#these two lonely men..... who find comfort in each other....

[moltage]

babe it's three am time to cry over a pairing that's not even canon

[noonecareslol]

࣪˖ ִ ೀ 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader

Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. Suddenly he's falling in love.

TW: Channeling my love for older men. Injury. Reader lowkey gets sad for a sec. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Allusions to masturbation. Size kink if you squint.

WC! 5k Part 2! -> here!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It is quite obvious that In-ho is an old soul.

He enjoys old films, old clothing, old theatre, and old music. The little jazz set that plays, “Fly Me To The Moon” is a cherished possession of his, along with his vintage whiskey decanter.

He wears a musky cologne he’d been gifted by his late wife, and his closet is lined with leather dress shoes and perfectly pressed slacks. His dimly lit room on the island is vastly similar to the one in his Seoul apartment, everything perfectly neat and clean.

Yes, In-ho is an old soul.

And in between the games, when he would return to Seoul, he’d find himself bored. Especially during the night. He’d miss his wife, the whispered hope of a promised future.

Often he would distract himself by putting his whiskey decanter to good use, pouring the aged whiskey into his glass over and over again. He would linger by his shelf full of movies he’d seen hundreds of times, tracing his fingers along the cases until he landed on a title. A small smile would play on his lips before popping it into the DVD player and taking a seat next to his beloved cat.

He would find himself mumbling the lines as the actors spoke them on screen, his hand absentmindedly petting his cat. When the movie is over, and the quiet resumes, he’d move to his bedroom.

He’d ensure his cat followed before changing into his expensive pajamas and climbing into the king-sized bed. His cat would join him and he would drift to sleep, dreaming of, well, nothing.

He would close his eyes and wake up without any dream having occupied his mind.

This routine became comfortable. Each night he would get home from whatever he’d been doing before, drink, watch a movie, play with his cat, and sleep without any dreams.

But this night, this night was different.

It was a cold night. And all In-ho wanted to do was drown in glasses of whiskey and watch “Dial ‘M’ For Murder” with his cat.

But as he walked past a line of people waiting to enter a theatre, a poster caught his attention. He blinked once, twice, before walking toward the lit-up frame.

A strikingly beautiful ballerina caught his attention first. She held her arms elegantly above her head, her leg pointed behind her, her other leg resting on pointe as she looked to the side. She was breathtaking.

The Seoul Ballet Company Presents: Swan Lake

Opening Night November 1st

Suddenly the thought of whiskey and Alfred Hitchcock left his mind as he joined the line. I mean, who would miss out on opening night?

Especially when the lead was so pretty.

“We have one ticket left in the front row.” The woman behind the ticket booth clicked her pen unenthusiastically as she watched In-ho pull his leather vintage wallet out of his coat pocket.

A grin rested plainly on his lips as he fiddled with his cash, “That’s perfect. How much?”

The woman slowly turned and punched a few numbers into her register before turning back to him, “80,000 won.” She clicked her pen again.

“Do you have change for 100,000?” He held the two 50,000 won in front of him, watching as she stared at him blankly.

She blinked once before snatching the bills from his hands, “Nope!” In-ho sighed. For someone so slow she took those bills awfully fast.

In-ho drew his lips into a thin line before taking the ticket and placing it in his wallet, “Thanks.”

“Yeah enjoy the show or, like, whatever.” The woman took out her phone and began to text as he walked away, obviously not giving a shit about her job.

But as In-ho walked through the double doors, his breath caught in his throat. The theatre certainly did not disappoint his love for old architecture.

The large barrel vaulted ceilings were beautifully ornamented and adorned with intricately painted designs. Gorgeous crown molding edged the ceiling and stretched to the floor. And a large crystal chandelier rested as the centerpiece, warmly lit and inviting.

In-ho took his seat, a smile evident on his lips as he sighed contently. However, he hoped his cat wasn’t too worried about his whereabouts. Maybe she could come along next time? She is a very sophisticated cat, after all.

As the chandelier and house lights began to dim, the crowd became quiet with anticipation and excitement. And it would be dishonest to say that In-ho wasn’t a little excited as well.

He looked to his left at the woman sitting next to him. She was a small elderly lady with a pair of glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Her eyes were filled with excitement as she scanned through the pamphlet, a wide smile plastered on her face.

She wore a vintage necklace around her neck, layered with pearls. In-ho smiled, it was nice to see someone who also had a knack for old taste.

The soft notes of Swan Lake began to play, and In-ho watched as the curtains opened, revealing the beautifully decorated stage. Large trees with hanging vines arched over the set, greenery and flowers blending into the painted backdrop.

A foggy mist flooded the stage as dancers began to move elegantly across. But the lead had yet to make an appearance.

In-ho watched rather impatiently, and failed to notice the woman next to him lean in, “Right now, the prince is going hunting with his crossbow. But he will find that the white swan has turned into a beautiful woman, and has fallen under a curse.” The old woman pointed slightly to the prince, her voice whispering just loud enough for him to hear.

His eyes trained on the prince as he danced with his crossbow, “Thank you. I must look confused.”

The old lady gave a small laugh, “I used to dance for this company, i’ll never miss an opportunity to explain the ballet.”

In-ho watches as she subtly mimics the prince's moves, her hands moving elegantly in front of her. Her eyes were closed, the sound of the music bringing emotion to her face.

Her eyes flick open as the music changes softly, “Look.” Her eyes lighting up as she nods slightly to the stage.

In-ho watches as you finally take the stage, fluttering your feet as you move elegantly toward the prince. Your hands held high above your head, moving gracefully as you bourrée.

He watched as your back muscles contracted, moving as if you had wings. His eyes trained down to your legs and to your pointe shoes, watching as you danced with ease.

Your white feathered skirt moved along with you, the bodice elegantly framing you perfectly. The feathered piece in your hair catches In-ho’s attention, causing him to study your face.

That poster was nothing compared to your beauty.

You held a soft look, but In-ho didn’t fail to notice the focus that caused your eyebrows to furrow slightly. Your movements were soft and graceful, your demeanor innocent and melancholic.

You were perfect as the white swan.

You were perfect.

He wondered if you were just as innocent as you portray yourself to be, “God, she’s beautiful.”

The elderly woman hummed in agreement as she watched In-ho’s gaze remain sharp on the white swan, an all-knowing smile spread across her lips.

As the ballet continued it seemed that the rest of the audience had disappeared. In-ho felt as if you were only dancing for him. No one else.

He swore you looked at him a few times, him being the focus point of your graceful turns.

And when you transitioned into the black swan, all thoughts in In-ho’s head became dark.

Oh, how he liked this side of you.

Your movements were sharp, determined, and seductive. And he found himself adjusting in his seat as his slacks became increasingly tight. You were so close to him. Just a few feet from his touch as you danced on stage. He could take you right now. He could fuck you, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.

And as you leaped on the stage, the white swan jumping to her death, In-ho felt a tear slip from his eye. You were magnificent.

The audience filed out of the theatre, fanning themselves with their pamphlets and discussing the ballet. You had received a standing ovation, and In-ho took pride in being the first one to stand and clap.

He had finally caught your attention. And when you locked eyes with him as you bowed, you felt your brain turn to mush.

He was handsome. Like, extremely handsome.

His face was perfectly chiseled. His eyes crinkled as he flashed a perfect smile, his hair slightly falling in front of his face and covering his dark eyes.

You didn’t blink once as you remained under his gaze, and it wasn’t until another dancer pulled you up that you realized you were bowing for far too long.

You avoided his eye contact as you walked off, embarrassed he had made you turn into putty just by his stare.

And as In-ho exited the theatre, he took his time lingering by the lamp post. He’d secretly hoped to see you leave.

He doesn’t know what he would say if he did see you. Maybe he would compliment you, or ask you a meaningless question. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d push you against the lamppost, and let his desire consume you.

He’d just wait a little bit longer.

10 minutes.

15 minutes.

30 minutes.

The woman from behind the ticket booth locked the door as she brought down the metal gate, “Excuse me, did the woman who danced as the white swan leave yet?”

She turned around smacking her gum, “Yeah. Why?” She sized him up, placing a hand on her hip as she cocked an eyebrow.

In-ho felt his face flush, “I was just going to compliment her.” He put his cold hands in the pockets of his coat, shifting his weight onto his other foot.

“Yeah well,” The woman smacks her gum as she walks up towards In-ho, handing him a flier, “They have open practice every Friday. Tickets are only 10,000 won.”

He took the flier from her hand, folding it and sliding it into his pocket, “Thanks.” She nodded her head and walked past him, slipping into her jacket.

In-ho turned and started his walk to his apartment only a block away. When he arrived, he heard the familiar sound of meowing by his front door.

And as he opened the door, he came face to face with his cat waiting on the couch, “I’m sorry Elisabeth, but I’m too tired for a movie tonight.”

She gave an annoyed meow before reluctantly following him into his room, hopping onto the pillow beside his. In-ho got dressed in his pajamas, ready for another dreamless night as he slipped into the sheets next to Elisabeth.

But this time, it wasn't dreamless.

In fact, he had dreamed a very vivid dream.

He had dreamt of you.

And as In-ho woke up the next morning, his hand immediately went to his nightstand, picking up the flier.

It seems that the pretty ballerina has stolen his heart.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Plié! Ron de jambe, retiré! Good!" You held your arms in front of you, your right leg coming up at a bend, "Pas de chat, écarté! Don't rush it, Fiona!"

Your ballet teacher weaved between you and the other students, her tight bun sitting perfectly on her pointed head, "Développé, demi-pointe! No! Not pointe, demi pointe!"

Her thick French accent bellowed throughout the theatre, "Good y/n! Très bien!" A wide smile painted your lips as you continued your dance, your friend Fiona rolling her eyes at your praise. You giggled as you went into second, your arms outstretched to the side.

"Well done! Take a water break and stretch, we'll take five." You brought your hands to your knees, leaning over slightly as you caught your breath.

Fiona dramatically flopped on her back, a hand coming to her forehead as she breathed heavily, "I've died, she's killed me." You tossed her water bottle into her hand with a laugh as you sat next to her, your eyes scanning the theatre.

Familiar faces met your eyes. Elderly couples, former dancers, and little kids with their moms. Oh! And the man who you haven't stopped thinking about.

Wait.

You hit Fiona's shoulder hard, not taking your eyes off him, "Fiona. Fiona, look." She sat up, holding her shoulder as her eyes trailed to where you were subtly pointing.

"Oh, it's the hot dilf." Fiona took a drink from her bottle, watching as In-ho looked around while taking in the architecture.

You slapped her shoulder again, "Shut up! What if he hears you?" You get up from the ground, pulling Fiona up with you and tossing your water bottle back into your bag.

She followed suit, taking one last drink before tossing it in her own, "First off, stop hitting me. It's abuse." You rolled your eyes as you both took your spot by the barre, "Second, he's in the back corner of the theatre, he's not hearing shit. Except for our teacher's constant yelling."

You didn't respond, instead, you continued looking at him. His black turtle neck sweater hugged his biceps perfectly, and you didn't fail to notice his empty finger where a ring would sit.

"Okay! Lets continue! Tendu, plié! Ron de jambe, plié!"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It had been two months since In-ho first started spending his Fridays pining over you.

Each Friday, he would come home, change into an outfit he had dry-cleaned and pressed, feed Elisabeth, and head to the Theatre. He would take his spot in the far left corner, and watch as you danced and laughed with your friends.

He found himself looking forward to Fridays. Which is strange, because he's never looked forward to anything before. Well, besides the games. But he had been so focused on you, that he had fallen behind on his work. Something he'd never done before.

You plagued his mind.

He dreams of you. When he's asleep and awake. He'd find himself walking by the Theatre on other days when you were practicing, hoping to see a glimpse of you.

He found himself listening to Etta James and Nat King Cole more often than not. 'A Sunday Kind Of Love' and 'Unforgettable' filing his apartment as he cooked his dinners. 'My Fair Lady' and 'Gone With The Wind' replacing his classic mystery movies.

He even found himself stopping by flower boutiques, smelling the tulips and Orchids. He wonders what your favorite flower is. Perhaps it is Lilies, the flower that represents innocence and purity.

He wondered a lot if you were a virgin. Often imagining the feeling of your body under his large one late at night when he can't sleep, and when his hand finds itself under his pants.

You had him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you didn't even know it.

Vice Versa, you found yourself looking forward to Fridays as well.

It was the only day you could see the stranger who you had been thinking about constantly.

You liked his style, the way he carried himself with a confidence that intimidated you. His large frame towered over everyone, and he stood out from the crowd. He was perfect. It was as if god himself sculpted him with his own hands.

And oh my god.

You were down bad.

Fiona constantly teased you about it. Making fun of how you stopped wearing your loose cover-up, "Im just hot, that's all Fiona. It's warm in here." You lied. And Fiona was obviously aware of that.

You started offering to stay late with your teacher and help clean up, hoping to catch the stranger before he left. But your teacher always insisted you should go home and rest, and who were you to disobey her.

You've always been perfect. At school, at dance, at everything. When auditions came for Swan Lake, there was no question in anyone's mind about who would get the lead.

But since opening night, things have been slightly different. You often got distracted during practice, your eyes always finding the man in the back corner. You started falling out of your turns, forgetting to bring your pointe shoes, and, worse of all, you had been forgetting to point your toes.

And here you were. Walking to the center of the stage, ready to run through your variation in front of everyone. It was an easy variation, but the end was complicated. You had to do several pirouettes, which you have always been good at. But today you decided to test yourself.

You knew your teacher was becoming increasingly disappointed in you, it plagued your every thought. So, as you spun perfectly, you decided to see how many pirouettes you could perform.

17, 18, 19, 20.

Your leg is wobbling, but you choose to ignore it.

21, 22, 23-

You hear Fiona call your name as your foot slips out of pointe, twisting as you fall on top of it, "Oh my god!" The sickening sound of your ankle cracking causes your heart to drop. The stinging feeling of tears replaced by the overwhelming pain that was now shooting up your leg.

Everyone huddles around you as the teacher runs to call an ambulance, but Fiona kneels at your side, "I know this isn't the right time but, the dilf is running over here right now."

You close your eyes, trying to control your rapid breathing. You wished the stage would open around you and swallow you whole, just put you out of your misery.

In-ho jumps with ease onto the stage, his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbow, "Move." He pushes past the dancers huddling over you and grabs your face.

Your eyes flick open at the feeling of warm hands pressed against your cheeks. Oh my god, he was holding your face. Your heart fluttered but you didn't notice, you were too worried about the fact that your ankle was bent the wrong way.

In-ho's hand softly brushes over your ankle, causing you to wince. At first, he's skeptical about touching you. Was it too fast? Too sudden? Too bold?

But he didn't have time to think it over as he put his strong arms under you, lifting you gently as he stood. Fiona watched with a smirk on her face as she saw shock fill your eyes, his biceps flexing as he pulled you close to his chest.

Without a word, In-ho steps down from the stage and carries you through the exit, "I have an ambulance coming!" Your teacher ran after him yelling, her typically neat bun somewhat loose and frizzy now.

In-ho motions to his pocket and Fiona responds, grabbing his car key and unlocking his Mercedez-benz, "It will take too long. I'll drive her."

For a split second, you catch his eye, and you could've sworn to god your pain disappeared for a moment. And if it were a different circumstance, In-ho would kiss you. He would kiss you right here with you in his arms.

But the shared look was short-lived as he very carefully sets you in the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt gently. Your ballet teacher leans down to the window, "Don't worry! Fiona can dance for you!"

Your heart shattered.

And tears began to flood. You ignored In-ho's words of reassurance as he took off, speeding to the hospital. The drive was quiet except for your soft cries. And In-ho wanted nothing more than to cradle you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

"Im sorry im getting your car dirty." You looked at the tear-stained headrest you laid against, wiping your sore eyes with the back of your hand.

In-ho cuts a car off as he turns, ignoring the beeps from the angry driver, "It's okay. I have another one." The subtle money brag wasn't missed by you. In-ho just wanted to impress you.

"What are you? Like a CEO or something?" You turned to face him, giving a pitiful sniffle as he gave another sharp turn.

He chuckled, and you felt your heart beat faster. Was it because of the adrenaline? Or was it because the man whom you've become obsessed with is quite literally acting like your night in shining armor, "Im... Im a game show host."

You nodded, an impressive smile growing on your face, "That's cool. Im y/n by the way."

He flashes a smile, the same smile from the night you first saw him, and a blush creeps up on your tear-stained cheeks, "You're sitting there, with a fucked up ankle, and you're making small talk?"

You suddenly feel embarrassed. He's just some random guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time, nothing more. "Sorry. Just trying to distract myself."

In-ho frowns. Did he say the wrong thing? His grip tightens on the steering wheel, "No! Don't be sorry. If I'm being honest, I've been dying to know your name."

His eyes flick to you before looking back in front of him, "Im Hwang In-ho." A small smile creeps onto his lips as he pulls to a stop in front of the ER.

"Well, Mr. Hwang, it's nice to meet you."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Well, it looks like you have a fracture." You give a long exasperated sigh as the Doctor holds up the X-rays, "The fibula is fractured below the level of the syndesmosis, which is the joint between the tibia and fibula."

You look at In-ho, who, for some reason, seems more stressed than you do, "What's the healing process like? Will she need surgery?" Your head snapped to the doctor at the mention of surgery. Surgery for dancers is like a death sentence.

No. More. Dancing.

"Fractures like these are considered stable, meaning that they are unlikely to worsen with correct treatment and management. You'll just need to wear a boot for a while." The doctor noticed how your concerned look didn't falter, and gave a sigh before placing a hand on your shoulder, "You can still dance."

The breath you were holding escapes your lips as you feel a heavy weight fall off your shoulders, "Thank you so much." The doctor rubs your shoulder before leaving, instructing the nurse to fit you for a boot.

In-ho watches as you close your eyes, a smile resting on your face. He cocked his head, how could you be so beautiful in a moment like this? His eyes take a minute to trail down your body, taking you in, something he's grown fond of doing.

Your hair is a mess, your cheeks are red and tear-stained, your ankle looks like a snapped twig, and you're picking at your cuticles. But god.

You are perfect.

Just as beautiful now as you were months ago.

An unfamiliar feeling has taken over his chest ever since he saw you. A tightening, warm feeling that he hasn't felt in years. At first, he ignored it. Maybe it was just heartburn? But as it progressed, he got worried. The next thing you know a doctor is laughing in his face.

Calling it 'love'.

In-ho immediately left after he heard that, making sure to write a very passive-aggressive review on Yelp. What doctor diagnosed a patient with 'being in love'?

In-ho was not in love.

...

...

Right?

It wasn't until he watched 'Funny Face' that he realized the estranged doctor was correct. The moment Fred Astaire saw Aubrey Hepburn and was immediately captivated by her beauty, he knew it was true.

He didn't care that he was more than twenty years older than you, or that he had bigger things to worry about, all he cared about was you.

And that made him so confused.

You had managed to captivate his heart, soul, and body. And he felt like a teenager with his first crush all over again. So as he saw you look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, he couldn't help what happened next.

He stood from his chair, taking large steps towards your frame. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him stand between your legs, careful not to hit your ankle.

His big hands reach down and grab your face, slamming your lips into his own. Your eyes grow wide, confusion flashing across your face before slowly giving in, pulling his head down lower.

His touch was gentle, the opposite of his kiss. His hands softly caressed your red cheeks, while his lips hungrily chased after your own.

You tugged at the baby hairs that rested on the back of his neck, desire and hunger feeding off you as he slipped his tongue into your pretty mouth. A low growl escaped his swollen lips, and you felt arousal begin to pool between your thighs.

You whine as he removes his hand from your face and steps back, crossing his arms. His gaze has always been intimidating. But now that he's seen you fall on your ass, cry, and melt under his touch all in one day, it is much more intimidating.

You've been vulnerable in front of him. Something you could never do before. But you didn't care if he saw your flaws, you were perfect to him.

He saw a future when he looked at you. He saw a family, something he had longed for many years ago. He saw hope, love, and promise.

He saw you.

Beautiful, perfect, irresistible you.

And as he looked at you, only one question entered his mind.

"Do you want to meet my cat?"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

a/n: chat. its 2 am. but i am DETERMINED to post this. i just love you guys sm mwah mwah. also, wasn't in a smut mood. still getting used to writing smut LMAO.

also random disclaimer: i have never done ballet. so if any terms are wrong or if my spelling is trash PLS LMK!

@bohemiandelilah @menabuser16 @verouys @speedymagazinewhispers @metalbaby2 @nellabear @marymun @orihime188 @nanascupid @fnl9zer @chasinghxran @crystalizia @auspicious-lilana @machipyun @cdej6 @namelesslosers

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP fanfic idea: You ARE the Father.

Clark Kent gets a call from his old high school situationship. Really, he liked her well enough, but both had agreed they did not want to stay stuck in Smallville forever.

Clark wanted to go to the big city for journalism, and Maddie wanted to go into the sciences - she was unsure if she wanted to do organic chemistry or engineering. His parents supported his dream, Maddie's....not so much.

