to fuck your own girlfriend's little sister. You're just pissed it's Aegon doing it instead of you."

Aemond's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he glares down at her. "Watch your fucking mouth," he grits out, his voice low and dangerous. "That's not - I'm not - " He breaks off, gripping the back of his neck as he turns away from her.

His girlfriend laughs again, a harsh, grating sound. "You can't even deny it," she points out coldly. "You're jealous that Aegon is the one fucking her, not you. Well, get over it. She's not your property, Aemond. She can fuck whoever she wants."

With that, she turns on her heel and storms off towards the kitchen, leaving Aemond alone in the bedroom. He stands there for a long moment, his chest heaving with angry breaths as he tries to collect himself.

You peek up at Aegon through your lashes, a playful smirk tugging at your kiss-swollen lips as you hear the muffled shouts and a female voice rising in anger in the other room. You nestle closer to Aegon's warm, muscular body, relishing in the intimate feeling of your sweat-slicked skin still pressed together.

"Mmm, by the way, I think your brother's out there losing his mind," you murmur, tracing idle patterns on Aegon's chest with your fingertip. You giggle softly. "Poor thing seems pretty worked up about you defiling the 'precious little princess', hmm?" You tease, your voice breathy and low.

Aegon chuckles, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face as he hears the muffled shouts and angry voices coming from the other room. "Sounds like he's in quite a state," he remarks casually, seemingly unfazed by the drama unfolding outside the bedroom door.

He rolls onto his side, facing you with a smirk playing on his lips. "Poor, dear Aemond," Aegon mocks, his voice dripping with disdain. "Probably wishing it was his cock splitting you open instead of mine."

Aegon reaches out, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes burn into yours, intense and possessive. "Let him be jealous," he growls. "You're mine now, not his. I'll make sure of that."

With that declaration, Aegon crushes his lips against yours in a searing, dominating kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth with a fierce hunger. It's clear he has no intention of letting his brother have you, no matter how much Aemond might want it.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

I'm happy that you liked the "angsty love triangle" because let me tell you, it took years off my life 😂

Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol

Yes it is. And I hated myself for putting him through that, but it had to be done lol.

I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀

It really did. Man just wanted to be close to the reader, not hear her do the horizontal mambo with Ben next door 🤣

And the fanning gif is perfectly used. The Dean literally having a whole expirence thinking about laying on top of the reader 👀

Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭

I put him through so much in this part- oh goodness, he kinda deserved it, but it was struggle bus the whole way. He loves the reader so much, and wants to be with her, but we all know he's so bad at expressing his feelings 😭

God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲 But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!! The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭

EXACTLY! He hates this life for her, but it is her life. It's her choice to be a hunter and he has to accept that. Because on one hand I do see the side of him that wants to protect her, but he can't shut her up in a glass box. He has to let her live her life and be okay with it. And YES, he should not hide behind the "assholery" (lmao 🤣) instead he should be honest with her!

Oh yeah the "I'm not worthy" was really pulling overtime- It DOES make you want to beat some sense into him with an encyclopedia lol. But we both know how much he struggles with that and I had to include it in here 😭

I KNOW! It fits Dean though. I could see him having the same reaction to it as when Lisa and Ben got taken. Because he loves the reader and he thought that he 'lost' her. Dean would have been almost FERAL to get the reader back.

💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣

Dean is so petty you could call him Tom. 😆

TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol

LOL YES SLAP SOME SENSE INTO HIM!! USE THE BOOK! Continuing with the trope that Sam knows everything.

Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭

Told you... YEARS off my life lol

I also love the use of the office gif- and I really love the little bit that you highlighted about what it was like to kiss Dean vs. Ben. Because yes Dean can say that Ben "is him" but they really are two different men with different mannerisms. And I had this idea that Dean's kiss would be softer, but also more tentative whereas Ben has the confidence to take what he wants.

Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪

Literally all it took was a slap and the thought that he was going to actually lose the reader to put him over the edge. It was so satisfying to finally give him a vulnerable moment with the reader, especially after all the shouting between the two of them. But I think that he realized that the only thing he had to lose was the reader and she is everything to him 😭

Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏 (Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)

Thank you!! They needed a few moments of spice to make up 😉 especially after everything the two of them have been going through lol. And really after everything Dean had to listen to through the wall 😳

And I KNOW lol. The reader is really living the life we all want 🥴👀

Ben will take it... like Ben... and also a little bit like Dean- pushing it all down 😒

Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄

Mhmm. It is unfortunately on brand for him and he will not be the one to admit that he has feelings for someone else. Especially not after everything that happened with Countess. And I also think that Ben understands that this reader, isn't really "his."

That was the biggest decider in this fic when I was trying to figure out if the reader should end up with Ben or with Dean. And it really came down to that she's not from Ben's universe. She's a hunter and there are parts of her life that Ben won't be able to understand that Dean can. She might be able to understand Ben, but she needs Dean and Dean needs her.

LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣 And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭

It is the first fight that Ben has ever lost 🤣 And I literally was like, yes Ben would hate being forced to go to therapy, but he would love to sit there and just rant with someone who has to listen to him. Unfortunately, I think that Ben would also be the person who has an affair with their therapist LOL

OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉

He's already smitten! 😍 And I had to give him a happy ending too! I don't think I would have been able to live with myself if Ben got sent off without someone to love him 😭 I also know that we've talked in the past about Ben needing someone in his life that gives it right back to him and doesn't put up with any of his antics, but I am so intrigued by the thought of what kind of person Ben would be with a shy/anxious significant other. I love that idea and I'm literally adding it to my WIPs lol 💗

ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕

He's got a line for everything *sigh* and he knows just what to say. I hate to say that this would have worked on me 😅 She has NO idea, but I like to think that the two of them are very happy right now. Also kinda know because I am slowly plotting out ideas for follow ups with the IT Reader and Ben lol. But I'm so happy you loved it friend!! Thank you so much for all your kind comments!!!💞

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

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[tovibeornottovibe]

Club Rats

Azriel x Fem!OC

Azriel and Merrin have been meeting in clubs for months now. Sometimes, they ditch Rita's for dinner, and most of the time, they end up sleeping together. It's better than relying on the skills of strangers, and they like each other, probably more than either of them would admit. This time, they drink far, far too much, make some regrettable decisions that get them thrown out, and share a moment more intimate than they ever have before. [2.7k words]

warnings: excessive drinking, mentions of spiking and Azriel not taking that as seriously as you should!, self-destructive behaviour, mentions of sex (no smut tho), Azriel being the rude, snarky, imperfect male that he is (not towards the OC, to everyone else)

Prefer to read on Ao3? [this is a series there! let me know if you want me to post those fics on here too (:]

“Azriel.”

He looks up. The sound of the sea washes over him as he sits there, legs hanging off the edge of the dock, with his thigh brushing hers. His wings feel like deadweight, like his muscles aren’t even connected to his body. She’s settled in the crook of the right one, and every time she breathes, her shoulder nudges him where he wants her to put her tongue.

It’s maybe four-in-the-morning. He doesn’t know. They got kicked out of Rita’s not more than an hour ago. Merrin bashed in some male’s teeth. Azriel bashed in his jaw. His shadows won’t tell him why she did it, and he doesn’t know why he helped. 

For the briefest moment, he remembers that they might have banned them for it. He huffs out a laugh.

Both he and Merrin are very, very drunk. He’s not entirely convinced they didn’t get spiked. It should concern him, but they’re both suffering, and that’s a comfort. 

They’ve been trying  to convince each other that they were just in this for the sex for the past few minutes. They like each other, but it’s just release, you know?

Head heavy from the alcohol, he cranes his neck forward to look at her face. He distinctly thinks she is the most beautiful female he’s ever seen, and guiltily goes through why she’s prettier than Elain. It’s totally unfair and he knows thinking about it makes him an asshole. Merrin’s hair is a nicer colour and she lacks the etherealness of High Fae that unsettles him. She fits better in his arms; she’s tall enough that he can rest his chin on her head without bending down when they embrace, and when they’re in bed, he can tangle their legs together and she can settle into the curve of his body without issue. Of course, these things were fantasy with Elain.

He swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

She hesitates and something in his gut twists, like he can tell she’s about to say something serious. 

“Are we—are you happy?”

For some reason, that makes him laugh. It’s a horrible, bitter, broken kind of laughter. It’s utterly without warmth. He hates it, actually.

“No,” he says, and it’s true. “Are you?”

She offers him a smile. “Not at all,” she says. “What a fucking pair we make, eh?” Something inside him recoils at the thought of her putting herself at his level. Giggling, she presses her forehead into his shoulder and clutches his forearm where the scars on his skin meet the unmarred flesh. Then she sighs. “Gods,” she says like she’s just discovered the secret to life, “you’re actually an important person, and you’re miserable.”

“It’s not all cocktail parties and fountains of champagne,” he says.

“No,” she laughs. “You torture people for a living.”

Though he stiffens, not even that can knock him out of whatever it was they drank. Feeling him tense, she shifts so her chin is resting on his shoulder, and she laughs again when she sees the look on his face.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she says. “That’s kinda fucked, right?”

It’s stupid that it makes him feel good. It’s stupid that he likes hearing that. Some days, he doesn’t think it bothers him either. And yeah, that is kinda fucked. He kills people for his brother. A lot of the time, they probably don’t even deserve it. Yet, here he is, with the most gorgeous female in the world, drunk off his ass with her, and she doesn’t care that he tortures people for a living.

“It is,” he says. “Really fucked.”

Merrin grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, and he lets her because he wants her to touch him. All of the time. He thinks about her so often that one day it’ll probably get him killed, but if he goes out with her on his mind, he’ll consider it a pretty decent way to die. Cassian would throttle him for saying that. Rhys and Feyre too. Mor would look at him like he’d lost his mind and call him an idiot.

Merrin would make a joke and smile at him.

“I don’t think we’re fucking tonight, Azriel.”

He hums in agreement. “We’re not in a state to do that anyway,” he says, “but I would if we were.”

“I would too.” She goes back to resting her cheek against his shoulder and he can smell the shampoo she uses. Gently, she rubs circles with her thumb on the back of his palm. It’s probably more intimate than they have ever been in bed and the feeling runs up his arm and into his brain. He traces her reddened, bloodied knuckles. “Wanna just sleep?”

He raises a brow at her. “Together?”

“Literally. In the same bed. Just sleep.”

“...Okay.”

“Come on then,” she says softly, pulling herself up more gracefully than the amount of drink in her system should allow for, then she’s tugging him up too, despite the fact that he’s heavier. With the amount of force it takes, she almost loses her balance and tips backwards, but he catches her at the waist. “Back to mine?”

In response, his shadows languidly start to swirl at his shoulders. They’re objecting to the presence of her cat, but the chances are that it’ll be asleep, or otherwise outside, since it likes exploring the city in the early hours of the morning. 

Raskal meows at the bedroom door at inconvenient times: sometimes when they’re asleep; sometimes when they’re in the middle of something else. It’s so achingly domestic that Azriel can’t even be annoyed. Merrin always comes back after letting Raskal out and buries her face into the crook of his neck, clings to his torso like he might disappear if she didn’t. She blames it on the cold, but she’s from the Winter Court and never gets chilly. If he’s awake enough, he pulls her on top of him and cards his hands through her hair, usually in an attempt to lull her back to sleep.

Hand-in-hand, they stumble back through the city to her apartment. Merrin makes him crouch down so she can pet a stray cat for what seems like half an hour, but it’s really only for a few minutes. Passersby stare at them and look away when he glares. No one will mention what they see, not to the rest of the Inner Circle; that’s asking for trouble, and the city has had enough. 

He has no idea why he’s letting her do this with him. They aren’t together. They’re club rats who keep finding themselves in each other’s company and more often than not, they end up sleeping together because they trust each other and it’s easier than gaining the attention of a stranger. 

Though, recently, they’ve been ditching Rita’s for dinner, and he’s glad because these days he’s eating less and less when he’s in the House of Wind. Merrin takes him to little bistros he knows only by name. He brings her to fancy restaurants and she always laughs because they look so out-of-place with her in slinky, little dresses and with his lipstick-stained cheeks that the High Fae actually turn up their noses. She once ate a whole meal with her fingers to really push it, and they couldn’t kick them out because he’s a member of the Inner Circle. Things like that are why he likes her company. She’s so unconcerned about what other people think of her in the way that the rest of his family pretend they are. 

She’s a smart person. She understands that people assume things about the nature of their relationship, about her, and about him, even though they know nothing. More than once, she’s been called a whore, and, more than once, he’s scared someone shitless for it. And she doesn’t care. Not that she should be ashamed, but Azriel isn’t certain that Merrin ever feels shame for anything she does. Regret, maybe, but not humiliation. 

People, the ones whose opinions are worth listening to, like Merrin. She’s compassionate and generous and she can make even him roar with laughter. She isn’t those things because she wants approval for them, she just is. It’s so rare that he meets someone who has no ulterior motive, who speaks their mind and says what they want with no caveats.

Azriel can’t tell if he’s in love with her or if they’re just friends who fuck sometimes. If they’re really friends at all. He doesn’t know which of those things he even wants. He knows that he likes holding her hand. Likes the sound of her voice and that his heart stutters sometimes when she laughs. He could sit and listen to her go on tangents about anything and everything for hours on end. 

Her choice of dress tonight is driving him insane: the black velvet hugs her curves and it barely reaches her mid-thigh. Open at the back, the expanse of her smooth skin that he has dragged his hands down countless times teases him. He wants to pull at the curls in her hair.

When they’re in bed, he’s almost insatiable. He’ll stay between her thighs and do pretty much anything she asks of him. Seeing her flawless form when she punched that male earlier sent twitching heat racketing through him. But so does waking up to her making tea, wearing his shirt, humming to herself. 

It’s a lie that he isn’t happy. Here, on this random street in Velaris, with his head pounding and his legs not quite working as they should, in Merrin’s blissful presence, he’s happier than ever.

Maybe he does love her.

Would she have invited him back to her apartment just to sleep if all she wanted from him was sex?

Would it feel so normal to be with her, to recognise the scent of her even in a crowd of writhing bodies in a club, if he didn’t feel something for her? 

Is it strange that he sleeps better in bed with her curled into his side than he ever has in the townhouse? That she can chase away his bad dreams just by tightening her grip on his waist? That he hasn’t had anyone else because the thought of sleeping with another makes him feel ill?

He can’t figure it out and maybe doesn’t want to right now.

He squeezes her hand and drags her away from the stray, leading her down alleyways so they can get to the townhouse where she owns the top-floor apartment. The stairwell is in no way designed for Illyrians, so his wings scrape against the walls. She's pushing him up in front of her so he goes quicker and doesn’t have to endure the discomfort for so long. They’re definitely stamping about and waking her neighbours.

But they’ve undoubtedly done that before. He’s reminded of the time he carried her upstairs and didn’t wait until they were at her door before he pulled her underwear down. Merrin shamelessly moaned his name particularly loudly halfway up and complained in the morning that the female who lives below her might not cat-sit for her on account of disturbed sleep. He’d snickered. She smacked him in the arm.

Not tonight, he reminds himself. Tonight, they’re sleeping off whatever was in their drinks.

When her front door clicks shut behind them, he almost pins her against it and kisses her. It’s only her ducking under his arm and taking him to her bedroom by grabbing his shirt which stops him. He can kiss her in bed, he thinks. Not with any expectations. He just wants to.

“I think I lied earlier,” she says, pulling at the ties of her dress before he takes over for her wordlessly, letting her continue. “I am happy sometimes. I just don’t think I’m content. They’re different, right?” She peers over her shoulder at him when his fingers still at the small of her back, the dress starting to slip off her as he nears the final tie. 

“They are,” he replies. “I don’t think I’m content either.” Then he undoes the final tie and the dress falls to the floor in a heap of black velvet. She steps out of her stupidly high heels and kicks them towards the door. 

He’s absolutely not focusing on the fact that she’s left wearing nothing but lacy, black panties. He’s not thinking about the fact she’s topless as she disappears into the bathroom to clean off her makeup. He does not care that when she comes back and he’s lying on her bed in his underwear that she picks up his shirt and drapes it around herself to sleep in.

Instead of going to her side, Merrin climbs on top of him, her knees in the space between his hips and his wings, and he instinctively curls his arm around her to pull her down to him. She’s practically pinning him down with her arms braced against the pillow below his head. Despite the Autumn chill, she’s warm.

He gets his kiss. It’s tender, slow, and without heat. Her lips are soft and he lets her push her tongue in his mouth lazily. They’re uncoordinated and a little messy, but it’s fine, he doesn’t care because it’s her. It feels like they’re the only two people in the world, like all things have led to right here, right now, and he thinks that everything that’s happened to him has been worth it. When they separate, she presses chaste, wet kisses on his cheeks and along his jaw and makes him smile. 

“What would make you content, Az?” she asks quietly.

He could say lots of things, most of them he shouldn’t admit to because they’re both still drunk and it’s a bad idea to make serious decisions when your head feels like lead. 

But…

“Just—stay there,” he says, shaking the vulnerability from his tone, sliding his hands under the shirt and settling them at her hips. He refrains from toying with the waistband of her underwear.

Merrin kisses the crest of his brow and his cheekbones. “What?” she asks, smiling when he starts to blush. “For the whole night?” He hums confirmation. She whispers against his lips, “That would make you content?”

“If I wake up with you on top of me too.” The distance between them is closed. He runs his fingers along the back of her thigh while his other hand creeps up the dip of her spine, pulling her impossibly closer until they’re chest-to-chest and he can feel how her nipples have pebbled through her—his—shirt. Of her own accord, she shifts her hips a little lower until she’s sitting on his pelvis, giving him just a hint of friction. He tuts and pulls away. “What happened to just sleeping, Merrin?”

They need to rest. At the same time, he also needs to know how wet she’ll be if he sinks a finger into her tight heat. She’s always so… reactive. Learning all her sensitive spots has been a lesson he never wants to finish. She isn’t shy about showing him. 

She catches his hand before he can satisfy his curiosity.

“Just reminding you of what we would be doing if we hadn’t drunk that last bottle of liqueur,” she says, shimmying even lower so she can rest her head on his chest, slotting her legs between his thighs. 

He sighs a laugh, his eyelids suddenly heavy. “Like I needed reminding.” When he rests his free hand on the back of her head, dipping his fingers into the fine hair at the top of her neck, he feels her melt against him and fully relax. He tugs the covers and pulls them over the both of them. “What would make you content?” he asks softly, letting himself sync his breathing with the rise and fall of her shoulders, with the soft puffs of air he can feel on his pectoral where his tattoos mingle with her flaring curls. Somehow, the sight of them doesn’t make him wince as often as it used to, but he sees them more these days. Merrin likes to trace the lines of ink in the mornings.

“I don’t know,” she says, “‘suppose we’ll find out if I feel the same as you when we wake up.”

He blames the drinking, but he hopes that she does.

[oros-ash3s]

a ramble about the most doomed brothers ever ೃ༄*ੈ✩

“We grew up so very close / a parasite needs a host”

— Evelyn Evelyn

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Kageko and Ryuji Fukenaga can barely be considered brothers anymore.

They are the farthest thing from family, a pure hatred and resentment towards each other like no other; and yet still their relationship is described as purely family, their familial bonds being the only thing keeping the two together. They are twin brothers, tethered by the same fragmented soul, opposites at birth, yet the same person, co-existing inside a singular body.

Kageko and Ryuji's entire existence is ironic. Kage, the one who died, the one who gave up his life for Ryuji, is the one with a true ambition. He has an ever-consuming desire to be something more than he is, to escape from Ryuji's shadow — quite literally. He's obsessed with becoming a Noroi hunter, of working in the Division. He believes that somehow this will cure him, the ache inside of him, the longing for humanity, having his being stripped along with his autonomy.

Ryuji, the brother who lived, has no such desire. Ryuji is tormented by the voices of the ghosts of his past, haunted by the flickers of shadows throughout the day and night. He struggles to sleep, to make friends, to live. He is alive, breathing, healthy, yet it still does not matter. He's a husk, when considering what's important. He has no drive, no strong opinions and no will to live. He is driven around by Kage, who he doesn't have the strength to continue to ignore.

Kage is determined to live through his brother. If he had his entire life stolen from him protecting Ryuji, then Ryuji owes it to him to do this. Kageko deserves to be able to make all the big decisions for Ryuji. He is the older one, the one who actually has an impulse to be something other than what he already is. He, out of anyone, deserves to have an adventurous life, deserves to make it out of the constraints of his little brother's bedroom walls. It does not matter to him if he is pushing Ryuji into a position he does not want, does not matter if Ryuji is actively suffering due to his torment.

Ryuji was the one fated to die, so now he has to forever make it up to Kageko. It's the least he can do, after all the pain he has caused.

Ryuji would do anything to be in Kage's shoes. He wishes so badly to have been the one that died, the one that was saved. Death is a mercy, when compared to the hell he has to live in every day. Kage tells him that he made it out painlessly, that he didn't suffer half as much. But that's not true. Ryuji lives with the pain of what happened, of what he let happen, every single day. The scar on his face is a permanent reminder of it, not counting the voices of the damned that he has been cursed to always have pounding in his head.

In the end, they are two boys, stuck together by the ties of fate themselves, who'd do anything to be in the others position. If only they knew that the life they wish so badly for is not all what it's made up to be.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

taglist \\ @ohagi505 @seastarblue @vesanal @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @bioniclechronicles @lancedoncrimsonwings @blackboxwarrior-mkultra @whump-till-ya-jump @sharkblizzardblogs @sugaredparchment @corinneglass @cacophonyofwords

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Sometimes you read a fanfic and you're like oh, this was written by someone who has no experience with suicide but is giving it a damn good try and you just stare at the words, mouth fully agape.

[vettelcore]

me when the red flags warned me exactly about what was gonna happen and i still ignored them

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

You always try so hard to hide when something's bothering you. You're so careful not to let your phone unlocked and out in the open, you try not to let your eyes unfocus as you think about whatever's bothering you; you work so hard to keep being productive despite your sorrows.

But they know you better than yourself, doll.

