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colonelarr0w · 8 months ago

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Hiiii, I have a request. Imagine a highschool AU where reader has a massive crush on Sukuna but she thinks he has a thing with Uraume, but he actually likes her. Ok ok, so hear me out. Reader is childhood friends with Yuuji and Sukuna and she notices how Sukuna and Uraume have been hanging out a lot. So she asks Yuuji if Sukuna is going to prom and he says yes, and that he is probably going with Uraume. So reader is sad and doesn't want to go to prom anymore even after already buy her dress. Buttt, the day before prom, Sukuna and Reader end up talking and she mentions how he and Uraume are going together and he is confused. Then they both confess and end up going together. Pleaseeeeee make this as angsty as possible, I love me some good angst😫

A/N - Ooh, you know I love me some angst. And considering that it's actually prom season right now, this makes this fic that much more personal to me (I don't have a date LMAO).

The Other Woman

Preview - "The fuck was so great about Uruame anyway? Maybe it was her intelligence, maybe it was her athleticism. Or maybe, just maybe, it was her ability to interact with Sukuna without stumbling over every other word."

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, mention of violence (Sukuna will be Sukuna)

Word Count - 4.3k

It was April now.

The season where girls compared prom dresses and guys anxiously put together their extravagant plans to ask the girl of their dreams to prom. It was the season that also revealed who was romantically interested in who — the couples that were thought to have been endgame break up juust before prom season, and if luck was truly a real thing, two people that nobody thought were romantically interested in the other were suddenly sucking face in the hallway.

And even though you had been saying since the beginning of the school year that you likely were not going to attend prom …

… you found yourself standing in a dress shop with Nobara and Maki, both of whom were dressing you in flashy colors and, quite frankly, expensive dresses.

“You’re kidding! Of course you’re going to prom, we’re not going without you,” Nobara comments, her tone offended as if you had told her that her shirt didn’t match her pants. Maki crosses her arms over her chest, agreeing wholeheartedly with the brunette at her side.

“Come on Nobara, it’s not like it’s gonna be worth it. You both have dates,” you point out, taking a sip from your water bottle and sending both of your friends knowing looks.

“And? You can go with Yuuji, you’ve both been conjoined at the hip since grade school,” Maki retaliates with a raise of her eyebrow. Nobara nods in agreement.

“First of all, I’m not taking my guy best friend to prom. I don’t want people to get the wrong idea,” you begin, holding up your hand and using your fingers as an imaginary list. “And second, I kind of want someone to ask me that is … y’know … romantically interested in me.”

Nobara claps her hands together as the curtain of your dressing room is yanked to the side, her smile widening impossibly further as she silently commands you to spin. You comply, turning in a circle in the royal blue dress that she had forced you into.

“I don’t know,” you say for the umpteenth time. Nobara deflates in her seat, turning her head to Maki in the hopes that maybe she would say something to convince you. But the green-haired girl doesn’t say anything, because in a way she understands.

“Come on (Y/N). Help us out here,” Nobara all but begs you, standing from her chair and walking over to you. She turns you in the direction of the full-body mirror in front of you, her hands affectionately squeezing her shoulders. “What color do you want to wear? Let’s start there.”

“I don’t even want to go Nobara,” you retaliate, meeting her gaze in the mirror’s reflection. She sighs again, dramatically letting go of you and sulking once she returns to her seat.

Maki rolls her eyes, finally walking over to you and glancing at you through the mirror. “Here, instead of color, who do you want to go to prom with?”

You freeze, already feeling your cheeks heat as your eyes flicker to momentarily meet Maki’s in the reflection.

“D’you think Sukuna is actually going to prom?” you ask Yuuji, stealing a chip from the bag that he holds and grinning to yourself as he silently shifts to ensure that you won’t steal another. He lifts his legs, crossing his ankles over one another as he hums in thought.

“I think he might’ve mentioned it. But you know him,” Yuuji pauses to eat another chip, “he’s not really one for those kinds of parties, y’know?”

You nod, but at the same time you can feel your heart sinking. Was it really a secret that you had a crush on the older brother of your childhood best friend? Honestly … no. But everyone but Sukuna knew (obviously), and yet nobody had really tried anything to help push you together.

Maybe that was because of his reputation, or maybe it was because your friends were trying to “protect” you from someone that you really didn’t need to be shielded from.

“Actually, now that you mention it,” Yuuji turns to you, crumpling up the now empty chip bag and tossing it into the garbage bin just a few feet in front of the two of you. “I think he mentioned asking Uruame to prom.”

You fall silent, nodding your head. “Mm … right.”

“I don’t know,” you answer again, shrugging your shoulders and already moving back towards the dressing room. You rip open the curtain, stepping inside and sighing. You lift your hands, rubbing them over your face as Yuuji’s words replay like a broken record in your head.

The fuck was so great about Uruame anyway?

Maybe it was her intelligence, maybe it was her athleticism. Or maybe, just maybe, it was her ability to interact with Sukuna without stumbling over every other word.

You glance upward at the small mirror in the dressing room, already reaching behind you to unzip the dress. You step out of it, returning it to its hanger before emerging again from the dressing room. Nobara and Maki glance up at you, having expected you to be wearing another dress.

“I think I’m done for today, if anything, I’ll just wear an old dress,” you say nonchalantly, trying to hide the waver that had started to creep into your tone. Maki nods understandingly, but Nobara rises to her feet and promptly places both hands on her hips.

“(Y/N),” she says sternly, stomping over to you and grabbing both of your hands into her own. “We are going to find you a perfect fucking dress, you are going to have a perfect fucking time at prom, and we are going to all go together because fuck men.”

Maki sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. "Nobara-" she begins, but her words are quickly cut off by a dismissive wave of Nobara's hand.

"Now come on," Nobara places her palms flat against the backs of your shoulders, pushing you back towards the dressing room and turning to get the attention of the consultant who had been helping the three of you. "We're finding you a dress, and it's gonna be perfect."

< ... >

"Here brat, got you those fuckin' chips that you won't shut up about," Sukuna rolls his eyes as he closes the front door. He turns towards the couch, promptly throwing a bag of chips at Yuuji's face. You bite back the chuckle that claws up your throat as Yuuji yells out in surprise, pressing his palms against his face.

"The hell?! Uncalled for!" Yuuji whips his head around to send a glare to his older brother, the latter of whom only shrugs before turning his attention to you.

"Here, got you somethin' too," he says gruffly, clearing his throat as he rummages through the white plastic bag that he's slung over his arm. From it he removes a bag of candy that you had mentioned liking, which he hands to you.

"Oh, thanks Sukuna!" You turn to smile at him as you take it, fingers momentarily brushing against his own. The contact brings a gentle pink hue to your cheeks, though his face remains stoic as ever – completely unreadable. As he usually was.

Sukuna only grunts in response to your thanks, then turning on his heel and promptly vanishing into his room. You return your attention to the movie that Yuuji had put on, noticing him staring at you out of the corner of your eye.

"What?"

"Do you … shit (Y/N) … do you like my brother?"

You cough, Yuuji's question catching you completely off of your guard. You whip your head to face him, cheeks heating at the knowing smile that your best friend wears. He abandons his chips, already rising to his feet.

Shit.

You spring up from your place on the couch, already diving for Yuuji. Your arms lock around his waist, knocking both him and yourself to the ground. "Don't you fucking dare."

The pink-haired boy merely laughs in response, opening his mouth to yell. You yelp, pressing both of your palms against his lips and pressing down hard. He winces, but his eyes are still crinkled in that bright little shit-eating grin that continues to remind you just how fucked you were.

You stare down at him, eyes as cold as ice. "Say a word and I'll kill you."

Yuuji only rolls his eyes, but that shit-eating grin never once fades from his face.

< ... >

"See! I told you that we would find the perfect dress!" Nobara says proudly, hands on her hips as she admires you from behind. Her eyes meet yours in the reflection of your bedroom's mirror, lips turned upward in a smile.

You had to admit, the dress was absolutely gorgeous. It was (Y/F/C) with gentle highlights and trimmings that fit around both your chest and waist. The center of the dress was corseted, accentuating your figure; and the train of the dress was long enough to flow behind you, but not long enough that you would trip over it.

You turn your body around in the mirror, admiring the lace-up back of the dress. For the first time in a very long time, you felt pretty.

"Alright, alright, fine. I'll admit … it is very pretty." You bite back a chuckle as Nobara claps her hands together, giddily turning to Maki and waiting for the green-haired girl to verbally approve as well.

"You do look amazing (Y/N)," Maki nods in agreement, her compliment bringing a gentle smile to your face. Nobara nods her head frantically, turning back to you and grinning again as her eyes rake up and down your figure.

The three of you pause at the sound of your front door opening and closing, followed then by your mother happily greeting whoever it was that had turned up on your doorstep. Nobara shoots you a confused look, one that you respond to with a confused look of your own.

"(Y/N)! Yuuji's here!"

You sigh, lifting your fingers to your nose and pinching at the bridge of your nose. You had completely forgotten that you had agreed to go to the arcade with Yuuji, and now here you were, standing in a prom dress even after you had told him countless times that you simply weren't going.

Nobara and Maki exchange glances, but neither of them say anything to you or each other.

"Okay! You can let him upstairs!"

The sound of foosteps approaching your door already has your blood running cold, but the expression that Yuuji wears when he opens your bedroom door makes it somehow colder.

"Oh wow (Y/N)! You look great! But I thought you said that you weren't coming to prom?" Yuuji points out, tilting his head curiously at you as he angles himself to close the door behind him. He glances then at both Nobara and Maki, neither girl answering him, leaving it completely up to you.

You clear your throat, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another as you turn to face Yuuji completely. "Yeah … I know. Nobara kind of convinced me."

"Well, that's good!" Yuuji smiles sweetly, already moving towards your desk chair and flopping down into it. "Are you going with anyone?"

You remain silent – and that's when Nobara decides to step in, noticing the uncomfortable expression that you wear at Yuuji's question.

"She's coming with me and Maki," she answers. You nod, clearing your throat as you turn to Yuuji, half-expecting him to furrow his eyebrows at you. But luckily, he smiles at Nobara's response, nodding his head and deciding not to breach the subject any further.

< … >

"There you are, where's the brat?" Sukuna asks as he approaches you, leaning against the locker beside your own. You chuckle lightly at him, tilting your head to glance up at him – oddly enough, he was already staring at you.

"Yuuji? I think he's just finishing up with the Occult Club," you answer, removing your biology textbook from your locker before pushing the metal door shut. Sukuna hums, crossing his arms and tilting his head away from you.

He looks like he wants to say something, but is conflicted on whether or not he should actually say it. You study him for a second, opening your mouth to say something.

"There you both are! I'm ready to go home now," Yuuji says brightly, waving at both you and Sukuna from halfway down the hallway. He extends his hand to you, the both of you performing the handshake that you had perfected sometime during middle school. Sukuna rolls his eyes at the both of you, kicking off of the lockers and already swinging his keys on his index finger.

"Took you long enough," Sukuna comments with a harsh roll of his eyes, though you don't fail to notice the small smirk that tugs at the corner of Sukuna's mouth. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

Yuuji nods, linking his arm with your own and lightly tugging you towards the school's exit. He grins at you as you stumble on your feet, letting out a small "Yuuji!" at his antics. Sukuna only shakes his head, following behind the both of you – keeping his distance.

"So, (Y/N), anyone asked you to prom yet?" Yuuji asks, his voice loud enough for Sukuna to hear behind him. You stand rigid in your best friend's hold, eyes flickering to his own. "Surely a girl like you got asked, right? With a big bouquet of flowers and--"

"Yuuji, stop," you say harshly, voice venomous as you push yourself out of Yuuji's arms. He glances at you, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. He opens his mouth to say something, but you hold a hand up, effectively cutting him off.

"I'm not going to prom with anyone because the person I wanted to go with is interested in someone else, okay? Is that what you wanted to fucking hear?" You lift a hand to wipe at your suddenly teary eyes, sighing to yourself and shaking your head.

"(Y/N), that's not what I--"

"Forget it. I'm just gonna take the bus home," you murmur to yourself, turning and walking straight past Sukuna, not even turning to apologize when your shoulder knocks against his own. His eyes follow you, narrowed in both confusion and irritation. Even so, he makes no move to follow you …

… even though he so desperately wants to.

< … >

"I-it was so humiliating Nobara! Just … just imagine how disgusted he must be with me right now!" You throw your hands up as you continue pacing, talking through your tears as best that you can. Though it proves to be a struggle, you manage to get your point across and speak for long enough before you dissolve into tears again.

Nobara's eyes soften, gaze flickering momentarily to Maki, who only wears an expression similar to the former's. She stands, opening her arms to you. They lock around you as you all but fall into them, clawing at her back and pressing your face into her shoulder, crying quietly into the fabric of her shirt.

"He's not disgusted with you," Nobara begins, but you're quick to cut her off, only crying more. Her hand smooths up and down the length of your spine, her gaze once again flickering to Maki in the hopes that maybe she would say something … anything … to comfort you.

But just like Nobara, Maki is at a loss for words, sitting quietly on your bed and watching you promptly break down in the expanse of Nobara’s arms.

“He is! He has to be, c’mon, I totally just — just left him there!” The grip you have over Nobara’s shoulders tighten, holding her impossibly tighter as you try to comfort yourself in her arms. The attempt is futile, and in reality, it only makes you feel worse.

“I’m sure that he understands.”

“It’s Sukuna, Maki!” You pry yourself from Nobara’s arms, swallowing the growing lump in your throat and angrily swiping at the tears that cling to your waterline. You sigh, allowing your head to fall into the palms of your hands, nails digging into the sides of your head.

“Come on (Y/N),” Maki says gently, moving towards you and placing a hand on your shoulder. Her fingers squeeze at you comfortingly, a small smile curling her lips upward as you finally turn your head to make eye contact with her. “It’s a simple misunderstanding, I don’t think that Sukuna is going to automatically hate you because of it.”

You sigh shakily, allowing her to gently guide you to the edge of your bed. She pushes onto your shoulders, then sitting down beside you while Nobara sits in your desk chair — which she had pulled up to the side of the bed so that she could sit directly in front of you.

“Prom is tomorrow,” you murmur, sighing again a rubbing a hand down your face. Nobara and Maki exchange solemn looks, but neither of them say anything to one another. “And I just … maybe I shouldn’t go.”

Nobara immediately shakes her head, nearly stumbling from her seat from the force at which she leans back. Maki instinctively reaches for her, hands ready to brace the brunette if she were to fall.

“What?! After everything that we did? We got a dress, we went out and bought makeup, and we even rented a limo with everyone else!” Nobara says sharply, though her voice doesn’t hold any of the malice that you had expected it too. You knew what she was trying to do anyway, convince you by slightly guilting you into thinking that by you not being there, prom night would essentially be ruined.

You sniffle, rubbing a hand against your tear-stained cheeks. Maki reaches out, rubbing a hand against your back. Of course, she wants you to go to prom as well, but unlike Nobara, she wouldn’t sit there and guilt trip you into going. If you didn’t want to go, then it was as simple as that, you didn’t want to go.

“I-I know that, but Nobara—“

“Stop.” Nobara stands then, her hands on either side of your face and squishing your cheeks together. “We’re going to prom together, and that’s that. Got it?”

You sigh, blinking back the last bits of tears that cling to your lashes. And against your better judgement, even though you so desperately want to stay home all day tomorrow and rot …

… you nod against the skin of Nobara’s palms.

< … >

"(Y/N)! Guys!" Yuuji waves wildly from the front entrance of the school's gymnasium, lips turned upward in a wide grin as you, Nobara, and Maki approach. Standing beside Yuuji is Sukuna – who looks as though the only thing he craves at that moment is going home and vanishing for the weekend.

Uruame wasn't with him though … maybe she just hadn't arrived yet.

Nobara smiles as you all approach Yuuji, accepting his fist-bump. You turn to him as well, extending your hand at the same moment he does, the both of you performing that oh-so-elaborate handshake.

“You look nice,” Yuuji says to you, smiling. You return his smile, turning on your heel and marveling as your dress’ train lifts from the ground, creating a small circle around you as you turn. Yuuji turns then to Sukuna, whose eyes dart away as if he had been caught looking at something that he shouldn’t have been.

“Yeah … nice,” Sukuna murmurs underneath his breath. His comment brings a gentle pink hue to your cheeks, and in thanks, you nod your head at him.

“C’mon, let’s go inside!” Nobara says happily, her lips tuned upward in a smile as she reaches for your hands, tugging you towards the entrance of the gymnasium. You glance fleetingly at Sukuna, whose eyes are still fixed on anything but you — you wonder what color Uruame would wear.

Would she match him? Or would she wear a different color that complimented the one he wore?

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to reality as you allow Nobara to tug you towards the doors, her lips still turned upward in a delighted smile as she and Maki already begin nodding their heads in tune with the loud music that blares from inside of the gymnasium.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

You turn, eyebrows raised as you notice Sukuna looking at you, his body angled so that he faces you. His fingers twitch slightly, debating on whether or not they should reach out for you.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you? Jus’ for a second,” Sukuna responds gruffly, clearing his throat and hoping that the dimly lit sky was enough to hide the pink color that dusted his cheeks.

Nobara, Maki, and Yuuji all exchange knowing looks, their lips all turning upwards into Cheshire-cat-like smiles. None of them say a single word as they slip through the gymnasium’s open doors, leaving both you and Sukuna at the entrance.

“Everything okay?” you ask, tilting your head at Sukuna. He swallows, shoulders tensing and hands curling into white-knuckled fists. His nails, which had always been long, are no doubt leaving behind crescent-shaped marks on the skin of his palm — what the hell had him so nervous?

He hesitates, eyes flickering momentarily to you before they look away again. “Everything’s,” he clears his throat, “everything’s fine.”

You furrow your eyebrows together, not quite believing him. You lift your arms to cross them over your chest, shifting on your foot before finally noticing a tuft of white hair in the distance. You open your mouth to comment, but something stops you.

“So … where’s Uruame?” you settle for asking, glancing up at him and teasingly wiggling your eyebrows at him. He turns to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Uruame. You’re waiting out here for her aren’t you? Don’t tell me you’re gonna make her walk into prom all by herself,” you turn on your heel to chastise him, pointing a finger at his chest. The crease between his eyebrows only deepens as you continue — which you take as a sign to promptly shut up.

The two of you stand in awkward silence for a moment, both of you turned away from the other in fear of what expression the other wore.

“Uruame’s not comin’ to prom,” Sukuna murmurs with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “Said she wasn’t the biggest fan of parties, not that I blame ‘er.”

“Oh.”

Again, neither of you say anything to the other. You can feel your cheeks burning, and in the hopes that he wouldn’t say anything, you lift your hands to your face, covering it. He tilts his head, sighing with the smallest of smirks plastered onto his face.

“Lemme guess,” he turns to you, regaining his confidence and bending just enough so that his nose is level with your own. Your eyes widen, the pink color on your cheeks deepening at the sudden closeness. “You thought I was takin’ Uruame to prom, didn’t you?”

“N-no,” you reply quickly, your voice a high-pitched squeak. Sukuna chuckles, shifting back on his feet and crossing his arms over his chest, staring down his nose at you. “Okay, maybe.”

The taller man turns, leaning against the wall of the gymnasium and glancing at you through the corner of his eye. You shuffle on your feet, not daring to look up at Sukuna.

“That why you kept tellin’ Yuuji that you weren’t comin’ to prom?” he asks, grinning as he glances at you. “‘Cause you thought I was goin’ with Uruame?”

You remain silent — now suddenly embarrassed over your childlike reaction. To be honest, it had been petty for you to potentially throw away the entirety of your prom night over something as trivial as not having a date. But at the same time, your friends had been asked to prom by the people that they were romantically interested in — hell, even Yuuji had managed to successfully ask Megumi to prom. And that was after he had smacked himself in the face in front of his bathroom mirror.

Sukuna chuckles, leaning his head back and crossing his arms over his chest. His fingers drum against his clothed bicep, a delighted hum rumbling up somewhere in his throat as he relishes in your reactions. He clears his throat, catching your attention.

“Stupid,” he murmurs, reaching a hand out and laying it over the top of your head. You huff at him, smoothing your hands over your hair, hoping that all of the styling that you had done wasn’t ruined by Sukuna’s comically large palm.

“And that makes me stupid because?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at Sukuna. He rolls his eyes, once again leaning down to be at eye-level with you again. This time, however, you challenge his stare with one of your own — pointed and cold, though not nearly as cold as the glare situated in front of you.

“It makes you stupid because you actually thought I’d take someone other than you to prom.”

His words make you positively flush from head to toe. You stand as still as stone in front of him, inhaling sharply as he adjusts himself again. He offers his arm to you, nodding in the direction of the opened gymnasium doors.

“So then why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, sighing. “I’m not good at that kind of stuff, but trust me, you’re the only girl that I’d have ever even considered to take to this fuckin’ thing.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you slip your arm into Sukuna’s. His chest swells at the smile that you flash at him, and in a moment of bravery, he leans down to press his lips to your own.

Thank God that you had decided to go to prom.

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk angst #jjk fluff #modern sukuna

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theetherealbloom · 16 days ago

Text

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.2

Chapter Two: Hold On For Dear Love

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction, Kissing,

Word Count: 10.1k

A/N: Chat, I am giving the reader a super vague background, like it won't matter too much, lol. You’re here for the vibes, and so am I ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So this entire fic isn’t gonna be overly complicated, I don’t think this is the fic for that. I mean, they put sharks in the Colosseum, so… we’re going to take some liberties here and there for funsies. It’s fanfiction, it’s supposed to be fun :> ALSO YA’LL I GOT INTO A GROOVE. I wasn’t planning on updating til next week but the words kept coming to me and suddenly I’m done with chapter two hehe. AND YES YES SHUSH NEXT CHAPTER IS SMUT. MAYBE. Ok enjoy girlies heheh.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Hymn To Virgil by Hozier

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist |Main Masterlist|

SENATOR THRAEX’S PARTY — DAY

The grand villa was alive with music, laughter, and the heady scent of roasted meats and spilled wine. Senators, high-ranking officials, and Rome's wealthiest citizens mingled among trays of fruit and platters of delicacies, their voices filling the air with a cacophony of conversation and self-indulgent boasts. Courtesans draped in sheer silks wove through the throng, their laughter as light and false as the smiles of their patrons.

You stood to the side, partially hidden in the shadow of a marble column. The position offered a semblance of privacy while giving you a clear view of the room. You made mental notes of the faces present—senators, generals, and merchants, all drunk on wealth and power. Their alliances and rivalries played out in every guarded glance and overly polite toast.

Senator Gracchus approached you with a goblet of wine, his face etched with age but kind. “You look like a soldier observing a battlefield,” he remarked dryly.

You smiled faintly, accepting the drink. “It feels like one. Though I’m not sure which side I belong to.”

Gracchus chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “In Rome, one must always choose a side, my dear. Even if that choice is to appear invisible.”

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted. “Ah, the daughter of misfortune graces us with her presence.” Senator Thraex’s saccharine tone drew the attention of those nearby. He strode toward you, his beady eyes alight with thinly veiled mockery. “I was just telling Gracchus how tragic your loss must have been. Your poor parents—what a terrible end.”

Your jaw tightened, but you forced a polite smile. “Your concern is appreciated, Senator. They are at peace now.”

Thraex clasped his hands, feigning sympathy. “Still, such a pity. A young woman like you, left all alone in this cruel city. Surely by now, you should have found a husband to protect you from its dangers?”

The words stung, though you refused to let it show. Keeping your tone steady, you replied, “I fear my reputation for independence precedes me. Not all men wish to marry someone who refuses to play the meek lamb.”

Gracchus coughed into his goblet, poorly disguising a laugh, while Thraex’s smile faltered. “How... peculiar,” he said, his tone sharper now. “Though perhaps not surprising. It would be difficult to find a suitor for one so... outspoken.”

The room seemed to hum with energy as Thraex’s face, darkened with irritation from your earlier remark, shifted into a mask of forced hospitality when his gaze landed on a man entering the crowd—a towering figure wrapped in silk and jewels, his presence as commanding as it was enigmatic. You followed Thraex's movement as he moved to greet the man, a name rippling through your thoughts: Macrinus.

You had heard whispers of him before. A former gladiator who had fought for his freedom, now a powerbroker in Rome. He supplied food, wine, and oil for the empire’s armies, manufactured weapons, and even maintained a stable of gladiators. His name carried weight, his connections extending into the darkest corners of Roman politics.

As Thraex approached Macrinus, his false charm returned, his arms spreading wide. “Macrinus!” he greeted, his voice dripping with exaggerated warmth. He clapped the man on the shoulder with an enthusiasm that bordered on theatrical. “I knew the provinces could never contain you.”

Macrinus accepted the embrace with a faint smirk, his dark eyes scanning the room with calculated ease. “I’m just here for the games,” he replied, his tone casual, though there was a hint of something sharper beneath the surface.

Thraex chuckled, his grip lingering on the man’s shoulder. “Ah well, you won't be disappointed. Rome has all the games that men like you like to play.”

“Men like me, cracks men like us.” Macrinus shot back, his grin widening. “I know nothing happens in Rome unless you… tasted it first! ”

Thraex laughed at the jab, the sound too loud to be sincere. Their exchange continued, a dance of veiled threats and mutual amusement. You lingered at the edge of the room, doing your best to blend into the shadows, your ears straining to catch every word.

Thraex handed Macrinus a gilded chalice of wine, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “What's this we hear about you being interested in standing for an election to the senate practice?”

Macrinus stiffened, his surprise poorly concealed as he let out a dry chuckle. “Me? You know, I don't even know how to use an abacus,” He sipped his wine before adding with a wry smile, “but I do understand that… it's customary for your guests to make wagers at these affairs.”

