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demensrage · 1 month ago

Text

j for just make me a mess ⚊ • . with chrollo lucilfer

summary: after a successful robbery, the leader of the phantom troupe must reward his wife for having been the essential key to the success of the organization, what better reward than submitting to her.

cw: established relationship, switch!reader, switch!chrollo, nipple play, slight orgasm denial, face riding, choking kink.

word count: 6k

You had been essential to the success of the Phantom Troupe last heist, so much so that the atmosphere in that mansion, now their new hideout, overflowed with euphoria and celebration. The expensive crystal chandeliers and fine paintings adorned the space like a perfect reflection of the success achieved, and every corner of the house seemed to whisper temptations of power and conquest.

Being with the leader granted you more than privileges; you were untouchable, and the other members knew it well. It took just a suggestive glance and a mischievous smile for Chrollo, always accommodating when it came to your whims, to grant you ownership of that opulent loot.

Chrollo's eyes watched you, intense and dark, as if he sensed that your desire for material things was merely an extension of the deeper, darker desires he himself awakened in you. In a slow movement, you approached the central chandelier, brushing the tips of your fingers against the crystals reflecting the flickering lights. You knew he was smiling behind you, delighted by how you immersed yourself in luxury, possessing it as if it had belonged to you forever.

"Everything you desire is yours," Chrollo whispered, and his words were more than a mere statement. They were a promise, a sweet threat, an inevitable decree that in that mansion, just like in your life, he wanted you as captive to his desires as you were to your own.

You turned to look at him, the air between you charged with electrifying tension. His gaze focused on your skin, where the spider tattoo began on your shoulder, its legs extending elegantly toward your neck, a symbol of loyalty and connection. The number zero was more than just a design; it was an emblem you shared with him, a mark of belonging that bound you to Chrollo in a profound and unique way.

He smiled, his expression reflecting both pride and desire. "You are part of the Brigade," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "like me. Always."

The heat of his gaze enveloped you, and in that moment, you understood that the tattoo represented not just your connection to him, but also to the power you both possessed. It was a reminder that, although you were his wife, you were also a force to be reckoned with.

You leaned closer, brushing your fingers across his chest, challenging his personal space, a game you both knew well. "And you, my love," you replied in a seductive tone, "are the one who makes this spider feel so alive."

Chrollo's smile widened, and a spark of approval shone in his eyes. He knew you were not just his wife; you were his equal, and together, nothing in this world could stop you.

You took his hand, pulling him toward the main room with an air of determination and mischief. Chrollo followed obediently, the trust between you palpable in every step you took. As you crossed the threshold, you closed the door behind you, and before he could utter a word, you kissed him fervently.

Your lips met his in a voracious movement, a clash of desires igniting the spark between you. You knew you had plans for that night; the thought of taking advantage of him made you smile internally. Each encounter was a seductive dance, a mutual surrender where he always seemed to lose himself in you, but this time was different.

The intensity of his kiss made you forget the outside world. Chrollo held you firmly, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if he wanted to etch your form into his memory. Yet, there was always something in the air, a challenge, a silent promise that this night would be special.

It was hard to recall a moment when he hadn't left you sprawled on the bed, feeling completely overwhelmed by pleasure. The moans and whispers became a private symphony between you, a language that only the two of you understood. In that instant, you wished time would stand still, that every second would stretch as you explored the limits of your connection, each kiss and caress more intense than the last.

With a mischievous smile, you pulled away slightly, looking into his eyes, challenging him to take you to a new level of delight, knowing that no matter how many times he made you feel this way, there was always more to discover together.

"Tonight, I lead," you whispered against his ear, letting your words slide like a gentle provocation. The warmth of your breath sent a shiver down his spine, and Chrollo stood still, anticipating what was to come.

You moved closer, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites along his jawline, feeling how his skin reacted to each caress. As you descended toward his neck, you reveled in the taste of his skin, enjoying the contrast between his firmness and the softness of your lips. The way his breathing grew heavier told you that every move you made excited him, and that only increased your confidence.

Chrollo, always so controlled, now allowed himself to be swept away by your dominance, like a warrior surrendering to his conqueror. You knew this night was yours, and that filled you with power. Every kiss and bite you left on his skin was a reminder of your victory, a small trophy for allowing the Troupe to succeed in its last heist.

You gripped the headboard of the bed as you moved your hips in a hypnotic rhythm, feeling the tension in the air. Chrollo was completely at your mercy, his face between your thighs, and he couldn’t help but lose himself in the delight you offered him. Every movement of yours plunged him into a maelstrom of repressed desires, and the way you rode him left him eager, wishing he could touch you, but he was restricted by the restraints you had placed on his hands.

You knew he was trying to suppress his strength, controlling himself so he wouldn’t break the restraints and drag you into a fight where you both knew you would lose control. But that was precisely what you were after: to have him completely at your disposal, allowing him to enjoy you without the ability to influence the game.

The pressure of his breath on your skin sent shivers down your spine, and every time you moved your hips, his mouth moved in a desperate attempt to get closer to you, as if he wanted to devour you. “You can only eat me,” you reminded him, smirking as you looked into his eyes, bright with desire.

His gaze answered you with a mix of defiance and surrender, an eloquent silence that said he was willing to accept any conditions you imposed on him. Chrollo was a master in the art of patience, but tonight, being restrained and subdued by your will, it was as if he was on the verge of exploding, the tension building between you palpably electric.

With every move you made, every back and forth, you knew you were pushing him to the edge. And as he gave himself over to the pleasure of just being able to kiss you, lick you, and devour you with his gaze, you felt in control, a power that fueled both your desire and his.

Chrollo sucked hard, his lips wrapped around your clit, reveling in the moans that escaped your lips. Every sound you made became his driving force, pushing him to give you the pleasure you so desperately needed and that he so desired. You let yourself go, feeling the tension building in your abdomen, a torrent of sensations threatening to overflow.

With one hand, you brought your palm to his hair, squeezing it tightly, directing his attention to what made you most enjoy it. He responded to your touch with renewed intensity, knowing that each tug was a silent command, a warning that he should intensify his devotion to you.

“Be a good husband and make me come,” you commanded, the tone of your voice a mix of authority and desire. You continued to rock your hips back and forth, creating a rhythm that made him work harder. You knew you were keeping him on the edge of madness; his dedication and surrender were unwavering.

Chrollo threw himself into the task, his lips and tongue exploring every corner, every fiber of your being, searching for that response you desired. His eyes lifted to you, and in them was a mix of admiration and need, a reflection of the desire you shared. You liked the control you had over him, and the way his body reacted to your every move gave you a satisfaction you couldn’t ignore.

The waves of pleasure began to intensify, and the outside world faded away, leaving only the heat of his mouth and your growing desire. With every lick, every suck, you came closer to climax, the echo of your moans intertwining with Chrollo’s desperation to please you. You knew that, tonight, you would be the one to take both of them to new heights.

You pressed your thighs against his face as you orgasmed, a torrent of sensations that tore through you like lightning. The moans that had previously escaped your lips transformed into a scream of pleasure that filled the room, echoing off the walls as your climax consumed you completely.

Chrollo, trapped between your legs, showed no intention of backing down. His tongue and lips worked tirelessly, taking you further than you thought possible. The pressure of your thighs on his face was a mix of control and surrender, and as the wave of pleasure swept you away, his breathing became deeper, almost as if he too was reaching a point of no return.

The intensity of the moment engulfed you, and every contraction of your body was a sign that you were nearing the end, a point where pleasure and release came together in an explosion of ecstasy. Chrollo, feeling your body respond to his ministrations, intensified his movements, his devotion evident in every caress, every suck, as if he was determined to take you even further.

Finally, as the climax reached its peak, you felt your entire being fill with overflowing euphoria, your mind clouded by the intensity of the moment. You closed your eyes and let yourself fall, clinging to his hair tighter as the spasms of pleasure took hold of you. As the wave of pleasure began to dissipate, you opened your eyes to find Chrollo’s intense gaze fixed on you, a mix of satisfaction and longing in his expression.

You lowered yourself from his mouth, crawling up his body and capturing his mouth in an effervescent kiss that ignited the spark of passion again. The intensity of his lips on yours caused a moan to escape your throat, a sound that spoke of how much you wanted him. Chrollo clenched the fabric of the bed tightly, fighting the urge to break the bonds that kept him restrained.

You tasted yourself on his mouth, letting the mix of saliva and desire flow between you, an exchange that only increased the tension between the two of you. “If you break the ropes, there’s no sex for you,” you threatened him, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you took his cock in your hands. The pressure you exerted brought him some relief, and his breathing became deeper, his desire palpable in the air.

Chrollo looked at you, the internal struggle reflected in his eyes. The promise of pleasure and the threat of deprivation intertwined in a game that only the two of you could understand. His body tensed under your touch, and you could feel his desire rising, eager for release, but also eager to play along.

“You are a dangerous woman,” he said in a low whisper, a crooked smile playing on his lips. But there was a glint in his gaze, one that showed he was more than willing to obey your commands, to give himself over completely to whatever you decided.

With a gentle movement, you decided to increase the tension between you. You pulled back slightly, holding his hardness in your hands, and looked into his eyes, daring him to resist. “Are you going to behave, or should I make this even harder for you?”

You moved your hands up and down in a cruelly slow manner, enjoying every passing second as you watched Chrollo’s internal struggle. The way his body responded to your touch, tense and eager, was a delight that only increased your desire to control him.

“Are you going to behave?” you asked, letting the tension in the air grow. His eyes, dark and deep, shone with a mix of desire and frustration as he tried to maintain his composure. You could feel the need in his gaze, the longing to break free from the bonds that kept him restrained.

Chrollo inhaled deeply, trying to control his breathing. “You know I can’t resist,” he admitted, his voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. The sincerity of his words echoed in the air, and it made you smile. You knew he was caught between the desire to obey you and the need to take control.

With every movement, your hands sliding slowly and deliberately, you kept him on the edge of desperation. You could see his body twitch, how he struggled not to break the ropes that held him at your mercy. It was a dangerous game, one you both enjoyed, where every touch was a promise of what was to come, and every whisper, a challenge to his self-control.

“Give me a reason to keep going like this,” you challenged, the sweetness of your voice contrasting with the intensity of the moment. The answer you sought was written in his expression, in the way his breathing quickened and his body moved towards you, seeking more of you. But you wanted him to say it, to give himself over completely to your will.

Chrollo bit his lip, desire and frustration clearly visible on his face. “You’re the reason,” he said, his voice a murmur laden with intensity. “There’s nothing I want more than you right now.”

That answer made you smile, a flash of satisfaction crossing your face. You knew you had touched his weak spot, and that knowledge only increased your power over him. You moved your hands once more, slowly moving up to his base and stopping just before he climaxed. The way his body reacted, trembling and yearning, gave you a feeling of dominance you couldn’t ignore.

“So what will you do to prove it?” you asked, leaning in close to whisper those words directly into his ear. The closeness allowed you to bask in his warmth, in the scent emanating from his skin, while keeping him on the edge of desperation.

“I’ll do anything,” Chrollo replied, his eyes locked on yours, full of determination. “But I need more than this. I need you to let me take you.”

“Is that all? Just a little petting and that’s it?” The mockery in your voice made him frown, but it also gave him a new surge of defiance. You knew he wanted more, and you intended to keep him in this power game. “Come on, show me how you’re capable of being a good husband. I want to see that dedication.”

You moved your hands once more, faster this time, eliciting an immediate response from his body. His breathing became more erratic, and you could feel the tension building in the air between you. Chrollo bit his lip, his eyes closed for a moment as he tried to control the surge of pleasure that washed over him.

“You’re cruel,” he said, voice cracking, though his tone was not one of reproach, but acceptance. “But I will. I promise that when you release me, I will take you to the limits of what we can achieve together.”

The promise in his words was an echo of your own desire, and it only made the anticipation grow in your chest. “Then, you’ll just have to be patient,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him once more, letting the chemistry between you intensify. “Tonight, you are my plaything, and I will decide when you will be released.”

You stopped your movements, slowly moving down to kiss his neck, leaving a mark of your possession with a small bite that made a shiver run through his body. The way he reacted to your touch made you smile; You knew he had the willpower of a leader, but in those moments, he was completely at your mercy.

You continued your descent, leaving a trail of hot kisses down his torso, enjoying the taste of his skin and the heat emanating from him. Reaching one of his nipples, you took it into your mouth with a mix of sweetness and ferocity, alternating between sucking and small bites.

Chrollo let out a moan, his body arching slightly towards you, seeking more of the attention you were giving him. His reaction turned you on even more, and the way your movements were connected to his pleasure made you feel powerful and desired. You could see how he struggled to contain himself, his jaw clenched and his gaze fixed on you, unable to take his eyes off what you were doing.

“So this is what you want, is it?” you whispered in a playful tone, as you kept his nipple between your lips, playing with it. The smile that formed on your face only intensified the need in his eyes.

“You are insatiable,” Chrollo replied, his voice cracking as he tried to control his desire. “But this is only the beginning. You can’t leave me like this.”

“Of course I can,” you replied, letting out a soft laugh as your eyes sparkled with mischief. The confidence in your voice was a challenge, a provocation that goaded him into reacting. You knew he was on edge, wanting you to push him past his limit, but you also enjoyed the control you had at the moment.

You lowered your gaze, enjoying the effect you had on him. “If you want me to continue, you’ll have to make an effort,” you said, moving back to his torso, letting your lips explore him with devotion. Each kiss a reminder of what he could get if he met your expectations, as you continued to play with his desire.

“What would you like me to do?” Chrollo asked, his voice low and heavy with need. You could see frustration starting to mix with his desire, and it only increased your satisfaction. “Tell me, and I’ll do whatever you ask.”

You laughed softly, enjoying his surrender. “No, love. Tonight you’re just going to receive,” you told him, looking into his eyes with an intensity that made it clear that your decisions were the ones that ruled. “I want you to focus on what you feel. No interruptions, no complaints. Just you and me.”

With that message clear, you began to leave a series of wet kisses down his abdomen, working your way down with deliberate intent. Your tongue drew patterns on his skin, tasting every part of him as you continued to enjoy complete control over his pleasure. Chrollo, who had been so confident and dominant before, was now completely at your mercy, and the revelation of his vulnerability only intensified the desire you felt for him.

“Get ready,” you murmured, before continuing to move down, enjoying the lead up to what was to come, each move a step further in the game you two had begun.

You took him in your hands once more, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingers. With a playful movement, you left a small kitten lick over the tip, enjoying the way his body instantly reacted. His eyes widened, and a mix of surprise and desire flashed in them as you looked up at him with a mischievous expression.

“You like this?” You asked softly, your gaze locked on his. You knew he was desperate for more, and this moment of torture only served to intensify his need. The way he struggled to stay in control, how his breathing became more labored, was music to your ears.

Every soft lick you gave, every little touch you made was designed to prolong his pleasure and make him even more eager. You knew exactly how to play your cards, and seeing the frustration on his face only heightened your excitement.

“Just a little more,” you whispered, as you leaned a little closer, your lips caressing his skin gently. You could see how his body responded to every movement, desire building as you kept him right on the edge. “Just a little patience and I promise I’ll reward you.”

Your intention was to make him feel what it meant to be your plaything, and the power you had over him only made everything more electrifying. Chrollo tried to control himself, but you knew that every second that passed brought him closer to a point of no return. With a smile on your face, you prepared to continue your little torture, enjoying the way you drove him to the edge of madness.

He moved his hips desperately, trying to get deeper into your mouth, but you refused, pulling away with a nimble, playful movement. His frustration was palpable, his body tense and eager for what he couldn’t reach. The way his eyes burned with desire only added to your satisfaction, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him struggle with his own impatience.

“Do you want more?” you asked, leaning into him with a seductive tone of voice, letting the tension fill the air between you. “Then you’ll have to earn it.” The tease in your words was intentional, a challenge that only accentuated his desire for you.

You played with him again, your hands making gentle movements, but keeping the same distance as before. You could feel his breathing becoming more and more erratic, his body seeking the sense of relief you had the control to give him.

“There’s no rush, love. I want you to truly feel every moment.” The frustration on his face grew even more intense, but there was also a glint of admiration in his gaze, an acceptance of your dominance. “You’re cruel,” he said, his voice a whisper filled with desire. But the mix of frustration and desire only fueled the fire between you, and you enjoyed every second of that game.

With a mischievous smile, you moved a little closer, letting your lips caress his skin without committing. “Cruel? Maybe. But it’s a game we both enjoy.” With that line, you held your ground, allowing him to experience the desperation of his desire as you decided how much more you could take.

You decided to keep teasing him, keep teasing him. You moved your hands a little faster, feeling the tension build with each movement. You ground his hips into the bed, the feeling of his body responding to your touch filling you with power.

Chrollo began to moan, a deep, needy sound that echoed through the room. “God, please…” he gasped, his voice heavy with desperation. He pulled at the ropes that bound him, as if that would free him from the storm of pleasure you were providing him. Every moan was a reminder of your control over him, and the pride you felt in hearing it was indescribable.

“So you like this?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur that mingled with his moans. “Don’t worry, baby. I promise it’s just the beginning.” You watched as his body squirmed, searching for that moment of connection you kept just out of reach.

“Ahhh! No… don’t stop,” Chrollo exclaimed, his breathing becoming more labored. Every word that left his lips was an echo of his desire, and your heart filled with satisfaction. “I can’t take it…”

“Can’t take it? Do you like being my toy?” you asked with a smile, intensifying your movements as you looked into his eyes, enjoying the battle he fought between pleasure and the need to release himself.

“Yes! I’m yours… Just do it…” His voice was a whisper filled with surrender, and each word only reinforced the control you had over him. You knew you were driving him to the edge, and it filled you with an indescribable pride.

Chrollo continued to moan, each sound a testament to his surrender to you, as you kept your steady pace, enjoying the pleasure you shared in this power play.

“If only others saw you like this,” you said in a teasing tone, clicking your tongue in denial as you moved your hands faster. The pressure you exerted was delicious, a perfect blend of pleasure that you knew he loved.

“What would they say about you? Your little slut of a wife,” you added with a mischievous smile, enjoying how those words echoed in his mind. The way his eyes briefly closed, as if just thinking about it intensified his desire, only increased your satisfaction.

“Don’t say that!” Chrollo replied, though his voice was filled with pleasure, a contrast that made it clear that those words excited him. “I'm not… I'm not a slut…” But each sentence faded into a moan that made clear otherwise.

“You're not? Of course you are, baby,” you told him, as your movements became more intense, enjoying the control you had over him. “You're my slut, and I love it. Watching you like this, completely at my mercy… it's a beautiful sight.”

He moaned in response, his hips involuntarily moving towards you, seeking deeper contact. “Ahh, no… I can't…” The struggle between his pride and his desire was palpable, and watching him slowly give in filled you with deep satisfaction.

“Just let yourself go, love. No one has to know. You're mine tonight, and I promise I'll make you feel amazing,” you whispered, as you continued to play with him, enjoying the moment and the power you held in your hands.

With your other free hand, you began to massage his heavy balls, feeling them quiver under your expert touch. You knew he was close; the sheen of the tip with precum alone made your mouth water. Anticipation filled the air as you leaned into him, reveling in the power you held at that moment.

You took a tentative lick, tasting the sweetness of desire emanating from him. “Are you close, my love?” you asked, your voice soft and teasing. The way his eyes widened, filled with a mix of desire and desperation, only added to your arousal.

“Yes! God, yes!” Chrollo exclaimed, his voice cracking with the intensity of the pleasure. Every word that left his lips was an echo of his need, and you enjoyed the spectacle he put on. The struggle to maintain control was on the verge of crumbling, and the sight filled you with satisfaction.

“Do you want me to let you go?” you asked, increasing the pressure of your hands, enjoying the way his body writhed before you. “Or would you rather I keep you on the edge a little longer…”

“Please… no… I can’t… hold on any longer,” he panted, the need palpable in his voice. His body arched, seeking the release you had the power to give or deny him. And in that instant, you decided you wanted to enjoy a little more of his agony, of his total surrender.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you said with mock sorrow, pulling your hands away from him. The expression on his face turned from desire to confusion, and frustration began to take over his gaze. The way his body tensed, eager for your touch, only increased your amusement.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Don’t you like to play?” you asked in a playful tone, enjoying the way he moved his hips, trying to get closer to you again. The image of his desperation was a delight, and the power you had over him filled you with satisfaction.

“Please don’t leave me like this…” Chrollo pleaded, his voice cracking. His words were a song to your ego, and watching him squirm at your decision only increased your desire to keep him in that state of pleasurable agony.

“Maybe if you were a good husband and didn’t pull the strings…” you suggested, looking at his face with a mix of tenderness and defiance. “Maybe you could have what you so desire.”

He sighed, frustrated but still filled with desire. “I’ll do whatever you want… just don’t leave me like this.” His words were a plea, and you knew he had to give in to your will.

“So, tell me how much you want me, and maybe I’ll reconsider,” you challenged, enjoying the tension in the air, every second a mix of shared control and desire.

Chrollo looked at you, frustration and desire warring in his eyes. “I want you… I want you more than you can imagine,” he admitted, his voice shaking with need. The sincerity in his words was palpable, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Really? More than you want to release?” you asked, enjoying the game. The tension in the room was almost electric, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

“Yes, please… I’m willing to do whatever you want,” he pleaded, his body still trembling with the promise of the pleasure you had initiated.

“Perfect,” you said, moving back towards him, your hands seeking his skin. You began to massage his thighs, leaving a trail of kisses along his body, slowly moving closer to his center. “Because only you know what I want, don’t you?”

His eyes closed as he enjoyed your touch, and Chrollo let out a low moan. “Yes… yes I do. But… please… don’t leave me like this again,” he begged, the desperation clearly evident in his tone.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whispered, enjoying his vulnerability. “I’ll give you what you want, but first you must show me how grateful you are for it.” And so, you began to play again, your hands moving with the same slowness he had experienced before, enjoying every little moan that left his mouth.

“You’re a fucking demon,” Chrollo said, laughing through the gasps, as your touch began to intensify again. “I can’t believe you’re enjoying this.”

You looked into his eyes as you sat on top of him, feeling his body react to your touch. “You’ve already enjoyed yourself too much, my love; now it’s my turn,” you said with a mischievous smile, feeling the anticipation build between the two of you.

Gently, you began to slide down his length, enjoying the sensation that filled you as you settled in. The mix of pleasure and power enveloped you, and a moan of satisfaction escaped your lips as you felt him completely inside you. It was a perfect moment, the balance between the desired and the forbidden.

Chrollo closed his eyes, his head thrown back as he enjoyed the feeling of you moving on top of him. “God… you’re amazing,” he murmured, but it wasn’t enough; you wanted more.

You began to move up and down, setting a steady rhythm that allowed you to enjoy every inch of him. The friction was intoxicating, and you felt his every movement sync with yours, creating an intimate dance between the two of you.

“Just like that…” you whispered, letting out a moan as your hips moved harder. Waves of pleasure coursed through your body, and you clung to his chest as you increased your speed. Chrollo looked at you with a mix of adoration and need, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his voice husky as he gave himself over completely to the pleasure you were giving him. Each of his moans urged you on, to lose yourself in the moment. “Don’t stop…”

With a soft laugh, you moved harder, taking advantage of his submission and enjoying the feeling of control. “I have no intention of doing so, love,” you replied, letting the pleasure take over you.