They see how your shoulders tense up whenever you leave Price's office and how you're always so wary of your surroundings, looking this and that way, waiting behind walls to avoid certain people. You can't hide your fears from them. Not from them. Not from the ones who were placed in this godforsaken world to protect you no matter what.

Figuring things out is easy. There's a reason they're a special task force. Swooping your phone from you is as easy as stealing candy from a little kid, and so is unlocking your phone (you need to be more careful about your passwords, love. Really? Your childhood's dog birthday? That's like basic information for them).

And when you come back to the room, flustered, fretting over your phone, it's there: on Price's desk, as if it was untouched. They hide the anger caused by their discoveries behind clenched jaws and hardened eyes and wait until you leave to begin discussing their plan of action (it's cute how you still look at each one of them to make sure they didn't see a thing).

Love, why didn't you tell them? Why did they have to search through your messages to find the reason behind your sadness? Don't you trust them? They're your guard dogs, doll, why don't you just order them to maul and gnaw and rip to shreds whenever you need?

It took them breaking into your phone to find out about the Sergeant who's been messaging you. They could read the suspicion behind your words as you accused him of pranking you after he asked you out.

Pranking you? Pranking?

They read the following messages, where he admitted to his lies – it was a bet, he said. Some friends had bet a good amount of money that he wouldn't be courageous enough to ask you out and then stand you up. He then had the gall to thank you for believing his words and going to the date. For dressing up "weirdly" and being delusional enough to think someone like him would be interested in you.

"just an advice: putting lipstick on a pig doesn't work lmao thanks for guaranteeing me the money tho" he had said.

Seeing red wasn't enough to describe how they felt.

Soap could barely stay still. He leaned his weight on one foot and then the other, itching to run as fast as he could until he found the bastards that dared to insult his bonnie. He needed to feel their bones giving out as he punched them into a bloody pulp. He needed to scream, to let you know that you were too good for all of those scumbags, that he and his mates were the only ones who could appreciate you, touch you with the reverence and devotion that you deserved.

Gaz felt like he failed you. The sourness of his anger mingled with the bitterness of his sorrow. He swore he could taste his emotions on his tongue. He always makes sure to tell how beautiful he thinks you are, how lovely your uniqueness is to him – his little porcelain doll he wished he could place on a shelf. To think some random man managed to hurt you and disrespect you under his watch... it was unbelievable. He would spend a lifetime spoiling you until you forgot about it. After he sunk his teeth into those men throats and ripped them apart, of course.

Ghost was the other side of Soap's coin. But while the Scotsman wanted to seek and destroy as quickly as they do in action, Ghost wanted cruelty. He wanted to take it slow, deliberate. One fingernail for every tear they made you shed. One bone snapped in half for every second you suffered due to their disrespect. If it depended on him, they would only live up until the clouds that covered your sun cleared up. There would be no surrendering, no mercy. You deserve thorough revenge, lovie. And only the muzzle that Price puts on his rabid snout can hold Ghost back.

Price wondered why you didn't tell them about this... incident. Why? Are you trying to defend those poor excuses for men despite how terribly they disrespected you? No, that can't be it. You're their angel, but he knows you aren't some punching bag. Are you afraid they'd agree with those bastards? At that, Price has to laugh. You're so smart, love, but so so blind. You still can't see how they could sell their soul to you, if you became a devil. You still can't see how they'd kneel down on nails and pray to you if you became a saint. After Price pulls a few strings and manages to get that scum dishonorably discharged, he and his muppets would have to work really hard on making sure you know you're the only thing that matters.

[misswynters]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞

featuring. Ekko x fem!reader

wc. 15.5k

synopsis. Born from house Arvino, one of the richest and influential families of piltover. You had it all from luxurious gifts, fancy meals, a magnificent bedroom and much more. You’re parents gave you everything you asked for. However still never satisfied you. You’re mind always looked at the injustice and suffering zaun was going through. That’s when you first met ekko, the firelights’ leader. Not very happy to have a pilty messing stuff up.

trope. “enemies to lovers”

warnings. slow burn, cursing, blood, kissing 0-0, suggestive

requested. by anon

a/n. slight spoilers for arcane s2, it’s more like enemies to friends to lovers (sorry) if there’s mistakes you don’t see it! aka not proofread (read it thrice) also there’s no war in this :)

Above, the shimmering towers stood tall, their wealth and power casting long shadows. Below, Zaun suffocated in its neon haze, its people forgotten in the depths of the city’s ambition. Whereas the glow of Piltover’s lights filled the skyline. From the balcony of your family estate, the stark contrast between Piltover and Zaun was undeniable.

“You think your actions are noble, but you’re a fool,” your father’s voice thundered from the dining room. His words, sharp and unyielding, echoed through the halls as you stood silently by the doorway. “Consorting with the undercity rabble is not only dangerous, it’s treacherous.”

“They’re not rabble. They’re people,” you countered, stepping forward with clenched fists. “You act like Zaun doesn’t exist, but they’re suffering because of Piltover’s greed.”

“You don’t understand the world you live in,” your mother added, her tone softer but no less cutting. “House Arvino holds power because we uphold order. Piltover thrives because of people like us. You risk everything with your reckless defiance.”

Frustration boiled within you. “Piltover thrives at the expense of Zaun. Those people deserve better.”

Your father slammed his fist onto the table. “Enough! You are an Arvino, and you will act like one. This rebellion of yours ends now.”

His command hung in the air, suffocating and absolute. You didn’t argue further. Instead, you turned on your heel and left, the weight of their disapproval bearing down on you. You wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Zaun had become a second home to you, even if it was a dangerous one. It was there, in the grimy depths of the undercity, that you had met Ekko. The boy with paint-streaked cheeks and a fire in his eyes had been as wary of you as you had been of him. Unfortunately, you had been too blinded by your own self-righteousness to notice the fire in his eyes. You thought your mission was noble, an act of goodwill to deliver medical supplies to Zaun’s struggling districts. Your family, House Arvino, had always prided itself on maintaining a veneer of philanthropy, even when their true motivations were rooted in politics. You had accompanied a group of Piltover enforcers on the trip, believing your presence would emphasize the importance of the task. You were wrong.

The moment you stepped into the heart of Zaun, the air itself seemed hostile. The tension was palpable, the sharp smell of chemical fumes mixing with the weight of countless wary stares from Zaunites who lined the streets. Your voice was soft and unsure as you addressed the gathered crowd, holding out your hands to show the crates of supplies. You thought you were doing something good, offering some small relief to people who had been forgotten.

But the enforcers who were armed and stoic, turned the scene into something far more sinister. They barked orders at the crowd, waving their weapons to ensure no one got too close. You had tried to intervene, to tell them this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but your voice was drowned out by the chaos they had already sown.

That was when the boy appeared, the one you heard slight rumors about. At first, you didn’t know exactly who he was, only that he seemed fearless as he stepped forward. Placing himself between the crowd and the enforcers. His voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a blade.

“Another topsider playing savior,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “You think you can fix Zaun with scraps from your table?”

You had never been spoken to like that before. His words, sharp and accusatory, made your cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment. You turned to him, trying to keep your composure despite the growing crowd that was watching the confrontation unfold.

“I’m not here to play savior,” you shot back, your voice steady even though your heart was racing. “I’m here to help.”

“Help?” He laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and mocking. “Your kind doesn’t help. You just come down here to feel good about yourselves, then leave us to clean up your mess.”

“I’m trying to make a difference!” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his posture radiating defiance. “If you really wanted to make a difference, you wouldn’t bring enforcers with you like we’re criminals. You’d be standing with us, not above us.”

The words hit harder than you expected. Somewhere deep down, you knew he was right. The enforcers’ presence had turned an act of charity into a display of control, a reminder of Piltover’s dominance over Zaun. But admitting that felt like defeat, and you weren’t ready to back down.

“This isn’t about standing above anyone,” you argued. “I came here because I care. That’s more than most people from Piltover would do.”

“And that’s supposed to make you special?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Newsflash, princess, Zaun doesn’t need your pity. We need change.”

The enforcers stepped in before the argument could escalate further, pushing the crowd back and ordering you to return to the transport. You left with the weight of his words pressing heavily on your chest, his voice echoing in your mind long after you were gone.

Over the weeks that followed, you found yourself returning to Zaun despite the tension and despite him. Every time you came, he was there, watching you with that same guarded expression. It seemed like he could sense your discomfort, the guilt you carried for what Piltover had done to his home.

“Back again?” he would say, leaning casually against a wall with a smirk that made your blood boil. “Guess you didn’t get the message last time.”

“I’m not here for your approval,” you’d hiss back, your tone dry. “I’m here for the people who actually need help.”

“You think you’re helping?” he’d shoot back, his voice low and laced with frustration. “All you’re doing is putting a bandage on a bullet wound.”

His words stung, not because they were cruel, but because they forced you to confront truths you didn’t want to face. He wasn’t wrong. Everything you did felt small, insignificant compared to the scale of Zaun’s struggles. And yet, you couldn’t stop coming back.

Ekko was unlike anyone you had ever known. He was quick-witted and determined, a rebel who refused to back down in the face of injustice. But he didn’t trust you, not completely. “You’re just another Pilty trying to fix a world you don’t understand,” he had told you once, his voice filled with disdain.

“And you’re just another rebel too angry to see the bigger picture,” you had shot back. Yet despite the constant sparring, you found yourself drawn to him, to the hope buried beneath his frustration.

That hope turned to chaos one night when enforcers raided the Firelights’ hideout. It happened so fast. One moment, you were in the Firelights’ hideout, quietly listening as Ekko outlined plans for their next move against Piltover’s oppression. The next, chaos erupted.

The sound of boots echoed sharply against the metal grates of Zaun’s narrow passages. The enforcers had found the hideout. Your breath caught as the unmistakable clatter of their weapons reverberated through the space. You stood frozen, staring at Ekko as he barked orders to the Firelights around him, his voice sharp and commanding.

“You brought them here, didn’t you?” His words were like a blade, cutting through the noise. His piercing gaze locked onto you, and your stomach churned with guilt.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, but your voice was drowned out by the growing commotion. The enforcers didn’t give anyone time to explain. They swarmed in, their heavy armor gleaming under the dim light, weapons raised. You reached for the nearest object which was a dainty metal rod. And tried stand your ground. You weren’t going to let them harm anyone, not here.

Ekko was already moving, his quick reflexes guiding him as he darted through the chaos. The Firelights fought back, using their intimate knowledge of Zaun’s layout to their advantage. Smoke bombs went off, shrouding the room in thick, stinging fog. He towards you with a slight disgusted look and yelled, “You have to leave, Now!”

“I’m not leaving,” you said, your voice defiant.

“You’ll just slow us down,” he snapped, the frustration in his tone cutting deeper than he intended. “They need me. And you need to go back to your perfect little life, staying safe.”

His words stung, but before you could argue, he vanished into the fray, leaving you behind. You tried to follow, weaving through the chaos, but you weren’t quick enough. An enforcer caught you in the shadows, his grip like iron as he slammed you against the wall. “Here you are.”

However the enforcers were relentless. One of them caught sight of you, his eyes narrowing as he grinned. You swung the rod with the little strength you had left, but it was no match for their training. Pain exploded across your abdomen as he shot you. It nearly missed your stomach, however you crumpled to the ground. Gasping for the little air you could muster.

Through the haze of smoke and pain, Ekko pull something from his belt. A device crackling with vibrant green energy. “Firelights, cover your eyes!” he shouted. The device emitted a blinding flash, followed by a wave of sound that sent the enforcers reeling. Their yells of confusion filled the air as they stumbled back, disoriented and clutching their helmets.

The Firelights seized the opportunity, retreating deeper into the hideout and disappearing into secret tunnels. Ekko crouched beside you, his hands shaking as he lifted your chin. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.

Without replied to his question, you stumbled out of his grasp. Going into the streets of Zaun, clutching your side as every step sent searing pain through your body. The world around you blurred, a mix of dim lights and the shadows of the towering structures above.

He was shocked to say the least. ‘Why did you leave so abruptly?’ he questioned himself. Ekko didn’t waste a second, he truly did try to hide it. But as soon as the enforcers were gone and the Firelights were safe, he was out the door. Searching for you and he didn’t want to admit it. He knew didn’t know you as much, but he knew you were stubborn. Matter fact for the short period of time he was with you, he knew you were too stubborn to admit how badly you were hurt.

“Where the hell did you go?” he muttered under his breath, scanning the narrow alleys and dimly lit corners of Zaun. His mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. You were nowhere to be found.

The beating left you crumpled on the ground, your vision blurred and your body trembling with pain. Somehow you managed to drag yourself back to Piltover, every step a battle against the agony that wrecked your body. By the time you stumbled into your family’s estate, the grand halls felt like a mockery of your suffering. Your parents returned hours later to find you collapsed in the foyer, your bruises stark against your weak skin. Their shock quickly turned to anger, though it was born of fear.

“This is what happens when you defy us,” your father said, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you see now? You can’t change the world. You can only get yourself killed.”

“I trying to help,” you murmured, your voice weak but resolute.

“They are not your people,” your mother said, her tone filled with a mix of pity and frustration. “You are our only child. We can’t lose you to some pointless crusade.” Their words lingered, but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t. The divide between Piltover and Zaun wasn’t just physical, it was ideological. You were caught between two worlds, neither one willing to accept you fully. The summons to the Council came the next morning. As you stood in the grand chamber, the weight of their judgment bore down on you. Ambessa Medarda, seated at the center, regarded you with cold disdain.

“You stand accused of undermining Piltover’s authority by associating with the undercity,” she said, her voice sharp and unyielding. “Do you deny these charges?”

“I was just trying to helping people,” you replied exhaustively, your voice steady despite the pain in your ribs.

Ambessa’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Helping? Piltover thrives because of order. And you, as an Arvino, have brought chaos to our city.”The council murmured their agreement, their disapproval a suffocating presence in the room.

“Your actions were reckless,” Ambessa continued. “And your injuries are your own doing. You clutched the knife and cut yourself on its blade, all in the name of some misguided sympathy for the undercity." Her words felt like another blow, each one landing with precision and force.

You straightened your back, though the pain flared at the effort. "I acted because the people of Zaun are ignored and oppressed. Piltover turns a blind eye while it prospers off their suffering. That's not order, it’s exploitation." The murmurs grew louder, some council members shifting uncomfortably in their seats. But Ambessa didn't waver. Her gaze bore into you, her lips curling with faint amusement.

"Such passion," she mused. "But passion without purpose is just noise. You may think yourself a savior, but all you've done is tarnish your family's name and threaten the stability of our city."

Before you could respond, the chamber doors swung open with a heavy groan, and your parents entered. Dressed in their finest, House Arvino's patriarch and matriarch carried themselves with the grace and dignity that Piltover revered. Yet the tension in their features betrayed their unease.

"Ambessa," your father began, his tone measured but firm. "My child's actions, while impulsive, stem from a place of compassion. Surely the Council can recognize that their intentions were not malicious."

"Compassion?" Ambessa's tone was mocking. "Compassion does not excuse rebellion. House Arvino has always stood for loyalty to Piltover's ideals. Is that no longer the case?"

Your mother stepped forward, her voice calm but resolute. "Our loyalty has never wavered. But to degrade my child in front of this council as if they are a common criminal is unacceptable." Ambessa's expression darkened.

"Unacceptable is your heir jeopardizing the balance we've worked so hard to maintain. Zaun is a powder keg, and actions like theirs threaten to ignite it." You bit your lip to keep from speaking. The words you wanted to hurl at her-at all of them-burned on your tongue, but your mother's warning glance silenced you.

"House Arvino will address this matter internally," your father said, his voice brooking no argument. "We will ensure that such actions are not repeated."

Ambessa leaned back in her chair, studying your parents with a calculating gaze. "See that you do. Piltover cannot afford dissent from within its own ranks." The council murmured their agreement, and the session was adjourned. As you were escorted from the chamber, the weight of the council's disdain hung heavy over you.

Back in the confines of your family's estate, the anger you had suppressed boiled over. You slammed your hands against the polished surface of your desk, the pain in your ribs flaring with the movement. "They're cowards," you spat, your voice trembling with fury. "All of them. Sitting in their gilded towers while Zaun suffers."

"Alright thats enough," your father said sharply, entering the room with your mother close behind. "You don't understand the position you've put us in. House Arvino cannot afford to be seen as weak or disloyal."

"I don't care about any of that!" you shouted, turning to face them. "Zaun doesn't have the luxury of appearances. They're dying while we live in luxury!"

Your mother's expression softened, but her voice was firm. "We understand your frustration. But your actions cannot continue. They will destroy you, and us." Their words echoed Ekko's from the night before, and the parallel struck a chord. You sank into a chair, the fight leaving you as exhaustion took its place. "I can't just stop. Not when I know what's happening down there."

Your father sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Then you must find another way. A way that doesn't make enemies of those who hold power." The conversation ended there, but the fire within you didn't dim. If anything, it burned brighter. You couldn't stop. Not now.

Months have passed since your bruises had faded were a careful balancing act, though you still visited Zaun, slipping away under the guise of errands or charitable outings. But you couldn’t risk your parents catching on. To lessen their suspicions, you began inviting Ekko to your home. It was a calculated move, one that made your absences less frequent and gave the illusion that you’d abandoned your cause entirely.

Your room was a testament to Piltover’s grandeur, a lavish blend of opulence and elegance. High ceilings adorned with intricate gold detailing framed the space. The sheer curtains cascaded from tall windows, filtering moonlight across the polished marble floor. A canopy bed, draped in silken fabrics, sat at the room’s center, its pillows and blankets impossibly soft. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes ranging from engineering texts to poetry. A chandelier, all crystal and gleaming light, hung overhead, casting a warm glow over every corner.

It was in this very room that Ekko sat now, hidden behind the lush velvet curtains of one of the tall windows. Your father had come to check on you earlier, his heavy footsteps unmistakable in the hallway. When he entered, you were seated at your desk, feigning focus on a mundane ledger. He lingered by the door, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on you. “You’ve been staying home more often,” he observed.

You offered a nonchalant shrug. “I realized it was pointless to keep going there. It’s useless trying to fix what can’t be fixed.”

Your father’s face betrayed nothing, but there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “A wise choice,” he said simply, and without another word, he left.

The door clicked shut, and you exhaled slowly, waiting until his footsteps faded down the hall. Then, turning your head slightly, you murmured, “You can come out now.”

Ekko stepped from behind the curtains, his movements silent but confident. He was a great contrast to your room’s pristine elegance. His clothes patched and worn, his presence a reminder of the worlds you tried to somehow balance. “You’re getting good at lying,” he remarked, a teasing edge to his tone.

You rolled your eyes, motioning for him to sit on the plush chair near your desk. “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t insist on brainstorming plans here.”

“It’s safer,” he replied, settling into the chair and pulling a small notebook from his pocket. “Besides, you’re the one with the luxury of access. If we’re going to unite the cities, we need someone who can work both sides.”

You hated how his words made your heart race. Not because of their weight but because it was Ekko saying them. Somewhere in the months of sneaking around and strategizing, you’d grown to like him in a way that went far beyond friendly admiration. You buried those feelings deep, telling yourself there was no time for distractions.

The hours passed as the two of you pored over maps, scribbled ideas, and argued over logistics. The moon rose higher in the sky, its silver light pouring through the windows and bathing your room in an ethereal glow. Ekko grew quieter as the night wore on, his usual sharp wit replaced by a pensive silence. You noticed his gaze flickering to you more often, lingering for moments too long before darting away. At first, you ignored it, chalking it up to exhaustion. But when you caught him staring for the fifth time, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Something on your mind?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just thinking.”

“About?” you questioned, leaning back against your chair.

“About how strange it is, being here,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “This room, this world…it feels like it shouldn’t exist. Like it’s too perfect to be real.”

“It’s not perfect,” you said quietly, your gaze dropping to the papers on your desk. “It’s a gilded cage. Nothing more.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words. Then, slowly, he stood and crossed the room to where you sat.

“I hate to say this. But atleast i’m here…” he said hesitantly, his voice low and steady.

Something in his tone made your breath hitch. You looked up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in.

Ekko met you halfway, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that left you breathless. His hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. It was nothing like you'd imagined. It was raw, desperate, and full of the emotions you'd both kept bottled up for too long.

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you back toward the bed without breaking the kiss. The world blurred around you, your senses overwhelmed by the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, the way he made you feel alive in a way you never had before.

You fell onto the bed, the soft blankets and pillows cushioning your back as he leaned over you, his weight a comforting pressure. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kissed you again and again, each one more passionate than the last.

It wasn't until his arms braced on either side of your head that he pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared down at you. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the softness in his eyes.

"Do you want me to keep going?" he asked, his voice hoarse. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "You might as well…" And as he leaned down to kiss you again, you knew there was no going back from this.

Golden hues of the afternoon sun spilled into your room through the tall, arched windows, painting the polished wooden floors in a mosaic of light and shadow. Outside, the tranquil sounds of Piltover carried through the crisp air. The distant hum of mechanized carriages, the faint chatter of passersby, and the melodic chirping of birds perched along the grand gardens that surrounded your home. Everything was perfect, picturesque even, but it all felt hollow.

Your bedroom was a masterpiece of luxury, a reflection of House Arvino’s status. Elegant bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes you once eagerly devoured. A velvet armchair sat by the fireplace, its cushion still as pristine as the day it arrived, and your grand four-poster bed was draped in silk, untouched except for the rumpled corner where you sat. Yet, despite the warmth and beauty of the space, it felt cold.

You hadn’t touched your breakfast that morning, nor the one the day before. The silver tray your maid brought hours ago sat untouched on your writing desk, the tea long gone cold. Your appetite had vanished with him.

“Miss,” came a tentative voice from the doorway. You turned to see Anya, your maid, standing there with a concerned expression. She stepped into the room, her brow furrowed as her gaze swept over you. “You haven’t eaten again. This isn’t healthy.”

You waved her off without meeting her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she pressed gently, her voice tinged with worry. “You’ve barely touched your meals for over a week. If this continues, I’ll have to tell your parents.”