Thraex’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his smile didn’t falter. “How large a sum did you have in mind?”

Macrinus tilted his head thoughtfully, the jewels around his neck catching the light. “A thousand gold aureus?”

Thraex’s lips curled into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Two,” he countered smoothly.

Macrinus glanced at the courtesan draped over his arm, as if seeking her approval. The woman gave a slight nod, and Macrinus shrugged, turning back to Thraex. “Denarius,” he said simply, the single word carrying enough weight to silence Thraex for a fleeting moment.

Macrinus walked away with an easy swagger, leaving Thraex standing alone with his forced smile slipping into a scowl. The flash of irritation on his face, so quickly concealed, didn’t escape your notice.

You couldn’t suppress a small smirk of your own as you turned your attention elsewhere. Rome’s elite might dress themselves in finery and smiles, but it was clear that every word exchanged tonight was a thread in the intricate tapestry of power. Threads you were determined to unravel.

The air in the grand hall shifted, thick with anticipation as the crowd clustered toward the edges of the room. The glint of opulence—golden goblets, silk-draped tables, and jewels adorning the guests—clashed against the dark reality of what was about to unfold. Your eyes lingered briefly on a figure across the way: a man, bound in chains, sitting quietly. There was no fear in his expression, only a smoldering anger that made you uneasy.

The sound of clapping drew your attention back to the center of the room. Senator Thraex, ever the showman, raised his voice above the murmur of the crowd. “Stand back! Stand back!” he called, his tone a mix of authority and delight.

You stepped aside, blending into the edges of the gathering, as the spectators parted to form a circle. The twin emperors, Caracalla and Geta, lounged decadently on their perch, surrounded by concubines who laughed and whispered among themselves. Their indifference to the gathering's undertones was maddening.

Thraex turned toward them with an exaggerated bow. “My emperors,” he began with a grin before addressing the audience. “Lords, ladies, senators—tonight, for your entertainment... the art of combat!”

Excited gasps rippled through the room, the revelers’ reactions equal parts anticipation and bloodlust. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Thraex gestured dramatically toward the two men brought forward—one was the same figure you’d seen earlier, still brooding but now standing tall.

“And now,” Thraex continued, “the barbarian, versus from my own stable, the mighty Vijay!”

The crowd erupted into applause as Vijay, a towering figure in a yellow tunic, was escorted forward. His opponent, the gladiator from across the room, now squared his shoulders and met Vijay’s gaze.

“It is your gladiator?” Emperor Geta asked, his tone laced with mild amusement, as he glanced at Macrinus.

Macrinus inclined his head respectfully. “It is, your Majesty.”

Chains were removed from both men, their freedom feeling more like a death sentence. Thraex began to set the terms. “Three rounds, hand-to-hand—”

But Emperor Caracalla’s voice cut through. “Swords!” he barked, his grin wicked.

The room fell silent.

“We want swords. A fight to the death!” Caracalla continued, his voice rising with glee. “No quarter to be offered, or given!”

Thraex hesitated, his expression faltering for a moment, but the guards stepped forward, placing swords into the gladiators’ hands. You felt your stomach twist as the two men began circling one another.

The gladiator of Macrinus spoke first, his voice calm but edged with pleading. “Brother, come now. Let us not kill each other for their amusement.”

Vijay’s only response was a roar as he lunged, his sword slicing through the air. The next moments were chaos. Blades clanged as they met, sparks flying from each blow. The room seemed to shrink around the violence as tables splintered and decorations toppled.

The climax came when Vijay’s sword slipped from his grasp in the scuffle. The other gladiator seized the opportunity, driving his blade into Vijay’s chest. A sharp gasp escaped you as the larger man crumpled to the marble floor, his blood pooling beneath him.

The victor tossed his sword to the ground with a clatter, breathing heavily, his face and tunic spattered with blood. Around you, the crowd erupted into applause and cheers, their delight in stark contrast to your quiet horror.

“Remarkable!” Emperor Geta exclaimed, standing as he clapped his hands. He approached Macrinus with an approving nod. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Macrinus replied smoothly.

Geta then turned to the gladiator, studying him with newfound interest. “From where do you hail?”

The man said nothing, his jaw set, his silence defiant.

The tension in the room grew thick. Even you found yourself leaning forward, curiosity mingling with unease.

“Speak,” Geta commanded sharply. When no answer came, his impatience boiled over. “I said speak!”

Macrinus stepped in quickly, bowing his head. “Your Majesty, he is from the colonies. His native tongue is all he understands.”

The gladiator finally raised his head, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “The gates of hell are open night and day; smooth the descent, and easy is the way: but to come back from hell, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.”

The poetry stunned you, the eloquence jarring against the brutal spectacle that had just unfolded. Around you, the room fell silent for a beat before Caracalla broke into a laugh.

“Poetry!” the Caracalla declared, grinning as he turned to Macrinus. “Very clever, Macrinus. Very clever indeed.”

Macrinus bowed slightly. “To amuse you is my only wish, your Majesty.”

“We are amused,” Geta said, though his gaze remained fixed on the gladiator. His voice rose as he addressed the room. “And we all look forward to seeing your poet… perform in the arena.”

“As do I your majesty's.” Macrinus gestured to his guard. “Viggo,” he said softly, and the guard stepped forward to escort the gladiator out of the room.

As the crowd began to disperse, murmurs of excitement rippling through the air, you remained rooted in place. Your eyes followed the blood trail left by Vijay’s body as it was dragged away. The victor—dripping in another man’s blood, yet unbowed—disappeared through the doors, his haunting words lingering in your mind like a ghost.

LUCILLA'S VILLA — LATE AFTERNOON

The villa of Domitia Lucilla stood as a serene contrast to the chaos of Rome—a sprawling sanctuary of pale stone walls and gardens heavy with the scent of roses and citrus. The late afternoon sun stretched shadows across the courtyard as you entered, the weariness from Senator Thraex’s debauched gathering weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Lucilla awaited you, standing poised near a column. Her cream stola shifted with the breeze, but her sharp gaze was unwavering, as if she had been expecting this moment.

“You’ve returned,” she said, warmth in her voice tempered by the gravity of her expression.

“I have, my lady—”

She waved off the formalities with a flick of her wrist. “Enough with that. How many times must I tell you?”

“Habit,” you replied with a faint smile, though it lacked its usual brightness.

Her lips twitched with amusement, but concern quickly took its place. “And how was Senator Thraex’s gathering? As intolerable as I feared?”

You sighed, the grotesque excess of the night flashing briefly in your mind. “More wine than wit. And blood, of course. Always blood.”

Lucilla’s mouth tightened, her brow furrowing just enough to betray her displeasure. She stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on your shoulder. “Rome devours itself with spectacle. It leaves nothing but emptiness behind,” she murmured.

You nodded but didn’t speak. The heaviness of her words settled heavily on you because they were true.

“And Thraex himself?” she pressed, tilting her head.

You hesitated. “He made his usual jabs about my… unmarried state. Feigned sympathy for my family. And spent an inordinate amount of time with Macrinus, the arms dealer. It seemed more calculated than casual.”

Lucilla’s eyes narrowed slightly, her mind already turning. “Macrinus does not waste his time on frivolities. If Thraex is courting him, there’s more at play.”

“Something to do with the games tomorrow, perhaps?” you suggested. “He seemed eager for them.”

Lucilla’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s possible. His ambitions are endless, and I fear his alliances will be the ruin of many.”

“Rome always finds a way to drag us into its mire,” you muttered bitterly.

Her hand on your shoulder tightened briefly, reassuring. “Then we tread carefully. But not tonight. Tonight, we focus on what lies ahead. The senators will convene soon, and General Acacius is to join us.”

You huffed a soft laugh, though it carried a trace of exasperation. “A grand gathering in his honor, and he doesn’t bother to attend the festivities.”

Lucilla arched a brow, her expression turning sly. “Were you hoping he would?”

Heat rushed to your face, and you fumbled for a response. “I—no, of course not. I just thought it odd.”

“Mm.” Her tone was noncommittal, but her knowing smile made you glance away.

Before you could dwell on your embarrassment, Lucilla turned down another garden path, leaving you to follow. It was there, amid the soft hum of cicadas and the golden haze of the late afternoon, that you saw him.

Marcus Acacius sat beneath a pergola, his broad shoulders bent slightly over a parchment, a quill poised in his hand. A goblet of wine sat forgotten beside him, the scene unexpectedly tranquil for a man of his reputation.

Lucilla glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. “It seems you’ll get your wish after all.”

Your stomach twisted at her words, but before you could form a protest, she disappeared around the corner. Left to your own devices, you took a steadying breath and approached. The crunch of gravel underfoot drew his attention, and he looked up, his dark eyes softening as they met yours.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t return,” he said, his voice low and warm, though a flicker of relief betrayed him.

You tilted your head, folding your arms as you came closer. “And I was beginning to think you’d forgotten the party was meant for you.”

Marcus chuckled, setting down his quill. “Crowded rooms filled with drunken senators and empty promises hold little appeal. I prefer the quiet.” He gestured to the bench across from him. “Join me?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the unspoken tension between you filling the air. But then you sat, folding your hands neatly in your lap.

“The games tomorrow will be particularly… extravagant,” you said, glancing at the parchment. “I’m to serve as a healer for the event.”

His brow furrowed. “You’ll be in the arena?”

“Not in it,” you replied quickly. “But close enough.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “It’s barbaric. They celebrate death, and you’re left to mend what’s left behind.”

“It’s Rome,” you said with a shrug, though the bitterness in your voice was unmistakable.

“Does it not anger you?” His voice was steady but insistent, his gaze searching yours.

You hesitated before answering. “Every day,” you admitted quietly. “But anger doesn’t heal. It doesn’t save lives.”

His hand moved, resting near yours on the table—not touching, but close enough that the space between felt charged. “You do more than heal,” he said after a moment. “You remind us of what’s worth saving.”

The sincerity in his words made your breath hitch. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“I only do what I can,” you said finally.

“And it’s enough,” he replied, his voice firm.

Silence settled between you, but it was not empty. It was heavy with questions left unasked, with the unshakable feeling that you knew him from somewhere beyond this life.

“You’re different,” he said suddenly.

You raised an eyebrow, half-amused. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”

He smiled faintly. “A truth.”

You studied him, the edges of recognition tugging at your mind. “Have we met before?”

His hand stilled, his expression unreadable. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s the way you look at me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like you know something I don’t.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, softly, “Perhaps I’m just trying to understand you.”

“And do you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze lingered on yours, as if he were searching for something—something hidden behind the words you didn’t say. His jaw tightened, and then relaxed, his hesitation drawing out the silence until it felt like the whole garden held its breath.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting an amber glow across the courtyard. The scent of citrus blossoms drifted through the air, mingling with the faint tang of oil from the bronze lamps. You and Marcus sat across from each other, the heavy quiet between you punctuated by the distant hum of the city below.

“I think,” he said finally, his voice low and measured, “that you’re not as much of a mystery as you’d like to believe.”

You said nothing, the truth of his words settling over you. He wasn’t the first to try to understand you, but he was the first whose attempt didn’t feel like an invasion. Still, you kept your silence, hoping it would shield whatever he thought he saw.

Marcus leaned back slightly, his gaze unwavering, though his tone softened. “You wear your defiance like armor. It suits you, but…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Even armor cracks under enough weight.”

Your chest tightened. There was no judgment in his voice, just quiet understanding, and that somehow made it worse. You turned your eyes to the horizon, watching as the light bled into dusk.

“And you?” you asked at last, your voice quiet, almost tentative. “What cracks your armor?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his jaw tightening as he looked away. For a long moment, you thought he might deflect or let the question fall unanswered. But then he sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly, the facade of the unshakable general slipping.

“The things I’ve done,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “The wars. The lives I’ve taken. I tell myself it was duty. For Rome. For honor. But when I close my eyes…” His hand curled into a fist on the table, the scarred knuckles white with tension. “I see their faces. The ones I killed. The ones I couldn’t save. Sometimes, I think that’s all there is left of me. Blood and ghosts.”

His words hung in the air, raw and unguarded. You felt the sharp sting of his pain as if it were your own, and it stirred something deep within you—a desire not to fix him, but to let him be broken without shame.

“There’s more to you than that,” you said softly, surprising even yourself with the conviction in your voice. “Let the brokenness be felt, Marcus, until you reach the other side. There is goodness in the heart of every broken man who comes right up to the edge of losing everything he has.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those fierce, commanding eyes—betrayed a flicker of something fragile. “And if the edge is all that’s left?”

You shook your head. “Then you find your way back. One step, one breath, one choice at a time. You’ve already come this far.”

A faint, wry smile tugged at his lips. “You sound certain.”

“I am,” you said simply. “Because I’ve seen it before. I’ve seen men lose everything and still find the strength to rebuild. You’ve endured so much, Marcus. And yet, here you are.”

His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the air between you felt impossibly heavy, as though the weight of both your pasts had settled there. But then, something shifted—just a fraction—and the tension eased.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, leaning forward. “How does someone like you—someone who speaks of goodness and second chances—end up in a place like this?”

You let out a soft laugh, though it held no humor. “A long story,” you said, your tone laced with irony.

He smiled faintly. “I’ve got time.”

The simplicity of his statement caught you off guard. You studied him for a moment, searching for any trace of mockery, but found none. He was patient, steady, like a man who had weathered every storm and learned to endure the waiting.

You hesitated, then began to speak—not all at once, but in fragments. You told him of the choices that had brought you here, the moments of defiance and loss that had shaped you. He listened without interrupting, his focus unbroken, as though each word mattered.

When the story faltered and the silence crept back in, Marcus spoke again, his voice gentle. “You’ve carried much on your shoulders.”

You shrugged, your gaze fixed on the table. “Haven’t we all?”

He nodded, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Perhaps. But not everyone carries it as well as you.”

The compliment startled you, and you looked up to find him watching you with something like admiration. It wasn’t romantic, not yet—but it was real, and it unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite name.

“You don’t know me well enough to say that,” you said, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

“Not yet,” he agreed. “But I’d like to.”

Something in his tone—a quiet sincerity, unadorned by pretense—made you pause. You realized, with a small jolt, that you wanted to know him, too. Not just the general, but the man beneath the armor.

“Maybe,” you said finally, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “If you’re patient.”

His smile widened, just a little, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I’ve learned to be patient,” he said. “For the right things.”

And as the night deepened and the stars began to dot the sky, you found yourself wondering if, perhaps, this was one of them.

The room was dark, the faint glow of torchlight from the grilled window casting long, flickering shadows on the walls. Lucilla stood beside you, her sharp eyes trained on the guards below as they exchanged shifts. She watched silently, her body tense but still, until the last of them disappeared around the corner.

With a soft sigh, she turned back into the room and extinguished the candles one by one. The light died away, replaced by the cover of darkness. Outside, a guard’s voice called up, noting that she must be retiring for the evening.

You remained quiet, holding the lamp as Lucilla adjusted her robes and pulled up the hood, the fabric obscuring her features. The air felt heavier now, laden with unspoken tension. She glanced at you, her gaze sharp even in the dim light.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice a low murmur.

You nodded and pulled your own hood over your head. The warmth of the lamp in your hand was a small comfort against the chill of the night.

Lucilla stepped closer, her hands gripping your forearm briefly as she said your name. “You must know,” she said, her voice quiet but firm, “if you do this with us, there is a possibility that we may be discovered. And the penalties—”

“I’m aware,” you interrupted gently, meeting her gaze. There was no hesitation in your voice.

She studied you for a moment longer, then nodded, a faint flicker of respect passing over her features. Without another word, she turned toward a small shrine tucked into the corner of the room.

Kneeling, she rolled back a slab of marble with deliberate care, revealing a narrow passage that led downward. The air that seeped out was cool and damp, smelling faintly of earth and stone.

Lucilla motioned for you to follow, and you descended after her, the spiral staircase winding tightly into the depths. Your lamp cast shifting shadows on the walls, and the faint echoes of your footsteps seemed louder than they should have been.

The tunnel at the bottom was carved with care, though the stone showed its age. Lucilla moved through it with practiced ease, her robes brushing against the walls as the passage widened and opened into a massive underground catacomb.

You stopped short, your breath catching at the sight. The vaulted ceilings arched high above you, their grandeur almost otherworldly. This place was built for eternity, every detail a testament to early Roman splendor. Statues of gods and long-dead ancestors stood sentinel, their marble faces solemn in the lamplight.

Lucilla’s steps slowed as she approached a series of crypts. Each one was marked with the bust of a family member, their likenesses carved into the stone. She stopped before the bust of Marcus Aurelius, her father, and laid a hand on its smooth surface.

“Father,” she whispered, her voice tinged with both reverence and sorrow, “protect us and guide us.” Her fingers lingered for a moment before she turned away, her expression unreadable.

You wanted to say something, to break the silence, but the words escaped you. There was a sacredness here that felt unshakable, a weight you couldn’t quite explain.

ANTECHAMBER — MINUTES LATER

The air in the antechamber felt thick, like the weight of centuries pressed down upon you all. Torches lined the stone walls, their flickering light casting wavering shadows on faces lined with tension and purpose. The damp chill of the underground space only added to the solemnity of the moment.

Lucilla moved forward with practiced grace, her head held high despite the gravity of the meeting. The first man stepped into the torchlight, his wiry frame and sharp features softened only by the faint trace of a smile.

“Gracchus,” Lucilla said warmly, extending her hands. “Old friend.”

Gracchus clasped her hands briefly, his grip conveying both respect and concern. “My lady. I wish we were meeting in better times.”

Lucilla’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The sun shone once—it will shine again.”

Gracchus raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking into a sardonic smirk. “And what in heaven’s name does that mean?”

Before Lucilla could answer, a low, resonant voice emerged from the shadows. “It means hope, Gracchus.”

You started slightly, your heart skipping as a figure stepped forward. Marcus Acacius. The flickering light caught the edges of his armor, making it gleam like liquid fire. His presence filled the room effortlessly, his broad frame and steady gaze commanding attention.

Gracchus let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh yes. He is shiny.”

Marcus didn’t react to the jest, but his eyes flicked between Lucilla and Gracchus before settling briefly on you. His gaze held for a beat too long, making your pulse quicken.

“Did I startle you?” he asked, his tone smooth but edged with faint amusement.

You straightened, tightening your grip on the lamp you carried. “Not at all,” you said, though your voice betrayed you.

The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips, but he turned his attention back to Gracchus, his expression growing serious. “We want to take back the city. To restore Rome to what it should be.”

Gracchus’s expression darkened, doubt creeping into his voice. “An exciting venture. When?”

“On the final day of the games,” Marcus replied firmly.

Gracchus raised a skeptical brow. “How?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the tension clear as he measured his words. “My army waits for my command at Ostia. Five thousand soldiers loyal to me will enter Rome. I intend to arrest our emperors in front of the crowds at the Colosseum for their crimes against the Senate and the people.”

A long, heavy silence followed. Gracchus exchanged a wary glance with Thraex, who stood silently in the background. The two senators appeared burdened with years of cynicism, the spark of belief long extinguished.

Lucilla broke the quiet, her voice sharp and resolute. “We cannot continue to see Rome damaged, sliding further into corruption and decay.”

Thraex snorted softly, folding his arms. “Does he want to be Emperor?”

Marcus’s gaze sharpened as he shook his head. “I am a soldier, not a politician. Rome will be yours to administer and—”

Gracchus interrupted him, his tone cutting. “Your father spoke of returning power to the Senate. But that was a generation ago. Much has changed. The people haven’t seen hope for years, and—”

This time, Marcus’s voice rose slightly, his frustration bleeding through. “Rome is not yet ready to be a republic, but with time—and guidance—a vote by the people, for the people, would mean—”

Lucilla placed a steady hand on Marcus’s arm, quieting him. She turned to Gracchus, her voice calmer but no less determined. “Rome can live again. Do we have your support, Gracchus?”

Gracchus hesitated, his gaze shifting to you, then back to Marcus. Finally, he nodded slowly, his voice soft. “Lucilla, you are the daughter of Marcus Aurelius. He had my loyalty, and so do you.”

Lucilla allowed herself a small smile. “A political answer, but good enough. Senator Thraex?”

Thraex hesitated, his eyes flickering to you. He seemed to brace himself before speaking. “Politics follows power, my lady. Take back what is rightfully yours, and the Senate will support you.”

The room seemed to exhale as the senators gave their tentative agreement, but Gracchus’s gaze lingered on you. His voice softened. “I vowed to your parents I would take care of you. To give you a life beyond this... chaos.”

Your grip on the lamp tightened as you met his gaze, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your chest. “There is no point in life if the future of Rome is nothing but an abuse of power and position.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Marcus’s expression shift. His gaze rested on you, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he were seeing you in a new light.

The torches flickered, their flames casting light on faces filled with determination and shadows that hinted at the dangerous road ahead. You glanced at Marcus once more, and his eyes caught yours, a faint, unspoken understanding passing between you.

THE COLOSSEUM — DAY

The air around the Colosseum is alive with a chaotic energy that hums through the sprawling crowd. The great amphitheater towers above, its shadow sprawling across the dusty streets. Vendors shout over one another, selling honeyed dates, roasted nuts, and cheap wine. Children dart between the throngs, their quick fingers snatching at coin purses while wide-eyed newcomers marvel at the spectacle before them.

As you approach the towering Capitoline Arch, your eyes lift to the imposing statue of General Marcus Acacius atop a marble plinth. The sunlight gleams off the bronze plaque beneath, bearing the inscription: ACACIUS, VICTOR AFRICAE.

You pause, a faint sigh escaping your lips as you take it in. The statue is majestic, carved with precision to capture his strength and valor, but there’s something about its stillness, its perfection, that feels wrong. The man you’ve come to know is far more complicated than the warrior immortalized in marble.

Pulling your hood closer to shield yourself from prying eyes, you make your way toward the entrance of the Colosseum.

Outside the massive arena, the crowd is dense, funneling into the arched entrances like water forced through narrow channels. The scent of sweat, baked bread, and dust clings to the air.

A wagon lumbers past, its wheels creaking as it pulls into the rear gates of the Colosseum. The iron gates groan shut behind it with a finality that makes you shiver.

Your eyes catch on one of the gladiators stepping down from the wagon. He is broad-shouldered, with a grim expression and scars that tell stories of survival. Recognition flickers in your mind—he was at Senator Thraex’s gathering, one of Macrinus’ men.

For a moment, his gaze meets yours, sharp and searching. You quickly turn away, the weight of his stare lingering like a brand on your skin.

COLOSSEUM UNDERCROFT — DAY

The undercroft is a world unto itself, hidden beneath the grandeur of the arena above. The air here is damp and stale, filled with the mingled scents of blood, sweat, and the earthy musk of the animals kept for the games. Torches line the stone walls, their flames barely cutting through the heavy gloom.

You step carefully, the hem of your robe brushing against the uneven stones beneath your feet. Around you, the sounds of preparation echo—metallic clangs of swords being sharpened, the low murmur of prayers whispered by gladiators, and the distant roar of the crowd above, a constant reminder of what waits beyond.

A sudden shout breaks through the noise, and you flinch instinctively, your hand tightening around the lamp you carry.

“Keep moving!” A guard barks, shoving a gladiator forward.

You press yourself against the wall to let them pass, your eyes following the line of chained men as they march toward their fate. The air feels heavier here, thick with despair and the metallic tang of blood that never quite fades from the stone.

The main chamber opens ahead, a cavernous space carved from the bedrock, with a stone memorial spanning two centuries etched into one of the walls. The names carved there seem endless, a testament to the lives given—or taken—beneath this roof.

You step into the room, your eyes searching for Ravi, the healer who has been your closest ally in this grim underworld. He is leaning over a battered table, his thick canvas coat bristling with the tools of his trade—scalpels, needles, and small bottles of tinctures.

Ravi glances up as you approach, his dark eyes meeting yours. He nods, his expression weary but kind. “You’re late,” he says, his tone more teasing than reproachful.

“I was delayed,” you reply, setting the lamp down on the edge of the table.

Ravi straightens, his hands covered in the telltale stains of his work. “Delayed by a statue, no doubt,” he says with a smirk, nodding toward the hallway you came from.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Not just the statue. The entire crowd outside could rival an army.”

He chuckles softly, but his humor fades as his gaze shifts to the tools laid out before him. “It’s a mad world out there. And in here. They’ll call it glory, but we know better, don’t we?”

You nod, your fingers brushing against one of the bottles of tincture on the table. “How many today?”

“Too many,” Ravi replies grimly. “It always is. But if we don’t patch them up, they’ll be thrown back into the arena like lambs to the slaughter.”

You glance toward the memorial wall, the endless names a stark reminder of what happens when healing is no longer enough. “And yet they cheer,” you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

Ravi follows your gaze, his expression hardening. “They cheer because they’re too far away to hear the screams. From up there, it’s just a show.”

A heavy silence falls between you, the weight of his words settling in the space like a tangible presence.

Finally, Ravi breaks it, his voice quieter now. “You could have been anywhere. A villa in the hills, a proper clinic, somewhere far from all of this. Why here?”

You meet his gaze, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “Because someone has to be.”

Before Ravi can respond, the distant blare of a cornu horn echoes through the chamber, its mournful call summoning the combatants to the arena.

Ravi exhales, shaking his head. “That’s our cue.”

You nod, grabbing the lamp and turning toward the corridor. “Let’s hope today isn’t worse than the last.”

Ravi follows, his canvas coat swaying as he moves. “Hope’s in short supply here,” he mutters. But then, as if to lighten the mood, he adds, “But if anyone can keep these bastards alive, it’s us.”