While she did come from a family of intelligent women, the Paynes believed they should stay on the family farm to support the family. They could not understand why Maddie wanted to be strong and independent woman if all that would bring her was dying alone.

According to them, no man wanted a disobent wife. She argued too much with men and often wouldn't back down from her stance.

Apparently, that made her "unlady" like.

Clark never saw it. Personally, he thought women with backbone, who wouldn't take anyone shit, was insanely attractive. That's why he had approached her at the local science fair where she was steaming by her impressive solar energy powered homemade phone.

Her mother had just finished reminding her that her first place in a small high school fair was nothing to be proud of. It was, after all, only Smallville, and really, there wasn't much competition anyway.

Clark told her that she was likely the smartest person in their entire state and he was in awe by her. Maddie kissed him behind the gym the science fair was being held.

Her family forbade her from dating, which made the kiss somehow more exciting.

They met up regularly to sneak kisses or lend a sympathetic ear. Around their last year of high school, they went a little further then kisses, and really the Kent Barn is not the most comfortable place but it was hidden well enough her family wouldn't know what she was up to and Ma wouldn't question him spending the night there.

All the years of sleeping near the cows to keep them company, since he worried they were lonely, as a child paid off. Despite the numerous times they put Kent barn to work, both knew it was nothing serious.

Maddie needed a break from her family. Clark was more than happy to be her stress relief. He did worry a aweful lot about his powers and the fact he was an alien, so he needed some stress relieving of his own around those years too.

Maddie applied secretly to a big college on the Wayne Scholarship states away, and Clark planned on going to Metropolis as soon as possible for the open intership at the Daily Planet.

They were friends with benefits, but the day graduation came around, they never spoke to each other again. Neither were bitter. They had both known what would be the ending long before it arrived. It would have never worked between them.

Clark wasn't sure what Maddie had wanted after all these years, but being presented a teenage girl- the splitting image of Maddie at that age- who was flouting five feet off the ground was not one of them.

"Jazz, meet Clark Kent, you biological father" Maddie Fenton, for she was married now to the man who had raised Jazz like his own. "Clark, this is Jasmine Fenton...you're daughter"

The man of Steel felt like he's was going to faint.

Or.......

Maddie met Jack in her first semester of college. They get alone really well, and she finds herself with a pregnancy scare before she knows what happened. Sometime between the protrype portal and Jack treating her like an equal, she had found her walls coming down long enough to have a little fun.

The worst part is she is unsure of who the father is, the loveable goof she can see herself spending her life with or the kind gentle famer boy she left behind. It's only two months apart, but it was close enough it could go either way.

She tells Jack the truth, who declares that he doesn't care and gets down on one knee right there and then. Maddie agrees to marry him over the choked tears, blooming happiness and love so strong she feels dizzy from it.

A few months later, she gives birth to her Jazz, and two years later, she has Danny. The Fentons finish school, set up Fenton Works, and raise their family. She never considers telling Clark or getting Jazz tested.

She's Jack Fenton's daughter. That's all there is to it.

Until Jazz one day starts showing signs that Jack is not her father. How does Maddie know? Simple, she recognized the man flying around calling himself Superman, and after hearing of his home planet, and all the little things Clark had been too clumsy to properly cover up back in the day, it clicks.

Her daughter is half Kryptonian and her powers were awakening. Did all Kryptonians unlock thier abilities at the teenage age? Was it a puberty thing for thier kind?

Maddie didn't know, but she couldn't afford to let her daighter go in blind. Metas had tough lives. Who knows what being part alien could do. So she picked up the phone and dialed the man who may have the answers.

Meanwhile, Danny and Jazz are desperately trying to hide the fact that Jazz may have gotten some ghost abilities due to exposure from Phantom's Ghostly Wail and have no idea it's being confused for Kryptonian blood. They were careless in training, and now, similar to that whole fiasco with Spetra and her hospital, Jazz was unable to control her temporary abilities.

Jack is just happy to be there and is unaware of any of his family members' delimas.

[zorosangell]

I LOVE INN!!! I love devoted pathetic men! I need to see them during the time skip tho! What if during the two year training arc (idk who or what she trains under, you can make that up) she happens to stop by the same island zoro and mihawk where stopping by on their way back to Gloom island. It’s been well over a year since they’ve seen each other, and it’s been pure torture for them both (and also the inconvenience of zoro relearning how to properly shine his own swords and fold his laundry the special way he likes it). I’d like to see your take on this!

⛥ﾟ・。 bento

synopsis: part two of inn -- you and zoro have a heartfelt reunion on the sabaody archipelago... with the help of a kindly fisherman.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is DOWN BAD for reader, reader's a cutie, fools pining pretty much.

a/n: i love writing zoro like this

"Hey, gramps," Zoro started, yanking open the flap and entering Isamu's Fresh Fish tent, his eye snapping over to the old man hunched in the corner. "I'm lookin' to do some fishing."

Confused, Old Man Isamu halted his movement, looking up from his basket of lures to find the infamous, three-sword wielding pirate hunter.

Roronoa Zoro.

Of course, being a lonely old man who lived on the outskirts of Sabaody Archipelago, he had no idea who he was.

I mean, why would he need to know?

But even still, he couldn't help the shiver that rolled down his spine at the sight of the moss-head's scowl, its intensity sending a slight pang of fear through the man's old heart.

"No offense, young man, but I wouldn't exactly peg you as the fishing type..."

Zoro sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Normally, you'd be right... I'm supposed to be meeting some friends on this island, but they haven't made it yet, so I'm bored out of my skull."

Scratching the side of his face, he glanced out to sea, a certain sense of homesickness plaguing his chest.

"I used to have someone to do this for me... but she's not around right now. So I need something to keep me entertained while I wait."

It felt odd offering to do the fishing himself, as he could barely even remember the last time he picked up a fishing rod.

But the feeling was nothing new, as for the last two years the swordsman had been forced to take up the tasks that you had been so insistent on doing for him.

Fishing... Laundry... Shining his swords...

Even dressing his wounds, which, although Perona did for him, still didn't feel the same as when you did it.

It wasn't long before he realized how much he took you for granted, and how subpar his domestic skills were in comparison to yours.

He bristled, annoyed with the aching throb of his heart.

God, he felt pathetic...

A measly two years apart, and all of a sudden he was a ship without a rudder.

"So, you think you can help me out or not?" he asked, snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Sure. I'll finish getting everything we need ready and then meet you on my boat right over there," Isamu nodded with a warm smile, standing to his full height and pointing toward a small fishing boat moored to the shore. "We'll have to wait a moment, though. A young woman is supposed to be joining me."

Zoro's brow raised, intrigued.

"Young woman?" he asked, expecting some elaboration.

"Why yes! She's been fishing with me for the past two days and is just such a sweetheart!" the old man gushed. "She went into town to go grab us some lunch before we left. Said something about picking up some polishing equipment, too."

That caught the swordsman's attention.

"Polishing equipment?"

"Yeah, for swords," Isamu nodded, leaning in a little closer to the swordsman and lowering his voice. "Between you and me... I think her boyfriend's a pirate. I always catch her lookin' out at the sea, like she's waitin' for something."

He gave Zoro a pat on the back with a small chuckle, a little sorry.

"It's a shame. If I hadn't known, I would've introduced you two. Y'look like her type."

Intrigued, Zoro looked down at himself, fighting off the thunder in his chest.

'Could it be...?'

"What'd she look like?" Zoro asked, straight to the point. "About this tall? (h/l), (h/c) hair? (s/c) skin? Nice (e/c) eyes? Pretty smile?"

Quickly, he shoved his hand into his robe, hurriedly rummaging around until his fingers locked on a piece of crumbled paper.

"Like this?" he asked, hopefully, pulling out your wanted poster and holding it up for the old man to see.

He'd managed to get his hands on it when he joined Mihawk on a grocery run and found it posted up on a fruit stall.

When no one was looking, he shoved it in his pocket, and kept it with him ever since.

Sure, it was a little stalker-ish, but when it came to you he didn't really care.

"Yes! That's her!" Isamu nodded, turning to the man. "She said she's been waiting for some friends to show, too!"

Instantly, the pieces clicked, the old man suddenly realizing your relationship with the swordsman.

He was he thing you were looking out to sea for.

With a knowing smirk, he gave Zoro a slight nudge, amused.

"Oh, ho ho! You must be the fella she's been searchin' for..." he grinned, almost as a congratulations. "You're a lucky guy! She reminds me of my Emi."

With a faint roll of his eyes, Zoro sighed, trying to muffle the burn of his cheeks by turning away.

That is... until a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Hey, watch it, asshole! That bento's for the old man!" you spat, the sound of a scuffle occurring in a nearby alleyway.

'(y/n)!'

An embarrassing amount of excitement soared through his chest, a certain glimmer returning to his eye at the sound of your voice.

Springing into action, he sprinted toward the noise, quickly drawing his sword.

Whoever was on the other side of the altercation wasn't going to be standing by the end of it.

"Wait, young man!"

But Isamu was too late, as the swordsman was already at the mouth of the alley.

Bring his feet to a screeching halt, Zoro lowered himself into an offensive stance, taking a gauge of the situation as he prepped his attack.

You were standing off with a large man, who was about five times your size, huge with muscles and practically cracked out on testosterone.

An opponent like him would've sent you running for the hills two years ago.

But you stared him down with conviction, a small smirk quirking on your lips.

And without warning, you broke into a sprint, charging the man head on.

You had to calculate this just right, or you were going to get squashed like a bug.

Zoro watched with surprise as you used your running start to slide between the thug's legs, nimbly scaling his body like a tree and swirling yourself around to pull him off balance.

"The hell?!"

He tried to grab at you, but your movements were too quick and it wasn't long before you were sat right on his shoulders, your thighs locking tightly around his neck.

"Gimme back the damn bento, you bastard!"

Effortlessly, you threw around your body weight, flipping both of you over and slamming his head into the ground, creating a small crater.

But you weren't done.

With a soft grunt, and a small jerk of your legs, you twisted his neck with a sickening crack—the action sending a warm tingle through Zoro's stomach.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't find your demonstration incredibly hot.

You pulled yourself up off the ground with a chuckle, using your foot to poke the man, who was down for the count, before snatching the lunchbox back from his grasp.

"Have a nice nap," you wished, cheekily, pulling down your eyelid and sticking out your tongue.

But, when you turned your attention to the alley's exit, your eyes landed on a certain green-haired swordsman—the star of a multitude of different daydreams you'd enjoyed throughout your two years apart.

Time seemed to slow down as your eyes met, him having been staring at you since he entered the alley.

'Gods...'

He was huge, way more muscular than what he once was, and now donned a scar on his left eye, which was permanently shut.

His chest was exposed in his robe, showing off his big pecs, and his hair was still just as green and unruly as you remembered.

Lighting up like the world's brightest Christmas tree, you let out a loud, dramatic gasp, dropping the lunchbox in shock.

"Zoro!" you cheesed, completely forgetting about the bento as you rushed toward him.

"(y/n)! You made it!" Zoro broke into a wide grin, utterly relieved to see you were okay.

Launching yourself into his arms, you tackled him to the ground, pulling him into you as he let out a few laughs at your enthusiasm.

"Ah! Look at you! Those muscles! That hair! You look great! I missed you!" you squealed, ecstatic to see your favorite guy in the flesh.

Though, in your excitement, you had failed to realize you were suffocating the swordsman with your breasts.

"Mished you, twoo!" he nodded, muffled, frantically patting your back. "But yer killin' me!"

Finally noticing, you quickly pulled back, flashing him a sheepish smile.

Relieved, he took in an aggressive gasp, before turning to you with his grin once again.

"That was a new special move, huh? I've never seen you do something like that before!" he asked, eagerly.

"You noticed, eh?" you raised a brow. "Yeah, it's a maneuver my master taught me back on Kibi, a martial arts island."

A proud smirk rose to your lips, having waited to tell him of your success for so long.

"It was hard work... and I got knocked on my ass a bunch... but the monks at my temple managed to beat some kung fu techniques into me," you cheesed, cheekily. "I might not be on par with you yet... but it's only a matter of time."

His eyes found yours, and the way you were looking at him made his chest roar.

You were making it a bit hard for him to focus.

He was already holding himself back on a thread of sanity, and now he had to deal with the fact that you looked like a goddess in human form, and smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Your curves were curvier, your hips were dippier, and you now had an unspoken confidence that could bring any man to his knees.

Literally and figuratively.

You had him like a hook on a line, only he didn't want to be set free.

You found his eyes, slightly confused, as his expression morphed into one you'd never seen.

"I. Love. You." he stated, firm and breathless.

Your eyes shot wide, a sharp tinge of red burning onto your cheeks.

The floodgates were opened.

There was no going back.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours, hard, unloading well over two years worth of pining.

You sank into it almost immediately, matching his fervor as you rested your hands on his chest, grabbing him by this robe and pulling him even closer.

The two of you moved together in perfect sync, fitting like puzzle pieces, as you kept up with his rhythm.

He grasped you by the small of your back, pressing you further into him and giving your hips a little squeeze, earning a quiet squeak.

Close wasn't close enough.

He wanted you even closer than that.

He wanted you so much, every part of him in contact with you was on fire.

But, alas, you two were human, and air would need eventually.

The two of you separated with a gasp, cheeks flushed and foreheads resting on each other.

"I don't think you have any idea how long I've been waiting to do that," he smirked, catching his breath.

You smiled, sliding your hands up from his chest to his shoulders.

"I think I do," you confessed, looking up at him with those sparkling, (e/c) eyes of yours.

'Fuuuuuuck...'

He leaned in closer, about to say something else when, of course, he was interrupted.

"Hate to break up a touchin' moment, kids..." Old Man Isamu chimed with a knowing smirk, the two of you snapping your heads up with surprise. "But might I suggest the inn across the street?"

You both separated, for real this time, and stood up, you straightening out the wrinkles in your clothes as you glanced at the building.

Without warning, Zoro scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder, forcing you to yelp in surprise as he turned around to walk across the street.

"Zoro!"

"Thanks, old man!" Zoro waved with his free-hand, unable to fight the pep in his step as his grip tightened around your thighs.

He cracked a smile, glancing at you on his shoulder with an expression Isamu could only attribute to a man in love.

"Your bento's somewhere over there, sir!" you called, limp, and horribly embarrassed as your swordsman dragged you away. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry, dear!" Isamu assured, waving back. "You kids be safe!"

It made his day to see two young people so utterly smitten with each other, as that seemed to be slowly becoming a rarity.

You both reminded him so much of how he and Emi used to be...

Even still, he couldn't help but dreamily sigh, watching as you two entered the inn, playfully bickering like an old, married couple.

'Ah, young love...'

[deunmiu-dessie]

price, after seeing you with kids, vows to himself that he'll get you pregnant.

  "i'm so happy you guys could make it!"

    john watches fondly as you smile. it's wide and genuine, the action making your nose scrunch up; your head tilting to the side to mimic the woman's excitement─ and john can hardly take his gaze off of you. your eyes glimmer at the sight of your heavily pregnant best friend and the woman watches with a soft smile as the two of you make your way up their driveway. 

 your body is tucked away underneath john's arm, the usual warmth of your perfume; a sweet and spicy blend of saffron and sugared vanilla, has him unable to keep his hands off of you and he makes it obvious with the way his thumb rubs back and forth over your bare shoulder. and you're just as guilty as he is, with the way your hand is nestled snuggly in the back pocket of his jeans, the other stationed right atop his hand that rests affectionately on your shoulder. 

when the two of you can make it to gatherings in your neighborhood, there's bound to be talk and swooning about you and john the next day. most women were envious that even after being together for years, it seemed like the two of you were still in your honeymoon phase.

 "jas! babe, what are you doing up?" your voice is a teasing lilt as you shimmy your way out from under john's arm, looking back at him briefly to flash him a pleased smile. however, it's different from the one you sent jasmine earlier, it's softer, intimate, and familiar and it warms his belly better than bourbon ever could; his eyes soften and he smiles back, the crow's feet around his eyes deepening. 

despite john only having a few days off until his next mission, which he had wanted to spend with you, cuddled up next to the fireplace and watching movies, or perhaps cooking and baking with each other, all lovey-dovey and tête-à-tête─ you had instead asked if he could spare a day and go to a cookout hosted by a mutual friend. 

of course, he couldn't say no to you. not when you looked so reluctant to ask in the first place, with your eyebrows furrowed and a small frown marring your lips─ the same lips he had languidly kissed until it flipped right side up, with gentle murmurs of reassurance. besides, john didn't mind jasmine's husband. tom was a retired colonel of the army and they had hit it off quite quickly, especially given john's position. 

  reluctantly, john's eyes drift away from where you stand hugging jasmine, immediately spotting tom who is situated with a few other men at the grill. sucking in a breath, john made his way over to them, a smile splitting his cheeks when tom notices him, his tongs clanging against the metal. "well i'll be damned, if it isn't john, fucking, price." 

 the two men join hands briefly, "tommy, i've been gone a few months and she's already pregnant again." john chuckles softly at tom's sheepish look, the man's cheeks pinkening. "m'surprised y'r balls haven' shriveled up yet." john finishes, dropping into a squat to pluck a lone water nestled amongst the beers. “well, what can i say? she’s all over me!” tom, through his boisterous laughter at his own joke, notices the bottle and sends john a smirk, "you gone in a few days?"

 john grunts, hoping to save himself from the conversation, talk of work right now would only annoy him. tom clasps him on the shoulder firmly and sends him a mocking grin, perhaps this is why john liked tom, banter flowed naturally between the two of them. john was reminded of gaz time and time again when holding a conversation with the retired colonel. "it's as i said before. maybe it's time for you to settle down, you're not getting any younger."

  john grunts at that one too, eyes scanning the bustling cook-out to look for your comforting presence. he immediately finds you amongst your group of friends, a newborn babe nestled in the crook of your arms delicately and other children playing a simple version of tag around your legs. you're gazing down at the baby with envious adoration, eyes sparkling with awe and something akin to being maternal and it knocks the breath from his throat, his heart swelling within his chest at the sight of you. 

   and for a moment, he pictures that you're holding his child in your arms and that those are his kids circling your legs. and it's when your eyes somehow find his, your smile shy and your eyes almost pleading, that he swears to himself that he'll get you pregnant. and an ache to see your belly swollen with his child starts in his chest before traveling straight to his cock. tom chuckles, it's a knowing and judgment-free look. "i guess your mind is made up, huh captain?"

connected with this post!

[count-on-mi]

Fun in the tour (Jihyo, Tzuyu)

TWICE's concert in Indonesia has just ended, and all the members gathered at the celebration banquet to have a drink.

Tzuyu, who had always been relatively introverted, suddenly hugged the leader Jihyo's arm and said, " Jihyo Eooni, I'm so lonely...", with a confused look on her rosy face.

" What's wrong, Tzuyu?" Jihyo asked with concern. She knew that Tzuyu had not been able to take a good rest due to the busy work. ‘I... I haven't done that kind of thing for a long time... I... I haven't had sex for a long time recently..." Tzuyu said softly, her eyes a little wandering, "I really miss... The feeling of being penetrated hardly by a man's cock..." "Huh? ! " Jihyo's face suddenly turned red after hearing Tzuyu's words, but she also understood Tzuyu's mood. After all, they are young girls in their prime, and it is inevitable that they will have sexual needs. Jihyo was startled by these sudden words. She jumped and comforted: "It's okay, it's normal if you are too busy at work. "

" But ... but I really miss that feeling ... being penetrated roughly by a man ... ahh ~ the thought of it makes my heart beat faster ..." Tzuyu gasped softly as she spoke.

" Tzuyu, you are really ..." Jihyo looked at Tzuyu, whose face was flushed, and felt that her lower body could not help but feel warm.

In order to help Tzuyu relieve stress and to allow the two of them to relax better, Jihyo suggested that they go to the jjimjilbang in the hotel to take a rest together.

"Okay~ Jihyo eooni ~" Tzuyu nodded excitedly. The two of them were a little drunk, so they didn't care and walked into the men's jjimjilbang room naked.

The two of them were sitting naked on the tatami, Tzuyu's pink breasts stood erect on her chest, the blush spread to the root of her neck, Jihyo also stripped naked, and a trace of darkness could be seen between her slender legs.

" Tzuyu, if we go in like this, we will definitely be noticed by other men ... But it would be nice if we can find a suitable person to have fun with ..." Jihyo smiled evilly and stroked her body.

"Well... let's wait for a while... I'm also looking forward to the feeling of being violated..." Tzuyu leaned against Jihyo, her hands involuntarily holding Jihyo's breasts, and gently rubbing them with her fingers.

The two caressed each other, and their sexual desire gradually increased. Tzuyu's breasts changed into various shapes in Jihyo's hands, and the nipples stood up high; Jihyo's clitoris also became more and more congested under Tzuyu's fingertips, secreting slippery nectar.

" Hmm ... Tzuyu's hands are really good ..." Jihyo lay on her back on the tatami with her legs spread wide, while Tzuyu lay between her legs and sucked her labia vigorously.