Your hips moved faster, the need for both of you reaching a climax that seemed inevitable. With one of your hands, you found your way to his throat, squeezing lightly. The way his eyes widened, surprised but pleased, made you smile.

“You like it like this, baby?” you asked in a soft voice, as the pressure increased, keeping him on the edge of euphoria. Chrollo nodded, unable to form words, his ragged breathing telling you everything you needed to know.

The mix of pleasure and control filled you with euphoria, and as your movements became more intense, you felt his body react to every caress. “You’re mine,” you said in a possessive tone, enjoying his submission.

Chrollo let out a deep moan, his hips thrusting up to meet you. “Give me more… please…” he begged, his eyes fixed on you, filled with desire. The way he gave himself to you, without reservation, only fueled your desire to make him feel better and better.

“You were good for me, so you deserve to cum,” you said with a playful smile, feeling his body respond to your words. The intensity of the connection between you increased as you moved with more fervor, enjoying every second of it.

“Thank you…” Chrollo murmured, his voice shaking as you held him a little tighter on your throat. You could feel the pressure building inside him, and his surrender filled you with pride.

“Focus on the pleasure,” you ordered softly, increasing the speed of your movements. “I want you to feel every part of me.” His moans became louder, echoing in the room and fueling your desire to take him to the edge.

As you moved, you could see his body tense, the anticipation on his face only intensifying what you felt. “You’re close already, aren’t you?” you asked, enjoying the control you had over him.

“Yes… I can’t… anymore…” Chrollo admitted, his hips thrusting back into you, seeking that long-awaited climax.

“Then let yourself go, love. I want you to give yourself over completely,” you said in a seductive tone, enjoying the way he gave in to you. One last thrust, and you felt his body shudder, his pleasure erupting in a wave of satisfaction as he came, flooding you with shared sensations.

You could feel the spurts staining your rubbery walls, an intense sensation that made you moan as the pleasure built up inside you. Every pulse of his body, every drop of his release, only fueled your own desire. You moved your hips a little more, chasing your own orgasm, enjoying the connection between your bodies.

“That’s it, baby,” you whispered, squeezing his throat a little more as your movements became more frantic. “Let me feel you, I want all this pleasure to belong to me.” His eyes closed, enjoying the mix of control and desire you shared.

Chrollo moaned, his breathy sounds filling the room as you continued your dance. “Don’t stop…” he managed to say, his voice a whisper filled with need. Each time you tightened your grip on his throat, you felt his body react, bringing you closer to that climax you so longed for.

With one last thrust, you increased the speed and intensity of your movements, feeling the pleasure build up in your abdomen. “I’m going to…” you barely managed to say, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over you as you finally gave in, reaching your own orgasm.

The explosion of sensations was overwhelming, a torrent of pleasure enveloping your being.

Chrollo broke the ropes with ease, taking your hips and letting you fall beneath him. His gaze lit up with a predatory smile that sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s my turn now, baby, and I don’t think you can handle it,” he said, his voice soft but laden with dark desire. “But you’ll be a good whore for daddy.”

A shiver of anticipation ran through your body as you felt his weight on you. The way he looked at you, as if you were his prey, fueled the spark of lust burning within you.

“You really think that?” you challenged, though deep down you knew the night was just beginning. Chrollo leaned into you, his breath hot against your skin. “Yes, I do. I know you too well.”

With a swift movement, he caught you with one hand on your wrist, holding you in place as his hips pressed against yours. The mix of control and desire made you feel alive, completely at his mercy.

“I’m going to make you scream, baby,” he promised, his dark eyes shining with the intensity of his desire. It surprised you, but a part of you rejoiced in the promise of what was to come.

#chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo smut #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #kinktober #—demensrage.

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soulaires · 1 year ago

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 7 Evil Exes ™️ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

main pairing: Aaron Warner x f!reader

synopsis: Aaron Warner is not sure about many things, but he is sure as hell that he can be a better boyfriend than your exes.

content warnings: modern au, jealous Aaron Warner, bisexual reader, hinted one-sided rivalry (if u squint enough), use of y/n, profanities, making out, kissing, playgirl!reader, swear words, pining, slow burn..

« words: 17,899 (I know. I KNOW.) ┇ao3┇wattpad┇ reblogs appreciated! »

🪩:: voicemail; read my other aaron warner fics here.

authors note: It’s finally here!!! Please let me know your opinion or what you think about this!! Love you alll 🫶 I suggest reading it in ao3 btw, it’s much more easier imo andd not beta read sorry.

PRESENT. (2040)

Aaron Warner Doesn’t Get Jealous. (Or that’s the lie he keep telling at himself for the past few years)

He’s not really someone who got jealous, I mean, what would a man like him be jealous of?

Jealousy, in Warner’s meticulous worldview, was an emotion akin to unruly chaos. It required an admission of vulnerability, an acknowledgment that something, or in this case, someone, held the power to disrupt the carefully constructed equilibrium of his life. It was a sentiment he considered beneath him, beneath the carefully honed image of composure he projected to the world.

He was Aaron Warner, unflinching and composed. Jealousy required acknowledging vulnerabilities that he refused to expose. He has always prided himself on his unyielding control, the ironclad grip he maintained on every aspect of his life.

Yet, there were moments, like the one he was currently experiencing, that threatened his carefully constructed facade.

The party was in full swing, the atmosphere vibrant and charged. Laughter and music filled the air, and Warner stood amidst the throng of people, a glass of whiskey in hand. As he stood in the corner of the room, glaring daggers at the scene of you and kenji dancing in the middle of the dance floor, Warner could not deny the storm of emotions brewing within him.

He took a sip of his whiskey, his refined taste for the finer things momentarily overshadowed by the fire igniting in his chest. He had been observing the situation with detachment, or so he had tried to convince himself.

Yet, each chuckle that escaped your lips, every shy smile directed at that interloper, seemed to slice through his veneer of indifference like a dagger. Warner’s green eyes narrowed as he watched you, dissecting every nuance of the encounter. He saw the way your hair fell just so across your shoulders, the way your eyes sparkled with genuine amusement. And then, there was that touch – innocent, yes, but it still sent tendrils of anger curling around his heart, grip tightening around the glass cup.

“You alright there, Warner?” A voice chimed in, interrupting his train of thoughts. It was Nazeera, her observant eyes noticing the situation.

“Perfectly,” he replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you.

Nazeera followed his line of sight and smirked. “Ah, I see. Jealousy does not suit you, Warner.”

Warner’s jaw clenched. “I am not jealous.”

Nazeera raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Jealousy requires emotions, which you find terribly unrefined. But as you stand here, glaring at the sight of poor y/n and kenji who’s unwittingly— or should I say unwillingly caught your ire, I’d say you are feeling downright murderous.”

Warner’s irritation flared. “I assure you, I’m simply observing. Run along.”

Nazeera chuckled knowingly. “Right, observing with the intensity of a hawk about to swoop down on its prey.”

Warner’s eyes flickered to her, irritation now can be seen at his face “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely” she replied, her grin widening. “But don’t fret, Warner. Jealousy happens to the best of us, even those who pride themselves on being unemotional”

Aaron only huffs in response. He took another sip of his whiskey, his gaze drifting back to you. Nazeera only watches him with amusement.

“They were supposed to be broken up,” he said, breaking the silence and now looki— no, glaring fire and daggers at Kenji.

“And why do you care?” Juliette Ferrars appeared, arms linked in with none other than Adam Kent who is smirking, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding in his eyes.

Nazeera smiled mischievously. “Yes, Warner, why do you care?” Aaron rolled his eyes taking a long gulp of his whiskey.

Why did he care?

Aaron Warner really had nothing against your past lovers—He simply believed that they all don’t deserve you and that he thought that he would fit in so much better in their place.

He could be a better boyfriend than all of them.

You see, You had what Aaron Warner liked to call 7 Evil Exes, except some of them were not really evil and some of them were not really exes. but that is what he likes to call them and a secret he clung to in the privacy of his mind.

Nazeera Ibrahim.

New Years Day Party, Circa 2035.

It was New Year’s Day, Aaron’s father had forced him again to come to a party with his business partners to celebrate.

As he entered the ballroom where the teenagers who were also dragged along by their parents were hanging out, Warner heard you and nazeera's loud, booming, and obnoxious laugh.

Recently, there hadn’t been a time when Aaron was with Nazeera that you weren’t accompanying them. And perhaps, if Aaron did not have such a terrible time making friends, he might not have ended up spending as much time hanging along with Nazeera Ibrahim.

The opulent ballroom was ablaze with twinkling chandeliers and a sea of elegantly dressed individuals. It was the kind of event that drew the city’s elite, where the power plays of the wealthy and influential were disguised behind smiles and clinking glasses.

Aaron Warner, however, had always found such gatherings a tiresome spectacle. Tonight was no different.

“Double A,” a voice chimed in, it was none other than Kenji Kishimoto. Warner hated that nickname and most especially kishimoto. “Upset that your rival is not giving you any attention?” He teased. “Go away.” Warner replied as he took a drink to his wine.

“In case you haven't noticed, this is a party – a gathering designed for enjoyment, y’know.” Warner only rolled his eyes in response , “I’m aware. Get out.”

“What’s with the face, sour patch? It’s New Year’s Eve, are you really starting your year with a brooding face? How boring”

“Go. Away.” He warned. Kenji only huffs in response as he leaves.

“Oh look who we have here,” you suddenly said behind Warner. “What are you doing here at the corner?” You stated. “None of your business.” He replied, bored.

“You are no fun, Aaron.” Oh God. “Fun might not be my forte then.” Warner said, sarcasm visible to his voice.

“You chat like a full-on adult – did you clock that?” You mumbled. Clearly not sober, you speaking to him and being ‘nice’ kinda give it away.

“Why aren’t you out there having a blast with us?” you prodded Warner’s arm. ”Why? You all seem to be enjoying yourselves just fine. Nazeera is,” Aaron murmured to himself.

“You do realize that we consider you a friend too, right? It is not just Nazeera.”

“When was the last time I spent time with you without Nazeera around?” Warner said, harshly. “I am not your friend, l/n.” He continued. “Oh, definitely not. But you are the biggest asshole I know.” You said teasingly as you laughed.

God. He kinda hates you.

“Oh, why thank you” Warner replied as he gave you a mocking smile. You only roll your eyes in response and leave, which is a dismay to Aaron.

He had been content in his corner, a place where he could observe without being observed, where he could distance himself from the shallow conversations and frivolous indulgence.

But his decision to leave his little corner had now made him an unwilling witness to a scene that mirrored a teenage sleepover rather than a high-society event, now he was an unwilling witness to the spectacle unfolding, a circle of friends, a bottle spinning, and raucous laughter as it determined the next victim.

It was all so juvenile, so beneath him. He didn’t care. No, he really did not. He exhaled a silent sigh, his eyes scanning the crowd. That’s when he saw you – a flash of mischief in your eyes as you joined the circle.

A mix of anticipation and amusement danced across your features, and for a moment, Aaron found his gaze inexplicably drawn to you.

The bottle pointed at you, and you met his gaze with a mix of anticipation and mischief. He couldn’t help but notice how your smile was brighter tonight, your eyes alight with the shared secrets of the game.

The bottle spun, slowly losing momentum before finally settling.

Nazeera.

The bottle had chosen Nazeera Ibrahim, and Aaron could not help but feel his gut tighten. Nazeera, with her quick wit and unapologetic charm, leaned in and brushed her lips against yours. The room erupted into cheers, the celebration of a simple, harmless act. Aaron downed the rest of his whiskey, his facade barely holding as he looked away.

He did not care. No, he really didn’t. It was a game, a meaningless gesture, and his rational mind understood that. But as he watched you and Nazeera exchange a knowing smile, a spark of anger flared within him, and he was left grappling with an unsettling truth he refused to acknowledge.

The room's energy was infectious, intoxicating, and it stirred something within him he had long suppressed. He downed the rest of his whiskey, its warmth barely soothing the tension in his chest.

___

The party continued, the spectacle of the game morphing into a dance of bodies and laughter. Aaron moved through the crowd with his usual grace, exchanging pleasantries and polite smiles. As the night waned, the festivities evolved into a more intimate gathering. Aaron found himself once again near the circle, his eyes discreetly observing.

His attention was drawn back to you – your laughter, your smile, the easy camaraderie you shared with those around you. And that spark of anger, the one he had tried to suppress, grew stronger.

The noise seemed to fade around him as he stood there, his thoughts a tempest of confusion and contradiction. He had been adamant that he did not care, that he was above the trivialities of the game. Yet, as he looked at you, a realization began to crystallize.

It was not about the kiss.

His internal debate was disrupted when Nazeera approached him, her gaze sharp and perceptive. ”What's eating at you, Warner?”

He gave her a sidelong glance, his features carefully composed. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

She chuckled, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize when something’s bothering you.”

He met her gaze, his voice firm. “It’s none of your concern, Ibrahim.”

She leaned in, her voice a whisper that held a hint of teasing. “You know, it’s okay to be bothered by something, even if you pretend otherwise. You don’t fool me, Aaron Warner.”

With that, she walked away, leaving Aaron to wrestle with the turmoil within him. He moved to a quieter corner of the room, his thoughts a tumultuous storm.

He didn't care. He couldn’t care.

That was the narrative he had woven for himself. But as he stood there, surrounded by the fading echoes of laughter and celebration, the truth began to claw at him.

The anger he felt wasn’t directed at the kiss itself, but at the fact that he had been forced to witness it.

Yeah, he definitely does hate you.

PRESENT.

Warner would not lie; there was a point when he disliked his friend.

It irked him how she was always stuck by your side, hated her for being your first kiss, hated her for the fact that she kissed you, hated her.

And he also hated you for being all nice and friendly, making him feel like he belonged like he’s included, but then turning around and acting like he did not exist. It made him think you chose Nazeera over him in some weird way.

The memory of it was a bitter pill to swallow. Now, he’s watching as Nazeera wrapped her arms around your waist, your laughter intermingling with the music, kishimoto no longer in sight.

Aaron’s jaw clenched as Nazeera’s touch lingered, her fingers grazing your skin.

Then you turned around, your arms snaking around Nazeera’s neck, hugging her from behind. The sight of your intimate embrace, the way your top lifted to reveal a hint of skin, stirred something in him that he could not quite name. He looked away, his irritation magnified by the laughter of Juliette and Adam, who were thoroughly entertained by his discomfort.

“Hey, Warner, you’re missing quite the show,” Juliette teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He forced a half-hearted smile, his gaze avoiding the dance floor. “I’ve seen better.”

Adam chuckled, clapping a hand on Warner’s shoulder. “Come on, man, don’t be such a killjoy. Live a little.” Warner only shoved his hand from his shoulder making Adam and Juliette laugh.

Their voices fell deaf on his ears as his attention was drawn back to you and Nazeera. The two of you seemed lost in your own world.

Warner pressed his lips together, his gaze fixed ahead with an air of annoyance. Even though Nazeera was this kind of ex-but-not-really, he still saw her as one of them. It was not jealousy, not exactly, but Nazeera’s striking resemblance to you made things pretty complicated. You and Nazeera seemed like two sides of the same coin on occasions.

Warner could not help but entertain the thoughts that he might have been a better choice for a first kiss – not that he was particularly yearning for that, though. Kissing you? no way, that would be way too crazy. It was completely out of the question. That was just a wild and outlandish notion, but…

Aaron Warner sure would have been a better first kiss.

But that’s only his own personal opinion. He genuinely has no real interest in it, none whatsoever.

He didn’t really care about you anyway.

Zayden Knox.

Is meeting someone just once and deciding that you already and absolutely loathe them too early? Because Warner was and had already decided he hated Zayden Knox. And if he had to endure another moment in his company, he was fairly certain he might spontaneously combust.

Zayden Knox. Your first Boyfriend. Tall, platinum blond, rich, narcissistic, undoubtedly entitled, and worse, he was dating you. Warner was going to vomit.

Warner could not fathom what you saw in him, what qualities Knox possessed that could warrant your affection? You guys had completed a month of dating – a month that felt like an eternity for Warner.

Aaron scowled as he recalled the incident when Zayden had deliberately taken the seat next to Warner, claiming he wanted to meet your 'cousin'. Cousin.

Warner had left the scene without exchanging a single word.

That was the moment he had decided to loathe Zayden Knox with a burning passion.

The infuriating part was that Zayden had nothing to do with Warner’s feelings for you. It wasn’t a matter of jealousy, or wanting to be in Knox’s place. It was the simple fact that Zayden grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

If Nazeera was a mirror image of you in some respects, Zayden was the polar opposite. He didn’t share your interests, your values, or seemingly any of your virtues.

Warner had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes whenever Zayden spoke, which was far too often. Zayden's conversations were self-centered topics that Warner found utterly infuriating.

Worse yet, he had heard Zayden mock the very things you enjoyed with an air of superiority that made Warner’s blood boil.

He literally did not care about what you liked and even trash-talked the stuff you enjoyed. Knox was shallow and annoying, he seemed like the last person you’d click with. So, the big question was, why did you pick Zayden Knox? Warner could not wrap his head around it.

What the hell had led you to choose someone like Zayden Knox as your first boyfriend?

That was the question Warner couldn’t answer, the puzzle he couldn’t solve. He had witnessed you laugh, engage in meaningful discussions, and show kindness to those around you. Zayden, on the other hand, seemed to be the embodiment of insincerity.

He can be a much better choice.

He can be your first boyfriend yet you have chosen someone who can’t even listen to you talking about the things you adored. Maybe that’s why every time he saw You and Knox in the hallways you guys were kissing and not talking.

___

Halloween Party, Circa 2037.

The Halloween party was in full swing, the mansion adorned with eerie decorations and the air thick with laughter and music. Aaron Warner, His costume was a nod to his own enigmatic aura – dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored suit, reminiscent of the dark, powerful figures from classic films.

It was as if he had embraced the idea of embodying his own enigma, using it to further distance himself from the joviality around him. He stood near the grand staircase, observing the masquerade of guests with his signature air of detached amusement.

He had begrudgingly agreed to attend this event, knowing that it was an opportunity for him to judge rich people’s choice of clothes. His attention, however, kept gravitating towards the entrance, his gaze settling on the crowd as the guests flowed in.

And then he saw you, (with Zayden Knox beside you, which Warner has completely ignored.) a vision of mischief and charm, you entered like a phantom, a vision of allure and danger wrapped in an enigma.

The black dress clung to your curves, the fabric flowing like liquid silk with each step she took. The dress itself was simple in design, yet its effect was anything but a slit up at your thigh, a dagger can be seen that it’s attached to your thighs, a fake gun was holstered at your side, a prop that lent authenticity to your costume of an assassin. Your hair cascaded down your shoulders in loose waves.

The corner of his lips twitched into an almost imperceptible smirk – he had to admit that you had a talent for making an impression.

As the night wore on, he found himself content with his role as an observer. People mingled, danced, and indulged, all while he remained the enigmatic figure lurking in the shadows. He could feel their gazes on him, curious and speculative, their conversations likely rife with speculation about his motives and intentions.

The clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of chatter formed a backdrop to his thoughts, and he did not notice when you approached. It wasn’t until your voice cut through the noise that he turned his attention to you, his expression a mix of mild irritation and genuine intrigue.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the formidable Aaron Warner,” you purred, your tone laced with both taunting and undeniable magnetism.

He arched an eyebrow, a rare hint of amusement ghosting his features. ”And here I thought Halloween was a time for costumes, not insults.”

You chuckled, your laughter infectious even in the midst of the lingering tension. “Oh, but Aaron, don’t you know? Insults are my specialty, no matter the occasion.”

He couldn’t help but be drawn into the banter, “and here I was, hoping for a break from the usual.” He shot back.

“Well, I couldn’t help it. Are you trying to blend into the darkness tonight?” you quipped, your tone laced with a playful challenge.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze meeting yours, “you could say I’m embracing the ambiance.”

“Well, you’re certainly nailing the brooding loner aesthetic.”

Warner resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his lips quirking into a half-smile. ”I’m touched by your assessment,” you only smirk in response. “Why don’t you go run along now.” He continued, more of a statement than a question.

You gasped dramatically, a hand pressed to your heart in feigned hurt. “Wow, eager to get rid of me, Warner? I’m hurt. I thought we had something special!”

Your sarcasm was like a well-practiced melody, each word dripping with playful mockery. You even went so far as to dramatically wipe away non-existent tears from your eyes, the theatricality of the action earning a faint smile from him.

“Never, love.” his tone laced with a mock seriousness that matched your theatrics. You chuckled in response, pink blush coloring your cheeks. Huh. Cute.

“I’ll stay here for awhile, it’s suffocating out there.” you said.

Warner’s eyebrow arched slightly, “Won’t your date miss you?” there’s something in his tone that you couldn’t quite understand.

You met his gaze, ”If I cared about that, I would not be here.”

What? Warner raised an eyebrow, curiosity now visible to his face, “Touché.”

There was a charged silence between you, the tension hovering in the air. The air was heavy with an unspoken tension, a weight that seemed to settle between you as if begging to be addressed. The world around you continued to swirl, the party continued with fancy extravagance that sharply stands out from the complicated feelings brewing underneath.

Finally, Warner turned to you, putting an end to the silence. He blurted out, “Why are you dating Knox?” The question escaped him without restraint.

“What? Why?” Your response seemed defensive.

“He is… just nothing like you,” Warner shrugged dismissively as if he didn’t care. And he didn’t, at least that’s what he believed.

You looked at the landscape beyond the open window, nibbling on your lip. “You know, my friends have been saying the same thing,” you admitted cautiously. Then you turned back to him, looking deeply into his green eyes. Oh God.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always.”

“I don't like Zayden, not at all,” you finally said, your voice a blend of confidence and vulnerability. There was a quiet honesty in your words, a confession that seemed to hang in the air like a delicate secret.

Warner's brow furrowed, his gaze fixed on you as he processed your words. ”Like you said, he‘s not really my type.”

The uttered and unspoken meanings of the words hovered between you. Warner’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he’d been trying to solve.

“oh.” he managed, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and realization. “Then why are you dating him?”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, he saw something in your gaze – a flicker of hesitation, a glint of regret. “Everyone around me is dating, and it makes me feel like I’m falling behind, and Zayden was right there and... I don’t like him at all.”

You didn’t like him. You didn’t like Zayden Knox. Well, now it all made a lot more sense.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his usually sharp mind suddenly feeling a bit scattered. The revelation hit him with an unexpected force, stirring up emotions he hadn’t anticipated. It was strange how he felt relieved.

“You're dating him because you felt pressured,” Warner summarized, his voice quieter than usual, laced with an understanding that bordered on empathy.

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. “Mhm. It sounds silly when I say it out loud, but it's true. I thought if I had a boyfriend, it would make me feel like I'm on the same page as everyone else.”

Warner studied your profile, the soft curve of your features illuminated by the gentle moonlight. “I understand that feeling,” he admitted, his tone almost hesitant. “The pressure to conform, to fit in. It’s a powerful force.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “You do?”

He offered a small smile. “Perhaps more than you think. People always assume certain things about me, and sometimes it’s easier to just play along.” There was a shared understanding between you now, a connection that went beyond the surface.

Warner took a deep breath and spoke with a sincerity that surprised even himself.