Her words sent a jolt through you. The last thing you wanted was for your parents to get involved. They wouldn’t understand. They never did. But you knew Anya was serious. Her loyalty to you didn’t outweigh her duty to ensure your well-being.

“Alright,” you relented, forcing a weak smile. “I’ll eat later.”

Anya didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and left the room. The heavy door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. You leaned back against the plush pillows of your bed, staring up at the intricate carvings on the ceiling. Days had turned into weeks since Ekko had kissed you in this very room. Weeks since you’d seen him, since you’d spoken to him. At first, you’d waited eagerly, expecting him to climb through your window with that same confident smirk he always wore. But as the days passed, hope turned to disappointment.

However, the first week had been agony. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the trees outside, had sent your heart racing, only for it to sink when you realized it wasn’t him. You told yourself he was busy, that Zaun demanded too much of him to spare a moment for you. But as the second week came and went, you began to question everything.

Was the kiss a mistake? Did he regret it? The thought gnawed at you, leaving you restless and irritable. Eventually, you stopped waiting. You stopped glancing at the window, stopped listening for the familiar sound of his footsteps. If he didn’t want to see you, then fine. You wouldn’t waste your time waiting for someone who clearly didn’t care.

But despite your best efforts to move on, the ache in your chest remained. It showed in the way you pushed away your meals, the way you avoided the social gatherings your parents encouraged you to attend. Your mother had noticed, of course, her sharp eyes taking in your pale complexion and listless demeanor. “Are you unwell, darling?” she’d asked one evening, her tone as polished as ever.

You’d smiled and lied, assuring her it was nothing more than fatigue. She’d accepted your answer, but her gaze lingered, skeptical.

Now, as you sat in your room, the weight of it all pressing down on you, you realized you couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t keep letting his absence control your life. If he didn’t care, then neither should you. But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, the truth was undeniable. You missed him.

The days stretched on, blending into a monotony of forced smiles and empty conversations. You threw yourself into the routines of Piltover’s elite. Attending social calls, charitable luncheons, and the parties where everyone whispered behind jeweled fans about alliances and intrigue. On the surface, you seemed like yourself again. You laughed when expected, nodded politely during dull conversations, and played the part of the perfect child of House Arvino.

But beneath the carefully constructed façade, a storm brewed. No matter how hard you tried to bury it, the memory of Ekko lingered, sharper and more vivid with each passing day. His voice, his touch, the way he had kissed you. It all haunted you. It didn’t make sense, you told yourself. He was just a friend, nothing more. Yet the thought of him ignoring you, of deliberately staying away, clawed at your chest.

One night, long after the rest of your house had gone to bed, you sat by your window, staring out at the glowing lights of Piltover. The thought hit you with the force of a hammer. You know deep down that you couldn’t keep waiting. If he wouldn’t come to you, then you would go to him.

The decision wasn’t easy. It took days to build up the courage, to push aside the fear of what you might find. But when you finally made your way to Zaun, the heavy air and dim light of the undercity greeted you like an old adversary. You navigated the twisting streets, every step bringing back memories of the times you’d spent here. How he had carefully and slowly opened this world to you, how you’d fought for it together. Well atleast try to.

When you finally reached the Firelights’ hideout, you felt your stomach tighten. It looked the same as ever, but something about it felt different. You spotted him almost immediately, standing near a table strewn with maps and tools, his back to you. “Ekko,” you called out, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest.

He turned slowly, his face unreadable. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. Was it surprise, maybe even relief. Either way it didn’t matter because it was gone in an instant, replaced by an icy look. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone cold.

The words hit you harder than you expected. “I… I came to see you. It’s been weeks, and—”

“And what?” He cut you off, turning away to fiddle with something on the table. “You’ve got a life up there. What do you need me for?”

Your chest tightened, anger bubbling to the surface. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I just forgot about you. You’re the one who stopped coming around.”

He scoffed, finally turning to face you. “Stopped coming around? You think I’ve got time to play house? I’ve got real things to deal with here, things that actually matter.”

The words stung, but you refused to back down. “And I don’t? Do you think it’s easy for me to come here, to fight for a place I don’t even belong to? I thought we were doing this together, Ekko.”

He stepped closer, his voice rising. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t belong here. This about you. You can go back to your fancy dinners and your perfect life anytime you want, but this is my reality.”

You clenched your fists, your own voice shaking with anger. “Don’t you dare act like I haven’t sacrificed anything! Do you know what it’s like to lie to everyone you care about, to pretend you’re someone you’re not, just so you can try to make a difference?”

“Sacrifice?” he shot back, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You don’t know the first thing about sacrifice.” The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you both. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the anger simmering in the silence.

Finally, you took a shaky breath, your voice softer but no less firm. “You don’t get to decide what I care about, Ekko. I came here because I thought you were my friend.”

He looked away, his jaw tight. “I didn’t ask for you to come.” The words were like a slap to the face, but you refused to let him see how much they hurt. “Fine,” you said, your voice cold. “If that’s how you feel, then I won’t bother you again.”

You turned on your heel, walking away before he could see the tears starting to swell in your eyes. But just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “Wait.”

You hesitated, your hand on the worn wood, but you didn’t turn around.

“I…” His voice faltered, the anger replaced by something softer. He inched his head as he paced around, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You looked back at him, his expression finally cracking. There was pain in his eyes, the same pain you’d been carrying for weeks.

“Then what did you mean?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I didn’t know what to say. After what happened, I thought it’d be easier if I stayed away. But it wasn’t.”

Your shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of you. Looking at with with complete disbelief. “Seriously! You could’ve just told me.”

He nodded, his expression filled with regret. “Yeah. I should’ve.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the weight of the argument lingering in the air. But as you looked at him, at the boy who had opened your eyes to so much, you felt the anger fade, replaced by something else. This was something you weren’t ready to admit to anyone.

A few months have passed and things were relatively calm, much hasn’t happened since then. The suffocating air of Piltover’s council chamber lingered in your mind as you strode through the bustling streets of Zaun. The conversations in those hallowed halls always left a bitter taste on your tongue. They spoke of progress and prosperity, but beneath the gilded rhetoric, it was all about control. To control of resources, people, and power. It was a game you were born into but had grown to despise.

You moved swiftly, your hood pulled low to shield your face from prying eyes. The undercity was alive with its usual chaos, but you’d long learned to navigate its labyrinthine streets without drawing attention. This was your escape, your solace. The world of House Arvino, your family’s wealth, influence, and ties to the Council. It all felt more like chains with each passing day.

The hideout was tucked deep within the shadows of Zaun, a sanctuary for the oppressed and rebellious. It had become a second home to you, a place where you could finally breathe. Ekko had been wary of you at first, rightfully so. Your name carried weight in Piltover, and trust wasn’t something he gave freely. But over time, you’d proven yourself.

Today, the air in the hideout was thick with tension. Ekko was at the center of it all, his voice calm but commanding as he gave orders to his crew. He noticed you immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as you approached.

“Back again?” he asked, leaning against a makeshift table. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a quiet concern he rarely voiced outright.

“I can’t seem to stay away,” you replied, offering a small smile.

His lips twitched, almost forming a grin, but he shook his head instead. “You’re playing a dangerous game, y’know?”

You shrugged. “I know.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering as if he was trying to decipher something. Then, with a sigh, he gestured for you to follow him to a quieter corner.

“What’s really going on?” he asked once you were alone. “You’ve been coming here more often, and I know it’s not just to check on the Firelights.”

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the edge of your cloak. “I… I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Pretending like everything’s fine topside when I know how much blood is on their hands. My family’s hands.”

He frowned, his usual confidence giving way to something softer. “You’re not responsible for what they do.”

“Aren’t I?” you countered, your voice rising. “I’m part of them, Ekko. Every time I go back to that house, every time I sit in those meetings, I’m complicit. I’m part of the system that’s crushing this place.”

The intensity of your words caught him off guard, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding. “Then why do you keep going back?”

“Because…” You trailed off, your throat tightening. “Because I thought I could help. That I could use my position to make a difference. But now, I’m not so sure. The Council sees Zaun as nothing more than a problem to be solved, more importantly, destroyed.”

Ekko’s jaw tightened, his anger barely contained. “They’ll never stop. Not unless we make them.”

You couldn’t stop thinking of the face ekko made when you told him what you were internally thinking. How the council thinks so poorly about zaun, how it can be something that wouldn’t be missed if it was gone. It was horrible that most of the topsiders thought the same way, had the same mindset.

You walked briskly, the streets unfamiliar under the heavy shadows of the evening. You had chosen this route for its discretion, a calculated decision that now felt dangerous in its isolation.

Your heart pounded in your chest, though you didn't want to admit why. It wasn't fear of being recognized or stopped by one of Zaun's residents. No, this was something more insidious. A seed of doubt planted by weeks of balancing on a blade's edge between two lives. House Arvino's influence was undeniable, and it had kept you shielded from true danger for so long. But here in Zaun, your family name meant less than nothing. To most, you were just another noble, another cog in the machine grinding them into dust.

Ambessa had recently cornered you in Piltover's glittering council halls, her words honeyed but laced with venom. She had offered you promises of power, privilege, and security for your family. In order to gain immunity from suspicion, all in exchange for complete submission. You'd nodded and played your role, but the encounter left you hollow. The high society life you'd once cherished now felt like a gilded cage, and her offer only tightened the bars.

Yet, her influence was terrifying. Under Ambessa's direction, the Council had started scrutinizing House Arvino with an alarming intensity. The Firelights, they claimed, had spies in Piltover. And somehow, House Arvino's connections to Zaun became their scapegoat. You were well aware of what that scrutiny meant-your family was being squeezed, maneuvered into a position where betrayal seemed the only way to survive. A betrayal by who? you thought.

As you turned a corner into an empty alley, those doubts turned into a growing unease. The silence around you felt oppressive, unnatural. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder. That was when the first strike landed, the butt of the gun hitting your head. You staggered, gasping in pain, only to be shoved against the damp wall. A rough hand grabbed your cloak and yanked it back, revealing your face to the enforcers.

"Well, well," one sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "A little lost noble playing savior in Zaun yet again."

"Let go!" you hissed, trying to pull free. But there were too many of them, and their grips were forceful and rough.

"We know all about your little meetings with the boy," another enforcer said, driving his fist into your stomach. "Did you really think you could run around down here without consequences? Or did your family forget to teach you how the real world works?" The pain blurred your vision as you crumpled to the ground. You clawed at the dirt, trying to crawl away, but another blow landed, then another.

Laughter echoed around you as they kicked and struck without mercy. The worst part wasn't the physical pain. It was the guilt, the sickening realization that you'd been naive enough to believe there could be change. Especially from within the Council's walls. You'd hoped that by walking the line between your family and the Firelights, you could create something better. But this? This was your reward for dreaming too much.

Tears blurred your vision as you curled into yourself, trying to shield your head. "Stupid," you whispered through clenched teeth. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." You slammed your fist against your temple, desperate to drown out the pain, the voices, the failure.

The enforcers stepped back momentarily, likely to assess whether you were still conscious. But before they could strike again, a loud crackling sound filled the air. "Back off," came a familiar voice, sharp and commanding.

You barely managed to open your eyes, but the sight was unmistakable. Ekko and his hoverboard gleaming as he charged forward. Behind him, several Firelights emerged from the shadows, their makeshift weapons glowing in the dim light.

"What the-" one enforcer started, but Ekko was already upon him, a precise swing of his bat sending the man sprawling. The Firelights fought with a ferocity that sent the enforcers scattering, though Ekko's eyes never left you. He reached your side in moments, dropping to his knees. "Hey," he said, his voice softer now. "Don’t go close your eyes, stay with me now."

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob. Blood trickled from a huge gash above your brow, staining your face. Ekko pressed a hand to your shoulder to steady you, but you flinched. Your fist weakly hitting your own head again. "Stop it," he said firmly, grabbing your wrist before you could hurt yourself further. "Hey! Don't do that."

"I'm an idiot," you mumbled, your voice barely audible. "| thought... I thought they could change. That Piltover could change. But I was wrong. They'll never stop."

His expression softened, though his jaw was still tight with anger. "You're not an idiot. You're just optimistic... too hopeful for your own good."

The Firelights surrounded you, their movements tense as they prepared for more enforcers to arrive. Ekko lifted you carefully, his arm supporting your weight. "We need to move," one of his crew said.

"Yeah i know," Ekko replied, his eyes still on you. "Let's get out of here."

As he carried you to safety, the weight of your choices pressed down on you like never before. Your family would demand answers. The Council would escalate their efforts. And Ambessa? Oh, she’s gonna have a fieldday with this. She would stop at nothing to make you pay for what she'd see, see it as a betrayal to your own people. But as Ekko held you steady, his presence a grounding force amidst the chaos, you realized something else. You were no longer just caught between two worlds, you were tearing one down to build the other.

Ekko’s chambers weren’t lavish, but they were purposeful, an organized chaos that spoke of a leader always in motion. The space was tucked inside one of the largest branches of the Firelight’s sprawling treehouse hideout. The soft glow of lanterns filled the room, their light reflecting off walls adorned with maps, sketches, and scattered tools. From the small window, you could see the hideout below, a buzzing network of walkways, platforms, and people moving with quiet purpose.

The bed you lay on was makeshift but sturdy, piled with blankets and pillows that smelled faintly of Zaun’s metal-tinged air. Your body ached everywhere. Sharp, stinging pains in some places, a deep, relentless soreness in others. Slowly, you tried to sit up, wincing as the movement sent sharp jolts of pain through your ribs.

Across the room, Ekko stood at a workbench, tinkering with something that sparked faintly under his fingers. His braids were tied back, and his jacket was slung over the back of a chair, leaving him in a simple shirt that clung to his frame. When he glanced over and saw you struggling to rise, his eyes widened, and he immediately abandoned his project.

“Hey, whoa—what do you think you’re doing?” he asked, crossing the room in a heartbeat.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you tried to wave him off.

“You’re not fine,” he countered, his hands carefully but firmly guiding you back down onto the bed. “You’ve been out for two days, and you can barely sit up without wincing.”

“I can handle it,” you said, though your body betrayed you with another sharp wince as you tried to adjust yourself on the pillows.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Ekko replied dryly, but his voice softened as he knelt beside the bed. “Seriously. You need to rest. Let me help.”

There was a quiet moment as he adjusted the pillows behind you, moving with surprising gentleness. His hands lingered briefly, his eyes scanning your face as if double checking for signs of discomfort.

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

He shook his head, leaning back on his heels. “You don’t have to thank me. I just… You scared the hell out of me, y’know?”

You glanced away, guilt stirring in your chest. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I didn’t think it would get THAT bad.”

Ekko sat back on the floor, his arms resting on his knees as he studied you. “Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “When I found you, you were hitting yourself and saying all these… awful things. About yourself.”

Your breath hitched at the memory, shame washing over you. “It’s just… something I do when I’m frustrated,” you admitted, not meeting his gaze. “I was angry, at everyone and everything. Y’know, I thought I could make a difference, but I was wrong. I let everyone down.”

“Oh come on don’t say that,” Ekko said firmly, cutting you off. “You didn’t let anyone down. You’re one of the only people from Piltover who actually cares about Zaun. And yeah, maybe you were too optimistic, but that’s not a bad thing. You don’t deserve what they did to you.” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, he added, “It’s not safe for you to go back to Piltover.”

You frowned, meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been hearing things,” Ekko said, his expression darkening. “Rumors. Ambessa’s pissed. She thinks you’ve betrayed the Council, and she’s not the kind of person to let something like that slide. Word is, she wants your head.” The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest, and you slumped back against the pillows. “So that’s it, then?” you said bitterly. “I can’t go home. I can’t go back to Piltover. What am I supposed to do now?”

Ekko leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “You stay here,” he said simply. “With me. You’ve got people who will vouch for you for the most part. I’ll fight for you.” Something in his tone made your chest tighten, and for the first time in days, a small, hesitant smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Ekko. For literally everything.”

He reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “Anytime .”

, marked with red ink, highlighted the areas where House Arvino’s trade routes intersected with Zaun’s underbelly.

A grizzled Baron leaned forward, his metallic fingers tapping against the table. “House Arvino’s little noble has gone rogue,” he rasped, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “The Council’s after them, sure, but that just makes this all the more interesting for us.”

Another Baron, her voice honeyed but sharp, chimed in. “If we get our hands on them, imagine the leverage we’d have. Not just over Arvino, but the Council and even the Firelights. They’re a walking, breathing key to the chaos we’ve been craving.”

“They’re already in Zaun,” another added, her tone laced with confidence. “All we need is patience. When the time is right, we’ll make our move.” The Barons exchanged nods, their plan unspoken but clear. For now, they would wait, watching, their web of spies and informants slowly tightening around you.

From across the platform, Ekko leaned casually against a railing, watching the interaction unfold. His arms were crossed, but there was a noticeable softness in his gaze, a flicker of something close to admiration.

In the days that followed, the children of the hideout began to gravitate toward you. They tugged at your hands, peppering you with questions about Piltover and laughing at your awkward attempts to keep up with their boundless energy. You found yourself helping where you could, organizing supplies, assisting with small repairs, and even attempting to teach some of the younger ones how to read.

Though the older Firelights were slower to trust, you noticed their glances were no longer as sharp, their whispers not as harsh. You were earning your place here, bit by bit, though it was a far cry from the life you had once known. Piltover, with its grand halls and polished façades, felt like a distant memory now, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to cling to.

Ekko, ever watchful, seemed to take quiet satisfaction in your efforts. He didn’t say much, but his presence was definitely there. Whether he was checking on you or working alongside the others. There was a rhythm to life in the hideout, and you were beginning to find your place within it.

Unbeknownst to you, danger loomed closer than you realized. The Chem Barons’ spies were everywhere, watching, reporting back with meticulous detail. Every interaction you had, every movement you made, was noted. To them, you were a pawn in a much larger game, one that could tip the balance of power in Zaun.

“They’re softening,” one spy reported back, his voice low as he spoke into a communicator hidden beneath his cloak. “The Firelights trust them more every day. If we move now, it’ll be too obvious.”

“Let them feel safe,” came the reply, cold and calculating. “When the time is right, we’ll take them. And when we do, House Arvino will learn what happens when they meddle in Zaun’s affairs.”

It was another ordinary morning in the hideout when you decided to venture outside Ekko’s chambers. The soreness in your body was a dull ache now, manageable but constant. As you stepped onto the main platform, the sunlight filtering through the leaves felt warm on your skin, a stark contrast to the chill of Piltover’s marble halls.

You hadn’t noticed Ekko watching you until you caught his reflection in the metal plating of a nearby railing. He was perched on a ledge, his goggles pushed up onto his forehead, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re staring again,” you said, your tone teasing as you turned to face him fully.

Ekko smirked, hopping down from the ledge with practiced ease. “Just making sure you’re not overdoing it,” he shot back. “You’ve got a habit of biting off more than you can chew.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms despite the ache in your shoulders. “I’m fine, Ekko. I’ve been fine. You don’t have to keep hovering.”

His expression softened, but he didn’t back down. “Someone has to. If it weren’t for me, you’d probably still be lying in the street.” The reminder stung, not because it wasn’t true, but because it forced you to confront just how fragile your position had become. You looked away, scanning the hideout below where Firelights bustled about their tasks. The children’s laughter floated up, a soothing balm to the tension that threatened to settle between you and Ekko.

“I’ve been trying to help,” you murmured. “I don’t want to be a burden. It’s just that…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put the conflict in your heart into words.

Ekko stepped closer, his voice low and steady. “You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “But you’re not invincible either. And if you keep throwing yourself into danger like this, someone’s going to take advantage of it.” His words hit harder than you cared to admit, but before you could respond, a group of children came running up, dragging you into their latest adventure A game that involved climbing ropes strung between the platforms. You gave Ekko a grateful smile, silently promising him you’d be careful, even if you weren’t entirely sure how.

That night, as the Firelights settled into the quiet hum of evening, Ekko pulled you aside. His chambers felt more like a refuge now than a room, its warmth amplified by the soft glow of firelight reflecting off polished metal and glass.

“You’ve been doing good here,” he began, leaning against his workbench. “The kids adore you, and even the older crew is starting to come around. But it’s not just about fitting in, you know?”

You tilted your head, unsure where he was going with this. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his fingers drumming against the table. “The Chem Barons,” he said finally, his tone heavy. “They’ve got their eyes on you now. Your family’s deals with them? Those don’t go unnoticed. And with the Council already hunting you, you’re stuck between two very dangerous sides.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a shroud. “So what do I do?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Ekko stepped closer, his gaze meeting yours. “Like i said earlier, you stay here. The Firelights are your best chance now. We’ll protect you, but you’ve got to let us.”

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the fear gnawing at your resolve. “And my family?”

“Well they already made their choice,” he said, his tone softening. “Now you’ve got to make yours.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The firelight flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. Ekko’s steady presence was a comfort, a reminder that you weren’t as alone as you felt.

You have spent the last few weeks peacefully managing your new life in zaun. As for today, it was surely a day to remember. It had been long but rewarding. You’d spent most of it helping around the hideout, patching up clothes, organizing supplies, and entertaining the children with small stories and makeshift games. Their laughter had been infectious, warming a part of you that you didn’t even realize had grown cold. But now, as the sun set and the last streaks of orange faded from the sky, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy blanket.

Returning to Ekko’s chambers felt like stepping into a sanctuary. The room was quiet, the gentle hum of activity outside muffled by the thick wood and steel walls. The soft glow of a makeshift lamp illuminated the space, casting warm shadows across the worn furniture. The room smelled faintly of oil and smoke, mixed with something earthy. You didn’t even bother taking off your boots, flopping onto the bed with a sigh and burying your face in the worn but surprisingly soft blankets.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours. You weren’t sure. You only stirred when you heard the sound of the door opening and closing quietly. Lifting your head, you spotted Ekko standing near the entrance, his figure backlit by the dim lights outside. His jacket was off, his sleeveless shirt revealing the lean muscle of his arms. His hair was tied back tonight, though a few strands had fallen loose, framing his face in a way that made your chest tighten.

