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fangisms · 9 months

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wish it on your worst enemy

A/N: if you see me butchering british slang 🤨 it never happened 🤫

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. It’s only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words

Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? ‘enemies’ to lovers but really idiots to lovers

George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.

You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.

"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mental—nothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.

"Calm down! He’s still alive isn't he?" he says.

"Not for long if I have anything to say about it—"

"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"

"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.

"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.

"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.

Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.

"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.

"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"—Fred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brother—"I mean friends... to it."

You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.

"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.

"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."

She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.

"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as well—"

"Oh, George—! He's not my..."

"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.

"May I ask... what became of him?"

"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"

You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.

"You just have to love ‘em while you can."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.

You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.

"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like it’s a secret, nose scrunched like there’s anyone else within earshot.

How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.

He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.

Eight minutes later, you’re tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.

George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.

"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform today—"

"George!"

The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he took a bludger’s hit. You’re bloody distracting. Even when you’re not around.

“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, she said—"

"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?” he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.

You look down and gape at the mess.

"There was a tear in—when you fell, the bottom—there was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."

He blinks. If he wasn’t completely crushing on you before, it’s safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.

"That's adorable," he warbles.

You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.

“Well, you can’t very well play with a rip in your uniform!"

"No. No, of course not,” he mumbles, “Silly me.”

Usually, you’d mock him. You’d call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.

"Well!” he chirps, “Don’t let me bother you, I’ll just be lying here."

"But Pomfrey—"

"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,” he says, “Please.”

Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.

But he’s back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. It’s incredibly endearing.

"You're very beautiful."

Daggers. “Shut up.”

He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."

"Gee, thanks, Weasley,” you huff, “Do you want this stitch fixed or not—"

"Don’t get your dear panties in a twist, I’m only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while I’m too ill to make fun of you properly?"

But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, he’s awful.

"Quit staring."

"Sincerest apologies."

You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.

"Why don’t I just tell Madam Pomfrey—"

"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason I’m in this mess,” George mumbles.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."

"Be serious, Weasley—"

"I am! You’ve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless I’m thinking of you."

"That's not fair!" you say.

"No, it’s not," he huffs, "I love you."

Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlin’s sake! Do you love him?

"You're being idiotic—”

"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mind—"

"George, quit it,” you say.

"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, and—"

"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"

Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.

And he’s smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And you’re back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. You’ve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.

You groan.

"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."

He shrugs. "I am crazy…"

"Do not—"

"… Crazy in love."

"I hate you"

"I know."

You look at him. And he’s looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.

"George,” you sigh, “you have to stop getting hurt."

He nods curtly. "Okay. I’m sorry."

You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.

"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.

"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,” he says.

"Good. And if it does, then—"

"Then I’ll quit the team.”

"What!"

"I’ll do it. I’ll quit for you. I’ve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."

Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.

"Now,” he sighs, “would you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"

"Oh, so you won a kiss.”

"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."

"Fine, whatever, only because you think I’m beautiful.”

You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While you’re being so careful, he’s straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.

"Nope! I’m getting Pomfrey!"

"One peck! Swear, I won’t move an inch!"

"Madam, he's awake!”

"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.

"You're horrible, and you torture me. You don’t love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low

"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why I’m so horrible."

He grumbles something under his breath.

Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.”

You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"

"And let me be your boyfriend,” he pleads.

"Well, what else would you be?"

"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.”

“George Weasley, you’re a fool,” you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Yes, I am. A fool who loves you very much.”

“Sap.”

masterlist

#george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fluff #fluff #fanfic #x reader #x fem!reader #fanfiction #hp universe #enemies to lovers

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ceilidho · 4 months

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I genuinely can't stop thinking about butcher Ghost like the feral horny grip it has on me is just too big for me to let it go. I want him so badly. It's so easy for him to pick you up, like you weigh absolutely nothing, fingers clutching at your jaw, firm but not hard enough to bruise. He ruts his cock against you as he coos at you. "Gonna sing sweetly for me like a good bird, yeah?" I'm foaming at the mouth, I want him so badly.

oh god I know, I think about him all the time. something about him working with these big cuts of meat and hefting them around like they're nothing just emphasizes the sheer physicality and size of him as well. i've never been able to visualize him as well as I can standing behind the counter in his white, slightly bloodstained apron. he'd come over to your house after work with supper and sit you on his lap and feed you from his hands while nursing a whiskey. Simon's a bit too rough with you at first because he's used to using his full strength at work, so whenever he sees you wince when he grabs you, he has to apologize and coo at you like a little bird.