" Hmm ... ah ... Jihyo Eooni's pussy is so sweet ..." Tzuyu sucked the nectar vigorously, inserting her tongue into the inner wall of the pussy and stirring it, making Jihyo moan out from the licking.

" Haah ... go deeper ... yes ... right there ... ahhh ..." Jihyo grabbed Tzuyu's hair and rocked it back and forth. Tzuyu moaned in response, and the two bodies were in the jjimjilbang. The room was intertwined.

Tzuyu raised her head, with a trace of crystal clear nectar hanging from the corner of her mouth, and a lustful blush on her face. She looked at Jihyo with big watery eyes, "Jihyo eooni ... Are we going too far ... what if someone comes in ?" What should we do ..."

"It's okay ... If someone really comes in ... we'll let him join us ..." Jihyo gently licked the liquid from the corner of Tzuyu's mouth, kneading her erect nipples with her palms, " Besides, it's impossible to do this now. If it can’t satisfy us ... it’s better to let more people enjoy us ..."

Tzuyu nodded and buried her head between Jihyo's legs again. Their breathing became more and more rapid, and the whole room was enveloped in a lustful atmosphere...

After a while, a strange man opened the door of the steam room. When he saw two naked beauties in the room, they were flirting with each other and he was stunned.

Jihyo raised her head and glanced at the man, only to see his eyes widened and his face turned red. Then he turned around and wanted to escape from the room.

" Wait! " Jihyo shouted to him, and the man had to stand there, looking at Jihyo and Tzuyu helplessly.

"Sir, please sit down..." Jihyo raised her fingers at the man, "We two beauties will not hurt you..."

The man hesitated for a moment, then sat cautiously in the corner of the room, lowering his head and not daring to look at Jihyo and Tzuyu again.

Jihyo smiled and turned back to her lust with Tzuyu again. The two were engaging in more intense intimacy within the sight of the man.

Tzuyu sat on her knees on the ground, Jihyo raised her buttocks slightly, Tzuyu buried her head between Jihyo's legs, her tongue moved back and forth between the clitoris and anus, and her hands kneaded Jihyo's breasts, occasionally pulling on the nipples.

Jihyo was half lying on the floor, enjoying Tzuyu's superb oral while also paying attention to the man's movements.

Although he didn't understand the language, judging from his expression, he seemed to be stunned by the sight in front of him and completely unable to understand why these two beauties would behave like this without any shame.

Jihyo looked at the man's shy expression and knew that he had become their prey. So Jihyo nibbled Tzuyu's earlobe and whispered in Tzuyu's ear: "Tzuyu, do you want to try a new toy? "

"Ah... as long as it's a man... it's okay..." Tzuyu had already been controlled by lust, and at this moment she was satisfied as long as someone was willing to have sex with her.

After receiving an affirmative answer, Jihyo moaned even more unbridled, and the hot breath from her mouth blew over Tzuyu's neck and ears, making Tzuyu's body tremble again.

"Hmm... Tzuyu... you're so good... faster... ah... my lower part is so itchy... I want it so much..." Jihyo deliberately raised her voice so that the man could hear it. Their conversation also increased the intensity of Tzuyu's hands. The two breasts continued to change shapes in her hands, and the sensitive nipples were pinched and hardened.

Tzuyu was so teased by Jihyo that she couldn't control herself, so she simply raised her hips in the direction of the man. Her pink labia were slightly everted due to the previous orgasm, and the gurgling love juice soaked her entire vagina.

Tzuyu kneaded her other breast with one hand, reached down with the other hand, gently squeezed the erect clitoris with her thumb and middle finger, then slid into the inner wall of the vagina, rubbing and rotating at the entrance of the vagina.

"Hmm...Tzuyu...you are really good at playing...look at how bad you are..." Jihyo didn't seem to notice Tzuyu's little moves, he was just immersed in Tzuyu's ventriloquism, shaking her buttocks to accommodate , while muttering and moaning.

The man originally didn't dare to watch this lewd scene anymore, but Tzuyu's deliberately provocative actions were so tempting that he couldn't help but sneak a glance at Tzuyu's lower body.

This glance just happened to see Tzuyu's dripping vagina, as well as the scene of her moving her hands up and down her private parts. The man immediately awakened the desire in his lower body, and the giant thing under his crotch instantly set up a tent.

Jihyo noticed the man's reaction and was secretly happy - their first step of the plan had worked.

Although the man didn't know what Jihyo and Tzuyu were talking about, their lustful moans hit his eardrums over and over again, causing his sanity to gradually disappear.

Coupled with Tzuyu's lewd masturbation posture, it made him even more horny. Even though he didn't understand what they were doing, his physical instinct made his thick and long cock fully erect uncontrollably, pushing up a huge bulge in his pants.

Jihyo saw that the man was fascinated by her and Tzuyu's performance, and the time was ripe, so she slowly crawled towards the man.

The man suddenly came to senses and realized that the giant thing under his crotch had completely betrayed him and was craving for some comfort. However, when he saw everything in front of him clearly again, he saw that Jihyo's hand had reached to his pants chain, wrapping his hot cock through the fabric, and gently moving it up and down.

"Ah...wu..." The man couldn't help but moan happily, the pleasure from his lower body spread throughout his body, and his reason was once again thrown away.

Tzuyu also changed her position. She sat cross-legged on the ground, spread her legs widely, and quickly moved her fingers in and out of her vagina, bringing out a large amount of juice. The other hand was mercilessly kneading her nipples, kneading her already towering breasts into various shapes.

The man was attracted by Tzuyu's lewd appearance, and he was also addicted to the pleasure brought by Jihyo's techniques. Although he didn't understand what Jihyo and Tzuyu were talking about, he also knew that their target was his fully erect cock.

" Ah ... do you want to fuck us ..." Jihyo slapped her cheek with the man's cock wantonly, casting an ambiguous look at the man, " If you want ... you can do it now ..."

Although the man didn't understand what Jihyo was saying, he could definitely guess what she meant. So the man kept nodding like a well-behaved dog, staring at Jihyo with longing eyes.

Seeing that the man had succumbed to her own methods, Jihyo teased him even more unscrupulously. She grabbed the big breasts on her chest, wrapped the man's thick and long cock in them, and started rubbing them up and down.

Jihyo smiled proudly, lowered her head, stretched out her tongue and gently licked the man's glans. The precum fluid flowing out of the tips was immediately swallowed into her mouth, making a slurping sound.

Lubricated by sweat and precum, Jihyo's titjobs became smoother. She adjusted the distance between her breasts so that the man's cock could sink completely between her breasts. Sometimes she would twist her waist and use her nipples to stimulate the man's glans.

The man was impressed by Jihyo's superb skills. He breathed in so much pleasure that his muscles tensed up. Jihyo noticed that the man was on the verge of climax, so he kneaded her breasts harder and increased the speed of friction.

At this time, Tzuyu, who was not willing to be alone, also stopped masturbating and walked to the man's side. She grabbed the man's right hand and guided it to cover her labia.

" Please..." Tzuyu changed from her usual arrogant attitude, with a look of grievance in her eyes, and looked at the man pitifully, "Please touch me... My lower body is so itchy... I want you to stop it...."

Tzuyu's words touched the man like a spell, and he desperately put his hand on Tzuyu's pussy. The two petal-like labia opened slightly in his hand, and his fingers felt a wet and sticky feeling.

"Hmm..." Tzuyu let out a short moan, and the inner walls of her vagina tightened involuntarily, trying to suck the man's fingers into it.

The man's fingers lingered at the entrance of Tzuyu's pussy for a while, feeling the rhythm of the surrounding muscles. Then suddenly with a burst of energy, three fingers were neatly inserted into the inner wall of the hole.

"Ahhh!!!" Tzuyu cried out unexpectedly, her pussy suddenly contracted, and she swallowed all the man's fingers.

"It's so deep...ah...don't...be so hasty..." Tzuyu raised her head, her red lips slightly parted, and thin beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

The man felt extremely comfortable being pinched by Tzuyu's pussy. He thrust his fingers more and more in and out, groping around in the pussy, and after finding Tzuyu's most sensitive point, he began to press it repeatedly.

"Ah... there... it doesn't work... I’m going to break..." Tzuyu groaned in a daze, and a warm current surged out of her vagina, soaking the man's palm.

Jihyo saw Tzuyu being played so wildly by a man, and she was also burning with desire. She freed the man's cock from the slit of her breasts, then leaned down and gently kissed the glans with her lips.

"Hmm..." The man was stunned by Jihyo's oral skills. Jihyo's tongue flexibly roamed around the glans, sometimes deep into the depression on the glans, sometimes lightly scraping at the frenulum, giving the man unprecedented pleasure.

Under the double offensive of Tzuyu and Jihyo, the man quickly reached his limit.

Just when the man was about to reach climax, Jihyo suddenly stopped the titjob. This sudden feeling of emptiness confused the man, and he looked at Jihyo in confusion.

The next second, Jihyo's move made the man stunned - she took the initiative to sit on the man's body, pointed her already muddy pussy at the man's cock, and then slowly sat down.

"Hmm..." As soon as Jihyo sat down, the man's cock was completely inserted into the pussy, and was wrapped and sucked by the layers of voluptuous meat inside.

The man's rationality was completely disconnected. He stared at Jihyo's rising and falling chest, watching it draw two snow-white arcs in the air.

At the same time, he did not ignore Tzuyu. The man's fingers were still pumping into Tzuyu's pussy, bringing wave after wave of water.

" Ah ... your fingers ... so good ..." Tzuyu moaned, the inner walls of her pussy constantly squeezing the man's fingers, trying to push them deeper.

The man was fascinated by the two sluts Jihyo and Tzuyu, so he could only keep increasing the force, causing the two of them to rock and roll, enjoying the ultimate pleasure.

Jihyo's cowgirl sex skills are very good. Sometimes she swings her waist up and down quickly, causing the man's cock to rub against her vagina at high speed; sometimes she rotates her hips in circles, allowing the man's cock to rub against the G-spot deep in her vagina.

" Ah ... it's too deep ... I will be broken ..." Jihyo was so distracted by the man's fucking that she uttered unclear words. She raised her arms and put her arms around the man's neck, taking the initiative to give him a sweet kiss.

The man was conquered by Jihyo's passionate kissing skills and immediately stuck out his tongue to intertwine her lips and tongue.

In this way, the two reached climax at the same time during a passionate kiss. The man's cum ejaculated fiercely into Jihyo's body, and Jihyo also cummed due to excessive vaginal stimulation, and a stream of honey flowed out of the joint between the two.

The man withdrew from Jihyo with satisfaction, and then moved on to Tzuyu. He pulled Tzuyu's ankles apart and pushed her down to the ground.

"Ah..." Tzuyu felt the man's hot breath close to her eyes and closed her eyes shyly.

The man leaned down and licked his tongue all the way up Tzuyu's thighs, finally reaching between the two labia.

" Well ... you are ..." Tzuyu squirmed uncomfortably, but she also enjoyed the licking of the man's lips and tongue.

The man didn't answer, but sucked Tzuyu's private parts harder. Tzuyu's pussy was soon flooded again, and the man's tongue was filled with streams of honey.

"Hmm... so sweet..." The man tasted Tzuyu's taste intoxicatedly, and at the same time he did not forget to rub the bud on Tzuyu's chest with his hands.

Tzuyu's whole body became soft after being played with by the man, and her pussy was tightening and opening, wanting more men to invade.

The man felt Tzuyu's desire, so he finally stepped forward and started fucking her vigorously.

Tzuyu was so excited to be possessed by a man again. She squeezed the man's waist tightly, wishing to swallow him whole.

"Ah... it's so deep... Tzuyu is going to be broken..." Tzuyu moaned, feeling the violent impact of the man's cock inside her body.

After regaining her breath, Jihyo also crawled behind the man. She held the man's elbow with one hand and pinched the man's nipple with the other hand.

"Hmm...you guys are really having fun..." Jihyo looked at Tzuyu being fucked to the point of ecstasy, and she couldn't help but want to join in.

So Jihyo stuck out her tongue, licking the sweat from the man's back, while pushing the man to fuck Tzuyu faster.

" Ah ... slow down ... I'm going to die ..." Tzuyu wailed, but her movements betrayed her inner desire.

Jihyo and Tzuyu were enjoying the extreme pleasure brought by the man's cock, while they were discussing its size and staying power.

" Tzuyu, this is the longest and thickest cock I have ever seen ..." Jihyo gasped.

"Yeah... Me too... He always hit the deepest point..." Tzuyu agreed.

" And it lasted so long ..." Jihyo said in surprise.

"Yes...I have never been fucked by a man for so long..." Tzuyu's eyes were blurred, completely immersed in the orgasm of sex.

Although the man could not understand the conversation between the two, he knew from Tzuyu's lustful expression that she had reached countless orgasms. So the man increased his speed and ejaculated another stream of thick semen in the deepest part of Tzuyu.

"Ah!!!" Tzuyu was so stimulated by this powerful ejaculation that she became incontinent. her urine and pussy splashed out at the same time, reaching the ultimate climax of the night.

The man's cock had just been pulled out of Tzuyu's body, and it was covered with a mixture of nectar and semen. Jihyo couldn't wait to kneel down on the man's crotch and swallow the filthy cock into her mouth.

" Hmm ..." The man hummed comfortably, and the warmth of Jihyo's mouth and smooth tongue quickly revived him.

Even if they don't understand each other, Jihyo can quickly tell by the man's reaction whether he is hard again. She swallowed the man's cock deeply into her mouth and started using it one after the other.

" Wow ... it feels so good ..." The man held Jihyo's hair and moved in and out at the same speed as her.

In this way, the two of them had another passionate oral sex next to Tzuyu's weak body.

" Look, what you fucked us Tzuyu into ..." Jihyo raised her eyes and looked at Tzuyu lying on the ground. Tzuyu's expression at the moment was a mixture of pain and satisfaction, and her lower body was in a mess.

"It's all because your cock is so big..." Jihyo winked charmingly, still holding the man's cock in her mouth.

The man's blood was so excited by Jihyo's services that he swelled rapidly in Jihyo's mouth, preparing to enter Jihyo's pussy again.

"Okay...I'm going in..." The man held down Jihyo's head, and after thrusting dozens more times into her mouth, he finally pulled out his cock.

Jihyo lay down on the side knowingly, spread her legs and exposed her wet pussy, waiting for the man's invasion.

The man didn't let Jihyo wait any longer. He put Jihyo's thighs on his shoulders, then pushed up hard, and the entire cock was submerged inside Jihyo.

"Oh..." Jihyo moaned loudly, and was immediately drowned by the man's violent fucking...

Throughout the night, the man had crazy sex with Jihyo and Tzuyu inside the steam room. Even though the three of them didn't understand each other, the frequency and intensity of their sex had already enabled them to develop a certain tacit understanding.

With just a look from the man, Jihyo and Tzuyu knew they had to change their positions or tighten their pussies to accommodate the man's impact.

Although the man could not understand the Korean conversation between the two, he could tell what they were going through from their cries and movements.

Whenever Jihyo and Tzuyu let out high-pitched moans, the man would speed up his thrusts and hit them deep inside their bodies with greater force. If they whimper or cry, the man will slow down and give them some time to breathe.

Gradually, the three of them also established a subtle way of communication through silent sex. Sometimes with just a look or a touch, they can read each other's needs and desires.

The man will rub Jihyo's clitoris before penetration , allowing her to reach a small orgasm before entering her. Tzuyu, on the other hand, likes men to rub circles on her back and gently scratch her sensitive spots with his glans until she twists her body to indicate that she can enter.

Although there was not much verbal communication, this dual communication of body and spirit allowed the three of them to reach unprecedented heights overnight. They use their primal instincts to please each other, and ultimately reach the ultimate level of satisfaction together.

Tzuyu and Jihyo's perfect cooperation was very helpful to the man. When he pulled his cock out of Tzuyu's body, the two of them immediately raised their heads and stuck out their tongues as if they were ready to cum.

Even if the man couldn't understand what the two were saying, he could tell just by looking at their actions that they were begging him to spray their faces with semen.

Such a lustful sight made the man unable to control his desire anymore. He held Tzuyu and Jihyo's hair and pressed their heads towards his cock.

"Hmm..." Tzuyu and Jihyo were forced to lower their heads and let the man's cock penetrate their mouths.

Suddenly, a stream of thick white fluid spurted out from the man's body, and all of it hit Tzuyu and Jihyo's faces.

" Ah ..." Tzuyu and Jihyo moaned in pleasure. They closed their eyes and let the man's semen spread on their faces.

The semen was ejaculated for a long time, and Tzuyu and Jihyo were washed over and over again until the man could no longer cum.

The man then let go of their hair, allowing them to raise their heads and take a deep breath of air.

"You're so good..." Tzuyu and Jihyo exclaimed at the same time. They wiped a handful of semen on their faces and put it into their mouths, chewing it with satisfaction.

Even if a man doesn't understand their Korean, he can understand how much they appreciate his sexual prowess. He took one last look at their sexy faces covered in semen before falling to the ground and falling asleep.

Jihyo and Tzuyu smiled at each other and began to lick the semen from each other's faces.

"Hmm...his cum is so delicious..." Tzuyu bent down and stuck out her tongue to lick the semen from the edge of Jihyo's lips.

"Yeah...the taste is very rich..." Jihyo also leaned forward, inserted the tip of her tongue into Tzuyu's mouth, and licked the semen on her face with her fragrant tongue.

The two of them licked the semen from each other's faces like two bitches until there was no more drop left.

"Look at our clits..." Jihyo pointed to her labia that was red and swollen from being fucked by a man, and looked at Tzuyu again.

Tzuyu's labia were also swollen, and there was still some wet cum on them.

"He is so powerful..." Tzuyu sighed, "My pussy is still aching..."

"Me too...but the pleasure brought by this man is really unstoppable..." Jihyo also agreed.

The two couldn't help but recall the man's performance just now. His sexual ability and durability exceeded their expectations.

" I bet that even if we invite him again now, he won't refuse ..." Tzuyu said with a smirk.

"Of course...he is a man who is never tired..." Jihyo also showed a look of longing.

Before the man woke up, Tzuyu and Jihyo decided to play with him again.

The two crawled under the man, each hugged one side of his thigh, and then leaned down together, teasing the man's cock with the tip of their tongues.

"Hmm... so hard..." Tzuyu and Jihyo exclaimed at the same time.

Even after a few hours of crazy sex, the man's cock was still as hard as ever.

" Come on ... let's make it soft again ..." Jihyo said, and she and Tzuyu swallowed the man's cock together.

"Uh...uh..." A low moan came from the man's throat. Although he was still asleep, he seemed to be responding to the stimulation of the two's oral sex.

"It's getting bigger again..." Tzuyu spit out his cock and watched with pleasure as it stood between the two of them.

"Of course...we can't just let it go soft so easily..." Jihyo leaned down again and continued to lick the man's cock.

Tzuyu followed suit, and their tongues slid along the cock, sometimes intertwining, and sometimes each sucking on different parts of the shaft.

Although the man was still half asleep, the offensive of their sweet tongues still successfully aroused his physiological reaction.

Soon, Tzuyu and Jihyo felt that the cock in their mouths was getting bigger and bigger, and a strong male smell also spread in their noses.

"He is about to cum..." Jihyo quickly reminded Tzuyu. The two of them increased their sucking intensity at the same time, and quickly played with the man's glans with the tip of their tongues.

"Hmm...!" The man reached climax again under the stimulation of the two men, and a stream of thick white fluid spurted out from the tip of his cock, all falling into Tzuyu and Jihyo's mouths.

"Hmm...!" The two of them cried out in surprise at the same time, hurriedly holding their cocks in their mouths, for fear of missing any drop of semen.

The man's ejaculation continued for a while until no more came out.

"It's so delicious..." Tzuyu and Jihyo exchanged a bite before swallowing it all.

The two of them licked and cleaned the man's cock again, making sure that it was completely clean before they stopped.

"We should go..." Jihyo pushed the man gently, "Don't wake him up..."

"Hmm..." Tzuyu nodded, and the two put on their clothes and sneaked out of the room.

"If there is a chance next time, we must find him again..." Tzuyu murmured to herself.

"No problem..." Jihyo also smiled expectantly, "Believe me, he can come to us anytime he wants..."

[aventurineswife]

hear me out!

Reader was in a relationship with aventurine and Dr. Ratio, BUT! It was like Aventurine and Rayio liked eachother more than they liked the reader!

You following along?

Good! Cause I'm not done!

THEN! Reader goes to bar gets a little tipsy (read as drunk) and ends up venting their sadness and frustration to kind strangers willing to listen! (Aka Argenti and Boothill!) Things end up almost getting, suggestive to say the least before reader ends up stopping any more advances and leaves, little does reader know that her encounter with Argenti and Boothill would leave them desperate for more...