“Y/N, you are not falling behind,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “You’re not defined by whether or not you are dating someone. You are young, you’ve got time with you. Besides, love is not just romantical, you can find love in everyday things. It's okay to want and crave it but just because you don’t have it right now doesn’t mean there is something wrong with you.”

Your gaze held his, a mixture of gratitude and contemplation shining in your eyes. “Thank you, Aaron.” He only offered a small smile in return.

“You should get back.” he pointed back to the ballroom.

“Right, they must be finding me right now.” you replied.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” You smiled at him and winked. You winked at him. You winked. Good god.

Not a week after that, you broke up with your first boyfriend.

Zayden Knox was the ex that Warner forgot about the most, to be honest. It was not that he didn't notice the end of your relationship; it was just that Zayden seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by other exes that have captured Warner's wrath far more significantly.

Really, anyone would make a better first partner, maybe even him. Warner believes he’d be a way better choice for your first boyfriend, honestly.

The first ones aren’t always all that great, but they have the potential to be, if Aaron Warner was your first.

Astrid Rhodes.

Valentine’s Day, Circa 2038.

Valentine's Day had dawned, and a sense of whimsical romance filled the air. In the heart of someone's abnormally giant garden, a mini tea party event had been set up. The lush greenery and delicate blooms formed the perfect backdrop for the occasion. As the sun's warm embrace bathed the garden, laughter and chatter floated on the breeze.

Among the attendees was Aaron Warner, a figure that commanded attention without seeking it. He entered the garden with a nonchalant stride, his sharp gaze sweeping across the scene. The air was filled with the delicate clinking of teacups and the gentle hum of conversations. But amid the crowd, what managed to escape Warner's notice initially was you.

There you were, sitting on a blanket spread out on the grass, amidst the vivid colors of nature. Your lips were locked in a kiss with a raven-haired girl. The sight hit Warner with an unexpected intensity, igniting a sensation he was quick to suppress.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” a voice spoke behind him, Juliette ferrars. Warner turned to find Ferrars at his side. Her knowing gaze bore into him. Warner stayed silent, a deliberate choice to avoid admitting that there might be a connection between him and you. He grasped the reality that acknowledging it would trap him in that emotion, and he was determined to avoid that outcome. So, denial it was.

“Is that what you two always tell yourself?” Another voice joined in, it was Nazeera. Of course it had to be her. The question took Warner and Juliette completely by surprise.

Warner and Juliette exchanged a glance, bewildered by Nazeera's statement. They turned to follow her gaze, only to realize that she was now looking at you and the raven-haired girl.

“Her name is Astrid Rhodes,” Nazeera informed them, her tone matter-of-fact. “They’ve been seeing each other for about a week now, but trust me, it doesn't carry any weight.”

“I didn’t ask.” Warner's retort was sharp, laced with a hint of sass. Ferrars only scoffed. what?

Nazeera, however, remained unperturbed by their reactions, her gaze still fixed on you. “Y/N is simply exploring something with Rhodes, an experiment of sorts. Nothing serious.” she said as she ignored Warner completely.

Juliette sighed in defeat.

Oh. oh. Jesus Christ.

“You like her?” Warner shot Juliette a look that ferrars can’t comprehend as he questioned her.

“And what about it?” Ferrars replied, as she raised her eyebrows, taunting warner.

“Oh, come now, Ferrars. Don’t pretend you don’t understand the significance of such a question.” Warner responded.

“Significance? Please enlighten me, Warner. I'm all ears.” Juliette said, looking rather annoyed. Warner only ignored her, leaving the scene as he sat on a chair in the less crowded space. Unfortunately for him, Ibrahim and Ferrars have followed him, taking seats beside him. So, God help me.

“I only like her. It’s different from being in love with her, nazeera.” Ferrars stated as she sat in front of him, nazeera scoffed, “sure, j” Ibrahim remarked, clearly not believing ferrars. “I’m being serious! I don’t love her, I can’t.” Ferrars defended herself, stupidly.

“Are you saying you've never felt anything remotely close to affection, Ferrars?” Warner retorted, “Oh, please. Don’t make this about me, Warner. We’re gonna discuss your sudden fascination.” Ferrars declared.

“Fascination, you say? I think you’re giving yourself too much credit. It's called observation.” Warner uttered coldly.

Juliette snorted, “Of course, because watching someone with such intensity is purely an observational exercise.”

"Exactly. Just like observing a laboratory experiment," Warner countered, “You know, with variables, hypotheses, and unexpected outcomes.”

“Ah, so y/n is an experiment now? What’s next? Are you going to write a research paper on her tendencies?” Juliette retorted quickly.

Warner chuckled, “Perhaps a series of articles, titled ‘The Curious Case of Y/N L/N’”

Before their jabs could continue, Nazeera intervened, her presence a stark interruption to their exchange.

“Could you two save the investigative journalism for later?” Nazeera quipped, a knowing smile curving her lips.

Warner and Juliette scowelled, both momentarily taken aback by Nazeera’s interruption. It was as if she could sense the undercurrents of their conversation.

“Something tells me you have more interesting things to discuss,” Nazeera continued, her gaze flickering toward you and Astrid Rhodes, who were still engrossed in their own world.

Warner’s jaw tightened slightly, his thoughts a tangled mess. Nazeera had a way of cutting through pretenses, of bringing the truth to light in a way that was both disconcerting and strangely refreshing. Juliette sighed, her defiance momentarily giving way to resignation.

“Why Don’t you tell me something about Rhodes so that I can properly despise her.” Juliette’s voice cut through, laced with a mix of bitterness and curiosity. Her words hung in the air like a challenge, Nazeera’s lips twitched, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. With a nod, she leaned back, ready to unravel the tapestry of Astrid Rhodes’ reputation.

“Ah, Astrid Rhodes,” Nazeera began, her tone carrying a mix of amusement and exasperation. “A name that triggers a range of emotions in anyone who’s had the displeasure of crossing paths with her.”

Juliette’s eyes bore into Nazeera, the desire for information evident in her gaze. Warner’s interest was piqued as well. Ibrahim keeps talking about Rhodes for the past few minutes.

Apparently, Astrid Rhodes is an absolute nightmare.

After Warner survived Zayden Knox’s awful personality and relationship with you, you started dating someone who’s a hundred times more annoying.

Astrid Rhodes. Hell, you never learn do you? It’s clear that Rhodes is not really a good choice to have someone as significant other. She was Toxic, Manipulative, gold digger, and most importantly a cheater. She has multiple allegations of cheating on her past lovers, which she constantly denies. Jesus Christ.

Warner entered a vacant room to get away from everyone for a moment, he was overwhelmed with everything. He saw the door swung open, finding you entering the very same room, you locked eyes with him, shocked.

“Hey, Aaron.” You greeted, taking a step in front of him.

“Hey yourself.” he replied, a smirk tugging his lips.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, while inspecting the room.

“To avoid everyone talking to me, they keep hovering over me. What about you?” Warner asked back, looking around the room.

“Taking a breather. Everyones being a bitch.” you replied, smirking down at warner.

“You know, You’re not as invincible as you think, Warner. One day, you’ll be knocked off your pedestal.” you added as you watched him stepping closer to you, the proximity between you both electric.

“And you think you're the one to do it?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the challenge in his eyes a dare you could not resist. “Watch me.”

His lips curved into a wicked smile, a glint of something more in his gaze. “Perhaps I will.”

“You know everyone keeps comparing me to you, it’s getting annoying, really” you suddenly said, starting a conversation so it won’t be awkward.

“Oh yeah?” Warner said, smirking. His eyes on you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

“Yeah—God, I hate you.” you muttered

“Say it again.” he countered and you feel like you are going insane. Oh My god.

“Would you love me to whisper it in your ears?” You teased back.

Warner was speechless. Aaron warner doesn’t get speechless—yet here he is. A comfortable silence settles between you two, The tension between you two crackled like electricity. As your teasing reached its crescendo, a moment of silence suddenly settled over you guys. The heated exchange had given way to an unexpected pause, and your eyes met his. In that unguarded second, the tension shifted from amusement to something else entirely.

“Aaron?” you questioned, noticing his silence.

“You gotta stop doing that.” he mumbled.

“doing what?”

Saying things that makes me want to kiss you.

Silence.

Warner found himself drawn closer to you, a gravitational force he couldn’t resist. The background noise faded into a distant hum as he closed the physical gap between you and him, only a meter away. The playful glint in his eyes had transformed into something more primal, more intimate. He’s now looking at your eyes then to your lips.

God, He wanted to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you over and over again. Hell, he was going insane. Do people normally lose their mind like this?

He couldn’t fight again. He couldn’t. If you kissed him right then and there he wouldn’t be able to do anything but kiss you back. And he’s afraid that he won’t be able to stop.

So Warner did the imaginable. He cupped the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. With that, he cupped your cheeks, green eyes drawing to yours, he shooed some hair strands from your face.

Aaron can’t breathe. It’s like you have stolen every oxygen he has.

You put your hands to his waist, and it was over.

So, he kissed you. He kissed you. Without warning, without permission, without thinking. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn’t have done anything else. He had to grab back the breath you were holding. It belonged to him, and he wanted it back.

The kiss began to get more heated as he grabbed your waist and pulled you in close. Your hands wandered his back as he grasped at you. He kissed you and you kept kissing him back. Before giving you a calm kiss on the neck, Warner’s mouth lingered over your skin. He might even taste your skin. In his case, it was needed.

He needed to do it, and he was not going to leave the room until he had. He deepened his kiss by wetting your flesh. With the knowledge that it would leave a mark, he sucked and held it between his teeth.

It was also what he longed for since it was his only opportunity to be with you. With every whisper and every plea that you made for him, he felt the skin of your throat vibrate.

After a while, you guys pulled apart, stunned looks visible to each other. He saw the mark on your neck and he couldn’t help but feel proud about it. A hickey on your neck. And it was him. Aaron Warner who had done it.

He had tasted your skin.

Warner opened his mouth to speak but he quickly closed it, unable to form some words to his mouth.

“Aaron-” You started but Warner was quick to shut you up by raising his index finger.

“Don’t say anything.” he told you with a sorry eyes and he left.

He fucking left.

___

Never before have you experienced being so entirely consumed by a kiss. Suddenly, the void that existed between the two of you ruptures into a whirlwind of sensations. Warner’s heart skips its rhythmic beats; his hands desperately pull you closer, attempting to erase any remaining distance.

The taste of you on his lips is a revelation, making him aware of a profound hunger that had been gnawing at him. Though there have been previous kisses, none have ignited him with such an all-encompassing fire. The passage of time becomes a blurred concept—perhaps it’s a fleeting minute, or it could be an endless hour.

The only certainty is the memory of that kiss, the gentle caress of your skin against his, and the realization that, even without prior knowledge, he has been longing for this very moment throughout eternity.

Kissing You is like getting struck a million times by lightning. The way our lips initially brush before melting together has a thrilling intensity. His ears are able to hear the beat of your heart.

His stomach’s begging fire keeps burning hot and boldly, seeping through layers of muscle radiating heat off his skin. It burns inside him like a forest fire and radiates the aroma of sin and the sanctuary.

In contrast, every breath taken by you; the person whose lips taste like sea salt and fresh snow causes his lungs to fill with water, causing him to be drowned helplessly.

As consuming as it is, Aaron Warner’s primal desires carve a divide between you and harsher traits. He becomes a pristine canvas under your touch, molded by your influence, and he has never been this close to God before.

He knows a religion and God has no use to people like him, but God, you are a temple and He is a sinner in need somewhere to worship.

He feels your soul entangle and untangle an endless cataclysmic cycle as both of your tongues engage in a wedding dance, sending him to the highest of highs and sending him drifting

down,

down.

Down into a glorious drop.

He is sent into a stupor by your hands because they are destitute and devouring. His desires, deceitfully sweet, stain his clothing with sin and sweetness Warner welcomes the waves with all the lightning, fire, drowning, and heaven-and-hell he can muster despite the waves getting rougher and calmer with each passing minute.

Aaron Warner is at your mercy.

___

Weeks goes by since the kiss happened on Valentines day, warner has found himself thinking about you than a normal person would be. Now, he’s strutting down the hallways of the school and then, he sees You and Astrid Rhodes. She was sucking at your neck. He tightened his lips and left the scene quickly.

However, he couldn’t help but believe Astrid Rhodes wasn’t worthy of tasting your skin.

No, not at all.

___

Warner have decided to hate Astrid Rhodes with burning passion. The way she always flirt with other people despite having a situation-ship with you, the way she have always used your name in her needs, the way she asked for your money, the way she manipulates you, the way she mock you behind your back and the way that she always swear in every word she ever uttered. It’s like she’s a kid who learned a new word that she keeps using.

Praying for Astrid Rhodes’ downfall is not enough, he needed to participate in it.

So, Warner took things into his hands.

As Astrid’s accusatory words sliced through the charged atmosphere, Warner’s gaze remained unyielding, a calm facade masking the tumultuous storm beneath. Her reaction was expected – after all, he had just confronted her about something he had witnessed, something that had ignited the flames of his determination to expose the truth.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Warner!?” She shouted at him, voice rose with anger. “You are fucking crazy, stop making up things you fucker” Rhodes continued. Warner has caught her making out with someone, and apparently Rhodes did not take it well when he told her that he’s going to tell you of what he saw.

“Does that make you feel better?” Warner said, bored eyes clear on his face.

“Excuse me?” Astrid furrowed her eyebrows.

“Cursing. Is it an essential component you can’t live without? The constant repetition of those crude and vulgar language in every sentence you utter is truly unbearable.” Warner’s voice speaks so confidently as he towers over Rhodes, whose eyes filled with rage.

“You know, Y/N does not like people who swear a lot. I’m sure she will break up with you sooner or later, no doubt.”

The palpable tension in the room hung heavy, almost suffocating, as Aaron Warner faced Astrid Rhodes with an intensity that matched the burning passion he felt within. There was no denying the ire that had taken root in his heart, festering with each of Astrid’s actions that grated on his nerves like sandpaper against his skin.

Astrid’s eyes sparked with a mixture of fury and defiance, her nostrils flaring as her fists clenched at her sides.

“Oh, so you're the judge of what's insufferable now?” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “Is that your new role in this little drama?”

Warner’s expression remained unflinching, his gaze piercing through the chaos of their exchange. “It’s merely an observation,” he replied calmly. "And observations tend to highlight patterns. In your case, it’s the pattern of manipulation, profanity, and disrespect."

Astrid's eyes blazed with a fire that matched her fiery words. “And why the fuck do you care, Warner? It’s not your life, your relationship, your problem. So, fuck off.”

Warner's lips curved into a knowing smile, a spark of challenge in his eyes. “Oh, but that’s where you’re mistaken, Astrid. It has become my problem when it involves someone who’s… family’s close to mine.”

The air between them crackled with tension, his words hanging in the space between them like a charged current. Astrid’s posture wavered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she straightened herself, her defense mechanisms snapping back into place.

“Y/N doesn't need you fighting her battles, Warner,” Astrid retorted, her tone dripping with disdain. “If she hasn’t noticed your chivalrous efforts by now, maybe it’s time to accept that you're not the hero she’s been waiting for.”

Warner’s gaze remained unwavering, his voice tinged with a mixture of resolve and frustration. “Maybe it’s time for you to understand that genuine care doesn’t require fanfare, Rhodes. And maybe it’s time for you to grasp that the person you're manipulating and using deserves better than this.”

Astrid’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and disbelief, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “You don't know anything about us, Warner.” Warner leaned in slightly, his voice a low, deliberate murmur. “I know enough to see through the facade. I know enough to recognize when someone is taking advantage of someone else’s kindness.”

Astrid's laughter was bitter, a sound that resonated with a hint of desperation. “You’re so damn self-righteous, aren’t you? Acting as if you’re the hero of your own story, here to save the day.”

Warner’s expression was unyielding, his words measured and unwavering. “I’m not here to be a hero, Rhodes. I’m here to ensure that someone isn't being hurt by someone who claims to care about them.”

The silence that followed hung thick in the air, a poignant reminder of the tangled emotions and complex dynamics at play. Warner’s gaze never wavered, his stance unyielding as he awaited Astrid’s response.

Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with a mix of defiance and resignation.

“You’re deluded if you think you can change anything, Warner. Y/N will see through your charade sooner or later.”

Warner’s lips curved into a rueful smile, he laughed incredulously, making Rhodes look stupid. “That’s so much coming from you, hypocrite.”

As his words flew out of his mouth, the room felt heavy with the weight of tension. Astrid Rhodes stormed out after that.

___

A day after that, Warner heard a commotion outside the library, he heard a shout that he knew who the owner was as he had received the same one just yesterday, Astrid Rhodes. As he entered the common room, Warner got greeted by Astrid Rhodes shouting profanities, rude things, and accusing you of cheating on her. Warner couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Rhodes has the nerve and audacity, doesn’t she?

Choosing to remain inconspicuous, Warner settled into a quiet corner where he could observe the unfolding drama without drawing attention to himself. It seemed the entire room was aware that Astrid was weaving a web of lies, yet they were captivated by the scene as it played out. Glancing up at you, he noted your bored and unamused expression, flanked by friends who were shooting daggers at the girl.

“How could you fucking do this to me!? After all we’ve been through! You are so fucking unbelievable!” Rhodes shouted as she sobs at her hands.

Warner heard a few murmurs beside him.

“Damn she’s committed to this act, isn’t she?”

“Best actress goes to Astrid Rhodes!”

“Nah, this is wild. She have the fucking audacity it’s funny.”

“Do she expect everyone to believe her bullshit this time”

“She’s so bad at this shit. I’m out”

“People like her give theater kids a bad name.”

“Kudos to her for having the fucking nerve to pull a stunt like this ‘cause I would never”

“I’m done with you! We’re done, y/n. I’m never seeing you again.” Rhodes added, she has also added a few more insults and vulgar words. She looked at you expecting an answer.

Warner saw you sighed and put both of your hands to your lap as you stood up,

“Are you done with your theatratics now?”

You question with a monotone voice, laughter can be heard from few people.

Astrid only stared at you bewildered and ran outside the room while shut the door harshly. Everyone is now laughing while they gossip about what just happened.

“Alright, Show is over, everyone!” Kishimoto shouted.

Warner comes out of the corner, taking a step to you, “y/n?” He called out. Warner was sent with a curious look from everyone. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “care to join me outside?” You nodded as you followed Aaron Warner outside to go to the field.

“Well, that’s quite a funny show.” He started, you laughed at his statement.

“Yeah, we’ll, I’ve been expecting it, really” you said while laughing.

“Congratulations either way, you’re finally free from that psycho.” He said, green eyes looking at you once again, amused.

“Oh why thank you, dear.” You replied with the same tone he used.

“Honestly, I don’t know how she thought that would work,” you said with an incredulous shake of your head. “It was like watching a bad soap opera.”

Warner chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling. “I must admit, she’s not exactly the most convincing actress.”

“She should probably stick to other pursuits,” you added with a teasing grin.

“I agree. Perhaps she could take up interpretive dance or something equally entertaining,” Warner replied, a playful glint in his gaze.

You both shared a genuine laugh, silence then took over the air as you guys settled in a particular tree, you both took a seat to its shadow.

“Sooo…” you started, awkwardness settling the air.

Warner laughed at this. A smile took over his face and then you stopped laughing, noticing something in his face. Dimples. Aaron Warner has dimples. Oh sweet Jesus.

Warner took notice of this, “what’s wrong?” He asked. You shake your head as you drag your finger to poke at his dimples. Warner froze at this action, you took away your finger from his cheek as you looked away for a moment, feeling embarrassed.

“Sorry. Just noticed your dimples. It’s cute.” You started with rosy cheeks painted on your face.

“Yeah?” He asked smugly. Oh god this egotistical man. You only hummed in response.

Silence took over once again.

“So, are we gonna talk about what happened on Valentine’s Day?” You started once again. Warner however visibly froze at this.

“Listen, y/n, I apologize for my action, really. It was a mist-“ before he could finish his sentence you cut him with a question.

“Do you regret it?” You asked. Warner looked hesitant for a second before he opened his mouth.

“No. I didn’t.” In fact, he would do it over and over again if you would let him.

Warner opened his mouth to apologize again but you once again cut him off but this time, by kissing him.

You have kissed him. You have kissed Aaron Warner. You kissed him. And you keep kissing him.

Everything is now shattered.

Warner was surprised with this but he then went with it.

You then climbed up to his lap as he pulled you closer to him, hands now at your lower back and to your waist.

As your lips journeyed down the curve of his neck, Warner experienced a sensation akin to hot wax trailing over his skin. The heat of your touch left an indelible mark on his senses, searing a path that he longed to be etched into his very being. There was an urgency in his desire, a need for that imprint to be imprinted with a fervency that matched the fire igniting within him.

Every brush of your lips felt like a deliberate touch of molten heat, the intensity of your movements branding him in a way that transcended the physical realm. It was as though your touch held the power to carve a mark into his very soul, to leave an impression that would linger long after the moment had passed.

Warner's thoughts raced, the pounding of his heart matching the rhythm of your explorations. He found himself craving the sensation of your touch, yearning for it to leave a lasting reminder of this shared intimacy. He wanted more than just a fleeting connection – he wanted a testament, a symbol that would endure even when the fervor of the moment subsided.

In that instant, he realized that this was more than just a physical exchange. It was a declaration, a silent plea for permanence, a desire to mark this moment in a way that words could never encapsulate. The sensation of your lips against his skin was both an offering and a promise.

As your lips continued their descent, Warner surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotions surging within him. He allowed himself to be consumed by the heat of the moment, the fervent desire for a mark that would transcend the boundaries of time and space. He craved the sensation of your touch, the imprints of your presence on his skin serving as a tangible reminder of this shared vulnerability.

And as your lips met the juncture where his neck met his collarbone, a surge of longing coursed through him. He wanted this mark to be a testament to more than just physical desire – he wanted it to encapsulate the layers of emotion that had woven themselves into their complex dynamic.

In that moment, as your lips lingered against his skin, Warner felt a mixture of vulnerability and strength. He surrendered to the intensity of his desire, allowing it to consume him in a way he had never thought possible.

You both stayed like that for a while, not until Kishimoto's voice was heard calling your name from a distance. When you both pull away you guys have a red face and we’re breathing heavily.

As you walked away, Warner was left with the lingering heat of your touch, the mark you had left behind serving as a testament to the moment they had shared. And as he traced the invisible imprint with his fingertips. What just happened?

___

Week later, Astrid Rhodes got expelled from the school. The reason? No one knows.

Not long after that incident, Warner heard the most horrid thing ever known to a man the moment he heard that you began your very long and confusing on and off relationship with Kenji Kishimoto.

God damn it.

Juliette Ferrars.

You and Kishimoto broke up once again for the second time this year, a month in from your break up, you have a new girlfriend. The same can also be said from kishimoto.

He remembered very well that it was the day on March 21st when you announced your relationship with Juliette Ferrars. Juliette Bloody Ferrars. Juliette Perfect Ferrars. Your newest girlfriend.

Juliette was really a step up from Rhodes, everybody could agree on that.

Ferrars was gorgeous, ambitious, confident.

And she was extremely smart, Juliette Ferrars was the dream of any parents for their children. You even had taken her to meet your parents.

____

Juliette Ferrars Birthday Party,

May of 8th, Circa 2038.