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user2772636 · 4 months

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Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

After the incident, things take a turn for both better and worse. All with that, gym class has turned the school into a zoo. When people can't take their eyes off of what's yours, you take their ability to see. What an ironic thing for a one-eyed boy to set his mind to.

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Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: injury, teen boys being teen boys, jealousy (there's a small love triangle in this chapter)

===

Chapter two: My eye only

===

I stand next to Simone, waiting a few feet away from the butcher's for Michèle. I rummaged through my bag, making sure everything I needed for gym class was with me.

Simone rubs her thigh next to me. I smack her arm lightly.

"Stop touching it. You're going to make it worse." I say and she stops.

"It's going to be so embarrassing when we go to gym class. What if the love of my life will be there, and they see me with this ugly bruise on my thigh? First impressions are important. This bruise is gonna mess it up." Simone sighs anxiously.

"I don't think you'll meet the love of your life in a room full of sweaty, teenage boys. Plus, I think you've already met him. 3 o'clock." I nod my head towards Jean Pierre, walking out of the butcher's side door.

She greets him, and he only looks at her. I nod as a greeting. He only glances at me, too.

After a while, Michèle follows after him, closing the door.

"What's going on?" Simone asks Michèle. I greet her good morning. She smiles and greets me.

"He has a disciplinary hearing this afternoon." Michèle says, worried a little. We start to walk.

"There's nothing you can do. Stop worrying. Know what else is today? Our first gym class." I nod in agreement.

"Guess what?" I already knew the answer to that question, and roll my eyes.

"I fell this morning. I'm going to have a huge bruise." Simone whines.

××《☆》××

We are walking through the gate when Simone greets two girls.

"You already know everybody's name?" Michèle asks, impressed. I nod to the girls Simone greeted.

"Not everybody. Just the girls." Simone smiles at Michèle.

"I hope we don't do endurance classes. Do you sweat a lot?" She turns her head. "Hi, Laubrac." She turns back to us. We hear Laubrac say hi, too. Michèle also greets him.

"Why did you say hello to him?" Michèle asks Simone.

"Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Michèle?" I tease her, smiling at her now flustered state. Simone laughs.

"No. Why would I be jealous?" Michèle says defensively.

"Don't worry. I'm just teasing. But I see the way you look at him. Did something happen in detention that I don't know about...?" I tease further.

Her face turns red like a tomato. Me and Simone laugh more.

"Whatever. Moving on, I swear, if my brother gets kicked out..." She shakes her head.

"He won't." Simone reassures with a knowing tone in her voice.

"Don't you remember Descamps? He took his eye out." Michèle exclaims. I feel myself gag, remembering the incident.

"Fine. But you know what's good?" Simone asks her.

"Don't say he still has one eye." Michèle says before Simone could answer her own question.

"Descamps is recuperating at home, so the teachers aren't seeing him. But they are seeing your brother." Simone says matter-of-factly.

"Your brother with his perfectly combed hair, good grades, nice manners." She's totally in love with him, it's obvious.

"People are thinking about him. No one's thinking about the one-eyed boy." We look in front of us to see everyone looking towards the gate. We turn around, and my heart drops to my stomach.

In all his glory, Joseph Descamps stands, had just walked through the gate. He looks the same as the day I last saw him, only now with a bandage on his eye and the glint of sun in them gone.

××《☆》××

Heels clack against the hardwood floor, making it creak.

My eyes travel to a familiar mop of ash brown hair. He turns his head, and I'm lost in a trance, unable to look away.

I was right. There was no brightness in his eyes (or eye) anymore. His stare felt blank, unreadable. He continues to stare, and that's when I snap back to reality and look away.

I still feel his eye on me for a few seconds, and then he goes to turn his head. Though his stare felt cold, without it, I felt colder.

"Can someone give me the dates of the Battle of the Marne?" Annick and a boy raise their hands.

"Mr Felbec?" Ms. Giraud says, and Felbec stands up.

"September fifth to the twelfth, 1914." Felbec answers. As I watch Felbec, I feel a pair of eyes on me. They're framed, but not Descamps.

It's the blonde boy. Applebaum was his name. He's decent looking, tall, sharp nose, but not so sharp sight. I look at him, and he looks away hurriedly.

Ms. Giraud gives a slow nod. "And who were the opposing armies?" Annick jumps in her seat, trying to get Ms. Giraud's attention. It certainly caught mine.

"Ms. Sabiani, are you going to jump on the desk for me to see you?" Ms. Giraud walks over to her. "Don't you think you have enough attention as it is?"

Is she jealous of Annick? Her beauty? Her youth? Her knowledge? It seems like it. Annick slowly drops her hand.