(Basicaly Yandere poly Argenti and Boothill x Reader)

And, this is just something else I wanted to say but what if Aventurine and Ratio notice reader kinda drifting away, ad they notice that reader is starting to make more friends and reader starts trying to spend less time with them? Maybe somehow they findout Argenti and Boothill are obsessed with reader? I see Aventurine and Dr. Ratio being possessive of things or people they consider "theirs" and slowly they start becoming as obsessive as Boothill and Argenti and now reader has 2 couples vying for her attention!

( I totally understand if this is to much or confusing!)

“I Wanna Make You Mine”

Summary: You are in a relationship with Aventurine and Ratio, but you began to feel like an afterthought as your partners’ interest in each other overshadows your bond. One night, seeking solace and a brief escape from your lonely frustrations, you meet two enigmatic strangers at a bar—Argenti and Boothill. Both quickly become captivated by you, their admiration bordering on obsession. You find yourself ensnared in a dangerous game of affection and desire, with each group willing to do whatever it takes to win your undivided attention. The question is; Who are you going to be choosing?

Tags: Aventurine x Reader x Ratio, Argenti x Reader x Boothill, Polyamory, Not really a love triangle since you pulled 4 men/Love pentagon, Jealousy & Possessiveness, Yandere Themes, Slow Burn Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Longing, Light Drunkenness, Obsessive Behaviour, Emotional Tension, Emotional Angst, Slight Cheating Behaviour.

Warnings: Possessive and Obsessive Behaviour, Light Alcohol Use, Yandere Themes, Emotional Distress, Do not try this at home or think this is cute and all. This is fictional.

A/N: I'M DEFINITELY HEARING YOU & DON'T WORRY ANON I UNDERSTOOD YOUR REQ!! 🤭 THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR STUFFS LIKE POLYAMORY RELATIONSHIPS (SO DON'T COME AFTER ME IF I DID SOMETHING WRONG!!) AND YANDERE! 😪 I personally don't ship any characters in HSR but for the sake of this fic, they're being shipped.

In the dim glow of a hazy bar, the soft clinking of glasses and murmurs filled the air as you downed your third drink. The evening had started with only a desire to escape the gnawing ache that Aventurine and Ratio had unwittingly left in your heart. For so long, you had been the third in your relationship, watching the connection between them bloom far more intensely than their affection for you. It was hard to pinpoint when exactly you began to feel this way, but tonight, the loneliness finally hit.

You sighed, stirring your drink absentmindedly, lost in thought until a warm voice cut through the fog of your mind.

“Are you alright?” Looking up, you were met with the striking gaze of a man with fiery red hair and green eyes that sparkled with curiosity and concern.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine...” you muttered, masking your sadness with a weak smile. But even before the words left your mouth, you knew they were unconvincing.

“Ah, doesn’t look like it to me.” drawled another voice from beside you. Turning, you found yourself facing a man who looked like he walked straight out of a rugged holo-western. He had a silver gleam in his eye and a smirk that promised trouble, yet there was something comforting in his casual demeanor.

They introduced themselves—Argenti, the knightly-looking redhead, and Boothill, the roguish gunslinger. They struck an odd pair, yet somehow, they both seemed genuinely concerned. That genuine concern, however small, was enough to tug open the lock on the emotions you’d been bottling up.

“I just feel like… no matter how much I try, I’m always a shadow between them,” you confessed, the alcohol loosening your words. “It’s like I’m just… there. I know they love me, but sometimes, it feels like they’re happier with each other.”

Argenti’s gaze softened as he leaned closer, his voice rich and sincere. “A soul like yours deserves to be cherished, never neglected,” he said, his tone filled with a quiet reverence. “I see a light in you, something so rare and beautiful. Anyone who fails to treasure it is unworthy of your heart.”

Boothill leaned in with a sly grin, his eyes flickering with something darker. “If they can’t see what they have, then maybe you’re wastin’ your time on ‘em.”

The warmth of their words and the way they leaned closer, as if drawn to you, sent a flutter through your heart. It had been so long since anyone looked at you like that—with full, unbridled interest.

His hand moved gently to the small of your back, his touch radiating warmth. “Allow us to show you what it means to be honored—to be loved without restraint.”

His words lingered in the air, weighted with a knightly promise. You felt your pulse quicken at his sincerity, yet even through the comfort of his presence, something held you back.

The heat in his touch and Boothill’s gaze made your heart pound faster, and for a dizzying moment, you felt tempted. But, catching yourself, you pulled back, gathering the scraps of your resolve. “I… I can’t. Not like this,” you stammered, stumbling up from the table. “Thanks, but… I need some air.”

You barely noticed their longing stares as you left, desperate to clear your mind, unaware of the yearning spark you had ignited in both men.

Days passed, and you tried to shake off that night. But a strange unease began settling over you. Everywhere you went, you could feel eyes on you. Argenti’s soft, almost reverent gaze in places he couldn’t possibly be; Boothill’s devilish grin, catching you in your peripheral vision even when he wasn’t there. As if they were everywhere, waiting.

The more you found yourself in their orbit, the more their obsession seemed to grow. Argenti, once chivalrous, was now desperate for every glance, every smile you gave. Boothill, once a lighthearted scoundrel, grew possessive, his words laced with dark promises of keeping you safe… from anyone who dared come between you.

Your time with Aventurine and Ratio was no longer as comforting as it once was, either. They sensed the shift in you. Aventurine’s charming smile had faded into something sharp, his eyes assessing as he caught sight of Argenti and Boothill’s names in your messages. Ratio’s typical aloofness twisted into jealousy, his usual intellectual grace tempered by a fiercer intensity.

One evening, as you arrived home, you found Aventurine and Ratio waiting. Ratio was seated calmly, but his piercing gaze was anything but passive. Aventurine leaned casually against the wall, his fingers twitching as if he longed to reach out to you—or hold onto you, tightly.

“We’ve been worried.” Aventurine said with a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Ratio inclined his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me, have you… made some new friends?”

The question caught you off guard, and you stammered out a response. But their knowing expressions only confirmed the suspicion that had been growing in both of them.

That night, they wouldn’t let you go. Aventurine’s once-teasing nature had turned possessive, his charming smile a mask for the tension simmering beneath. Ratio was no different, wrapping his arm around you, his touch firmer than usual, as if reminding you that you belonged to them. They held you close, more than ever before, but their embrace now felt like a cage, one you couldn’t escape.

And just as you thought you had nowhere to turn, there came a knock on the door. The sound was calm, persistent, carrying a strange sense of finality.

You didn’t need to open it to know who it was. The question that burned in your mind wasn’t if it was Argenti and Boothill waiting outside. It was what they would do now that they had come for you. And with Aventurine and Ratio on the other side, waiting to stake their claim, you realized you were caught in a game where escape might be impossible.

The question was: who would be the first to make their move?

Don't ask for part 2 lmaoo💀

[illyrianbitch]

Of Our Own Devices — Part Two

For @erisweekofficial Day 2: Legacy

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Eris Vanserra carries a legacy of cruelty, a reputation forged in whispers and fear. But something doesn't quite fit anymore. You’re beginning to think that the male doesn't truly match the legend he's left behind.

Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, cruelty, injury, battling to death, introspection? like a lot, readers head is soooo big from these big thoughts

Word Count: 3.1k

did someone say eris week mini series???? technically can be read as a stand alone, just squint

Part One | Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

When Eris Vanserra was born, his mother wept in the bathroom for hours after.

Her trembling hands muffled her soft cries as her handmaidens swaddled a newborn Eris in fine cloth. Beron hadn’t been there for most of the birth—hadn’t held her hand the way her father had held her mother’s. He came only at the end, just in time to praise the heir as he left her womb, presenting him like a trophy before promptly leaving for court business.

She was still young, felt like a child herself— at least in her own mind. So, while she loved her son dearly, his birth had cemented her fate to a male she didn’t love, a male whose hands she feared more than death itself.

His mother loved him, this Eris knew. Even at a young age, he felt that love. It burned in him like a comforting flame, the same warmth as the heavy blanket she would tuck around him at night or the sunlight that seeped into his skin on warm afternoons.

And yet, even surrounded by that love, Eris grew up lonely.

His loneliness led him to finding a home in curiosity, in sticking his pointed nose into matters that often didn’t concern him, picking out small details he'd unconsciously store for later. He was a collector from the beginning—of people, of excuses, of emotions he had yet to name.

Perhaps that was why he was so sickeningly fond of you, so starkly different from the others, equally curious, equally lonely.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It wasn't Eris who people met first.

It was his reputation.

Eldest son of the High Lord, equal parts cunning and cruel, a loyal soldier with the venom of a viper. Anguish seemed to follow him, seemed to follow any with Vanserra blood, but there was something distinct about Eris, something divinely alluring. Terrifyingly sinful.

It was all true. So you weren't sure why it bothered you so much when your patrons talked about him, when his name was thrown into conversations surrounding the High Lord.

Your family's tavern was always filled with stories. Its dimly lit, worn wooden tables had overheard more whispered secrets and slurred confessions than you could ever count. Most nights were like this, with drinks spilling over into the laps of locals, the hum of conversation swirling in the air like smoke from the hearth. Tucked in a corner of the court’s lands, it was a place for those not high enough to feast in grand halls but not low enough to beg in the streets. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. A comfortable middle ground.

You placed a handful foaming drinks before the three males at the bar, taking a moment to analyze their appearance. They were relatively large, muscular builds hinting at some form of laborious profession. The callouses on their hands told you that they handled weapons often. But their clothes weren't nice enough to be one of Beron's men, weren't tailored enough to be one of Eris's either. Perhaps they were border patrollers, the lowest and grimiest of the forces.

They thanked you with lingering, appraising eyes as you moved away to fetch more drinks.

“I heard,” one of the them said, leaning closer to his companions, “that the eldest boy has a new game he plays with those who cross him. A real spectacle.”

The male next to him, the oldest of the three, nodded eagerly. “They say he’s got a private arena where he forces traitors to fight each other to the death. It’s supposed to be brutal—nothing but blood and screams. And Eris just sits there, like it’s a grand show.”

You clenched your teeth, turning around to face the wall behind you, forcing yourself to attend to the pile of glasses waiting to be wiped down. You tried to focus on your task, hoping to drown out their disturbing conversation, but it was no use. You could feel your grip tightening on the material of the rag, knuckles white as they continued to talk, their voices growing louder and louder with every drink they took.

It was a lie. A rumor. Nothing more.

Yes, Eris was cruel. He was manipulative and calculated. But you'd seen slivers of something else, something brighter, kinder, even. While you believed that a male should face the consequences of his actions, there was no honor in perpetuating lies that simply weren’t true.

It made no sense, anyway. Eris had done plenty of questionable things. There were multitudes of actions to choose from, many things worthy of criticism. There was no need to indulge in falsehoods. The image they painted of Eris—a male reduced to a sadistic spectator in a grotesque spectacle—seemed far removed even from him.

“A grand show?” the third scoffed. “He’s not just watching. He’s placing bets on who’ll survive, like it’s some sick sport. It’s all for his amusement. I’ve heard he gets pleasure out of the carnage. Let's his hounds ravage the bodies.”

A knot tightened in your chest and you gripped the glassware harder, cloth bunching in your grasp. Before you could register the motion yourself, you spun around, the movement abrupt enough to make the males flinch.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you sneered. The males stiffened, large angry eyes boring into yours. You continued. "Bold of you to traverse around spreading rumors of a High Lord's son. Be grateful he isn't around to correct you himself."

You blinked, the anger draining away as quickly as it had surged, leaving a wave of embarrassment in its place. You took in the male’s faces—initially stunned, then quickly morphing into anger. It was an expected reaction from those who felt their pride wounded, especially from males who had just been scolded by a low-court fae like yourself.

You straightened, trying to regain your composure as you cleared your throat.

The largest of the men leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with a sneer. “Well, well, boys,” he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “I think our pretty little bartender might be one of the Princeling’s whores.”

You weighed your options as you stood there, hand still gripping the glass. For a fleeting moment, you were tempted to shatter it over his head. The thought of the glass breaking, of the shards embedding themselves in his skin, was almost satisfying.

But you didn't. Your father would be angry, would be disappointed above all. You needed the business.

You took a deep breath and your grip on the glass loosened.

“Allow me to apologize,” you said. “It seems I’m more sensitive about our court’s reputation than I realized. I don’t know what came over me. How about a round on the house?”

Their faces shifted to smug satisfaction as they accepted the offer with eager grins and, soon, their cups were filled once more. As they happily downed their next round of drinks, you slipped out from behind the bar.

The door’s bell chimed softly as you stepped outside, itching to find the heir that was imprinted into your mind.

Strangely enough, you knew exactly where he'd be.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You found him in a clearing south of The Forest House, an expansive area bathed in the warm light of the afternoon sun. It was a dedicated space for the hounds, adorned in various obstacles that Eris used during their training—wooden jumps, tunnels, and agility courses set up with careful precision. You'd seen the area of land a handful of times before, times when Lucien found Eris to argue or hurl curses.

You approached carefully, watching as Eris kneeled by one of the hounds, gently tending to what seemed to be a cut on its paw.

After a moment, he finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and a playful glint manifested in his eyes.

"Even after all these years, a vixen without a fox at her side is still a strange sight."

You gritted your teeth, taking a deep breath as your eyes roamed the face of the male before you.

It was an unnecessary jab.

Lucien hadn’t been by your side for centuries now. Though you had visited him as often as you could, the friendship you once shared had changed. He had changed. You had, too. You'd grown into your life at Autumn—managing the tavern that bore your family’s name and living vicariously through the stories that came your way.

The last time you had seen Lucien was marked by a change. You'd looked into his eyes and somehow understood that things were different beyond what had been anticipated.

"Why do you do that?" You asked. "Be a dick when you don't need to be?"

Eris stood, brushing his hands clean as the hound trotted away to rejoin the rest. He narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, a scrutinizing, analyzing moment. Then he offered you a shrug, something so casual and dismissive. You were sure it would've warded off anyone else, that his disinterestedness would have begun to tired them already, turn them the other way.

"Maybe it's part of my charm," he finally responded, "Or maybe I'm just a dick."

He made no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice as he emphasized your insult. Eris had been called many things— you'd heard them, even delivered a few of the titles. But so far, you were the only one to call him two things: a dick, and a prick. Perhaps it was delusion, but you swore that he seemed to enjoy it when you said such things, seemed to smirk in a way that wasn't just cruel, but impressed.

You rolled your eyes. "Most wouldn't wear that title with such pride."

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. "What's the use in denying my nature?"

You sighed, a sound of frustration, of annoyance. "Do you not grow bored of your little games?"

Eris rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. He always had immaculate posture, his stature was often so perfect that it was almost uncomfortable to witness. It emphasized his wealth, somehow— emphasized his power. He towered over you even more now.

"Did you seek me out solely to criticize me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No."

"Then why?"

You still weren't entirely sure why you had come.

"Perhaps I was bored."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "Do you not have any friends?"

You bristled. "I have plenty." You paused, allowing your gaze to settle on the view before you, on the open land and the animals that in the open expanse. You turned back to Eris. "It's you that doesn't seem to have any. Your only companionship recently seems to be those hounds. I'm surprised you're not running on all fours."

Eris's expression shifted. He let out a small chuckle and you fought against the twitch in your lips, cursed the warmth that blossomed in your chest. But the amusement dissipated from his face soon after, replaced be a resolve of cold indifference. His eyes seemed tired in this light.

"As much as I…enjoy our little talks," He began after a moment, "I didn't ask for company. You should find someone who wants it."

A small sense of rejection passed through your skin like a cold, morning chill. You were never foolish enough to think Eris would welcome your presence with open arms and a smile, never naive enough to consider yourself anything more than semi-peaceful acquaintances. But still, there was something deep within you that wished he’d show you something beyond the disregard he showed others.

That wasn't a fool's wish— because you knew it was possible.

You'd seen it.

Strangely enough, you had. In the stolen glances when he thought no one was looking, how he lingered after you stumbled, offered a hand before quickly retracting it. There had been flowers at your door after your mother passed of Autumn fever, an unusual number of wealthy patrons who had frequented your father’s tavern for months afterward, tipping generously despite only having a drink or two. They all adorned attire of a specific, deep green that you’d come to recognize easily—the shade often worn by Eris’s personal guard.

His name was never attached to any of it, but you could trace it back to him. You'd always wondered why he'd never taken credit, never basked in somehow proving your presumptions about him wrong.

Twenty-nine year old you, freshly bonded to Lucien after he'd stumbled across your father's tavern, would be shocked that centuries later, she'd be spending more time alongside his cruel brother than Lucien himself.

You’d had an image of Eris back then—an image painted by Lucien’s words. It was accurate, to an extent. You never doubted your best friend’s judgment, never questioned the stories of cruelty and ambition that followed Eris like a shadow. He had, indeed, made Lucien suffer. There were reasons he disliked his brothers so deeply, reasons you knew were valid.

But you were curious by nature, always craving to understand things deeply, intricately. And Eris Vanserra called to you like a riddle from an ancient tale—dangerous, alluring, and impossible to ignore.

Above all else, you wanted answers. Throughout the years, Eris had never called upon your bargain, never asked for a favor, never even mentioned the price you’d paid for that first visit with Lucien. Not once.

It unnerved you.

"I don't understand you," you said, without realizing the words had fallen from your lips.

You hadn't intended on voicing it so blatantly. You weren't quite sure how Eris would respond, how he would interpret your words. It was a tossup, really, between a snarky response or something condescending, something to make you feel silly, naive.

Silence.

Eris shifted, turning his body to look out into the horizon before him.

"Not everything in life is meant to be understood."

You paused.

Eris was complicated. Unfortunately for you, you loved complicated. It wasn't boring. It made you think, made you wonder. You gravitated towards the eldest Vanserra more often than you'd like to admit. It was easier now, you decided, since Lucien's watchful eye wasn't around. He didn't have to witness your betrayal first hand, didn't have to see as you attempted to find something in his brother. You weren't sure what that something was, but you were certain you were searching for it. You had been for years.

"That's not true. I can understand things if I try hard enough."

Eris played idly with the rings on his hands. "You set yourself up for disappointment, Vixen," he said to the empty air before him, not turning to look at you. "Why does everything need to have a deeper meaning?"

You studied his face further. Noting the lines etched around his eyes and the set of his jaw. He was beautiful. You weren’t one to deny it—all of the Vanserras were. But where Lucien had been handsome, radiating a gentle charm that made you blush with every lingering gaze, Eris was more akin to the sharp edge of the season’s chill—striking, with an air of regal severity. His amber eyes alone seemed to hold the crisp, unyielding essence of autumn itself—beautiful, but not without its bite.

"It doesn't need to," you replied. "But it often does. I think details are important."

He didn't respond as he turned to face you. You glanced up at him, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that seemed almost tangible.

"You've never lied to me," you stated. It was a statement more than it was a question.

"No," Eris replied.

His gaze didn't waver. You were almost impressed that you'd managed to hold his stare for so long. No one had ever looked at you like this before—so deeply, so penetrating. You understood now how his mere gaze could make people crumble, understood the rumors of how he only took his partners from behind, how he never made eye contact.

You pushed away the burning thoughts that arose.

"Is it true?" Your gaze bounced around his face. "Do you force your traitors to fight for your amusement? Place bets on them like animals?"

Eris's eyes flickered with something dark, but he didn't move.

"Do you think it is?" he countered.

You shook your head. You were certain of your answer, but you needed to hear his. "No. I don't."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Then it’s not," he said simply.

His expression revealed nothing more as you scanned his face. He didn't seem startled by your question, didn't seem confused at the context. He was aware of the rumors, of the stories circulating like the last morsels of food at a feast—passed around, savored, and eagerly consumed.

"It doesn't bother you? That these lies exist?"

A hint of confusion crossed his features, as if the question itself was somewhat absurd.

"Why would it?"

You blinked, momentarily retracting into yourself.

As a hound trotted up to Eris, his attention shifted. He crouched down, meeting the beast at its level. The gentle manner with which the hound regarded him, the affection in its eyes, stirred something inside you, deep within your gut. Your father had always said that a male’s nature could be understood through how animals responded to him.

Eris clearly cared for his hounds, and they, in turn, cared for him.

You found yourself wondering if, deep down, Eris was ever troubled by his reputation.

Lucien always had been.

He cursed the blood than ran through his veins, spent every moment trying to prove himself to be better than the legacy of his family— he did everything he could to avoid the curse of a wicked kin.

But then there was the male before you.

Eris, the rightful heir and firstborn son, was different.

You had always assumed he was bestowed with the legacy of the kingdom, that he was born for the role of High Lord, eagerly embracing the title and its accompanying glory. He seemed built for it, seemed to thrive under its weight.

You watched as more hounds approached him, watched as they surrounded him like a loyal fleet.

Could it be possible, you thought, that perhaps it wasn't all gifted. That it was possible Eris was burdened with the legacy of a Court?

You realized, then, that you'd never truly acknowledged that what he had become allowed for a kinder brother to grow in his wake.

The thoughts came faster, hazy, so many that your vision began to blur. It all made you itch, made you uncomfortable, made you overwhelmed and desperate for more.

None of this felt right.

You stared at Eris for a few more moments. When he stood up straight once more, about to turn toward you, you turned and ran to your horse.