The night was alive with the promise of celebration as he made his way to Ferrar’s birthday party. The stars above were scattered like diamonds across the velvety canvas of the sky, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and laughter. The venue glowed with twinkling fairy lights, casting a warm and inviting glow that welcomed all who approached.

As Warner walked up to the entrance, the sounds of music and chatter grew louder, creating a vibrant backdrop for the festivities. The door swung open, revealing a scene of merriment. Colorful decorations adorned the walls, and a table groaned under the weight of tantalizing treats and a towering birthday cake.

Warner stepped into the vibrant atmosphere of the party, the lively energy wrapping around him like a warm embrace. The chatter of friends catching up and the clinking of glasses created a harmonious symphony that echoed through the room. Balloons in a riot of colors hovered above, swaying gently as if dancing to the rhythm of the music.

As soon as he entered, he saw you.

Amidst the lively crowd, Warner’s eyes were drawn to you. There you were, amidst a whirlwind of movement, dancing with none other than the birthday girl, Juliette Ferrars. Your smile was a beacon of pure joy, radiating the kind of happiness that could light up the entire room. Warner’s heart seemed to skip a beat as he watched the two of you move in sync, the laughter on your lips infectious.

Juliette, with her graceful movements, complemented your dance perfectly. It was as if the two of you were lost in a world of your own, the surrounding party fading into the background. As soon as you twirl Ferrars around, you kiss her and when you pull away, you guys laugh, you look around the room and you’ve caught a familiar gorgeous green eyes. You smiled At Warner, about to wave at him but Ferrars caught you in another kiss.

It hit him like a knife to the heart. He hoped his face didn’t express the disappointment he felt.

Why does he feel like this?

He doesn’t care. He should not. Aaron keeps thinking the same dialogue over and over again in his head. He doesn’t care. He really didn't, So, he found himself in a mini bar drinking his bitterness away.

The soft glow of the bar’s neon sign beckoned like a warm beacon on a cool evening, the gentle hum of chatter and clinking glasses creating a comfortable backdrop. The air was thick with the aroma of various drinks, and the low murmur of conversations of the other guest beside him.

Settling onto a barstool, Warner ordered another one of his preferred drinks and watched as the bartender expertly mixed it. The clinking of ice cubes and the sound of liquid pouring were oddly soothing. God, he’s dru—no, just tipsy.

As Warner took another sip, a presence approached the bar. It was Ferrars. Hell, what would she want from him now? Parade her win? She slipped onto the stool beside him, a smile playing on her lips. “Well, well, fancy meeting you here.” Warner only hummed in response that made Ferrars scoff. He heard her ordered a drink for herself.

“Why don’t you join us outside, Warner? Instead of just sticking yourself in this bar.” Ferrars started as she took a sip of her drink after saying those words.

“This party is boring.” Warner said, plainly.

“This is my birthday party.” Juliette deadpanned.

“Oh, right.” Warner only received an eyebrow raise in response, expecting something from him. Hell.

“Happy birthday.” Warner said with a sarcastic and plain tone.

“Wow. Okay. Thank you.” Juliette says, “My lo—y/n talked about you.” Ferrars continued. Warner had caught the slipped up of the pet name. My love. Hell, Warner is gonna vomit.

“Only good ones I hope.” He replied as he took a sip to his drink.

“She told me The Camping Trip incident.” Juliette says as she laughed, recalling the story that you have told her.

Warner was surprised. “Oh that,” he chuckled, the memories flooding back. “We practically lived on marshmallows and terrible ghost stories.”

Ferrars laughed, her expression a mixture of fondness and amusement. “And that time you guys got lost in the woods, and you were convinced that you all were in some kind of Blair Witch scenario.” Warner scowled in response.

“Hey, it was dark, and those trees all look the same!” Warner reasoned. Juliette only laughed harder.

“Didn’t you try fighting a bear? Surely you can’t reason that stupid action.” She says as she looks at Warner, challenging him.

“I was young.” Warner defended himself. Juliette only hummed as she drank her glass.

“You were young and stupid, Aaron.” The next voice that sounded through the kitchen made Warner’s heart stop for a moment. Warner saw Ferrars go to you to link her arm through yours.

He needs another drink.

“Was I?” He countered with a smirk.

You laughed in return, mirroring his smirk.

“My darling, shall we dance? It will be midnight soon. My birthday would end in like 30 minutes.” Juliette said, looking between You and Warner with a frown.

“Oh, sure, love,” you kissed her lips and led her back to the party. Warner felt himself breathing again when you were out of sight.

____

In a matter of moments, Warner found himself aimlessly wandering through the sprawling house, Laughter echoed in the halls, intertwined with the gentle strains of music.

Every door he passed seemed to hold a couple engrossed in their own world, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sheer display of affection in hoping to discover a new vacant bathroom that wasn't occupied by overly affectionate couples lost in each other's company, as the party started to wind down, Warner found himself outside Juliette Ferrars room.

He was not intentionally eavesdropping, but the voices from inside were hard to ignore.

“It’s just... it’s complicated, okay?” your voice sounded frustrated.

“And I get that, but it feels like you are not fully here with me,” Juliette's voice responded, a blend of hurt and concern woven into her tone.

“And the way you looked at—” Juliette's voice trembled, and her words came to an abrupt halt, as if she were struggling to contain her emotions. Aaron paused, his gaze settling on the partially open door of Ferrars' bedroom.

Warner found himself in an inadvertent state of eavesdropping, his guilt mingling with his intrigue. The words exchanged between you and Juliette were raw and real, and he couldn't help but listen, drawn into the unguarded exchange.

“Juli, it’s not what you’re thinking,” you softly said.

“ Is it not?” she said. You guys were in the middle of the room, fighting if that is not clear enough.

“I thought-” she choked a bit. Voice trembling.

"Juls-"

"No, baby," Juliette responded, her tone unwavering, your emotions laid bare. “We were... I thought—“

A heavy pause followed, and Warner could almost feel the weight of the conversation. Warner hears ferrars sighs.

“you even let me met your parents, and I remember thinking that our future seemed fucking promising..”

“We still can—We still have that future.” you insist, determined.

Juliette let out a pained laugh.

“No, we don’t, because you have never looked at me the way you looked at him tonight.” Juliette’s voice trembled, revealing a vulnerability she rarely displayed. But despite that, she delivered the line harshly.

Warner's brows furrowed as he tried to piece together the puzzle. Who were you and Juliette talking about? He couldn't shake off the curiosity that gnawed at him, urging him to understand the source of your conflict.

Is it Kenji Kishimoto?

Warner’s curiosity got the better of him as he strained to hear the conversation. You guys were arguing about some 'him' , but the details were hazy. He couldn’t help but wonder who that ‘someone’ was.

“Please, just listen-” your voice was soft, a plea laced with frustration.

"You're not dishonest, my love," she interjected, her tone adopting a more tender and sweet quality. "Just tell me you prefer me, you choose me, you love me more than you love him. If you can, I'll put it all behind us. I will forget about it."

You went dead silent.

The silence that followed your response was deafening. Warner could practically feel the tension in the room, the unspoken emotions hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. It was as if a connection had snapped between you two, leaving behind a void that neither of you knew how to bridge

“I’m so sorry,” you finally whispered. The weight of your words is palpable.

Juliette sighed. Expecting the answer, Warner can see her holding down the sobs.

“Let’s just enjoy the rest of the party, shall we?” Ferrars voice was tinged in sadness. “We can talk about this later. Let's have a last dance.”

He swiftly turned away from the door, his steps quickening as he made his way down the hallway. He needed to retreat, to give you both the privacy you deserved. Warner got away quickly to the bathroom

Inside the bathroom, he washed his hands, his gaze lingering on his reflection in the mirror. Confusion knitted his brows together as he replayed the fragments of your conversation in his mind.

Were you guys talking about kishimoto?

The thought struck him like a jolt. Could it be that you were struggling to move on from him? The image of Kenji, charismatic and charming, filled Warner's thoughts, and he couldn't help but question the impact he had on your relationship with Juliette.

Is it because you just couldn’t get over him?

If you broke up with Juliette Perfect Ferrars because of Kenji Kishimoto, did anyone else have ever stood a chance with you?

Did he-No.

Warner wouldn’t think like that.

He should not care. It doesn’t concern him.

Warner shook his head, trying to dismiss the idea as he dried his hands. He refused to entertain thoughts that would only lead to unnecessary doubts and insecurities. But deep down, a nagging curiosity lingered—a curiosity that would drive him to madness and insanity.

Days later, Warner learned from Kent and Nazeera that you and Juliette had ended your relationship.

Few weeks after that revelation, news reached him that You and Kenji Kishimoto had gotten back together.

It was clear to him that you always gravitate back to kishimoto.

Killian Déicides.

The cycle has repeated once more—You and Kishimoto have broken up. Again. And months later, you have gotten yourself a new boyfriend. Killian Déicides.

It was the longest you had been apart from Kishimoto, nearly five months—not that Warner was counting.

During this period, Kishimoto had found himself a new girlfriend in the companionship of Nazeera Ibrahim, ushering in a new chapter of his own. The pairing had managed to raise eyebrows and ignite conversations, sparking intrigue among your shared circle from other people.

Apparently, you were okay with this. Which is something that surprised Warner. I mean, your ex-boyfriend is dating your best friend? And you’re fine with this? Ridiculous.

From a distance, he observed with a tinge of bitterness as you and Killian forged a bond. Every shared laugh, tender touch, and exchanged glance felt like a jab to his chest. The narrative of your relationship unfolded before him like a story he wished he could tear apart, but all he could do was watch as it progressed, unable to rewrite its course.

As he observed Killian, a critical eye analyzed his character, highlighting his perceived shortcomings and fueling his bitterness.

He hates him. Hates the way Déicides can feel your laugh against his lips, hates the way he can rest his forehead to yours and gaze to your eyes as much as he wants, hates that he can make you shiver from his touch, hates him.

Warner didn’t know why it bothers him so much, why it bothers him the way déicides whisper sweet nothings to your ears or the way he has you secured in his arms. It’s ridiculous.

Valentines Day, Circa 2039.

The day had draped itself in an air of romance, as couples nestled close to one another, entwined in the celebration of love. It was Valentine's Day, a day that Aaron Warner typically avoided with fervor. Yet here he was, standing alone on the terrace by the garden, attempting to escape the saccharine atmosphere that permeated the place and some insufferable couples. (you and Killian to be exact.)

From his point of view, he could see the couples—some nestled on the couches, the field, library, others dancing under the soft glow of string lights. It was an annoying sight.

He leaned against the terrace railing, gazing out at the garden below. The sun cast a warm sheen over the blossoms, giving the scenery a dreamlike quality. The peace and quiet were a welcome respite from the relentless cheerfulness that had filled the school’s interior.

Yet, the serenity was short-lived. The soft pad of footsteps interrupted the stillness, and a voice spoke up from behind him.

"Valentine's should be about going out and making out with some strangers, y'know."

Startled, Warner turned to find you standing there, a small smile playing on your lips as you joined him on the terrace. The surprise of your presence coupled with the lightness of your words momentarily rendered him speechless.

You stepped closer, your eyes scanning the garden as if searching for those elusive strangers "I mean, why waste it on being alone here when there are so many intriguing strangers out there for you to kiss?" Your tone was light, but there was a hint of mischief in your eyes.

Warner couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, his usual guard momentarily lowered in your presence. "I suppose you have a point," he conceded, allowing a smile to tug at the corner of his lips. "But then again, I've never been one for making out with strangers."

You laughed softly, the sound carrying a warmth that wrapped around his heart. "Fair enough," you replied, your gaze now focused on him. "So, what brings you to the terrace on this fine Valentine's Day?"

Warner glanced out at the garden, then back at you. "Just needed a breather," he admitted. "The whole lovey-dovey atmosphere inside was starting to feel suffocating."

You nodded in understanding, your eyes softening as they met him. "I get that," you said. "It can be a bit overwhelming, can't it?"

"More than a bit," Warner replied with a rueful smile. "But I suppose it's all in good fun for those who enjoy it."

You leaned against the terrace railing beside him, your shoulder brushing against his lightly. "True," you said, your voice quiet. "But sometimes, it's nice to have a quiet moment away from it all."

Warner couldn't agree more. As he looked at you, bathed in the soft glow of the sun’s warm light, he realized that this quiet moment with you was the best part of the day. He had always admired your ability to see beyond the surface, to appreciate the simple moments amidst the chaos.

A comfortable silence settled between you and him, broken only by the distant strains of music and laughter from inside. Warner found himself stealing glances at you, his heart aching with a longing he had buried deep within himself.

Finally, he couldn't contain it any longer. "You and Killian seem happy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your gaze turned to him, and you offered a small, genuine smile. "We are," you replied. "He's been wonderful."

Warner nodded, his eyes tracing the delicate features of your face. "I'm glad," he said, his words carrying a sincerity that surprised even him.

You looked at him for a moment, a knowing expression in your eyes. "But…" you prompted, your voice gentle.

Warner hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "But…?" He urged you,

”There are moments when I can't help but wonder what it would be like if things were different.”

You met his gaze steadily, your eyes filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored his own. "I know what you mean," Warner said softly.

The admission hung in the air between them, unspoken yet understood. Warner's heart swelled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Could there be a chance for something more, or was this moment destined to remain a fleeting glimpse into what could have been?

As if sensing his turmoil, you reached out and gently touched his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. The connection sent a jolt of warmth through him, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe," he said, his voice barely audible,

"Someday, things will be different."

You nodded, a sense of peace washing over you. “Someday,” you agreed, your heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

Together, you stood on the terrace, bathed in the soft glow of the sun, sharing a quiet moment that held the promise of something more—an unspoken hope for a future where the timing was right and love could flourish without barriers.

Until,,,

Warner's heart sank as he heard Killian's voice in the distance, calling your name. He watched as you turned around, your smile brightening as you waited for him to join you on the terrace.

In that moment, all of Warner's hopes and fantasies of having this day with you, just you, were shattered.

He had allowed himself to believe, just for a brief moment, that maybe this Valentine's Day could be different. That perhaps he could have had a chance to be the one by your side, sharing this quiet, intimate moment with you. But reality had a cruel way of reminding him.

As Killian approached, his arm slipping around your waist, It was a feeling he had grown accustomed to, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

You introduced Dèicides to Warner, the two men exchanging polite greetings. Warner forced a smile, concealing the tumult of emotions swirling within him. He couldn't let you or Killian see how much this moment had irritated him.

Warner watched, a pang of knife hitting him as you and Killian shared a tender kiss. His eyes couldn't help but linger on the intimate moment between the two of you.

"Why do you keep kissing me?" you asked, breaking the kiss and gazing into Killian's eyes.

"Because I love kissing you," Killian replied with a soft, affectionate smile.

So do I.

Damn me, So do I.

Warner thought, his mind betraying him in that vulnerable moment.

He felt a pang of aching, a surge of bitterness, but above all, he felt an overwhelming longing and desire.

Oh, what a person he has become.

I don’t want you to see who I have become. It’s bad, my love. It’s so bad.

He knew he shouldn't be feeling this way. You were with Déicides now. Warner turned away, his fists clenched at his sides, as he fought to suppress his emotions. He needed to remind himself that he should not care. It’s none of his business.

Warner excused himself, citing the need to rejoin the festivities inside. He couldn't bear to stay on the terrace any longer, not when it was now tainted with the knowledge that he would never have this day with you alone.

As he retreated into the dining hall, the sounds of laughter and celebration seemed distant and hollow. Warner found solace in the shadows, cherishing the bittersweet memory of that fleeting moment on the terrace—a moment he had desperately wished could have been his, and his alone.

For a moment there, Aaron Warner really thought he’d have this day with you. Only you.

He’s proven wrong yet again.

A month had passed since Valentine’s Day, Warner had done a pretty good job avoiding you and your boyfriend. But despite that, Warner couldn't help but notice the change in your relationship. He observed the way your interactions had shifted, like a puzzle piece that no longer fit quite right. There was an undercurrent of insecurity in your touches, and the kisses that once landed on the lips were now exchanged on the cheeks. Your stolen glances lacked the usual warmth and affection, replaced by something more guarded.

The change in your dynamics didn't go unnoticed by the people around you. Whispers and rumors began to circulate throughout the school, with everyone speculating about what had gone wrong this time. Even Kent, who rarely spoke to either you or Killian, had developed his own theories, all of them far from the truth.

Warner found himself torn between the desire to reach out and ask if you were okay and the understanding that he had no right to intrude on your relationship with Killian. He couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that twisted in his chest when he saw you with someone else, even though he had no claim over you.

One day, as he was walking through the school courtyard, Warner overheard a group of students discussing your relationship.

"I heard they've been fighting a lot lately," one girl said, her voice hushed.

"Really? What about?" another girl asked.

"I don't know, but it's not the same as it used to be. They used to be so lovey-dovey, and now they barely even hold hands," the first girl replied.

Warner continued walking, trying to drown out the conversation.

It annoys to hear others talking about you, dissecting your relationship as if it were a gossip column. But he couldn't deny that he was also curious about what had caused the shift between you and Killian.

A week later, news began to spread throughout the school like wildfire: Killian Déicides had transferred to another school. The reasons behind his departure remained a mystery to most, but the end of your relationship with him was clear. The whispers and rumors that had once surrounded you and Killian now shifted to the breakup, and it seemed like everyone had something to say about it.

Aaron Warner couldn't ignore the news, even though he had been trying to keep his distance. It was impossible not to feel a mixture of sympathy and concern for you, knowing that you were going through a difficult time.

One evening, as he was wandering the school grounds, Warner found himself drawn to the astronomy tower. It was a quiet and secluded spot, far away from the prying eyes and gossip of the other students. He climbed the steps and pushed open the door, finding you standing by one of the telescopes, gazing up at the night sky.

You looked up as he entered, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. Warner's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, and all thoughts of staying away flew out of his mind.

“Can I hold you close?” He quietly asked.

You blinked once, twice—thrice, it takes a full seconds to process what he had said.

“Oh, I’m so—“

“Of course, you can.”

Now, it’s his turn to blink. You laughed at the sight.

Warner simply walked over and enveloped you in a warm, comforting hug. You buried your face in his chest, and he could feel your tears dampening his shirt.

You didn't say anything, and neither did he. You don’t have to say anything. You know Warner is also fluent in silence as much as you are.

He didn't need to ask what had happened; the news of Killian's departure had spread quickly, and he could only imagine how you must be feeling. Instead, he held you tightly, offering silent support and understanding.

After a while, when your tears had subsided, Warner gently pulled away, his hands resting on your shoulders. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of concern and compassion.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, your voice barely more than a whisper. "No, I'm not."

Warner nodded, his expression filled with empathy. He didn't press for details; he knew that sometimes, all you needed was someone to be there for you. He reached out and wiped away a stray tear from your cheek.

"It's okay not to be okay," he said gently. "And you don't have to go through this alone."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, and it warmed his heart. Warner knew that he couldn't fix everything, but he could be there for you in this moment of vulnerability.

As you both stood in the quiet of the astronomy tower, Warner continued to offer his support. He listened as you talked about your feelings, your frustrations, and your uncertainties about the future. He didn't offer empty reassurances or quick fixes; instead, he let you express yourself, knowing that sometimes, that was all you needed.

After a while, Warner spoke up “I mean, who needs him anyway?” He said, trying to make the atmosphere lighter.

To be fair, Aaron’s perspective on you and Killian’s break up are extremely biased because he only heard one side of the story.

“Yeah, fuck him and his stupid excuses. I don’t need him anyway.” You agreed as you laughed with warner. Dimples.

If you ever fall to your knees, you are sure Nazeera would be there to kneel beside you.

If you get lost in the woods or drowns In the ocean, you are sure that Juliette and Kenji will do whatever it takes to find you and bring you back to the surface.

And if you return to Aaron Warner with a broken heart, you are sure that he will piece them back together with his bare hands—even going out his way to fill in the gaps with his own.

“Right,” he mutters as he watches the whole sky through your eyes. “You have me, at least.” Warner added.

“No,” you correct Aaron, “thank all the gods I have you. Always.”

___

3 weeks after that, You and Kenji Kishimoto have gotten back together.

You always come back to kenji.

You always come back to kishimoto even when you have other (better) options.

Kenji Kishimoto.

PRESENT.

Out of every Exes you ever had, Aaron Warner, has always found himself praying for Kenji Kishimoto’s downfall more.

It was messy. Warner knows it. Hell, even the parents know that you and Kishimoto have a complicated relationship. You guys would break up and then boom, months later you guys are back together.

It was an annoying sight. In all 3 years you and kishimoto are together, there would be no year where you and him have never broken up then getting back together after a few months in.

Kent and Ferrars have decided to join the dance, leaving Warner on his own. Warner quickly found a couch he could sit on. He’s now reading some magazines that were on the table.

“Warner, fancy seeing you here,” a voice drawled, its arrogance evident even in the casual greeting.

Warner’s eyes flicked up from the magazine he had been pretending to read, meeting Kishimoto’s gaze with a thinly veiled look of indifference.

“Kishimoto.” Warner greeted.

Kenji leaned against a nearby wall, his posture casual and infuriatingly confident. “Please, Don’t let me interrupt your reading session, blondie.”

Warner closed the magazine, his patience waning.

”What do you want, Kishimoto?”

Kishimoto lips curled into a smug smile, his gaze holding a glint of something that irked Warner.

“I just thought we could have a little chat.”

Warner's eyes narrowed, his tone terse. “I highly doubt we have anything to discuss.”

Kishimoto chuckled, unfazed by Warner’s obvious disdain. “You know, Blondie, it’s fascinating how much you seem to dislike me.”

Warner's jaw clenched, his voice icy. “How Observant of you.”

Kenji's smile widened, his amusement unwavering.

“Tell me, is it because you’re jealous? You know, you’ve never been one to shy away from competition.”

Warner’s restraint wavered, his temper simmering beneath the surface. ”You’re sorely mistaken if you think I see you as competition.”

Kenji's expression shifted, a flash of something that seemed almost like amusement mixed with genuine curiosity. “Then what is it, Warner? Why do you hate me so much?”

Warner’s gaze hardened, his voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt. “You have nothing to do with me, kishimoto. My opinions on you are of no consequence.”

Kenji's gaze held Warner's, the unspoken tension hanging heavy between them. With a sigh, he took a seat in front of Warner. “You’re not very good at pretending, you know.”

Warner's brows furrowed in confusion at the unexpected statement. “Pretending? What are you talking about?”

Kenji leaned back, his posture relaxed. “You can't stand the fact that we've got a history, can you?”

Warner's irritation flared. “History? You mean the endless cycle of dramatic reunions?”

Kenji chuckled. “Exactly. And you hate it, don't you? You hate that there's a part of her life that doesn’t revolve around you.”

Warner's frustration grew, his voice edged with a sharpness. “You're delusional if you think I'm hung up on that.”

Kenji's gaze never wavered, his tone softening slightly.

“You love her.” Kenji said, more of a statement than a question.

Warner laughed with the absurdity, “I’m not in love with her,” he said, “Don't read into things you know nothing about.” Warner Added with a mockery tone.

“Oh, I know more than you think.” Kishimoto said with a smirk.

“Do you ever shut up?” Warner countered back, as he leaned back at his chair.

“Not when it comes to you, asshole.” Kishimoto shot back as he copied Warner's previous action.