"The opposing armies." Ms. Giraud lets Annick answer.

"The French and the Germans." Annick answers.

"And the British Expeditionary Force. Don't raise your hand if you only know half the answer." Ms. Giraud adds on, rather cockily. Imagine bullying your student for your own benefit.

As she walks to her desk, she talks again. I might go deaf. "And please tie your hair back. This isn't a party. Okay, we'll talk more about the Battle of Marme tomorrow."

I feel Descamps turns his head to me again. I look, and I'm still met with an emotionless eye. He maintains it, but I waver and look away.

"Let's move on to naming our class leader." This catches my attention. Felbec raises his hand again. Ms. Giraud calls his name. When I turn to look at him, Applebaums eyes are stamped on me. I ignore his stare and shift in my seat.

"My classmates have always picked me as their class leader." Felbec tells Ms. Giraud. The class laughs. "I'm studious and get good grades." He adds, standing upright.

I still feel Applebaum's eyes on me. I glance at him and smile softly. He smiles back, a blush coating his cheeks. He's cute. I return my attention to the two people standing.

"Well, I'm not like your previous teachers, Felbec. You'll have to earn it." Ms. Giraud says with a smile. It doesn't fit her. Felbec sits back down.

"Does the Battle of Marathon mean anything to anyone?" Ms. Giraud asks the class. No one answers.

"I see. Whoever can give me the date of the Battle of Marathon this afternoon will be named class leader." Too bad I don't know the date. I sigh, not too bothered.

Unbeknownst to me, Descamps glares at the back of Applebaum's head and will do so the rest of the day.

××《☆》××

Me and Michèle wait for Simone to come back. She does after a while. We hear fast and light footsteps on the stairs. She sits in between us.

"So, I was right. There's a massive bruise on my thigh." She makes an O shape with her hand. We lean in to see. I make a hissing noise, feeling bad.

"What if I meet the love of my life today? Like tonheston. I see him. He sees me. We fall in love. And then bam. He sees my bruise." Simone fades into her thoughts. I shake my head, chuckling.

"I already told you. I don't think any of those boys are going to be the love of your life. Besides, don't you have a thing for-"

Simone cuts me off by putting a hand on my mouth. She gives me a wide-eyed look, nodding towards Michèle. I realise what could've slipped past my tongue and mouth 'sorry'.

Michèle looks at both of us confused, but before she could say anything, Jean Pierre walks out the school's doors. He looks at Michèle with a glare.

"Are you okay?" Michèle asks worriedly.

"Ask me again after the hearing." Jean Pierre replies coldly. I chill at his tone.

"He'll be fine. You'll see." Jean Pierre's friend reassures Michèle. They walk away.

"Fingers crossed, Jean Pierre. Good luck." Simone calls out. I give her a knowing look, and she gives me a look of desperation. I raise my hands as if to say fine.

I look to the side, and I see Applebaum. I wave to him. He waves back. When I look away, I see him through my peripherals, talking to his friends.

"Do you like him?" Simone asks me.

"I don't know yet." I smile to myself. Maybe this will make school more interesting. I turn my head. There's an eye trained on me, so intense I could feel it. It couldn't have been Applebaum.

I look up, and Descamps is staring, sitting on the bench I saw him on the first day. I squint to see him better. I could've sworn I saw his jaw twitch. I look away.

××《☆》××

"The boys have a locker room, and all we get is the teachers' bathroom." Simone says from inside.

"My brother hates me." Michèle says, mostly to herself, but also to us. I purse my lips in pity.

"Stop it." Simone says in an annoyed tone.

"Really. Even before all this. He's always been pushing me away." Michèle continues even after Simone's reply.

"I witnessed it, Simone. It's true." I say through the door to let Simone hear my voice. Michèle looks at me in thanks. I nod.

Simone opens the door, now clothed in her gym clothes.

"Brothers don't hate their sisters." Simone tells Michèle to reassure her. It doesn't work.

"You're just lucky." Michèle detests.

I walk into the bathroom to change. I try to rush, our gym class starting in a few minutes. My clothes are a bit small, growing out of them since last school year. I adjust it a bit. The shorts are too short, shirt tight, but comfortable enough. I shrug.

I walk out the bathroom. The girls look at me.

"Wow, look at that figure of yours. Let's go before class starts without us." Simone grabs me and Michèle's arms and drags us to the gym.

They continued a conversation I hadn't been in, so I just blocked it out. We walk out the school, boys turning their heads to take a second look.

××《☆》××

"Hiding it draws more attention to it." Michèle tells Simone as Simone tugs at her shorts. I walk in a few steps behind them, entering the gym.