You could feel his stare burning into you as you left.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

reader panicking when she has deep intellectual thoughts about sexy man as he tends for his dogs. shes so me fr

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[dreamescapeswriting]

Cry Baby ~ JJK

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

GENRE: established relationships, cry baby reader, angst to comfort, jungkook being soft for her, apologising, begging jungkook,

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The apartment felt as though it was stifling tonight, the air thick with frustration and you could barely feel like you could breathe as you stood there. You were standing by the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly over your chest, watching as Jungkook paced back and forth across the living room. The two of you had started spatting with one another and it started as something small—a forgotten phone call.

He said he’d call, and he didn’t. But somehow, it had spiralled out of control, and now you’re both standing on opposite sides of the room, trying to make sense of the mess between you.

It wasn't like you were the couple to argue with each other all the time but this was something important to you. A simple phone call to let you know he was still alive after he went out on a dangerous fucking mission with his friends.

“It’s not just about the phone call, Jungkook!” you say, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. Jungkook didn't scare you, hell, his bodyguards didn't scare you. But he worried you when he went out and never said anything, or came home late covered in blood.

“It’s about you not being here… even when you are here. I feel like I’m alone all the time. You’re always busy with work, or with the guys, or something else, and I just… I just miss you.” Your voice cracked a little as you admitted it out loud for the first time. You didn't want to come across as clingy or anything but you needed your feelings to be heard on this.

Jungkook stopped pacing, turning to look at you as he looked you up and down. There’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes, his jaw clenched as he struggles to find the right words.

“I’m doing the best I can, Y/N! I can’t just drop everything whenever you feel lonely, or need a cuddle.” The words cut through you like a hot knife through butter and it hurt but you try to hold yourself together. You didn't want to cry in front of him and give him another reason to be pissed off at you,

“I’m not asking you to drop everything. I’m asking you to see me. To make me feel like I matter to you.” Your eyes are stinging now, and you hate it. You hate that you’re on the verge of crying again because you know what’s coming. You cried a lot...A lot, a lot but you couldn't help it. You'd always been a big crier and you'd grown up being told never to hold them back.

“Why do you always have to cry about everything?” he says, his voice sharp, frustration clear in his tone.

“You’re such a crybaby, Y/N.” The words hit you like a slap to the face. You freeze, blinking back the tears that you desperately don’t want to let fall, but it’s too late. Your vision blurs as they spill over, and you quickly wipe them away, trying to keep your dignity intact. You could feel your throat forming that all too familiar lump inside of it before you whimpered a little and wiped your face.

You don’t say anything. You can’t, if you did you knew the tears would never stop so you took in a deep breath and shook your head, as if trying to shake the tears out of your system. Your chest felt tight, and all you wanted to do was get out of there. Before Jungkook can say anything more, you turn on your heel and head for the door,

“Y/N, wait—” you hear him call after you, but you don’t stop. You can’t. You keep walking, slamming the door behind you as you walk away from him. Your heart pounded inside of your chest as you walked away from Jungkook, ignoring the guard who banged on your car window to let him inside. There was no way you were going to let one of his men join you and report back to him on your every move.

The tears fall freely now, and you don’t even bother wiping them away. You just drove -away from the apartment, away from the hurt, away from Jungkook.

It had been hours since you left, and you’d found yourself at one of your favourite spots by the riverbank, sitting on a cold bench with your arms wrapped around yourself. It had been far too long since you'd had the chance to do something like this, always stopping yourself because of Jungkook claiming it was "dangerous" or you had a target on you now that you were dating him. But right now? You didn't care. The cold air and the calming aura were all you needed to make you feel better.

The night air is cool, and you shiver slightly, but you welcome the chill once you let relax your entire body and dry the tears from your cheeks.

You'd been ignoring all of Jungkook’s calls, eventually turning your phone off and leaving it in the car. You just… you needed space. You needed time to process what he said—what he called you.

A crybaby.

The word had been echoing in your mind, over and over again on the drive. You know you’re emotional, but that’s part of who you are, you thought Jungkook loved you for who you were. You had always felt things deeply, and it’s always been hard for you to hide that. And now, the person you love most in the world threw it back in your face like it was something to be ashamed of.

You were so lost in thought you hadn't even heard his car parking up before he approached you until he was standing in front of you, kneeling down on the grass to look up at you. His face is shadowed in the dim light, but you can still see the worry in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper. You glance at him briefly before looking away, not ready to face him yet. Your heart feels too heavy, too raw. You could already feel the tears burning again and your throat starting to lump up. He shifts closer to you, his voice cracking slightly as he speaks again.

“Please… look at me,” he begged, his voice cracking as he spoke. He'd spent the last few hours trying to find you, refusing to let you go.

Reluctantly, you meet his gaze. His expression is full of regret, and the sight of him looking so broken tugs at something inside you, but you shove it down. Not yet. You’re not ready to let him off the hook that easily.

“Why are you here, Jungkook?” you whispered, your voice sounding more detached than you felt. You weren't about to let him get away with what he did, you wanted him to feel like shit, so he could feel how you felt right now.

“Shouldn’t you be busy with your schedule? Or with the guys? You made it pretty clear that my feelings are just… too much for you.” You snapped a little harsher than you had wanted. The guilt on his face spread and he reached out for your hand, but you pulled it back from him. The mere act had him flinching at the rejection, it wasn't like you to reject any of his touches. For a moment, you almost feel bad, but then you remember the sting of his words, and the walls around your heart harden again.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, dropping down onto the wet grass not caring about if his suit got ruined.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I was frustrated, and overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. But that doesn’t make it okay. I know I hurt you… and I’m so, so sorry.” He stared at you, waiting for you to say something, anything but you didn't. You sit in silence, staring out at the water as it flows steadily in front of you. Part of you wants to forgive him right away, to ease the ache in your chest. But the other part of you—the part that’s still hurting—holds back. You’re afraid that if you let him in too soon, it’ll happen again. And next time, it might hurt even more.

"Say something...A-Anything, baby, scream at me, yell at me...hit me, anything, please." He begged as he looked at you.

“I hate when you do that,” you say softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“I hate when you make me feel like I’m too much. Like my feelings are a burden to you.” You finally whisper as you look over at him. His eyes were already on you. Jungkook’s breath hitches, and you can see the tears gathering in his eyes. He looks so vulnerable in this moment, and it almost breaks you but you don't let it. You weren't going to let this go so easily.

“You’re not a burden, Y/N. Never,” he says, his voice trembling. It wasn't like Jungkook to show this kind of vulnerability with anybody, you were the only person he allowed himself to break down in front of. Ever.

“I swear, you’re the most important person in my life. I just… sometimes I get so caught up in everything else that I forget to show you how much you mean to me. But you do mean everything to me. I’m nothing without you.” His words hang in the air between you, and for the first time tonight, you see just how much he’s hurting, too. He’s not perfect, neither are you.

“I’m not ready to just… forget what happened,” you admit quietly, looking down at your hands. Swallowing the lump that was forming in your throat,

“You really hurt me, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he says softly, inching closer his shoulders touching yours now but you didn't move away, you let him be close.

“And I don’t expect you to just forget. But I promise you, I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you. I’ll make it up to you every day if I have to. Just… please don’t shut me out. Let me take you home, let me make this better.” He pleaded with you, his hand itching to touch you but he kept himself at bay.

You finally look up at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you see is the man you fell in love with. The one who would do anything to make things right.

The man who hadn't stopped begging you for a date, showing up every single day to your workplace until you finally agreed to a date. The same man that on your anniversary books out your favourite hotel so the two of you can be alone. So you can wander around lost in a hotel for hours - sometimes days - at a time. The man who had stopped at nothing to make you smile when you'd broken your arm last year in a ski accident.

And despite the hurt you felt, despite the anger, you believed him.

“Do you really mean that?” you ask, your voice softer than it had been earlier.

“Every single fucking word, princess,” he whispers, reaching for your hand again. This time, you let him take it, and the warmth of his touch soothes the dull ache in your chest. His thumb gently strokes your knuckles, and you feel a tiny flicker of hope start to grow inside you.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly.

“Okay,” you say quietly.

“But you better mean it, Jeon Jungkook, or I'm not coming back next time.” You warn him. He lets out a soft laugh, even as his eyes glisten with tears. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, his breath warm against your skin.

“I do,” he promises, his voice full of love and sincerity. “I swear...Let me drive you home," He stands up, reaching out for your hand once again and helping you up to your feet.

"What about my car-" You stopped as you turned around to see it was already missing from where you had parked it, turning back to Jungkook you saw him smiling at you sheepishly.

"You were that sure I'd forgive you?" You didn't know whether to be mad or not at him for this but he shook his head,

"I was taking away your choice, either I drove you or we walked together," He smirks before you kiss him softly, his smirk slowly turning to a smile as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

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[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven 5 - the end (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. And then you asked for more :)

My masterlist is here.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Warnings: no proof reading, fighting, language, violence, angst/comfort (in a way), pregnant!reader

Things went out of hand pretty quickly. Dick joined you home and saw Bruce speaking with you. He was towering over you. You seemed very uneasy. 

“So you knew”

“That I was with a man who was actually in love with me and taking care of me? Yes”

“I am your husband. Is it how you are loyal to me? No, no, don’t answer. You know what, I understand. I haven’t been the best. But once he’ll be back to his world, I’ll do better. I’ll take care of this child and we’ll be happy again. Don’t you want that?”

You didn’t answer because you realised how obvious the answer was: you were in love with the other version of Bruce, not with the one you actually married. You wished for him to go away, you wanted things back like when he was gone. You didn’t even feel guilty anymore. You were allowed to be happy, your children too. Even Barbara started to enjoy the new Bruce better.

“Don’t you want that?” Bruce repeated, losing it over your lack of answer

Dick walked over and with the way the man greeted him, he knew who it was. The new Bruce was always smiling at him, always grateful to have Dick around. This Bruce was a little bit annoyed, a little bit too cold to feel happy around him. Dick wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you relaxed a little bit.

“Stay away from mom” Dick groaned

“I’m not… For fuck sake, can you all stop acting like if I was the intruder here? I belong here, this is my world, my family, my home!” Bruce was getting angry

“Then start treating us better already” Dick continued

“How fucking dare you?! Without me, you’d be nothing” Bruce started to scream

“And you how fucking dare you talking with that tone in front of a pregnant woman? A woman you said you loved too. But really you never knew anything about that, did you?”

The batfamily had always been pretty protective of you, but it was even worse now you were pregnant. And to Dick, his former father was actually a threat to the family. Because it finally felt like a family and after everything that happened, he didn’t want to lose it.

Everything happened in a blur after that. The “real” Bruce threw a punch at Dick, out of pure anger and despair at being so easily replaced. They started to fight. They had no mercy. Actually, all the anger they always felt toward each other was finally getting free and making them even more ruthless.

Alfred quickly grabbed you and guided you away from the two men, finding you a safe place to lock yourself in until everything would settle down. Alfred wasn’t too sure what to do. He had guessed something happened when his Master started to treat everyone like Alfred always wished he would. For once, he had decided to pretend to not understand. But now, to be fair, he wasn’t recognising the man he raised and he thought that maybe he was gone in this other world. Or maybe he never truly existed. He just wanted them to stop fighting, but he didn’t know how to.

You called your lover, you tried to explain to him what was going on, but you were getting close to a panic attack. 

“It’s alright, my love, it’s alright. I’m on my way. Stay where you are, stay safe. This is all that matters to me. Jason will come find you so you won’t stay on your own, okay? I just need you to breathe in and out. Can you do that? For me? I know you are strong. You are amazing, my love. I just need you to trust me” he smoothly told you, trying to appease you no matter how tense he was himself getting.

But all that mattered was you. Always you.

“I… I trust you” you finally manager to whisper

“Good. Lay down and breathe, my love. I’ll be home soon”

After that, he called Kate for her to deal with the security breach while he was coming back to the manor. On his way, he also called Jason for him to protect you and help you calm down. Jason didn’t ask a question. If his father needed you to look after you, he didn’t need to know anything else.

You heard a car coming by, the front doors getting opened and then more sounds of fighting. You knew that your Bruce had started a war with your former husband. You guessed he asked Dick to leave, because he didn’t want his son to get hurt. Hopefully, Alfred was taking care of Dick now.

You started to cry.

You jumped when you heard a knock at your door. Soon enough, you opened the door to a very worried Jason who locked the door back behind him and settled on the ground by your side. He held you and rocked you, whispered words of reassurance to help you calm down. He hated to see you like that.

When he arrived at the manor, he did his best to follow the instructions he received for once, and to not intervene in the fight between the two Bruces. He was now praying to whoever divinity who might hear him to get rid of the former Bruce. He didn’t want to be in the same world as him again. You both heard the sounds of the fight and it was driving you sick with worry. 

“What if he kills him?” you cried our and Jason shushed you

“He’ll be fine” he whispered

“You haven’t seen the way he was acting. He was so desperate to get his life back here, he promised me things…” you felt like you were going to throw up

“Ma, don’t worry. He may want his life back, but I can tell you that dad is actually very desperate to keep this life as well. And you’re pregnant with his baby. He’ll fight with everything he has” Jason tried to reassure you

Jason was right. The two Bruces were on equal strength, on equal intelligence and on equal despair. They both wanted and needed this good life in this world, but for that, one of them needed to be gone.

Both Bruces had thought of so many plans and different contingencies to take care of the other. They hadn’t really planned on simply fighting the other one. But despair drives everyone crazy and makes them act like animals.

You heard screams of:

“This is my home! I’ll kill you or I’ll send you back to your personal Hell!”

“This is my Heaven and you can’t get it away from me. You didn’t deserve any of this anyways. Even my wife knows it”

“She isn’t yours”

“That’s no what she said. That’s not what the children said.”

“Fuck you”

You had no idea how long it last. Forever, maybe.

“I’m going to get sick” you whispered when a terrible silence engulfed the whole manor.

Then you heard a lot of footsteps. The children arrived and were taking care of things. You jumped when Alfred knocked at the door.

“Mr Jason, Mrs Y/N, the fight is over. You can come out” he told you 

Jason had to help you get up because your legs didn’t want to obey you anymore. You opened the door and Cass helped you walk to the living room with Jason. Everyone was so tense.

“How’s Dick?” you asked Stephanie who walked by

“He is fine, Duke is with him right now, to make sure he is all good” she answered and you felt a little bit better knowing that

Damian was sitting on the ground with Tim. They were both looking at the two Bruce Wayne lying on the floor. One was stabbed, the other one was tasered. They were unconscious. Damian was lost, Tim was trying to take care of the wound. 

“Baraba called Leslie, Alfred is waiting for her” Cass told you before helping you sitting down on a chair

“What are we going to do?” you whispered

“We need to make a choice” Jason told you

After a little while, the whole family was in the room, looking at the two men. The choice was pretty easy to make. 

Your former husband was locked up in an unbreakable room. Leslie took care of him while he was unconscious, and after that only Alfred talked with him. Damian sometimes too, but he never let his father go. Deep down, you knew that this fate was even worse than just killing him. But you couldn’t kill him; you needed to send him back to the other world, because this world didn’t have any Bruce Wayne now and who knew what the consequences could be.

When your lover woke up, he was in his bed. You were sitting next to him, holding his hand in yours. 

“Welcome back, darling” you whispered

“You choose me” he understood, fully relaxing against the mattress

“We choose happiness. Whenever we’ll find out how, we’ll send him back to the other world. For the last time, hopefully”

“I’ll make sure of it” he hummed before kissing your fingers

The man you loved never had any more nightmares about the other Bruce.

And you neither.

--

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[tactical-jellyfish]

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Warnings!: Angst, angst, and more angst. Reader will be MAD sad for most of this. Poorly-practiced, unhealthy polyamory. Reader will experience a LOT of gender and body dysphoria over the course of this (though I will do my best to keep it gender-neutral throughout, bear with me), but there WILL be comfort over that.

Shout out! This fic was inspired in part by the lovely @cielosafeplace's post. I will be taking liberties, but the bones are all from there. Thanks again for letting me use this, friend <3

Since you were young, you've been very aware that you aren't like very many other people. That's fine, really. Being weird is no sin, or at least, not one you care about. If you happened to have crushes who happened to overlap, that was no one's business but your own.

That being said, the yearning, gooey parts of you were something that you never did entertain, for your own sake.

Still, when there were four men who all seemed not just willing, but enthusiastic to fill in those needs, of course you let them.

Of course, why wouldn't you? When Kyle kissed you so nicely, when he took you apart to heal you back together? When Johnny showed you passions that you'd been missing out on? When Ghost had you at his side, with the lights off and the blankets warm? Why wouldn't you let them have you?

They were your team anyway, those four made damn well sure you were alright.

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

Actually, that might be too nice a judgement.

You know your team has been... very upset with you, lately.

Most of that is your fault. It was a bad call, and Ghost nearly got shot coming to help you. Really, you do understand that anger, but it's gotten lonely.

Price has stopped talking to you outside of orders, just like Ghost. Johnny gave you a verbal lashing you might never forget, and Kyle scowled at you in a way that made you head inside your room for the rest of the day just to avoid him.

It's been a couple days, and you're still on a very short list with all of them.

But something's off.

It doesn't hurt too badly yet, you must admit, but something feels like it's wrong.

A bit of pain, near the center of your belly, right below the navel. Sure, you're grown, you've had your bellyaches. It's not too bad, but it's a sort of new that you don't trust. Not even a little bit.

So, you go to your captain. Of course you do. He's got the most power, why shouldn't you?

Smooth, dark wood knocks clear and sharp under your knuckles, and a gruff "Come in." is all the command you need.

"Hey, Price. I was going to ask-"

"Is there a reason you saw fit to come in during the busiest week of the year not on fire?"

The interruption makes you still as the pain fades just a bit, seemingly also slinking away as the nervousness takes root.

Sure, you might have made a wrong call last mission, but were they this upset with you?

"Uh- I wanted to ask you something-"

You shouldn't be nervous. Price is your captain. He's just a little grumpy, nothing more. He'll answer, or he'll know who to ask. You're one of his, he shouldn't hate you.

"Find someone else, then. Your incompetence isn't my problem."

You know better than to disobey that tone, even as the prickle of pain returns to you, so you shut the door.

It feels a little worse now, and an uncomfortable tightness rises as you step back, but it's easy enough to push away with a deep breath or two.

Alright. Ghost might know. He's not under the pressure Price is, making up for your mistake.

So, you seek out your lieutenant.

He's in the gym. Training rookies, but it seems you've gotten lucky, because he's just told the newbies to spar each other, and is currently watching over them.

The sharp spike of hot pain makes you gasp a little bit, but your voice calling to him is what makes the man turn.

"Ghost."

"Yes, Crash?"

Your callsign makes you smile, just a little bit, but his tone doesn't. He sounds... really stern, more upset than he usually is when he's on training duty.

"I think something might be off, my stomach's hurting and-"

The relief of finally getting to tell someone about this odd pain is cut as you're, once more, interrupted before you can finish.

"Take a painkiller."

Okay, now this is getting annoying to you.

"I already have, you're not-"

"Not your bloody nursemaid, that's what I'm not."

His voice rises in a way that makes you swallow once more. The way you brace a foot behind you makes the ache come back, flaring in your gut, a bit lower this time. It's so loud a few of the recruits turn to look, one or two snickering, making shame and anger roil in your hurting stomach.

Your silence seems to allow for more speech from the man, because the scowl you just know is under his mask hardens, and his voice gets even louder, purposely projecting so the full gaggle of rookies can hear him.

"It's not my responsibility to take care of a faulty informations "Specialist". If you're not going to be useful, leave."

He says your job title like it's a fucking joke, goes to the efforts of doing air-quotes around it. The rookies laugh like it is one.

The shame and anger meld into an ugly thing, burning behind your eyes and making the stabbing pain just that much worse. You understand. They're angry, you did something stupid. That's fine. The fact that Ghost deemed it necessary to shoot you down like that in from of the fucking rookies is shitty.

But that's still your lieutenant. And you're still bound by his word. So you do leave, return to the small space you call your office and see if this is something that you can ride out.

Maybe you were being some sort of dramatic, maybe nothing was ever hurting, even if you feel it getting worse by the hour.

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

That might have been the worst mistake you've made in your life, because here you are, bent over the toilet, emptying your guts again.

You're losing track of how many times you've watched the swirling bowl swallow your vomit just to be refilled, but you feel abysmal, bad enough to check your phone for the fifth time this hour as the thing sits on just one percent of its usual battery.

An unread text sits on the screen, sent to a group chat cheekily titled "the sergeants" by one John MacTavish.

Something's wrong, please come help me

Delivered, but not responded to. Neither are picking up their phones.

Fuck. This isn't good.

The nausea has started to pass, but the pain hasn't. It feels like a hot spear is jabbing into your abdomen, lighting up the entire right side with a burning pain that's only starting to intensify further.

It hurts so fucking bad, every breath is a harder task than the last. You can't bear to rise from your haunches. The movement would be too much, it would make the pain spike to a level you know you can't handle. Pressing your hands to the pain that's stabbing into you is useless, but you do it anyway.