“You look dead,” he teased, though there was no humor in his voice. His eyes swept over you, his usual sharpness softened by concern.

“I feel dead,” you replied, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Ekko crossed the room in a few long strides, pulling a chair closer to sit by the bedside. “Long day?”

You nodded, not bothering to sit up. “Rewarding, though. The kids are exhausting, but in a good way. I think I’m finally starting to feel like I’m… I don’t know, contributing?”

He leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “You’ve done more than enough already. They’re warming up to you faster than I thought they would. Guess you’ve got a knack for making people feel safe.”

His words brought a faint smile to your lips, but your body felt too heavy to do much more than that. “Maybe. Or maybe they just like the shiny Piltover noble playing dress-up as a Firelight.”

“You’re more than that,” he said softly, almost too softly for you to hear. The weight of his gaze drew your attention. Turning your head, you found his eyes fixed on you, dark and intense in a way that made your stomach twist. There was something unspoken in his expression, something raw and magnetic.

“Ekko,” you said, his name slipping from your lips like a warning. He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought himself closer to your level. The air between you grew thick, charged with an unspoken tension that neither of you seemed willing to break.

Your breath hitched as his hand moved, not to touch you, but to hover near your face, as if he wasn’t sure he had the right. “You should rest,” he said finally, though his voice was strained, as though it was the last thing he wanted to say.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice betrayed you. There was a nervous tremor there, one that you couldn’t quite suppress.

“You’re not,” he replied, his tone sharper this time, though the edge was softened by the way his hand dropped to his lap, curling into a fist. “And you shouldn’t have to keep pretending you are.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest. He was too close, his presence overwhelming in a way that left you both yearning and terrified. For a moment, you thought he might lean in, that he might close the unbearable distance between you. And part of you wanted him to. But you couldn’t.

As if sensing your hesitation, Ekko pulled back, though his expression betrayed the conflict raging inside him. He rose from the chair abruptly, turning his back to you as he ran a hand over his face. “I need to check on something,” he said, his voice tight.

You sat up slightly, confusion and guilt warring within you. “Ekko, wait—”

“There’s food on the table,” he interrupted, not turning to face you. “You should eat. And…” He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I left something for you. Thought you might like it.”

Before you could respond, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. You stared at the space he’d just vacated, the room suddenly feeling much larger and lonelier than it had before.

Rising from the bed, you made your way to the small table in the corner. A covered plate of food sat there, still warm, alongside a neatly wrapped package. Your fingers trembled as you opened it, revealing a small, intricately carved pendant in the shape of a firefly. The sight of it brought a lump to your throat. You clutched the pendant tightly, sinking back into the chair as a wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm you. Ekko had left, but his presence lingered in every corner of the room, in the care he’d shown you, in the gift he’d left behind.

You closed your eyes, the weight of the hectic day and the unresolved tension between you pressing down like a heavy blanket. But even as exhaustion pulled you under, you couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes. The way they had looked at you, filled with longing and restraint.

Hours ticked by like an endless parade of thoughts that refused to settle. You sat in Ekko’s chair, knees drawn up slightly as your elbows resting on them. cradling your head in your hands. A sigh escaped your lips, heavy and full of frustration, as your thoughts spiraled into overthinking once again. Why hadn’t he kissed you earlier?

At first, you tried to dismiss it as if it was nothing, just a fleeting moment, something that could be easily explained away by the heat of the moment. But deep down, you knew better. The way he had looked at you wasn’t casual or friendly. It was something more, something intense and unspoken.

Still, you couldn’t help but doubt. Maybe he had been teasing, the way friends sometimes did to lighten the mood. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, and you’d simply read too much into it. But then your mind wandered back to that day in your bedroom. The memory of his closeness as the tension that sparked between you like lightning in a thunderstorm.

Friends don’t act like that.

But then again, why had he ignored you for weeks after that moment? Why hadn’t he said anything or even done anything, to give you some clarity? The questions swirled in your head, each one feeding into the next, until your chest felt tight and your breathing shallow.

You let out another sigh, leaning forward until your forehead almost touched your knees. “What are you doing to me, Ekko?” you murmured to yourself, the words barely audible in the quiet room.

You glanced at the door for the hundredth time, wondering where he’d gone. What was keeping him out so late or rather so early, given the faint light of sun beginning to creep into the room. Would he even come back tonight? Or was this going to be like before, where he disappeared for days, leaving you to piece together the fragments of what you thought you understood about him?

The thought of being ignored again made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared to admit. You leaned back in the chair, closing your eyes against the onslaught of emotions. Sleep pulled at you, but you resisted, stubbornly staying awake as if you could somehow summon him back to you. Eventually, though, your exhaustion won. Your head lolled against the back of the chair, your breathing evening out as sleep claimed you.

Ekko slipped into the room quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound against the wooden floor. The sight of you hit him like a punch to the chest. There you were, curled up in his chair, fast asleep. Your face was soft in slumber, but there was a faint crease between your brows. Almost as if even your dreams couldn’t fully erase the tension you’d been feeling. His gaze softened as he took you in, a pang of guilt threading through his chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Jeez…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Carefully, he crossed the room and crouched beside you. You stirred slightly at his presence, murmuring something incoherent. Without thinking, he slid one arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you effortlessly into his strong arms.

You mumbled something again, your head lolling against his shoulder. Which caused him to freeze for a moment, waiting to see if you’d wake up. But you didn’t. He carried you to the bed and laid you down gently, pulling the blanket over you.

As he turned to step away, he felt your hand grab weakly at his shirt. “Don’t go,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. He froze in place, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked down at you, your eyes half-open and drowsy but locked onto his.

“You shouldn’t sleep in a chair,” you continued, your words slightly slurred. “And you… shouldn’t leave me like that.”

His breath caught. “I wasn’t going to leave,” he said softly.

You tugged at his shirt again, pulling him closer. He sank down onto the edge of the bed, his face hovering close to yours. “Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The question hung in the air, heavy and electrified. Ekko’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing a deep red. “What?”

“When you had the chance,” you mumbled, your voice fading as sleep pulled at you again. “You looked like you wanted to, but you didn’t. Why?”

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The proximity, the softness of your voice and the vulnerability in your question. It was almost too much to handle. He didn’t know how to answer. Hell, he didn’t even know if he could answer it.

“You were exhausted,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think it was the right time.”

You hummed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re so stubborn,” you whispered, your eyes drifting shut.

He exhaled shakily, his heart continued its rapid pace as he watched you fall back into sleep. For a moment, he just sat there, his gaze tracing the outline of your beautiful face. He wanted to kiss you. God, he wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt. But he wouldn’t. Not yet. Not like this.

Instead, he stood and grabbed the chair, dragging it closer to the bed. He sat down and rested his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing, to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He stayed there until the drowsiness claimed him too.

You woke to the warmth of sunlight streaming through the cracks in the wooden walls, a golden glow bathing the room. It was already late, half the day gone, by the looks of it. You woke up to the warmth of the sun shining through the cracks on the wooden walls. It bathed the room. You stretched lazily under the blanket, the aches in your body from the past few days reduced to a dull throb. Turning your head, you saw Ekko. Who was still slumped in the chair beside the bed, asleep.

Your brow furrowed as you watched him. His head rested awkwardly on one hand, his legs stretched out, his shoulders slightly hunched. How could he sleep like that? He must’ve spent the entire night sitting there just to keep an eye on you.

How can he sacrifice his comfort like this?

You studied him, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his features. He looked so tired, so worn down. Ekko carried so much on his shoulders. The Firelights, the fight for Zaun’s freedom, the safety of the kids who looked up to him. And not to mention you as well. It wasn’t fair, you thought. He gave so much of himself and rarely took a moment for his own peace.

You slid out of bed quietly, wincing at the soreness in your muscles, and approached him. Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake. “Ekko,” you said softly.

He stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open, and then he bolted upright, instinctively swatting your hand away. His palm struck yours with more force than he intended, making you hiss at the sting.

“Shit,” he muttered, sitting up fully now, his face a mixture of alarm and regret. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, shaking your hand out with a small wince. “It happens.”

He ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. “I shouldn’t have—”

“You shouldn’t have spent the whole night sleeping in a chair,” you cut in, your tone playful but firm. “Are you crazy? You’ll wreck your back.”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into a faint, sheepish smile. “It’s not the first time.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” you said, crossing your arms.

He gave you a tired chuckle, leaning back in the chair. “I’ll survive. I’ve been through worse.”

But that wasn’t enough for you. Watching him now, the weariness in his eyes even as he tried to act like everything was fine. An idea sparked in your mind, one that you knew he’d hate at first. But it was for his own good.

You grinned, your excitement bubbling over as you clapped your hands together. “I have a surprise for you!”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. “A surprise?”

“Yep!” you said, bouncing on your heels, your eyes alight with mischief. “But I’m not telling you what it is. You’ll just have to trust me.”

His skepticism deepened. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning down slightly to meet his gaze. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

He gave you a flat look. “I think I left it behind when I became the leader of the Firelights.”

You pouted dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “That’s tragic. Guess I’ll have to help you find it again.”

Ekko shook his head, laughing softly despite himself. “You sure are something alright”

“Yep!” you chirped, grabbing his hand and tugging him to his feet. “Now, come on.”

He resisted, planting his feet firmly. “Wait. I have things to do. The kids—”

“They’ll survive without you for a few hours,” you said, cutting him off with a pointed look. “You need this, Ekko. Trust me.” He opened his mouth to argue, but the determination in your eyes stopped him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But you’d better not get me killed.”

You grinned triumphantly, grabbing a scarf from the nearby table. “Oh, and one more thing.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

You stepped closer, holding up the scarf. “You’re getting blindfolded.”

“Nope,” he said immediately, crossing his arms.

“Yep,” you countered, your grin widening. “It’s part of the surprise.”

“I’m not letting you blindfold me,” he said firmly.

“Aw, are you scared?” you teased, leaning in closer.

His jaw tightened, and you could tell he was trying not to rise to the bait. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like surprises.”

“Well, too bad,” you said, wrapping the scarf around his eyes before he could stop you. He grumbled under his breath, but you could see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re lucky I’m weak for you,” he muttered, his voice low and resigned. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you quickly brushed it off, tightening the knot of the blindfold. “You won’t regret this. Promise.”

He sighed dramatically. “I already regret it.”

You laughed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the door. “Come on, leader of the Firelights. Let me lead you away to freedom.”

He followed reluctantly, grumbling the whole way, but you could feel the tension in his hand slowly easing as he let himself trust you. And deep down, you knew that despite his protests, he didn’t truly mind.

Ekko groaned softly as you guided him along yet another bend in the trail. The blindfold tied snugly around his head meant he couldn’t see where he was stepping, which made the journey feel even longer. His feet ached from the uneven terrain, and he couldn’t tell how far you’d dragged him from the hideout. “How much longer?” he asked, a playful but weary edge in his voice. “I’m pretty sure I’ve walked enough to circle Zaun twice by now.”

You laughed softly, your tone teasing. “Not much farther. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

He scoffed but didn’t pull away from your guiding hand. “You said that an hour ago.”

“Well, this time, I mean it!” you chirped, your excitement palpable. “And quit complaining. You’re a leader, remember? A little hike shouldn’t break you.”

Ekko grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. He trusted you, blindfold and all. Still, his curiosity was killing him. The journey had been filled with faint sounds of nature, quite the opposite to the chaos of Zaun. The air was fresher here, the scent of greenery blending with faintly damp earth. Birds chirped somewhere above, and there was an unfamiliar stillness that made him uneasy in its serenity.

Finally, the sound of running water reached his ears. It was gentle but distinct, the rhythmic splash growing louder as you led him forward.

“Is that a waterfall?” Ekko questioned as he looked around blindfolded, listening with his ears.

“Nope,” you said cheekily, your grin audible in your tone.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

The moment his boots scuffed against flat, smooth rock, you stopped. You squeezed his hand and stepped in front of him, your fingers brushing against the scarf as you untied the blindfold. “Okay, are you ready?” you asked, your voice playful.

“Depends,” he shot back. “Am I about to fall into a pit of snakes or something?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just hold still.” With a dramatic flourish, you pulled the blindfold away. “Ta-da!”

Ekko blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light. The sight before him was breathtaking. The waterfall cascaded gently down smooth stone, its waters pooling into a crystal-clear basin surrounded by moss-covered rocks. The greenery around it was lush, vibrant, and untouched, with delicate vines draping over the edges of the falls like curtains. Shafts of sunlight streamed through gaps in the canopy, casting a golden glow over the scene. It felt like another world. Like something out of a dream. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just taking it all in.

“Well?” you asked, bouncing slightly on your heels. “Do you like it?”

“It’s… something,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. His gaze lingered on the water, the way it shimmered in the sunlight. “I didn’t know there were places like this between Piltover and Zaun.”

You smiled, feeling proud of yourself. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

He turned to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll give you that. But…” His expression shifted, concern creeping in. “Should I really be out here? The hideout—”

You cut him off, your tone firm but not unkind. “Ekko.”

He paused, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I’m serious,” you continued, your voice softening. “If you really feel like you need to go back, you can. I won’t stop you.” You hesitated, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I mean… I’ll understand.”

He studied your face, noticing the way your eyes darted away as if you were trying to hide how much the thought bothered you. You were giving him a choice, but it was clear how much you didn’t want him to leave.

Ekko let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really bad at hiding what you’re feeling, you know that?”

You glanced up at him, startled. “Who, me?”

“Yes you. But relax,” he said, his tone gentle. “I’ll stay.”

Your eyes lit up, and before he could say anything else, you were practically jumping in place, your joy spilling over. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small chuckle, watching you with amusement. “Don’t make me regret it.”

You grinned, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the water. “You won’t. I promise.”

For the next two hours, the two of you wandered the area, exploring the hidden beauty of the place. The tension from earlier melted away, replaced by a comfortable ease as you talked and laughed together.

Ekko, ever curious, peppered you with questions about your life topside. “So, what’s it like being a noble?” he asked, kicking a stray pebble along the path. “I’m guessing it’s all fancy parties and expensive clothes?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not quite. Sure, there’s all the glamour, but it’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

You sighed, nudging a rock with the tip of your boot. “My parents had this… idea of what the perfect daughter should be. Polished, obedient, always smiling. I never really fit the mold.”

Ekko tilted his head, studying you. “Doesn’t sound like you.”

“Exactly,” you said with a wry smile. “I was always too stubborn, too opinionated. They wanted me to follow their rules, and I wanted to make my own.”

“Sounds familiar,” he said, a hint of understanding in his voice.

You glanced at him, curiosity sparking. “What about you? Ever feel like people expect too much from you?”

He let out a short laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets. “All the time. Being the leader, people look to me for answers. For direction. It’s… a lot.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “And yet you never take a break.”

“Someone has to keep things running,” he said simply.

You stopped walking, turning to face him. “And what happens when you burn out? What then?”

He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, your words sinking in.

“See that’s what this is about,” you said gently. “You need to take care of yourself, too, Ekko. Not just everyone else.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he gave a small nod, the vulnerability in his expression making your chest tighten.

Soon the peace of the waterfall was shattered by the faint sound of voices approaching. Ekko froze, his head snapping toward the direction of the noise. You followed his gaze, your heart sinking as the muffled conversation grew clearer. It wasn’t just random passersby. The tone was too low and suspicious.

“Get down,” Ekko whispered urgently, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the water.

“Ow, hey-!” you hissed back, but before you could argue, he tugged you forward.

The two of you splashed quietly into the cool water, wading toward a large rock near the waterfall’s edge. Its size provided enough cover to hide you both, but your movements felt clumsy and loud in the stillness of the moment. Every splash made your heart race, and every breath felt too loud.

You crouched low, gripping the edge of the rock as you peered out cautiously. The voices were clearer now, distinctly rough and laced with malice.

“… shipments are in place. Should be an easy job if everyone keeps quiet,” one of the men said, his voice gruff.

“Easy? You think dealing with Piltover’s dogs is ever easy?” another sneered.

“Relax. It’s all set up. By the time they realize what’s happening, we’ll already be gone,�� the first man replied with a dismissive chuckle.

Your ears were ringing, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making it hard to focus. Your breathing quickened, and the world around you felt distant, the voices blending into an indistinct hum. “Hey,” Ekko spoke quietly beside you, nudging your arm. But you didn’t respond, your mind spinning.

“Hey!” he whispered again, more insistent this time. He leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. Finally, his voice broke through the fog in your mind. You turned your head slightly, meeting his sharp gaze. Before you could say anything, his hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you.

“Don’t-” he mouthed, his tone firm but his touch surprisingly gentle. His eyes were steady, reassuring, even as they flicked toward the Chem-Barons’ direction.

You nodded, your breathing still uneven but quieter now. His hand lingered for a second longer before he slowly pulled it away, his fingers brushing against your skin. The tension between you was palpable. The closeness and adrenaline, it all made the space between you feel charged with something. You were about to whisper something when the sound of boots crunching against the rocky terrain snapped your focus back.

“Keep it moving,” one of the voices barked. “We’re wasting time.”

The group of men moved on, their voices fading into the distance. Only when the silence stretched did Ekko exhale, his shoulders finally relaxing. He peeked cautiously around the rock, ensuring they were truly gone before turning back to you.

“We’re clear,” he whispered, though his voice carried an edge of lingering tension.

You nodded, still crouched behind the rock, your limbs stiff from staying still for so long. Ekko moved toward the water’s edge and helped you climb back onto the bank. You followed his lead, water dripping from your clothes and pooling at your feet as you tried to steady your racing heart.

“Chem-Barons,” he muttered, more to himself than you. He looked toward the direction the men had gone, his expression hardening. “They’re up to something. And if they’re this close, it’s bad news.”

You wrung out your sleeves, watching him warily. “Do you think they saw us?”

“No,” he said firmly, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Still… we need to get back.”The urgency in his voice left no room for argument, and you agreed without hesitation.

The journey back to the hideout was tense. Ekko moved swiftly, his steps purposeful and his gaze darting toward every sound in the dense trees. You struggled to keep up, your thoughts spiraling as your footsteps lagged behind his.

What if the Chem-Barons had seen you? What if they followed you back? Your chest tightened as the weight of your continuous overthinking pressed down on you. You replayed the encounter in your mind, picking apart every detail. Had you been too loud? Too slow? What if something went wrong because of you?

“Keep up,” Ekko called over his shoulder, his voice low but urgent.

You blinked, realizing how far behind you’d fallen. Quickening your pace, you forced yourself to focus on his figure ahead of you, his steady movements grounding you in the moment.

When you finally reached the hideout, the familiar sounds of laughter and the hum of activity greeted you. The Firelights’ sanctuary seemed untouched, the chaos of the outside world unable to penetrate its walls. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Ekko headed straight for Scar, who was leaning against a rusty table, tinkering with a small device.

“Everything okay?” Ekko asked, his tone sharp.

Scar glanced up, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah. Quiet as usual. Why?”

Ekko hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

“Oh nothing, just checking.” he said finally, though the tension in his posture remained. Scar gave him a curious look but shrugged, returning to his work.

You lingered near the entrance, your damp clothes clinging to your skin as you scanned the area. Everything seemed normal, the kids laughing, people working on repairs, the occasional drone zipping by. But you couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in your chest.

Later that evening, you sat by yourself in one of the quieter corners of the hideout, staring blankly at the firelight lamp in front of you. Your mind was still spinning, your earlier overthinking creeping back in.

“You okay?” Ekko’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to find him standing nearby, his expression softer now.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, though the tightness in your voice betrayed you.

He frowned, stepping closer and crouching down so he was at eye level with you. “You’ve been quiet since we got back. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about what happened earlier. What if we were seen? What if they followed us? What if—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “Nothing happened. Everything is fine. The hideout is fine.” You nodded, but your shoulders remained tense.

Ekko sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Worrying until you exhaust yourself i see.”

“I just can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sat down beside you, close enough that his knee brushed against yours. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot to deal with. But we can’t let them get in our heads. That’s what they want—to make us paranoid, to make us slip up.”

You looked at him, his calm determination grounding you once more. “I just don’t want to fuck things over for the millionth time.”

“You won’t,” he said simply, his confidence in you unwavering. For a moment, the tension between you eased, and you allowed yourself to breathe.

The night stretched on, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence. When Ekko finally stood, he stretched and yawned, his usual energy dimmed by the day’s events.

“Well, I’m gonna check on a few things,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

You joking said, raised an eyebrow. “Here you go again, always busy.”

He smirked, his usual charm peeking through. “Says the person who can’t stop worrying.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. As he walked away, you found yourself watching him, your chest tightening with admiration. You couldn’t quite name why. The hideout was quiet now, most of its inhabitants having turned in for the night. You eventually made your way to your small corner of the space, lying down on your bed and staring up at the ceiling.

But sleep didn’t come easily. Your mind kept drifting back to Ekko. The way he had looked at you by the waterfall, the way his hand had lingered on your arm when he pulled you out of the water, the way he had stayed by your side despite everything. Ekko, it’s always him. He always even if you tried to deny it, has an affect on you. You sighed, closing your eyes and willing your racing thoughts to quiet.

A wind of cool night air hit you as you slipped out of the hideout. The faint scent of distant rain mixing with the scent of metal and smoke that always lingered in the air of Zaun. Ekko had been out helping with a situation that had gotten out of hand. It had something to do with one of the Firelights getting into trouble, as usual. He hadn’t been there to protest when you quietly slipped out of the hideout, and part of you was relieved. You needed to clear your head, to have a moment of peace where you didn’t have to think about the danger you constantly felt closing in around you. It slowly suffocating you. Unbearable.

You had heard rumors, of course. Whispers and murmurs of people coming after you because of who you were, because of your connection to the topside. They had no idea who you were, only what they thought you were. You couldn’t allow them to find out. But tonight, you weren’t thinking about that. You were thinking about how to live in the moment, even if it was fleeting.

The Last Drop was not your first choice, but it was the closest. The faint buzz of people laughing, drinking, and shouting hit your ears as you stepped inside. Your heart raced slightly, but you pushed it down. You’d taken precautions, after all. The cloak you wore concealed the colors of your family, the opulence that could mark you a target from a mile away. With your hood low, you blended in with the crowd, keeping your gaze focused on the bar, where the noise was loud enough to drown out any attention.