"It's yellow and green with purple spots. It's gross." I cringe at the description.

"No one will see it." Michèle reassures Simone.

"Everyone will see it. These shorts." Simone groans. The boys walk in with their tanktops and shorts.

"Great, you're all wearing navy blue. Maybe if I just stand sideways." Simone shifts her feet. I stand in front of her, covering it with my leg. She smiles at that.

All boys look to their right when Annick walks in. All of them except Applebaum, who keeps his eyes on me. I guess he gained a bit of confidence because he waves and smiles. I wave back and smile, too.

"Guess there's no need to stand sideways after all." Simone says, defeated.

××《☆》××

The boys scatter around, stretching and walking around. The coach commands them to do certain things I didn't care to listen to.

Applebaum walks behind us. I turn and smile.

"Hello, Applebaum." I greet, and he turns rushed from his bended position. His cheeks are flushed. I smile softer, trying to make him less uncomfortable.

Descamps walks into the gym and sees me and Applebaum interacting. He continues to watch. I don't notice him.

"Hi." That's all he says. I nod. Good enough.

"Good luck in there." I tilt my head to the boys, beginning their formation. He smiles.

"Thanks. You, too." He stutters out, placing his glasses on the bleachers hurriedly, almost running away from me.

Simone turns around. "Why is he running away from you? Did you say something? He's so red." She laughs.

"I just greeted him. I don't know why he's so shy." I reply, confusion in both my face and voice. "And he said you too when I said good luck. That doesn't make sense."

Simone laughs louder. When Michèle asks why she's laughing, Simone explains, and now Michèle is laughing, too. I roll my eyes, but a smile finds it way to my face.

Descamps is on the bleachers across from us. I feel a gaze on me. When I follow it, my eyes lock with his. He smirks. I scowl.

Annick raises her hand and calls out for the coach.

"Oh, right." He says. "The girls." A sigh.

××《☆》××

We look at the rope attached to the ceiling. I grimace.

"Climbing? Is he joking?" The three girls shake their head. I sigh.

"Who first?" No one answers.

I glance at the game, wanting to watch the boys play through it. They start to assemble, the game starting. I notice Applebaum moving around weirdly, squinting and turning his head rapidly. He really can't see without those glasses.

He gets hit in the head and falls to the ground. The boys go up to him. My brows crease in worry. In the bleachers, Descamps smiles. It triggers me.

I get up from the mat, the girls asking me where I'm going. I ignore them, rushing up to Applebaum.

"Applebaum, are you okay?" I hiss in pity, a red mark on his forehead.

"Pardine?" Even without his glasses, he still recognises me. That's sweet. I smile.

"Mhm. Are you still good?" He nods at that. I help him up. Out of the corner of my eye, I feel Descamps dark stare on both me and Applebaum. I ignore it.

"Be careful." That's the last thing I say before going back to the girls.

"You so like him." Michèle teases. I smile. I think I'm starting to.

Annick gets on the rope, and Simone holds it still for her.

"She's even good at gym. She's Marilyn Monroe's secret daughter." Simone tells me and Michèle. We laugh.

"No, I swear. She's nothing like us. Did you see her skin? It's perfect. Straight out of Hollywood." Simone says, convincing us that she was serious.

They look to their left. I keep my eyes on Annick and on the game.

"Your brother is looking for you." Simone tells Michèle. Jean Pierre ushers her to him, and both of them go. I replace Simone's position by handling the rope.

Simone comes back after a while, taking her place on the rope again. I sigh. Let's see how long this'll be.

××《☆》××

Annick finishes climbing up the rope. I decided to go next. I grip on the rope and start climbing. When I'm at least five feet away from the ground, my hands shift, and I fumble.

I start to go down, my hand that's still on the rope getting a burn, and the inside of my thigh gets the same injury. Three feet away from the floor, I fall on my back.

The loud thud gets attention from everyone in the gym. Simone and Michèle quickly get to me, asking if I'm okay. I don't respond, my injuries stinging.

I get up after catching my breath. I stand slowly with the support of Michèle. I nod, and she lets me go.

Descamps walks towards us, and I think of something to say. "What do you want now?" I don't look up at him, eyes on the burn on my thigh.

"Coach told me to bring you to the clinic." He says with a sigh.

"Why can't the others do it instead?" I ask him, now looking up and feeling cold sweat. His stare is so dark. His height makes him more intimidating. I don't show my sudden fear.

"Because I'm the only one not in this class. Now quit complaining and come with me." He grabs my arm harshly, but his hold is gentle. I wince anyway. He rubs it gently.