The realization that something is very wrong sinks in, and you can't help the fact that you start to cry. When you turn to try and send another text, a more urgent plea, your phone shuts off with a dead, black screen.

You think you might be dying. It's only getting worse, and the door's locked. No one's coming to help you. You're alone, and your dead brick of a phone won't fix that.

Crying is doing nothing to help you. In fact, it makes the pain worse, but there's no logic left for you.

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

The thing that pulls you from this is a quiet rapping on the bathroom door.

"Hey, um, are you good? You're kind of- crying."

It's not a voice you don't know. Awkward and fumbling, like they haven't used it in a while, and a little raspy. You choke a word of thanks as the pain spikes again, and sob once more.

"It fucking hurts. Please get a medic."

Your own voice is wet, it feels foreign to you. But thank the stars, the message gets across really well to whoever's on the other side.

A thick-soled boot makes quick work of the lock with the force of a good kick, and there's the rustling of clothes next to you. You don't move to look.

Almost delicate hands (when compared to your own team, of course) cup your own, putting just a bit too much pressure on the lower right side of your pained body and making your breaths trip again.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, just- I'm going to pick you up, okay? I- you look really bad."

His voice is gentle, the softest you've heard in the service. It's a relief to you, and you nod shakily as he hauls you up into comfortable arms, walking you over to the base's medical room as fast as possible without jostling you.

You'll admit that the next hour or so is... blurry, to you.

You remember the medic looking not-that-concerned when you came in, pressing their hand to your belly, the lower right side. When you whined in pain, they started looking worried.

Soon after, you were introduced to the emergency surgeon. She wasn't really clear, and kind of strict, but getting your stomach pumped was not a fun experience.

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

Waking up from anesthesia is an ugly, uncomfortable thing, but you know the feeling while it hits you.

Your eyes are bleary, too-dry and unfocused, and your head is fuzzy with more than the anesthetic itself. Pain meds. Feels like... awful.

There's a little gasp when your eyes open, and you glance to the side to see maybe the last person you thought you would.

Not Price, or Ghost, or Soap or Gaz. No, it's the soft-handed, quiet voiced man, sitting in the chair and staring at you.

You're not sure what you expected, but you're not greeted verbally. It's an excited wave, followed by a lot of British Sign Language.

"I'm... I'm sorry, luv. I only learned how to finger-spell back in basics."

He doesn't look too dejected, which is honestly a relief. He switches over seamlessly, taking the individual letters slowly, for your sake.

It's okay. He spells the words slowly, forming the letters cleanly and precisely with practiced fingers that tell you he's been doing this for some time. You had appendicitis. The nurse said you were really lucky to get here when you did, and that they called your captain to tell him you'll be out for a day or so.

"Oh."

The cocktail of painkillers mutes your reaction, lowers it from sheer rage to a simple, tired acceptance. In that moment, you don't question why you're alone, sans this stranger. You just soak it in, really.

"What's your name, then?"

Gary.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He looks confused, but spells it again for you, slower this time.

"No, I know your name is Gary, I'm just sorry."

You realize what you say the second it leaves your mouth, and shut your eyes to cope with the mortification. Instead, you hear a giggle, followed by a laugh.

It's a squeaky thing, Gary's laughter. He only seems to make noise when he draws in the breath, and it makes a high-pitched, slightly raspy sound, like he's taken damage to the voice box or throat before. You would liken it to a dying goose, if you were meaner.

I like you. We should talk more.

He's smiling. He's looking at you and he is smiling. It makes you feel useful again, like there is still something to be salvaged of the errors you cause.

You do, in fact, talk more with him.

A lot more.

Next chapter

[itstheghostofmypast]

S♡CKER P♡NCH

Boxer AU Choi San x Reader

Summary: No labels, no commitment, no real relationship. A lone wolf who could throw anyone across the ring until his love for boxing shifted to the love for his little daisy.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Making out, language.

Word Count: 2.1 K

Est.Read Time: 10 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: I'd like to blame @edenesth for sending me that one real- man. I'm weak for this man.

After a deep groan the boxer sighed, staring up at the bright light of the ring, the world around him blurring into twos and threes, hazy and foggy, the world around him turning into distant memory but the persistent, ear piercing ringing in his head had his conscious hold onto some form of reality.

A familiar voice caught his attention, his eyes slowly trailing to the fuzzy shadow, the sweet voice cutting through the loud ringing. A muffled whisper was all he caught before blacking out,

“Sannie!? Wake up!”

.

The thumping at the back of his skull pulled him out of his blackout, slowly opening his eyes, staring up at the dark shaky ceiling - oh, he was in the van. Did Wooyoung pick him up? Did he carry him? Closing his eyes, he sighed, the memories match he had won, not one of his finest ventures. In fact, he had been so distracted that he really did think he was going to lose, mid way on the bench he had asked Wooyoung if he could tap out, only for his manager/best friend to whisper back, “Ya dumb? Ya gotta win this to prove to her you're a strong one! Get her that ring you want with tonight's money!”

The ring, that's what, led his large best friend back into the ring with a new sense of determination. Sure, images of her flashing across his mind, trying to focus on nothing but her, especially the last memory of her, when she was the more upset with him than he had ever seen. He knew he had to make it up to her. He had to prove to her that he wasn't weak. He was part of the big leagues now, and he knew what he was doing. And he did, with one final kick the man had won, stumbling back when Wooyoung braced him steady-temperedily with a hand on the back of the boxer, declaring his victory. It was after that when he completely blacked out, somehow hearing the melody of his daisy.

“Instead of yapping at me, tend to him would ya?” The driver mumbled, earing a scoff from the woman behind the curtain, ripping it open so she could glare at him, “This is all your fault!”

“No, this is your fault.” Backrest the brakes at the stop sign he turned his head to glare at her, “If you didn't challenge his capabilities-”

“I'm his doctor! He was already exhausted! I wasn't challenging him! I was giving him MEDICAL ADVICE!”

“I'm his manager! I know what he can and can not do and-”

“HE HAD A DEATH WISH!”

“SO WHAT!?”

“I LOVE HIM, YOU BASTARD!”

The loud horn blaring behind them had Wooyoung sprint into action, stepping on the gas as the whole van shook, causing ; her to lose her balance and topple over and to land in a firm pair of arms, that tightened around her when Wooyoung's rash driving had him hopping lane to lane to find a quick pit stop.

“Slow down, Woo.” He mumbled, voice hoarse and heavy, possibly due to the fatigue, though his words were firm, “There's no need to rush, I feel fine.” Of course, his best friend was rushing to find some form of place to stay, he was worried about him, sure they had her, a certified nurse, but she couldn't do much due to her limited resources.

“Are you sure?” The driver glanced at his rear view mirror, only to shake his head and sigh at the sight of the two love-struck fools staring at each other like that. It made him sick. To think he had seen this man throw men bigger than him around the ring, and now he was all putty in a frail, lousy tempered woman's arms. Rolling his eyes at the lack of response, he reached back to pull the curtain, deciding to give them time to ‘make up’ .

“You came?” San whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against her, trying to ignore the sting of the cut on his lower lip.

“Of course I did, you big dummy.” She mumbled, slowly pulling back and helping him recline against the DIY back rest they had made with an old cushion, “I was mad at your stupidity, didn't mean I wanted to leave you unattended when you'd get hurt.”

“Well, isn't my daisy a work of art.” Mumbled he reached over to gently grasp her hand, drawing gentle circles with his thumb on the back of her soft, smaller hand, “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. You guys pay me for that.”

He pouted at her statement, sure it was true but that's because Wooyoung had originally hired her, they weren't a couple back then.

And even after the small mountain had constantly been expressing and hinting at his admiration for her, Wooyoung had insisted that the contract remain intact, which meant they needed to keep it professional.

Now, she was just saying this because of their lack of official titles- it was true, the boxer was head over heels for her, but was too afraid to take a step, what if he hurt her with his big calloused hands, or what if he crushed her with his brute being. It didn't matter what any fortune teller or shaman would claim, his Yin was much more suppressed because his choice of occupation- an occupation he was good at, an occupation he enjoyed, an occupation that helped him earn a living. One that he had used to get her a ring. Callbhim old fashioned, but he believed courting her for more than a year was enough. She deserved the proper treatment, one he'd gladly give her - now that he had convinced Wooyoung too.

“Yes but…you didn't need to come all the way there and-”

“Drop it.” She sighed, somewhat irritated by his romantic gestures, he'd do this often, be this tender with her, and then pull back as soon as she'd ask for something more, something that would make her bruised heart flutter.

Slowly, she got up, placing a hand on the roof to steady herself before making her way to the back of the van, grateful that he had not heard her confess her feelings for him to Wooyoung. Reaching for the cooler, she tipped over the lid, kneeling as she plucked out an icepack, a bottle of water, and an ice lolly.

He raised a brow at the choice of items she has returned with, “What's with the- ack!” He gagged at the intensity of the frozen treat hitting the back of his throat, hand instinctively reaching to grab the small end of the stick as he looked at her with an unpleasant expression Though it soon turned into a lopsided smirk when she sat between his spread out legs, frowning up at him and pressing the cold ice beside his eyebrow, mumbling an, “Idiot.”

His other arm looped around her waist, tugging her closer as he pulled out the lolly, “How'd you know I like pineapple?” He giggled pressing it to her lips, watching her slowly part her lips, taking in the treat as she maintained eye contact, watching his ears turn pink at the sight, his eyes widening in disbelief. Sure, they had flirted before but never like this.

The loud crunch caught his ears as she pulled back, with half the pop gone, as she licked her lips and frowned, “I was planning on having it later tonight.”

Whining at her, he pulled the mostly eaten treat, staring at what was left at the bottom before pulling it closer to inspect the bite marks, raising a brow at the sight, swallowing at the loss of romance. Okay, so she was still upset.

Just like that, the boxer had a wonderful idea, completely forgetting the third party present, currently eavesdropping on their conversation, or lack thereof. With one swift move, he bit into the remaining ice lolly, savouring the sweet taste before cupping her face and crashing his lips against hers.

A small squeak broke past her lips that were now occupied with his, her arms trailing up his chest to wrap around his neck, fingers caressing the base of his neck. He pulled her closer, palm flat on the small of her back as he used his other hand to hold her still, giving her a neck a little squeeze, tilting her head to have her part her lips, sharing the melted, sticky pineapple juice.

She pushed him away as she gasped for air, licking the remaining traces of the sugar off her swollen lips, staring at him with a hazed expression, matching his, much like his flushed face and heaving chest- the only difference was that he had that cocky smug look plastered on his handsome, bruised features, looking like a boy who had just won a race.

“I had to win tonight.” he whispered, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, hand leaving her neck, shoving it in his pocket to look for something, before pulling it out, “Had to get ya this, paid the deposit, have to give the rest tomorrow.”

She gasped at the small velvet box in his hand, glancing up at him then down at the box, her heart racing against time as she took it with shaky hands, flipping open the lid, blinking at the diamond .

“Oh Sannie…why would you-”

“I can't hold back anymore, daisy. You punched me in the heart the moment I fell into your lap that night.”

Her face flushed at the memory of the fateful night they had met, with her sitting at a bus stop post midnight. Waiting for the bus, when a bruised man stumbled onto the platform, the blood on his knuckles dripped onto the concrete. At first she had tried to ignore the giant man, but they way he was swaying left and right for some tugged the strings of her heart, having her let out an, “Are you alright, Sir?”

That night, he had fallen unconscious in his daisy's lap, forever in debt to her, forever in love with her. Next morning he woke up on a warm bed, all patched up and cozy, with her tending to him after bringing him breakfast- a moment of peace, before he had called Wooyoung who then hired her on the spot.

“You're so stupid San…you didn't have to get me a ring- you could've gotten hurt- I just- you fainted and-”

“I love you too…by the way.” He watched her fumble with her words, cutting her off as be referred to the confession of hers a while ago, giving her a closed eye smile when he slipped the ring on her finger, tossing the box somewhere across the van. Both unaware that the van had come to a stop, as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her palm.

“Kiss me.”

“Wha-” his words cut short as she grabbed his face, much like he had early, only with more force, squishing his plump cheeks, forcing him to pout. This only riled him up further as he gently pushed her onto her back, hovering over her, deepening the kiss, making sure she could feel all the love he had pent up inside for so long. Her lips curled into a smile at his response, hands trailing up his broad back, feeling every ripple of each muscle, her body turning warmer at the way he'd sigh against her mouth. His own hands gripped her by the waist, dragging her closer, chuckling at the little noises she was making. Both lost in bliss, both lost in one another.

“EXCUSE ME, MY VAN IS NO PLACE FOR YOUR NASTY BUSINESS!”

The screech had her push him off her, instantly shivering as the crisp air of the night layering her skin with goosebumps. Their breaths came out in puffs, panting like a pair of teenagers caught in the janitors closet.

“We weren't…doing a-anything.” She huffed, sitting up and glaring at the manager who just scoffed in response, “Mhmmm…I definitely didn't see his tongue shoved down your throat.”

Whining at his snarky response, she pouted at her newly declared lover who gave her a cute smile, one that had her resisting the urge to attack his glistening lips once more. San shook his head at Wooyoung and crawled out of the van, turning to his lady, reaching out for her to help her out of the van, much like he always did, only this time, he boldly wrapped a jacket around her shoulders, before pulling her closer into his side, walking towards the motel Wooyoung had brought them too.

“YAH! This better not become a common practice!” The shorter man yelled at the boxer who's laugh bounced in the dark of the empty night, pulling his source of love and warmth closer, smiling down at her, only to receive a shy smile in return.

Wooyoung watched his best friend walk into the other room behind his lover, waving bye before closing the door, this bastard should be grateful he got them a separate room, more importantly he should be grateful that he had texted her to come quick when San was having his ass handed to him, knowing if there was one sole motivator for the boxer, it was his little daisy.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

[elizaleclerc]

hi! hope you're having a good day, could i request charles dating a reader who doesnt have friends? or just feels lonely in general.. it can be shy if you're not comfortable writing that! just some comfort🥹🥹 thank you!

false god 💋

"and i can't talk to you when you're like this. staring out the window like i'm not your favorite town"

summary: gf!reader and charles get into an argument after ferrari underperforms again.

song: false god by taylor swift

author's note: wrote this bc i had that song stuck in my head oops. no warnings really- just a bit of manipulation if u squint a little. (ALSO HI IM BACK <3)

word count: 2.2k

They all warned you about times like these. The girlfriends of the other drivers looked at you with wary eyes. Most of them vowed to never date a Ferrari driver, but your connection with Charles was unlike any other that you had before. Never date a driver in red because they love that team more than they’ll ever love you, you’d been told before. You always responded with nervous smiles and shaky laughs, hoping that in reality the other girls you had come to know were just playing some sick joke. Like this was all some sort of initiation into the clique that was girlfriends of F1 drivers. 

None of their words felt true when you were next to Charles, his hands on your waist or your head cradled into his neck. Nothing had actually felt more right. You brushed off the warnings from the other girls and chose to focus on the love between you and Charles. You never brought any of this up to him, completely unwilling to cause any unnecessary drama between the close knit group you found yourself in. All of these people have known each other for years, and you were the latest addition. 

In July, with three race weekends back to back, Ferrari’s dominant streak would be tested. Red Bull and McLaren were powering ahead with upgrades and race pace, and it appeared that the powerful scarlet team was falling behind. 

You noticed the tension in Charles’s face after a bad qualifying pace or another bad race result. The boundaries were being stretched. You observed how Charles would brush away your hand at dinner or neglect to kiss you goodnight before bed. The last two weeks had been hell for you, and in the back of your mind you wondered if there was some truth in what the girls had said months ago. Maybe these Ferrari men are just too much to handle after all.   

Before the third and final race of the triple header, Carmen, girlfriend of Mercedes driver George Russel, pulled you aside to have a chat. “I know things have been hard for you and Charles.” 

You furrowed your brows, “What?” You laughed nervously. You hadn’t mentioned anything about the tensions between you and Charles recently. The only way Carmen and the other girls would have found out is if Charles was feeling the same way and he told them himself. 

“Not that I’ve heard anything, just- you know. Ferrari has been falling behind, everyone can see it. And I know Charles cares for you, but that man has loved Ferrari since he could walk. When they don’t do well- when he doesn’t do well- he’s bound to take that out on the people around him.” Carmen easily articulated her explanation, which made your mind swirl even more as the small smile finally fell from your face. 

You sighed, becoming flustered with the whole situation, and the warm sun beaming down caused a sheen across your forehead. “I just don’t know what to do.” You were unsure if Carmen was someone you could fully trust, as you hadn’t exactly made any super close friendships with them. The past couple of months, your whole focus has been Charles. 

“Just know that it isn’t your fault. Before I dated George I dated a Ferrari driver. Their passion for the team and the intensity in their competitiveness makes them unlike any of the others.” She paused for a moment before she continued, “What you have to do is really try to read his emotions and find that balance of giving him space and being there to comfort him. Stand by him when he needs it, and back off if it seems too tense.” 

“That sounds kinda hard,” You broke into a small smile, overwhelmed with the new information you had gained. 

Carmen grabbed your hand, “It’ll be okay. If I do know one thing, it’s that Charles is falling for you. Through thick and thin, I think you guys can make it.” 

A small wave of relief washed over you, “Thanks, Carmen.” As long as someone had faith in your abilities to handle Charles, you didn’t feel so alone. 

~

As most of the fans expected, the Austrian Grand Prix did not go well for Ferrari. Your heart sank when Charles finished outside of the points for the third weekend in a row. It would greatly hinder his ability to fight for the championship. He needed nothing short of a miracle to come back now. 

You knew Charles had been dealing with the press for the last couple of hours, and you didn’t meet back up in the paddock with him until it was time for the two of you to leave to go back to Monaco for the next week. 

You sat in the passenger seat of his car as he drove in silence for a few minutes, navigating his way out of the paddock. Once the two of you had made it onto the main road, you decided to read where his head was at. 

“I’m sorry my love,” you comforted him and grabbed his free hand, giving it a light squeeze. He sneaked his hand out from your grasp, resting it on the steering wheel. You couldn’t help but feel your stomach sink. 

“It’s just ridiculous, we can’t seem to get anything together.” He huffed in frustration, and you wondered if he even realized he had pushed your hand away. 

“Despite the strategy issues, I thought you had a really good drive today.” Maybe a compliment would help? 

He scoffed, “I could’ve been better. I made too many mistakes, regardless of how scrambled our strategy was.” 

You weren’t sure how to respond. You thought it was best for him to ruminate and think things out the rest of the way home. You had the rest of the drive to the airport, and then the whole plane ride to see if he was feeling any better. When you had to speak, you avoided any mention or talk about the race, or more specifically Charles’s performance. 

On the plane, you flew back with Lando and Oscar. Oscar had a fabulous race, and almost won it all. Lando on the other hand fought with Max the whole race and ended up with a DNF. So the plane ride was full of mixed conversation and feelings. Oscar was proud of his win and complimented the McLaren strategy, while Lando aired out his grievances for Max’s intense competitiveness. Charles chimed in regularly to tell them they should consider themselves lucky to not have to deal with the Ferrari pitwall. 

Still, you stayed silent, letting the three of them talk things through. You sat next to Charles in your seat but kept to yourself, trying to read your book but really you were listening to the conversation around you. Not once did Charles take your hand or give you a small peck on your cheek. As it appeared to Lando and Oscar, you and Charles didn’t even look like a couple at all. 

You began to feel that aching pang of loneliness that you were so familiar with before you had met Charles. The feeling of having no one to speak to in a crowded room. You hated to appear shy and reserved, but didn’t want to push yourself to be outgoing. You had been dating Charles long enough that he knew one of your love languages was physical touch. You loved nothing more than small moments of affection, but in the past few weeks it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you. 

~

Charles opened the door to his apartment in Monaco, the moonlight being the only thing that shone on the furniture and pictures hanging on the walls. He languidly flicked on a couple of lamps, adorning the living room with a warm glow.

“You’ve been quiet.” He stated plainly, moving to the kitchen to fix himself a glass of water.

You took a moment to respond, “Well there’s not really much for me to say.” 

Charles turned from the fridge to face you, and looked at your face, seeming to analyze the tone of your words. After he took a sip of his water he asked, “Are you alright?”  

You laugh nervously, “I’ve been better.” 

He furrowed his brows, “What’s the matter?” 

“Cmon, Charles. You can’t be serious.” You knew you were treading dangerous waters, but this conversation was long overdue, and after the exhausting plane ride you felt yourself boiling over. 

He looked back at you expectantly, not knowing what you were getting at. 

“You haven’t noticed the way things have changed between us in the last three weeks? You haven’t noticed that when Ferrari starts struggling you push me aside?” Your voice was steady, but it shook slightly in a mix of nerves and frustration. In all the times you’ve let Charles air out his frustrations, you’ve held all of yours in. 