A faint smile pulls at your lips as the two of you head toward the chaos waiting above. The sound of the horn grows louder, blending with the roar of the crowd—a noise as relentless as the tide.

The roar of the Colosseum was muffled slightly where you and Ravi stood in the shadow of the lower arches, but the sight above was impossible to ignore. Caracalla and Geta had already taken their places in the royal seats, their expressions imperious yet lacking true command. The crowd’s response to their arrival was lukewarm, tepid applause barely rippling through the masses.

Ravi glanced at you, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They can’t even fake enthusiasm for their own Emperors. Telling, isn’t it?”

You nodded grimly, shifting your gaze to the arena floor where the fight’s Master of Ceremonies stood, clearly tense. He gestured sharply to the musicians, prompting them to play a fanfare in a desperate attempt to rouse the audience.

Through the giant copper horn mounted on a stand, his voice bellowed, “Citizens of Rome! These sacred games are held to honor the victory of Rome over the barbarians of Numidia—”

You winced at the crude remark, the words cutting through the air with their arrogance.

“And to honor Rome's legionary commander, General Justus Acacius!”

At the mention of Acacius, your eyes instinctively sought him out. There he was, emerging in white and gold, a gleaming figure against the harsh backdrop of the Colosseum. His presence was magnetic, commanding without effort. He moved with the same purpose he always did, though you could sense a tension in his posture, a reluctance masked by the pageantry.

Lucilla followed close behind him, her chin lifted with practiced grace. When the Master of Ceremonies announced her name—“Lucilla, the daughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius!”—the crowd erupted into thunderous applause, a stark contrast to their earlier indifference.

Beside you, Ravi let out a low whistle. “They still adore her.”

“They always will,” you murmured, watching as she ascended to the royal seats under the guise of honor, though you knew better. The two Centurions flanking her were not mere escorts but guards, a subtle display of control that would escape the average onlooker.

From this distance, it seemed she embraced the accolades, her every gesture perfectly measured. But you caught the slight flicker in her expression when she glanced toward Acacius.

“You honor us with your presence. Speak to the plebeians, Acacius,” Geta commanded, his tone laced with condescension.

You held your breath, sensing the reluctance in Marcus’s stillness. He exchanged a look with Lucilla, brief but telling, before his gaze swept across the crowd, searching. When his eyes found yours, something in his demeanor shifted—resolve, perhaps, or a need for grounding.

Finally, he rose, stepping to the railing as the crowd quieted, anticipation thick in the air. His voice, deep and steady, carried over the expanse with ease.

“I am not an orator, nor a politician,” he began, the simplicity of his words a sharp contrast to the pomp surrounding him. “I am only a soldier. Real heroism is not the stuff of games.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, confusion and intrigue mingling as Acacius’s words sank in.

“It reveals itself to us only in the service of life itself,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “I have seen bravery in men during war, and from women, too—bravery that does not falter in the face of fear but rises to meet it. And even, once, in this arena.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words pressing against you. Though his gaze never left the crowd, you felt as though those words were for you alone.

“If you pray,” Marcus’s voice deepened, his tone almost pleading, “pray that the gods will deliver us bravery like that. Because Rome needs it now.”

The silence that followed was profound, the kind that held more weight than applause. Then, slowly, the crowd erupted, their cheers cascading through the Colosseum like a wave.

You watched him step back from the railing, his expression inscrutable as he returned to his seat. But as the applause thundered on, his eyes found yours again, and in that brief moment, you saw it—something unspoken yet unmistakable.

Ravi nudged you gently, breaking the spell. “He’s good, I’ll give him that.”

You nodded, your heart still pounding. “Better than they deserve,” you said softly, though your thoughts were far from the Emperors.

The tension in the Colosseum was recognized as the opening ceremony came to an end. Caracalla and Geta clapped from their royal seats, their applause mechanical and devoid of genuine enthusiasm. Below, the Master of Ceremonies stood nervously, his voice amplified by the great copper horn.

“From the South Gate... fighters from the stable of Macrinus of Thysdrus!”

Your gaze darted to the southern entrance, where the gladiators emerged into the blinding sunlight. You recognized one of them—Hanno of Numidia—whose name Ravi had told you earlier. The crowd greeted them with scattered boos and jeers, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the arena itself.

Hanno walked with measured steps, his expression stoic as he led the small group to the center of the arena. His shoulders bore the weight of more than just the armor; you could see it in his eyes.

“And from the stables of our Emperors Caracalla and Geta themselves: Glyceo the Destroyer!”

The eastern gates creaked open, revealing a towering figure clad in ornate armor, seated atop a great white rhino. The crowd erupted in frenzied cheers, the noise reverberating through the stone walls. The rhino trotted with surprising agility, its hooves kicking up clouds of dust as it carried Glyceo with the ease of a seasoned warrior.

From your vantage point, you saw the glint of weapons strapped to the rhino’s side—an axe, a sword, a mace, and a bola. Glyceo reached for the mace, gripping its heavy handle with a confidence born from countless victories.

The first gladiator dared to challenge the beast, stepping forward with his sword raised. He attempted to dodge the rhino’s charge at the last moment, but the creature’s speed and precision were unmatched. The horn struck him with brutal force, sending him flying across the arena before the rhino finished him off with a savage thrust.

Your stomach churned as the body was tossed aside like a ragdoll. The crowd’s cheers only grew louder.

Hanno stood still, his gaze fixed on the carnage. Then, almost imperceptibly, he crouched and scooped a handful of sand from the arena floor, letting it sift through his fingers. The gesture was hauntingly familiar—a ritual Maximus had performed before every fight.

Beside you, Ravi murmured, “Do you see that? He remembers.”

You glanced at Lucilla in the royal box, noting the flicker of something in her expression—recognition, perhaps, or sorrow. But she quickly masked it, her face hardening as she turned back to the arena.

The rhino charged again, this time with Glyceo’s mace raised high. Hanno sidestepped at the last possible moment, but the rhino’s horn clipped him, sending him sprawling. Dust clouded the air as the beast wheeled around, disoriented by the sunlight.

Hanno was quick to act. He flung the remaining sand into the air, creating a bright, blinding curtain that obscured his movements. The rhino charged again, unable to see clearly, and slammed full force into the arena wall. Glyceo was thrown like a ragdoll, his body hitting the stone with a sickening thud.

The rhino staggered, its massive frame reeling as it struggled to regain its footing. Hanno retrieved his sword and advanced on Glyceo, who was already scrambling to his feet. Their blades met in a clash of steel, sparks flying as Glyceo’s superior strength began to overwhelm Hanno.

You leaned forward, gripping the stone railing as Glyceo delivered a brutal series of blows, forcing Hanno to his knees. The crowd chanted, their bloodlust palpable.

Lucilla gasped, turning away, her hand trembling as it gripped the edge of her seat. Even Macrinus, who had been watching with a calculating gaze, shook his head slightly.

Glyceo raised his short sword, poised to deliver the final blow. He paused, turning to the royal box for approval.

“Shall we spare his life, brother?” Geta asked, his tone mockingly casual.

Caracalla shrugged, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “I wouldn’t mind seeing some blood.”

Geta ignored him, his attention shifting to Lucilla. “Lucilla, shall we show mercy?”

Lucilla hesitated, her voice trembling. “Mercy.” The word was barely audible, choked with guilt and something deeper.

Geta stood, raising his fist. The crowd fell silent, holding their breath as he slowly extended his thumb upward, granting Hanno his life. The Colosseum erupted in cheers, but the celebration was short-lived.

“No,” Hanno said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

The crowd stilled, murmurs of confusion rippling through the stands.

“No mercy,” he repeated, his tone resolute.

Geta’s face twisted in disbelief. “Gladiator, we have spared your life. No one refuses—”

“I will not accept mercy,” Hanno interrupted, rising to his feet despite the blood dripping from his wounds. He turned to the royal box, his gaze unwavering. “I would sooner face your blade than accept Roman mercy.”

The crowd erupted in chaos��laughter, jeers, and shouts of encouragement mingling in a cacophony of sound.

“Fight on, then, fool, and die,” Geta spat, his face reddening with embarrassment.

Glyceo lunged, his mace swinging in a wide arc. Hanno ducked, his movements fueled by desperation and fury. With a final burst of strength, he seized his fallen short sword and drove it into Glyceo’s abdomen. The mighty gladiator staggered, his expression one of shock before he collapsed, lifeless, into the sand.

The crowd roared its approval, chanting Hanno’s name as he stood victorious. From the royal box, Macrinus smiled, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. You couldn’t help but watch Hanno with a mixture of awe and apprehension, your heart pounding as the weight of the moment settled over the arena.

COLOSSEUM HOSPITAL ROOM — NIGHT

The dim light of flickering oil lamps cast wavering shadows on the rough stone walls of the makeshift infirmary. The smell of blood, sweat, and burnt herbs clung to the air like a heavy shroud. Ravi moved methodically among the injured, tending to other gladiators with a calm, steady hand.

You were left alone with Hanno. He sat on a wooden stool, his posture tense despite the exhaustion etched into his features. A deep, jagged wound marred his upper arm, the torn flesh angry and raw. Mosquitoes buzzed around him, drawn to the scent of blood and sweat.

You crouched beside him, your hands deftly inspecting the wound. “This needs to be cleaned and stitched up,” you murmured, glancing up at him briefly. His eyes met yours, dark and unreadable.

He broke the silence. “What’s your name?”

You paused, meeting his gaze again as you answered, giving your name. You nodded toward the other side of the room. “That man over there is Ravi. We’re both doctors—or as close to it as you’ll get here. More men die of infected wounds than in the arena itself.”

Hanno tilted his head slightly, watching you as you prepared the tools of your trade. “This is going to hurt,” you added, your tone both matter-of-fact and soft.

You handed him a small pipe, its carved edges worn smooth from use.

“What’s this?” he asked, examining it with mild suspicion.

“Devil’s breath and opium,” you explained. “For the pain. Breathe it in.”

Hanno hesitated for only a moment before placing the pipe between his lips. He inhaled deeply, his expression neutral as the sharp, bitter taste hit his tongue. Slowly, his eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing steadied.

“The effects are different for us all,” you said gently, noting the way his features softened, the tension in his shoulders easing.

When his eyes opened again, they were hazy, unfocused. “Your voice…” he muttered, blinking at you as if trying to place something familiar.

“What about it?” you asked with a small smile, distracting him as you began cleaning the wound.

“It’s… nice,” he replied, his words slow and slightly slurred. “Kind.”

You gave a soft chuckle, focusing on the task at hand. “Don’t get used to it. This part isn’t going to feel so kind.”

He took another draw of the pipe just as you began stitching the torn flesh with catgut. The needle pierced his skin, and he hissed through clenched teeth, coughing as a puff of opium-laden smoke escaped his lips and drifted into the air between you.

“Where’d you learn your trade?” he asked, his voice rough but steady.

You kept your focus on the stitches, your hands moving with practiced precision. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve got a light hand,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You glanced up briefly, the corners of your lips quirking. “You don’t strike me as someone who hands out compliments easily.”

The faint flicker of the oil lamp threw warm shadows across the stone walls of the infirmary. The low hum of muffled groans and whispered prayers filled the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood and herbs. His dark eyes, hazy from the drug, remained fixed on you as you worked.

“I don’t,” he murmured, his voice soft and slow. “But I’ve had enough wounds stitched up to know the difference between butchery and care.”

The corners of your lips quirked upward, and a soft chuckle escaped you. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” he said, his tone unusually earnest.

Your laugh echoed softly in the quiet room, and his lips curved in response. Hanno was inebriated now—high on the devil’s breath and opium. He looked at you, his gaze almost childlike in its wonder, as if the haze had stripped away some of the weight he carried.

“What we do in life echoes in eternity,” you said suddenly, your voice a mix of reverence and melancholy.

The words hung in the air, timeless and heavy. You paused, your fingers stilling over the bandage.

Hanno blinked, as if chasing a memory. “I feel I know those words…”

You smiled faintly, your eyes meeting his. “I can’t take credit for them. They’re written on a tomb here, over the bones of a gladiator.”

He let the words sink in, his gaze distant but thoughtful. You returned to your work, your hands moving with practiced precision as you tied off the final stitch and smoothed the bandage over his wound.

“There,” you said, leaning back to admire your handiwork. “I think that should hold.”

Hanno’s eyes drifted to his arm. He reached out, almost absently, and ran his fingers across the crude stitches. His touch was featherlight, as if testing the reality of it.

You stood, gathering your tools and reaching for the pipe still clutched in his hand. But before you could take it, he brought it to his lips again, inhaling deeply. The motion was slow and deliberate, his dark eyes fixed on you through the curling smoke.

You paused, watching him, but said nothing. After a moment, you gave a small nod and turned back to pack away the rest of your supplies.

“Why did you let me take another hit?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer now, as if the opium was tugging him toward vulnerability.

You glanced over your shoulder, your expression unreadable. “Because sometimes, we need the pain to go quiet for a while.”

Hanno held your gaze for a long moment, his lips curving into a faint, lopsided smile. “You understand more than most,” he said quietly.

You didn’t respond, but the weight of his words lingered. As you turned back to your work, his voice broke the silence again, softer this time.

He said your name a tender echo in the quiet room. “Do you believe it?”

“Believe what?” you asked, not turning around.

“That what we do in life echoes in eternity.”

You stilled, your hands tightening slightly around your tools. Finally, you turned to face him, your expression thoughtful. “I think… the choices we make, the lives we touch—they ripple outward. Whether it’s eternity or just a fleeting moment, I think it matters.”

Hanno’s gaze didn’t waver, even through the haze of the drug. “You matter,” he said, his voice low but steady.

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you could only stare at him. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t teasing. He meant it.

Your throat tightened, but you forced a small smile. “Rest now, Hanno. You’ll need your strength.”

He didn’t protest, but his eyes lingered on you as you turned away, your heart inexplicably heavier and lighter all at once.

LUCILLA’S VILLA – EVENING

The villa shimmered under the moonlight, its alabaster walls soaking in the silver glow. Marble columns cast long shadows across the flagstones, and the air hummed with the gentle chorus of cicadas. Somewhere in the gardens, the delicate aroma of night-blooming jasmine mingled with the faint tang of the sea breeze.

You stood at the edge of the terrace, a delicate glass of spiced wine cradled between your fingers. The cool air kissed your skin, but it couldn’t chase away the heat simmering beneath—an ache born of exhaustion, frustration, and something you dared not name. The day had unraveled like a tragedy, the gods watching with cruel amusement as you struggled to hold it together.

Behind you, the sound of soft footfalls broke the stillness.

“You stand there as though the weight of Rome rests on your shoulders,” a voice drawled, smooth and familiar.

You turned, finding Lucilla leaning against the stone archway, her golden hair catching the light of the lanterns flickering nearby. She regarded you with a mixture of curiosity and knowing—Lucilla had a way of reading people like scrolls, unrolling their secrets with unnerving ease.

“Does it not?” you replied, attempting a wry smile, though it faltered before it could fully form.

Lucilla stepped closer, her movements fluid, regal. “Rome’s weight has crushed stronger people than us,” she said softly, joining you at the balustrade. “The key is learning when to carry it—and when to set it down.”

You scoffed, swirling the wine in your glass. “And how often do you set it down?”

Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Far less than I should.” She glanced at you from the corner of her eye. “But I’m not the one standing out here, staring at the stars as though they hold the answers.”

The faint humor in her tone was a lifeline, grounding you. “If the stars do have answers, they’re not sharing them with me,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Lucilla’s expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand lightly on your arm. “The answers aren’t in the stars,” she said. “They’re in here.” She tapped lightly against your chest, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve already carried so much. Don’t forget you’re allowed to put it down—just for a while.”

Her words settled over you like a balm, and for a moment, the tension in your chest eased. You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of distant laughter interrupted, drawing both your gazes toward the villa’s golden glow.

Lucilla sighed, stepping back. “The night calls,” she said, her tone laced with resignation. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Lucilla,” you replied, watching as she disappeared into the shadows of the villa, her presence leaving an unspoken promise of strength in its wake.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing off the night’s hum. You exhaled, leaning against the wood, letting the day’s exhaustion seep into your bones. But the solace was short-lived.

“Finally,” a low, gravelly voice murmured from the shadows.

You startled, your hand flying to your chest. “Marcus!” you hissed, your heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped forward, his broad frame illuminated by the flickering lantern light. His tunic was slightly disheveled, and his dark curls fell across his brow, softening the hard planes of his face. Yet his eyes—those piercing eyes—held a fire that made it impossible to look away.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “Not tonight.”

You crossed your arms, more to steady yourself than to rebuff him. “And you thought sneaking into my quarters was the solution?”

Marcus’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been on my mind all evening,” he said simply, the weight of his confession hanging between you. “Do you know how maddening it is? Seeing you, hearing you, but never being close enough?”

Your breath caught, and you shook your head, trying to keep your composure. “Marcus, this—whatever this is—it's dangerous. You know that.”

“Danger is nothing new to me,” he said, stepping closer. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself rooted in place as he closed the distance between you.

“Marcus…” you began, but your voice faltered as his fingers brushed against yours, tentative and fleeting.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I will. But if you don’t—”

The unspoken promise in his words sent a shiver racing down your spine. You opened your mouth to protest, but instead, you found yourself tilting your face toward his touch as his hand cupped your cheek.

“I’ve seen you fight for others, care for them,” he said softly, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw. “Let me fight for you. Let me care for you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, unbidden and unwelcome. “You don’t understand what you’re asking,” you said, your voice trembling.

“I do,” he countered, his forehead nearly touching yours. “And I’m asking anyway.”

His breath was warm against your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance, your mouth meeting his in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and surrender.

The world fell away in that moment, the chaos and the danger replaced by the warmth of his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that left you breathless.

You pulled back, your chest heaving, your hands clutching the fabric of his tunic. “This doesn’t make the world any less dangerous,” you said, your voice barely audible.

“No,” he agreed, his gaze locked on yours. “But I’d burn the world to ash just to feel the heat of you.”

His words sent a shiver through you, a dangerous mix of devotion and desire. And as he kissed you again, softer this time, you realized that perhaps the fire he promised wasn’t something to fear—but something you’d already been consumed by.

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lovegalor333 · 2 months ago

Text

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

safe house pt 2 (previous part) (next part)

summary: read previous part, this is a direct continuation.

content warnings: domestic violence

You wake up in your best friends bed, last night still fresh in your mind. It plagued your dreams, waking you up out of your sleep multiple times, heart racing in a panic until you realised you were nowhere near your boyfriend, you were safe. For now.

Nightmares were a regular occurrence for you, especially after his outbursts. You would dream of him choking you and you’d wake up gasping for air and he’d be sleeping soundly as if nothing was wrong.

You spent a lot of nights staring up at the ceiling not daring to even breathe too loud incase you woke him and you would wonder if this is what your life was destined to be like forever. Would you always live in fear? It felt like it. It felt like there was no way out and he had told you as much.

“You’ll never leave.”

“You couldn’t survive without me.”

“You need me.”

“Without me, you’re nothing.”

“You’re mine. I own you.”

“The day you leave me will be your last.”

He’d spoken these words for so long you believed them. You believed you needed him. You believed you couldn’t survive without him. You believed he owned you. And you especially believed that the day you left him would be your last. He had a short fuse, he was violent and unpredictable and one too many times you thought you wouldn’t survive his beatings.

You’ve been victim to multiple black eyes and busted lips over the most insignificant things. One time it was because you had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day. Another time it was because his team had lost a match. Bruises covered your body constantly and in the worst instance, you had suffered a broken nose. That time, you didn’t leave the apartment for weeks just to avoid the barrage of questions that you wouldn’t be able to answer truthfully.

Allie was no longer laid beside you like she was last night when you fell asleep, you wasn’t sure how long she’d been up, she must have been very careful not to wake you and you were grateful for the extra sleep.

You slip out of bed and catch your reflection in the mirror and you audibly gasp, “Shit.”

The bruising around your eye had developed overnight, it was a deep shade of red and extremely swollen. You traced your fingers over it gently and winced at the pain it caused. The split on your lip had dried over and a scab had begun to form, it hurt to open your mouth and you knew it would sting like a bitch when it came to eating and drinking. The hand marks around your neck had deepened too, they were more prominent today and you swallowed hard, remembering the feeling of the air be squeezed out of you. Your ribs hurt with every intake of breath and after lifting your shirt, you could see why. Your torso was littered with bruises and scuffs caused by your boyfriends foot.

You knew deep down leaving the apartment last night was the right thing to do, for your own safety but you also knew it will have made your situation today worse. You had to go back, there was nowhere else to go. It was your home, all of your things were there but you knew he’d be waiting, as soon as you stepped foot back inside and he wouldn’t be happy.

You could hear Allie and her roommates in the living room, they were talking in hushed voices but you could still make out your name when it was spoken.

You pressed your ear up against the door in an attempt to listen.

“I’ve known Y/N a long time. She won’t leave him. You think I haven’t tried before?” That was Allie.

“Obviously not hard enough, Allie. She’s being beaten black and blue.” That was Paige and her voice was raised several octaves higher, she sounded angry and you flinched at her tone.

“OK, calm down. Let’s just speak to her and see what she wants to do.” Jana tried to reason with the girls.

“No. Seeing what she wants to do isn’t an option. She’s brainwashed by him, not to mention scared out of her mind. Of course she’s not going to want to leave him but I’m not letting this go on for any longer. I told her last night was the last time he’d hurt her and I meant it.” Paige says quieter this time but she still sounded angry.

Last night was the first time Paige had seen you after one of your boyfriends outbursts and you hadn’t expected it to evoke this kind of reaction. Most people didn’t know what to say, they’d just ignore it. It was like the elephant in the room.

You’re crying now as you listen to the girls talk about you, you felt bad that you had dragged them into your mess.

“She can’t stay there anymore.” That was Paige again.

“That’s her apartment, she has nowhere else to go.” That was Allie.

“She’ll stay here until we figure it out.” Paige, again.

You appreciated what Paige was saying but ultimately, Allie was right. You weren’t going to leave your boyfriend, you couldn’t.

You dried you tears quickly and readied yourself to face the girls. Your hand shook as you opened Allies door and you took a deep breath as you stepped out. Everyones eyes immediately fell on you and you felt like a deer in headlights. Allie looked at you sympathetically while Jana, who hadn’t seen you last night, looked shocked at your injuries and Paige had a deep frown set on her face and it looked like she was about to cry.

“Thank you for letting me stay but I should be getting home.” You tried your best not let your voice falter but it came out in a shaky croak you cursed yourself for sounding so weak.

Paige looked at Allie, silently saying stop her but Allie just raised her brows in response as if to say what can I do?

“I don’t think you should go home.” Paige brakes the silence and stands from the couch.

“I have to.” You murmur.

“You don’t.” Allies also standing now.

“I do, you don’t get it. None of you get it.” You snap and run your fingers through your hair in frustration.

“No, we don’t, but we can’t let you go back there. You’re not safe.” Paige responds, walking over to where you’re stood and she reaches out to touch you or hug you, you’re not sure but you jump back at her advance.

“I’m sorry.” She mutters, letting her hand fall back down to her side.

You shake your head, “I have to go.”

“Y/N, please don’t.” Paige pleads and the tears that have been threatening to fall finally do and you’re sobbing in your friend’s living room, not knowing what to do.

Allie calms you down and her and Paige continue to beg you not to return to your apartment. They say you can stay with them for as long as you like and you allow yourself to dreams of days not poisoned by your abuser.

“All my stuff is there.” You whisper after a while. If you were really going to do this, if you were really going to leave him, it wouldn’t be easy.

You wasn’t sure what scared you more, going back and being at his mercy or trying to leave and him doing everything in his power to not allow you.

“We can help you do that. Ayanna and KK are coming over, we can go and get your stuff.” Paige tells you and you shake your head, “I’m coming with you.” You say, your boyfriend was unpredictable on a good day, you were not about to put Paige or Ayanna or KK in his firing line.

Ayanna and KK arrived shortly after and you sat awkwardly as Paige explained the situation, you felt like a victim, weak and frail and you hated that but the girls met you with nothing but love and support and you thanked them continuously as you drove to your apartment. You were really about to do this.

“I should go in first.” You say as the four of you stood outside of your front door. Music blasted from the other side so you knew your boyfriend was home.

“We’re coming in.” Ayanna states and your hand shakes as you push the key in the lock and turn it, opening the door.

“Just pack your stuff and we’ll get you out of here.” Paige whispers into your ear, she’s behind you and her hand comes to the small of your back and you flinch at the unexpected touch, you keep doing that but you can’t help it, you’re so used to violent hands, it’s all you expect now.

The apartment was not how you left it, in the few hours you’d been gone, it had been trashed. Dirty laundry was thrown onto the floor, dinner plates from last night had been smashed, pizza boxes lay discarded on the table, beer bottles too. This was expected, but what hurt the most was seeing your personal items destroyed, a frame that held a picture of you and your sister had been shattered, shards of glass everywhere, multiple items of your clothing looked as though Edward Scissorhands himself had got at them and your favourite books had the pages ripped out of them and thrown across the room.

You look back at the girls with tears in your eyes, trying to gauge their reactions and their faces say it all, “He’s a freak.” KK mutters picking up your cut up clothes.

You take cautionary steps to your bedroom knowing he’s in there.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He spits, he was laid on the bed but quickly got up when he saw you.

“I stayed at a friends.” You gulp as he steps closer to you, so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“What friend?” He pushes, his hand coming up to grip your jaw, “And don’t lie.” He snarled bringing his face directly up to yours.