××《☆》××

As we reach the clinic, the nurse is disappointingly not there. Great.

"Sit down." Descamps says, a commanding tone in his voice. I sit on one of the beds.

He grabs a few things from the first aid kit. I look at him in wonder.

"I didn't know you knew how to take care of injur-"

"What the hell was that?" He cuts me off, caging me in with his arms on the bed. He's glaring. He's mad. Why is he mad?

"What?" I ask, clueless. What could he be mad about?

"Your injury. If you weren't so foolish and took care of yourself, you wouldn't have burns on you." He grabs my wrist and puts it up, showing me my own injury. I wince in pain, and something shifts in him. Regret and worry.

"Why do you care so much?" I say, now angry. Something shifts in him again. Annoyance. I whip my wrist from his hands. He grabs it again.

"It doesn't matter why I care. What matters is that you're hurt because 'you' don't care." He squints at me. "Plus, why are you wearing such small clothes? Is it because of Applebaum? Do you care what he thinks? Do you like him?" He furrows his eyebrows.

"He's nice to me. The only boy besides Pichon." He clenches his jaw.

"Pichon, huh? That piggy? Do you like both of them?" He chuckles. "The blind boy and the pig. You have bad taste." He leans in close. Too close. I feel his breath on my face. I glance at his lips, then back up to his eye.

"You call him blind when you only have one eye, and at least Pichon has respect for us girls. Unlike you." I tilt my head, urging him on. He stays quiet for a while. His eye moves from my eyes to my lips.

"Stop being a brat." He says, voice low. He lifts my hand up and blows on my palm. I feel myself relax, my breathing shaky. He still has his eye on me. I look at him. He doesn't look away.

He continues to blow until he has no breath left in him. He takes a disinfectant, spills a few drops of it on cotton, and gently pats it on my burn. I wince. He rubs my hand with his thumb.

"Be careful next time. I don't want to have to take you to the clinic again." He says, voice almost a whisper, but still low that you can see his throat vibrate.

"Trust me. Now I know that it would be you taking care of me, I'll be a lot more careful not to end up here." I whisper, too, feeling tension in the air.

He scoffs. "Didn't I tell you to stop being a brat?" He says a bit harshly, but his touch is still so gentle that you could fall asleep.

I don't say anything back. After he puts antiseptic on my palm, he gently wraps it in gauze. I watch his face. He's entirely focused, there's even worry etched on his brows.

He put my palm down gently. He looks up at me, eye scanning mine as he hovers his hand on my thigh. I nod.

He put his hand down. Both of us let out a breath we didn't know we were holding. He might've thought he hurt me because his hand caresses me gently. Very, very gently. I might pass out from relaxation.

On my inner thigh, there's a small burn. He grabs a cotton with disinfectant and does the same procedure he did on my palm.

Once he finishes, his hand stays on my thigh.

He bites his lip. "Be careful. Remember it." He says, his voice so low I could barely understand what he said. But he was so close, I could even hear the stutter in his breath.

"Okay." I whisper out, my breath moving his hair. The door opens, and the nurse comes in. Descamps steps away from me, and I feel cold. Like winter with no fire. Autumn with no coat. So, yes, it feels very cold.

"Ms. Pardine. Sorry I couldn't tend to you. I was on my break." I shake my head, dismissing it. I get up, and Descamps is suddenly by my side, helping me straighten up. I look at him. He doesn't even glance at me. Instead, he's looking at the wall to his left.

We head out of the clinic. It's break time already. Descamps walks away, disappearing in the tunnel, not even saying goodbye.

I walk towards Michèle and Simone. I sit on the bench, and they look at me worriedly.

"Y/N, are you okay? We've been worried since you left with Descamps. Did he do anything to you?" Simone asks, eyeing my injuries. I purse my lips.

"He only took care of me, surprisingly." I keep my head down. They nod, relaxing. I see Descamps' group of friends walk out the tunnel with Pichon's group just a few feet behind them. They talk, Applebaum's glasses not on his face. I furrow my brows.

"Hey, guys. Can you come with me later to change?" They nod.

I glance back at the boys. Descamps is now talking to Pichon. I start to worry.

"Why does she never talk to us? Celebrities do that. She says she's never been to Hollywood, but who knows?" Simone says, cutting me out of my trance. I already know who she's talking about.

"Maybe she's just introverted?" I say based on my observations. Simone shrugs. She looks to Michèle.

"Are you listening?" Simone asks her. She seems distracted lately. Michèle says yes. I doubt she had her head in the conversation.

"Hearings can take a while. Don't worry." Simone tells Michèle. I nod, feeling pity for her.