“I’m not in the mood to play games with you, kishimoto.” He warned.

Kishimoto only laughed, “are you ever?” He mused making Warner roll his eyes, “besides it’s not a game, it’s just facts.”

“Your interpretation of facts is seriously twisted,” Warner hissed, his voice edged with exasperation.

Kenji's lips curled into an infuriatingly smug smile. “Deny it all you want, but deep down, you know it's true.”

Warner's green eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in frustration. “Just stay out of my way.”

Kenji's laughter echoed off the walls. “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“You're pushing your luck, Kishimoto,” Warner warned through gritted teeth.

Kenji's gaze remained steady, unyielding. “Or maybe I'm pushing your buttons.”

Warner's patience was wearing thin. “You're not as clever as you think.”

Kenji's grin only widened. “Oh, I'm clever enough to see through your act.”

“I have no act, just disdain for you.”

Kenji's retort came quick and smug. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Their words clashed like swords, each one determined not to back down.

“Are you ever serious?”

Kenji's tone held an undertone of mockery. “Why so serious, Warner?”

“I'm warning you,” Warner growled, his patience on the edge.

Kenji's eyebrows lifted playfully. “Are you now? What are you going to do about it?”

“You're impossible.”

Kenji's lips quirked into a knowing smirk. “Impossible to ignore, maybe?”

Warner shook his head in disbelief. “Why can't you just leave me alone?”

Kenji's smile remained infuriatingly intact. “Because I enjoy getting under your skin.”

“You're deluded.”

Kenji's expression turned contemplative. “Am I? Or am I the one who's seeing things clearly?”

Warner's frustration was nearing its peak. “Enough, Kishimoto.”

Kenji's voice dropped slightly, a glint of something more sincere in his eyes. “So you understand what I'm trying to say?”

Warner's response was sharp, laced with a mixture of irritation and disdain. “I understand you enough to know I don't like you.”

Kenji's grin was unabated. “And yet, here we are, having a lovely chat.”

Warner's patience was dwindling, his words laced with finality. “Just go away, Kishimoto.”

Silence.

Kishimoto's laughter rang out as he playfully positioned himself by Warner's side. Despite Aaron's attempt to evade, Kenji's agility won out. With a swift movement, Kenji caught Warner's chin, tilting his face in the direction where you stood.

“How about admitting that y/n might have feelings for you?” Kenji quipped, his tone light but suggestive.

Warner didn’t have to admit it. Because he already knew.

Warner shooed Kishimoto’s arm as he leaned himself in, still looking at you.

This, however, did not go unnoticed by kenji.

“I’m not in love with her.” Kenji recalled warners words to his head, but he saw it in warners eyes, the way he looked at you (like right now) it was full of admiration and devotion.

“Aaron is just a friend, kenj” Kenji Remembers the way you assured him, but he saw the way you looked at your feet and turned your eyes away from him to hide the truth.

Everyone could see it. Kenji can see it.

The way Aaron Warners name rolled off your soft lips like a sweet honey,

The way Warner looked at you like it’s his first time seeing the sun,

The way your name rolled out of his tongue as if it’s a prayer.

Full of devotion.

Kenji is sure that Warner could make a religion out of the way your name sits on his tongue.

Kenji’s thoughts were abruptes by Warner who now stood up and clearly went to the terrace.

Of course, Kenji followed him.

“You need to leave me alone.” Warner exhaled.

“Nah, Let’s talk.”

“We already did.”

“Not enough. Let’s talk about you and y/n’s making out sessions.”

Warner froze, he’s surprised. Of course kishimoto would know.

“y/n always tells you everything, huh?” He breathed out.

Ah, of course, you slipped out of his arms, opting instead to trail after Kenji. The plan was to fill him in on the recent exchange – a typical move in your playbook. After all, you and Kenji had an established rhythm: breaking up only to inevitably find your way back together, rendering the current situation a temporary blip on the radar.

That was the pattern, until the next breakup.

“Only the things that actually mattered, I assume,” Kishimoto responded, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness. “You know, Honesty is the key to a good and healthy relationship.”

“You guys are far from a healthy relationship.” Warner told kenji.

“And you think you guys have?” Kenji shots back.

“We don’t have any relationship.” Warner uttered.

“Could have.” Kenji's voice turned softer, almost a whisper.

The words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning.

“You were supposed to be broken up.”

A sly smile curved Kenji's lips. “Ah, you would love that, wouldn’t you, Warner?”

Halloween Party, Circa 2039.

3 years. 3 long years. Where You and Kenji were in an on and off relationship. Never so long together, let alone apart. And Aaron Warner couldn’t understand how. How Kenji saw you with other people when you guys were broken up and was fine with that. And how he managed to be with other people with you just right there.

It was messy. He knows it. Things got complicated when Kenji decided to date a friend of yours, but that cooled down.

Warner now found himself in a hallway, once again, eavesdropping on You and Kishimoto’s fight. He didn’t mean it to be in this kind of situation but here he is.

“I’m tired, y/n.” Warner heard Kenji’s voice coming from inside the room. Warner was silent so as not to disturb the couple and also because he was very curious to know what was going on between them.

“It’s the same fucking talk all over aga—”

“And you don’t think I’m not tired too!? ” you cut him off, shouting. You guys were silent for a while, the tension was thick, it was almost suffocating him. So, Warner left.

Hours later, Warner found you on the terrace, your gaze lost in the starry night. He leaned against the open door frame, the soft glow from the terrace lights casting gentle shadows on your face. He smiled warmly at you.

"What's on your mind, dove?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle you.

You turned your head, surprise flickering across your features before a smile graced your lips. "Things," you replied simply, though the weight of your unspoken thoughts was evident.

"Can I join you?" Warner asked, his voice gentle.

"Always," you replied, your smile growing warmer.

Warner stepped out onto the terrace, the cool night air brushing against his skin. He settled beside you, both of you gazing out at the peaceful night sky.

"You look miserable," he observed quietly.

You chuckled softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I feel like it, too."

Warner couldn't help but laugh along with you. "Well, I'm here to keep you company, for what it's worth."

"Thank you, Aaron," you said sincerely, your eyes filled with gratitude.

"Of course," he replied, his gaze never leaving you.

There was a comfortable silence between you, the tranquility of the night providing a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

The evening air was cool, and the stars twinkled in the night sky as you and Warner stood on the balcony, the distant sounds of laughter and music from the party below drifting up to you. It had been a night of celebration, but now, in this quiet moment alone, it felt like the perfect opportunity to speak your mind.

"Aaron, can I tell you a secret?" you finally ventured.

"Always," he responded, his tone warm and reassuring.

You took a deep breath before continuing. "Me and Kenji have been broken up since June."

Warner was hardly surprised by your confession. He had observed the signs, the strained interactions between you and Kenji. Yet, hearing it from your own lips somehow made it feel more real.

"Me and him decided not to tell anyone because we know everyone is getting tired of our bullshit," you continued, your voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecating humor.

Warner shifted his gaze to the starlit sky, his thoughts racing. He wanted to say something comforting, something that would ease the burden you were carrying, but the words eluded him.

"It's nobody's business," he finally said, his voice gentle yet supportive.

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had lifted from your shoulders.

"Soon enough, you guys will get back together. You always do," Warner replied, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

You sighed, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. "That's the problem. I think we are done for good. Finally hitted the rock bottom."

Warner shifted slightly closer to you, your faces now mere inches apart. The soft glow from the terrace lights illuminated the anticipation in both your eyes.

"Aaron," you whispered, your breath brushing against his lips. "Kiss me."

"Kiss me, Aaron Warner."

Time seemed to stand still as you gazed into each other's eyes, the tension between you palpable. But Warner, paralyzed by his own uncertainty, remained frozen.

A few seconds later, you both heard Kenji's voice calling out your name from a distance. Warner reluctantly moved away, a mixture of longing and regret in his eyes.

"Your boyfriend's here," he said, his voice strained.

You nodded, swallowing the disappointment that welled up within you.

At the moment, you achingly wished for him to just please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving you. But of course, Warner turned and walked away, leaving you on the terrace, your heart heavy with unspoken words and unanswered desires.

As you watched him go, you couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if he had kissed you, if you had both taken that leap of faith. But for now, the timing was not in your favor, and you were left with the lingering ache of what could have been.

As Warner walked away, he harshly bumped into Kenji, not looking at him or saying sorry. He had made a decision, not a smart one. But he had made a decision and he’s already regretting it.

After the Halloween party, by Christmas, you and kenji Kishimoto are officially back together. Again.

You will and always come back to him.

Even when everyone thought (even him) you were never going to come back to him, you did. You always do and will.

___

PRESENT.

As Warner recalled the memory, he couldn't help it but echoed Kenji's question to his mind.

You would love that wouldn’t you, Warner?

“Very much so.” Warner finally admitted.

“Ohh fucking finally. Now, tell me why? What’s the reason?” Kenji dared to ask as he teased him, pushing his buttons more.

“Because none of you all deserved her.” Warner said what he had been swallowing all these years.

Nazeera didn't deserve to be your first kiss. Zayden Knox didn't deserve to be your first boyfriend. Killian Déicides didn't deserve the time he had with you. Surely Astrid Rhodes didn't deserve to have touched you. Juliette Ferrars, who didn't even fight for you. And Kenji fucking Kishimoto, who had you again, and again, and again. And as always, he without fail let you slip through his fingers.

“Wow, okay,” Kenji smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Do you think I'm the one who's breaking up with her? Most of the time, it's always the other way around. If someone is breaking someone's heart, it's her, not me,” he continued, exhaling a puff of smoke. “I'm serious. It might look like I'm the heartbreaker, but it's really her. I'm not trashing her or anything.”

Warner was taken aback. None of this made sense. Could it be that a year ago, on this very day, you had wanted more than just a momentary distraction because you missed Kenji? You had wanted him, and he hadn't wanted you back. He had let you slip away, just like those he had criticized and hated.

“No,” Warner muttered, struggling to find the right words to defend you even though he knew deep inside it was right. He will always be ready to defend your honor, and always ready to reshape the reality of if you were in the wrong just so you can always be right. That’s what he had been doing for the past years.

Kenji took another drag from his cigarette, considering Warner's words. “Anyway, Y/N and I are done for good. We really can’t keep doing this for another year,” he said, his tone solemn.

"Really?" Warner asked, his heart racing in his chest.

Kenji nodded. “Yup. This year was the worst of our relationship, even though it was the one we spent the most time together.”

Kenji sighed, reflecting on your and his relationship complicated history. “I think we've always found comfort in each other, you know? It's like the memories and the time we spent with each other are what we really hold onto, not our relationship. But despite that, we'll always care for each other.”

Kenji gave a knowing look and added, “Nothing will change that.” He said as if it’s a warning to Aaron.

Warner couldn't help but ask, "Why now?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Kenji took a final drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. “Because we need to move forward, to let go,” he said, shrugging. “Because she's finally ready to fight for you, That's what I came to tell you.”

Warner's eyes widened, disbelief washing over him. "We have nothing to fight for," he replied, although it was a lie.

Kenji smiled knowingly. “You should admit it, Warner. If not to Y/N, at least to yourself.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Warner alone with his thoughts.

"Damn him," Warner muttered under his breath, a mix of frustration and longing in his heart.

Aaron Warner.

PRESENT.

He despised them all, there was no denying it. That's what it had come down to.

He acknowledged that the sensation churning in the depths of his stomach was a mixture of hatred and jealousy directed at your former partners. It had apparently been festering there for an extended period, steadily intensifying, and waiting for him to acknowledge it, or for him to stop pretending. It was time for him to face the truth. He was head over heels in love with you, and the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

That he, Aaron Warner Anderson, was completely, foolishly and totally in love with you.

One year ago, on this very day, he had possibly squandered his chances with you. He couldn't help but wonder if he had allowed himself to kiss you that night, could it have altered the course of our lives? We might have celebrated a year together today, an entire year with you.

Warner shut his eyes tightly, just as he had done on that fateful night. He knew better than to dwell on the past, to chase shadows that had long slipped through his grasp. It was a futile endeavor.

His infatuation with you had started when he was just fifteen. He had witnessed your first kiss with one of his friends, and ever since that moment, an empty feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach.

When you had started dating Zayden Knox, Warner couldn't fathom why you had chosen him. He found Zayden shallow and irritating, far from the ideal partner for someone as exceptional as you.

Astrid Rhodes, in Warner's eyes, was entirely undeserving of your presence. He could hardly stand the thought of her sharing the same air as you.

Your on-and-off relationship with Kenji had only intensified Warner's inner longing and turmoil. You broke up countless times, only to reunite even more frequently. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that drove him to the brink of insanity.

Juliette Ferrars, kind and lovely as she was, could not escape Warner's disdain. The sole reason for his animosity was that she had been your girlfriend.

Then there was the matter of Killian, who had never truly desired you, yet had somehow managed to possess you. That had stoked the fires of Warner's resentment even further.

But most of all, Aaron Warner, despised himself. He was utterly foolish for not realizing his feelings for you sooner. He loathed himself for pretending that he wasn't in love with you for more than six agonizing years.

With each passing day, the emptiness in the pit of his stomach grew, a void that could only be filled with one thing—action. He had become his own worst enemy, too afraid to confront his feelings.

It was time for Warner to face the truth. He couldn't continue this way, allowing the hatred to consume him. It was time to break free from the shackles of his own fears and let his feelings be known.

But how? How could he convey this whirlwind of emotions to you? How could he bridge the chasm that separated them, a chasm of his own making?

Warner found himself wandering through the memories of those moments he had witnessed you with others. He remembered the first time he saw you kiss someone, the way his heart ached as he watched from the shadows.

And then there was Zayden Knox, the one he couldn't stand. Warner couldn't fathom why you had chosen him as your partner. He had always believed you deserved so much more.

Astrid Rhodes, a name that brought a sour taste to his mouth. She had never deserved to bask in your radiant presence. Warner had always felt she was unworthy of you.

Kenji, the source of endless heartache. Your on-again, off-again relationship had driven Warner to the brink of madness. The constant separation and reunion had been a torment he couldn't escape.

Juliette Ferrars, a kind soul, but Warner couldn't help but find flaws in her when it came to her being your girlfriend. He couldn't shake the irrational jealousy that reared its head whenever he thought of her.

Killian, who had never truly valued you, had held you in his grasp. It was a wound that festered, fueling his resentment.

And then, in the midst of all these emotions, Warner realized the crux of the matter. He was the one he despised the most. He had let fear control him, and in doing so, he had let you slip through his fingers.

As he contemplated his inner turmoil, Warner knew that he had to find a way to confront his feelings. He couldn't let his love for you remain a silent, unspoken truth. The time had come to break free from the grip of his own insecurities and tell you how he felt.

Warner couldn’t keep this hidden any longer. The weight of his unspoken affection had grown unbearable, and he needed to act. He had to find a way to communicate his love for you, and he couldn't let fear stand in his way any longer.

His heart aches for words he never had a chance to say. He had to find you, to speak to you, to lay his heart bare.

After what felt like eternity, he spotted you across the room. You were engaged in conversation with nazeera and juliette., your smile lighting up the room. Aaron could not tear his eyes away from you, captivated by your presence.

With determination, he wove his way through the lively gathering, his eyes never leaving you. The chatter around him faded into a distant hum as he approached.

Finally, he stood before you, and you turned to him, a warm smile curving your lips. The party continued around you, but in that instant, it was as if everything had come to a standstill.

”Y/N,” Aaron began, “Can I have a talk with you, please?” He asked you, his request hung between the both of you.

You watched him, your eyes filled with curiosity. “Of course, Aaron. Let’s find a quieter place to talk.” you suggested, your voice soft and encouraging. You knew there was something on his mind, and you wanted to hear it.

With a nod, He took your hand, and together you navigated your way through onto a terrace that overlooked the city. The noise from the party gradually faded, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of the night.

As you stepped onto the terrace, the city’s twinkling lights spread out before you, creating a breathtaking backdrop for your conversation. You found a secluded corner and settled.

He took a deep breath and locked eyes with you. “Y/N,” he began again, his voice steady, “Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, and a flashback came into your mind.

The words hung in the air, a heavy pause that seemed to stretch on. The party continued to surge around you, but at this moment, it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Always,” you said, your voice filled with warmth.

He took a deep breath, his words heavy with emotion. “I’m in love with you.”

“Aaron.” you said.

“I am,” he said. He was staring at you. “I love you. I have been trying to find a word that is something deep and coherent to represent my devotion to you. I wish there was something better than I love you. I really love you. And I want to find out what that means together.” He breathed out.

"Aaron." You said again. Not knowing what else to say.

“And If home is a person, I’d gladly rush at the end of every day to you always, towards you. I carry your name everywhere I go, even when you are not around to hear it called. I recite it like a prayer. You are excruciatingly tender and it happens to be the only language I speak besides devotion,”

Warner reached up to your chin and made you look at his eyes,

"Those eyes spoke to me long enough in a way words could never translate and God knows how I was breaking apart."

You are speechless. Absolutely speechless. You don’t know what to say, you looked him straight into the eyes.

He said it. Aaron Warner finally said it. After those years, he finally told you. And God, he loves you in the same way we’ve drawn meaning from stars placed conveniently beside each other and established faiths out of constellations. Aaron Warner badly wants to carve your name out of stars.

The confession hung in the air, a profound declaration that reverberated through your soul. You reached out and gently touched his hand, a silent reassurance that you were there with him.

But before you could reply, he interrupted you. “Please,” he implored, desperation clear in his voice. “Please ask me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you asked, “Ask you what, Aaron?”

His eyes pleaded with you, and he stepped closer. “Ask me again to kiss you,” he said, his desperation visible to his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat as the weight of his words sank in. You had long wondered about his feelings, and now he had confessed his love. But his plea for you to ask him to kiss you revealed the depth of his desire. You could see the depth of his longing, the yearning he had held back for so long. It was a silent plea.

The world seemed to hold its breath as t And then, The city's lights shimmered in the background as you leaned in, and your lips met in a passionate, heartfelt kiss. It was a moment of surrender, a union of two hearts that had been entwined in secrecy for far too long.

Aaron is still panting from the intense kiss, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as he stares at you with a love-struck gaze.

You reach up and gently caress his cheek, feeling your own heart fluttering as you look into his eyes.

He smiles softly at you and leans in to press his forehead against yours, still feeling overcome by the passion and intensity of the moment.

“You have been driving me to madness, my love.” He says.

“Oh please, I haven’t even been around you enough to drive you mad!” You defended.

“The idea of you then.” He said, as you reach for another kiss.

“Mhm, no more evil exes..” Warner whispers.

“What?” You confusedly asked but was shut down as Warner pulled you in a kiss.

A few moments later, you share a small giggle together, feeling the tension dissipate into a calm but blissful state.

It’s over. He finally won.

(Aaron Warner) tag list 🏷 : @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan

+ @reminiscentreader @mrswifeyscoleman @kaileyn-everdeen @marlygee @hazzassmirk @myloveforreading @khaleesihavilliard @etheriaaly @reapers-lover @corpsedoll777 @dahliawarner @addiessblack @i-amtitania @timhalamet @butterfly-lover @scarz-xo @rippahwrites @elijahssuit @s0urw00lf @rifran @iamsatansoul @tqrgvryen

If you wanna be added to my official A.W. Tag list plz lmk!!! 💗

#reader insert #shatter me #shatter me series #aaron warner x reader #aaron warner #aaron warner x you #aaron warner anderson #kenji kishimoto #nazeera ibrahim #juliette ferrars #Adam Kent #original characters #fem!reader #pining #oc x reader #riewrites 🫀

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dark-and-kawaii · 8 months ago

Note

Okay but what are some HCs for Zevlor Raphael and Haarlep and what they like in bed 👉👈

୨♡୧ What They Enjoy ୨♡୧

18+

Zevlor - Haarlep - Raphael

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: I could go on for hours about this because honestly it depends on all their moods!! But here’s what I have today!!

⋆˙⟡♡ Choking | Love | Toys | Breeding | Bed Breaking

Zevlor

The tiefling gives off switch vibes. Zevlor is ready to fulfill your every plea whether it be him on top doming you or being a soft bottom. It's always about you, as Zevlor's main goal is to make you happy.

However, on those rare occasions when it's about him, it's usually because he's feeling a bit frustrated. But oh boy, once he takes full control over you, you better be prepared for a wild ride that will leave your bed in dire need of replacement. And don't be surprised if you find a delightful tail shaped bruise on your thigh or wrists, evidence of his firm grasp on you to keep you in place.

Prepare yourself for a shower of pet names and praise from Zevlor. You're his whole world, and he loves showering you with the sweetest of endearments. He'll worship your body like it's his personal temple, tracing his thumb over any imperfections on your flesh before expressing his deep appreciation for your beauty (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

Choking. He takes pleasure in lightly grabbing your neck, and sometimes his tail acts on its own, gently wrapping around your neck while you go down on him. And guess what? He absolutely adores it when you use his neck as leverage as you grind down onto his beautiful cock. It's a vulnerable position that he would never allow anyone else to put him in, but he trusts you with his life!

Now, if you're looking for Zevlor to be mean and degrading, you better buckle up because it'll take quite a bit of convincing. We're talking a lot of convincing here. But hey, if you push Aradin in front of Zevlor, that might just be enough to ignite that side of the tiefling and have him fulfill your desires for some deliciously mean treatment. In the moment he loves it, but afterwards he’ll always feel bad and express it on his face.

Zevlor's heart yearns for slow, passionate sex that ends with him creamping you. He wants to savor every moment with you, to truly feel and appreciate your connection before filling you with his potent seed.

When it comes to punishment, Zevlor is more of a gentle spanker. He can't bring himself to hurt you, as he cherishes your well being and wants to maintain a loving dynamic.

Biting and leaving small marks are Zevlor's guilty pleasures though! Will always leave them in places where you can easily hide them. He secretly loves the possessiveness and connection that comes with marking you as his lover.

Zevlor's fantasy involves engaging in intimate acts in semi-public places, the risk of potential discovery adding an extra layer of excitement for both of you.

And let's not forget Zevlor's deep need for a family. He absolutely has a breeding kink and dreams of building a future with you. Perhaps it's time to consider giving him what he’s been dreaming of *wink*!

Haarlep

Haarlep is a hardcore dom with an insatiable desire for control. It's just in their nature, but oh, how they adore it when that spark ignites within you and you take charge. The way you pleasure yourself to their body sends a thrilling chill up their spine, and you can always tell when Haarlep is happy by the telltale sign of their tail.

Now, i think we all know this but Haarlep is a true sadist. They derive pleasure from witnessing your tears, pushing you to the point of crying, begging, and whining. Your tears are a delectable treat for them, and they take delight in licking your messy face clean, relishing the taste of your salty tears against their tongue.

Edging and the use of degenerate names are Haarlep's specialties. They enjoy teasing you to the brink of release, denying you until you're a quivering mess beneath or atop of them. And when it comes to punishment, my dear, if you dare to challenge or provoke them, don't expect to find release that night. Haarlep knows how to discipline a brat and keep them in line.

Haarlep will degrade you until you’ve earned their praise, my dear *Winks*!

Haarlep absolutely loves fucking you in places where the risk of being caught is high. The scandal of the all powerful tav fucking a lowly incubus is so fun for Haarlep.

Toys, my dear, hold a special place in Haarlep's heart. They enjoy using anything they can find on you, pushing you to new limits. Love watching your stomach bulge with their tail.