“A-Allie.” You stutter out and try to wriggle away from him but that only makes his grip tighten before he shoves you away from him making you stumble back into the living room. Paige is by your side in a heartbeat and you watch your boyfriends face contort into a scowl and his eye twitches in anger, “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m helping Y/N get her stuff. You’re not hurting her anymore.” Paige asserts, moving herself to stand in front of you. You’re completely shielded by her tall, muscular frame and you were so used to seeing your boyfriend as big and intimidating in comparison to you but Paige made him seem nothing short of ordinary. At 6’0, she stood at the same height as him and her biceps bulged in her tight t-shirt making his look like nothing special.

He laughed a deep sinister laugh but you knew he found nothing funny and his eyes grew dark as he stepped towards Paige but she didn’t move one bit, she stood her ground, “Get your stuff, Y/N.” She says turning to you but you’re frozen in place, scared to move.

Your boyfriend notices KK and Ayanna and he scoffs, “What are these, your fucking bodyguards?”

You don’t reply so he lunges at you but not before Paige can pull you behind her again, “Back up bro.” She hissed holding her hands out to keep him away.

“Get your stuff.” Paige says again turning to you and pointing to your room and this time you move with conviction. You weren’t alone now, you were getting out of here.

KK helped you stuff what was left of your clothes into a suitcase. You collected your belongings from around the room, your stuffed animal, makeup, books, your laptop, packing them all into various bags. Your movements were rushed and frantic and your attention was on the repeated smashing and crashing sounds coming from the living room and kitchen.

“That’s everything.” You say to KK, zipping up your case and she nods, picking up multiple bags in each hand while you wheeled the suitcase behind her.

In the living room, every surface had been wiped clear of whatever stood there before, a vase was shattered on the floor, the coffee table had been flipped and a lamp laid in pieces on the rug.

Your boyfriend was fuming and he couldn’t get to you so he was destroying anything and everything he could get his hands on. You thank God that he hadn’t touched Paige or Ayanna, they just stood watching him have a complete meltdown.

“Ready?” Paige asks seeing you with all your possessions packed and you nod, not able to string together even a simple sentence. Your hands were clammy and your heart was beating so fast you could hear it. You never thought this day would come.

“You’ve lost your mind if you think you’re going anywhere.” Your boyfriend booms at you.

You walked to the door with hurried steps and he reaches out to grab you but you dodge his grasp, something you’ve been afraid to do for so long but you’re not afraid anymore, you’re determined. Determined to leave, determined to survive this relationship that’s been nothing short of hell on earth.

“Y/N if you leave, you’ll regret it. I’ll make you regret it!” He threatened, picking up a beer bottle and hurling it in your direction. You feel it brush past your ear before it smashes on the ground in front of you and you yelp at the sound as tiny shards of glass crunch under your steps.

“Get her out of here.” Paige instructs her friends, opening the front door ushering you all out but you stop on the threshold, “Come on, Paige.” You urged, not wanting to leave her alone in the apartment.

“Give me a minute.” Her words are softer and calmer when they’re directed at you. You don’t want to leave her but KK and Ayanna don’t give you much choice as they guide you away from the apartment that was filled with some of the worst memories you have.

You stay in the hall, the door to the apartment still open and you hear everything Paige says.

“Y/N is never coming back here. You’re never going to put your hands on her again. You’ve hurt her for long enough and it stops now. You won’t make her regret anything and if I hear that you go anywhere near her, you’ll regret it. Do you hear?” Her voice is strong and dominant and you hold your breath waiting for his response but there is none. “Do you fucking hear?” He must nod because Paige mumbled a good before joining you in the hall, closing the door behind her and you let out the breath you had been holding in.

Paige has the picture of your sister and you in her hands and she passes it to you with a small smile, “Thought you might want this.” She says and you thank her holding the picture close to your chest, such a small action meant more than she’ll ever know.

“It’s done, Y/N. You’re out of there and you never have to go back.” Paige says closing the trunk of her car after filling it with your bags.

KK and Ayanna are already sat inside, “Thank you.” you whisper looking up to Paige, her big blue eyes sharing down at you, “Can I touch you?” She asks tentatively and you nod. You want to say please but stop yourself.

And for the first time, you don’t flinch or recoil at Paiges touch, as her arms wrap around you protectively, you melt into her and just allow yourself to be held.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: sorry this took so long, ive been so busy but thank you for all the requests for a part 2! i hope this does it justice 💋🫂

#paige bueckers #oneshot #paige x reader #uconn wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers imagine #fanfic #wlw #lgbtq #blurb #lovegalor333

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girliism · 4 months ago

Text

senior year was all you and your best friends art and patrick dreamed out. but since you’re threesome became a twosome senior was not what you dreamed.

art spent the first month ignoring you and patrick which was hard given you all had the same classes. patrick was trying to pretend it didn’t hurt him as much as it did but you can only pretend for so long.

the two of you were at his house doing homework. patrick sitting on his bed and you in his squeaky desk chair. “can please stop squeaking.” patrick said very annoyed. you stop your movement. “sorry” you mumble. patrick sighs upset at himself for his outburst. “i didn’t burst at you tennis just sucked today.” you spin around in your chair and crawl onto the bed to take place in his lap. “what happened?” you question pushing your forehead against his. “art traded me for someone else to double with.” art and patrick have been double partners since forever. they never switched not even when patrick kissed art when they were 12 and art punced him in the face and didn’t talk to him for weeks.

you were getting sick of the silent treatment. you missed your best friend you missed art. you missed being with the both of them.

“ok class, today i don’t feel like teaching you so we’re gonna play dodgeball. girls to the left boys to the right.” dodgeball was supposed to be banned in school for promoting violence but your gym teacher could care less. “have we as a society been pushed so far back that you must still separate us by gender in game used as an excuse to be violent.” some girl in class complained. your gym teacher got in her face. “either get to the left or fail my class. now remember nothing below the waist and nothing above the neck.” his whistle rang throughout the gym, and your body moved faster than your mind immediately picking up the ball and chucking it at arts face. “oh my god.” you rush over to him. “what the fuck?” art’s holding his bleeding nose. “what did i just say! jesus someone get this kid to the nurse.” “i’ll do it.”

the two of you walk side by side to the nurse in complete silence.

“you’re our third dodgeball incident this week. hold this i’ll be back.” the nurse leaves. the ticking from the clock cuts through the silence. “so um, how was your summer? is your grandma doing better?” you speak first. “it was fine and my grandma’s fine too. she asked about you and pat.” art’s voice was muffled by the tissue he held on her face. “what did you tell her.” art cocked his head up at you. “that the two of you ripped my heart out and stomped on it.” he said sarcastically. the two of you. art realized this summer that’s his feeling about you and patrick were a lot more complicated. maybe he wasn’t completely upset that you guys were sneaking around maybe it was the fact you guys were doing it without him.

you kicked art in his shin. “ow! will you please stop hurting me.” he lightly kicked you back. “will you please stop being so annoying about this or does a nearly lifelong friendship mean nothing to you?” art wants to forgive you guys it kills him inside, watching the two of laughing and hanging out when it’s usely the three of you. “i’m not ready for that yet.” the nurse walks back in. you and art just staring at each lips saying nothing but eyes saying so much.

“boyfriend.” you smile walking out of your house to patrick’s car. “girlfriend. you ready.” patrick hooks his arm around your neck placing a kiss on your cheek. it was senior ditch day and something you guys always wanted to do for senior ditch day was to go paintballing.

“you guys get an hour in the arena if you run out of paint balloons there’s extra room on the side.” the worker instructed us. “room for one more?” a voice says behind you. “art.” you and patrick say in unison surprised but happy to see he came. picking up on the weird tension the worker added. “also no sex in the arena.” the three of you share a look before heading in.

it’s been five minutes and no one has moved. each seated behind their own pillar waiting for the other to move. “will someone please throw a balloon.” you huff. “i’ll go first. art why don’t you stop being such a jealous pussy.” patrick chucked a ballon at art hitting his arm with paint. “why couldn’t you keep it in your pants.” art threw a ballon back hitting patrick leg. “why can’t we just have a fun time.” it’s your turn to throw ballons at them. “not until he admits that he’s jealous.” patrick steps out into the open. “what the hell would i have to be jealous of.” art steps out too. the two standing face to face. you peak your head up to watch the interaction. “i’m glad you traded doubles partners with me, now i don’t have to do all the work.” patrick stares at art. “only cause you can’t breathe without all the attention being on you.” art smashes a ballon right in the middle of patrick’s chest. “you little shit.” patrick tackles art.

patrick and art roll around on the ground fighting like children. “maybe if you weren’t so scared of your own feelings you would be with us instead of moping around like a lost puppy.” patrick says rolling on top of art pinning him down. art knees him in the back cause patrick to fall over. “fuck you, you don’t know anything.” sick of the both of them fighting you come out from your hiding spot. “would the two of you shut up.” one of them accidentally knocks you in the ankle causing you to fall on top joining in on the rolling. “and what about you huh kissing both of us and making everything confused.” patrick accuses, elbow digging into your side. “don’t blame this on me. it not my fault i want both of you.” the three of you stop rolling and lay on your backs looking up at the sky.

“what does that mean.” art ask even though he knew exactly what it meant. “means she wants to date both of us. freak.” patrick says adding the last part jokingly. you punch his arm. “but you can’t date two people just because you can’t make up your mind.” you groan coving your face. “that not what i meant.” you whisper. the implication of your words float through the air. “oh. i mean i wouldn’t mind you know dating both of you.” patrick understood first cause he too has thought about it. this was all too much for art. “you guys are insane.” art stands up staring down at you and patrick still on the ground. “why are we the insane ones? what’s insane is still after all these years you ignore what you feel for me.” patrick scoffs getting up to confront art. art feels like he can’t breathe and he breaks down crying. “shut up. i don’t have feelings for you i-i can’t.” you and patrick pull him in for a hug letting him cry out everything he’s been bottling up since middle school. “it’s ok art.” you whisper squeezing him tight. “my dad would kill me.” art speaks. “we’ll take care of you.” patrick says. the three up you stand there for a while just hugging before going to get milkshakes.

it took a while for art to get comfortable with the whole throuple thing. you guys told yours and patrick’s parents but were waiting tell you were in college to tell art’s parents though his mom had a feeling. “it’s so good to see the three of you together again.” arts mom set a plate of cookies in front of you guys before leaving you to eat them. she turned around suddenly remembering she had to tell art to call his grandma later but stopped when she saw how the three of you huddled together. your arm looped lightly with arts and how patrick ruffled his hair letting his hand linger longer than normal.

days blended into months and before you know it you and art were pack his car up to drive to stanford for early set up. “you know it’s not to late to join us pat.” you say wrapping you arms around his waist. “yeah i’m sure your dad has contacts there he could get you in easily.” art adds slamming the truck shut coming up to hug you from behind sandwiching you in between them. “as tempting as that sounds i fear life on the road to the pro tennis league is calling me.” you and art pout breaking away from him. “you’ll come visit us right.” patrick looks offended you’d even ask. “my two favorite people in one place together, i’m gonna be there every weekend.” patrick places soft kisses on yours and arts lips before pulls you guys into a hug. “call me when you get there.” you tell him ok getting in the passenger seat and art in the drives as you ride off sticking your hands out the window to waving until your out of sight.

maybe adulthood won’t be so bad now.

(and that is the end. the throuple continues to live happy and healthy forever ☺️.)

#girliism #challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #challengers au #boy bsf!artrick

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realhotgirlshitah · 2 months ago

Note

Can I request an Ethan x fem Best friend reader where he has like a massive borderline obsessive crush on reader and gets all possessive when she goes on a date and it leads to Dom!Ethan smut??

It can be GF ethan too if you’re into that but if you’re not that’s totally ok(ik some writers dont like to include the canon typical violence for ethan) so either way It will be amazing.

Silent Devotion 🎀

Ethan Landry x female best friend

warnings: nothing too crazy but it’s… filthy! slight degradation and praise, ethan is ofc unhinged as fuck.

FAWK I NEED HIM SO BAD LOOK AT HIM? FUCKING LOOK AT HOW SEXY MY PSYCHO BOYFRIEND IS RAHHHH 🦅

Ethan never really understood why you befriended him.

You, of all people. Gorgeous, popular, confident, and seemingly perfect in every way. It made no sense, not to him, at least. From the first time you spoke to him, something in him shifted. Being Chad’s roommate, he was used to being in the background, overshadowed by the guy everyone wanted to talk to. So, when you tapped him on the shoulder after class one day, he thought he was dreaming.

“Did you understand any of that?” you asked, flashing him that smile he’d been too scared to admit he’d been staring at for weeks.

“I uh—yeah, yeah, I think so,” he stammered, tripping over his own eagerness. “I mean, it’s a bit tough, but I get it,” he corrected himself, trying not to sound like a complete idiot.

You just smiled wider, like you knew exactly what was going on in his head. And that smile? It was enough to send his mind spiraling. He couldn’t stop staring—at your lips, your eyes, the way your laugh sounded like music. You were breathtaking.

“Ethan, right? I see you around with Chad a lot,” you said, tilting your head, clearly amused by his nervous energy.

“Yeah, Chad’s my roommate,” he muttered, wincing internally. He fully expected you to start asking about Chad, like everyone else. Instead, you laughed, brushing off the mention of his roommate like it didn’t matter.

“I don’t know how you live with him. He’s so loud all the time. I’d have already lost my mind. Mindy, though? She’s chill as hell.”

You weren’t interested in Chad. You were talking to him. Ethan felt his heart beat faster. He didn’t even care that he was fumbling for words. You were right there, smiling at him, making him feel seen for once in his life.

“Wanna hang out later?” you asked, leaning in slightly, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I could use a friend in this class who isn’t a total condescending asshole.”

Ethan blinked, certain he’d misheard. “Wait—really?” he stammered, barely able to believe his luck.

From that moment, his world changed. It wasn’t just hanging out anymore. You became everything to him. It started small, just study sessions and casual conversations between classes. But the more time he spent with you, the deeper his feelings grew. Obsessed wasn’t even the right word. You were all he could think about. He’d lie awake at night replaying every moment with you, every laugh, every touch, every time you smiled at him like he mattered.

He needed you.

It became suffocating—the way he craved you. You were all he saw, all he wanted. When you laughed at his jokes, he imagined what it would be like to make you laugh while pressed against his chest. When you clung to his arm during horror movies, he fantasized about what it would be like to have you cling to him in the dark, whimpering in ways that had nothing to do with fear.

You became an obsession, and no matter how much he tried to play it cool, it consumed him. The moments you two shared, the simple times you were alone together, only fueled his desires. He’d find himself sitting next to you, watching a movie or talking about nothing important, but his mind was always on one thing: you.

One particular night, it was movie night with the group—Chad, Mindy, Sam, Tara, and you. Horror movies. You hated them, couldn’t even handle a single jump scare, which was exactly why you were practically glued to Ethan’s side.

As the movie started, you cuddled up to him, your arms wrapped around his, your head resting on his shoulder. His whole body tensed when you pressed closer. You smelled incredible, like vanilla and something sweet, something he couldn’t quite place but made him want to bury his face in your hair and never leave. Every time the movie startled you, you would grip him tighter, little whimpers escaping your lips as you buried your face into his arm.

Ethan could barely focus on the screen. His attention was all on you—on how soft your skin felt, how tiny your shorts were, leaving so much of your smooth, warm thighs exposed. His eyes kept drifting down to your legs, imagining how they would feel wrapped around him. The way your boobs were pushed up in that tiny cami top drove him insane. His heart pounded as he pictured his hands slipping beneath that fabric, making you squirm beneath his touch.

Then, there was the sound of your whimpers—those little noises you made every time the movie made you jump. Each one sent a jolt through him, tightening his grip on the pillow he held. All he could think about was how much he wanted to make you whimper for him, to make you moan his name, to hear those sounds when it was just the two of you, when his hands were on your body, not the blanket draped over you.

He couldn’t focus on the movie at all. His eyes kept wandering to your lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. His mind raced with thoughts of pulling you closer, of leaning down and finally making his move. He wanted to be the one to make you feel good, to be the one you ran to, not just because of some stupid movie, but because you wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

Each little touch you gave him, each soft laugh, each teasing comment only pulled him deeper. You were his best friend, but god, all he could think about was what it would be like if you were more. If you belonged to him.

By the end of the night, as you lay practically on top of him, sound asleep after the final movie, Ethan’s mind was a whirlwind. He gently moved a strand of hair from your face, his heart pounding in his chest, barely breathing as he looked down at you. His mind was filled with fantasies of kissing you, touching you, making you his. It was overwhelming. He needed you so badly it hurt.

It’s late afternoon as you and Ethan leave your econ class, falling into step beside each other as usual. The conversation is easy, the kind that flows naturally between best friends. But as Ethan walks next to you, all he can think about is asking you to hang out later. He needs to see you again. He always does.

“So,” Ethan starts, glancing at you with that familiar softness in his eyes, “Wanna come by tonight? We can watch a movie or something. Chad’s out, so it’ll just be us.” His tone is casual, but inside, he’s dying for you to say yes. His dorm is right across from yours, so there’s no reason it shouldn’t happen, right?

But then, you shake your head, lips curving into a little smile that makes his heart sink before you even speak.

“Actually, I can’t tonight,” you say, your voice a little hesitant. “This guy asked me out, so I’m supposed to be going on a date.”

The word “date” hits Ethan like a punch to the gut. His stomach churns, and his vision tunnels for a moment. He forces a smile, though it feels strained. He can’t let you see how much this is affecting him. Not now.

“Oh… cool,” he says, trying to sound indifferent, but the edge in his voice betrays him. He clenches his fist in his pocket, forcing himself to stay calm. “Who’s the guy?” he asks, keeping his tone light, despite the way his insides twist.

You smile, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Oh, you probably don’t know him. His name’s Ryan, he’s in one of my psych classes. He’s pretty cute, tall, plays lacrosse. We’ve chatted a bit.”

Ethan forces a laugh, but his mind is racing. Tall. Cute. Lacrosse? He fights the urge to scoff, his jaw tightening as he glances at you. “Yeah? Sounds like a real charmer,” he says, trying to keep his voice neutral. He doesn’t want to scare you off by showing how much the thought of you with someone else makes his skin crawl.

You don’t notice the shift in his tone, too caught up in talking about this guy. “He seems nice enough. It’s just a casual thing, we’ll see how it goes,” you add with a shrug, completely unaware of the way Ethan’s nails are digging into his palm.

He doesn’t say much after that, barely able to focus on the conversation as you both part ways for the evening. The image of you going on a date with someone else consumes him, filling his mind with dark thoughts. Every minute that passes, he’s thinking of you—wondering what you’re doing with this Ryan guy, imagining him touching you, making you laugh, maybe even kissing you. It makes his blood boil. He tries to distract himself, but it’s no use. His mind always comes back to you.

Later that night , his phone buzzes. It’s a text from you.

“Hey, wanna come over? My date bailed, and I’m bored. Let’s watch that movie?”

Ethan’s heart leaps in his chest. He doesn’t even think twice. Within minutes, he’s out the door, practically running across the hall to your dorm. His pulse races, and he’s already imagining the two of you alone together—just like he wanted from the start. He knocks on your door, and when you open it, the sight of you makes his breath catch.

You’re wearing those tiny pajama shorts that drive him insane, the ones that barely cover your thighs, and a little tank top that shows off your curves. His eyes can’t help but linger on the way the fabric clings to your body. You don’t seem bothered by the fact that your date didn’t show up—if anything, you seem relaxed, unbothered.

“Hey,” you say with a smile, hopping up to sit on the kitchen island, your legs swinging playfully. “Come in, movie’s ready. What took you so long?” you tease, completely unaware of the storm raging inside him.

Ethan steps inside, trying to keep his cool, but all he can think about is how perfect you look tonight. He’s wearing his usual loose pajama pants and a fitted shirt that highlights the muscle he’s been working on lately. The silver chain you got him for his birthday hangs around his neck, catching the light. He sees the way your eyes flick over him, how you seem to take in the shape of his body, the way his shirt clings to his broad shoulders. And even though you’re sitting on the counter, he still towers over you as he steps closer.

“So, what happened to Mr. Lacrosse?” he asks, his voice low as he moves in, standing right in front of you now. His proximity is deliberate, the tension thickening with every second that passes.

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “He never showed up. His loss, right?” you say, clearly not too broken up about it.

“Yeah, his loss,” Ethan echoes, but internally, he’s thrilled. He’s glad the guy blew it. More time for him. More time with you.

He leans against the counter, and the conversation flows as it always does—banter, jokes, easy laughs—but tonight, something feels different. The air between you is charged. Every laugh, every teasing comment is laced with an underlying heat that neither of you can ignore.

You shift slightly on the counter, crossing one leg over the other, which only draws Ethan’s attention to your bare legs. His eyes drift down to the hem of your shorts, his pulse quickening as he imagines running his hands over your skin. You catch him staring and smirk, but instead of calling him out, you tease him.

“Something on your mind, Ethan?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you’ve caught him off guard.

He meets your eyes, and for a second, the playful banter fades. His gaze darkens as he steps closer, standing between your legs now, so close that you can feel the heat of his body. The sexual tension is thick, electric, buzzing between the two of you like a live wire. His eyes drop to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze, and the air around you seems to shift, the playful teasing giving way to something heavier, something undeniable.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, his voice deeper now, rougher, as he leans in just a fraction closer. He can’t help it—his hands are itching to touch you, to close the distance between you, to finally cross that line that’s been blurring for weeks. You’ve always been the center of his universe, but tonight, standing here with you like this, the desire is nearly unbearable.

You tilt your head, looking up at him with those wide, curious eyes. The way your lips part ever so slightly has his mind racing with fantasies. He wants to kiss you, wants to make you moan, wants to claim you in ways he’s only dared to dream about. You don’t pull away, and that small fact ignites a fire in him that he’s barely keeping under control.

As you lean back slightly, letting your fingers brush against Ethan’s chest in a casual, teasing way, you notice how he tenses under your touch, his jaw tightening. There’s a shift in his demeanor, something primal flickering behind those soft brown eyes that you’ve never seen before. You’re used to him being sweet, dorky, even shy sometimes—but this? This is new. You smirk up at him, fully aware of the effect you’re having on him.

“You sure there’s nothing on your mind?” you ask, voice light but dripping with innuendo. You run your fingers down the chain hanging around his neck, playing with it for a moment, before letting them drift lower, barely grazing his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Ethan’s eyes darken even more, his patience hanging by a thread. You can see the internal battle playing out on his face, the tension building to a breaking point. His gaze drops to your lips again, and this time, he doesn’t pull back.

“Keep pushing, and you’re gonna find out,” he mutters, voice thick with desire, low enough that it sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes, like he’s weighing the consequences, but there’s no hesitation anymore—just pure want.

You don’t even have time to respond before he snaps. In a blur of motion, his hands are on you, one sliding around the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist as he pulls you toward him with a sudden, heated intensity. His lips crash into yours, catching you completely off guard, but before you can even process it, a soft, involuntary whimper escapes your throat. The sound flips a switch in Ethan that he didn’t even know existed.

You cling to him, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens, the heat between you building faster than you expected. His hands are everywhere—gripping, tugging, pulling you impossibly closer as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second. The kiss is desperate, heated, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever, and now that it’s here, he’s determined to make every second count.

Without breaking the kiss, he picks you up effortlessly, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he hoists you up, making you gasp in surprise. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively as he carries you toward your bedroom, navigating the space with ease, his lips never leaving yours. The way he holds you—like you weigh nothing—sends a thrill through you, making your pulse race even faster.

Ethan pushes open the door to your room with his shoulder, kicking it shut behind him before gently tossing you onto the bed. You bounce slightly, breathless and wide-eyed as you look up at him. For a second, he just stands there, staring down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. His gaze rakes over your body, drinking you in with a mix of disbelief and hunger, like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

You smirk up at him, teasing even now. “You gonna stand there and stare all night, or…?”

His eyes flash with frustration, a growl rumbling low in his throat as he moves toward you. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me,” he mutters, his voice rough and ragged. He climbs onto the bed, caging you in beneath him, his body hovering over yours. His hands trace along your sides, just light enough to make you squirm.

“You always have to be in control, don’t you?” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as his lips graze your neck. “Always teasing, always pushing.”

You shiver under his touch, but before you can respond, his lips are on your neck, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down to your collarbone. His hands grip your waist, his touch firm but teasing, not giving you nearly enough pressure to satisfy the heat building inside you. It’s maddening, and he knows it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Ethan whispers, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your shoulder, sending chills down your spine. “How bad I’ve wanted you…”

His hands slide up to your hips, tugging at the waistband of your tiny shorts just enough to tease you, but not enough to give you what you want. You arch your back slightly, biting your lip as a soft whine escapes you.

“Ethan…” you breathe, the frustration starting to build in your voice as you shift beneath him, trying to get more contact, more anything.

He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Oh, now you’re the one begging?” he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your shorts. “What happened to all that confidence, huh?”

You whimper again, the sound more desperate this time, and it’s all the encouragement he needs. His hands move quickly now, sliding your shorts down with ease, and his eyes darken even further as he takes you in, fully exposed and vulnerable beneath him. The look on his face—hunger, disbelief, pure desire—sends a wave of heat through you, making you squirm beneath him.

Without another word, Ethan moves lower, his hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself between your legs. He hesitates for only a second, just long enough to shoot you a wicked grin.

Ethan pauses for a moment, his eyes locked on yours as he hovers between your legs. There’s a glint of something darker in his gaze now, his lips parted slightly as he takes in the sight of you laid out before him. The anticipation is palpable, thickening the air around you both. He runs his hands slowly up your thighs, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends sparks shooting through your body, making you tremble beneath him.

His gaze flickers upward to meet yours again, and the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away. He leans in, kissing the inside of your thigh—soft, teasing—his lips barely brushing your skin as he moves closer to your core. You can feel his hot breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot, the heat of his mouth almost unbearable. Your breath hitches, and your hips shift unconsciously, desperate for more.