“Drink?” the barkeep asked, raising an eyebrow at you, the flickering light of the bar casting long shadows across his face.

“Something strong,” you replied, trying to sound casual, though your nerves were anything but.

A quick, hard drink was what you needed. You knew the risks of coming here. This wasn’t the safest place in Zaun, but it was the only place that wouldn’t ask questions about who you were. The clinking of glass and the murmur of conversation surrounded you, a blend of voices that blurred into one singular buzz in your head.

You let your gaze wander as you took your first sip. The bitter warmth of the alcohol spread through your throat, giving you a momentary sense of relief, but it didn’t last. Your eyes flicked to the edges of the bar, noticing the way people moved. There was a tension in the air, something off, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Your fingers tightened around the glass as the sensation of being watched crept down your spine.

Before you could dismiss the feeling, something sharp pricked your neck. You froze, the sensation like a needle pushing into your skin. A wave of dizziness hit you instantly, disorienting and deep. You jerked your hand to your neck, but there was nothing to see. No blood, no sign of injury. Just a strange, heavy heat creeping through your veins, seeping into your bloodstream, clouding your thoughts.

The world around you tilted. It was a slow shift at first, just a sense of things being slightly off, but soon it became overwhelming. The air felt thicker, the sounds louder, as though the entire bar was buzzing, vibrating against the space between you and them. Your chest tightened, and a cold sweat broke out across your skin. ‘No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now.

Shimmer. You realized it too late. The telltale signs were unmistakable. That feeling where your body was being pulled apart, your thoughts slowly being smothered by a fog. You clenched your teeth, trying to fight it, trying to keep yourself from losing control.

“Hey, you okay?” a voice broke through the chaos in your mind. One of the patrons had noticed, a man with wild eyes and a drink in his hand. He was staring at you with concern, but you barely registered his words.

“I’m fine,” you said, though it came out more like a growl. You stood up quickly, the motion far too fast for your brain to follow. The room spun around you, the floor swaying beneath your feet like the deck of a ship caught in a storm. Your hands shot out to steady yourself against the bar, but it felt like everything was slipping away.

The bartender moved closer, his voice urgent. “You need to sit down. You’re not looking good.”

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t let them see you like this. You tried to move toward the door, but your legs wouldn’t obey. Each step was like wading through thick tar, the world warping around you. Your vision blurred, and before you knew it, you were on the floor, struggling to push yourself up, your limbs stiff and heavy.

“Help!” someone shouted, but the word sounded distant, muffled, as if coming from underwater.

You didn’t know what was happening to you anymore. The pain in your head started to intensify. No. Don’t lose control. But it was too late. The shimmer was already twisting your mind, and it wasn’t long before the voices began. They started quiet, like whispers in the back of your head, but soon they became clear.

Someone spoke your name. Your father’s voice.

“You never lived up to my expectations, did you?” The accusation burned in your ears. “Always the disappointment.”

You wanted to scream at the voice to shut up, to make it go away, but all you could do was stand there, shaking, your hands gripping the counter as you tried to steady yourself.

“You think you can escape me? No one escapes me,” your father’s voice mocked. “No one escapes their blood.”

The voices overlapped. Shut up. You couldn’t make out the words. You only felt the anger, regret, and shame. You felt like you were drowning in it. The voices kept yelling, taunting you, until you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. You swung at the air, trying to bat them away, but there was nothing there.

Why don’t you listen? You never do what I ask, do you?

Another voice, it was your mother now, cold and distant. “You’re useless to me. Always have been.”

The pain was unbearable. Your head throbbed as you sank to your knees, clutching at your skull, your fingers digging into your scalp in a futile attempt to stop the onslaught of voices. Get out of my head!

You screamed, but it was a scream that only echoed inside your mind. Your body trembled, and you stumbled backward, falling into the chaos that surrounded you.

“Someone get them out of here!” someone shouted, but it was like the words couldn’t break through the fog that had settled over your mind. You could hear them, feel them moving around you, but they were all far away. Then, another voice. This one was different. It was familiar.

“Hey, listen to me.” Ekko. His voice, clear and strong, cut through the chaos. You tried to focus on it, on him, but it was so hard. Your mind was a warzone. You gasped for air, your hands pressed against your chest, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of the shimmer. You looked around, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw him standing there, reaching out for you, but when you blinked, he was gone.

Your vision darkened, the last remnants of the shimmer clouding everything. You couldn’t stand anymore. You collapsed against the ground, your breath ragged as the world spun out of control.

“Ekko…” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you said it out loud or if it was just another hallucination. The voices faded as everything went black.

part two soon!

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[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

���Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 8

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Author's note: Sorry it took so long. I rewrote this whole chapter because I was just not happy with it. Though I am glad I took the time because this chapter feels more critical than what I would have released. Plus college and work have been a hot mess, so updates might be slower but they should be same quality.

You sat at the breakfast table by yourself. Last night you could barely sleep after burning the blood cover clothes. In the end you had maybe one or two hours of sleep. Giving up at 6:30am you went down early for breakfast.

There was a yawn from the hallway shortly before Barbara rolled into the dining room. She stopped at the entrance to the room, blinking at you. "Oh morning. You're up early."

"So are you. Or do you count this as late?" You leaned back in your chair. One of the books you had gotten with Duke in your hands. There was a decent calm but you still didn't like the quiet.

Barbara rolled closer to you. She stopped when she was sitting next you. Placing her hands on the table, she took a deep breath. You paused your reading to look her. She had a look on her face that told you she was about to ask questions. You shifted yourself away from her slightly, "Don’t. Please just don't."

"I'm trying to find who hurt you (Name). I just... I need a little more information to work with." Barbara leaned forward bracing her arms on the table. "I know you got upset with Dick for asking..."

You scoffed closing your book, "Babs. Please just drop it. I guarantee you that you're not going to like or find anything I tell you useful."

"I want to help you get the justice you deserve." Barbara reached a hand out to you. An olive branch. You almost reached back, almost told her everything but stopped yourself.

The devastation you felt at learning everything was a lie. That the person you trusted not only failed you but almost certainly betrayed you. It was destroying some integral in you. Could you do that to someone? Sure you had committed murder but Davis had deserved for taking part in your suffering. Plus you let him die with his world view intact. But Barbara?

"Would still wish to get me justice if you learn that someone important was involved?" This was your test for her. If she didn't hesitate or ask questions, than you'd tell her. If she showed you she was sure she wanted to go down that road than you'd tell her.

Barbara blinked at question. Eyebrows throughing, she opened her mouth than closed it. You deflated when she asked the last thing you wanted to hear, "What do you mean?"

"Nevermind..." You grabbed your book. It was funny to you in a way that the book you were reading was about a girl discovering her world was lie while you lived through it.

Barbara grabbed your hand. There was desperation in her tone, "(Name), please tell me. I want to help you in anyway I can."

"I don't know their names, just faces." You pulled your hand from hers. This was not going to end well. It was only necessary to punish the guilty, not the innocent. Not Barbara, especially if she was telling the truth.

But what if this was a lie? Your chest tied itself up into knots. Was this another misstep that would tip Bruce off to you knowing he was involved. If Barbara told him, or worse was involved in what happened. Shit, what were you going to do?

She grabbed your hand again refusing to let go, "I don't believe you. (Name) we're here for you, I know we let you down in the past but are we here and trying to do better. Please let us in, tell us what happened. Tell me who hurt you."

A tear slid down your face. Pure fear gripped your chest. This was a test not for her but for you. Did he know about Davis? Had killing the accountant been a mistake? You took a few deep breaths, "Barbara, please just let it go. It's not worth investigating."

"It is. You're worth investigating for."

"No, I'm not." You pulled your wrist from hers. The hollow feeling in your chest was coming back. You needed to get out of the manor, at least for a little bit. It wasn’t safe here. Turning you ran from the room.

You weren't a 100% sure where you go so long as it wasn’t there.

Tim stared at the tablet in his hands, still attempting to process the information from the Davis scene. It was a messy scene. The killer had seemingly playing the blood yet had left no finger print. Even the message on the wall didn't help identify the killer, they had it written with Davis's severed thumb. A truly demented move or a forensic counter measure. Sighing he lowered the tablet back down onto his dresser.

After adjusting his tie, Tim exited his room. Walking towards the dining room he was prepared for another sit down with (Name). What he wasn't prepared for was said girl running into him at full speed. Her hands were pressing into her chest and her breathing was frantic. Tim reached out grabbing her to keep her from tumbling to the floor.

She started to kick and claw at him. Tim held her at arm's length before pulling her in as close as he could. She was clearly have a panic attack of some kind. He focused most of the pressure of the hug on her upper chest where her hands had been digging into. She thrashed around for a bit before going limp in his arms. Tim looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in years.

She was slightly shorter than Damian. Yet she seem so much older than she was. No longer was the three year old girl that had stolen his mask. The confused and upset little girl was gone replaced with a haunted ten year old. Tim picked her up.

She was still limp and nonresponsive when Tim brought her to the living room. Setting her on the couch, he grabbed a weight blanket they had for Jason. Tim had always found her the hardest to communicate with. Out of all his siblings she was the one he knew the least about. Attempting to help her now just made that clear. It was concerning.

He was supposed to know almost everything about everyone. The genius prodigy who could tell you anything. Expect for where (Name) was concerned apparently. She really was one mystery after another. But Tim was good at solving mysteries.

"Hey, focus on my voice okay." He got her to look at him. Her stare was vacant and floated everywhere but his face. "Can you tell me five things you see around you?"

"There's..." She blinked, eyes searching the room. "Two cameras in this room, the model suggest that they have audio."

Tim blinked. She was right but those cameras were hidden. One in the bookcase by the TV and the other in the camera rod pointing towards the hallway. Her shaking didn't stop as hers eye moved between the cameras and door. "No hiding spots."

Tim stood up. First he moved the book camera so it was facing the opposite direction. She blinked mildly confused, Tim took that as a good sign. Than he turned the curtain rod so the camera was pointed to the ceiling. (Name) tilted her head to the side. Tim walk back to crouch infront her, "What are five things you can see?"

They ran through the grounding technique. At the end Tim had chosen to sit next to her. It was peacefully quiet say for the occasionally buzz of Tim's phone. He checked it to see some text messages from Barbara, Bruce, and Damian. Tim shook his head turning his buzzer off. (Name) was still shaking. Tim bit his lip, while watching, "Do you want talk about it?"

"No." She shrugged the weighted blanket off her body.

Tim nodded, "Okay. Bruce wants us to come to breakfast."

"Bruce is on business trip until Tuesday." She gave him a weird look.

Tim shook his head, "He came back early after Alfred called about you arriving suddenly. He wants to check that you're okay."

"I don't want to see him." (Name) turned away from him.

Tim blinked slowly. He remembered from before she disappeared that she had always want to see Bruce. On more occasions than he could count she had asked him give the man invites to open houses, art displays, science fairs, and school plays. She had always wanted her dad to be there. For that to have changed, something truly bad must of happened.

Maybe she didn't feel like she deserved to be near Bruce. Tim knew he struggled with that after Junior. It took time to mend his relationship with Bruce. Maybe that's what she needed, time. Tim could give her some time, "That’s okay, but we probably should still get something to eat."

"Right." She nodded at Tim hollowly. She bit her lip slightly, "did Jason come back to the manor last night?"

"No, not yet but I can message him and tell him you're asking about him." Tim pulled his phone out, ready to send the message.

"No, it's fine...I have to go the library today." She started to mess with her fingers looking towards the window. Tim patted her on the shoulder.

"I'll grab something from the kitchen and give you a ride to the library. Any requests?"

"Do we still have GoGurt?"

Jason shoved another piece of burned debris out of his way. Just as suspected the address the guards had given them was also torched. There were signs that the people involved had taken the lighter equipment. Sparking cords hung from the ceiling with old broken cameras. A few still had scalpels sticking out of them.

"Dude what are we doing here?" Roy Harper asked from behind Jason. After storming out of the manor, Jason made a few calls. The Outlaws now walked behind him in the destroyed building. Bizarro, Artemis, Kori, and Roy had all answered his call to track some people down for 'personal reasons'.

"Remember when I told I have a little sister." Jason said while kicking open a door. It opened to what the sources had called the Main Hall. There was rubble blocking the path to the rooms in the hallway. Evidence pointed towards them detonating a small bomb in the hall way. Her cell was located on the left hand side, the door hanging open. There were four other doors down the hallway. Jason only knew what one of them was, which was a locker room across from her cell.

"Me no remember" Bizarro called from behind him. There were sounds of confirmation from the others. It might have been words, Jason honestly didn't care.

"Turns out she wasn't at that boarding school in Shanghai like I had thought she was." He hated having to admit that but these guys would get it. He hoped. They knew how he almost visited her everytime they were China. Now he wished he hadn't stopped himself, hadn't let her go.

"Wait, wha... Oh shit.", Roy put the pieces together quickly. He began to look around the charred remains of the facility with horror. Out of all his friends, Jason figure would understand the most. "She was here wasn't she and not for good reasons."

Jason nodded to Roy assessment, "We think they were preforming experiments to try and create Meta Humans."

"Oh, The poor thing. What do you need us to do?" Kori started to move debris out of the way. Artemis began helping in moving rubble. They made a clearing to the rest of the doors.

Jason sighed shoving open the door to the locker room. All of the lockers were tumbled over. Most of them looked empty but Jason still pointed towards the room, "We're looking for anything that could be a clue as to who these bastards are."

"Misunderstood." Bizarro said with a nod. With that he headed into the locker room. Set the lockers upright, he checked inside for anything useful. Jason pointedly ignore the room Kori entered. He didn't want to see where they kept her.

"Hold up, I need a little more information than that Jace." Artemis grabbed Jason's arm. He grunted gesturing for Artemis to continue, "Were they successful in making a meta human?"

"Yes, she developed a regeneration ability." Jason started towards another room in the hallway. The layout matched what the two guards had told them. Even if the two didn't know what happened in the last three rooms they knew something important in happened in them. They had taken Jason's sister into two of them. The first door not far from her cell and the last door at the end of the hall. The other door next to locker room only the scientists had entered.

"How did she get out of here?" Roy followed close behind. It was a valid question to ask given the security this place had. Jason had counted 25 cameras and they had to get through three security doors to get here.

Jason shook his head, "She stole a bunch of scalpels, gouged a guy's eye out and stole his keys. Right before she killed a completely different guy while running like hell."

"Fuck, she is your sister." Roy breathed. Jason reached over and smacked him across the back of the head. Roy grabbed where he was hit, "Oww dude. What the fuck that was a compliment. You got a badass sis."

"She's the innocent one in this family." Jason sighed as he opened the door to the room they most often brought her to. It looked like a sterile operation room with a water pool in the left corner. There was a musty scent in the room from the still water. Various tools were throw about from knives, to whips, to guns. "She's not supposed to be fighting or going through stuff like this."

"Have there been anytime attempts to recapture her? Traffickers hardly like to let their 'product' go." Artemis words were phrased carefully. Jason blinked before moving towards the next room urgently.

Green was blurring his vision again. This wasn't good, "No. And it's been six days since she escaped."

"They don't wait that long, even for the 'problematic' ones. Something ain't adding up here." Roy joined Jason in the next room.

The room next to the locker room was the most torched. Scorched remains of papers covered the floor with a flipped over filing cabinet. There was also some sparking medical equipment and a computer. The two walked further in. Roy picked up a piece of half burned papers. He blinked as he read it before reading it again out loud, "Subject Origin's recovery rate appears to be two hours for a bullet chest wound after the removal of all shrapnel. All vital organs show signs of being fully healed and operational. Despite lossing brain activity for an hour and fourty five minutes, Subject Origin shows no signs of inversible damage. This is a good sign for Project Raphael. What is Project Raphael?"

"I don't know." Jason picked up another piece of charged paper. Roy moved closer to see the paper. "The operational for Project Raphael was a success, despite Doctor H and Doctor Q's walking out. Subject Origin is showing signs of recovery. New Subjects Alpha through Hotel are being prepared for transplant. Monitoring period of six months set to begin in secondary locations."

"That might explain why they haven't come for her." Roy pulled back rubbing the back of his neck.

Jason gave him a look, "Huh?"

"Yeah, thinking about like these guys. If whatever they're doing has already moved on to different subjects than having the Origin isn't necessary until you need more subjects. So why not just let her go until they know whether the first 'batch' is successful?" Roy shrugged hapzardly.

"Cause that would a massive security threat." Jason gestured to them simply being in the room. "She's already tipped off every vigilante in the area."

"That’s probably why they trashed the place." Roy kicked some of the paper causing it fly up. "There's probably not much to find here."

Jason growled. Roy had a point, they could nothing if they didn't know what they were even looking for. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the paper. "Just grab what you can. We might be able to find something important."

Roy sighed but began to pick up other pieces of paper that seem legible. Jason quickly sent the picture to Tim with a brief note to be ready. Roy held up a paper with only Subject Origin written on it, "Hey all of these refer to them doing some fuck up shit to Subject Origin."

"Just focus on grabbing the things, we'll worry about what they say later. I'll focus on recovering the computers hard drive." Jason was focused on taking deep breaths. If those paper were truly talking about (Name) that meant she had endured worst things than they were originally think. Barely injured his ass, they were shooting her just see how she would recover. Lossing brain activity meant she was medically dead for a whole hour. Green was starting to over take his vision. Doctors H and Q had some explaining to do when he found them.

The computer wouldn't turn on. Jason decided to just take the hard drive. It would be easier to recover information at the batcave anyways. Even if that meant go back to the manor. All he needed was a name or a picture. Something to point him in the right direction.

"Hey Jace, I think we got something." Artemis was calling from the hallway. He grabbed the hard drive before going to check out what they were talking about. Artemis held up a burned student ID for Gotham U's Medical school. "Bizarro found this in a locker. Can't read the Name or see the picture but we got the last 3 digits of a student number."

"Good, it will help us narrow the list down." Jason nodded looking around the place. Roy had been right. There really wasn't much to see that wasn't destroyed. Jason was willing to bet they wouldn't find any real names on the computers hard drive. That was assuming it wasn't wipe.

"I have found this in the sleeping quarters." Kori came out of the room holding a scalpel with dried blood and some decaying matter. Jason half laughed, she actually did gouge out a man's eye to escape. He wasn't sure if he was impressed or horrified. On one hand his sister could defend herself. On the other hand she should never had to do that in first place. Whatever Project Raphael was it had pushed her to a limit Jason never wanted her near again.

Jason got yanked out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing. Unlocking it he saw a text from Tim. "Drop off everything you got from that place at the Batcave. Also be at the library at 2pm, (Name) will be wrapping up there at that time. Pick her up."

Jason looked at the time 11am, they had three hours. "Let’s move."

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[gay-dorito-dust]

okay so y/n is secretly a god of keeping an eye on this gravity falls universe and is trying to protect the kids because she's seen how they died so many times and full on just breaks down in front of Stan and ford telling them

Ngl this was kinda shit

You don’t know how much more you could take of having beer witnessed to so many timelines where the twins died far too young.

You didn’t know how much more of their suffering you were forced to watch on the sidelines while being reminded by beings of a power far greater than yours that there was to be no divine intervention. None whatsoever as it was a taboo amongst gods and was punishable by having the elder gods remove your immortality and take away any and all divine powers from you.

You didn’t care about the consequences of your own actions when you fled from your home in hopes of helping Dipper and Mabel survive one timeline, to grow older and live long happy lives unlike their alternate selves that you couldn’t save. You were sick and tired of seeing the same end result for the Pine twins timeline after timeline after timeline. This time it was going to be different, and you were going to make sure of it as you watched through the bark of trees as they ventured off on their next monster of the week, always coming back to the shack unscathed.

‘Hey great aunt/ grunkle y/n!’ They’d both greet you with wide smiles despite their messy appearances.

‘You two looked like you had some fun today. Find anything investing to share?’ You’d ask them but you already knew the answer. You had used your power to ward off the sneaky pack of Direwolves from mauling the kids and grant them a quick escape, a victory unfortunately not shared by their alternate selves, who never came back from the encounter. You still remembered the pained screams as they were deeply etched into your subconscious, keeping you awake at night.

The twins shared a look as thought debating whether or not to tell you, only to mentally agree on the later as they both looked back at you and said in unison; ‘nope! Just some scrapes and cuts, nothing interesting at all!’ Before they left to go to their room. As soon as they left the smile of your face faltered as you let out an uneven sigh, your hands covering your eyes as you softly wept into them, not understanding how cruel life must be to condemn the sweetest and bravest children you knew to countless deaths with each one being worse then the last.

You didn’t care that you’d be punished for your actions, you didn’t care that you’d be ridiculed and berated by the elder gods for being too human for a god, but you would much rather risk it all if it meant that all your effort and energy would bring forth a timeline where the twins emerged victorious; They deserved as much.

‘I can’t let it happen again.’ You whispered to yourself.

You must’ve been too occupied by the turmoil inside your own head that you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps came towards you, nor noticed that whoever was walking towards you had now sat themselves on either side of you until a hand was placed on your shoulder were you finally drawn back to reality.

‘Are you okay? Dipper and Mabel said they could hear you sobbing.’ Ford said and you saw that both he and Stan had come to check on you.

‘I can’t.’ You muttered.

‘Can’t what?’ Stan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘I can’t watch them die again, not this time.’ You said as you wiped your eyes clean of tears. ‘I’ve watched enough of the same story come to violent and unfair endings and got told that’s just how the way things are.’

Ford and Stan shared a look, not knowing the best course of action to take in order to comfort you when you were talking in vague and ominous riddles. So Ford gently moved you so that you were looking at him directly, ‘what do you mean by that? Who’s them?’ You breathed in deeply as you mustered up the strength to tell Ford and Stan a truth you’ve been keeping to yourself in order to keep them all safe, but the Pines Family were a curious bunch and couldn’t help but be drawn to things they shouldn’t, while also having strange things be drawn to them in vice versa.