Bondage, chains, gags, and the use of their tail are a must for them.

Choking, uh yeah! Prepare yourself because your neck will bear the marks of their hands and tail. The sight of your eyes rolling back and your mouth hanging open for precious air always sends Haarlep over the edge further, it’s intoxicating.

An ownership dynamic is something that Haarlep finds alluring. You’re theirs, right? No one else’s. Haarlep will always finds way to make this known.

Despite all this though, Haarlep does enjoy connection with you if you’re their little dove. Will pull you into their chest, entwine their fingers with yous, their tail curling around so limb of yours simply because you are theirs and they refuse to let you go.

Raphael

Switch, but he rather you do the work/ warm his cock and ride him while he’s sitting writing out a new contract/writing in his diary. He’s a man that enjoys a good performance after all.

Blood play & knife play. He has a fascination with your blood, finding it sexually arousing. Will use a gold dagger to create controlled cuts -especially on your inner thigh- before dragging his tongue against the wounds he inflicted. Period sex is totally fine with him.

Breeding kink. The devil is lonely, you’re his little mouse and he’ll make sure you remember this and make damn sure you’re stuck with him. Besides, having a little him around house hope doesn’t seem all that bad considering he can shape the little thing into a copy of him.

Possessive, scratching and bruising you gives him satisfaction. The devil is possessive by nature so marking you is a must no matter what. Enjoys scratching and bruising you till you’re begging him to stop, leaving visible reminders of his control and ownership.

Sadist as well as humiliation. Raphael fully embraces his sadistic nature, finding immense joy in inflicting pain on you. He takes delight in your suffering and is always satisfied with your reactions. Loves to humiliate you, has taken you in front of the souls that are trapped within his home, loves grabbing you by the hair forcing you to look at them while he degrades you.

Master & slave dynamic along with dumbification. Enjoys the concept of dumbification, reducing his little mouse’s intellectual capabilities and turning you into a submissive and obedient cock sleeve.

Raphael likes controlling your orgasms, loves having power over you, denying or prolonging your release. He gets off in edging you, pushing you to the brink of climax and then denying you the satisfaction of release.

Exhibitionism, enjoys watching and feeling Haarlep use you like some rag doll, won’t allow the incubus to ever finish- Raphael will take over when he’s good and ready.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 smut #haarlep #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #haarlep bg3 #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #zevlor x tav #haarlep x tav #raphael x tav #raphael bg3 x reader #haarlep x reader #zevlor x reader

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elizaleclerc · 6 months ago

Text

nobody else matters ❣️

charles leclerc x reader

summary: fem mc driver teases charles when they sneak off during media day <3 (a little 18+)

author’s note: thx for the love on my first post! feel free to message me w ideas :)

song: les by childish gambino

word count: 1.5k

The blistering sun beat down on you like a relentless hammer, its rays penetrating even the thick driver suit that clung to your body. Every step felt like walking through molten lava as you made your way through the crowd of the Miami paddock. The heat was suffocating, but you knew it would only get worse once you were inside the cockpit of your car, racing at top speeds.

Adjusting the snug neck strap of your navy blue Red Bull suit, you took a moment to fluff out your hair and reapply some makeup to combat the sweat-inducing temperatures. It was media day, and there were endless photos and interviews to be taken throughout the circuit. Red Bull's social media manager was in charge of guiding both you and Max around to various games and activities designed to showcase not just your driving skills, but also your personality off the track. From trivia challenges to racing on bouncy balls, each game added its own layer of entertainment for fans and media alike. And between all the fun, there were also professional photoshoots scattered throughout the day, capturing every angle of you and Max in your sleek suits against the vibrant backdrop of the race track.

In the high-stakes world of Formula One racing, Red Bull's main rival was none other than the prestigious Ferrari team. But for Max, it wasn't just about winning on the track - he also harbored a deep hatred for their lead driver, Charles Leclerc. Little did Max know that you, his own teammate, had been carrying on a secret romance with Charles for months now. The thrill and danger of sneaking around in the paddock, hiding your love from the prying eyes of media and fellow drivers, only added to the passion between you and Charles. He consumed your every thought, igniting a fiery desire that burned hotter than the scorching Miami sun.

Charles had a way of affecting your mood, even when he wasn't physically present. Whenever you were apart, there was a subtle shift in the air, as if a piece of you was missing. As a popular driver, Charles was no stranger to media attention, and despite your best efforts to keep your relationship under wraps, rumors still swirled about the two of you being more than just colleagues. But it was no secret how your face lit up whenever he was near, and how his own expression mirrored yours. In each other's company, it was as if the world melted away and all that mattered was the connection between you. Charles had become your everything - always checking in on you before every race and worrying over even the smallest of crashes. You were each other's constant support and strength amidst the chaos of the racing world.

Despite the exhilaration of keeping your forbidden romance with a rival driver hidden from the public eye, Charles's contract with Ferrari was set to expire at the end of this season. This presented him with the opportunity to switch teams and potentially join you at Red Bull. You had pleaded with him multiple times, urging him to take Max's place so that the two of you could finally race together. But Charles was adamant about wanting you by his side at Ferrari, making it a constant battle between your conflicting desires. This impasse seemed never ending, both of you refusing to budge from your positions, determined to make the best decision for yourselves and your racing careers.

Beads of sweat lingered on your flushed forehead as you wrapped up another exhilarating game outdoors for the media with Max. Your body was craving for a break from the scorching heat, and so you decided to make your way back to your driver room in the paddock.

You unzipped your tight driver suit, feeling instant relief as the cool air hit your damp skin. The thin white fireproof fabric clung to your body and provided some much-needed respite from the intense heat. As you opened the door to your driver room, it swung shut behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist and soft lips pressing against yours. Charles' skin was glistening with sweat under the dim light, but the fiery passion and love between the two of you set the room ablaze.

Every time his hands touched your skin, it felt like fire spreading through your veins. His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine as he whispered desperately, "God, I've missed you." You couldn't help but smile into his next kiss, knowing the effect you had on him.

"It's only been a few hours, darling" you teased, but secretly thrilled at his level of desire.

"You know I crave you all the time, mon amour," he murmured in a husky voice that made your whole body quiver with anticipation. As his hand trailed lower, you could feel yourself getting more and more aroused.

Charles noticed your heightened state and flashed a devilish grin. "How long is your break?" he asked mischievously.

You shook your head, trying to suppress a giggle. "No, we can't. Not here, are you insane?" But the thought of being caught only added to the thrill. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine giving in to such intense passion in the cramped quarters of your driver's room. And yet, the danger only fueled your desire. Outside, people were milling around the paddock, completely unaware of the fiery passion unfolding just feet away from them.

“Please, I need you,” he begged, his voice desperate and cracking. You couldn't resist the sight of him like this – tall and muscular with a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes searched yours, pleading for you to fulfill his desires.

A smirk played on your lips as you leaned in closer, your own body buzzing with anticipation. “Oh baby,” you purred, running your fingers through his dark hair. “You know I can't resist when you beg like that.” Your hands trailed down his chest, undoing his driver's suit with practiced ease.

“Let me please you,” you whispered, your voice dripping with desire. And without hesitation, Charles was putty in your hands.

You pressed against him, feeling the heat and power emanating from his body. Your lips found their way to his neck, leaving a trail of passionate kisses and gentle bites. With each one, his breath grew heavier and his grip on you tighter.

Your hand slipped under the waistband of his pants, finding him already hardened with need. He let out a low moan as your touch sent shivers down his spine. And as your fingers explored further down, he could barely contain himself – caught between wanting more and wanting to hold onto this moment forever.

You trailed your fingers along his length, eliciting a deep groan from his throat. Your lips brushed against his ear as you asked, "How does that feel, baby?" He responded with a low moan and you continued to palm him, relishing in the way he melted under your touch.

His head tilted back and you took advantage of the exposed skin on his neck, peppering it with kisses while your hand worked its magic. As his breathing became more erratic and you could tell he was close, you suddenly stopped.

"What- what are you doing?" He questioned, confusion evident in his voice.

A devilish grin spread across your face as you whispered in his ear, "Once you tell me you want to drive in navy blue, we can do things like this more often."

He pulled back, his intense gaze filled with passionate anger and desire. "Oh mon amour, we both know you look better in red," he growled lowly.

Your bodies were mere inches apart, the heat between you building into a fiery intensity. He leaned in to kiss you again, your movements seamlessly meshing together. As he pulled away, you couldn't help but notice that he was still visibly aroused in his suit.

"Sit here for a moment and compose yourself. Slip out without getting caught," you whispered teasingly, a sly smile on your lips. You quickly zipped up your own suit and left your driver's room.

Stepping back into the warm air outside, you took a deep breath and grabbed a water bottle to cool your racing heart. A sense of pride swelled within you as you walked away from Charles, leaving him hanging with unfulfilled desire.

Little did you know, as you returned to Max and Red Bull's social media manager to prepare for the upcoming photo ops, that a stray worker had captured Charles leaving your room on their phone camera...

#formula one fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #fem reader #fem mc driver #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #ferrari #red bull f1

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ivystoryweaver · 27 days ago

Text

Cosmic - Poe Dameron

Episode 1: A Space Odyssey next

Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Happy Poevember!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Summary: In 1981, in rural America, Poe crash lands to earth and you have to show him everything (set in America but reader is not necessarily American)

Content: some minor injuries and blood, not beta'd

Word Count: 2.4k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

A deafening crash obliterated peaceful sleep on a silent, country night. You sat up in bed, abruptly, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Heart pounding and ears alert, you listened, hoping to convince yourself it was nothing - a dream, or maybe even a distant car crash.

Willing yourself to climb out of bed, you crept to the window, trying desperately to calm your breathing before drawing back the curtains.

That's when you saw it. A fire - distant, but definitely on your property. Maybe someone did crash. Or...was there some sort of electrical or gas explosion? As far as you could tell, the fire wasn't near your barn, or any of your sheds or buildings.

Scrubbing a hand over your face, you decided you better go check it out. Pulling your nightgown over your head, you grabbed the nearest pair of sweats - a crewneck gray top with matching bottoms. Taking the stairs two at a time, you headed for the back door, slipping into your boots and lifting your coat off the hook. Twisting the lock, you yanked open the door, but paused. You turned back and rummaged around in the drawer for a flashlight.

It flickered once before powering on, bright enough to lead you to the laundry room where you found a more useful spotlight flashlight and a fire extinguisher. Pushing open the screen door, you tried to estimate how far the fire was. This prompted you to grab your truck keys and drive.

The familiar creak of the your father's old truck door reminded you that this thing was probably on its last leg. You put the key in the ignition, impatiently bouncing on the bench seat.

"Come on, girl, not tonight. Come on."

After a few more sputters, the old thing cranked, a puff of smoke its only protest. With your high beams illuminating the path, you made your way to the mysterious flames.

In the few minutes it took you to drive across your property, bouncing over the uneven ground in the old truck, you started to realize how big the fire was...and that you probably should've called the fire department before you charged at it with a mere fire extinguisher.

Twisted hunks of metal had ravaged your farmland. Something huge had crashed here. An airplane or jet of some sort. Maybe experimental aircraft. Or a UFO. The musical motif from 2001: A Space Odyssey drifted through your mind. The government was sure to be here soon, probably setting up camp on your property and kicking you out of your own home on grounds of national security.

You were at a complete loss, heart racing as the smoke began to burn your lungs. Pulling your shirt collar up over your nose as a makeshift mask, you began to walk the perimeter of the crash, deciding to take a look before calling the authorities.

Rounding the corner of what appeared to be a black and orange metal wing, you heard a groan.

"Oh my god," you gasped, easing closer, braving the heat and the smoke to see what you assumed was the pilot. Something welled up inside you - adrenaline, probably, but your legs carried you forward to a man, half strapped into his seat, bloodied and unconscious.

"Oh god. Hold on. Hold on, I'm gonna get you out."

Racing back to your truck, you climbed into the truck bed, looking for a tool - anything to help you. Thankfully, you found a pair of work gloves, a wrench and a pair of pliers in the back, and a utility knife normally kept in the glove box.

You scrambled back to the man, praying to anything listening that he was not dead. After using the fire extinguisher to put out the fire immediately surrounding him, you used the knife. You cut him free of the straps holding him to the aircraft seat, grateful for gloves around such hot metal. Thankfully he wasn't a big person - not overly tall or heavy, so you were able to drag him all the way back to your truck.

It took all your strength and then some to get him all the way into the truck. You quickly examined him for obvious injuries, hoping he wasn't bleeding out or hadn't broken his back. He seemed generally okay, aside from some scrapes and cuts and minor burns.

Gingerly, you buckled him into the seat and slowly removed his helmet. He was bleeding from his temple, but the cut didn't seem deep. Blood and dirt covered his cheeks and was matted into his thick, dark curls.

"Gotta get you to a hospital." Cranking the truck, you glanced over at his orange flight suit, wondering who he could possibly work for.

You drove to the end of your property, wondering if you should drive the closest medical center, which was ten miles away, and closed, or if you should drive a hour to the closest city hospital. Either option was a gamble with your somewhat unreliable truck. What if you got stuck?

You decided against it, heading back to your house to call the fire department. They could take this man wherever he needed to go in an ambulance.

You pulled up to the house and switched off the engine, exhaling heavily before unbuckling both yourself and the pilot. You walked around the truck, opened the passenger door and jumped back with a scream as his head lolled over and his eyes blinked open.

"Where am I?" He croaked out. "Which system?"

"Hey, it's okay," you tried to soothe both him and yourself simultaneously. "You're at my farm. I think your jet crashed. I'm going to call for some help."

He tried to climb out of the truck, but flopped back into the seat with a groan. "The f...the First Order. Is the First Order here?"

You shook your head. "I-I don't know what you mean. I think you need a hospital."

Slinging one leg out the door, he gripped the truck door with his gloved hand, hauling himself to his feet.

"Careful," you instructed, reaching out to help steady him.

Deep brown eyes locked onto yours. "Thank you."

"Of course. Come on, let's get you inside."

He nodded, arm resting heavily around your shoulders. "Kriffing hell," he choked, limping with difficulty.

"Hey, I've got you. Just lean on me."

The two of you made it through the back door, into the kitchen, where you helped the pilot ease down onto a chair.

"You okay?" You asked, trying to steady him. "Is your leg broken?"

"I-I don't know. I don't think so." He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.

"Hold on. Let me get you some water. I need to call for help."

"Wait!" He protested, stopping you with a strong grip on your arm. "Wait, who are you calling? The First Order can't know."

You shook your head. "I don't know what that is. I was just going to call an ambulance to help you and the fire department to take care of your jet out there."

"I'm fine," he waved you off, attempting to push himself up on the chair. "Believe me, I've been in tougher scrapes than this. I just need to get back to my ship, to my transceiver. Where's your satellite?"

"My satellite? I don't have a satellite," you explained. "I have a telephone. And a couple of CB radios. That's it. No satellite."

"Damn it," he huffed, seeming to grow more agitated by the moment. Yanking off his gloves, he pushed his hands through his hair, wincing as he grazed the cut on his temple.

"Let me get you some help," you insisted, opening the cupboard to get a glass, which you filled with water from the tap. "Drink this."

His eyes met yours and he nodded once, downing the glass in one gulp. You took it from him and refilled it, collecting the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink. "Here," you said, handing the glass back to him. "Drink some more. Let me look at your head. Then I'm calling an ambulance."

Without answering, he slowly accepted the glass of water, waiting patiently while you dabbed the cut on his temple, hissing as you cleansed it.

"You need to hold this gauze here for a minute. I don't think a bandage will stick in your hair," you explained. "I don't think you need stitches, but I would rather a doctor look at you."

Reaching for your arm, he stopped you, his calloused fingers circling your wrist. "Please don't call anyone. You're very kind but...please. Not until I'm sure."

With trembling breath, you swallowed down a growing sense of dread. Was this man some sort of spy? Maybe he was Russian? "Not until you're sure of what?"

"Of where I am," he emphatically explained. "And who's in control of this system. Noticing you shudder, he released your wrists. "Please, can we take your...speeder back to my ship? I won't bother you anymore."

Slowly nodding, you stood, flabbergasted as he used the table to help him climb out of his chair, standing with difficulty.

"Here, I'll help you," you found yourself offering, despite your concern about who this man could be.

Soon enough, you drove him back out to the crash site, wondering if you would somehow get into trouble with the government if this man communicated with an enemy of the state. But, not sure of what else to do, you watched as he climbed out of your truck, limped around the perimeter of the crash and did something with the ship that made the fire go out pretty quickly.

You weren't even sure if he wanted you to stay and wait for him.

After a few minutes, however, he made his way back to the truck.

"Comms are busted. My droid is a pile of wires. Glad it wasn't BB." Shaking his head, he sighed in frustration. "This whole thing is too hot to look at tonight. Do you think anyone will come looking?" He glanced over at you.

"Uhm, the nearest neighbor is five miles. Maybe no one saw," you told him. "They might see the smoke in the morning."

He nodded curtly, running a gloved hand over his face. "Would it be okay if I waited here for a little while? Maybe let my ship cool off and..." With a groan of pain, he turned to peer through the window behind him. "Do you think we could use your speeder to haul away some of the wreckage?"

You stared at him for almost a full minute. "Who are you?"

With a sardonic, exhausted half-chuckle, he shook his head. "Sorry. I...I can't tell you until I know where I am."

Chewing on your lip, you tried to decide what to do. "I'll tell you where we are. But you have to tell me where you're from too. Deal?"

He nodded, so you unbuckled your seatbelt and shifted to face him, one leg drawn up to your chest.

"We're in Iowa. But you must have known that. You must have been flying over us, maybe to the closest base, when you crashed."

"Iowa," he slowly repeated. "What system are we in?"

"You keep saying 'system' - I don't know what that means," you insistently explained. "We're in Iowa. In the United States. Are you not from here?"

"Uh, no," he quickly answered. "I have no idea where we are. Who's in charge of your United States? Are you occupied by the First Order?"

"I don't know what that is! We're the United States. Do you seriously not know the United States of America? Maybe the most powerful nation in the world? Or one of them, anyway. There's no one occupying this country. I've never even heard of something called a First Order."

"Good. That's good." Removing his gloves again, the man stroked his chin. It seemed to be a habit of his. "You said 'this world'. What planet is this?"

Without meaning to, you looked at him like he was crazy. "You must have a concussion. I definitely should've called an ambulance."

"Just - please, answer me. Please." His eyes found yours, dark eyebrows shifting pleadingly. True, deep concern radiated from his gaze as a shimmer brimmed along his lower lashes. "Please tell me. I don't understand. I don't know where I am."

"Okay, okay," you quickly reassured him. "I'll answer anything you ask. And...remember, you're going to tell me where you're from too. And a name."

He nodded quickly, scooting a little closer as if he were hanging on to your every word.

This poor man. He seemed really out of it. "We're on Earth. This is planet Earth. In North America. United States. In Iowa. On my farm. That's it, that's where we are. And you can call me Trix." You shrugged one shoulder. Not your real name, but your dad called you Trix when you were really young.

"Trix," he slowly repeated. "Trix...from Earth." He sighed, worriedly. "Earth. I've never heard of it. And you don't know the system?"

You shrugged. "I mean...Earth is in the solar system? In the Milky Way galaxy? Is that what you mean?"

"Milky Way," he gasped, staring at you in disbelief. "The Milky Way galaxy? Oh my...I've...I've never left our galaxy. I've never..."

His breathing grew shallow as his head hit the headrest with a thud.

"Oh, god, I think you're having anxiety or...just breathe." Reaching across him, you rolled down the truck window to give him fresh air, which didn't help much, because the air smelled like smoke. It seemed to help, however as he slowly began to calm down.

"Are you okay?" You finally asked after several tense moments.

"I think so. I must've. I think..." He trailed off, something in his eyes so forlorn.

You had to ask. "Are you...a spy? Are you Russian?"

Turning to face you, he frowned in confusion. "What's Russian?"

Okay. So either this man was completely mental, or...no. It couldn't be. You had watched too many science fiction films. He must have amnesia or something.

"Where are you from? You promised," you reminded him.

He swallowed hard, sitting up a bit straighter. Then he looked right into your eyes, again. There was something so honest and slightly unnerving when he did that.

"My name is Poe," he finally declared. "I'm from Yavin 4. It's in the Yavin System, in the Gordian Reach sector, in the Outer Rim Territories." Glancing down at his lap, he exhaled shakily. "It's definitely not in the Milky Way Galaxy."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my tag list

#poevember #poe dameron #star wars #poe dameron x reader #cosmic fic #poe dameron x earth!reader

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felassan · 3 months ago

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New BioWare Blog post:

"Journal #6 Lethality and Levelling An inside look into Rook’s Warrior combat Hello everyone, Since our summer reveal in June, we’ve been reading all the great excitement for the game and listening closely to what you’d like to see next. Our reveal trailer showed off the prologue and very beginning of the game, and now we want to shift our focus to higher level combat. Today, we’re going to cover our game’s combat system, looking at how Rook and Companions can be built up to meet the perils facing Thedas, using deep RPG systems. This starts with choosing a desired class as there are three main classes to select from when creating Rook: stalwart Warrior, deft Rogue, or spell-slinging Mage. This blog and accompanying videos will focus on the Warrior class, and we’ll have more to share on the other classes before launch."

"PREPARE FOR BATTLE By choosing Warrior, the fighting style revolves around close range combat and defense. Skills, Traits, Runes, and Abilities are customizable to best suit that type of playstyle. The loadout will have slots for Abilities, accessed from the Ability Wheel. Picking which Abilities from the many in the arsenal to bring into battle is a strategic choice made for each encounter, and they can be swapped out anytime, except during combat. For some added depth, there are up to three equipable Runes. Runes provide a variety of control, utility, or additional damage to synergize with your build. While in combat, all three Runes can be cycled through and activated. There are a wide range of potential Abilities that are unique to each Class and can be customized by spending Skill Points. For example, the Warrior class will have certain abilities that deal fire damage. Players can plan their build around this, and each skill point spent could be in pursuit of this build. Each step taken is designed to augment Rook and/or Abilities. Eventually, Rook will gain access to Specializations, which grant powerful Abilities, unique to each Specialization. These Specializations will also provide a unique Ultimate Ability (more on that later below) tuned to the theme of that Specialization, so a Warrior specializing as a Grey Warden Champion will gain access to the devastating incendiary Warden’s Fire that launches a flurry of searing strikes that ignite foes like tinder. This is the best Specialization Area for defeating darkspawn, an enemy that many Dragon Age fans know well. Check out all the Specialization Areas below (minor gameplay spoilers) and we’ll have a separate spotlight on progression later as well."

"Warrior Rook Specialization Areas: Reaper - Become night's blade. Steal life and risk death to gain incredible, unnatural abilities Slayer - Leap into the fray. Wield massive, punishing weapons while rushing enemies to deal devastating blows. Champion - Be the shield. Shrug off damage while summoning righteous fire down on enemies. Rogue Rook Specialization Areas: Duelist - Draw your steel. Parry and dodge past enemies to gain strength with every strike. Saboteur - Set the stage. Deploy explosives and turrets that devastate enemies, then pick them off with arrows. Veil Ranger - Hunt the enemy. Snipe enemies from afar using artifacts that charge arrows with dangerous, powerful magic. Mage Rook Specialization Areas: Death Caller - Embrace the dark. Drain life from enemies and cast spells that writhe with the essence of death itself Evoker - Call the void. Freeze enemies in their tracks, then summon the deepest cold to tear them apart. Spellblade - Be the storm. Channel potent spells for close-quarters combat infused with lightning's wrath."