Ethan grins, clearly enjoying how worked up you are, the control he has over your body now. “You look so fucking good like this,” he mutters, his voice rough, almost reverent. “I’ve thought about this so many times… but this? You’re even better than I imagined.”

His words send a jolt of desire through you, but before you can respond, he lowers himself fully, his mouth finally connecting with your heated skin. The first slow drag of his tongue across your folds sends a shockwave of pleasure through you, making your entire body tense and then melt into the bed beneath you. It’s overwhelming—the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the gentle but deliberate pressure of his tongue moving against you.

You gasp, your hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft curls as you instinctively push him closer. Ethan groans at the contact, the vibration reverberating through your core and making you cry out. He’s not just doing this for you—he’s savoring every moment of it, completely lost in the taste and feel of you.

Ethan’s movements start slow and measured, each flick of his tongue precise and intentional. He’s exploring, learning what makes you gasp, what makes your legs shake, what has you tugging at his hair in desperation. But as he gains confidence, his pace quickens, his enthusiasm growing with each of your moans, every little sound you make driving him to give you more.

He circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, applying just enough pressure to make you see stars, before he pulls away, only to suck it gently between his lips. The sensation has you bucking your hips against him, the friction almost too much to handle. Ethan tightens his grip on your thighs, holding you steady as he continues to lavish attention on you, his mouth working with an eagerness that’s almost maddening.

“Fuck, Ethan…” you whimper, your voice shaky and breathless, and the sound only seems to spur him on. He groans again, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body, making you squirm beneath him.

He’s relentless now, his tongue moving faster, more confidently, alternating between soft licks and firm pressure, hitting every spot that has you arching off the bed. He’s a fast learner, picking up on every little movement, every gasp, and using it to push you closer and closer to the edge.

Your grip on his hair tightens as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable point, your body trembling with need. “Ethan… I-I’m so close…” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan responds with another low, guttural groan, the sound vibrating through you in a way that has you teetering on the brink. His tongue presses harder against your clit now, swirling in tight, deliberate circles, pushing you closer and closer to release. He slides one hand up your thigh, his fingers ghosting over your entrance, and the added sensation makes your entire body tense in anticipation.

You’re trembling, gasping for breath, your body taut with tension as you cling to the edge, and then Ethan’s fingers slip inside you—slow, deliberate—curling just right. The combination of his tongue and fingers has you coming undone in an instant.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, ripping a loud moan from your throat as your body convulses beneath him. Ethan doesn’t stop—if anything, he works you through your release, his tongue and fingers driving you higher, prolonging the pleasure until it’s almost too much to bear.

By the time the waves of pleasure finally begin to subside, your body is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. Ethan pulls back slowly, his mouth still hovering over your core as he presses one last, soft kiss to your thigh, his eyes dark and filled with something primal as he looks up at you.

The grin on his face is one of pure satisfaction, his lips glistening with your arousal as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dying to do that,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust and pride. “And I’m not even close to being done with you.”

Ethan’s gaze darkens as he drinks in the sight of you, still trembling from your release. There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere, a tangible heat that pulses between you, and you can feel the energy crackling in the air. He rises to his knees, the dominant edge of his demeanor coming into sharper focus, and you realize that he’s only just getting started.

“Look at you, all flustered and needy,” he says, his voice low and teasing, laced with a dark undertone that sends another thrill down your spine. “You really thought I was done with you?”

Before you can respond, he grips your waist with surprising strength, flipping you onto your stomach with a swift motion. You let out a soft gasp, momentarily caught off guard as he manhandles you into position. Your heart races at the sudden change, your body responding to his dominance in ways that leave you breathless.

“On all fours,” he commands, his tone brokering no argument. You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as you comply, pushing yourself up onto your hands and knees, the position feeling both vulnerable and exhilarating. The power dynamic shifts entirely, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, filled with both hunger and authority.

Ethan positions himself behind you, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body as he leans closer. His breath is warm against your skin, and he takes a moment to savor the sight of you. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, the praise mingling with the edge of something more possessive.

You shiver at his words, heat pooling in your core again as he runs his hands along your back, caressing you in a way that’s both tender and commanding. But then, without warning, he smacks your ass playfully, the sound echoing in the room. The unexpected sting takes you by surprise, and you gasp, your body instinctively reacting to the sharp pleasure mixed with a hint of pain.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, his voice dripping with a mixture of mockery and desire. “To be treated like a little slut? Because that’s what you are—so fucking eager for me to touch you, to make you feel good.”

You can’t help but moan at his words, the degradation sparking something deep within you. You feel both embarrassed and incredibly turned on, your body responding eagerly to his every command.

“Answer me,” he presses, his tone firm, demanding. “Do you want me to take you? To use you like the perfect whore you are?”

“Yes,” you gasp, the heat pooling in your belly intensifying as his words wash over you. The way he talks to you sends jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, and you can feel your arousal growing, pushing you closer to the edge again.

“Good girl,” he praises, and his voice is laced with satisfaction. He leans down closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You need to remember that you’re mine. I’m going to make you feel so good that you won’t be able to think about anything else.”

With that, he grips your hips tightly, holding you in place as he positions himself behind you, teasingly brushing against you, making you ache for more. “You ready for me?”

“Yes, Ethan, please…” you plead, your voice breathless, longing for him to fill you completely.

He chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying the control he has over you. “Not yet,” he replies, the teasing edge in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He drags his hands over your body, squeezing your ass possessively, almost too roughly, but the pleasure mingles perfectly with the sting, and it makes you crave him even more.

“Look at you, so desperate,” he taunts, pulling back slightly to admire the view. “You love it, don’t you? Being treated like this. You want me to degrade you, to remind you how much you need me.”

“Ethan…” you whimper, unable to hide the need in your voice.

“Shut up and take it,” he snaps, the sudden bite in his tone sending your heart racing. His hands grip your waist tightly, and with a swift thrust, he enters you in one smooth motion. The sensation is electric, and you cry out, the sudden fullness overwhelming you.

Ethan’s grip on your hips tightens as he begins to move, his thrusts powerful and deliberate. He’s relentless, using you for his pleasure as you melt beneath him, each movement igniting a fire within you. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he grunts, his voice low and rough with desire. “Just like that. Keep moaning for me, let me hear how much you love it.”

With every thrust, he builds a rhythm, punctuating his movements with the occasional slap to your ass that sends jolts of pleasure through you. You can feel the tension coiling tightly in your belly again, the mix of pain and pleasure pushing you closer to the edge.

“Look at you, taking it so well,” he growls, his voice thick with lust. “I could do this all night. Just you and me, baby,” the whimper you let out is weak, a perfect contrast to the guttural groans he’s letting out as his relentless movements speed up

“You want it harder?” he growls, his voice rough with lust. “You want me to fuck you like you can’t handle it?”

You nod frantically, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he pounds into you, his cock slamming deep inside you with each brutal thrust. The sound of it—the slick, obscene wetness, the slap of his hips against your ass—fills the room, and it’s everything.

“Ethan,” you whimper, the pleasure cresting higher with each thrust, his words fueling the fire within you.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he commands, his voice low and rough.

“I want it so bad… I want you,” you gasp, the need in your voice unmistakable.

“Good girl,” he praises, his thrusts growing faster, more frantic. “Let go for me. Let me see how much you need this.”

With his words pushing you over the edge, your body responds instinctively, the tension unraveling as your orgasm crashes over you again. You cry out his name, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washes through you, completely consumed by the moment.

Ethan doesn’t stop—he keeps thrusting, riding you through your release, his own pleasure building as he watches you fall apart beneath him. “That’s it, just like that,” he growls, the sound of your pleasure driving him closer to his own climax.

Ethan’s grip on your hips tightens as he flips you onto your back, a sudden shift in power that sends a thrill of excitement through you. The look in his eyes is intense, a dark hunger that ignites a fire deep within you. He hovers over you, his body pressing you down into the mattress as he lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you just enough to keep you on edge.

“Look at you,” he growls, his voice low and filled with a possessive edge. “So eager for it, and yet you were supposed to go out with Ryan? Pathetic.” His tone drips with mockery, and you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but there’s something exhilarating about his dominance that makes your pulse race even faster.

You bite your lip, trying to contain the moan threatening to escape as he slowly pushes into you, filling you completely. He’s rougher than before, and it sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust is deeper, harder, and more relentless than the last, making you gasp and arch your back in response.

“Did you really think he could ever compare to me?” he taunts, his breath hot against your ear as he begins to pick up speed. “You’re mine now, and I’d get rid of anyone who thinks they can have you. I’d kill for you, you know that? Anyone who comes near you is dead in my eyes.”

His words resonate through you, a mixture of thrill and arousal as he continues to move within you, each thrust igniting a new wave of pleasure. You can’t help but moan, the sound escaping your lips unbidden as you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation of him inside you. It’s as if he knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to bring out the wildness in you that craves this raw, unfiltered connection.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this since the moment we met,” he confesses, his voice rough and filled with need. “Every laugh you shared, every little tease… I imagined bending you over, taking you like this, showing you just how good it feels to be mine.”

You can barely process his words, lost in the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you. Your body responds to him, to his every thrust, every whisper, and you can feel the heat pooling in your core, ready to explode at any moment.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck as he continues to pound into you, relentless and dominating. “You’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “I want you to know that no one else can make you feel like this. No one can take care of you like I can.”

Ethan’s movements become more frantic, his breath coming in heavy pants as he pushes you closer to the edge. “I’d do anything to keep you. Anyone who gets in my way doesn’t stand a chance. You’re too perfect for them, too good to be with someone who can’t appreciate you like I do.”

You feel a rush of excitement at his words, the combination of dominance and desire swirling within you, making your body ache for more. You reach up, tugging on that silver chain right above your face before tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him down to capture his lips with yours, a desperate need driving the kiss.

Ethan deepens the kiss, pouring all of his pent-up longing into it, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the intensity of his desire almost overwhelming. He pulls back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “You understand what I want, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice a low growl.

“Y-Yes,” you manage to breathe, your body aching for him, desperate for the release he’s promising.

“Good,” he replies, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he resumes his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Then let’s see just how much you can take.”

With that, he plunges into you harder, faster, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you closer to that precipice. You can feel yourself spiraling out of control, every part of you aching for that release he’s teasing you with.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands, his eyes dark and filled with a possessive fire as he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Tell me you want this, that you want me.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate rush. “I want you, Ethan! I want this!”

His eyes flash with triumph at your confession, and he thrusts into you with renewed fervor, his body pushing you to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel the coil inside you tightening, and with every thrust, you’re closer to unraveling, ready to fall apart in his arms.

“Then come for me,” he commands, his voice low and seductive, and you know you can’t hold back any longer. With one final thrust, you explode around him, your body shaking as pleasure washes over you, leaving you gasping and trembling beneath him.

Ethan follows closely behind, his own release spilling into you as he groans your name, his body collapsing against yours as both of you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

As the last remnants of your orgasm fade, he pulls back slightly, looking down at you with a mixture of awe and possessiveness. “You’re incredible,” he breathes, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek. “I’d do anything to keep you like this—forever.”

You can’t help but smile at his words, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you as you realize that you’re not just a fleeting fantasy for him; you’re something real, something he wants to hold onto.

Ethan however, is still reeling at the fact he has his dream girl in his arms, completely unoblivious to how serious he was while fucking her dumb. The feeling was so incredible, he almost felt guilty about what he did to that dumb jock Ryan.

Almost.

#ethan landry #jack #jack champion #scream vi #ethanlandryxblackreader #ethan #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry smut #interracial #fluff #smut #kinktober #dom!ethanlandry #i need him so fucking bad

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star-girl69 · 11 months ago

Text

Cherry Blossom

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: headcanons about you and clarisse and your new adopted kid

a/n: idk inspiration strikes randomly but enjoy

Cherry Blossom - Lana Del Rey

warnings: not proofread, probs ooc clarisse but I DONT CARE I DO WHAT I WANT, swearing, mentions of violence and weapons, idk pretty chill, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

clarisse never really felt anything towards kids

sure some of them are cute

she likes her younger siblings, bc she gets a real kick out of being able to teach someone who ACTUALLY has talent

she wants a mini army of ares kids w her skill

she would DESTROY in capture the flag

but then along comes your little sibling ivy

even clarisse admits that that’s a cute kid

and you just LOVE this little baby

she has the same hair color and skin as you and yours just like omg my baby

she comes to camp when she’s like 10

bc her mortal parent has a new family and doesn’t rly want her anymore

she never really talks about it but you know that it hurts her

and then it’s like omg this adorable little baby needs a mom EYE will be her mom

clarisse is so confused as to why you love ivy so much

but you are DETERMINED

clarisse is trying to have a nice little date with you and then you walk over with ivy on your hip

she’s about to like explode

but one day you’re helping ivy get used to holding a sword and clarisse watches you from afar and she’s like OH MY GOD bc you are teaching her WRONG

so she marches over even tho she’s supposed to be doing something

“oh my god y/n y/n please i love you so much but STOP”

“what ☹️☹️”

“you are teaching her wrong just move over again i love you but MOVE OVER”

so then she teaches ivy just like the basic stances and ivy is like GOOD

you’re both impressed

but she just has a natural talent

and then all of a sudden clarisse is like oh yeah so this is my child and i would kill for her

ivy is the most spoiled camper at camp

like she always gets little baubles and things from the hephaestus kids you ask them to make and clarisse threatens them to make

you get her the BIGGEST piece of dessert every day

clarisse is a bit more bad cop tho

she’s not afraid to tell ivy to go do 20 push ups if she does smth wrong

and you’re just like “WHY ARE YOU TORTURING THE PRECIOUS BABY????”

it’s so funny bc you and clarisse will just be like tucking ivy in every night and it’s SO jarring bc clarisse is like “ok my little warrior have sweet dreams” and kissing her forehead

all of your siblings are confused but very happy!!!! ivy deserves loving parents even if they are two teenage girls

ivy is also the most popular and influential 10 year old at camp

like everyone knows her name and everyone knows to give her what she wants

there was this one day when some older camper accidentally bumped into her and bc she’s just a baby and so tiny (☹️❤️❤️) she got KNOCKED to the ground

and you’re like “OH MY GOD MY BABY”

and clarisse is like “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” about to punch the guy and then ivy starts crying bc she skinned her knee and then clarisse is like WHAT

she throws the kid to the ground and she’s like freaking out

overprotective clarisse you can never escape her

so then you’re all like running off the infirmary and ivy is FINE like you and clarisse are just insane

and then one time another younger kid was being mean to ivy and you actually had to hold clarisse back from attacking this 12 year old

ivy definitely picks up her habits from the two of you

someone pisses her off and she will just start attacking them

clarisse is trying so hard not to be proud while you tell ivy that violence is not the answer

but then clarisse is like “OH WHO CARES Y/N THAT WAS SUCH A GREAT KICK AND AN EVEN BETTER PUNCH”

“CLARISSE NO”

the ONLY two people clarisse is affectionate with are you and ivy like ivy is always climbing her like a jungle gym bc clarisse is just so strong and can like do all these crazy things w her

clarisse will literally throw her up into the air really high and catch her

ivy fucking loves it

you have a heart attack

and now they have to do it in secret 💔

you always tuck ivy in together but let’s be real most nights ivy ends up in your bed

and clarisse is all pissed off

so she ends up sneaking into your cabin and your bed every night

like just a huge tangle of limbs and blankets and ivy snores but it’s not that loud and it’s adorable

like the ONE night clarisse didn’t sneak into your bed ivy had a nightmare and you were like oh no way

bc most nights clarisse comes in at like 11pm and you’re already asleep but you know she’s there and you wake up next to her so

but you wake up to comfort ivy and you’re like WHERE THE FUCK IS CLARISSE

and then ivy realizes CLARISSE IS NOT THERE

it’s like some super dramatic scene in a movie you wrap up ivy in a blanket and come into the area cabin and start berating clarisse

“do you just hate us? bc it is ONE THIRTY THREE in the morning and you are NOT in my bed and poor ivy had a nightmare and you WERE NOT THERE”

clarisse is like looking at you like what

half of her siblings are awake and just watching this crying child you’re holding cross her arms and shake her head disapprovingly and clarisse is not even awake yet

“baby idek what you’re saying just come lay down”

“yes but we’re talking about this in the morning”

“…okay”

of course all is forgiven the next morning after a nice sleep

there was this one night you were at the campfire and then ivy just found some random person’s dagger? and she’s like

“y/n!!! clarisse!!! look what i found!!!!”

“what do you have?”

“a knife!!!!”

“NO”

like that one meme y’all know

and then you have to chase her down

clarisse gives her a very blunt sort of dagger thing to play with and ivy is very happy

it’s so weird bc clarisse is like yk being all grumpy and mean and then ivy or you walks around and she’s like AHHHHHH MY LOVES

also when percy shows up he’s so confused

like the scene where she pushes him over you walk over with ivy and then ivy literally JUMPS from your arms to clarisse’s bc she knows she’ll catch her

and then clarisse is like “omg hi my little warrior how is your day?”

“OH MY GOD I THREW A ROCK REALLY HIGH I’M SO STRONG”

you’re like “no seriously it was like 10 feet high”

“omg baby that’s so amazing i’m so proud of you”

then everyone around you is like “oh wow ivy that’s so amazing you are so strong”

bc ivy is just an adorable baby and also bc they don’t want to incur clarisse’s wrath

she don’t PLAY about ivy’s happiness

percy is ????

then clarisse is like “oh isn’t that so funny my 10 year old baby can throw a rock higher than you probably can”

PERCY IS ??????

that’s all i got y’all

in conclusion ivy is just your perfect little angel princess

and you and ivy are the lights of clarisse’s life

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #clarisse and ivy and y/n: the perfect family

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writingsbytee · 4 days ago

Text

HIDDEN PT. 3

TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER

WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: Violence, death, reader gets traumatized

SUMMARY: Things get real when Raul spots Daphne. Will Terry come to her rescue?

TROPES: grumpy x sunshine ; “touch her and die”; slow burn;

AUTHOR’S NOTE: OH MY GOD. Y’all I’m so sorry this took so long. When I say life has been whooping my ass I mean that shit. And I’m having the birthday blues. But please enjoy this installment of ‘HIDDEN’ . I hope it was worth the wait.

WORD COUNT: 2K +

PREVIOUSLY ON HIDDEN: 1 , 2

*Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

DAPHNE

My heart is pounding, my ears are ringing, and all I can hear is the whoosh of the blood rushing through my veins.

I try to take a calming breath before I speak, “Raul?”

Rafa’s younger brother Raul sits back in his chair eyeing me appreciatively. His lips curve into a devilish grin. If I thought Rafa was bad, based on what he’s told me he doesn’t even compare to his younger pyromaniac of a brother.

“Pretty, pretty Daphne last time I saw you, you were at the end of my brother’s fist. Good to see you’ve really leveled up,” he finishes sarcastically, motioning toward Terry. My eyes shift to my right where Terry’s standing and he looks pissed! Gone was the sweet, playful man rubbing my neck 15 minutes ago. The man standing before me was scar personified.

Eyes narrowed with a permanent scowl in place.

“My brother will be glad to know that I’ve found his little dove,” Raul says, a mischievous look glinting in his eye. My pulse thunders in my ears as rage blurs my vision. Before I know it I’m across the table in Raul’s face.

“You limp dick piece of shit! You tell Rafa where I am and I’ll tell the cops about October 4th”. Threatening a sociopath probably isn’t my best moment, but I’m just so pissed off at men feeling like they can take what they want when they want without consequences. Raul’s smirk vanishes and his eyes darken.

I barely blink before his hands are around my throat, “You stupid fucking cunt! Open your mouth and I’ll fucking kill you. You think you can threaten me, I’m fuck-”.

Whatever he said was cut off by a bullet piercing the side of his head. His blood splattered against my face as he dropped like a sack of potatoes. My eyes frantically search for the source of the shooter. My breath catches when I see Terry placing his gun back in his waistband.

“Never liked that motherfucker anyway,” he said looking at Raul’s lifeless body. I stare down at him in shock, eyes lifeless. I blink hard and take a deep breath hoping I can wish it all away. My dreams prove futile when I open them and he’s still there dead on the floor. Terry’s timberlands come into my view and I look up to meet his eyes.

“Daphne, are you ok? Talk to me!”, he says, shaking my shoulders. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.

“Look at me Daph, shit. Mario!” Terry’s right in my face shouting, but it feels like I’m in the bottom of a well. I’m lifted off my feet and a scream leaves my lips.

“Shh, shh, it’s just me,” Terry says carrying me towards his office. Once we’re inside he sets me on a couch and heads towards his desk. My trembling hands reach up to wipe the blood off my face. Terry grabs my hands, placing them back down at my side.

“Let me,” Terry said, bringing a baby wipe up to my face. He gently scrubs all the blood and makeup from my face. I look up at Terry, our eyes finally meeting after all the chaos that occurred.

“You’re blurry. Why is your face blurry?” I ask.

I hear a deep sigh come from Terry, “Daphne, you’re crying.” As many times as I’ve helped people dealing with their own trauma’s, I can’t even identify my own. I wipe the tears and take a deep breath. I can’t believe Raul’s dead, well I can based on everything Rafa’s told me about him. You can only lie, cheat, kill and rob for so long. He wasn’t a good person, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to see him shot in front of me.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair soon,” I say, getting up from Terry’s couch. Terry pushed me down by my shoulders shaking his head.

“No, you’re not going anywhere. I had Mario drop your car off at home,” Terry said, moving around his office.

“What are you going to do to me?” the tremble of my voice audible in my question.

“I’m taking you to my place, we need to talk about what happened. I know you have Lexi, but I want to make sure you’re okay,” Terry said, moving to sit next to me on the sofa.

“You just shot him Terry, I’m still just trying to process everything,” I was rubbing my hands up and down my arms with anxious energy. Terry took notice and went to grab his jacket, placing it around my shoulders. I took a brief inhale, finding comfort in the bergamot scent that surrounded me.

“He was strangling you Daphne, he would’ve killed you. I couldn’t let that happen,” Terry said looking down at me with an intensity that I’ve never seen before.

“You saved my life and I can’t thank you enough for that Terry. But this is too much I feel like I can’t even get my head on straight,” I was spiraling. The ringing in my ears intensified along with my breathing. This was the start of a panic attack, a bad one.

TERRY

Shit! She’s about to have a full blown panic attack, maybe I shouldn’t have shot that little shit in front of her. I just didn’t think, I reacted which is something I rarely do. I squat down in front of her to make sure that we’re eye level.

“Daphne, look at me sweetheart," I say with an even tone of voice. Her deep set brown eyes meet mine frantically. She’s looking at me but I might as well be a lamp with the way she’s looking through me. I placed my hands on either side of her head, I can practically feel her thoughts. Her breathing is still erratic, if she keeps this up she’ll pass out.

“Daph, you need to breathe, c’mon honey just breathe for me,” I say, moving my hands to rub up and down her arms. That seems to snap her out of it when her eyes refocus on mine.

“There’s my pretty girl you think you can breathe for me?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. She tries to take a few deep breaths, but they come out choppy, like she’s on the verge of tears.

I try to stand, but her hand reaches up and she grips my collar.

“You - You can’t leave me in here. Please don’t go.” She looked up at me with those doe eyes and I started to feel things. Things I shouldn’t be feeling, like wanting to protect her from everything.

“I’m not going anywhere, but we need to leave, my guys need to start cleaning up. Can you stand?”

Daphne takes another shaky breath before she stands. I adjust my jacket on her and turn to grab my keys off my desk. I wrap my arm across her shoulder and begin to lead her out.

“Is this okay? My arm around you like this?” I ask, sneaking a peek down at her. She nods her head and we head out of my office.

“Wow, your place is beautiful, “ Daphne says, her eyes darting around my loft. A small smirk reaches my lips, and I say a quiet thank you. I direct her to the spare bedroom and bring her some spare towels, and some clothes of mine for her to change into.

While Daphne’s in the shower I go to do the same. Jesus today has been a fucking day. So much for trying to ease her into the lifestyle. Was is messy to shoot Raul in the middle of my establishment with witnesses? Yes. But do I regret it? Fuck no. But knowing that Daphne’s ex is Rafa changes things.

Rafa and I used to be thick as thieves, running these New Orleans streets. Until he got greedy, he wanted to step into some dark web type shit and I wasn’t for it. We parted ways and I assumed we could just leave it at that. But now I see we’ll have a reason to chat again. That reason being 5’2, beautiful and thicker than 2 day old grits. I hop out of the shower, moisturize and spray a little cologne on before throwing on a plain white tee and gray sweats.

Making my way towards my kitchen I can hear Daphne on the phone with someone. I slow my steps so I can be nosy and hear what she’s saying.

“Lexi, I’m fine I promise. He just scared me.” I hear her say and my heart drops to my ass. I figured I scared her a little bit but I hope it doesn’t deter my plan. My ears perk when I hear my name being mentioned.

“I’m at Terry’s place… he didn’t want me to be alone after what happened with Raul. He’s being nice, that's all. He couldn’t have one of his bartenders too traumatized to move,” she giggles at something her sister says on the other side of the phone and my heart warms at the sound.

“You dirty little slut I am not doing that!,” Daphne whispers into the phone. I figure this is a good time to make my presence known. Her eyes lock with mine when I round the corner to the kitchen.

“Lex, I’ll call you later. Love you. Bye,” Daphne says, shooting me an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that when I didn’t come home Lexi got worried,” Daphne said, wringing her hands together nervously.