His lips parted and you knew he was shocked but mostly confused. All of your questions were rhetorical, of course he hadn’t noticed. “You never hold my hand, you’ve stopped introducing me to your friends. I feel like the past few weeks I’ve only been someone for you to fuck to let your anger out.” You were really letting it out now, the words flowing out of you like they could no longer be contained. 

“That’s not true.” He persisted, walking out from behind the counter into the living room where you stood. 

Tears pricked up in your eyes, “It doesn’t matter if it isn’t true, it’s what I feel.” You brought your hand to rest on your chest.

“Listen, you know I’m happy with what we have, I don’t want to change anything about it. But you know my career is important too. My loyalty to this team is important.” He tried to explain himself, but you ruffled your fingers through your hair in exasperation. 

“I fucking knew it, they were right.” You mumbled to yourself, now pacing. 

“Who was right?” Charles pressed. 

“The other girls!” You raised your voice, “As soon as we got together and you were bringing me around the paddock, they warned me. They told me to never date a Ferrari driver. That you’ll always love that damn team more than you’ll love me. They said it so. many. times. And then Carmen told me yesterday that she knew we’ve been having problems and that the more Ferrari struggled the worse you would get.” 

Tears fell down your cheeks as you continued, “I’ve tried, I’ve tried so hard. I’ve said all the right things, held your hand when you’re mad, tried to compliment you to make you feel better about yourself. None of that worked, you would still barely look at me.” Your breathing was heavy and your voice had become raspy with tears. 

Charles moved closer to you, grabbing your trembling hands, “Come on, breathe my love.” You took a deep breath as he moved one of his hands to wipe away your tears. “I’ve never said anything to the other girls about us, I don’t know why they said those things to you.” 

“But- the way you’ve been acting-” you sniffled, looking into his eyes that were filled with such care. You hadn’t seen that look in what felt like forever.

“I know, it’s been tough for me lately. I’ll take full responsibility for not treating you properly. You didn’t deserve any of that.” He gave your hand a slight squeeze, waiting a few moments before speaking again. “I do love this team, and I will push to be the best driver I can possibly be, but…” he swallowed, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t falling for you. You are becoming more and more important to me by the minute, and I’d quit racing today if you asked me to.” 

You let out a dry laugh, “You don’t mean that.” 

“Every word.” 

You were quiet, just looking in his eyes. You could tell he really did mean it. This thing between you and Charles was becoming more serious as the days passed. You knew that you were falling for him too, which is what made these past few weeks all the more confusing. 

“If I could give you any more assurance, it’s that racing- this career- will never ever be a priority over you.” He leaned in to place a light kiss on your temple. 

“I just hate to see you struggling like you have been. I like it when you’re all happy.” You curled your lips into a small smile, and he grinned back. 

He shook his head slowly, “Trust me, I know.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head on his chest. His lips kissed the top of your head, and everything felt right in the world again. 

You pulled away, locking eyes with him. “It gets lonely sometimes, in the paddock. I feel like I’ve failed to make any genuine friends.” 

He planted another kiss on your forehead, “Well, you could always keep to yourself. Be above any drama and gossip. You’d surely be the coolest one there. Then, when it’s all said and done, we have each other.” 

You giggled into his kiss on your lips. Maybe you could eventually trust the other girls eventually, but their cold welcome to you was definitely unappreciated. But you had Charles, and more importantly, you trusted Charles. And you knew that bond wasn’t going away anytime soon.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Always Time for You

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: After you move to Los Angeles to escape an abusive relationship, you meet Deacon Kay and fall in love. When your ex arrives in Los Angeles, you have to tell someone, but don't want to worry Deacon.

Warnings: former abusive relationship, depictions of domestic violence, abuse, angst, fluff and comfort (none of the SWAT men do anything abusive, it's an ex!)

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

The trip across the country is long and slow, each day spent holding your bruised cheek out of view and looking over your shoulder. You promise not to let your guard down when you finally reach Los Angeles. Surrounded by high rises and over 4 million people to blend in with, it would be easy to think you’re safe. But you know better.

Your little apartment in a quiet corner miles from downtown is nice, if not lonely. As you create a new life, you’re unbothered by the solitude, too concerned with being safe than having friends.

And then, in a moment, all of it changes.

1 Year Later

“Excuse me,” someone says behind you.

You flinch when a gloved hand raises beside you, then step out of the way and apologize to the officer. He nods once, then joins his team on the other side of the road. The police presence in your neighborhood today is too familiar. The last time you saw this many cops in one place was because you called them, and they barely made it in time.

Another approaching siren pulls you from your memory, and you step back from the curb. Something stops you, a feeling that going home would not be the right choice.

One of the SWAT officers looks at you and points in your direction. You freeze, remembering the officer who asked Well, did you tell him to stop? You provoked him; you shouldn’t do that if you already know what he’s like. When you look up again, two officers are walking toward you. Chewing the inside of your bottom lip, you hope they’ll walk past you.

“Hi, I’m Sergeant Deacon Kay, LAPD SWAT,” the officer who walked past you earlier says. “Do you live around here?”

“I do,” you answer softly.

“Would you mind answering a few questions?” the other officer, whose nametag says Street, asks.

“Sure,” you agree. “If I can.”

Deacon pulls a picture from his pocket, a folded piece of paper that he straightens before asking, “Have you seen this car around here?”

You lean closer, fighting against your memories, and answer, “I saw it last night. It sat across the street with its lights on from around 8 until midnight.”

“What made you notice it?” Street asks.

“The lights,” you explain. “When it turned, they lit up my living room, then didn’t go off.”

“Left around midnight, you said?” Deacon clarifies. You nod, and he points east to ask, “That way?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks for your help.”

They step back, and you ask, “Um, is it safe? Will he be back or is there anything I should be worried about?”

Deacon smiles and assures, “It’s safe. We’re going to get him.”

As he joins Street to return to Black Betty, Street asks, “We don’t know that; we’ve been looking for two days.”

“And we’ll find him today.”

The next night, someone knocks on your door, and you tiptoe across the room to look through the peephole. When you see Sergeant Deacon Kay, you open the door but hold it as you look at him.

“Hi,” he greets. “I just wanted to let you know we caught him.”

You sigh and whisper your gratitude.

“And… I came to ask you out.”

Smiling, you nod, and for once, you don’t think about your last relationship and let yourself hope for something new, something better.

1 Year Later

“Good morning,” you greet as you answer the phone.

“It is now,” Deacon replies. “How are you?”

“I’m better now.”

You open the door to leave for work but stop when you see a package on your doormat. Deacon says something, but the words across the top of the box are familiar, too familiar. You squat to see it better; the We’re back note is split by the box pulling open. You lift the flap with one finger and see a rope curled tightly inside, with two knots to form hand restraints. You jerk backward, falling onto the floor as you scramble from the box. Your phone hits the floor, and Deacon yells as you reach for it.

“Hey,” you breathe, staring at the box. “I’m okay, sorry, I got startled and dropped my phone.”

“Everything okay?” Deacon asks.

“Yes,” you lie. “Everything is fine.”

“Then I’ll see you tonight. Have a good day.”

“You, too.”

When you reach your car, a pack of matches is tucked under the windshield wipers, and you throw them into the backseat before slamming the door closed and locking it. Someone is close, and the fear you thought you’d left behind hits you like a train when you realize who it is.

Deacon knocks on your door an hour before your date, but he’s still in his uniform.

“I’m so sorry,” he begins. “I have to work overtime, for- for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll have time to make it up to you, but I will. I promise I will.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “Be safe and call me when you can.”

Deacon leans in, ignorant of how your muscles tense before he touches you. He kisses your cheek, whispers another apology, and leaves. As he drives away, you see a knife tucked behind the plant by your door. Rather than spend the extra time with the door open to look at it, you close and lock it. Your breaths grow heavy as your chest tightens, but you have no proof that he’s nearby. You can’t tell the police, and Deacon will get stressed with overtime, so you have to wait for this to pass on its own.

The following week, almost ten days after the first box arrived, you call in sick to work. Sitting in your living room, you watch the front window. You can see your porch and car. By noon, you haven’t seen anyone. Slowly, you open the door, and there’s a boxing glove on the first step, with what looks like dried blood across where the wearer’s knuckles would be. You feel a pressure building in your eyes and know that the terror you experience will kill you from the inside if you don’t tell someone or do something.

“Where are you?” you whisper brokenly, looking across the street but seeing nothing.

Your car catches your attention, a baseball bat propped against the back door, and a spray-painted X marking your door. You know the paint will draw attention, so you find a sponge and car wash in your storage closet before you hesitate at the door. If he was close enough to do this without being seen, he’s close enough to do something to you.

You set the cleaning supplies down and take your phone from your pocket. Scrolling past Deacon’s contact, you text someone else and then sit by the door, staring out the window as you wait for him to arrive.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Luca asks when he sees your blotchy cheeks and blood on your palms, crescent-shaped marks created by digging your nails into your palm.

“He’s here,” you confide in him, struggling to breathe evenly. “Luca, he’s so close.”

“Who?” Luca asks, taking your wrists and looking into your eyes. “Who is he?”

“My ex, he- he hurt me, Luca, and  now he’s here. There’s been knives, matches, rope… he keeps leaving stuff he used to use.”

“Use?” Luca repeats, his voice dropping. “To… to hurt you?”

You nod, then press against his forearms to plead, “You can’t tell Deacon. He’s so stressed with the overtime; I haven’t even talked to him in a week.”

“He needs to know.”

“No, no, Luca, promise that you won’t tell him. I’ll tell you if anything changes or if I actually see him, but I had to tell somebody.”

Luca hesitates, then nods. “Have you seen anything?”

“No,” you admit, dropping your head as a tear rolls over your cheek. “Just the stuff. And the notes… they sound like him, but they don’t look like his handwriting. What am I supposed to do, Luca?”

Luca shakes his head and pulls you into a hug. It’s not the same comfort you can get from Deacon. The realization that you can’t do anything until he’s close enough to see increases your terror to let you finally cry.

Three days after confiding in Luca and thanking him with dinner for cleaning your car, you decide to visit Deacon at the station. You must see him, so you steel your nerves and open the front door. A small pile of weapons and notes is built against your door, and it topples as you step out. You rush to your car and don’t take the time to remove anything from the windshield until you stop at a gas station a block from the station. Shoving the notes, matches, and short length of heavy chain into the trashcan without more than a glance, you hope that Deacon has time to talk. You won’t tell him anything, but you will ask for one of his hugs that make everything better.

As you round your trunk, a truck speeds in behind you. Suddenly, your arms are gripped tightly, and someone pulls you back quickly. Someone else pulls black fabric over your head, and you are shoved into the back of a car before you can think to scream.

“Not a word,” a man says, pushing a cold gun barrel against your ribs.

“We’ll do it,” Deacon offers. “Luca and I can drive by the residence in an unmarked car and bring back a report of what we can see.”

“Do it,” Hicks replies. “Go the long way around, check gas stations and restaurants in the area, too. We need to find her.”

Deacon leads Luca to his unmarked Charger, and Deacon takes the driver’s seat. As they drive toward the suspect’s residence, Deacon stops at a red light beside a gas station.

“Isn’t that your girlfriend’s car?” Luca asks, pointing to a gas pump.

Deacon’s brow furrows as he puts the car into reverse and backs into the station lot. He parks behind your vehicle, and he and Luca walk alongside it, then look over the top at each other.

“I’ll check inside,” Luca offers as Deacon dials your number.

“Thanks,” Deacon replies.

Your phone goes to voicemail, and Deacon looks down in time to see the screen light up in the center console. Luca runs out of the convenience store and calls, “Deac, get in here!”

Deacon runs into the store, and Luca asks the employee to play the security footage again. They watch as three men take you, and Luca takes a shaky breath before he says, “Deacon, there’s something you should know.”

“Time to go home,” one of the men in the car coos.

You stiffen, scared that by home he means they’ll hand you over to your ex. The car lurches to a stop, and you slam into the back of the seat before two sets of hands steady you.

“Well, look who it is.”

Shifting, you try to block out your ex’s voice, but knowing he can see you while you can’t see him makes your heart race and your chest tighten painfully. When he slips his hand under your fabric hood and runs his fingers along your jaw, you jerk backward. The man beside you shoves you forward so your hood can be ripped off.

“Don’t do that again,” your ex demands lowly, holding your jaw tightly.

You look around, hoping to see someone else around who can help you.

“You know the police couldn’t help before.”

“We did what you asked,” the man driving says.

“And? You’ll get paid when I pay you.”

With the distraction, you lean away from your ex. He slides his fingers into your hair when he notices the distance, pulling you forward by the roots. You gasp at the pain, but when you’re shoved out of the car and fall at his feet, suddenly, you’re the same scared girl you were before you ran. There is no escape, and no one knows to look for you.

“Gas pedal is on the right, Street!” Deacon yells from the backseat.

“We’ll get there,” Street promises, remaining patient even as he faces Deacon’s anger and fear. “We need the surprise.”

Deacon’s leg bounces as they approach the tradeoff spot in the note they found from your ex to the men who snatched you at the gas station. Your safety is the priority, but Deacon knows Hondo is worried about what he’ll do to your ex.

“I’m getting her out of there,” Deacon says. “You focus on the criminals stupid enough to email each other with their plans.”

“You got it,” Hondo responds. “Stay liquid.”

As they pull into the parking lot, Street parks by a fence where they can see the black SUV from the gas station and a grey Chevelle beside it. Street exits the driver’s seat in his civilian clothes and waves to the man standing at the back of the SUV.

“Hey, man! I’m trying to get to the road with the stars, uh, Walk of Fame or something? This city is so confusing, can you tell me where to go?” Street calls.

“Yeah,” the man replies, turning so Street can see him. “Away from here.”

Someone groans, and Street says, “Yeah, sure. You okay?”

“Better than you’ll be if you don’t go.”

Street puts his hands up, then smiles. “You’re not very observant.”

Luca and Hondo approach the car from the other side with their guns raised. As they yell commands, three men surrender and move to the side, but your ex remains beside you.

“Step back,” Street demands, moving directly behind him. “These guys have a bet going on how quickly I’ll get impatient today. I’m thinking about letting one of them win. Walk toward my voice.”

“You always were treated like you’re more important than you are,” your ex tells you. “Same cop,” he muses, looking at Luca. “No one wants you.”

“Yep, I’m impatient,” Street decides. He holsters his gun, grabs his collar, and hauls him backward.

As your ex hits the concrete, he begins fighting, so Street drags him across the rocky surface while Deacon rushes to your side. You hear Hondo radioing for backup but focus on Deacon as he kneels beside you.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod and sit up carefully. Leaning against Deacon, you hug him tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Deacon asks softly, brushing his thumb over a bruise on your jaw.

“You were already working overtime, and honestly… I thought I was going crazy,” you admit. “He was leaving stuff and notes, but I never saw him, so I didn’t know.”

“Babe, I always have time for you,” Deacon assures you. He kisses your forehead and adds, “Especially if you’re in danger.”

“He… I moved to LA because of him,” you whisper. “He hurt me. A lot.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to deal with all of this alone, but you can tell me. Please tell me.”

“I will,” you promise. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. I miss you.”

“I’m done with overtime; I’m coming home with you.”

You don’t argue, giving in to your craving for Deacon’s safety and comfort. He’ll always be with you, have time for you, and love you through everything and with all of your scars.

[edgeray]

hi, ray 💟

remember that siren!arle and pirate!reader idea? consider:

siren!arlecchino who preys on pirates lost at sea (not by coincidence, i fear). she doesn't enjoy them much, especially the men. then, she spots you. she's never seen such a pretty little pirate before! she must have you.

of course, she's fortunate enough that you're one of the ones who sits alone on the deck at night, foolishly stargazing while everyone else is tucked away in their beds.

she sings to you, calling you to her, trying to reel you in, only to find it isn't working. you seem to hear her, looking for the singer of the melody, but you're not quite entranced.

she keeps trying, only to eventually be spotted by you. she's... a little embarrassed, to say the least.

whatever else happens is up to you, or feel free to totally change the plot! ♡

The Sea's Calling

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Hi aris!!! Ty for the ask, and for being my first! <333 love you. I hope you like this one. Since it's my first ask, I'm a bit nervous. Is this semi-One Piece-inspired? Perchance. Wasn't sure if you wanted fem! or gn! reader, but considering your writing I chose fem! reader, though I tried to not reference reader as female as much as possible. I kind of didn't know what to do after they met, so I threw in some not so good dialogue :(. It is also 02:00 as I am writing this, and I'm supposed to wake up at 06:00. Quality dropped at the end because I am tired. This was not a good idea doing this tonight but whatever. Content warnings / info - implied fem! reader, monster x human, arle is ooc because she's a siren, 1.7k words 

You had always thought that the sea was calling out for you; it's been your dream since you were young–to explore the vast ocean that this world had to offer, to be surrounded by nothing but the comforting waves, to be free. Being a pirate allowed you to fulfill your dreams. You went on all the adventures you wanted, stole whatever the hell you wanted, and all while doing that with your crew, who cherished each other, you included, like no other. Yes, you've longed for the ocean, and you'd like to think that the ocean was always trying to draw you in. 

Still, when you meant that the sea was calling out for you, you meant in a figurative sense. Not in a literal sense. Though if this was the kind of sign the ocean was giving you, you might as well jump the ship. 

—

Pretty gems came far and few in Arlecchino's eyes. Humans, lost at sea and lured in by her voice, were easy meals. She was rarely picky with her meals, sustenance was sustenance, she supposes, but still she finds it disappointing the lack of humans that were easy on her eyes. The seas were infested with brutish and crude-looking humans, particularly among the males. It is a shame that it's been a good while since she's seen a human female, with their fair bodies and their soft features– a suitable mate for her. 

She wanders the sea again, not especially hungry, but if she finds a meal or two, she wouldn't have to find another for a few more days. Traveling through the waters, sniffing for the faint and familiar scent of human musk, she finds a ship soon, to her mild delight. She approaches the ship, it being smaller than most ships that wander this part of the ocean, but no matter. She is sure that she'd be able to snag at least one human tonight–there is bound to be one that is awake? 

Peeking her head above the water, she observes the deck of the ship for any humans yet to have slumbered. Humans in slumber were always hard to lure in, but possible. Her eyes gleam when she spots a lone figure on the surface of the deck. It seems like tonight's hunt would prove to be easy. Nearing closer, however, the smell that comes from this figure is distinct to the usual humans she encounters. Though still reeking of the musk that all humans contain, the human contains a refreshing fauna smell and lacks the liquor aroma that most males contain. Curious, she nears the ship more until she can observe the distinct features of the human that sits so carelessly on the edge of their ship.

Her cold heart thumps like never before when she finally spots you, and oh, how she pauses in utter awe. A human whose beauty far surpasses that of any ivory pearl or glittering gold. Has there ever been a human more majestic than you? She would dismiss any notion of a human achieving flawlessness, but yet here you are, shredding her previous foolish thoughts. How do you attain such, so effortlessly? Oh, how fortunate for her to have decided to roam the sea tonight, for the ocean to have given her the most perfect mate in waiting. She must have you, no human male could ever treasure you like she can. She would give you the sea, if it made you hers. 

And so she sings, her sweet song carrying into your ears like a gracious invite. She hopes for you to accept.  

— 

The stars are beautiful, you often think to yourself. It is another reason why you love being out in the sea. Directly underneath the stars, sometimes you feel that you're close enough to reach out and touch them. Little dancing specks of lights were all they were to you, and yet you were entranced each time. The stars and constellations have become one of your closest companions, always twinkling down on you regardless if you were facing soothing waves or warring riptides. Like so many nights before, you find yourself perched on one of the railings of the ship, simply gazing up, observing the midnight canvas that spans above you. 

Is there something more beautiful than stars? 

You find your answer that night when you hear a voice, melodic and sweet sounding, sugarier than any honey-coated treat. It piques you, as you know from the sound's direction it does not come from inside your ship, but beyond–somewhere in the waters. You'd imagine it's what people would describe as a voice from the heavens, because a light song fills the air, nearly entrancing you, however you're too busy searching the source of the sound for the intended effect to be inflicted on you. Instead of impelling your body to go overboard, you whip your head around, still seeking for the singer. 

You've heard of instances like these. You've heard of the warnings: if you hear a beautiful song coming from the waters, you cover your ears and ignore it as much as possible. Though, many say that once you hear them, it is much too late for you. The fates of those who had fell for those voices, you know of them too well, and you intend not to share the same fate. You've heard that among those that were able to escape a siren's call, they're easily dissuaded after one song. All you had to do was to ignore the voice until the song's end. 

The song ends soon after. You pay no mind as silence fills the void, just the sound of waves and the whistles of the wind as your company. But then, another song, the same one. After the second repeat, it starts again, and after that, another.

Were sirens this persistent? You've never heard of one this stubborn. But it is thanks to these songs that you're finally able to pinpoint the origins, and your eyes catch the slight glint of scales in the moonlight, and then the head of ivory hair. A pale face peaks from the water's currents, along with the tip of something–a tail, you discern. You gasp slightly once crimson-pupils land on yours, but then the head sinks down, like a shy animal having been caught. 