"Don't feel bad if he's going through this, Michèle. He just wanted to defend you. That was his choice, you know? He cares." I tell her, placing a hand over hers.

"Have you used the climbing rope a lot?" Michèle asks. Very random, but Simone answers anyway.

"No, why?" She says, smiling confused.

"No reason. Forget it." Me and Simone purse out lips and forget about it. We look around the courtyard. I see Pichon pop out of the tree next to us. I look at him confused. He walks to our bench and starts calling out for Annick.

"You can just talk to her." Simone tells him. Annick walks over to Pichon, and they walk away.

"Do you think he's going to propose?" Simone asks as a joke. I laugh.

"Probably." They laugh, too.

××《☆》××

"So," Ms. Giarud places her coat on her chair. "Who deserves to be class leader?"

Descamps raises his hand, Felbec, too. I look at Descamps confused. How does he know?

"Mr. Felbec. Did you find the date of the Battle of Marathon?" Felbec stands up.

"Fifth century, B.C." Felbec answers.

"Correct. Would you say 'twentieth century' if I asked about the Battle of Verdun?" The class chuckles. Descamps raises his hand again.

"Mr. Descamps. Can you do better?" Ms. Giraud lets him stand.

"Four hundred ninety B.C." Impressed noises come from our class. I raise my eyebrows.

"Congratulations, Descamps. That's very impressive." It is impressive. Very.

"Can you tell me where you found the date?" This is where I have a feeling he doesn't know. I'm right. But he plays it off.

"In our book." Wrong answer, Descamps. I smile slyly.

"Surprising. The Persian Wars aren't part of the curriculum." Busted.

"Maybe it was another book. I don't remember." He's bad at playing this off. I sigh. Too bad for him.

"Already? If you've already forgotten something that happened today, how will you remember anything when you get your diploma?" Ms. Giraud says matter-of-factly.

"I gave him the date." Pichon says, standing up. That's how Descamps knows. That's what they were talking about earlier. Ms. Giraud lets Pichon continue.

"Four hundred ninety B.C. is in the manual on Ancient Greece." Pichon answers her.

"And I know that because..." He trails off and looks to the side. "I read it in the book."

"Why did you give the answer to Descamps?" Ms. Giraud asks him.

"I wasn't sure I could do it." He fumbles with his hands. "Being class leader, ma'am."

"There are worse faults than humility. Certain students, boys and girls, should remember that." Ms. Giraud says, fingertips balancing her on her table.

"Pichon, you are our class leader." Tension as sharp as a knife spreads around the classroom. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable in the silence. Good luck with them.

××《☆》××

"Should I iron Laubrac's jacket before I give it back?" Michèle smiles as she asks us.

"I knew you liked him. I totally called it." I say in triumph. They laugh. Michèle suddenly gasps.

"I forgot my cardigan." Michèle remembers, the smile on her face dropping.

"Go ahead. I have errands to run." Simone says. We all bid each other goodbye and part ways.

As I walk to my flat, a hand grabs my arm and covers my mouth. I prepare to scream, but stop midway when I see Descamps' face. I push him away.

"What was that for?" I shout angrily at him. He puts a finger to his lips, shushing me.

"You're too loud. Do you want to get caught?" He steps closer.

"Get caught doing wha-" He covers my mouth again, and I lick it. He pulls away, disgusted.

"Ew, why would you do that?" He wipes his hand on my shirt. I move away from him.

"Stop covering my mouth." I whisper-shout at him. We stand there, silent, his hand staying on my arm. I see him gulp, his adams apple bobbing up and down.

Our breaths are heavy. It's the only thing we hear. He walks a bit closer to me. I look up, his height getting taller.

"What do you want, Descamps?" I ask him, whispering. He doesn't say anything yet, eye focused on me. He drops his head.

"A warning." He says, his voice breaking a bit.

"What?" What does he mean by a warning?

"He got off with a warning." Oh. Jean Pierre.

"It's not fair. He took my eye out." I don't know why he's talking to me about this, but I feel pity anyway.

"Descamps-" I cut myself off when his arms wrap around my waist and his head tucks itself into my neck.

My hands absentmindedly go up to rub his back. I whisper confort into his ear. He isn't crying. He's just standing slumped, absorbing my warmth. I let him.

He suddenly pulls away, some sort of fear in his eyes. He runs out of the alley, and I'm left alone.