COMBAT BASICS Now let’s talk about the foundations of the combat system. The four core moves that all three classes share include jump, dodge, light attack, and heavy attack, which can all be chained together. Rook can dodge at any time, even mid-attack, which adds fluidity to the combat. Is taking damage or dealing it better at that moment? Light attacks do quick damage and build small amounts of stagger; heavier attacks are slower and build more stagger to your opponent. Once enough stagger is built, the enemy will be rendered more vulnerable to all incoming damage and allows Rook to perform a takedown. Each of these attacks (light and heavy) can be charged by holding down the button to deliver a more potent version of the strike. For example, a heavy attack can be charged while using a staff to unleash a magical wave of destructive energy. Attacks can also be triggered while sprinting and/or jumping to add depth and fluidity to combat. In addition, each class has ranged attacks, blocks (or parries, if timed properly with the right weapon set), and the ability to control Companions’ combat strategy. Each Class also has two distinct weapon sets, which can be swapped seamlessly in the heat of battle. This drastically changes the available move-sets and strategies. Heavy attacks remove Armor Barrier (denoted by a yellow bar) faster, and ranged attacks remove Shield Barrier (denoted by a blue bar) faster. There is also the Stagger meter (denoted by a lavender bar) which builds as hits are landed against an enemy. Stagger creates opportunities for bonus damage and special Takedowns. The Ability Wheel pauses the fight for more precise control over Rook’s own abilities and those of their Companions, and where those tactical RPG elements come into play. Players can use the Ability Wheel to assign Companions to attack specific enemies, individually or together. Abilities can also be bound shortcut keys to keep the action flow going, instead of always bringing up the Ability Wheel. Vulnerabilities and resistances of enemies can also be seen while targeting enemies in the Ability Wheel. For example, Darkspawn are weak to fire damage."

"BUFFS, DEBUFFS & CROWD CONTROL Some Abilities apply buffs or debuffs to help you in the fight. For example, Davrin has the Heroic Strike Ability which applies the Overwhelmed debuff to enemies. This will increase the enemies’ Stagger and make it easier for Rook to perform a Takedown. There are also Area of Effect Abilities to help the party defeat large groups of enemies. Controlling the field of battle is a key consideration in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Players will need to consider which buffs/debuffs or crowd control Abilities will work best for each situation. Abilities require Class Resources (Mana, Momentum & Rage) to be able to use. Each class primarily builds up their Class Resource by dealing damage with basic attacks. In addition, each class has a secondary way to build their Class Resource - Warriors build Rage by taking and dealing damage, Rogues build Momentum by dodging attacks and parrying successfully, and Mages regain Mana passively over time. Warriors who go into battle with a sword-and-shield build, will have access to the Shield Throw Volley. By landing a Heavy Attack on a Shield Throw return, the shield will ricochet, taking out multiple enemies. This sequence can repeat up to three times, causing a devastating ring of damage around Rook. This attack works well against swarms as well as distant adversaries. Other ways to manage distant enemies lean into Companion abilities, such as Davrin’s Death from Above to send Assan, his griffon, to attack enemies. Warriors also have the Grappling Spear Ability to pull enemies close for an easier victory. With these tools, attacks can be chosen based on the type of enemy and the situation to dispatch foes in the most optimal way, especially on higher difficulties."

"PRIMERS, DETONATORS & ULTIMATES Many Abilities include some type of coordinating effect and serve as either a Primer or a Detonator that can result in devastating combo attacks when properly executed with the Companions. These Ability combos can be set up in the Ability Wheel. Finally, you have your most powerful attack: Rook’s Class Ultimate Ability. Doing damage to enemies increases your Ultimate Meter. The Ultimate Meter won’t fully fill during smaller skirmishes, because they are designed to decimate a significant swath of the battlefield or the toughest bosses. All of these options combine together to create a rich combat experience that is highly customizable. The entire Skill Tree is also fully refundable, and Skill Points can be redistributed. We encourage you to try out multiple builds, use different Abilities for each mission, and change up the Companions you bring into battle. These videos have highlighted several of the ways that players can achieve strategic combat in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. We’ve put them all together in case you wanted to see them back-to-back. Check out the full video below! there’s a lot to explore in the game and a lot more to talk about. We’ll have more to share on the Rogue and Mage before launch, as well. Next week, we look forward to companions week, along with another Discord Q&A planned for August 30th where we can answer more of your questions about the game. Chat soon! — The Dragon Age Community Team"

[source] <- video links at link

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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leejenowrld · 7 months ago

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HIII DID U SEE JENO’s ASH BLOND HAIR AT TDS3 😭😭😭 IM LITERALLY SCREAMING

IDK if you’re still taking requests but can we get a lil scenario for mfal or iye jeno x y/n where he suddenly gets that undercut and ash blonde hairstyle and y/n is so obsessed with it n she gets a lil spicy 🫢🫢

mhm i did. making me feel crazy. and him taking his top off? yeah, fuck. also yes but from now on i’m gonna be focusing on scenarios for in your eyes jeno! it’s my main focus above mfal, hope you understand 🫶 so if you have any more requests then send them over <3

Nayoung’s voice breaks through the hum of the campus afternoon, laced with surprise and a hint of envy. “Who the fuck is that? He looks good.” Her eyes are locked on a figure ahead, captivated by the striking ash blonde hair and the lean build visible even from a distance.

You follow her gaze and instantly recognize the distinctive silhouette. “It’s Jeno,” you gasp, your heart leaping in your chest. He had mentioned a surprise for you, but this was more than you could have anticipated.

With quick steps, you approach him, your eyes drinking in every detail. The new hair color, combined with a stylish undercut, transforms him, adding an edge of sophistication and undeniable allure. He’s surrounded by admiring glances from others, but his attention snaps to you the moment you reach him.

You reach out, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns, and his grin spreads wide across his face the moment he sees you. Without a word, Jeno pulls you into his arms, his embrace enveloping you in the familiar scent and warmth you’ve missed.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble that resonates with affection. His hands slide down to rest on your waist, pulling you closer into his space, into his world.

You respond by sliding your arms around his neck, drawing yourself even nearer. Your fingers find their way through his new ash blonde hair, exploring the soft strands and the sharp lines of his sexy new undercut. The change suits him stunningly, enhancing the strong lines of his jaw and the piercing gaze of his eyes. “You look sexy,” you whisper, breathless not just from the surprise but from the sheer impact of his new style.

Jeno chuckles, his breath fanning over your face. “I only did it because I knew how much you’d love it,” he confesses, his eyes twinkling with mischief and pride.

Your response is a mix of admiration and desire, your voice thickening as you press your body closer to his. “You’re making me very horny.” You stifle a moan. “I find every part of you so hot.”

“Is that so?” he teases, his lips hovering just inches from yours, the electric charge of your proximity igniting a spark that threatens to consume you both. “And what exactly do you find so hot right now?” His question, whispered against your lips, is laden with an invitation.

With a playful smirk, you answer by capturing his lips with yours, kissing him deeply, your hands still tangled in his hair. Jeno responds with equal fervor, his grip tightening as he deepens the kiss, his actions speaking louder than words ever could.

As you both pull away, breathless and flushed, the connection crackles with unrestrained desire and profound affection. “Every part of you,” you breathe out, resting your forehead against his. “But this new look might just be my favorite yet.”

His laughter rings out, pure and delighted, filling the air around you. “Good,” he says, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your lips. “Because I did it for you.”

#nct dream #nct #nct jeno #jeno smut #jeno x reader #nct 127 #nct dream jeno #jeno #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #lee jeno #jeno moodboard #jeno icons #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct imagines #jeno angst #nct x reader #nct u

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waves-against-a-cliff · 9 months ago

Text

People Watching - Ghost x You

Content Warnings - Suicidal thoughts. Suicidal ideation(?) let me know if I missed anything.

@itsagrimm told you I was one step away

@ghouljams remember the people watching discussion we had?

Ghost Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ghost is painfully aware of what kind of non-life he lives. He needs to breathe, he needs to eat and rest. He indulges in Kentucky whiskey and a cig when the moments hit. But he isn't alive. Not on paper and he certainly doesn't feel that way. Ghost is painfully aware there is no room for Simon Riley in this world anymore. Simon Riley died with his family in the fire, his name is etched on the same grave as his mother and another person's skeleton lays 6 feet under next to his mother. Tommy, Beth and Joseph are a plot away, forever together in their grave.

Simon Riley is dead. All that's left is his ghost. He isn't stupid, Ghost is rather smart or at least very aware. Very aware that the government can use him for anything. All the crimes he's committed, the international laws he's violated. But he's dead. There's no one to press charges against unless they want to fight the evidence that says he is dead. He's been dead for years. It would be difficult to gain the rights to dig up the skeleton that claims to be Simon Riley and then test the DNA. So Ghost does as the brass commands. He lets himself be a puppet and thinks it's better this way. At least he's doing something instead of staring at his gun and contemplating putting a bullet in his head. At least he's doing something with this non-life.

When Ghost gets some time to himself it's a rare day indeed. But he's between missions and he's sure Price will snap at him if he sees Ghost linger on base any longer. So Ghost wanders the streets and sits on the tube all day. From place to place, he watches people live. Tired university students barely stay awake, their heads leaned against the pole or tilted back. Little children, hand in hand with their mums or dads with their toys in the other. Couples leaned against each other, murmuring things Ghost can't hear. He watches people live. He watches what he can't have, not in a million years.

He watches you. Ghost watches you stumble on the train, the rain has soaked your coat and hair, water drips off your grocery bags. You had barely made it. He watches you look around and despair at the lack of seats. Ghost stands and offers his seat to you. "Thank you." You smile at him despite the cold water that drips off of you and settle down into the warm spot he had made over the last several hours.

You're alive. He is not. But when your shoulder brushes him, despite it being wet, he swears a spark of life ignites. Even if just for a second. He smiles and then remembers you can't see his smile but you smile back. Observant. You notice the way his eyes crinkle just a little when he smiles under his face mask. "You're welcome."

Your life barely touches. Grazes and bumps right off like a ball bouncing against a wall once. You're only on the tube for a little while and get off two stops later. But Ghost imagines the kind of life you live. What you do for work. Do you live in a flat or town house? Your favorite meal? He imagines it all.

He does not imagine seeing your face on base as Laswell introduces them all to her newest assistant.

#simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #simon riley cod #cod simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #tw sui ideation #tw sui talk

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muiitoloko · 6 months ago

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hello, do you plan to write a part 2 for the Colonel Brandon ? The reader could tell him more about her past treatment as she grew to trust him enough to do so. And Brandon being Brandon, I guess we will have a lot of fluff.

Title: Whispers of Doubt

Summary: Doubts still gnaw at you.

Pairing: Colonel Brandon × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, doubts, fear, inferiority complex.

Author's Notes: You asked, I delivered—well, sort of! Here it is, not exactly what you ordered, but hey, it’s the sequel you didn't know you needed! Enjoy the ride!

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

The days since you and Brandon had declared your love for each other passed calmly, yet there was an undercurrent of intensity. With your newfound openness, your life together had taken on a rhythm both passionate and serene. You now spent most of your time in the main house, a change that brought you closer to Brandon in every sense. Remarkably, the peace seemed to help stave off your episodes, at least for now, and the household settled into a new normal.

However, beneath the veneer of daily life, a fervor burned brightly. The pretense of trying to conceive children masked the true nature of your physical relationship, a relationship that thrived on unspoken desires and mutual need. It became clear that both of you were reveling in the intensity of your newfound intimacy.

Brandon, once the epitome of the disciplined, reserved colonel, had shed his gentlemanly constraints in the privacy of your shared moments. In the throes of passion, he transformed, his demeanor wild and untamed, driven by a raw, primal need that matched your own. The stately mansion became the backdrop to your fervent lovemaking, each room holding the memory of your shared abandon.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the library, engrossed in a book about childbirth and early child-rearing. You were seated at a large oak table, the room's vast collection of books providing a comforting backdrop. Brandon entered quietly, his presence filling the room with an electric charge. He moved behind you, reading over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Thinking about our future children?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, unable to speak as his hands found your shoulders, kneading gently. His touch was a soothing balm and a promise of what was to come. One thing led to another, as it often did these days, and soon the book was forgotten, the table's solid surface supporting you as Brandon's need overpowered any pretense of restraint.

He positioned you with firm but gentle hands, bending you over the table as he stood behind you. You gripped the edge of the table, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his fingers traced a heated path down your back. His touch was both a caress and a claim, each stroke igniting a fire within you.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Before you could respond, he entered you with a swift, powerful thrust that left you gasping. The transformation was instant; the disciplined Colonel Brandon was gone, replaced by a man driven by an all-consuming need. His movements were relentless, each thrust deep and demanding, as he held your hips firmly.

The library, a sanctuary of knowledge and calm, was now filled with the sounds of your passion. The table creaked beneath the intensity of your coupling, the bookshelves standing as silent witnesses to the raw, primal connection between you. Brandon's hands roamed your body, gripping, caressing, his lips finding the sensitive spot at the nape of your neck.

"Christopher," you managed to gasp, his name a plea and a prayer.

He responded with a growl, his pace quickening, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The disciplined veneer of the colonel had given way to the fervent lover, his need for you overriding all else. You pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your shared desire a blazing inferno that consumed you both.

When the climax came, it was a shattering release, your cries mingling with his as you both surrendered to the wave of pleasure that washed over you. The intensity of the moment left you both breathless, clinging to each other as the world righted itself around you.

Brandon held you close, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "I love you, [Your Name]. Never doubt that."

You turned in his arms, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of love and awe. "And I love you, Christopher," you replied, your voice filled with a conviction that matched his own.

In the aftermath, you both stood there, entwined, the library once again a place of quiet reflection. But now, it also held the memory of your love, a testament to the bond that had grown between you, stronger and more unbreakable with each passing day.

Brandon stuffed himself back into his pants and helped you get dressed too, his hands gentle yet firm as he fastened the ties of your pants. His touch, though tender, seemed accompanied by an unspoken hesitation. By this time, you knew him well enough to read the subtle tension in his posture and the way his eyes avoided yours.

“What is it, Christopher?” you asked softly, your voice laced with concern. “You seem troubled.”

Brandon sighed, taking a step back as he ran a hand through his hair. “I received a letter this morning,” he began, his tone hesitant. “An old friend of mine from the army is hosting a dance. We've been invited to attend.”

You felt a pang of anxiety at his words. Social events had become a source of fear for you, the thought of being in public, exposed to prying eyes and gossiping tongues, filled you with dread. You had made very few public appearances since your episodes had become known, and the rumors of your condition, though never confirmed, had been enough to keep you isolated.

Brandon continued, his gaze searching yours for understanding. “I know how you feel about being in public,” he said gently. “And I would never force you to go. But I haven't seen my friend in quite some time, and... I miss the camaraderie we shared.”

The apprehension in your chest tightened. You didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to hold Brandon back from something that clearly meant a lot to him. Yet, the fear of what might happen, of how you might be perceived, loomed large.

“I understand if you don't want to go,” Brandon added quickly, sensing your hesitation. “I won't attend if you're uncomfortable with it. Your peace of mind means more to me than any social engagement.”

His words only deepened your conflict. You wanted to protect him from the potential scandal of your condition becoming widely known, but you also didn't want to be the cause of his isolation. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your thoughts.

“Christopher,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “I’m terrified of people seeing me… having an episode. I’ve worked so hard to keep my family's reputation intact, and now yours as well. The thought of public scrutiny frightens me to no end.”

Brandon stepped closer, taking your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “I understand your fears,” he said softly. “But you are not alone in this. We can face it together, just as we've faced everything else. I will be by your side every moment. And if, at any point, you feel overwhelmed, we can leave.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the earnest sincerity there. His presence, his unwavering support, was a balm to your frayed nerves. “I don’t want to be the reason you miss out on seeing your friend,” you admitted. “I can see how much it means to you.”

Brandon's gaze softened, and he lifted your hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers. “Your comfort and well-being mean more to me than any dance or reunion. But if you’re willing, even if it’s just for a short while, it would mean the world to me to have you by my side.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded slowly. “Alright,” you said, your voice gaining strength. “I’ll go. For you.”

A smile spread across Brandon’s face, and he pulled you into a warm embrace. “Thank you, [Your Name],” he murmured. “We’ll take it one step at a time, and if at any moment you want to leave, we will.”

As you held onto him, you felt a mix of fear and resolve. The journey ahead would be daunting, but with Brandon by your side, you felt a flicker of hope. Together, you would face whatever came your way, united by love and the promise of brighter days ahead.

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the room as you stood before the mirror, a pile of dresses spread out on the bed. It had been a long time since you had prepared for a dance, and the thought of it filled you with both excitement and apprehension. Most days, you preferred the comfort of boyish clothes, which allowed you to move freely and escape the constrictions of societal expectations. But tonight was different. Tonight, you wanted to feel beautiful for Brandon, to be worthy of standing by his side in public, to rekindle the grace you once took pride in.

You slipped into one of the dresses, a deep blue gown with delicate lace at the sleeves and neckline. It was a beautiful dress, but as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't quite right. You tried another, a soft lavender gown with intricate embroidery, and then another, a simple yet elegant cream-colored dress. Each time, you arranged your hair in different styles, pinning it up with hairpins or letting it cascade down your back in soft waves.

But nothing seemed good enough. With a sigh, you sank onto the edge of the bed, frustration gnawing at you. You felt a mix of self-doubt and determination, the desire to be beautiful for your colonel clashing with the insecurities that had haunted you for so long.

Looking out the window, you saw Brandon working with the workers in the field. His shirt was stuck to his body with sweat, highlighting the strength and dedication that defined him. The sight of him, so strong and sure, brought a small smile to your lips. You admired him deeply, not just for his physical strength, but for his unwavering kindness and the love he had shown you.

Determined not to let your insecurities get the better of you, you stood up and returned to the mirror. You chose the cream-colored dress, its simplicity appealing to you in a way the others hadn't. As you adjusted the fit and smoothed the fabric, you thought about the hairstyle that would complement it best. After a moment of contemplation, you decided on a loose, elegant updo with a few tendrils framing your face. It was a style that felt both refined and comfortable, and you hoped it would make you feel as beautiful as Brandon saw you.

Tying your hair in place, you decided that this was it; this was how you would do it. This decision brought a sense of calm, a rare moment of certainty in the midst of your doubts. You then took off the dress, carefully folding it and putting it away, changing back into your men's clothes—garments that allowed you the freedom you so cherished.

Once dressed, you made your way outside to where Brandon was working with the workers in the field. The afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the scene, making the sweat glisten on his brow. As you approached, he looked up and smiled, the sight of you in your usual attire bringing a twinkle to his eye.

"Do you need any help?" you asked, your voice carrying a note of determination.

Brandon chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "You know, you never cease to surprise me," he said, his tone affectionate. "Most women would be preparing for the dance, not offering to join in manual labor."

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Well, I guess I'm not like most women. I don't mind getting my hands dirty."

He studied you for a moment, admiration mingling with a touch of exasperation. "I know you're stubborn and determined," he said, his voice softening. "And as much as I find that both fascinating and frustrating, I wouldn't have you any other way."

With that, he handed you a tool, and together you worked side by side. The labor was hard, but there was a certain rhythm to it that you found soothing. It was a stark contrast to the upcoming dance, but in this moment, you felt more at ease.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the field, Brandon paused and looked at you, his expression serious. "You know, there's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice hesitant. "About the dance... if at any moment you feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable, please let me know. We can leave whenever you want."

You nodded, appreciating his understanding and concern. "Thank you, Christopher," you replied softly. "I promise I'll let you know."

The evening air grew cooler as you finished up the day's work. The fields, now empty of workers, felt peaceful, the only sounds the distant calls of birds and the rustling of leaves. Brandon turned to you, his gaze filled with warmth and love.

"Let's head back," he said, reaching for your hand. "We still need to get ready for tonight."

You smiled and took his hand, feeling a surge of affection for the man who had stood by you through so much. Together, you walked back to the house, the bond between you growing stronger with each step.

Back in your room, you once again donned the cream-colored dress, this time with a sense of purpose. Brandon had been right; you could face this together. As you tied your hair in place, a wave of calm washed over you. Tonight would be a challenge, but with Brandon by your side, you felt ready to face whatever came your way.

Brandon waited for you at the bottom of the stairs, dressed impeccably in his formal attire. When he saw you, his eyes lit up with admiration. "You look stunning," he said, his voice filled with genuine awe.

You blushed, feeling a mix of pride and nervousness. "Thank you," you replied softly. "Shall we go?"

He offered you his arm, and together you stepped out into the night, ready to face the world with love and courage. The journey ahead was uncertain, but with Brandon by your side, you knew you could conquer anything.

In the carriage to Brandon's friend's house, your initial resolve began to falter. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the cobblestone streets, once soothing, now only served to amplify your growing dread. Every bump and jolt seemed to shake loose another fragment of your confidence, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed. You glanced at Brandon, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to your inner turmoil, and tried to draw strength from his presence. But the closer you got to the mansion, the more your fears began to take hold.

As the carriage finally rolled to a stop, your heart pounded so loudly you were certain Brandon could hear it. He stepped out first, his movements deliberate and graceful, but when he turned to help you down, he paused. Your hands were trembling uncontrollably, your body frozen in place. The sight of the servants gathered outside the mansion, their curious eyes fixed on the carriage, made your breath catch in your throat. The thought of facing them, of being seen and possibly judged, was paralyzing.

Brandon noticed your distress immediately. His expression softened, a mixture of concern and understanding crossing his features. He looked up at the coachman, then back at you, his eyes silently pleading with you to come out. The servants continued to watch, their whispers just audible enough to feed your anxiety. Brandon reached out his hand to you, his gesture filled with a quiet desperation, silently begging you to trust him, to take that first step.

Your fear was almost overwhelming, but you knew Brandon deserved more. He had given you so much of himself, and you couldn't bear the thought of disappointing him. With a deep breath, you forced yourself to move, extending a shaky hand towards his. The moment your fingers touched his, you felt a surge of strength flow through you. Brandon's grip was firm and reassuring, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made the world around you fade away.

"Come with me," he murmured softly, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with fear, but you nodded. With Brandon's help, you managed to step out of the carriage, your legs feeling weak and unsteady. The servants' murmurs seemed to grow louder, their eyes following your every move, but you kept your focus on Brandon. He didn't let go of your hand, his grip a constant reminder that you were not alone.

As you walked towards the mansion, your steps slow and hesitant, Brandon stayed close by your side. His presence was a comforting shield against the judgmental gazes and whispered comments. Every now and then, he would give your hand a gentle squeeze, a silent message of support and encouragement. With each step, you felt a bit of your fear begin to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of determination.

Inside, the grand hall was a swirl of color and movement. The guests, resplendent in their finery, danced and mingled beneath glittering chandeliers. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and music, a stark contrast to the silent, dark place of your fears. Brandon led you through the throng, his hand never leaving yours, until you found a quieter corner where you could catch your breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours with genuine concern.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. "I will be," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "Thank you, Christopher. For everything."