‘I haven’t been all that truthful about who I am and I only did so for a good reason, to keep you all safe.’ You said as you held onto Ford’s arms while looking between him and Stan, ‘I’m a deity who came here to Gravity Falls after bearing witness to multiple timelines where Dipper and Mabel don’t make it out alive from their encounters with the anomalies of this very town. I’ve risked everything to be here, even my own powers and immortality to keeping these kids safe in hopes of seeing the fruits of my labour be proven fruitful.’ You continued your admittance as you saw the conflicting emotions cut across their faces the more you spoke of your true origin.

‘What do you mean that dipper and Mabel die in each timeline you’ve seen?’ Stan then asked, his face set in agitation, ‘you’re a god aren’t you? Couldn’t you just have intervened and save them regardless? I thought you gods were meant to be omnipotent or whatever?’

‘That’s not how it works, is it.’ Ford said as he was slowly putting the pieces together while his thumbs caressed your shoulders reassuringly.

‘No.’ You said softly as a new wave of tears started to cascade down your cheeks. ‘The elder gods decreed long ago to forbid divine intervention of all kinds. They claim that there was nothing that can be done to change what has already been foreseen, but I couldn’t do it.’ You whimpered as you looked at Stan. ‘I just couldn’t when I knew that I could at least change one timeline, just one. Im sorry.’ You finished as Stan and Ford felt their hearts hurt for you, a god who was going against their entire way of life to keeping their grand niece and nephew safe, all the while feeling immense guilt consumed you from the inside out over the other realities.

Stan then moved so that he was just as in your line of sight as Ford was and began to wipe away some of your tears with his thumb. ‘I guess that explains all those times I’ve seen you silently stare out into the woods.’ He began jokingly as everything leading up to now started to make sense, how you’d always put yourself between the children and any potential danger or how you’d watch over them like a hawk and making sure they were in your line of sight no matter what as though afraid that something terrible would happen if they weren’t. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for them sweetheart, but it’s time you took care of yourself just as well.’ Stan then adds as he and Ford escorted you back into the shack, much to your confusion as you looked between them.

‘I cant! I have to make sure-‘

‘The twins are fast asleep in their beds y/n. They’re safe, you have done enough for today. Now if it time for you to rest.’ Ford gently reprimanded you as you suddenly began to feel the weight of fatigue that you had been putting off for several days now.

‘Yeah don’t go worrying yourself so much, or else you’ll get grey hairs like me and point Dexter over here. Let us take over once in a while okay honey?’ Stan says as he and Ford tried to get your mind off of your mission when they both saw just how much you’ve run yourself into the ground, how reluctant you were to relinquishing control and allowing yourself to rest up from the countless days of no sleep nor sustenance. They were pretty sure you hadn’t looked at yourself in a mirror to know just how badly you looked, nor the haunted you seem to get in your eyes now and then as though you were recalling traumatic events.

‘But-‘

‘Nope.’ Stan interrupted.

‘Can’t I just-‘

‘I’m afraid we can’t let you do that. God or not, you need rest. We’ll keep the kids safe in your stead.’ Ford cuts you off this time as he and Stan managed to wrangle you into bed after a brief struggle where you realised just how badly your limbs ached snd screamed with a desire to rest or how your eyelids felt heavier then lead.

‘Promise?’ You asked them sleepily.

Stan pressed a soft kiss to your forehead while Ford squeezed your hand reassuringly. ‘We promise, you’ve done your part so please, let us do ours.’

[a-shade-of-blue]

I’ve been messaging with Mohammed (@ahmed0khalil)  and he told me they feel as if this world has abandoned them. Every night his 6-year-old brother Ahmed asks him “Will we become numbers? Will we be just a number that appears on the TV screen in the evening?” Mohammed has no answer to that question. He has seen people being blown into pieces, he has witnessed no fewer than 6 massacres during his displacement. He wants to help, but knows he would be killed if he does. How does anyone fight against bombs that drop without warning? Mohammed lives in fear that he will fail to save his family. He had thought of killing himself, but he knows that his family, his younger siblings, need him. So he keeps on fighting daily, standing in line for 10 hours just to get bread for his family, begging for our attention on Tumblr to try to raise funds for his family’s evacuation. Mohammed is only 19 years old. 

He tells me that the Internet is often bad and they are often cut off from the world. Sometimes when massacres occur and people are bleeding out around them, they cannot even call the ambulance because there is no connection. He describes to me how he would sometimes see ambulances moving under heavy shelling, his helplessness in not knowing if it will come towards them, if the bombs will hit the ambulance. He tells me a lot of his friends who worked in the emergency department had been murdered under attacks against medical personnel. He fears that he will be killed, he fears for the lives of his family.

Mohammed is only 19 but he has lived through more than 8 wars. When he was 9, his house was bombed when they were inside it. He was a small child then and he was so scared and he could not breathe. They managed to escape, but soon after the whole area where their house was located was blown up. 

Mohammed is only 19, how much more must he bear? How much more must his 6-year-old brother Ahmed bear? Another question: what were you doing when you were 19? Were you at school, preparing for uni, hanging out with friends, getting your first job? At 19 Mohammed is trying to survive a genocide, he is witnessing massacre after massacre, dead bodies after dead bodies, trying to raise funds so his family can survive, trying to convince his younger siblings that they will live to see another day. He is telling me piece after piece of his suffering under an unstable connection, and here I’m writing and thinking how can I get your attention, how can I convince you that he and his siblings and his family deserve to live? 

Mohammed’s campaign has been shared by 90-ghost and I’ve also been talking extensively with him. He has 5 siblings, including a brother who is blind, another who is severely autistic, and young 6-year-old Ahmed. How much more must they suffer? How many more massacres must they live through? 

Low Funds! Only €1,685 raised of €50,000 goal!!

Donations have been coming in slowly for Mohammed's campaign. Your donation will help a family of 8 people reach safety. Please don't turn a blind eye to these children calling out for your help! Please share and reblog, and please, please donate if you can!

[maxivstappen]

THE GREATEST — TRUE BLUE

[ part one / masterlist / requests are open ]

☽｡⋆ part 2 of THE GREATEST. he tried to live without you, but how is one to survive with a broken heart? a story based on TRUE BLUE by billie eilish. — lando norris x fem!reader (could technically be read as a stand-alone)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 angst, hurt & comfort, hints of fluff (?) 𝄞 4.1k words

❝ Lights out, you’re not here holding me ❞

Lando had never before felt the way he did the day you left him. Seeing you walk through that door, intending to never come back to him ever again, it pained him. It took him too long to realize how much he hurt you, and now he had to suffer the consequences. He swore it wasn’t on purpose, but when his friends told him that also the third girl he had brought along since you broke up with him resembled you in a way, he stopped denying. There was no use. The guys knew, the internet knew, he knew that he wasn’t yet over you. And he thinks he never will be. You left an empty place in his heart, a place that would forever be reserved for you only and you only. No matter how hard he tried to find someone else, no one would ever be able to replace you.

The girl he brought to the first race after the summer break was long forgotten already.

At first, everyone around him believed him when he said he felt happier now without you. But the moment he went back to his old ways, the heartbreaker they’ve known for so long, they realized he wasn’t. The girls always looked like you. He only rarely smiled anymore and he couldn‘t care less about his friends‘ relationships, even going as far as faking a gag or simply not coming to hang out with them at all. He said it’s because he needs to focus on racing. They knew it was because of you. Lando was yet to tell them why the relationship ended. He’d rather crash his car and DNF in every race for the rest of his life than to ever have to talk about the night you left ever again. He felt embarrassed and bad and was so terribly regretful. Only his parents knew the whole truth. He told them with tears caressing his face just like you once did, and seeing the disappointment in their eyes, he felt his heart rip apart even more. They had loved you so much, only waiting for the day he would finally go down on one knee for you, and now he messed it all up.

If he could just go back and make it all alright. Make you feel unconditionally loved wherever you went, make you happy, keep you happy. He would change it all if he just had the chance, but he knew you deserved better. Maybe one day, he could be better again.

He is ready to give up the very thing for you that had made you leave him that night if you’d ask him to. Racing would never again mean as much to him as you, though broken up, still do to him.

He was currently seated in his McLaren, waiting for the lights to go out so he could try his very best to overtake max at the start already. He should have his mind on the track. He shouldn’t think about you, not here. But like always, he couldn’t help it. He hoped to see you in the stands once he was able to get out of the car again. He hoped to see you wave and smile at him, run into his arms and let him kiss you all over, do all the things he had failed to do so many months ago. He knew it wouldn’t happen. He believed anyway. The lights went out and the cars began moving. He tried his best, he always did, but he wasn‘t afraid to lose anymore; for what was it worth to win a race when he had faced the greatest loss of them all already?

❝ I count every tear down my cheek instead of sheep ❞

You couldn’t sleep. You could never sleep while he was racing. Especially when he was on the other side of the world, which is why you went with him last season, and also at the start of this one. Maybe you never should’ve. Long distance was hard, but you managed. He felt farther away when he was still sleeping next you every night. At least when he didn’t send you off to sleep on the couch.

You tossed and turned in your sleep, but you didn’t dare to turn on the TV. It’s been months, you should try to live without him. Without seeing him. Without feeling for him. His races had nothing to do with you, neither did the outcome. And god, if he wins and you have to watch him kiss someone else again you might as well just take his racing car and drive right into the nearest wall. He’s so far away and yet, it didn’t make you love him any less. You huffed, fear slowly building up inside of you. You knew you shouldn’t do this, you had to wake up early tomorrow and really, it wouldn’t be that bad to miss a race once or twice, but you couldn’t help it. Reaching for the remote, your eyes were flooded with tears and your heart stung like never before when you saw him driving out there. You were rooting for him nonetheless. Just months ago you had watched the races from inside the McLaren hospitality, but now? All alone in your bed, anxiously following his every move. You would never fall asleep like this.

❝ Sleepwalk, find myself on your street. Three knocks, ring the bell, then I leave ❞

And there you stood high up in the stands the next weekend, head hanging low as you didn‘t want any fans of him recognizing you, back in his territory. You tried to ignore him, you really did, but your eyes kept following him around the paddock and didn’t leave him even while he was doing the quick interviews he had to do on his way there. And honestly, it kinda felt like home. Attending the races. Being near him. Being with him. You missed it more than anything else in the world, and you felt pathetic for it. He hurt you every way he could, and still, he didn’t hurt you enough to make you hate him. And you really wanted to hate him.

You went to the race together with one of your friends from uni. You bonded over formula 1 and your shared passion for the sport and quickly became very good friends. However, she had to leave soon, moving to another city for a better starting point for her career. Hence, you decided to save some money and go to a race together for the last time; for now, at least. You still remember the way she looked at you when you told her you were with Lando. The way you swooned over him to her, and the way you cried your eyes out when it all ended. You really thought you‘d be able to spend the rest of your life with him, and now all you had left of him were memories. She‘s known you long enough to immediately notice your longing after him the moment your eyes locked onto his dark brown curls. Your heart fluttered and it made you nauseous. One day this would stop, right? Your feeling must fade at least sometime, or was this all just wishful thinking? Could you not just get over him like everyone else got over their exes and start dating someone new?

Your heart ached. He was so close, not out of reach anymore, not on the other side of the world anymore, but still, there was no way of getting back to him, the crash barriers and the grandstand keeping you away, and it felt like the end of your relationship all over again, with him on the track and you sitting and waiting patiently on the sidelines, always at least an arm length distance between you two. You shouldn’t even want to get him back. You left out a sigh as he walked into the McLaren hospitality, finally out of sight. But still not out of mind.

Your friend huffed next to you, and finally decided to try and convince you to talk to him after the race while you were still in the same place, to get closure at last. You knew it must annoy your friends and maybe even your family that it was so hard for you to just move on. They put effort into understanding, but still, Lando wasn‘t good to you, at least not in the end. Many would treat you better, but you didn‘t seem to care. You quickly shook your head no, telling her how he probably didn’t want to talk to you and that catching him after the race would be nearly impossible, with bodyguards and tons and tons of interviewers and cameras around him.

The conversation ended soon after, as the lights went out and the drivers hit the gas. You pondered for a second, reconsidering your friend‘s suggestion, a weird feeling building up in your stomach. Maybe you shouldn’t even be here, maybe you should *leave* after the race and never look back. But to your dismay, every sense in your body was telling you to stay.

❝ I try to live in black and white but I’m so blue ❞

The race went well, but he didn‘t really care. Of course he was happy, the whole team was euphoric for their two drivers who secured place 2 and 4, huge smiles plastered on their faces. Once he was done with the post-race interviews he left to go back and get some rest inside his apartment, at least until the others came around to drag him to the afterparty, slandering from one club into the next one.

Everything felt so lonely without you. His bed was cold even when he was hidden under his blanket, and the dining room was nothing more than a reminder that he wasn‘t spending his evenings with you. Watching TV got boring. Everything got boring. He didn’t even know why he lost you anymore, he didn’t know what the hell it was that made him believe you weren’t made for him, making him believe there was actually something more important than you in this lifetime. You haunted his every thought, and even though he truly only wanted the best for you, deep inside him, he wanted you to still need him as well.

He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, gently buttoning up his shirt like you used to do, always leaving the 3 highest ones unbuttoned. He missed your touch, your eyes looking up at him and your hands always reaching for his. His arms would be wrapped around your waist and his head would be leaning on your shoulder, sneaking a few, small kisses up your neck as you changed your earrings for the night, the imagine of it painted onto your fast beating heart as you stood in front of the full-body mirror in your apartment, finishing up your accessoires. You wore a blue dress that covered your thighs, not reaching your knees. It hugged you in all the right places, accentuating your features. It used to be Lando‘s favourite, but you had no other alternative, not having brought any other dresses. Your friend insisted on going clubbing anyway, desperately wanting to finally get him off your mind for one night at least.

The other drivers were loud and happy and drunk and Lando sat next to them, staring at his already empty glass. He knew how this would go. At some point, either the drivers or one of their girls would tap his shoulder, saying they have a friend they think he would really like, and if he would like to be introduced to her. He would agree so they would finally keep their mouths shut, he would talk to the girl. Maybe they would kiss if he drank enough. Maybe he would take her home. Maybe he would think about you the whole time, maybe he would accidentally call her your name. Maybe he would wake up in the morning and would be happy that she‘d left, content with it only being a one-time thing and not meaning anything.

Because, in the end, nothing meant anything without you.

He pretended to laugh at the jokes of his friends, but really, none of this was fun to him. These nights were nothing more than a constant reminder of how he used to have his fun while you were waiting for him at home, cold and sad and alone. How could he be so stupid and leave you alone all the time? He doesn’t even know why he did it anymore. He yawned, very obviously not enjoying the party. Yes, it was nice seeing his friends so happy, the mood wasn’t as tense as it was around and on the track and the people inside the night club were vivid, dancing and drinking, seemingly having the time of their life downing countless beverages, but still, the happiness didn’t reach him.

“Dude, I think your girl‘s here.“ Oscar pushed him slightly, two vodka bull in hand for himself and Lily. Lando didn’t pay him any mind and rolled his eyes, not really in the mood for talking to any girl that isn’t you at the moment. Couldn’t they just give up? He wasn’t ready yet for someone else, he didn’t even know if he wanted to be with someone that isn’t you at all. Ever. Instead of arguing with Oscar about how he didn’t want to hear from any other girl right now, he went to get another drink as well.

He pushed through the dense crowd of people, navigating through the cacophony of laughter and piercing yelling that seemed to echo from all directions. The deafening loud music blasting through his ears made it difficult to focus, and the harsh sound of glass clunking together only added to it. The colorful LED lights rapidly switched from green to red to purple to yellow in a matter of seconds, creating a dizzying light show that overwhelmed his vision. This sensory onslaught of sounds, sights, and sensations overstimulated his senses, making each step forward feel like an effort.

Finally at his destination, he waited for the waiter or waitress, he wasn’t quite sure, to get his order. He wasn’t certain what his plan was that night at all. Sleeping around or not, you wouldn’t stop haunting his mind anyway, so was it really worth it? Getting drunk and trying to make his nights feel less lonesome? Or should he just wait and really focus on his carrer again until maybe, one day, you’d come back?

He ignored the possibilty of you not coming back at all.

He let his eyes wander around the scene unfolding in front of him, occasionally making eye contact with random girls who winked at him and tried to get his attention, but he didn’t pay them any mind. Frustration started to bubble up inside of him as the wait for his drink seemed to go on for forever, until suddenly, his heart skipped a beat.

Lando was certain that in a room full of people, he would always be able to notice you first. He pondered if it was you whenever he‘d walk by a girl with the same hair colour as you, immediately dismissing the thought when he saw a face that didn’t match yours just a second later. But this time, it was different. The hair ressembled yours without a doubt, and of course he remembered the dress he had bought for you so long ago; never once had he been able to keep his hands to himself when you wore it. The height matched you perfectly as well. But it couldn’t be you, right?

Oscar‘s words replayed in his mind and he finally understood what he meant. Who he meant.

It was really you.

You tried to enjoy the party, but you really weren’t doing so well. Your friend had left you near the bar, thinking you’d be hitting it off with a guy you’ve been talking to for some time, but that wasn’t the case. he left just five minutes after to go home, asking if you’d like to come with him. You denied, but your friend was nowhere to be found, having found someone in this club herself. It was scary being alone in a club full of drunk, intoxicated people, even more so when you sensed someone staring at you from behind. You didn’t have to worry about things like that when you were still with Lando, with him always stuck to your side, a protective arm hanging around your shoulders. you shuddered at the thought, and dared to turn around to find the very person who was looking at you so steadily.

And then you locked eyes.

The world suddenly went quiet. All the chaos, the noise, it all faded into the background, no sound to be heard other than the synchronised, rapid beating of your heart. It seemed as if the only two people in that room were you and him, only the void surrounding the two of you. The LEDs turned blue, engulfing you and him, the light accentuating your features and he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, stuck in a trance of what this could mean for him in the future; what this could mean for you both. Time seemed to stand still. He wanted to run to you, to hold you, to tell you how much he missed you, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. His breath hitched and so did yours, all the yearning, all the longing hitting you and him at lightspeed.

You walked towards him, each step filled with electricity. The tension was palpable, his mouth agape as you stood in front of him, only centimeters away from closing the gap between you. There was so much he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to apologize, so many things he wanted to make right, but he didn‘t dare to say things first, afraid too scare you off. The last thing he wanted is for you to leave him again.

“I didn‘t know you‘d be here, thought I‘d seen Oscar but I wasn‘t sure,“ you started, stumbling over your own words, laughing awkwardly, then biting your lip right after. He noticed, because you always did that when you were nervous; you’d done it too when you broke up with him. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but that would be a lie, one he could look right through of. You just couldn‘t process actually being in his presence again.

“You still wear the dress?“

“It‘s, uhm, quite pretty, so yeah.“ You nodded along to your own words, gulping at the tense and awkward silence right after, looking down at your shoes, the sight of him in this light still not leaving your mind. Maybe he didn‘t even feel the same way, maybe he didn‘t even want to talk to you. Maybe you already made a fool of yourself when you made your way over to him, maybe you really should‘ve just stayed at home. But at the same time, this is what you‘d hoped for this whole time. To finally see him again.

“I‘m so sorry for what I did to you, y/n, please believe me. E-Ever since you left, I couldn‘t stop thinking about you. Not once. I tried to move on, y‘know, would probably be better for you as well, ‘cause you deserve better than how I‘ve treated you at the end and I don‘t want to have to put you through that again but I just- I miss you so much, I don‘t know what to do! And now you‘re here and I swear I‘ve been waiting for a moment like this and-,“ he stopped for a second, heavy and shaky breaths filling the silence, „If giving up racing means you‘ll let me come back to you, I‘ll do it.“

Your teary eyes widened and you looked up at him again, staring into his. One could take it as an empty promise. But you knew better than anyone else that Lando wasn’t one to joke about racing, ever. “Lando you can’t just- I- I mean, racing? It didn‘t work before Lan I just- don‘t give up your dreams for me, please? You shouldn‘t, you have so much ahead of you still,“ you sighed out, every single part of your body overwhelmed like never before.

But Lando was certain. He traced every yet so small feature of your face and body with his eyes, and he knew in that exact moment that, no matter what, he could never lose you again. Not this time. Not when fate hat somehow brought you together once again, giving him a second chance to make it all better. Question was now if you’d let him have that second chance too.

He lifted his hand to gently wipe away the tear running down your cheek, having you lean into his familiar touch. “I’ll do it for you”, he said, and that was when you broke apart, legs feeling numb and wobbly suddenly. Tears streamed down your face as you took another step forward and he wrapped his arms around your body out of reflex, gently placing soft kisses on top of your head, tearing up as well as your cried into his chest.

Maybe it was bad, maybe you shouldn’t feel like this again, but you’ve never once after the breakup felt as at peace with yourself and your as you did now, even if you were in a loud and busy club, surrounded by drunk and high people. You managed to push them to the back of your mind, the familiar scent of Lando’s perfume calming your senses. It felt like home. Maybe he really did owe you something, and though you once were anguished because of it, you wouldn’t ever deprive him of the joy of racing. There would be a way through it without having to abandon any of your or his dreams. There must be if you want it to work out, and you were sure that this time, it would. And so was he.

Lando took you home with him that night, not before you shot your friend a quick text message, afraid she might think you were kidnapped or whatnot. You knew that you’d have to fly home again in two days. He knew that too, but there was no need to rush things anyway. You were still his and he was still yours, and that’s all that mattered for now. It’s gonna be weird explaining this to your friends and your family, but neither of you minded it as long as it meant you could be with each other again. You would have to talk things through and see how you’d manage the race weekends and the events and the media - but not now. Now, with you calmly and lightly snoring in his arms, he didn’t care about any of that, simply content with having you again.

He promised you before you drifted off into your tranquil slumber that he will make it right this time. He will be there for you no matter what, he will defend you and take you with him and show you off and love you like already should have done all these months ago. This time, he will put in the work and the appreciation and the effort, and then, you will finally be able to be the greatest.