I decided after a while that I should start walking back home. He stays in mind the rest of the night. Even in my dreams, he lingers. His touch, his scent, his breath. And I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter two: My eye only

Next- Chapter three: He is half my soul, as the poets say

××《☆》××

End of chapter two. I think this is longer than the first because i added more additional scenes so the joseph and the reader can interact. The enemies to lovers are really coming into place in this. Applebaum is a sweetheart, but for those who loved him here, sad to say, this will only be a one-time thing. Unless i change my mind in the future. Hope you guys liked it and again, leave a comment or dm me for recommendations. Thanks for reading!!!

#joseph descamps x reader #joseph descamps #mixte1963 #michèle magnan #simone palladino #jean pierre magnan #alain laubrac #enemies to lovers #reader insert #fanfic #x reader #slow burn

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jessiexcorner · 3 months

Text

Heartbreak Highs. (pt. 3)

Description: Amerie, Harper, and (Y/n). The three were the best of friends until the incest map. A heartbreak high x reader.

Part 1:

Part 2:

"You sure you’ll be good? You can stay over for longer if you want,” (Y/n) says to Darren as they step out of her car and peer in through the window.

“Yeah, thanks for letting me stay, and dropping me to work.”

“Yea, no worries, see you after your shift?” (Y/n) asks, to which Darren nods. She drives off heading to Harper’s aunt’s place to hang out.

“Hey Harp” (Y/n) says with a smile entering the house. She notices a younger kid next to Harper, her little cousin, they had met a couple of times. “Hey, little star!” (Y/n) raises her hand out for a high five which the kid gladly returns.

“Did you get it?” The kid asks excitedly.

(Y/n) hums and reaches into her bag to pull out some sweets, “Don't eat them all at once your mom will get mad at me if I spoil your appetite..” She tries to warn but the kid already has taken off running to her room with the bag of junk food. “..Just so you know I'm still mad at the fish thing…” (Y/n) states.

“..I got you your favorite snacks as an ‘im sorry’ gift,” Harper says holding out the small bag of treats.

“…Okay, maybe I'm a little less upset.”

Harper laughs and pulls the girl inside the home, wrapping an arm around her neck. They head to the guest room and laze around, talking, and watching a movie together. They lay in bed watching a random film on (Y/n)’s laptop. (Y/n) feels her phone buzz and looks at it to see a notification of a message from Darren, opening it to find an image of Amerie in butchered bangs. She looks up at Harper who’s focused on the movie. She texts 'Oh my god.’ to Darren and shuts her phone, snuggling closer to the blond girl, who doesn't mind. A few minutes later she gets another text from Darren which says ‘Fixed Dora’s haircut.’ With a photo of the new hair and Amerie in a trolly, a place familiar. (Y/n) furrows her brows, sitting up a bit and texting quickly. ‘You're at the roof? I thought you wanted me to pick you up?’ She pauses to read the response. ’Yeah sorry, I asked Quinni, we’re at the roof now. We’re actually going to head to the cemetery for the party,’ ‘What..’ (Y/n) types out but then delete and replace it with an ‘oh.’ She can't really blame them, she never told the two she was close friends with Amerie before she became a Dusty-obsessed mean girl. They only knew about Harper and that she and Harp had a falling out but, now are on better terms. ‘You should come, please? It wouldn't be the same.’ (Y/n) pauses at the message. 'PLEASE COME!!1!’ Another message says. ’That was Quinni, but yes’ (Y/n) smiles a little at the text before responding with ‘okay.’

“Hey Harp, you're going to the cemetery thing yeah?”

“Yeah, why?” Harper looks over at the (h/c) hair girl.

“I wanna come.” Harper looks at her with surprise.

“Really? You never wanted to go before, but alright, if you’re sure,” She says with a smile.

At the cemetery, most teens carry a drink or smoke enjoying themselves. (Y/n) sticks close to Harper as the girl talks with Missy and Sasha, not drinking any alcohol. She looks around waiting for Darren and Quinni. “Hey, you good?” Harper asks.

“Oh, yeah, Darren said that they and Quinni were coming, I'm just keeping an eye out.” (Y/n) explains.

“Ah,” Harper nods understanding. (Y/n) notices Harper is almost done with her drink.

“Want me to get you another?” (Y/n) asks not wanting to stand around silently or awkwardly as Sasha, Missy, and Harper talk.

“If you're okay with it, sure,” Harper says noticing the fact (Y/n) was silent throughout the whole party. The (h/c) haired girl nods humming and walks to the drinks to find an unopened and untampered bottle. As she searches the cooler she notices someone standing next to her, she looks up to see the new kid.

“Hey,” He starts.

“Hi..” She responds going back to her search for the drink.

“Looking for that?” He points out a bottle that seems to be unopened.

“Oh, yeah.. Thanks,” She grabs the bottle, checking it once more.