“It’s all good mama, if you’re not too wiped by today I think we should talk,” I gesture toward the living room. She nods slightly a small smile on her lips as she makes her way toward my living room. My eyes get stuck watching the way her ass moves in my shirt. No way this woman is real. We settle into the love seat and I stretch, a lame attempt at trying to bring her closer to me. A small smirk forms on my lips as Daphne inches closer to me. My shirt rides up against her plush thighs revealing that she’s not wearing the boxers I gave her. This woman is going to be the death of me and she doesn’t have a clue.

“Look, I just want to start by saying I’m so sorry Daphne. I don’t regret shooting the motherfucker, he was hurting you and I don’t stand for shit like that. I just hate that I traumatized you in the process. I’m not usually that violent, but like I said he was hurting you, and I’d do it again,” I’m a little out of breath at the end of my rant. My eyes meet Daphne’s and I can’t help but get lost in them. They’re mesmerizing.

“Terry, can I hug you?,” she asks, scooting closer toward me. A small chuckle leaves my lips before I open my arms wide, inviting her in.

“C’mere pretty girl,” I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her. She fits perfectly in my arms, like she’s meant to be there. A content sigh leaves her lips, her lips brushing against my neck in the process. After a few moments, she pulls back and our eyes meet.

“Daph, can I kiss you?”

Another cliffhanger?? I know I know, don’t beat my ass. I hope you guys liked this one more to come soon. I’m really happy I could get this to you guys today, it’s my birthday and I couldn’t keep y’all hanging any longer, sorry this one is a little short the next part will be longer!

if i forgot to tag you please leave a comment

Until next time

TEE <3

TAGLIST

@blackgurlnhermoods @megamindsecretlair @dxddykenn @pinkkycherrish @episodes-ff @kimuzostar @uzumaki-rebellion @urfavblackbimbo @kianaleani @shallipii @greatpandagladiator @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereina @pocketsizedpanther @mymindisneverhere @onherereading @nayaesworld @earthchica @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @blyffe @melalsworld @mogul93 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @sweettea-and-honeybutter @diaries-of-me @notapradagurl7 @helloncrocs @miyuhpapayuh @simplyzeeka @gg-trini @mogul93

#rebel ridge fanfiction #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond x black reader #black fem reader #black!fem!reader #terry richmond x black! fem plus size reader

105 notes · View notes

whyse7vn · 11 months ago

Text

BREAK -

[ot7 x reader]

PEACE AND LOVE 😁💗

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

jk: guys i’m lost ☹️

jimin: like emotionally??

tae: or sexually?

jk: woah um

idk anymore

jin: probably psychologically

yoongi: what’s new?

namjoon: jungkook you are in your kitchen

y/n: can confirm he is in the kitchen.

yoongi: loser

jin: what’s with the punctuation lmao

jk: woah i am in our kitchen

how did i get here

good morning guys ^0^

jin: it’s 7pm?

y/n: he’s hungover.

jk: yeah T-T

jimin: not surprised drank jin’s body weight in alcohol yesterday

jk: there was a lot going on :((

yoongi: so you result to alcoholism?

namjoon: it’s better than resulting to violence!!!

y/n: hoseok can’t relate.

hobi: i said i’m sorry 😓

jin: jimin i’ve thought about it and i really think you’re projecting when it comes to this weight thing

jimin: project a vegetable

jin: project a cure for the body issues you CEARLY have

namjoon: guys

jk: ants playing ddr in my head rn

i’m so upset

also how do i take about a loan?

i want a loan

namjoon: jungkook you do not need a loan

jk: ok

i’m sorry

namjoon: jungkook you better not be crying right now

jk: i’m not crying

y/n: he is crying

but that is not important rn.

can we talk about yesterday because what the fuck?

tae: YESSS i’ve been waiting for this

whoever wants the video of hobi punching the shit out of jaehyun you have to me pay at least 4k

namjoon: what is wrong with you

tae: if you want it with sound i have to charge extra

tae changed the gc name to “HOBI GOT HANDS”

y/n: not funny.

namjoon: taehyung please

jin: can’t believe hobi fr punched him

yoongi: i can

hobi: y/n you still mad??

jin: she’s using punctuation

she’s furious ☠️

jimin: sHe’S fUrIoUs 🤓☝🏼

who tf says that

jin: OHMYGOD GET OF MY DICK FOR ONE SECOND I’M BEGGING

jimin: sHe’S fUrIoUs 🤓☝🏼

tae: is she fast too lmao

y/n: shut the fuck up taehyung

tae: okay!

y/n: my boyfriend is fine btw

if any of you actually care

yoongi: don’t

hobi: i’m sorry

y/n: you laughed after you made him bleed

yoongi: didn’t you laugh too lol??

y/n: OKAY I DID A LITTLE

but that’s before i realised hoseok hit him for real

jin: you can hit someone for fake?

tae: you can watch her smile fall after the second punch in the video it’s really funny actually!!!!!!!

y/n: didnt i tell you to shut the fuck up?

tae: you did

i’m sorry

shutting up

like rn ong 🙏🏼

🤐

jin: ?

jimin: it means on god

jin: stop talking to me

jimin: sorry just making sure you got it

slang sure has changed since 1781!!!

jin: 1781????????

jk: omg that’s that one hamilton song

hobi: there is no hamilton song called 1781

jimin: are we talking about the 1975

tae: the what

hobi: aren’t they white?

tae: they????

jimin: HAMILTONS WHITE????

yoongi: the real one is

jimin: there’s a fake hamilton??

tae: hamilton a they/them?

namjoon: you can’t say that

y/n: why are we talking about hamilton?

tae: why can’t i say that?

am i pissing off the feminists? ☠️☠️☠️

namjoon: this has nothing to do with feminism

jin: i’m a feminist

tae: did my they/them hamilton question offend you??

jin: tf does that even mean

jimin: born in 1066 doesn’t even know what pronouns are

jin: fuck you and ur proverbs

y/n: he literally said pronouns

tae: i’m a prosexhaver

yoongi: you have stds

hobi: personally i would like to shoot taehyung

jk: sex haver????

jin: virgin

y/n: he makes me sick

jimin: oh i HATE him

namjoon: deep breaths

tae: ???

wtf

why did you all just turn on me like that?

guys are you jealous of my sex having abilities?

everyone be honest now

y/n: you clearly don’t know what shutting the fuck up includes

tae: ok i’m sorry

never speaking again starting in like

an hour

i promise

y/n: how about now

tae: 30 mins?

y/n: kys

tae: stop flirting omg 🤭

yoongi: idiot

jk: WAIT OMG?

HOBI FR PUNCHED JAEHYUN??/! ö

jin: you were literally there??

jk: I THOUGHT THAT WAS A DREAM

OHMYGOD

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

HEHEHE

OMG HOBI THATS CRAZY

UR CRAZY

hobi: i’m not crazy

jimin: like crazy

y/n: you think it’s funny??

jk: NO

absolutely not wtf

????????

hoseok why would you do that?

that’s so messed up

shame on you really

shame on you

jimin: ur pathetic actually

namjoon: anyways hobi it was wrong of you to result to violence just because you were jealous

please apologise

y/n please accept his apology you know hobi wouldn’t never want to upset you on purpose he loves and cares for you deeply

kiss and make up guys

you don’t want to fuck up our group dynamic do you???

no?

didn’t think so!!

wow would you look at that we are all friends again

smooth like butter 🧈 💛

dynamite 🧨

borahae in this bangtan shit for life 💜💜

y/n: kys

jk: KISS???????????

jin: hobi was jealous?

hobi: NO?????????

yoongi: interesting

jimin: yeah that’s crazy

hobi: I WASN’T I SWEAR

namjoon: you weren’t???

my fault

hobi: yeah your fault

maybe ur just projecting lol

jimin: yeah calling bullshit

if you didn’t punch him out of jealously

what did you punch him for???

tae: it’s cuz he was like feeling her up right in front of our faces right??

have he no respect?

jk: respect no he have?

tae: stop

jk: sorry

tae: actually nvm you were agreeing with me

agree some more

jk: i agree some more

tae: see?

jk: see??

tae: what a nasty pervert freak of a man

namjoon: look in a mirror

jimin: that’s crazy because i wasn’t talking you

tae: right joon shut the hell up

jk: zip it

jimin: you as in YOU taehyung and jungkook

i was talking to hobi not you guys

jk: oh

tae: we talk for hobi

hobi: no you don’t

tae: we ARE hobi

jk: i’m not hobi

or am i?????

ohmgod am i???

yoongi: ur all so annoying

y/n: ok hoseok wasn’t jealous are you stupid??

why would he be jealous?????

hobi: right!

i was drunk

jin: i swear you didn’t drink last night??

hobi: ur not helping?

jimin: i’m telling you it’s bullshit

tae: ok now let’s talk about how that was coolest thing hobi’s ever done in his life should of tagged me in fr fr

i would of gone crazy no joke 💯💯

we would of got him so bad hobi

#dreamteam 😍

namjoon: taehyung

tae: what?

i’m just saying

y/n: say one more thing

tae: i’m sorry

sorry

SORRY 😢

jimin: so the plot thickens!!

hobi: there is not plot

there is no jealousy

jin: ok why did you punch him then

hobi: i was drunk i said that already

jin: you DIDN’T drink

guys why is he lying to us

do you not trust us???

come on step into my office hoseok

open up to daddy jin

y/n: ew???

jin: ew?

y/n: that’s what i said

jin: but in spainnnnnn

y/n: stop

jin: 🫰🏻

yoongi: hobi do you want to fuck y/n?

hobi: what

yoongi: answer the question

y/n: yoongi wtf???

namjoon: yoongi please

jk: DO NOT ANSWER DO NOT ANSWER DO NOT ANSWER

hobi: i’m not answering that wtf

jimin: i think we all know his answer anyways

yoongi: yeah

but i want him to say it

tae: waitttt kinky

say it hoseok 😋😋😋

namjoon: can we not rn…

jimin: tae you definitely need to add him to ur stupid little group chat

tae: ummmm

it’s not stupid it’s real actually

jk: real men only!!!

tae: hobi are you a real man?

hobi: what

tae: are you real??

hobi: yeah

jk: say it

hobi: say what?

tae: i’m real

hobi: i’m real?

tae: REAL UGLY

HAHAHA

jk: LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

hobi: u guys are so unfunny it hurts

tae: got you lolz

namjoon: taehyung stop talking

tae: forgive me? 🥺

hobi tried to come for what we stand for

hobi: i literally didn’t???

it was jimin

jin: hey wait what group chat??

let me in what the hell

yoongi: no

jin: ur in the gc too??

yoongi: am i?

jk: he is

tae me joon and yoongi 💓

namjoon: can you stfu.

jin: EVEN JOON??????

let me in or ur all going to hell

y/n: yeah me too wtf??

tae: jin

between me and you

your invite may arrive soon

i’ve seen your eyes wondering as of late

jin: ????

what

yeah ok nvm!

i think i’ll live not being in ur gc

and if this is about what i think it’s about

count me out

jk: aw man :/

tae: wow so many haters in this life

you’ll regret this

you’ll be begging on ur knees to join real soon

y/n: WHAT ABOUT ME HELLO????

jk: hiiiiiii ^_^

y/n: ykw nvm idc

yoongi: you do

y/n: not

yoongi: yeah ok :3

namjoon: there is no group chat

jk: ??? yes there is don’t be silly joon 😂😂

namjoon: OHMYGOD LEARN HOW TO TAKE A FUCKING HINT

can we move on

wtf why am i asking you guys

i’m the leader

we are moving on.

y/n: THIS IS SEGREGATION

jk: ohmygod is this a race thing???

namjoon not again

jimin: LMFAOOOSJDJJK

y/n: i mean i was talking about gender

but this could be a race thing

is this a race thing????

jk: OHMYGOD NAMJOON UR A SEXIST TOO????

i thought that was just jimin

jin: no ur right

jk: oh ok!

jimin: can you stop

i’m NOT a sexist ok

but hobi DID punch jaehyun

hobi: wtf is ur problem

jimin: sorry i needed to put everyone back on track xx

hobi: there is no track

jimin: no there is a track and i put everyone back on it

jk: train track

yoongi: lay on one?

tae: LAYOVER YES

i know that album

it’s really good

indigo flopped

namjoon: shut up shut up shut up shut up

tae: so like gf wyd rn? *kicks feet giggles*

yoongi kicked tae out of “HOBI GOT HANDS!!”

yoongi: not sorry

jk: it’s ok i forgive you

yoongi: shut up

jk: ok

y/n: he told me we should go on a break…

jk: i had a break on my bike once

then it broke

so i had a breakless bike

and i couldn’t brake

so to stop i would just pedal into walls

my bike to this day has no breaks it makes me sad

namjoon: jungkook please just get a new bike

and y/n i’m sorry to hear about your break

jk: ok >.<

y/n: thanks ig

namjoon: wait

??????

break

ur on break

with jaehyun?

y/n: no i’m on a break with fucking usher

jin: A BREAK?????????????

jimin: WOAH WAIT HOLD ON

yoongi: is he fucking stupid???

jk: USHER???

hobi: no jungkook she’s talking about jaehyun

jk: oh

hobi: jaehyun

nct jaehyun your friend jaehyun.

jk: OHMYGOD WAIT WHAT WHATWHENDHDHDJDJD WHAT OHMYGOF OHMSYSH DKEJEJDJG SISHDJXMISSHENDODJDIDUSJEJFJDKDKFNDBDNDMDNDFNFNFNFMMF

jk added tae to “HOBI GOT HANDS!!”

jk: LOOK

tae: hey guys u missed me 😁?

jk: LOOK

tae: looking

jk: LOOKSKKSKSKDKDKDDKK

tae: holy shit

y/n are you ok??

jimin: THIS IS INSANE

y/n: yeah fuck him and fuck his break

yoongi: i’ll break his neck

jin: jungkook get ur friend

jk: JSNDNDNNDJJDJDFJNDJDJDJDJD ahshshxhdnxndnxnd JAJSHDBSBDBXBXNXNXJXJXJZHHXHXBSHSHSHXHZJZJXJXJXJJXJXJJDD SHSNDNDNDNDNXNDJJDXJXJXJX DHXJDJDNDNDNXXNZN

tae: woah

hobi: but are you like actually ok???

y/n: never been better

namjoon: no fr it’s ok if you’re upset

y/n: i’m not upset

jimin: wow

so like

wow

idk how to comfort people namjoon say something

namjoon: there there?

jin: chin up!!!!!

jk: I AM ALSO SINGLE THIS IS SUCH A COINCIDENCE LIKE WE ARE BOTH SINGLE AT THE SAME TIME WOW LIKE YEAH UR ON A HREAK BUT UR BASICALLY SINGLE THATS REALLY CRAZY LIKE HAHA LOL WE ARE SINGLE LOOK AT US TWO SINGLE PEOPLE WHO HAPPEN TO LIVE TOGETHER MAYBE WE SHOULD IDK LIKE HEHEH JSJSJJSJDJ

yoongi: when are we jumping him??

i can leave now

y/n: shut up

yoongi: you coming over?

y/n: no?

yoongi: boo

y/n: i’m going to hobi’s

hobi: you are??

jimin: to fight or fuck??

y/n: shut up

jin: that’s crazy

hobi broke up a happy home

hobi: i’m genuinely so sorry

i didn’t mean to

y/n: wasn’t even ur fault don’t apologise

he was a acting weird for a while

wanted to live in denial but it’s whatever idc!!!!!!!

tae: you clearly do care and that’s ok

y/n: i DON’T

tae: y/n

y/n: taehyung

jimin: ew like why is taehyung being all serious i hate it

tae: cuz this is serious

y/n: it’s not

tae: it’s ok to be upset

y/n: i know and i’m NOT

tae: y/n

y/n: i’m not upset omg????

stop being weird i’m like so ok it’s crazy

jimin: like crazy lolz

jin: that is the second time you’ve made that joke and it was just as unfunny as it was the first time you said it

jimin: why are you keeping tabs on me and what i say get a LIFE

jin: you make me want to kms

jimin: do it

jin: namjoon get him before i get violent

namjoon: guys can you see we have bigger issues going on rn

be serious for once

y/n: i’m fine

there is no serious issue

i’m ok

no tears

no noting

i’m fine ok? ok

tae: y/n

y/n: tae stop

ykw ur pissing me off

ur all pissing me off

y/n left “HOBI GOT HANDS!!”

hobi: oh wow

jin: i didn’t even do anything fr

jimin: i blame tae

yoongi: jaehyun is a bitch

jk: do you think she’ll let me kiss her now?

namjoon: jungkook shut up

tae do NOT message her

and yoongi do not even THINK about leaving your house rn

i think we need to have a group meeting or something

—

sorry this sucks i just needed a reason to get rid of jaehyun so we could move forward LMAO i’m sorry better things coming soon 😁🙏🏽

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @sopebubbles-replies @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin

354 notes · View notes

lifeafterartsch00l · 4 months ago

Text

My fav sns smut

or some of it anyway

If Naruto x Sasuke fking nasty is your ☕️

I tried to find all these beloved authors to tag them, but I couldn’t find them all, if you know who they are, plz tag them! Let’s share the ❤️

In no particular order

Healing the Broken by KizuKatana

When people tell me about smut they read in printed books I’m like

Because it’s fics like these that amaze me with their ingenuity, creativity, originality, and boldness 🔥🔥🔥

AKA

This fic isn’t just PWP (although that’s fine too in my book), it’s so well written with character development, action & romance ❤️‍🔥 Predators by the same author is also excellent 👌🏽

Thx u @kizukatana 😊

“Chapters: 23/23

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Underage

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke

Additional Tags: Angst, SPOILERS MANGA CHAPTER 693, Drug Use, sex during drug use, Canon-Typical Violence, canon!sasuke, canon!naruto, Addiction, Slash, narusasunaru, Fix-It, my version of how it should have ended, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, NSFW, Smut

Series: Part 1 of HTB universe

Summary: The war is over, and Sasuke is brought back to the village after his defeat by Naruto. But he is struggling to re-assimilate into the village. As his mental stability continues to erode, Tsunade and Kakashi ask Naruto to try a different treatment method. Naruto x Sasuke (slash - boy x boy). Post manga chapter 693.

Warning: Hard Yaoi (Boy x Boy) language, angst, mental illness, substance abuse, masturbation, eventual sex. Not appropriate for young readers. 18+

Disclaimer - As with everything I write on this site, I don't own the characters (Kishimoto does), and I make no money. My only payment is in reviews.

Spanish Translation by Linme (thank you!) “

[doujinshi] My Lost Himawari by SouthNorthSound

Me, to the artist (and English translator) of this visually stunning and well written doujinshi -

Seriously. It’s amazing. The visual metaphors. The angst. The way the artist can simply draw a single panel of a close-up Uchiha eye that is so outrageously sultry and sexy I don’t understand 🥵 one of the extra chapters unlocked something in me (the dream one). Bonus that it’s also really funny & has a lot of respect/empathy for its women characters too! If anyone knows who this artist plz let me know I would like to follow them until the end of the world ❤️ the ending healed me 💔

EDIT HOLY S*** GUYS I FOUND THE TRANSLATOR & ARTIST ON TUMBLR

Thx u @southnorthsound 😭❤️🫡🙇🏻‍♀️

Thx u @gigihorseinthehouse 😭 I love you I low key think you’re a genius ok sorry bye 👉🏽👈🏽

"https://archiveofourown.org/works/36581581

[doujinshi] My Lost Himawari by SouthNorthSound

Chapters: 60/60

Fandom: Naruto, Boruto: Naruto Next Generations

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura, Hyuuga Hinata, Uchiha Sarada, Uzumaki Boruto, Uzumaki Himawari, Hatake Kakashi, Nara Shikamaru, Temari (Naruto), Nara Shikadai, Akimichi Chouchou, Gaara (Naruto)

Additional Tags: Fanart, Fan Comics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, SasuNaru - Freeform, NaruSasu - Freeform, Translation, Doujinshi, Fix-It, how it should have ended, Angst, If you don’t understand how they ended up like that in Boruto READ THIS, Poetic, comedic, Loyal to canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, NSFW Art, Sex

Summary: A love story consists of different perspectives and different memories. It’s about saudade / realization / entanglement / out of control / hope / restart

Chapter700 background

Warning: adult content in extra chapters

Fan comics, doujinshi. It's highly recommended to read it on big screens such as iPad or PC. So you can see details about their facial expressions

One of the best Naruto fanart I’ve ever seen. So I translated it ❤”

Inevitablity by Sanauria_Maldhun

If the answer is

A) Yes

B) Kinda

C) Mind your own business rando internet pervert

Congrats all answers are correct = GO READ IT PLZ

Possessive & desperate 🥵 super gay, delicious angst, really hot 🔥 very enjoyable - fun tropes, everything hits just right, utter perfection ❤️ I’m not saying a lot because I don’t want to give away spoilers 😍

I couldn’t find this author on tumblr, plz tag in the comments if you know who they are!

“Chapters: 4/4

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura

Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, (between Ino and Naruto), Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Banter, Domesticity, Pining, Naruto is so in love, and doesn't know how to handle his Feelings, Jealousy, Jealous Sasuke, Jealous Sakura, Post-Chapter 699 (Naruto), Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Bottom Uzumaki Naruto, Top Uchiha Sasuke

Summary: Naruto's stressed and pining after a man who views him only as a friend. Deciding to get married to Ino isn't the best decision he's made (ever), given that they had been absolutely drunk while making such a declaration, but it's... a decision. Besides, what does he have to lose?”

You’ve gotten into my bloodstream (a bite of his heart) by lovenmaze

Nom nom nom 😉 kidding! Not literal cannibalism, it’s a metaphor for love, and this fic is beautiful 😍 poetic & sexy. One shot. Love how Naruto talks to Sasuke in this one (and makes him talk, too, hehe…) 🥵 delicious, please go tuck into this feast ❤️ author made an excellent fic playlist too!

Thx u @lovenmaze 😊

“https://archiveofourown.org/works/56430019

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Not Rated

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto

Additional Tags: Cannibalistic Thoughts, Cannibalism imagery, First Time, Top Uzumaki Naruto, Bottom Uchiha Sasuke, Tender Sex, Blank Period (Naruto), Confessions, Idiots in Love, Not Beta Read, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Sex, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Smut, they’re both crazy about each other but thats not new, Poetic, Italicized Oh Moment, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, trust me it works and its SO good, consent is sexy !!!, lowkey vampire sasuke vibes

Summary: Sasuke tries to bite softly, he’s not going to eat him, maybe get a taste. Perhaps it’s stupid, but he wants to make sure, so he does. He opens his mouth, tongue touching the skin. His body shudders, and Naruto tastes warm, like skin or flesh; he tastes alive.

“A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism.”

AKA, The tender, fluffy, first-time, cannibalism (imagery), smut NaruSasu AU. [EDITED.]”

❤️Thx all u amazing authors u make me feel like this❤️

#naruto #naruto fic rec #naruto fic #sns #narusasu #sasunaru #sasunaru fic #a03 author #a03 writer #a03 fanfic #a03 link #a03 fic #read on a03 #smut #narusasu smut #my fic recs #lifeafterartsch00l fic recs

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captain039 · 16 days ago

Text

PART 4 Blood, Fur and Magic

Vampire Viktor x reader x Werewolf Jayce

Warnings: Vampire things, werewolf things, light swearing, possessiveness, smut, sexual, intimacy, poly relationship, angst, violence

Previous part <-

You’re scared, of everything that’s happened, of yourself, of whoever keeps haunting your dreams. It’s always cryptic messages, accept the bond, we have given a gift, never useful information. You’re tired, you haven’t slept properly in days and you’re angry. This magic or whatever it is reacts to your emotions and since you’re constantly on edge and angry it is too, you’ve noticed runes over your body, like they’re etched into your skin glowing blue over your arms, hands and torso. You don’t know what they mean, neither do Jayce or Viktor, the runes on the hexcore are different to the ones littering your body and sitting there with your top off so they could copy them was horrifying. You were a tomato the whole way through sitting there beet red while Viktor copied them onto paper and Jayce studied them. You thought at least Jayce would take mercy but no, he was too engrossed in finding out what they meant to even care. You know it was for science but still, you’ve never shown a man anything besides legs and arms and face.

You sit on the couch trying to focus on the book you’re reading but finding it difficult you make a noise of frustration the runes on the back of your hands pulsing in response.

“Tea?” You jolt but see Viktor in the kitchen putting the kettle on and nod muttering a thank you as you run a hand down your face and place the book down. You hear another set of steps leave Viktor’s room and figure Jayce is either grabbing food or going to the bathroom. Jayce sits by you though and you give him a small brief smile.

“Are you ok?” Jayce asks and you give him a small look.

“Right,” he mutters looking embarrassed.

“Do you need anything?” He asks hesitantly.

“Sleep without dreams or visions or whatever the hell they are” Your voice is snappy without meaning to and you tug the blanket you have over yourself closer.

“I’m sorry” you mumble.

“Can I do anything to help?” Jayce asks and you glance at him before shaking your head he looks sad when you do and you sigh a bit. You hesitate but begin to move you lean closer to him resting your head on his shoulder hesitantly. Jayce is quick to catch on, he lifts his arm and wraps his strong arm around your shoulders keeping you close. You melt into him he’s a little too warm but it’s comforting. Viktor comes over with two cups of tea in hand he gives one to you before sitting on the other side of you where you were previously. You lean against Jayce and sip on your tea in silence for a while enjoying the presence of both men. Once you’ve finished you put the cup on the coffee table before leaning back against Jayce his warmth and light cologne make you drift off to sleep your body heavy.