Adorable. Was this an unfitting description of what was most likely a siren? You disregarded that very thought, instead, opting to wondering why this siren wanted your attention so much. After all, you should give her the respect of your acknowledgement of her existence after four songs. 

Perhaps you were an idiot. Perhaps you were just heading straight to a gruesome death. But had those things stopped you previously, you would have never been out here, never would have been a pirate. Foolish curiosity may be the death of you, but not tonight. And so, like a pirate in search of their treasure, you take to the seas; in this case, literally into the sea. You let yourself lean backwards on the railing, arms outstretched by your side as you freefall into the sea. 

Surely, if the siren wanted you so badly, then she would save you, wouldn't she? 

The icy waters greet your form, and you shiver. Your breath is stolen away, and it is only you start sinking that you start to question your choice. You stare up, with only the moonlight reflecting off the water, your source of life and you instinctively reach out towards it. Your eyes burn from the brine, so you close your eyes, trying to combat the swallowing waves as you futilely flail your arms. 

Something moves in the water, and before you know it, a weight presses against your chest, something distinctly cold and what you imagine scales to feel like, and something else slides underneath your arms, the texture much like human skin. You feel your body begin to rise, until the sudden rush of oxygen barrages at you, and you greedily inhale the air with heaving breaths, while coughing out the sea water from your throat. Once you're done hacking up your lungs, you crack open an eye, greeted with the same gorgeous face you saw earlier. 

“You're beautiful…” The both of you say at the same time, and you feel your ears burn from the compliment. Her voice, deep and resounding, rings through your ears. Meanwhile, her expression visibly brightens, akin to the stars you adore so much. 

“Y-you won't eat me, right?” You ask hesitantly, and to your relief, she shakes her head no. She pulls you closer, before nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. The arms wrapped around your figure tightens, and so does the tail around your legs. 

“No. Want to be my mate.” She says bluntly, and you feel sharp fangs prick your skin. You gasp, and she pulls her mouth away, deciding to lick your neck as a quick apology. 

“Why me?” 

“Pretty human. But stupid.” 

“Hey!” You exclaim out of feigned annoyance, but then she purrs into your neck, the noise vibrating through your body. Sirens purr? That is adorable. “What does being a mate mean?”

“You are with me, forever. I feed you, protect you, love you, always. Mine, forever.”

A tempting offer, truly, especially with the way her clawed hands grip your sides so tenderly and the way she looks at you like you are her sun.

“But what about my companions?”

“You do not need them.” 

“I do,” you assert, and her face falls. It's like being stabbed in the heart, seeing her expression like that. You raise both of your hands and cup her face. 

“I want you,” she says, with as much of a whine as a siren can possibly make. It is cute, a mix between a cry and a groan. 

“I need them too.” 

“I am not enough?” 

“I want to be free. I don't want to stay in one place.” 

“Then I will follow,” the siren asserts, her red pupils ablaze with determination. It is as simple as that, apparently. “Can I?” 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you affirm with a nod. “Don't eat them either. Then I'll be yours.” 

The siren nods, purring again. “My pretty human. Mine?”

You smile. “Yours.” 

Salty lips are brought against yours and you've never been more elated–here is the freest you've ever felt. 

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 6

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you get settled into a routine until it gets interrupted; what is 'the gala' and why do you have to go to it?

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

You spend the next few days training with Felix and reading in your spare time. When you finish Pride and Prejudice, Hyunjin tells you at dinner to let yourself into his room to grab your new book from his nightstand. You fly through them, and every consequent time you finish a book you find yourself at Hyunjin’s door. Sometimes you would find a new book on his nightstand with your name on it, and other times Hyunjin would be in his room, painting. Sometimes you would try to make small talk, but often it would fall short. Not that it was awkward, you just didn’t have a lot to talk about. Every time you returned to your room and opened a new book, it would have a note from Hyunjin. Most of the time, it would have a short message about why ‘this is the perfect recommendation for you,’ and though you roll your eyes each time, he is almost always, infuriatingly right. 

Training with Felix doesn’t get any easier, at least at first. You’re able to shave just a few seconds off of your mile time, though your muscles ache more and more each day. You find yourself getting comfortable in this routine, of waking up to Felix waiting for you in the gym, of short conversations when running to distract you from the pain, and of small lingering touches on the small of your back when he teaches you how to fight. After breakfast you would read for a few hours, walk around the house, and sometimes make conversation with the others. You find yourself lonely sometimes, wishing that you had a phone or something to entertain yourself with, but oftentimes you find yourself binging TV. 

Seungmin might walk by and make an offhand comment about the show you're watching, claiming to have no interest, but will stand in the corner of the room with his arms crossed and pretend he’s not watching. Sometimes, you’ll find Jisung sleeping in some random corner of the house, snoring just loud enough to hear. Around dinner time, you help to prepare the food since you have nothing else to do, helping Jeongin set the table or making drinks with Changbin. You almost forget sometimes that these men are supposed to be dangerous. 

Until one day, your routine is interrupted. When you wake up, you hear yelling in the distance and you shoot out of bed, heart racing. You run to your door and think twice to open it, instead opting to press your ear up against it. You instantly recognize the voices as belonging to Felix and Chan, and while your breathing slows because you don’t sense any imminent danger, you can’t help but be curious about what the two could be arguing about. 

“Can’t!... S…pid idea!!” you hear Felix say. You will your heart to stop beating if only so you could hear them better. 

“D…owe me! W..ch… mind your tone.” The voices are getting closer, you realize, and you hear a door slam and a loud sigh before a knock comes to your own door. You jump back about six feet, your hand clutching your chest. 

You scramble to your bed, sitting down and picking up a book in order to appear normal, as if you weren’t eavesdropping.  You call for the visitor to enter, and the door swings open to reveal Chan. He appears seemingly level-headed which you wouldn’t expect from someone who engaged in an argument just seconds ago. 

“We’re leaving tonight,” Chan says to you. Your brow furrows in confusion and though you don’t know what to expect, you can already feel the anxiety pooling in your chest from this change in your routine. 

“Leaving? To go where?” 

“The Gala.” Okay, now you’re even more confused. It must show on your face, because Chan delves into an explanation before you can even ask. “Once a year, the city hosts an annual Gala. It’s meant for the richest, most elite people in the country for the sake of appearances. Even for people in the mafia, we have a lot of money and hold a lot of power over the city so they invite us. We’re expected to attend.”

“Okay… but what do I have to do with this?” 

“Do you remember the conversation we had about gaining my trust? There’s no way I feel comfortable leaving you alone after what you pulled. Secondly, Yang Jungwon is going to be there. Essentially, it’s our opportunity to show you off and piss him off, asserting that we have the upperhand.” 

Jungwon. You’ve thought about the man less and less over the past few days, busy navigating your new lifestyle. Still, hearing his name makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat, skin prickling in fear. You already begin imagining worst-case scenarios in your head, from getting screamed at to being straight-up murdered on the dance floor. Neither situation is appealing. 

Chan senses your discomfort and sighs. “I don’t know how much comfort this will provide, but all nine of us will be there to make sure you’re safe. You’ll have your own personal security the entire night. Nobody will put a hand on you.” 

You want to snap back and say you would be safer if he didn’t force you to go at all, but you bite your tongue. Even the technicalities of the event make you nervous. Your hair? Your makeup? You’ve never been to an event like this where you’re judged on your appearance and that makes you frown. What are the chances that you’ll actually look up to par? 

Your early-morning training session is forgotten about that morning due to the disruption. When you return to your room after breakfast, your door is wide open; Jeongin is inside, hanging a gown up on your wardrobe. You try not to ogle it too much in front of him but you can’t help yourself. The length of the dress reaches the floor, excess fabric pooling into a small train that’ll linger behind you when you walk. It’s silver and shimmery, its essence capturing the light that shines through the window just right. When you look around the room, you can see its reflection emanated onto the ceiling and walls, giving your room the appearance of a disco ball. 

You’re sure your expression doesn’t do justice to what you’re feeling at this moment, but Jeongin laughs anyway, soft and jovial. It’s enough to snap your attention back to the man, suddenly remembering his presence. 

“Do you like it?” he questions. His lopsided grin and bright eyes make you hesitate; why does he seem so invested in your response? ‘He loves fashion,’ you remember Felix telling you. It warms your heart–he must really care about your response. 

“I love it,” you say, and it’s the truth. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I almost don’t feel fit to wear something like this, it just seems so outside of my realm.” 

“I know what you mean,” he tells you. “That’s the beauty of dressing up, though. You can pretend to be someone you’re not.” You don’t get a chance to ask him what he means, because he’s handing you a shoebox and clasping his hands together in excitement. 

Of course the matching silver heels are extravagant, if not a little tall for your liking. You don’t tell him that, though, accepting the gift gratefully. 

Jeongin stands to the side for a moment and waits for you when you disappear into the bathroom and try the dress on. When you appear moments later after fighting with the intricacies of the zippers and layers, the smile on his face is full of wonder. You almost wonder if the glimmer in his eyes are remnant of the shine from your dress. 

When you turn around to do your makeup, you see his face fall from the mirror. You wonder what he could have possibly seen to kill his expression that fast and you panic, wondering if you ripped a part of the gown when you walked out of the bathroom. You whip around, catching his eye. 

“What?” you ask, full of urgency. 

“Your back,” he points out. When you turn to the mirror you see it, the lashes given to you by Chan the other day. They peek out of the back of the dress, raised, swollen, and ugly. 

You sigh, dejected. “It kind of ruins the outfit, doesn’t it?” you ask, slightly joking. He gives you a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“If I bandage them up for you, maybe it won’t be that bad,” he suggests. “We should have a bandage large enough, one that matches your skin tone!” You indulge him, curling your hair when he runs out of the room to go grab supplies. When he returns, it’s with an even larger first-aid kit than the one you used to patch yourself up on your first night here. 

You feel grateful when he sits behind you, color-matching your skin with bandages. He applies some ointment onto your skin under the bandage that makes you wince, but you’re grateful for his help. With the wounds being on your back, you haven’t been able to give them the adept attention it probably needed. You fill the silence with conversation. 

“If you love fashion so much, how did you end up here?” you’re reminded of Felix the other day, telling you that someone like yourself shouldn’t have ended up here, in a life surrounded by crime. You can’t help but share the sentiment with someone like Jeongin, someone with such an obvious passion and youthful glee that doesn’t belong here. It makes your heart squeeze with sadness and you feel overprotective over the man, to how you imagine one might feel with a younger brother. 

You feel his fingers still on your back when you ask the question. He returns to tending to your wounds just as fast, before responding sadly, “Things don’t always work out the way you want them to.” 

You think you understand Jeongin more than you’d like to admit. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When you walk down the hall Chan is waiting for you expectantly. 

“You look nice,” he tells you, and you flush because he can’t possibly mean it. Not when he looks so attractive and put-together, a demonstration of wealth. 

He wears a suit, navy slacks and blazer over a navy dress-shirt, adorned with red detailing along the hem, definitely designer. The fabric is so dark that you almost mistake it as black at first. His outfit does not have even a single wrinkle or speck of dust on it. He has a little gold pin on his lapel, and if you squint you can see that it resembles a rose. It shines even brighter than your own gown. His wrists are accessorized with silver jewelry, a bracelet on each wrist and a large ring on his pointer finger. Even better, his hair is styled and falls neatly, wisping just past his forehead, strands settling just beneath his eyes. He holds power in just his looks alone, intimidating in his well-tailored outfit. It even has you subconsciously straightening your back and wiping your face clean of any expression in response. 

So, yes, it feels a little surreal to have the Bang Christopher Chan complimenting you on your looks, but you know that if you are to accompany him tonight at the Gala you need to look just as put-together. 

In his hands he holds a long slender box, and he hands it to you. 

“What’s this?” You ask, accepting the box. 

“Just a little something for tonight. It’s nothing, really,” he says, but as you open the box your mouth drops open. 

The necklace you hold is elegant and you let it dangle from your hands, watching it sway back and forth in awe. It’s gold with a small pendant sitting at its end; a gold rose, to match his own pin. A claim. It’s easily the most expensive thing you’ve ever held in your hands but Chan shrugs it off lightly. 

“Here, let me,” he says, reaching for the necklace. You push your hair up and out of the way so he has easy access to your neck as he makes work to clasp it. His hands are ice cold in disagreement with the warm breath on your neck, and your skin prickles in response to the proximity. Then you feel the necklace settle on your chest and he steps away, the interaction over as fast as it started. 

He motions you to the front door, and outside there are two luxurious black cars waiting. Chan opens the door of one and motions for you to get inside. As you slide in, you take notice of the body sitting to your left. Felix. You look at him in the glow of the overhead light in the car and even then he looks majestic. He wears a suit, all white with white blazer and white dress shirt with small and intricate floral details that you would miss if you weren’t looking closely. You could mistake him for an angel with the way the color pops against his blemish-free skin. You think for a moment that even if you tried to scrutinize Felix, if you were to really look closely, you would still find that he is devoid of any imperfections. 

When you slide closer to him you notice the flowery yet musky scent of his cologne. Your body reacts to it and you find yourself leaning into it, trying to get a closer inspection of the smell and you shake your head at yourself in embarrassment. No way are you going to let yourself react in such a way to a man like Felix, deceiving innocent persona aside. 

When you look over at him, you see his eyes flit up and down your frame, taking in your appearance. His eyes linger for a moment and you swear you’ve imagined it, but he graces you with a smile before turning his gaze away.  You buckle your seatbelt and watch as Chan slides to the other side of you, and you are now wedged between the two men. You wonder if Chan thinks that you would try to run out of the moving vehicle, but you are not that dumb. 

The lights dim and the car sets in motion, weaving out of the driveway that is encased in the forest. You are reminded that it was only a few days ago Felix, Hyunjin and Changbin had retrieved you from your failed attempt at escape. This scene is awfully reminiscent, though Changbin drives and Seungmin is now in the passenger seat. Neither of the men speak.

All the meanwhile, you are completely and utterly tense. Not only are you hyper aware of every touch from the two men, Chan’s leg and body pressing into you whilst Felix leans away from you and toward the door, but you are also reminded of the fact that you will see him tonight. Jungwon. 

As if sensing your apprehensiveness, Chan begins to speak. 

“You'll be with at least one of us at all times,” he says. “He won’t be expecting to see you there, so we’ll have the upperhand, as I said earlier. You will be at my side the entire night, and if not you're not, you'll be with either Changbin or Felix. I don’t know how else to assure you of your safety, but you will be in good hands.” You nod your head silently. Felix glances over at you for a second and meets your eye, giving you a reassuring smile. 

When you arrive at the function, the car door is opened for you. Chan steps out and he holds out his hand for you to grab onto. You do so with minimal hesitation. You look up at the venue with wide eyes; if Chan’s house was big, then this is certainly a mansion. Neatly groomed shrubbery lines the illuminated walkway, white quartz that clicks against your heels when you walk. The white house is almost more windows than anything else and you can see the bustle of the party from inside. Everything about the house is extravagant, including the nameless servants and butlers in all black that satisfy the people’s every request, including holding the door open for you, Chan and his group of people to walk into. When you walk up the stairs you have to lift your dress up so you do not trip over it. 

Inside the main entrance is a large ballroom that is brightly lit, tables with white silk tablecloths pushed to the side in order to make way for an expansive dance floor. The room is full of people dressed just as eloquently as yourself, some of them moreso. In the corner, a pianist and violinist play light classical music that sets the mood.

You think about what your life would have been like right now if you weren’t acquainted with this group of people, that a second thought or look would’ve never been spared to you by any person in this room, and that in an entire lifetime you would have never gotten an invitation. These thoughts are pushed aside when you see a woman walking by holding a tray of refreshments, the glass of champagne looking awfully tempting to ease your nerves. When you glance at Chan he chuckles, waving his hand at you in permittance. 

“Go for it. Enjoy yourself, but don’t go overboard,” he says. You grab the glass eagerly and take small sips from it, attaching yourself closely to the group of men you arrived with. Your eyes dart around the ballroom, trying to see if you can find the man you recognize but are dreading to make contact with. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder and the familiar scent of cologne floods your senses. Felix. “Hey,” he says. “Dance with me.” 

The request takes you by surprise, but he uses that opportunity to guide you to the dance floor by the hand, giving you ample opportunity to move away. Your hands fall lightly on his shoulders, unsure, but when his hands meet your waist respectfully, you relax into him. Of course, you aren’t the only ones on the dance floor but it is still early into the night, most people still mingling or enjoying the refreshments. Your breath quickens and you’re filled with another wave of anxiety, eyes darting around as you sway back and forth to the music. Where is Jungwon? Why can’t you find him?

“Look at me,” Felix urges, and you do. In this lighting you take a moment to truly take in the details of his appearance. His blonde hair is combed through and pushed back, sprayed in place but with carefully selected pieces to frame his face. A small braid is woven through the side of his hair, leaving him with a half-up/half-down sort of hairstyle that once again reminds you of a fae. You also notice that he’s wearing earrings, a small set of silver hoops that brings the whole look together. 

“I’m nervous,” you admit. Your eyes are wide open and you have to remind yourself to breathe and breathe and breathe. 

“Don’t be,” he says. “You’ve never been safer.” He reaches and tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ears and peers into your eyes, and you feel utterly seen by him. You know he knows every thought you’re thinking and that he can sense every unshallow breath you take. You also know that this action of sweeping you away to the dance floor is meant to be a distraction, a way to keep you from being nervous about the events from tonight. Why does Felix care so much? What will happen when Jungwon sees you tonight? Will he try to talk to you? There’s not going to be a fight, not tonight, not in front of all these people, right? 

“You look beautiful tonight.” Felix somehow knocks all thoughts of Jungwon out of your head, which is seemingly exactly what he planned to do. 

“What?” You say, eyes searching his face for any dishonesty. There is none. You become nervous once again tonight, and this time it isn’t because of Jungwon. 

“You look beautiful,” he repeats. “Stunning.” The hands on your hips guide you to the music and he eases you to lean into him more. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you earlier. Your hair, your makeup, your shoes… I feel greedy when I look at you because I’m happy that you’ve been able to stay with us so far. I like knowing that you’re safe and nobody else can get to you again, but also… I want to see you like this more often. I know the circumstances aren’t ideal,” he says. “But your face lit up today for the first time since you’ve been in the house with us. I just want it to stay like that. I don’t know why, but I want you to stay happy.” He smiles at you and your face is so on fire that you just have to look away, unable to meet his unwavering gaze any longer without falling apart. 

However, when your eyes trail away, your eyes recognize somebody in the crowd and your blood runs cold. Not Yang Jungwon, however. 

Woojin. 

“Felix,” you say urgently. You know the concern is evident in his voice but his face doesn’t change expressions, an evident poker-face masking his features. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

His hands never leave your waist. 

“W-Woojin,” you stammer. 

“Shit. Okay. Tell me exactly what you see,” he urges. You keen your head over slightly, standing on tiptoes to get a better view of the situation. Woojin appears to be talking to someone but they have their back turned to you. He’s tall, burgundy hair swept to the side with a straight, powerful stance. As if he senses your gaze, the man turns around and looks over his shoulder. You stiffen. 

“Heeseung,” you whisper to him. Felix’s lips purse into a tight-lipped smile and his brows furrow. You can tell that fact makes him tense which unnerves you further. 

“We need to find Chan,” he says. “If Woojin is talking to Heeseung, there’s a possibility that ENHA can find out about the infiltration mission. Minho could be in danger.” His hands fall from your hips and you find yourself immediately missing the contact but he opts for taking your hand instead, leading you towards the area where all of SKZ is waiting. Felix urges you to stay calm, act natural, and take a deep breath. His words are reassuring.

Chan is talking to another man, an acquaintance you can only presume. Felix drops your hand, passing you to Changbin to watch over you. “Stay here,” he says, and he walks over to Chan to speak into his ear.  

Changbin looks over at you, noticing your distress. “Can I use the bathroom?” You say suddenly. Your heart is beating right out of your chest, you can’t steady your breathing, and you feel dizzy and uncomfortable on your feet. You might throw up. You feel your chest tightening and you feel the need to just splash some water onto your face. Changbin hurriedly walks you across the ballroom and waits for you outside of the bathroom, giving you an opportunity to take a deep breath. It’s quiet in here, the noise from the music ensemble not quite making it past the doors. You hope that Woojin and Heeseung haven’t noticed you yet, but you remind yourself that Chan probably has a plan.  Taking a deep breath, you grab a wet paper towel and use it to blot your face, trying to cool yourself down without  ruining your makeup. The time spent alone was well-used, you think, and you can feel yourself starting to become calm. You open the door, ready to face the situation at hand again. You peer around the corner, immediately noticing Changbin’s absence. Strange, you think, but that’s the last thought you have before feeling a hand gripping your chin and holding something over your mouth and nose, rendering you incapable of breathing. 

“Hello, love,” you hear. You could recognize that voice, the voice of your past lover anywhere, even in your nightmares. “Did you miss me?” You have no chance to answer before your vision fades to black. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

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