❝ I’d like to mean it when I say I’m over you, but that’s still not true. ❞

taglist for part 2 of the greatest : @mrs-saturday @tylerstacobell @angeltroian @acesbakery @directioner5life @malynn @escuellasceramicdollie @strangetoadroadbat @norrisdriver @aliceisnuts @carlando4 @f1fantasys @no-144444 @belivisa @callsignwidow @cruzgrecia @ifsoniacouldfly @wony6ung @hurtblossom @faeriepigeons @interlagos @xnatqq @fanficweasley @youreintheclubb @chaimaarouaine11 @idgasb @cruzgrecia @madstxo @trisharee (basically everyone who commented vv sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!)

[insaeculaseaculorum]

"Mohg's not innocent he runs a murder cult and kills people"... NO. Imagine your mother the God was racist against you, and made the world racist against you too. Imagine your father a glorious Elden Lord failed to do anything about it. Imagine you were locked away in the literal sewers since birth, you grew up eating shit and mice and snails full of piss that your blood was so poisoned that you coughed up balls of shit. Imagine they made baby shackles for you that pinned you down and grew with your body so that they could hopefully confine you for eternity. Imagine you were in pain day and night because your deformity grew under your skin into your bones pierced your eye drilled into your skull. Imagine despite all above you were considered super lucky among your peers because at least they didn't remove your body parts before dumping you here. Imagine even if you were freed from the prison anyone could hunt you down and torture you with no repercussions. Imagine the whole world knew but did absolutely nothing about it. Imagine your brothers and sisters were worshiped and loved because they were deemed a better race and they said "why couldn't you be more like them". Imagine there would never be justice for you, as your whole existence was a punishable crime. Imagine there would never be relief for you, as you couldn't even just die to escape this hell.

Really, imagine it was you who had been through all of this, and you tell me you still feel so righteous judging him for "not being innocent". You know those comic book villains who are like "I've suffered so much I lost my loved ones I want revenge and destroy earth and everyone on it". That should have been Mohg. He should have wanted to literally burn every single atom down across these filthy lands and they would have deserved it. But he didn't. Not only that he and his omen twin brother even sealed off the frenzied flame that actually had the ability to do so. Be grateful he is only running a murder cult and spilling some blood here and there. He is a fucking Saint for after all that he still wants to establish something instead of bringing down vengeance on every living soul. GIVE HIM A FUCKING BREAK.

"Ansbach was so biased" well the whole society in the lands between was biased against omens but did you ever hold Gideon the butcher of whole albinauric village's speculation about Mohg to the same standards? SIR Ansbach was a fucking hero for having sided with him.

[jenscx]

LUCID DREAM — ning yizhuo

it’s been years without ning yizhuo in your life. it feels surreal; the day you walked out without an explanation. but just the thought of being able to see her again, it draws you back into the endless loop of loving her.

TAGS — angst, exes to ???, insecurity, model!ning, ambiguous ending, mentions of alcohol, making up, jmj wedding (we don’t actually get to witness it tho)

WORDCOUNT — 7.4k

you stare at the wedding invitation, written neatly at the top, the invitation is addressed to a ning y/n. you want to cry. the invitation clearly stating your ex’s name makes your heart clench uncomfortably. it’s a blaring reminder that your relationship ended and you’re no longer living in your childhood fantasy.

“fuck,” you swear, “fuck you, kim minjeong.” you want to murder minjeong, but who were you to ask minjeong to stop reminding you of your bitter ending? especially since it was your own impulsiveness that had ended the relationship. you could have been more understanding towards yizhuo, could have tried her best to resolve your conflict, but no. instead, you ran. ran like the coward you were.

you remember the brokenhearted look on yizhuo’s face, the devastated glimmer in her eyes before she had flipped her expression to another, like a switch. or more like a broken one, your brain offers unhelpfully. of course, the quiver of her lips had given yizhuo away almost immediately. you had known yizhuo for a third of your life, obviously you could tell when your soulmate– or in this case, ex, was about to break down.

you wish you had stayed, and simply comforted your soulmate like old times, but you couldn’t bear to watch yizhuo cry, because of you. you remember the look on your friends’ faces when you told them that you broke up with yizhuo, all the words they had yelled at her for betraying yizhuo. you remember the anger directed at you by yizhuo’s parents when you had sent them an apology letter. through the post, yizhuo had told you, letters felt more sincere than emails.

but perhaps the worst reaction wasn’t from any of them, it was simply from your own cat. meowing viciously when you had picked him up, bringing him together with you. the scratches lining your arms only serve as a constant reminder. mao, your british short haired, was desperately attached to yizhuo (and she was the one who named him too. what absolute luck.) his hostility could only be reasoned that he knew his owner had hurt yizhuo. if a silly little cat knew the extent of the breakup, what could that mean for you?

“wallowing in your grief again? that’s not good for you,” you peer up at chaewon, the only friend that somehow wasn’t connected to yizhuo. chaewon takes a quick glance at the invitation and giggles, “you’re going? i hope you survive, you haven’t paid this month’s rent yet.”

you merely sigh.

“the place’s gonna be filled with people who hate my guts, you really think i’m going? minjeong probably only sent this to piss me off.”

chaewon frowns, “you don’t seem pissed off, just sad. honey, you have to let me know if they’re bothering you, like actually. it’s not your fault, well– maybe it is, but you’re suffering too. it isn’t nice for them to do this to you.” you shrug in response. you deserve it. you deserve every stab in your heart, you deserve the tears that escape in the middle of the night.

“let’s drink tonight, okay? we’ll put on titanic or something and cry about life while eating ice cream,” chaewon offers. maybe it’s the thought of getting drunk, or titanic, or crying in your friend’s arms, but the offer is appealing and you find yourself agreeing too soon.

you can hear chaewon do a silent cheer. it makes you smile slightly and gives you enough energy to pull yourself up from the floor.

“i’ll go get the soju, just lie on the couch and relax!” you follow as your friend says and lie on the sofa you had picked out together after mao’s claws had sunk into the leather, ripping it to shreds. the cat was a brat.

doesn’t this remind you of something– or someone? the voice in your head quips. you groan, why couldn’t your head shut up sometimes? your heart drops as you recall the conversation between your parents when you had told them you broke things off with yizhuo. you remember your mother’s expression; disappointed and upset, a stark contrast to when you had told her that you finally found someone. the proud look on your father’s when you introduced yizhuo to them, god, why the fuck was yizhuo such an amazing girlfriend?

you caused this. you want to scream ‘no’. you’re the one who dumped yizhuo. who are you to be upset over thi–

“y/n? hey, stop thinking about it,” chaewon pouts, “don’t make yourself even more sad!” you blink back into reality and at the sight of chaewon puffing her cheeks out, holding two bottles of soju and a large bowl of popcorn, make you want to coo at the girl. you push the thoughts of yizhuo to the back of your head as soon as the opening to titanic appears on the screen.

you two laugh sometimes, mostly chaewon, but it’s quiet throughout the movie and you can’t tell whether you’d rather have chaewon’s comments about how cute the actors are or the silence that allows you to delve deeper into your thoughts. you take a sip whenever chaewon mentions how in love jack and rose are.

when you blink, it’s already at the part where jack allows rose to get onto the wooden door, while he stays in the freezing water. chaewon throws popcorn at the tv, apparently already drunk, screaming at rose to quote, “fucking move her ass,” for jack to get on. you take a large gulp of soju in the midst of chaewon’s sniffles.

“y/n…i can’t believe it… she just let jack die!” chaewon cries out, “the love of her life, she just let him go! how could she just let him die?!” you nod, trying to drink the already empty bottle of soju.

when you stand up, the whole room swirls and you stumble back onto the couch. “don’t let her go, y/n!” you jump at the close proximity of chaewon’s voice, “don’t let the love of your life go!”

you hum in agreement and scream, “i won’t let her go!” determined, you pick up your phone and the selfie of you and yizhuo greets her. you miss her, don’t you? of course not. you don’t miss her at all. change your homescreen then. you wouldn’t.

you roll your eyes and enter kakaotalk.

y/n [11.38pm]:

i kiss you

i miss you*

read [11.39pm]

“i did it, chaewon!” you exclaim, “i didn’t let her go!”

drunk you is apparently an idiot, since we all know, if a ‘i love you’ can’t solve a crack, obviously a ‘i miss you’ wouldn’t be able to solve an earthquake.

i miss you too. i miss you so much it hurts. but how could you say that, when you’re the one that left me first? yizhuo doesn’t cry as much anymore. she doesn’t sob into her pillow in the middle of the night anymore. the couple posts that appear on her instagram feed doesn’t make tears well up in her eyes anymore.

it still hurts. hurts as much as it did before. and yizhuo might just have to live with that pain everyday. the misspelt word makes her heart throb, in affection and pain, because she could imagine your voice in her head. are you hurting as much as she is? it doesn’t make the stabbing pain in her chest any better to know that the one she loves is suffering.

yizhuo stares at the glaring light from her phone. i miss you. really y/n? she wants to scoff. you were probably drunk out of your mind and sent that text on a whim. or maybe it was meant for another girl. the thought makes yizhuo want to cry.

is there someone else you call ‘baby' now?

fuck, you think, oh fuck. the read blaring on your phone, as if mocking you.

“shit,” chaewon groans, holding her head, “what happened last night? did we accidentally kill someone?” you wish you did. you take a deep breath, and scream. if the neighbours show up the next moment, it’s totally because of the night before, and not your scream at 8 in the morning.

you calm down. eventually. you calm down after chaewon grabs your shoulders and wiggles you back and forth, yelling for you to get your shit together. it only worsens the raging headache the both of you have. if rent wasn’t so high nowadays, you would have immediately fled and lived alone. kim chaewon with a hangover was not a good sight.

“whatever! you drunk texted your ex! whatever! hashtag yolo right— ah fuck, the room is spinning,” chaewon shrieks, “ugh, why did we drink so much?! but! your life isn’t over! so what if you texted her? it’s okay, we stay delusional and pretend things never happened!”

despite the wacky talk chaewon gives, it actually helps. texting yizhuo, while drunk, was a mistake. you nod hastily, “i get what you’re saying, but please let me go.”

chaewon loosens her grip, pursed lips as she huffs, “the most badass thing you can do now is go to the wedding.”

your eyes widen, “what the hell? kim chaewon, are you crazy? no, you’re insane.”

your roommate only grins lazily, “it came with a plus one invite, right? i’ll go with you. it’ll be okay! and don’t you wanna see your friends again?”

“i do, but most of them hate my guts,” you wince, recalling the angry messages left by aeri and minjeong, none from jimin, that probably speaks for itself what she thought of you, “they were yizhuo’s friends first, and mine second. when it comes to things like this, they would, rightfully so, take yizhuo’s side.”

chaewon whistles, “yeah it’s not looking too good for you right now.”

you flop onto the couch, sighing, “if i see yizhuo, i’ll freeze up and make a fool of myself.” your hands fly to rub at your eyes, groaning miserably, “i guess i’m not over her.”

chaewon slides into the space next to you, scoffing, “you think? having her number saved and pinned is crazy and the last time we talked before this, you were in love with her. what happened?”

your heart constricts painfully. you never spoke about your breakup to anyone, only asking chaewon if she still needed someone to split rent with. the moment you had uttered those words, you had left the shared apartment with yizhuo, not turning back to watch the love of your life collapse.

“i…” your throat dries up, “i was in love with her, i guess i still am. i don’t doubt that she felt the same for me, but maybe not anymore. our relationship was the best thing to ever happen to me. the happiest years of my life were when i was with yizhuo. she made me feel alive.”

tears prick at your eyes involuntarily. chaewon’s gaze is full of pity and comfort. sympathy. no one else gave you that.

“she wanted to get married, chaewon,” you whisper, “she was ready for marriage. i wasn’t.”

“oh.”

“i saw her looking at engagement rings one day and god, it was like, how have i never noticed before? she always shows me videos of weddings and how she would want her wedding to be like, but i never stopped to think whether i wanted marriage. i didn’t know what i would say if yizhuo just proposed. would it have hurt less for her if i said no rather than breaking up with her?”

chaewon presses a comforting hand to your shoulder, sighing, “i’m sorry, i literally see two of you right now but i’ll try to articulate this as best as i can.” her words draw out a hollow laugh from you. “you just weren’t ready yet, and yeah, you should have communicated that to her before jumping in to break up, but have you ever thought that you weren’t ready because you didn’t love her enough?”

you swallow, tears flowing down your cheeks freely, “n-no, i love her. she’s my favourite person. i love her so much, too much even. but getting married? that’s a lifelong commitment. i just didn’t know if she was sure that she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with… me. she has her whole life figured out. she’s a rich model who could have anyone else. we were childhood friends first, before girlfriends. and now she’s certain that she wants to marry me? what if there’s someone better for her out there? she’s only been chained to me because we got together so young. i just… had to let her go.”

“commitment issues,” chaewon states, “you have severe commitment issues.”

“i guess so,” you let out a watery laugh. your roommate chuckles, “you want her back?”

“yeah, i’m desperate.”

“let’s go to the wedding.”

you send a small smile to chaewon, “thanks, roomie.”

“i saw the invite by the way, and damn, are your friends rich? don’t get me wrong, i’m going as your moral support but the free buffet too—”

“i’m literally going to strangle you.”

yizhuo twirls the pen in her hand, watching it glide across her fingers and abruptly landing on the wooden table with a thud. she couldn’t stand seeing all the wedding preparations and chose to hide in jimin’s study. the door creaks open, a figure stands by the doorway.

“hello jimin unnie, aren’t you meant to be looking over the finishing touches of your wedding?” yizhuo asks, her smile dimming as she thinks about marriage. jimin frowns, “minjeong’s doing that. she told me to come check up on you.”

“me?”

“i know how you feel about weddings. we all do,” jimin says bluntly. yizhuo’s lips fall into a thin line. of course her friends were aware. they helped pick out the ring for god’s sake. the weight of a velvet box lying in her bedside table haunts her dreams.

yizhuo stands up from her desk, inching closer to jimin, a faux smile on her face, “you don’t have to worry about me. it’s your special day after all.”

“not yet, but let me worry about my friend for a while more before i get married,” jimin mutters, “minjeong sent an invite to y/n.” yizhuo’s whole body tenses up. a blurry image of you appears in her brain. she immediately shuts that down.

biting the inside of her cheek, yizhuo turns away from jimin with folded arms, “and? did she say she was coming?”

yizhuo hears jimin’s hesitance.

“just say it.”

jimin clears her throat, “she’s coming with a plus one.”

a distant thought forms. a plus one. your new girlfriend? did you find someone else? were you coming to the wedding to flaunt your new lover? yizhuo wasn’t dumb, she knew that her friends disliked you, heavily. minjeong most definitely sent out that invitation with disgust. jimin told her what minjeong had said to you. aeri had barely brushed it off, saying you weren’t worth her time scolding, despite the chain of messages she sent. she knew that you were aware they hated you. why would you come to the wedding?

“i-i’m not sure what’s their relationship, but her name is kim chaewon and oh my god, minjeong’s gonna kill me, y/n requested for a shared hotel room,” jimin utters out nervously. yizhuo’s eyes turn into slits. a shared hotel room?

“i see,” yizhuo says indifferently, contrasting the feelings bubbling inside her, “that’s good to know.”

jimin places a hand on yizhuo’s shoulder, “hey, it could all mean nothing, i don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“does it matter when i’m already like this?” yizhuo retorts back.

“i hope you don’t do anything stupid. before everything, you’re still my friend. if y/n showing up makes you uncomfortable, i’ll tell her she’s not invited,” jimin says softly, “minjeong will understand. you come first.”

“it’s your wedding, jimin. i won’t be a burden to you guys. it’s your day,” yizhuo mirrors jimin’s frown.

jimin’s shoulders slack.

“it’s not about that,” the older girl retorts, exasperated.

“what is it about then?”

“i don’t think minjeong will stay neutral and be calm when she sees y/n,” jimin groans, “she’ll probably pick a fight with her and i don’t want my wife to be stressed and angry on her wedding day.”

yizhuo can’t help teasing jimin, “wife, huh?”

jimin smirks, “yes, wife. you know last week, minjeong called me—”

“oh kay! i think you should go!” yizhuo yells, saving herself from the details of her friends’ intimate lives. jimin cackles maniacally as she leaves the study. yizhuo sighs and leans her head against the wooden door. jimin’s footsteps can be heard as she walks downstairs, along with the voices of her friends. they’re all scattered and anxious, she hears the distant shouting of minjeong and aeri. despite the noise around her, yizhuo feels somewhat at peace. for now. she doesn’t know what she’s going to do the moment you come to the wedding.

because despite what everyone else says, yizhuo cannot move on. you were literally half of her life and more. when you had uttered those words of devastation, it was like the world had ended. a terrible nightmare that tortured yizhuo every single day. was she too overbearing? sometimes— well, last time, you had mentioned that she was a very affectionate and clingy girlfriend. was that the sole reason? yizhuo frowns. no, that couldn’t be. you were equally as physically needy as her.

maybe you had found someone new? the plus one that was coming? that didn’t seem plausible either. if you were cheating, yizhuo would most definitely know and you abhorred cheaters anyway.

as she wrecked her mind for reasons, a common past time she developed after you had left, the constant rewinding of the conversation had been engraved in her brain eternally.

(yizhuo had just gotten off work, a smile on her face as she entered the house, heels clacking against the floor. the thought of you waiting at home impatiently for her only brought her smile to widen. maybe you would run up to her and embrace her warmly, complaining about how long she took. yet, neither of those happened and she’s left staring at you, hunched over, at the dining table, a suitcase packed by your side.

“what are you doing?” she had asked curiously. were you going on a trip? begrudgingly, you had gotten up, a sombre look on your face as you whispered, “yizhuo…”

that ticked yizhuo off. you never called her yizhuo. it was always baby, honey, sweetheart. but never yizhuo. it sounded so foreign and cold coming from your lips.

“what’s wrong? is everything okay?” she asked.

your face contorts into one of utter desperation and heartbreak, “i think we should break up.”

yizhuo’s mind had gone blank. she had never anticipated hearing those words from you. break up? that wasn’t in her future with you. her heart clenched uncomfortably against her ribcage and her throat constricted, to the point she couldn’t mutter a single word.

taking advantage of her silence, you run your fingers through your hair, the hair that yizhuo would so lovingly comb through every night as she whispered words of devotion into your ear, “i want to break up.”

“no.” is the only thing yizhuo can say. wide-eyed and stupefied, “no.”

you look as stunned as she is, yet the stark difference between the two of you, are the tears that threaten to tip over at every passing second in your eyes.

“yizhuo,” you pleaded, “i’m sorry. i can’t.”

“why are you doing this?” she croaked out, demanding an answer. the weight of the velvet box in her purse felt like it was dragging her down to the darkest pits of hell. she couldn’t imagine something like this ever happening. you were meant to be her happily ever after.

“i—”

yizhuo couldn’t stand it anymore. “tell me why you want to break up!” she yelled, the confusion and fatigue of her body overwhelming everything.

“i… please… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“you don’t love me anymore? you found someone else?” yizhuo accused. of course, none of these were the true reasons. you couldn’t even look at yizhuo in the eye before murmuring an apology again and grasping the suitcase in your hand.

“i love you,” you had whispered at the door, “i’m sorry.”

yizhuo doesn’t even respond. pure shock overtaking her as she watched you leave. the moment the door had closed, sobs took over yizhuo as she collapsed on the floor, heartbroken and devastated at losing the love of her life.

if you truly loved her, you wouldn’t have left so easily.)

that statement plagues yizhuo’s mind for the next few years. it replays in her head repeatedly, like a broken mantra. she knows that it’s unhealthy; to be thinking of you every night before she succumbs to a dreamless sleep. yet, sometimes, yizhuo prays that she might be dreaming, and when she wakes up, you would be right by her side. jimin thinks she should get a therapist. but yizhuo doesn’t want to get over you. she fears that you might just become a hazy memory, lost in anger and grief. she doesn’t want that to happen. because despite everything, the pain you have caused her, she still loves you.

it’s strange, the way love works. yizhuo hates you for doing this to her; ruining her for anyone else because if they even bore a similar trait to you, she would just break down. like the blind date aeri had set her up on long ago. fresh out of the breakup, and with extreme bribery and convincing, yizhuo had met shen xiaoting, one of aeri’s friends, over dinner. aeri had said that maybe yizhuo needed someone closer to her culture, and with the homesickness she felt constantly, the lack of comforting words that you provided, yizhuo agreed.

that date was the whole reason aeri stopped asking yizhuo to go on blind dates, for when xiaoting had mentioned that she liked cats, yizhuo had started bawling, the memory of you playing with your own pet cursing her mind.

it was embarrassing to say the least, and even more embarrassing to explain to xiaoting that it wasn’t her fault. the poor girl had thought yizhuo had something against cats. aeri apologised endlessly as yizhuo cried, with an awkward xiaoting patting her shoulder. at least they became friends.

maybe, with the support of her friends, yizhuo would be able to stand the sight of you at the wedding. it would be totally fine! and if she sees you with someone new, maybe, just maybe, it would give her the motivation to finally get over you.

honestly, screw everything. you literally hate chaewon right now. thankfully, jimin and minjeong had provided a one night stay at the hotel. your apartment (and mao) was being taken care of by sakura, one of chaewon’s friends. there was apparently a party before the actual day. you assumed they would just want a shared bachelorette party. however, your self-proclaimed wingman was cozying up to one of the guests. by her straight posture and gentle expression, she was probably nakamura kazuha from high school. yizhuo was friends with her, you remember.

you couldn’t believe that all those words of encouragement had flown out the window the moment chaewon locked eyes with the ‘love of her life’. you roll your eyes, already annoyed with your friend. somehow, you still hadn’t spotted yizhuo amongst the crowd.

most of them, you didn’t recognise. some, from high school and college. the rest, probably family members. maybe some faces stood out, like shin ryujin from history class or jang wonyoung, the valedictorian. but mostly, unrecognisable. from the various mops of hair in the crowd, you spot uchinaga aeri’s infamous smirk. you wonder where the rest of the group are.

you sigh, taking a lonely sip of the champagne they provided. at least it was good.

chaewon’s obnoxious laughter fills the area. it’s loud and irritating, or maybe you’re just easily annoyed right now. kazuha just stares at her, all confused. it’s a little funny.