Jayce feels you slump heavier against him and glances down seeing your eyes closed he smiles to himself gently guiding you to lie on his lap instead. Viktor shares his thoughts and gently lifts your feet onto his lap so you’re lying down instead. Jayce sighs and leans his head back against the couch staring at the ceiling, he knows it’s been hard on you to accept this, it’s been hard on all of them, Jayce with being taken away and changed, then the explosion, Viktor practically pronounced dead than changed and now you with magical abilities he’s never seen before. His hand rests on your shoulder absentmindedly tracing random patterns, he wonders why you see those figures in your dreams, they’re definitely the same mages that took him dark blue hooded robes and no faces. He glances at Viktor who’s clenching his jaw a little harshly, his eyes swirling more red than normal, he notices Viktor’s irritableness, the soft snarling or hissing he does the quick snapping nature is unlike him.

“What?” Viktor asks voice low.

“You need to feed” he mutters careful not to wake you.

“Not till I find a solution” Viktor snaps back he’s got one hand resting on your calf the other clenching the armrest of the couch.

“Viktor there is no solution, I offered already” he whispers.

“I said no Jayce, I won’t-“ he breaks off eyes hard.

“You won’t hurt me” he offers softly but it doesn’t sway him.

You sleep well no dreams or strange visions, you wake up to soft snores above you and smile briefly to yourself. You feel Jayce’s thighs under your head and you glance down yourself seeing your feet in Viktor’s lap. He has his eyes closed but he sits up straight, ridged. He must feel you awake because his eyes open and meet yours an intense swirl of red and purple in his eyes his hand gripping your calf a little tighter. You frown at his tense posture and carefully sit up. He doesn’t let you move your feet though, keeps them in his lap.

“Vik?” You ask softly his eyes snapping to yours again. Jayce wakes behind you his hand touching your back instinctively.

“He needs to feed,” Jayce says voice husky from sleep behind you.

“Viktor” you sigh.

“No” Viktor snaps at both of you harsh and firm making you flinch. It feels like a stab and you notice your runes glowing in response to it.

“Viktor you’ll die” Jayce says firmly.

“I won’t let that happen again!” He adds his voice thick with emotion.

“I said you wouldn’t hurt me” his voice is pleading.

“I killed that nurse!” Viktor says harshly.

“Viktor you just woke up, neither of us was there for you,” Jayce says sounding guilty.

“If not him then me,” you say even if the idea scares you, he’s done it before in your dreams.

“Jayce is strong enough to pull you off if it gets too much” you add and Viktor looks at you again. He looks between you and Jayce, eyes calculating before he looks away again.

“I mean you’ve done it once before in my dreams, I felt it” You shrug and his jaw ticks.

“Viktor please, you won’t hurt her, I’ll make sure you won’t” You feel Jayce’s hand move from your back to give your side a gentle squeeze. Viktor sighs running his hand over his face and through his hair.

“You’ll pull me off, you promise?” He asks Jayce.

“I promise,” Jayce says.

“How do we-?” You trail off a bit.

“Lie back” Viktor orders and you flush but nod. You glance to Jayce who gives you a small nod. You wait for him to move off the couch but he doesn’t and you grow embarrassed before lying back in his lap. Viktor moves over you his face hovering above yours you feel your heart racing in your chest your mind going a million miles an hour. You see Viktor’s eyes go more red, his eyes pinpointed to your neck. You tilt your head as he leans closer breath fanning your neck.

It’s the same feeling two pricks of ice in your neck making you gasp and grip his arm. Viktor lets out a rumble that shakes his whole body before he presses closer and sucks harder. You make a small noise feeling a sudden warmth flood your body, your mind going a little hazy. The runes appear again on your skin glowing brightly thrumming with your heart quickly. Viktor lets out a small growl pressing himself impossibly closer again, you feel hazy, and dizzy you grip his arm weakly and let out a small weak moan.

“Viktor” Jayce says but Viktor doesn’t listen.

“Viktor” Jayce growls something more beast than human and Viktor lets go of your neck. He pants heavily and you let out another weak moan at the loss of warmth, only the dizziness and a small throb in your neck left. Viktor swipes his tongue over the two bite marks and it makes your whole body shudder. He stays there a moment and you feel lips press to your neck before he lifts himself to look at your face. You feel embarrassed with how warm you feel now, it feels like you can feel your blood thrumming through his body and your own, the runes on your body pulsing in time with it.

“Are you ok?” Viktor asks worry and you notice the red in his eyes gone, now there normal purples, blues and light reds.

“I’m uh-“ your voice is breathless and you flush furiously at how pathetic it sounds. You clear your throat blink and nod a few times.

“I’m fine, um- water?” You say and Viktor nods getting off you. You sigh in relief sitting up way too fast your head spine.

“Easy,” Jayce says voice a low rumble that makes your body shudder and magic spike.

“Don’t do that” you mutter without thought.

“Do what?” He asks frowning.

“Nothing- don’t worry” You flush and take the cup quickly from Viktor get up on shaky legs and manage to get to your room. You put the glass down before you drop and close your door falling on your bed and panting heavily, your stomach clenches in a need you don’t quite understand and you suddenly feel yourself embarrassingly wet. You just got turned on by Viktor drinking your blood, and Jayce’s voice.

You want to die, you want the world to swallow you up so you don’t have to exist. You drink the water and sigh softly at the coolness. You shake your head furiously muffling your groan into your pillow.

Viktor feels alive, the thrum of your blood in his body. He’d never felt anything like that, it was so much better than the nurse's blood, he could taste the ancient magic in your blood almost like a spice. He lost himself the moment it flowed onto his tongue, your weak little moans made a different hunger flare in him. You gripping him like a lifeline, he had pressed himself close and not close enough he needed more, he needed you shaking around him while he drank you.

“Viktor” he jolts at his name being called. He can feel your arousal with your blood so fresh coursing through him.

“What did you say?” Viktor asks.

“Are you ok?” Jayce says. Viktor thinks it sweet, but that show of power from Jayce forcing him to stop sent a different kind of shudder through his body, the same want and need but for a different person.

“Yes, I am” Viktor nods. He glances to your door your state of arousal slowly lowering.

“Feel better?” Jayce asks and he nods looking to his hands in his lap.

Jayce could smell it, the desire the burning need from both of you. He could’ve moved, could’ve stood by instead of had you lie on his lap while Viktor drank from you, or was for purely selfish reasons. You’d look so peaceful in his lap, you smelt so good like home with a tinge of magic in your veins. When Viktor drank from he felt you warm up, smelt you grow wet from it and it took every ounce of control not to snake his hand between your two bodies and add to the situation. The small moans you let out made something deep and primal in him come out. Watching Viktor shake on top of you, hearing the deep satisfied rumble he let out made his beast purr, he had his hand on Viktor’s neck in case he needed to pull him off, but he also held it there, gently gripping, gently ran his fingers through his growing coffee brown locks which made him shudder even more.

What was happening to you all?

next part ->

#x reader #au #Jayvik x reader #Jayce x reader #Viktor x reader #Jayce x reader x Viktor #Jayvik #werewolf Jayce #vampire Viktor

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amarias-yandere-blog · 9 months ago

Note

Hi! Could I ask how would you think Yan!Aether, Venti and Xiao would react to Reader breaking up with them?

Ah… I am finally going through my inbox. Hello anon. Sorry for the wait.

Let’s see… Aether would most likely be the calmest in terms of actual reaction to it. Especially since he’s constantly traveling, but you’ll likely start receiving anonymous threats and gifts from the corners of Teyvat.

Venti would be smiling on the outside, but on the inside he’s already tethered your soul to his winds, and how can a delicate little thing like you possibly have the strength enough to hold your ground against his resolve, insistence, and the way that he will play his harp on moonlit nights where you’re unable to sleep or dream?

Xiao would be understanding but ask why. If you use his karma or his violence as reason for the breakup, he will be more upset than anything. He will whisper that it’s not HIS fault. He is a YAKSHA. Don’t you WANT him to keep protecting you?

I cannot think rn babes I’m sorry. I hope that this was ok lmao

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere blog #amaria writes #yandere imagines #anon asks #ask #x reader #yandere xiao x reader #yandere xiao #yandere venti #yandere aether #yandere x you

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sillysowa · 1 year ago

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Ok I have a request :) could maybe guess who this is but AHDBSH

The fem reader is a villain while Hobie is the “hero”(not rlly but I forgot what it’s called) that’s been tracking down the reader. But, during the day the both live their normal lives, the readers day job being a barista at the local Cafe. Of course during the night her identity is hidden so she isn’t recognized during the day, which leads to the one morning when Hobie goes to the local coffee shop to order a drink and unknowingly ordering it from his masked nemesis.

What’d ya think? <3

I LOVE your brain anon! Sorry for the wait and if it seems rushed!

BEHIND THE MASK

pairing : hobie brown x fem!prowler!reader

genre : fluff, slightly suggestive

word count : 3k

warnings : violence

authors note : reader is the prowler but i have incredibly minimal knowledge on the prowler lol

synopsis : hobie has a date with a cute barista who just so happens to be the prowler

—

“And what exactly do you think you’re doin?”

Spiderpunk’s agonizing voice cuts through the silence of the night and you freeze in your tracks. You knew he’d find you tonight—always chasing after you like a moth to a flame, or a fly to a spiders web.

He drops down from the wall, thrusting his hands into his pockets and clicking his tongue, his loud boots slapping against the ground behind you,

“What’ya got in that bag of yours? Up to something you shouldn’t be?” He questions, coming right up behind you and whispering next to your ear. You turn around, your hands up as you look at him through your mask,

“Bold of you to assume i’ve done anything, I could just be out for a midnight stroll.” You shrug slyly, toying with him. You know just as well as he does that he could have tried to take you down by now, he’s clearly just wanted a little foreplay as usual.

“Oh, is it now? You’ve got this guilty air about you.” He asks, completely prepared for any attack that you might have up your sleeve, “You really want me to believe a dirty little liar like you, hm?” As he provokes you, his gloved hands reach up to your face only to get smacked away, but he only smiles harder—he expected it. A scoff can be heard from under your mask,

“Miss me, Spiderpunk? You seem awfully excited.” You sneer, voice muffled a deeper more menacing tone. His animated mask portrays his every expression, a squinty smirk plastered on his face,

“How’d you know?” He smirks, coming closer. You flex your fingers, claws baring menacingly before you rip a smoke bomb off your belt and slam it down, making Spiderpunk stumble back before you lunge at him through the cloud. His senses go wild, and he web shoots to the wall, swinging around and pulling his guitar out while you’re down. Your momentum landing you on your knees after he dodged, and you can’t react fast enough for his attack. He’s got his guitar above his head before he slams it down on your back,

“Ah!—Fuck me!” You grumble, rolling over and jumping up, shaking your head with your hands in front of you defensively.

“Only if you ask nicely, gorgeous,” He’s got his guitar out on display as if it’s a sword, making you scoff,

“In your dreams.” Your crack your neck and lunge at him, grunting and swinging wherever you can reach from your stance. You’d never admit it, but his height creeped you out and excited you all at once. Never in a million years would you get with a person like Spiderpunk—a loud, obnoxious, wannabe ‘hero’—but the fact that he towered over you like he did made you nervous in the best way possible. You tried to ignore the feelings deep in your stomach and focus on the way that made you feel about your fighting, afraid that he could overpower you if you let your guard down even slightly—which you did. He had used his fucking guitar pick—the small object somehow slicing your arm. You gasped and he hurriedly backed up, nearly tripping over his feet. At first he was dodging your punches well until you threw a right hook in, your knuckles meeting his jaw with as much force as you could muster,

He had no time to react as he stumbled down. You kicked him across the face and pinned his hands down under your shoes. You knew you had to act fast and get the hell away from him,

“Couldn’t have wined and dined me first?” He quips, his wrists pinned beside his head and his legs spread under you. It’s quite a sight—the city’s hero sprawled out under you like this at your mercy. You shake the thoughts out of your head,

“Catch you later, Spiderpunk.” You rasp, reaching to your belt and popping the cap off a homemade bomb. His eyes triple in size as you throw it, your boot shoving his face down before you flee. He scrambles and slings away before the bomb explodes and the walls surrounding it crumble.

He watches from across the street as the damage ensues, cursing to himself when sees the faint glow of your suit as you disappear into the night. You were such a pain in his ass—but couldn’t keep away.

—

—?” You yell out the name of an order, setting a drink and pastry down. You smile at the customer who walks up and thanks you, giving them a quick smile before returning to the register, swapping out with your coworker,

“Thanks again, Y/N.” They sigh. This isn’t typical behavior from your coworker, they’re typically very hard working but they told you a chunk of their apartment complex was blown up last night. Of course, you had to sympathize with them and help make their shift a little easier—it’s the least you could do after being the unknown cause of their distress.

“Yeah don’t worry about it.” You wipe off your uniform and put on a smile for the customers of the small café you work at. It had been an exhausting shift—only 30 minutes in and it already felt like hell. You looked up ready to give your best customer service voice when your words caught in your throat…

The man in front of you was absolutely breath taking. He had these high cheekbones and pretty eyes, full lips with a ring to compliment them, perfectly styled hair and jewelry all over—god his fashion too. He had this punk rock thing going on, and he was absolutely killing it. Even his body language was attractive, the way his hands were on either side of the table, leaning over slightly to reach your level,

“Mornin’.” He starts, his deep voice only spurring on your attraction towards him, “Could I just get a…” He looks up, biting the inside of his cheek before sighing, “Having a hard time making a choice—wide selection you’ve got. What do you recommend?” He asks with a curious expression, bending down close to hear you over the machinery, clanging dishes, and customer chatter.

You’re stunned, not expecting you’d have to think. After a little stuttering, you can finally think,

“W-Well we have this Persian tea. It’s a black tea base with cardamom and rose petals?” You suggest, your face heating up when he smiles because of course he has the lost beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, “It’s my favorite.” You add, voice coming out oddly quiet and now you’re incredibly embarrassed for reasons you can’t name,

“Sounds perfect, gorgeous.” He eccentrically squints his eyes and shakes his head as he speaks, half lidded eyes locking with yours again.

“And the name for your order?” You ask, tapping in the details on the screen before making eye contact with him,

“Hobie.” And of course, there’s something about the way he says his name that has you melting, but you desperately try to ignore it and pull yourself together. He whips out his wallet and hands you a large bill, your fingers slipping against his as you take it into your hand. You ring him up and gather his change, which he adamantly refuses to take,

“Keep it.” The stunning man winks, walking away and waiting in the line of others who have ordered. For a moment, you stand there completely appalled. When you turn to look at your coworker she’s already staring at you,

“…Oh my god?” She mouths, her hand over her mouth, “You better go make his drink and write your number on his cup, girl—move over i’ve got the register.” She laughs in disbelief, just as flustered as you,

“Thank you, thank you.” You hurriedly giggle, feeling guilty almost at her eagerness before moving out of her way and fumbling around, steeping his tea immediately. You were extra meticulous when crafting his order, wanting it to be just perfect. You caught glimpses of the rockstar-like man over the counter a few times, and almost every time he was already looking at you. You had to bite your lip to fight back the smile that tugged at your lips. When you poured his tea in a cup and clicked the cap on, you pulled out your sharpie and wrote his name messily, scribbling your number under it. With a cheeky smile you set the cup down,

“Hobie?” You call out like you have no idea who he is despite holding eye contact with him. He walks over, pulling a hand out of his pockets and wrapping his long fingers around the cup,

“Thank you, doll.” He rasped, scanning you over one last time when suddenly he squints,

“Y’alright? Doesn’t look like just a little scratch.” He asks you with his eyebrows furrowed, pointing low and squinting in concern. You’re just as confused as he is for a moment, looking down with your heart stopping as you realize it’s the cut from when Spiderpunk sliced you with his guitar pick, the memories of last night flooding into your brain and causing a panic in your nerves, your adrenaline pumping in a flash,

“Oh this? I got this from a clumsy accident the other day, it’s really no biggie.” You brush it off, covering the cut with your hand and cursing internally. You want to hide and never show your face again, the worst possible outcomes clouding your thoughts. He doesn’t seem concerned about your response, taking it for the truth,

“You better be more careful then, yeah?” He playfully chastises, turning to leave, “See y’round, pretty.” And with that, he walks out of the café, humming in delight at the flavors in your favorite drink. He’s almost done with his drink when he finally notices your number on the cup, laughing to himself and freezing in his tracks.

—

You got a call that night after your shift—you knew you would. When you picked up the phone and his deep voice was on the other end you just about melted into your bed.

“Hey, Hobie.”

“Hello, lovely—never got your name.” He mutters on the other end, background shuffling and movements loud enough to reach your ears. He sounds like he’s flipping switches and plugging stuff in,

“It’s, Y/N.” You chirp. Hobie feels a smile take over his face as he learns your name, repeating it a couple times,

“Such a pretty name you’ve got.” He coo’s his voice low and sultry. You smile widely, stupidly giddy over this

stranger,

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He says smugly. On the other side of the phone you can faintly hear what sounds like a guitar, an electric guitar, “How about we go out sometime, yeah? When can I see you?” He asks, his voice charismatic.

You think, caught between wanting to see him tomorrow and wanting to be careful about who sees you that day. Tomorrow you had shady plans, and you didn’t want to get him roped into it, “Hm…it sounds weird but can I see you at nine?” You ask with a questioning tilt in your voice, “I understand it’s late but—“

“No worries, hun, works f’me.” He insists, causing you to sigh in relief.

“Okay great! thank you, Hobie.” You smile, fidgeting with your clothes anxiously. He hums and you feel your heart race,

“See you then, Y/N.”

—

Tonight would be the craziest heist of your life if you could pull it off. Keyword, if.

You didn’t know, but Spiderpunk had been following you the entire night. He had to keep a close watch on you after that stunt you pulled last time. You had somehow managed to outsmart him and he couldn’t let it happen again. You were currently in an alleyway, your pace fast and your head down—you honestly couldn’t look more suspicious as you walked towards the bank.

“Don’t think so.” He mutters to himself, slinging down and following you stealthily. He crept along the walls, keeping a watchful eye on you as you literally sawed open the wall, following close behind.

You on the other hand had a lot of tasks you were juggling all at once—you were texting Hobie telling him you’d see him in 15 minutes, sawing the building open, and watching your back simultaneously.

Spiderpunk, who couldn’t yet see you well enough to notice you were texting with your other hand, jumped when his phone vibrated with a notification. He pulled it out and quickly checked it, his heart racing at your name lighting up his screen. He just had to take you down to make it to the date on time—easy peasy.

He crept into the bank, catching a glimpse of you breaking into all their stashes and safes, literally stuffing cash into your bag. You look rushed and panicked, not as tactful as your usual self. He find it entertaining and comical decided to mess with you a little,

“In a hurry?” That low and taunting voice makes your skin crawl, whipping your head around, fingering tightening on your bag. Of course he was here, how could you have missed him? Or more importantly, how could he have not missed you? You knew it was a shot in the dark to just assume he wouldn’t find you this night as he always does—you bet he has some kind of affinity for you. A gravely sigh tumbles from your lips, shaking your head and slinging your bag over your shoulder,

“Look—I can’t fool around with you tonight, let’s skip the small talk.” You grunt, clicking your claws into readied fists, staring him down with precision. Spiderpunk liked fighting you when you were playful, but there was something about fighting you when you were annoyed that really excited him,

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He teases with a low whistle, webbing towards you feet first. You dodge, grunting and lunging at him, both of you rolling until he’s got you under him, attempting to restrain you. You bring your knees up and kick him off of you, jumping up and circling him. He stares you down for a while, that messy painted mask squinty-eyed,

“Come on.” He sneers, beckoning you with his two, very long, middle fingers suggestively. You laugh at this, lunging at him in a series of calculated movements. He fights you off, throwing out quips and sly remarks to fire you up. You swing at him, your claws out, and he struggles against you when you attempt to stab him with them, pushing your wrists against the wall and grunting through the struggle. You’re shaking under him, hissing and squirming in an attempt to free yourself when he webs you to the wall.

“Fuck! God—“ You groan, frustrated and beyond pissed at what this means for you. Hobie’s face flashes in your brain and you cringe at the idea of standing him up like this,

“Please! Please just let me go this time…” You grunt, the webs holding you down like a barricade as he pulls your bag off you, spilling the contents out onto the floor—your phone, your outfit for the date, and all the money scattered across the cool tile,

“What’s with the dress? Got a date tonight?” He hums, picking up the fancy garment before dropping it back in place when you just scoff. Hobie reaches down to gather up the money when he notices the time on your phone, straightening up and pulling his own phone out,

“Shit—it’s that time already?” You watch as he hurriedly texts someone, his thumbs dancing across the screen. You slump against the wall as much as you can being restrained, sighing in pure frustration when your phone buzzes.

You both freeze—you because you’re deathly embarrassed and Hobie because his heart drops into his stomach. Directly after he sent a text to Y/N, your phone lit up. He looks at you, trying to decode your body language as he bends down and picks up your phone, confirming his suspicions.

Sure enough, there’s a text from him, or ‘Hobie,’ right in the middle of your lock screen. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, laughing to himself with his shoulders shaking in tandem.

You on the other hand are completely and utterly unaware of what just happened, still stuck to the wall and helplessly watching the scene in front of you. He stuff his and your phone into his pocket, muttering something to himself that you can’t quite make out before he walks towards you, the soles of his boots echoing in the dark empty bank,

“What the—why did you take my phone? What are you-“ Your rambles are cut short as his gloved hands come up to your mask, removing it despite your protests. After tossing it to the ground, he simply takes it all in. It’s you, his date—the prowler. You’re obviously still completely oblivious to what’s transpired and therefore furious,

“Answer me asshole! What good is seeing my face gonna do for you?“ And now, it’s your turn to be completely speechless as Spiderpunk pulls his mask off. Hobie’s dark hair springs out, his pretty face glowing in the low light and a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches you swallow the same truth as he did,

“Cant say I was expecting this.” He whispers coyly, eating up the way you instantly grow quiet and flustered, this extra layer added onto your relationship clearly only exciting you more. You gulp nervously, your heart racing at this sudden turn of events,

“Me neither…” You whisper, simply unable to be mad or upset when now you’ve got your cake and you’re about to eat it too.

Hobie doesn’t do much thinking when he unties you and kicks the money aside, or when he tells you to put on that pretty dress and let him take you out properly. You’re completely stunned, staring down at your prowler claws before stuffing them in your bag and walking out the hole you cut into the bank, Hobie waiting against the wall for you,

“So…about all of this?” You awkwardly chuckle, motioning to the bank, the money, and the mess. Hobie being the anarchist he is simply shrugs, extending his palm for yours and clasping it when you place it against his, slinging away into the night to finally go on that date,

“Not my problem.”

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara @hobesbf @defnot-bri

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x you #hobie spiderverse #spiderman #silly’s fics

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minustwofingers · 2 years ago

Text

exoplanet p.1

masterlist

ellie williams x fem! reader (ur kind of a girly girl in this one sorry)

summary: you’re one of the luckiest people in the world as one of the few families that managed to gain entrance to the most exclusive safezone on earth. after living 19 years of your life in a soft and forgiving world, a lab accident sends you across the country to jackson, wyoming, entirely unprepared and unaware of what awaits you in the real world. its a good thing u run into a hot lesbian wink wink nudge nudge

a/n: now listen now hear me out i know this plot sounds kooky asf and im sorry i literally thought this shit up in a covid fever dream. but anyway i basically blacked out at the keyboard and have about 6k words to show for this weekend and no completed hw. i can’t believe im writing. this im so sorry

warnings: ellie is mean asf at first, reader is clueless and cannot do a pushup, you’re also a little bit of a snob and have a fixation on etiquette. i promise it gets better just bear w me lMAO. she/her pronouns for the reader, v vanilla violence and explicit language. kinda enemies to lovers vibe

im so sorry u guys idk what got into me this is the goofiest au i’ve ever written ok but i just want ellie to get to learn abt the stars and shit after all she’s been thru she deserves it ok enjoy part 2 coming whenever i finish it.

wc: 6k

It wasn’t that you didn’t know that something bad had happened to the rest of the world. You did. Of course you did. You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to not realize that there was maybe something else going on when no one was allowed outside of the walls and anyone who returned told hushed stories of decimated buildings and piles of corpses.

It was just difficult to grasp the idea of the world you knew no longer existing outside the bounds of the city. To anyone before the pandemic, you’re sure that you lead what seemed like a normal life for any privileged kid.

You had two parents, both of whom loved you very much. You went to an elementary school, then a middle school, and then eventually high school and university. You went shopping with your friends. You watched movies and ate shitty junk food and had first kisses and went on ice cream dates. You studied what captivated your interest the most—space—and threw your soul into learning about the physics of the universe.

You laid on your dorm bed, playing with the edges of your pink comforter as you gossiped with your roommate, Irena, about the professor that she thought was hot and the boy who tried to harass you for your number after you’d finished up getting lunch.

You lived a normal life, which is pretty ironic, because the only reason you got to say that was because you were born to not-normal people who had been at the right place at the right time when the world fell apart.

You see, when everyone got sick, some areas got hit harder than others. And your parents, who were vacationing in some swanky exclusive Canadian resort that only the elite knew about, happened to hit the jackpot.

Not only was their vacation spot the one area in North America with a significant metropolitan population that managed to get enough time to adequately prepare, they happened to be traveling with some big-wig execs that knew a guy who knew a guy who was in the process of evacuating and putting the final touches on a safe zone, Terranova, intended for only the highest rungs of North American society.

So, there you were. Some 25 years or so after the world as your ancestors knew it fell to shit—and you were sipping cappuccinos and getting facials without a care in the world. All because of a lucky vacation.

And, for the record, it’s not that you were ungrateful. You knew that you were lucky to be living in the last place on earth with a semblance of normalcy. What you didn’t know, however, was just how lucky you were, and you didn’t find this out until you made that one stupid mistake in Gunther’s lab.