He smiled, a tender and reassuring expression that made your heart swell with affection. "We're in this together," he said simply. "Always."

The moment of quiet between you and Brandon was abruptly interrupted by the approach of a distinguished-looking man, his posture erect and confident. He appeared to be Brandon’s age, if not slightly older, his eyes crinkling with familiarity as he spotted the colonel. Brandon’s expression brightened, and he greeted the man with a broad smile.

“Good evening, Colonel Brandon,” the man said, his voice warm and jovial. He saluted, a gesture that Brandon immediately returned before they both laughed heartily, embracing in a way that spoke of long-standing camaraderie.

Watching their interaction, your curiosity piqued, momentarily eclipsing your lingering fears. Brandon turned to you, his arm still draped over the man’s shoulder. “My dear, may I introduce you to an old friend and the organizer of this ball, Lord Frederick Amherst? Frederick, this is my beloved.”

You composed yourself, straightening your posture and offering a polite bow. “Lord Amherst, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Lord Amherst’s eyes twinkled with amusement and respect as he returned your bow with a slight nod. “The pleasure is mine, my lady. Christopher has spoken so highly of you.”

Brandon’s friend had a commanding presence, his demeanor radiating both authority and warmth. As you engaged in conversation, you felt the weight of the room’s scrutiny lighten, your focus shifting to the amiable exchange between the two men.

“Frederick and I served together for many years,” Brandon explained, his tone filled with nostalgia. “We’ve shared countless campaigns and even more stories.”

Lord Amherst chuckled. “Indeed we have. And many of those stories I’m sure the good colonel here would prefer remain untold.” He winked, a playful glint in his eye.

You smiled, finding comfort in their shared history and the easy rapport they maintained. “I can only imagine the adventures you two have had.”

Brandon squeezed your hand gently, his eyes reflecting pride and affection. “Frederick has always been the more adventurous one, but we balanced each other out.”

As the conversation flowed, you found yourself relaxing, the earlier tension slowly dissipating. The familiarity between Brandon and Lord Amherst offered a glimpse into a part of Brandon’s life you hadn’t fully known, deepening your admiration for him.

Lord Amherst smiled at you, his gaze kind yet curious. “If you’ll excuse us, my lady,” he said, his tone polite. “I’d like to steal Colonel Brandon away for a bit to introduce him to some old mutual friends.”

You nodded, attempting to mask your apprehension. “Of course, Lord Amherst. Enjoy your reunion.”

As Brandon and Lord Amherst walked away, you watched them go, a mixture of pride and anxiety swirling within you. The bustling room, filled with unfamiliar faces, felt suddenly more intimidating in Brandon’s absence. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to remain composed and dignified, determined not to bring any shame to Brandon’s name.

Meanwhile, Lord Amherst led Brandon through the crowded hall, a jovial expression masking the serious conversation he intended to have. Once they were out of earshot of others, Amherst turned to Brandon, his tone shifting to one of concern.

“Christopher, I must admit, I’ve heard some troubling rumors about your wife,” he began cautiously. “Is there any truth to them?”

Brandon frowned, his expression darkening. “What rumors, Frederick?”

Lord Amherst hesitated, then continued. “People are saying you left Miss Marianne Dashwood to marry a woman of… unstable mind. Is there any truth to this?”

Brandon’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger. “You are misinformed, Frederick. I did not leave Miss Dashwood. She was committed to someone else at the time, and I respected her choice. When that engagement ended, I had already met and fallen in love with my wife.”

Frederick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “But Miss Dashwood is still single, and the rumors about your wife...”

Brandon cut him off, his voice low and firm. “My wife is not ‘unstable,’ Frederick. She is a remarkable woman, and I love her deeply. The rumors are nothing but vicious gossip, spread by those who do not know her.”

Lord Amherst’s skepticism was evident. “I understand your loyalty, Christopher, but the talk is persistent. Are you sure you’ve made the right choice?”

Brandon’s temper flared. “Frederick, I came here to see an old friend, not to listen to slander about my wife. If you cannot respect her, then perhaps this conversation is over.”

The tension between the two men was palpable. Amherst’s expression softened, realizing he had overstepped. “I meant no offense, Christopher. I’m just concerned for you.”

Brandon’s gaze was steely. “Then trust my judgment. She is my wife, and I will not tolerate any disrespect towards her.”

Frederick raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Very well, Christopher. I see you are resolute. Let us leave this matter and enjoy the evening.”

Brandon nodded curtly, though the anger still simmered beneath his calm exterior. “Thank you.”

As they rejoined the gathering, Brandon’s thoughts remained with you, standing alone among strangers. His love for you and his determination to protect you from gossip and scorn were unwavering. The night was meant for reconnecting with old friends, but it had also become a testament to his steadfast loyalty and devotion to you.

Back in the grand hall, you stood by a table laden with refreshments, trying to look at ease. A few guests approached you, engaging in polite conversation, and you responded with measured grace. Yet, your eyes kept drifting towards the spot where Brandon and Lord Amherst had disappeared, a quiet worry gnawing at you.

When Brandon finally returned, his expression softened as he found you amidst the crowd. He made his way to you, his presence a comforting anchor. But he was stopped halfway to his destination by none other than the Dashwoods. Brandon froze as he caught sight of Marianne Dashwood; her beauty still enchanted him despite everything. She was as captivating as ever, and his heart fluttered involuntarily.

"Elinor, look who it is," Marianne exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she noticed Brandon. "Colonel Brandon, what a pleasant surprise to see you here!"

Elinor Dashwood, always composed and gracious, greeted Brandon warmly. "Colonel Brandon, it is indeed a pleasure to see you. How have you been?"

Brandon turned away from Marianne's eyes to greet Elinor back, trying to maintain his composure despite the rush of emotions that seeing Marianne stirred within him. "Miss Dashwood, Miss Marianne, it is a pleasure to see both of you. I trust you are both well."

Marianne, still as spirited and lively as ever, was quick to engage him further. She took a step closer, fanning herself lightly with a delicate fan that drew Brandon's eyes to her cleavage for a moment before he quickly averted his gaze. He searched the room over Marianne's shoulder, looking for his wife.

"It's been such a long time since we last saw you, Colonel," Marianne said, her tone teasing yet affectionate. "I was hoping you might accompany me for a dance tonight."

Brandon's heart skipped a beat. He knew he had to tread carefully. "Miss Marianne, I appreciate the invitation, but I'm afraid I must ask my wife for permission first."

Marianne's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and curiosity crossing her features. "Your wife?" she asked softly, her tone betraying her emotions.

Brandon nodded, his gaze softening as he spoke. "Yes, my wife. She is here with me tonight."

Elinor smiled understandingly. "Of course, Colonel. We shall look forward to seeing both of you on the dance floor later."

With a polite nod, Brandon excused himself from Marianne's invitation, but before he could take another step, Marianne put a hand on his arm, her touch gentle yet insistent. "Oh, come now, Colonel," she said with a playful smile. "Surely one dance wouldn't hurt."

Elinor, ever the voice of reason, tried to dissuade her sister, casting a concerned glance towards Brandon. "Marianne, perhaps it's best to let Colonel Brandon be. He may have other obligations tonight."

But Marianne seemed determined, her grip on Brandon's arm tightening slightly as she squeezed it. Brandon looked at her, his expression torn between politeness and discomfort. He knew he couldn't refuse her without causing a scene, yet the thought of dancing with Marianne, with all the memories and emotions it would stir, filled him with apprehension.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, you watched the exchange with a heavy heart, insecurity gripping your chest. You had heard whispers from Brandon's employees about his past feelings for Marianne, even though Brandon had assured you that those feelings were long gone and that his love now belonged to you. But seeing them together, with her hand on his arm, brought a surge of doubt and unease.

They made a striking pair, Brandon's tall, stoic figure contrasting with Marianne's vivacious charm. They seemed to match in a way that you and Brandon never quite did, and the sight filled you with a sense of inadequacy.

Feeling your hands shaking, you set aside your drink and gathered your skirts, making your way outside in search of some fresh air. The night air was cool against your skin, the gentle rustle of leaves a soothing contrast to the turmoil within you.

As you walked, you tried to push away the nagging doubts and insecurities that threatened to overwhelm you. You reminded yourself of Brandon's words, of his love and devotion to you. Yet, the image of him with Marianne lingered in your mind, a painful reminder of the past that refused to be ignored.

You found a secluded spot in the garden, away from the prying eyes and whispered conversations of the party. Sitting down on a bench, you closed your eyes and took slow, deep breaths, willing yourself to regain control of your emotions.

"I'm not good enough for him," you whispered to yourself, the fear of being a burden to Brandon resurfacing. The weight of societal expectations and the relentless whispers of gossip clawed at your resolve. "I will ruin everything," you muttered, your voice tinged with despair.

Looking up at the stars, you sought solace in their quiet beauty. Among them, Venus shone brightly, a beacon of hope and love. "Venus will take me away, won't she?" you murmured, a desperate plea to the heavens above.

Just as you felt yourself slipping further into a spiral of anxiety, a voice interrupted your thoughts, calling your name. You turned, startled, and froze in shock at the sight of your old doctor approaching you. His presence brought back memories of his treatments, the pain, and the fear you had felt during those dark days.

"Miss [Your Last Name]," the doctor greeted you with a calm demeanor, his voice soft yet unsettlingly familiar. "It's been a long time."

Your breath quickened at the sight of him, the old wounds reopening fresh in your mind. His presence was a stark reminder of the life you had fought so hard to leave behind. "Dr. Peters," you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "What... what are you doing here?"

The doctor's gaze was steady, assessing. "I heard about the party tonight and thought I might see some old acquaintances," he explained vaguely, his tone giving away nothing of his true intentions. "And here I find you, looking as lovely as ever."

You shrank back slightly, a mixture of fear and unease coursing through you. "I... I was just taking a moment," you stammered, attempting to mask your discomfort. "I didn't expect to see you."

Dr. Peters inclined his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Forgive me if I've startled you," he said, his voice silky smooth. "It's just that I couldn't help but notice you sitting here alone. Is everything alright?"

Your heart raced, the memories of his treatments flashing before your eyes. "Yes, everything is fine," you replied, your voice strained. "I just needed some air."

The doctor's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with something akin to satisfaction. "Of course," he said, his tone almost mocking. "It's a lovely night for a party."

You glanced around nervously, trying to find a way to excuse yourself. "I should... I should go back inside," you muttered, your voice shaking.

As you moved to stand, Dr. Peters reached out and placed a hand on your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You know, Miss [Your Last Name]," he began, his voice low and conspiratorial, "I always admired your strength."

You froze, his words like a dagger in your heart. The memories of the pain he had inflicted, both physical and emotional, flooded your mind. "Please," you pleaded, your voice trembling, "don't."

But Dr. Peters ignored your distress, his grip tightening on your arm. "You were always so resilient," he continued, his voice taking on a sinister edge. "I wonder how you've managed to survive without my treatments."

Panic gripped you, your breath coming in short gasps. "Let go of me," you demanded, your voice stronger now despite the fear coursing through you.

"But you're not a miss anymore, are you, Lady Brandon?" Dr. Peters said softly, almost to himself, as if relishing the power he held over you. "I heard about your wedding to Colonel Brandon. Quite the scandal, isn't it?"

Your heart raced, and you began to murmur, calling out for Venus, seeking solace in the stars above. But Dr. Peters only tightened his grip on your arm, pulling you closer until his face was mere inches from yours.

"Control your mind, Lady Brandon," he whispered in your ear, his voice a chilling command. And against your will, you froze, unable to resist his hypnotic influence.

The doctor's smile widened as he released your arm, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze fixed on you. "I don't understand why your parents stopped your treatment," he mused aloud, his tone mocking. "There was progress, you know. You could control yourself more because of me. I could make a good research study out of it, help other people. But then, it was all abruptly stopped."

You remained silent, unable to find your voice as the memories of his treatments flooded back, the pain and the fear intertwined with his taunting words. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the power he wielded over you like a weapon.

"I was surprised to hear you would be at this dance," Dr. Peters continued, his voice low and menacing. "Everyone is focusing on you, the unstable-minded wife of Colonel Brandon. Some ladies speculate that he only married you out of obligation, that you must have done something inappropriate with him, and the Duke, your father, forced him into this marriage."

The doctor's words cut through the haze of fear and doubt that clouded your mind, piercing straight to the heart of your insecurities. You tried to deny his accusations, to protest the lies he was weaving, but his raised finger silenced you once more. The weight of his words settled heavily upon your shoulders, crushing you with the fear of tarnishing Brandon's name.

As you hung your head, feeling like a burden, the doctor saw your doubts and smiled, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and malevolence. "You see, my dear Lady Brandon," he said softly, his voice dripping with honeyed malice, "I could help you. I could ensure that your... issues don't become a permanent stain on your husband's name."

His words struck a chord within you, sparking a tumultuous battle of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the thought of returning to Dr. Peters' treatments filled you with dread, recalling the pain and suffering you had endured under his care. Yet, the fear of causing further harm to Brandon's reputation gnawed at your conscience, threatening to overwhelm your resolve.

"You know where to find me," the doctor continued smoothly, as if sensing your internal struggle. "My office address remains the same. Think about it, Lady Brandon. Think about what is best for your husband."

With a final smirk, Dr. Peters turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the garden, your thoughts in turmoil. You watched him disappear into the darkness, his figure a sinister silhouette against the moonlit path.

Alone with your thoughts, you paced back and forth, grappling with the weight of Dr. Peters' proposition. Could returning to his treatments truly save you from the demons that haunted your mind? Would it prevent the rumors from spreading further, sparing Brandon from further humiliation?

But as you wrestled with these questions, another voice broke through your turmoil, a voice that echoed with calm reassurance and unwavering love. "My Lady," a familiar voice called out softly from the garden's edge.

You turned, heart skipping a beat as Brandon approached you, concern etched on his face. His presence was a balm to your troubled soul, grounding you in the reality of his unwavering love and support.

"Christopher," you whispered, relief flooding your senses as he drew near. Without a word, he closed the distance between you, enveloping you in his strong embrace.

"You left the ball so suddenly," he murmured against your hair, his voice tinged with worry. "Are you alright, my love?"

You clung to him, seeking solace in his embrace, uncertain if you should reveal the unsettling encounter with your old doctor. The night had shattered your composure, and Brandon's warmth offered a refuge from the storm raging inside you. You must have been silent for a long time, lost in the comfort of his arms, because Brandon began to speak softly, his voice tinged with concern.

"My love, I apologize if my conversation with Miss Marianne upset you," he murmured against your hair. "If it made you uncomfortable, I promise I won't let it happen again."

Your heart sank at the mention of Marianne Dashwood, her image flashing vividly in your mind. You turned away slightly from Brandon, grappling with the weight of your insecurities before gathering the courage to voice your fears.

"Christopher," you began tentatively, "do you... still have feelings for Miss Dashwood?"

Brandon looked away, his expression conflicted as he clenched his fist lightly. The silence that followed was enough of an answer for you. Your heart broke slightly, though you had expected such an outcome. How could anyone not be captivated by such a young and beautiful woman?

Taking a step back, you composed yourself, mustering the courage to broach a difficult topic. "Perhaps... perhaps we should consider an annulment," you suggested quietly, your voice trembling slightly. "You could try again with Marianne."

Brandon shook his head, his heart sinking at the direction the conversation had taken. "No, my dear, not that again," he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern. He gently lifted your chin, meeting your eyes with a tender gaze. "Seeing Miss Marianne again... it did bring back memories, but it doesn't mean I'm in love with her. It's you, only you, that I love."

You scoffed bitterly, unable to hide the pain in your eyes. Brandon glanced over his shoulder, noticing a few people in the distance who seemed to be observing the two of you. His grip on your arm tightened slightly, a silent plea not to make a scene.

"Let's not discuss this here," he whispered urgently, his voice laced with worry. "People are looking."

You followed his gaze and saw the curious glances directed your way. A wave of inadequacy washed over you, making you feel unworthy, a burden—a crazy woman no one wanted to be around.

The doctor's words echoed in your mind, intensifying your inner turmoil. Maybe he was right. Maybe you were embarrassing Brandon's name. The thought twisted your gut, reinforcing your insecurities.

"I..." you began, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the right words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I just..."

Brandon's expression softened, his concern deepening as he tried to comfort you. "Shhh," he whispered, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "It's alright, my love. Please, let's go somewhere more private."

Feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on you, you nodded silently, allowing Brandon to lead you away from the prying gazes. As you walked together, the doubt and fear continued to gnaw at your heart. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were letting Brandon down—that you were somehow not enough for him.

Brandon guided you to a secluded corner of the garden, away from the curious onlookers. He turned to face you, cupping your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with gentle intensity.

"I know tonight has been difficult for you," he began softly, his voice filled with empathy. "But please, believe me when I say that you are everything to me. Miss Marianne is a part of my past, and though I may have cared for her once, my love for you is different—it's deeper, stronger."

Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart aching with the intensity of your emotions. "I... I want to believe you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "But seeing you with her, it just..."

Brandon's thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "I should have been more attentive, more considerate of your feelings."

You shook your head, feeling guilty for causing a scene. "No, it's not your fault," you protested softly. "I'm just... I feel so inadequate, Christopher. She's so young, so beautiful, and I..."

Brandon's expression softened further, his heart breaking for the pain you were feeling. "You are not inadequate," he insisted firmly, his voice unwavering. "You are my wife, my love, and you bring me more happiness than I ever thought possible."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "But what if I'm not enough?" you whispered, the fear lingering in your voice.

Brandon gently tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "You are more than enough," he said firmly, his eyes searching yours. "I married you because I love you, because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Nothing and no one could ever change that."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your heart warming at his words. "I love you too," you murmured, your voice filled with gratitude and relief.

Brandon pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the doubts and insecurities that plagued your mind. "Let's go home," he said softly against your hair. "We can leave this place behind and focus on us."

You nodded against his chest, feeling safe and loved in his embrace. As you left the garden together, the weight of the night's events began to lift from your shoulders. You knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Brandon by your side, you were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

And as you walked away from the whispers and the doubts, you knew deep in your heart that Brandon's love was the anchor that would keep you grounded, no matter what storms may come.

As you and Brandon arrived home, the weight of the evening’s events seemed to dissipate, replaced by the comforting familiarity of your shared sanctuary. Brandon guided you gently up the stairs, his hand warm and steady in yours. When you reached your bedroom, he closed the door behind you, enclosing the two of you in a cocoon of privacy and intimacy.

Brandon’s eyes met yours, filled with a blend of concern and love. Without a word, he began to help you out of your cream-colored dress. His fingers worked deftly at the buttons and laces, his touch gentle yet firm. As he eased the fabric from your shoulders, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your exposed skin. The warmth of his lips against your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine.

“You looked stunning tonight,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that sent waves of heat through you. “It’s a shame I didn’t dance with you.”

You sighed softly, feeling the last of the tension melt away under his touch. “It’s alright,” you whispered, though a part of you wished you had shared a dance with him.

Brandon’s hands slid the dress down your arms, letting it pool at your feet in a soft whisper of fabric. He stepped back slightly, his gaze taking in the sight of you standing before him in your undergarments. “The dress is beautiful,” he said, his voice huskier now, “but I much prefer it on the floor.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you felt your cheeks flush with a mixture of desire and anticipation. Brandon stepped closer, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you against him. His lips found yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, conveying the depth of his feelings more eloquently than words ever could.

“I’ve missed you tonight,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot against your lips. “Every moment I spent away from you felt like an eternity.”

Your hands found their way to the buttons of his waistcoat, fumbling slightly in your eagerness. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips, and helped you remove his clothing piece by piece. Soon, he stood before you, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your bodies.

As he guided you towards the bed, his hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a reverence that made your heart swell. He laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re everything to me,” he whispered, his voice a fervent promise. “Never doubt that.”

You reached up, pulling him down to you, your fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him deeply. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you and the love that bound you together. Brandon’s hands moved with a surety that spoke of his familiarity with your body, his touch igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing moment.

“Christopher,” you breathed, your voice filled with longing and need. “I love you.”

He responded with a kiss, his lips trailing a path of heat down your neck and over your collarbone. “I love you more than words can express,” he murmured against your skin. “And I intend to show you just how much tonight.”

But even as Brandon's tender words enveloped you in warmth, doubts hovered in your mind. How could he truly love you, a woman plagued by insecurities and fears? The whispers of Dr. Peters and the sight of Marianne's enchanting beauty resurfaced, making you question your worth.

Brandon seemed to sense your turmoil. He sighed softly, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. "You are you, and that's why I love you," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "Crazy or not, I love you."

You opened your mouth to protest, to voice the doubts gnawing at your heart, but Brandon silenced you with a kiss. His lips were a tender reassurance against your own, whispering softly against them, "You are my crazy woman, and I am your colonel, old and stupid."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mixture of amusement and arousal sparking within you. The playful tone in his voice, combined with the fierce sincerity of his gaze, melted your insecurities. Brandon's hands roamed your body with a newfound urgency, his touch igniting a fire that burned away the remnants of your doubts.

He kissed his way down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "You drive me wild, you know that?" he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Every part of you—your mind, your body—sets me ablaze."

You gasped softly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. "Christopher," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and emotion. "I need you."

Brandon responded with a growl of approval, his hands moving to unfasten your undergarments with deft precision. "I'll show you just how much I need you, too," he promised, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Every inch of you belongs to me."

He kissed his way down your body, his lips and tongue exploring your curves with a reverence that made your heart race. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Tell me what you want, my love," he urged, his voice a velvet command. "I want to hear you say it."

Your breath hitched, the intensity of his gaze sending a wave of heat through you. "I want you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want all of you."

Brandon's smile was both tender and wicked as he lowered his head, his mouth finding its way to the most intimate part of you. His tongue moved with a skill and precision that left you gasping, your fingers tightening in his hair as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

He took his time, savoring every moan and gasp that escaped your lips, drawing out your pleasure until you were on the brink of begging for release. When you could take no more, he rose to his knees, his eyes dark with desire. "You are mine," he whispered fiercely, positioning himself between your legs. "And I am yours."

As he entered you, a moan of pure ecstasy escaped your lips, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that was both primal and tender. Brandon's hands gripped your hips, his movements sure and deliberate, each thrust sending you higher into a realm of pleasure where only the two of you existed.

"Say it," he urged, his voice strained with his own desire. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you gasped, the intensity of your feelings overwhelming you. "I'm yours, Christopher."

Brandon's pace quickened, his grip tightening as he drove you both toward the edge. "And I'm yours," he groaned, his voice thick with emotion. "Always."

Your release came in a wave of ecstasy, your body trembling in his arms as he followed you into the abyss, his own climax ripping through him with a force that left you both breathless.

In the aftermath, as you lay entwined in each other's arms, the doubts and insecurities that had plagued you earlier seemed to dissipate. Brandon held you close, his hand gently stroking your hair, his heartbeat a steady reassurance against your own.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice a soft caress. "No matter what, I will always love you."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with a love that matched his own. "And I love you," you replied, your voice steady and sure. "Always."

As you drifted into a peaceful sleep in his arms, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. For you were his crazy woman, and he was your colonel, old and stupid—but more importantly, you were each other's, bound by a love that would withstand any storm.

#colonel brandon x reader #sense and sensibility #colonel brandon #alan rickman x reader #alan rickman

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