“y/n.” a steely voice rings out from the crowd. you whip your head, heart racing at the familiar but dreadful tone.

“oh,” you whisper, horror-stricken. you weren’t prepared to meet them now!

the older girl merely stares at you, before you bow your head hesitantly, “congratulations on your marriage.”

jimin visibly loosened up, her eyes twinkling and shining with adoration, “thank you.” perhaps out of all of yizhuo’s friends, jimin was the one who hated you the least. she didn’t bother scolding you or cursing you out, only choosing to glare at you.

“i think we should talk,” she finally says after a moment of silence. you wholeheartedly agree with her. if you were meant to see yizhuo tomorrow, you definitely needed another friend that wasn’t chaewon.

she brings you out of the function room, the starry night sky being the only company outside. jimin takes a long gulp of her champagne.

“why’d you really break up with yizhuo?”

the patiently and dedicated stitches of a sewed wound are ripped apart, directly exposing your bleeding heart and emotions. everything comes falling apart the moment she asks. you can only stare at her.

“i… i made a mistake,” you shake your head, “i wasn’t ready.”

jimin, patient as always, hums, urging you to continue.

“she wanted to get married. i didn’t,” you say, with grief and regret lacing your every word, because everything would be fine if you had just talked to yizhuo.

“we helped her pick out the ring,” jimin adds. you only feel more guilty.

“i can’t give her the life she wants, unnie,” the endearing term of intimacy slips out, a cry filled with desperation, “she deserves the world and i can’t give her that.”

“you were her world. it’s that simple. she only ever wanted you.”

hurt gnaws at your heart, it’s palpitating with raw stabs that echo of your heartbreak.

“i don’t deserve her,” you sigh, “i had to let her go. i couldn’t bear to see the look on her face if i refused her engagement.”

jimin nods, “i understand your fear. but i hate the fact that this could have been solved with an explanation.”

you groan, anger coursing through your veins. you were so upset and narrow-minded at the time. the only solution was to seemingly break up with yizhuo. it would spare her the everlasting pain from a rejection of her proposal.

“i know, i just couldn’t at that time.”

the older girl tries to smile. it’s akin to one of those encouraging ones she would give right before an exam or test. it sparks a shiver of nostalgia.

“jagiya, where are you— oh.”

jimin quickly straightens up, swiftly turning around to face minjeong with a grin, “hey, mindoong.”

you tense up, your fingers wrapping around the glass tightly.

“glad you could make it,” minjeong’s eyes flicker up and down your body, venom evident in her tone as she hisses, “y/n.”

nodding, you reply, “thank you for inviting me.”

the tension is overbearing; with minjeong’s glares, jimin’s beaming smile and your awkward shuffling, you couldn’t wait to retreat to the comfort of your hotel room.

“where’s your girlfriend?” minjeong suddenly asks. you stare at her, confused, “my what?”

jimin’s eyes widen as she hastily pulls minjeong aside, frantically whispering in her ear. but like the past, jimin has never been a good whisperer. you catch phrases like ‘she might not be her girlfriend’ and ‘what if yizhuo hears?’. a looming sensation brews in your stomach.

“kim chaewon? is that her name?” minjeong asks harshly, “didn’t take you to like korean girls, i thought you liked chinese girls instead.”

you’re visibly taken aback. what was minjeong saying? chaewon? your girlfriend? since when was chaewon your girlfriend?

“uh,” despite your fear of minjeong yelling at you, your words come out firmly, “chaewon isn't my girlfriend.”

minjeong falters slightly before scoffing, “yeah right. you don’t have to lie now. we all know that you left yizhuo for some other girl.”

your heart stops. what?

what was she saying?

leaving yizhuo for another girl?

“i— i would never… that’s—”

“minjeong unnie, that’s enough.”

you’ve thought of this moment forever. every single day after the break up. you’ve thought of running back into her arms, apologising endlessly for even thinking of breaking up with her. you’ve thought of how she would accept you graciously with murmurs of comfort, because that was just how she was. a gracious and generous girl who deserved the world. you’ve thought of her bright smile and gleaming eyes.

you’ve never thought of her staring at you, a dull and saddened look on her face.

“ning—”

“minjeong unnie,” she pleads, “please.”

the watery gaze must have swayed minjeong over. you would know, having fallen prey to her puppy eyes before. yizhuo slides the door open, watching intently as minjeong and jimin leave.

“good luck,” jimin whispers just before she steps away. you think you need all the luck in the world right now.

yizhuo lets out a heavy sigh once the door slides closed. she gazes at you for a second. you’re taken back to your younger days, where every day was spent just staring at yizhuo. you had proclaimed confidently that yizhuo was the most gorgeous girl on earth. you aren’t wrong. the years you spent apart from her had done her generously. it had only been two, yet, yizhuo looked more mature and sure of herself.

“did you really find someone new?” she whispers, shattering the glass of ignorance. you swallow, shaking your head, “no.”

yizhuo thinks back to the drunken message you had sent.

“was that on purpose? that text you sent,” she asks, eyes wide and afraid of your answer.

you shake your head again, “i was drunk. i’m sorry.”

“i hate you, you know that right?” yizhuo says. before, you had imagined the piercing stab of pain that came with those words. you had thought it would be the end of your life, with the girl you loved the most saying she hated you.

it’s understandable now, and inevitable.

“i know,” you whisper.

yizhuo continues to stare at you. somehow, this all feels like a fever dream, one that she’ll wake up from soon. it feels unreal to have you in front of her again.

she takes in the sight of you, memorising every detail for if you leave again.

“why’d you come then?”

there are many reasons that you can say, with varying degrees of truthfulness; to congratulate jimin and minjeong, to see your friends again, to just visit your hometown.

“i wanted to see you.” it’s the truthest thing you’ve ever said.

“you can’t,” yizhuo inhales sharply, “yo-you can’t just show up like this.”

“i know, i’m sorry.”

your head hangs lowly.

“tell me the real reason why you left.”

you had expected this.

she would want closure.

your throat constricts uncomfortably.

“i… yizhuo…”

“tell me.” it feels similar to your past.

yizhuo looks as beautiful as ever. she’s the only thing you can think of right now. her lips are moving, yet you don’t hear a single thing.

“i didn’t want marriage.”

oh.

the girl’s eyebrows furrow. her eyes turning into slits of anger as she takes in a deep breath. you know she’s about to start tearing up. maybe you should quickly explain yourself.

it’s your only chance.

“i saw you looking at engagement rings and i knew i wouldn’t be ready if you got down on one knee. you’re a model, for god’s sake. you had a prospering career, being tied down to someone like me wouldn’t bring you any benefits,” you finally say. it’s not the full reason why, but you hope yizhuo would understand even a semblance of your choice.

“i know that it’s a shitty excuse. i know that i’m a coward. but what else was i meant to do?”

yizhuo huffs.

“talked to me. you could have talked to me.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“would that stop me from breaking your heart?”

the love of your life stands before you. yet, it seems like the only words of devotion you’ll exchange is how devoted she is to hating you. yizhuo crosses her arms, frowning, “yes. i’d much rather have a minute of heartbreak than years of it. you’re such a prick.”

“yizhuo—”

“no, you don’t get to do this,” she points a finger at your chest, prodding the area where your head resides ferociously, “you can’t just come back, explain yourself with an extremely stupid reason, and expect that i would be okay with it. you sent me a drunk text, saying you missed me. how come i don’t feel anything?”

“i love you, yizhuo. i just did what i thought was right in that moment—”

the only thing you can hear is your heart shattering into pieces at the sight of tears falling down her face. yizhuo sniffles, her voice becoming shrill as she adds on, “you’re an asshole. you think you’re the only one in this relationship? you didn’t even explain yourself properly. you think you’re making the right choices for us? for me?”

you continue to stare at her blankly.

the next words come out like a gunshot, “then you don’t know me at all.”

it snaps onto your skin, leaving a scathing burn and engraving ning yizhuo’s name into your body. your insides coil up painfully. hearing yizhuo’s cries as you left years ago had been torturous, but nothing beats her breaking down in front of you right this instant. you’re overcome with a striking urge to pull her into your arms and whisper words of affection into her ears, promising her to never leave. the pet name leaves your mouth quicker than you can think.

“baby—”

a sharp stinging sensation sears in your right cheek. you can feel the affected area heating up, scorching hot and red. yizhuo’s handprint is evident, singed in your skin.

an onslaught of tears rises, but you’re determined to not let them fall.

“okay,” you whisper, unable to say anything else to the equally stunned yizhuo, “i’ll leave. i’m sorry.”

the girl just stands outside in the cold, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks rosy from the wind. before you go, the slight shiver that runs through her body makes you hesitate. the comfort of your jacket feels like a heavy burden now.

maybe you would get slapped again. but at least yizhuo wouldn’t be cold.

gently taking it off, you encase yizhuo in your jacket, biting your cheek (which still hurts!) to resist a smile at how it covers her small figure. she gazes at you like a deer caught in headlights. you sigh and try to move your legs, but they feel like jelly. with much difficulty, you finally make it to the door, using the frame to stabilise your wobbly walking.

when you turn back, yizhuo isn’t staring at you, but she’s staring at the night sky, more specifically, the moon. you take one last look at her. the weight on your shoulders is gone now. and all that is left is a longing feeling to have yizhuo back in your arms again. but maybe, you could live with that.

sliding the door open, you go back into the function room. the crowd had dispersed, leaving just a few people chatting around. you spot jimin and minjeong talking while drinking. aeri’s at the bar, engaged in a conversation with a waitress. chaewon, god bless her, is relatively nearby, while kazuha is nowhere to be found.

“chaewon,” you breathe out, relieved. she turns to you, startled, “oh damn, what happened to your face? you look a little…”

“i know,” you laugh dryly, “i think it’s time for us to leave and go to sleep now.”

chaewon doesn’t argue and instead nods, her eyes drawn to the reddening mark across your cheek. even in the dark light, she could still notice the imprints of someone’s fingers.

“she slapped you?” she asks while you head towards the elevator.

“yeah,” you scratch the back of your neck, “we kind of… argued.”

chaewon laughs heartily at your misfortune. you’re glad at least this brings someone joy. maybe minjeong too. she would love to see you in pain.

“i think you should get some rest buddy,” she pats your back. you nod, feeling as if sleep was just an arm’s reach away.

the conversation with yizhuo had drained you significantly, both mentally and physically. and maybe you should put some ointment on the red area too. you might wake up with a bruise or something tomorrow.

the urge to flop into bed is too strong as chaewon slides the keycard into the slot. the door opens, revealing a luxurious hotel suite with a king-sized bed. you remember requesting for a shared room. it was to mainly prevent yourself from doing anything reckless when drunk. you’d have chaewon to keep you grounded.

“did you get kazuha’s number?” you ask as chaewon throws her face cleanser at you. the girl giggles, “yeah. she’s so cute.”

you subtly cringe at the lovestruck look in her eyes.

groaning, you head into the bathroom. your eyes widen as you prod at your cheek, shocked that yizhuo landed such a heavy hit. damn, has she been going to the gym lately? the yizhuo back then barely had any strength to resist your tickles. there wasn’t any surging hot anger left from yizhuo slapping you, just a dull and yearning hope for her. maybe you should calm yourself down by taking a cold shower.

after dowsing yourself with water, you padded out of the bathroom, only to discover that chaewon wasn’t hunched over her luggage anymore.

you check your phone.

chaewon [10.27pm]:

zuha texted me, staying w her for the night

there’s ointment on the bedside table

for ur stupid face

bye :p

wow. chaewon had managed to do that within a day. staying at a girl’s hotel room? you whistle lowly. maybe she was onto something. but with her departure, the hotel room feels too quiet now. only the breezing and fluttering sounds of the airconditioning accompanying your thoughts of self-loathing. collapsing onto the bed, you reach out for the ointment.

just as you unscrew the cap, the doorbell rings. you don’t recall ever ordering room service. maybe it was chaewon and she forgot something?

you turn the door knob, not bothering to check who it was.

“chaewon—”

ning yizhuo stands before you, glassy eyes and a look of desperation that you’re familiar with.

“oh.”

she shuffles awkwardly, gesturing at your cheek, “are—is it okay? does it hurt?”

gulping, you shake your head.

“can we talk?” she asks, in the quietest voice ever, her words coming out shaky and breathless.

you open the door wider.

yizhuo mutters a soft, “thank you,” as she enters the room. you quickly send a text to chaewon telling her not to come back.

“did you put any cream on it?” she asks.

“no, not yet. i was just about to,” you reply quietly. the tension from the heated argument from before had disapparented, only leaving a strained relationship behind.

“can you sit down?”

you follow her instructions dutifully, sitting right at the edge of the bed. yizhuo lifts the ointment up, squeezing a bit on her finger before gently rubbing it into your cheek. it hurts, but the softness of her touch heals the area.

wincing as she applies more pressure, you can only stare at the girl.

“i’m sorry,” she whispers.

“it’s okay.”

you want to pull her into your arms.

you want her to lean onto you.

you want the feeling of her skin against yours.

“i was really hurt.”

“i know.”

yizhuo sighs, her hands dropping.

“i can’t believe you left me so easily.”

your chest tightens at the devastated tone in her voice. it wasn’t easy, you want to say. but it doesn’t feel right to defend yourself now.

“i thought it was the right thing to do.”

yizhuo lifts her head up, “why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to get married?”

“i don’t know,” it comes out in a hushed murmur, “i didn’t want to tie you down. you had a lot more things to accomplish.”

“i’d rather have you and nothing than losing you and having everything.”

the confession goes unsaid. because you’re her everything.

“i’m sorry. you just had your whole life in front of you and i was in the back. i… i didn’t fit into your life.”

the girl takes everything in. you were just so afraid then. scared that once you said yes to her proposal, yizhuo might realise that you weren’t the one for her. you’d rather be away from her, than be with her and make her unhappy. you didn’t want to live a miserable life where you hated each other.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me.”

“i know, yizhuo.”

yizhuo’s eyes are brimming with tears. her raven hair covering her face partially, but you can feel the pain radiating off her.

“you know that i would have been happy just being with you?”

“i know.”

“god, you still left like it was the easiest decision of your life.”

no it wasn’t, you again want to protest.

“you know that even in another life, i would choose to just have you by my side, even if i lose everything else? don’t you understand the extent of my love for you?”

it’s so surreal— the way yizhuo is practically begging for you to realise that leaving her was the worst possible choice for you to make.

“i love you too much.”

“then why’d you leave?” she asks.

through tears, you shakily breathe out, “because i love you too much.”

the lack of past tense doesn’t bother you, nor does it bother yizhuo. it’s a given that you’re still madly in love with the girl, and vice versa. it only leaves the question of what will happen now. yizhuo doesn’t say much afterwards. it’s the truth. you love her too much that you couldn’t bear to see her suffer because of you.

“i was so ready to marry you, i bought a ring,” yizhuo mutters, shedding tears. her sniffles aren’t concealed by the low humming of the air conditioning. it feels too real.

“forgive me, please,” you say.

“i can’t.”

the hotel room goes quiet.

“that’s okay,” it’s hard to say. you want to protest against everything, beg yizhuo to take you back and you could live your happily ever after with her.

it doesn’t happen. you don’t fall to your knees and plead.

you only stare at yizhuo in a mix of fear and longing affection. it pains you to see her so broken, and it only drives the knife further into your heart to know you’re the reason why.

“i’m so tired, y/n.”

you nod, feeling the fatigue seep in.

“me too.”

“can i sleep here tonight?” yizhuo asks softly.

you nod. there were still things to talk about, but you think you’ve done a decent job so far. pulling the covers over your bodies as yizhuo slides into the bed, you relish in the warmth and comfort of having her beside you again.

she turns her head to look at you, uncertainty filling her voice, “let’s talk more in the morning. i’m tired now.”

you agree with her wholeheartedly, inching closer to fit against her back.

as yizhuo’s eyelids flutter shut, you caress her skin tenderly. your index finger writes against her back, strokes lining her skin.

我爱你.

i love you. it’s one of the many phrases you’ve picked up throughout the years of being with the girl. she only taught you silly words and swears, but yizhuo had insisted you learn how to say and write those very words.

it’s fitting, because it’s all you ever feel for her.

because of yizhuo, you’ve had the opportunity to experience having a soulmate for almost your whole life. because of yizhuo, there’s no lingering doubt of being unlovable. because of yizhuo, you get to spend your days filled with happiness.

because of yizhuo, you understand what love is.

you just hope she understands you too.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Burn

My heart always hurts when I watch the cutscene where Astarion burns under the sun. Dammit Larian Studios

Summary: You chase after Astarion when he runs away from the rising sun and remind him that you chose him.

You watch as blue lines crawl across his skin, steam rising as the sun eats away at him once more, now that he is free of the parasite. You hear the panic and sadness in his voice as reality sets in — he is no longer immune to the sun, condemned forever to live in the shadows. His ruby red eyes lift to meet yours as his skin scorches, an apology falling from his lips and he rushes to find shelter before you can say anything.

“Astarion!” You shout, watching his fading figure. He doesn’t look back, of course he doesn’t, he doesn’t have the time to when all he can think about is how his skin is searing. Your other companions remain rooted but your legs find an extra burst of energy and soon you find yourself hot on your lover’s trail, desperate to find him.

“Astarion!” You call out, panting from the exertion. Running like that just after defeating a Netherbrain was not a good idea, and you can feel your head spinning. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady yourself and lean against the nearby wall, getting as much air into your lungs as possible.

“Astarion,” you gasp, forcing yourself to keep moving, telling yourself that the vampire was suffering more than you were. You stagger onwards, barely remembering where you last saw him and pray that he hasn’t gotten far.

You make your way to a stack of crates hidden behind a docked ship and find a figure huddled in the corner, shaking. You stumble towards the figure, fingers hastily fumbling for the clasp of your cloak which you throw around the figure’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Star,” you breathe, relieved. You feel his arms slide around your waist tentatively, cautiously hugging you back.

“Why are you here?” He whispers. The scent of your lifeblood fills his nose, causing fangs to peek out but he holds himself back, holds the hunger back.

“For you, of course.” You continue to hold onto him tightly. “I’m not leaving you alone, not ever.”

“Why?” He can feel you, feel your warmth, your touch, but a part of him still nags at him, trying to convince him that this is all just a dream, that you want nothing to do with him, not when he is confined to the darkness. He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in the fact that you’re here with him, that you came for him when you could be out in the new dawn with the others.

“Why? Because I love you, I’m hopelessly in love with you and I don’t want a future without you.” Your fingers ghost over the burns, an ache in your heart when you see how badly the sun has burnt him. Even as the sun scorched him, he still took the time to apologise, to look you in the eye, to tell you of how much he enjoyed the journey.

“Even if it means being unable to live in the day? Being unable to feel the sun on your skin?” The words cause a lump to form in his throat. He wants to push you away, tell you to find someone else, someone better. You deserve so much better than whatever he can give you, you deserve to be able to live with the sun warming your skin, you deserve —

“Yes. I know what it means to be in a relationship with you, I know it means never seeing the sun again, never feeling its warmth, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” The fierce fire he fell in love with back then burns in your eyes, daring him to deny you your choice and he feels himself falling for you all over again.

Your devotion to the people you care about, the lengths you would go for each of them, the love you had for those around you. He had once found all these traits foolish, but now they were his saving line, the reason you were currently kneeling by his side, tenderly caressing the rough burnt skin of his cheek as you firmly declared your intent to remain by his side for the rest of your life.

You pull the cloak over his head and shoulders, ensuring they cover as much of his skin as possible.

“I look terrible, don’t I?” He gives a hollow laugh.

“And yet still so beautiful. It’s not fair how you can pull that off.” You chuckle, tilting your head to offer your neck to him.

“Drink up,” you say with a smile so bright it blinds him. “Then we’ll head back to Elfsong Tavern and discuss what to do next.”

He tugs at the cloak around him. It smells of you, the scent deep and warm. He buries himself in it, grateful for the protection it provides and gently rests his lips against your bare neck. His fangs prick your skin, and then dig deeper as blood begins to flow into his mouth. The cracking blue lines on his skin start to fade, his usual pale likeness coming back as he drinks your precious lifeblood, savouring every drop freely given.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your neck.

“Anytime,” you murmur back, holding him close. It always brings a sense of comfort, feeling him in your embrace, breathing in his scent. You hold him for a while longer, basking in the feeling of his cold undead skin against your warm living skin until the others find the both of you.

Your group makes its way back to Elfsong Tavern while shielding Astarion from the sun’s rays. The walk is filled with a quiet yet comfortable silence, exhaustion from the day’s fight and thoughts of the future that lay ahead setting in.

Everyone files into their own rooms, leaving you and Astarion standing in the corridor, facing one another.

“You really mean it?” He asks. He has to confirm, he has to make sure that he is making the right decision to entrust a part of his future to you.

“Mean what?” You tilt your head quizzically.

“That you don’t mind staying with me.” He shifts his weight from one leg to another, playing the corners of the cloak over his head.

“I mean it. We’ll find a way to get you walking in the sun again, and if we cannot, then I don’t mind spending the rest of my life in the shadows.” You take his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly. “You’re all I need, you’re all I want in this future of my choosing. I hope I’m in the future you choose as well.”

In the future he chooses? He…oh right. Cazador is dead, there is no master to tell him what to do, to control his every move. He can decide what he wants to do next, where he wants to go, who he chooses to spend his time with.

And he wants to spend it all with you.

“Of course you are, my love. There’s no one else I’d rather have.” He flashes his usual smile, eyes softening at the way you light up upon hearing his words.

“Then…let’s start planning it, together.”

“Together.” He agrees, liking the way his new future sounds. Even if he had to skulk in the shadows for eternity, maybe such a life wasn’t so bad with you around. He would have you to wake up to, be able to hold you, be loved by you, even if he had to burn under the sun.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.