“Morning, Y/N!” called out Professor Gunther, a short, squatty man with a receding hairline so impressive that his forehead now ended halfway up his scalp.

“Morning, Professor,” you said, setting your bag down on the desk, winding your long scarf from around your neck and running a hand through your hair to get the tangles out. The wind outside had been especially fierce for February, which was not ideal given that you'd forgotten your hat at home.

“Guess what I’ve got?” Gunther was smiling, his teeth perfect white squares.

You gasped. “No. It’s already here?”

He said nothing; instead, he pushed forward a slightly battered box with dents and various smudges and marks that were telltale indicators for outside shipments.

“No way,” you said, pulling it into your hands. For a moment you debated using your nails to open the seam, but you’d just gotten them done, so you reached for a pair of scissors on the table.

“This is even more than we need,” you told Gunther, reaching in to pull out a spool of wire that shimmered under the lab lights. “Can I just hook it up now? Or is there something else I should do?”

There was, in fact, something that you should’ve done before going with your pliers and wire. Something about your model wasn’t quite right, but you’d figure that out a little too late.

You see, you and old Professor Gunther were attempting to build a prototype that would enable travel at the speed of light. It did sound insane—and you should’ve known that it was a pipe dream—but you were a space nerd with nearly limitless funding and support from one of the most famous surviving professors in the world. It had been Gunther’s pet project, one that you joined as a research assistant in your first year at the university. Once you’d caught wind of it, you couldn’t stay away, and you two quickly began to form a connection only understood by lonely and isolated academics.

“Go for it,” said Gunther, waving his hand dismissively.

Excitedly, you approached the table, your hands almost shaking as you held the wire. It was a fairly new invention, first used in the creation of Terranova and its walls to effectively make it invisible to the outside world. It boasted a variety of properties that made it academically fascinating and functionally useful. Gunther had had a suspicion that it would be useful in stabilizing the process of disseminating atoms to make light speed travel possible, so you’d placed the order for a couple of spools.

“And I think that’s it,” you said, using your pliers to shape the blunt edge that you had just clipped and plugging it into the circuit board. A purple sheen seemed to vibrate around the bundle of wires and boxes.

Gunther leaned over your shoulder, peering at everything through the spectacles perched on his pudgy nose. “Well done, dear. Say, before we turn this thing on and start running some preliminary tests, would you mind grabbing us some tea from the caf? My treat.”

“Of course,” you said, standing up and brushing your hands off. “Lapsang?”

He nodded. “And anything you’d like.”

You pulled my scarf back on, pulling it snugly around your neck and snatching your bag from the table. The walk to the cafeteria was short, but it was cold enough to require suiting up again. You ordered, paid with Gunther’s card, and sat quietly as you watched the snow fall outside.

It was a beautiful morning. The wind had died down, leaving the snow to fall from the gray skies in fat, puffy flakes. The city outside was quiet, with only the gentle hum of the occasional car to break the silence.

“Y/N! A Lapsang Souchong and a Jasmine Green?”

You leapt up and grabbed the two disposable cups, smiling widely at the barista. “Hey, would you mind throwing a bag of coffee in too?”

“Anything specific?” he asked.

“I don’t know anything about coffee,” you admitted. “Anything that isn’t decaf. It’s for my roommate.”

He nodded and rang you up for the coffee, and you were back on your way.

“My dear!” boomed Gunther when you came back, throwing the lab door open and nearly floating off the ground in excitement.

“Lapsang with a spot of honey, as always,” you said, passing the cup into his hands. The bite from the heat slowly faded from your palm—the barista had forgotten to put a sleeve on his cup.

“Lovely,” he said, setting it down next to you. “I’m just going to go ahead and flip the switch…keep your wits about you! Haha.”

“Ha,” you said, though suddenly you were getting more nervous. The longer you looked at the wires, the less sense they made. And was that two uncovered wires touching? ”Hey, wait, actually—”

Click.

A hum filled the room as the power flicked on. The bright white overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then went out. Something that smelled suspiciously like smoke filled the room.

“Fuck!” Gunther fumbled for the switch. You, similarly, lunged forward to see if you could manually disconnect the wires from the input. “It’s short circ—”

As soon as you made contact with the input wire, you heard the sound of a cup tipping over seconds before the splashing of hot tea.

Then everything went black.

When you awoke, it was because you were shaking so hard that your teeth were clicking painfully together.

Slowly, you pulled open my eyelids to see a brilliantly blue sky without a cloud in sight, wide and unimpeded by any skyscrapers. This was definitely not Gunther’s lab.

You groaned as feeling began to return to your body, along with a thudding headache and soreness in every joint. Gently, you pressed your weight into your fingers and slowly sat yourself up, making observations as you went.

You were not dead. Your heart was still beating and your nerves still functioned as usual. You had no idea how long you'd been lying on the ground, but it had to have been at least an hour given that the sun was almost in the middle of the sky.

Another observation: you were nowhere near Terranova.

Instead, you were in the clearing of a forest, surrounded by trees with unfamiliar trunk patterns and leaves. A thick bed of white snow coated everything in sight except for you.

You were well and truly fucked. There was nowhere even remotely nearby the city that you knew was in a fully forested area.

Though at least now you held the title of the first person alive to travel at light speed. It was a small comfort, but it was something to cling to.

A shriek sounded behind you, and you spun around, still seated on the ground. The forest line was clear, but you could hear rustling. For a moment you considered that it could be an animal, but it didn’t sound like any woodland creature. It sounded unmistakably human.

“Hello?” you called out.

The shriek came again, accompanied by more crunching—both much closer this time.

“Are you alright?” you asked, hoping your voice would carry to whoever it was. “Are you hurt?”

A mangled man suddenly came into sight as he fell into the clearing from a lopsided sprint, barreling right towards you. One of his knees was bent outwards as he went, so badly it looked broken, but it wasn’t enough to slow him down as he ran towards you.

You screamed, a real and proper one that pierced the frigid air. There was no time for to run as the man closed the gap and rammed into you, his filthy hands gripping your arms through your heavy jacket as his snapping teeth and rancid breath lunged for your neck.

Bang!

A single shot rang out. The man fell limp, slumping on top of you as you frantically snapped into motion and scrambled out from under him.

“Who the fuck are you?”

You whipped back around to see a girl standing at the other side of the clearing, a revolver in her hand and an incredibly cross expression etched into her features. She must’ve been around your age, and she had short auburn hair that barely brushed her shoulders and was being tossed about by the wind. There was a spattering of freckles across her face, muted against the backdrop of her cheeks reddened from exertion.

“Hi,” you said, your voice small and pathetic. You couldn’t stop shaking. “I’m Y/N.”

The girl just stared at you for a few more beats before turning back. “Jesse! Dina! Some help?”

You pulled your knees into your chest as you waited for whatever was to come. Now that the man was off of you, you could see that there was blood trickling from his gaping maw. Something that looked almost like shards had sprouted, like little spring buds, in little areas around his face. Even his normal, unshard-ed skin was a pallor that looked like death. Something wasn’t right here.

“Okay,” said the girl, gruffer this time. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are just waltzing in like this, but this isn’t open to the public, alright? You’re trespassing.”

“Sorry,” you said, shrinking further into yourself as you thumbed the edges of your scarf. “I didn’t know.”

“Get the hell out of here,” she said, grabbing your backpack from the ground near her feet and throwing it at you.

Two other people emerged from the trees, another girl and one guy. They all seemed roughly the same age—early 20s, maybe—and were all carrying various weapons ranging from guns to knives.

To say you were on edge would be the understatement of the century.

They spoke in hushed tones as they approached the first girl.

“I don’t understand,” the other girl said, long black locks escaping from her ponytail. “We literally just patrolled this area. There’s no way to get here without either going through the town or going over the pass, and no one’s done that.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t see her then?” The boy looked curiously at you.

“Fucking obviously,” snapped the first girl. “I think we would’ve noticed.” Then, directed at you: “Hey. How’d you even wind up here?”

“Uh….” Your mouth became dry. “Where am I again?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t even know?”

“Ellie,” warned the other girl. “Maybe she’s been out here for a while. Hypothermia can make you think crazy things.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s been out here for long,” pointed out the first girl, presumably Ellie.

“You’re right outside Jackson,” said the other girl helpfully.

“How close am I to Terranova?”

“The fuck is Terra-whatta?” Ellie frowned at you.

“Where I live,” you said. “I—I’m a student there. I was working on a project and something went wrong and then all of a sudden I woke up here and—what is that thing?” You gestured frantically at the limp body of the man beside you, the shock slowly subsiding as reality set in. “He almost killed me!”

Ellie gaped at you along with her two friends. “What do you mean, what is that thing? Have you never seen a runner before?”

“A runner?” You stared back. “These things are normal enough for you to have a name for them?”

“Oh my god,” said Ellie, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Have you, like, never been outside before?”

“No,” you said, honestly. “I’ve never left the city walls.”

“We have got to take her back with us,” said the other girl.

“Dina.” Ellie scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Dina’s right,” said the guy, finally chiming in. “We can’t just leave her out here. She doesn’t even know what a runner is. She’s gonna be killed like that.”

Ellie considered, gnawing her lip. “Fine. Consider this your lucky day, Y/N. Get up.”

The first thing you did upon reaching your feet was faint once again.

“I told you, Joel, we just found her like this! Lying on the ground, with nothing but her bag.”

A man said something that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Yes. I went through it. No weapons, just…weird things. Like this.”

Your eyes snapped open to see Dina rooting around in your backpack, pulling out your laptop. You were laid horizontally on a table in some warmly lit home.

“Hey!” you said. She turned around, along with a tall, buff man at her side. “Be careful with that. That has all my homework on it.”

“See?” Dina whispered. “Do you think she hit her head or something, Joel?”

Joel frowned, picking up your laptop despite your protests. “I haven’t seen one of these in…I can’t even remember how long. And I’ve never seen one this slim before. Where’d you say you got this, er…”

“Y/N,” Dina supplied.

“From my university,” you said. There was a fire that crackled somewhere behind you, and it sounded comforting. “They provide all students with laptops. That’s how we do most of our schoolwork.”

“Let me guess,” said Joel. “You from the North? A place called Terra Something?”

“That’s a real thing?” Ellie came from around the corner, standing with her arms crossed. She’d changed out of her heavy winter coat and was instead wearing a dark gray hoodie with the strings tied into a bow.

“Never been there myself,” he said. “But when I was doing supply runs back in Boston we always heard whispers of a safezone in Canada. For rich assholes who had some even richer survivalist friends. The Fireflies attempted to break in for years, but they could never find it.”

“So, like a QZ?” asked Ellie, looking genuinely curious.

“What’s a QZ?” you asked. No one acknowledged it.

“Not quite,” said Joel. “No FEDRA. With no military presence, I’m sure it was a hell of a lot cushier living there. Wasn’t it, Y/N?”

“I don’t have anything to compare it to,” you said. “But, yeah. I guess it was nice. It was just normal, I guess. Nothing extraordinary.”

“You’re wearing a cashmere scarf,” Joel pointed out. “That’s not what I’d call normal in the apocalypse.”

You blushed, pulling at the fringes of said black scarf. The fabric was thin and soft, impossibly warm against your bare neck. “It didn’t—it doesn’t feel like the apocalypse in Terranova.”

“And how’d you make it all the way out here?”

“I’m a research assistant for a professor attempting to invent travel at the speed of light,” you said. “We just hooked it up to a different wire today. It short-circuited and when my professor and I rushed to shut it off, he spilled his tea on me and the prototype. Next thing I knew, I woke up here.”

Joel blinked. “What now?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” you said, defensively pulling your knees to your chest. “But I’m telling the truth, honestly. Plus, look at me.” You let go of your scarf and held out your hands, letting the glow of the fire catch the immaculate pearl polish on your fingers. “Do I look like someone who’s traveled from Canada to wherever I am now?”

“She’s got a point,” said Dina, nodding thoughtfully. “It really must be nice where you come from to have hands like that. It doesn’t look like you’ve done a day of work in your life. Reckon you could take us back with you?”

Joel sent her a stern look. “What did you parents do to gain access to a place like that? You the daughter of the president or something?”

“No. They just got lucky,” you explained. “They were summering in Canada and happened to befriend the founders of Terranova right before outbreak day.”

“‘Summering’,” repeated Joel. “It’s been a while since I heard someone use a season as a verb. Somehow it’s not been long enough.”

You cringed.

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s a little disappointing to hear that folks like your parents are still living in the lap of luxury, even after the world ended,” said Joel. “A part of me hoped that karma would get ‘em.”

“I didn’t realize how bad it was out here,” you said defensively. “They didn’t even tell me about…what was that that tried to kill me out there? Walkers?”

“Runners,” Ellie supplied. She watched you quietly from her position leaning up against the couch.

“You ran into one?” asked Joel, another wrinkle appearing in his forehead. “Ellie, have you checked her for bites?”

Ellie’s freckled face paled as she swore. “Fuck. No, I forgot. I should’ve done it in the clearing.”

“Well, better now than never. Listen, I gotta meet up with Tommy. You check ‘er. You got a gun ready, just in case?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, looking thoroughly scandalized. “What do you mean, just in case?”

“I’ll be outside,” said Dina, following Joel as he left the door.

“How come it’s my job?” Ellie called after them. “No one asked me how I felt about this!”

The door banged shut in reply. She turned back to face you, her lips set into a firm line. “Fine. Take your coat off. Let’s make this quick.”

“I didn’t feel anything bite me,” you said, grabbing your knees tighter to your chest. Ellie was intimidating and scary, and you rather liked how you currently wore an extra layer of protection.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say.” She walked over to you, grabbing your scarf and unwinding it from your neck. “Shit. Is this what Joel called cashmere?”

“Yeah,” you said, watching as she stared at the fabric pooled in her hands. “It’s nothing special, really. Everyone wears them in Terranova.”

Ellie stared at you. “Can you stop saying Terranova? I swear it’s every third word that comes out of your mouth. I honestly couldn’t give a shit about whatever fantasyland you grew up in while the rest of us dealt with the real world.”

You opened your mouth, then thought better of it and closed it. It was discombobulating to hear a stranger swear so often at you.

Ellie knocked your hands from your knees and stared down at you. “Are you actually gonna make me take off everything myself? Do they have hired help to unzip your coats in Terra Novella?”

“Terranova.”

Ellie let out a sharp sigh, then lunged for the zipper near your throat.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you said, yanking yourself away and pulling your zipper down to reveal your standard lab outfit—a satiny button up shirt tucked into slacks. You pulled the rest of your puffer off, letting it drop in a pile next to you.

“So,” you said as Ellie grabbed your arm, gently rolling up the fabric of your blouse and turning your forearm back and forth, “Is this, like, a normal thing? To have deranged people in the woods attack you like that?”

“They’re not people,” she said quietly. Satisfied with your left arm, she moved to the next and let your unbuttoned sleeve fall. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Ellie’s fingers encircled your right wrist as she fiddled with your sleeve. They were warm as they brushed across your skin, just barely touching you. “You really don’t know? I thought you at least knew about outbreak day.”

“Of course I know about outbreak day,” you said defensively. “I’m not stupid.”

Ellie arched a brow.

“They told us that it was a virus,” you added. “That it was lethal and incredibly infectious. Is that not what happened?”

“It’s not a virus, it’s a fungus,” corrected Ellie, letting go of your sleeve and stepping back as you redid the buttons at your wrist. “And it doesn’t just kill. It turns you into—into something like what you saw today. You lose your mind. The only thing that matters to you is biting everyone and spreading the infection.”

“Oh.”

“I saw you get tackled. Did your legs get scratched up at all?”

“No,” you responded, feeling thankful that you wouldn’t need to take your pants off. In that moment, literally nothing seemed more embarrassing. Your hands had begun to shake again.

“Didn’t think so.”

“If it had bitten me, would that mean that I…I would get sick too?”

“Nice going, Sherlock,” said Ellie, returning to her spot against the couch. “Really stellar reasoning skills there.”

You pulled your knees back into your chest, the gravity of the situation sinking in. All this time you’d thought it was just a virus—a measly virus that killed. That it could be anything else had never occurred to you.

“Keep shaking and I’m going to start to think that you were bitten.” She smiled thinly at you from across the room.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your teeth bouncing against each other once before you clenched your jaw. “Please cut me some slack. This is just a lot to take in. If you’ll recall, I’ve just been the first person in history to undergo atomic dissolution and reassembly. It’s a wonder I’m still alive.”

“Welcome to the club,” said Ellie, her eyes narrowed. “It’s a wonder any of us are alive.”

Your lips pressed tightly together as you sat, trying your best not to lose it at her. You’d always been brought up to be kind, to be forgiving and sweet and polite. After all, there was never any reason not to be. Terranova’s culture put a heavy emphasis on keeping the peace no matter what. Your parents rarely ever raised their voices. Your professors kindly and respectfully asked their pupils to settle down if they were too noisy, but since you were all brought up with impeccable manners, such instances were few and far between. It just wasn’t a thing to chew strangers out. Such behavior was only reserved for extraordinary situations of the like you’d never experienced. Speaking of manners…

“Thank you,” you said, finally. Yeah, you could be the bigger person.

Ellie’s gaze snapped up to you, her brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“For saving me,” you clarified, avoiding her eyes. They were uncomfortably piercing. “Sorry. I should’ve thanked you earlier. That was rude of me. And I’m also sorry for just barging in here. I promise it wasn’t on purpose. Trust me, I would do anything to be back home right now.”

“I bet you would.” Her eyes dropped briefly to your hands, unblemished and smooth as they clutched your knees. Not even a cuticle was out of place, a result of your weekly manicures and daily lotion habit.

“Sorry,” you said again, feeling heat rise in your cheeks once again. “I probably sound so insufferable and spoiled to you.”

“Just—” She paused, frowning. “Just stop apologizing. It’s fine. It’s not your fault, or whatever.” The words seemed to pain her.

“What’s a QZ?” you asked. Now that you’d had a moment to draw in a few deep breaths, your hands were steady once again.

“Quarantine Zone,” said Ellie. “Established by what was left of the government for those of us normal people. There are a couple scattered around the country in the big cities.”

“Did you live in one? What’re they like?”

She was about to answer when the door banged open.

“Ellie!” Dina’s voice was breathless. “Joel wants me and you to go out and finish the patrol route together. She alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, hanging your legs off the table and reaching for your puffer.

“God, I fucking love that shirt,” said Dina. “Can I touch it? It looks so soft.”

You had a feeling that you would get on well with her. “Sure.”

“It’s not that soft,” said Ellie from the couch.

“Shut up, Ellie!” Dina walked over to you, grabbing the dangling fabric from your loose sleeves and letting it thread through her fingers. “Sorry about her, Y/N. She’s just like that sometimes.”

“Dina!”

Dina ignored Ellie’s protests, giving you a look full of mirth as she stepped back. “For the record, it was that soft.”

“You couldn’t wear it anywhere,” argued Ellie. “It looks ridiculous. Infected would just snag right onto the sleeves. That’s only if you didn’t get tangled up in a tree from all that loose fabric first.”

“There’s not an abundance of trees or sick fungus people in my research lab,” you said awkwardly. “So that’s not really something that crossed my mind when I got ready this morning.”

“Ha!” Dina’s eyes scrunched. “Ellie, be nice. Maybe she’ll claim us both as her long-lost sisters and get us into wherever she came from, but she’s not gonna if you keep acting like this.”

“It’s okay,” you said, shrugging. “I get it. I can’t even begin to imagine how much different your lives are out here. And, I mean, I probably could if you wanted. I’m pretty sure that all you need is a connection and a negative test for whatever the fungus is called.”

“See?” Dina gestured towards you. “Listen to her. She’s so wholesome.”

“I’d be wholesome too if I led the kind of life where I didn’t know about the infected and got to wear dumb shirts like that all day.”

Dina huffed. “Listen, Y/N, Ellie and I are gonna finish up with patrolling. I’m assuming you want to stay in Jackson until you figure everything out?”

You nodded. “If that’s alright. I don’t mean to impose.”

“We’ll talk to Maria and Tommy once we get back and see about getting you set up somewhere temporarily,” said Dina. “For now, you can just stay at Ellie’s until we finish up. Sound good?”

“Dina!” protested Ellie. “You’re just gonna leave her here unattended without even asking me?”

“What’s she gonna do? Ransack the town? With what weapon, Ellie? Her bare hands? She looks like she’d be blown over if I breathed too hard in her direction.”

You flushed. Sure, you’d never really seen much of a point of bulking up and working out when you were nothing but a student who spent all of her time goofing off with wires and telescopes, but it was humbling to have it pointed out so blatantly.

“She wouldn’t make it a day outside,” continued Dina. “I don’t think she’s stupid enough to try anything. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You blinked. “I mean, yeah. I’ve never spent a day without electricity and hot running water, so I’m not really clambering to leave and live in the woods.”

Ellie sighed sharply. “Fine. Cool. Whatever. Just stay where you are, okay? And don’t even think about touching anything.”

By the time that she returned with Joel, you were sitting at the table, 2 chapters deep into the one textbook you’d brought along with you for one of your courses.

“Glad to see the house still standing,” Joel quipped as he worked his heavy coat off his shoulders and pulled his boots off. Ellie trailed behind him, hanging up her coat and pulling off a pair of black gloves. “Ellie was concerned you’d raze the whole town.”

“I’m honored that she thinks me so capable,” you said in response, wincing as you had to dogear your textbook, your bookmarks and sticky notes tucked safely in your dorm desk far away.

Ellie sent you an irritated look before her gaze dropped to the textbook in your lap. It lingered for a moment, just long enough for you to know that she was reading the title Exoplanetary Systems.

“Tommy and Maria have decided to let you stay until you get back on your feet,” said Joel, oblivious to the hostility coming from Ellie. “There’s a cottage down the street that’ll be ready for you to move into soon. For now, you can stay with us. There’s an extra room across the hall from Ellie’s.”

“That’s too kind of you,” you said, your voice smooth and gracious after years of having your manners picked apart by your parents.

Joel looked mildly uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah. Don’t mention it. You know how to ride a horse?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Good,” said Joel. “Can you shoot, too?”

You stared. “Uh, shoot what?”

“A gun,” said Ellie slowly. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her mouth contorted into a scowl. She did not seem overjoyed at the prospect of a new housemate.

“No,” you said. Your ears felt like they were on fire. “There’s, uh, a strict ban on guns in Terr–where I grew up. There was no reason to shoot anything.”

Joel whistled. “Well, imagine that. So maybe we won’t put you on patrol just yet. We’ll find something else for you to do. Got any other skills?”

Before you answered, Joel picked up your bag and peered inside of it. “Say, is this a bag of coffee?”

He pulled out the bag of coffee grinds that you’d picked up at the cafe.

“Yeah!” you said. “Before the, uh, accident, my professor sent me to get him tea from the cafeteria. I ended up picking those up since my roommate and I were out. You drink coffee?”

“Not much anymore,” said Joel, picking up the bag and weighing it back and forth. “It’s hard to come by out here. You have to pay an arm and a leg to get just a bit. I haven’t seen a bag like this since before the outbreak.”

“It’s yours,” you said quickly. “I don’t even really like coffee. I just drank it because my roommate would make me a cup.”

Joel shook his head and placed it back in your bag. “No, I couldn’t do that. I’d probably have to trade my whole arsenal plus a horse to get something this big.”

“Please, I insist,” you said. “It’s the least I can do. It’s just going to sit in my bag anyway. You’d appreciate it more.”

“Well…” Joel gave you a considering look. “I s’pose this could cover your work for a few weeks until either we find another job for you or Ellie teaches you to shoot.”

“Joel!” Ellie interjected. “I have my own shit to do.”

“That’s really generous of you,” you said, smiling at Joel. “But you could honestly just take the bag—no need to offer any reimbursement.”

Joel grunted and picked the bag up again, slinging it onto the counter behind him. “Maria’s never gonna believe me until she sees this. Full bag of monsoon malabar…didn’t even think they had that shit anymore…” He continued to mumble to himself as he shuffled around, opening and closing cabinets behind you.

When you looked back up, Ellie was staring again at your book, a line in her brow.

“You can borrow it, if you’d like.” You pushed the book towards her as a poor attempt to call a truce between you two. “It’s not like I actually need to do the reading anymore. I’m already missing lecture.”

You winced at the thought of getting behind in your classes. In the very likely case you weren’t getting back in the next few days, you’d probably need to take a gap semester and return in the fall, delaying your graduation date another 4 months. Your parents were going to kill you. This was going to create an unfillable hole in your resume. “Shooting a gun” and “riding horses” were not acceptable activities to explain away why you took a whole season off.

“No thanks,” said Ellie, pushing it back to you. “Keep it. I don’t want it.”

“It’s about solar systems outside of our locale,” you continued. “There’s a bunch of them. It’s actually really interesting.”

“It doesn’t really sound like it,” she said, but there was no venom behind her voice—just something that sounded like exhaustion.

“Maybe not.” You sighed, deflated. So much for a white flag. “I guess it must seem pretty ridiculous to you.”

Ellie stood there, her arms still crossed and her frown deep. “Joel,” she said, speaking over your shoulder, “I’m going out. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” said Joel. You could hear him bustling around in what you assumed was a kitchen, filling a kettle with water and lighting the gas top stove.

When you turned back around, Ellie was already out the door, coat slung over her arm as she shut it.

Before the door closed entirely, her eyes snapped up to meet yours like she knew you’d been watching her.

She was gone before you had the chance to lift your hand to wave goodbye.

again apologies for this if you’ve made it this far. please confiscate my laptop. part 2 coming soon (?) if u want also im not an astrophysics student im a thickheaded cs student who barely survived ap physics so im sorry if i’m doing a disservice to the academic field of astronomy idk shit about it

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams self insert #ellie williams x y/n

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