“I'm Malakai.” He reaches out his hand.

She stands up before reaching her own hand out, “(Y/n).”

“You don’t seem like someone who comes here often,”

(Y/n) raises a brow “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, no I didn't mean, it's just you seem uncomfortable around here…” Malakai tries to explain.

“… it's actually my first time at something like this.” (Y/n) admits.

“Hey, me too.” He smiles.

“Right.” She pauses, not used to talking to a lot of new people, or comfortable talking to someone she doesn't already know.

“Can I offer you a drink?”

“I don't drink.” (Y/n) declines.

“Oh, okay that’s cool.”Malakai is about to say something else when (Y/n) excuses herself.

“I have to get this to my friend,” She points in Harper’s general direction.

“Oh, uh, sure, see you around?” He asks hopefully.

(Y/n) hums but leaves immediately as soon as she gets the chance to run back to her friend’s side.

“Hey, saw you talking to the new kid,” Harper teases a bit taking the drink (Y/n) brought her.

“Hm? Oh yeah.” (Y/n) moves on by not speaking of the topic anymore.

“Well, he seemed like he wanted to talk to you, actually he still seems like he wants to talk to you,” Harper points out, (Y/n) glances at the direction of where the coolers were, and Malakai is looking at the girl and her friend. (Y/n) looks away and awkwardly shrugs. It only took another minute before sundown when Darren, Quinni, and Amerie arrive. (Y/n) spots her friends and is about to say hi, but stops when she sees Amerie. She taps Harper to let her know, who had arrived. Harper looks over and sees the group, and nods in acknowledgment. Quinni finding (Y/n) smiles and waves, which the girl returns back. Amerie on the other hand spotting her old friends wants to turn back. Malakai walks up to Amerie holding out a beer.

"Hey, cunt. My actual name's Malakai, by the way.”

“Amerie.” The girl introduces herself. (Y/n) notices the interaction and looks away focusing on her friends Darren and Quinni. Smiling, she is about to walk up to them but, Malakai seemingly wanting to cheer Amerie up, starts dancing which makes Quinni pull Amerie to the dance floor and begin dancing with her and Darren. (Y/n)’s smile falters a little, pulling back she moves away from the middle of the dance floor back to the sides. Once Amerie seems to be done having her fun with Malakai; Darren and Quinni catch up with (Y/n) and they talk about Quinni’s plan to confront Spider about the rumor and Darren’s encounter with Cash earlier that day.

“Oh really? That's so cool Quinni, it'll be hilarious!” (Y/n) hypes up her friend, encouraging her.

“Oh! I should tell Amreie too,” Quinni walks off with a smile leaving (Y/n) on her own as Darren had left to get a drink. She looks around shuffling before deciding to look for Harper. While searching she bumps into someone.

“Oh, sorry,”

“Oh hey, it's you.” Malakai smiles once more after stabilizing the both of them.

“Oh, uh, yup.” (Y/n) nods turning away.

“Hey, could I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Do you not like me or are you just shy?”

“..What?”

“I dunno, you just seem to avoid me, or people in general.”

“..Well, I don't exactly know you enough to not like you.”

“You could, get to know me that is. I would like to get to know you,” He says with a smile.

Oh. Well, this was… different. Not a bad thing, maybe, but strange indeed. “Oh, uh—“ (Y/n) was cut off and a bit distracted when she saw Quinni walking towards Spider to confront him about the 'Lazy kebab' rumor. Malakai glances at what caught the girl’s attention.

"Hey, Spider.” Quinni hands the guy a large blue folder, full of diagrams and images. Spider skims through with wide eyes, and makes a face.

"Yuck! What is this shit?"

"Oh. You don't like vaginas?” Quinni asks, seemingly genuine.

"No, I like vaginas.” Spider corrects her, thinking that the girl is implying something else.

Well, you clearly don't know much about them because if you have a look here…See most vaginas have very pronounced flaps, or labia, and some of them are even lopsided, where I'm assuming you got "Lazy Kebab" from, but it's very, very, normal. You wouldn't know, it's not taught in public schools much. Which is actually very— “ Quinni rambles as she points at the diagrams and pictures. People begin to notice the commotion and Spider’s reactions.

“I've seen heaps of vaginas. Thanks.” Spider says harshly shoving the folder back to the girl.

“Okay. I just assumed, on account of the fact that you were lying about seeing mine, that you were lying about seeing others too.” Quinni says calmly in her usual tone, directly insulting him and discrediting him in one sentence. The kids around snicker and laugh. (Y/n) watches with a proud smile.

"Look, of course, we didn't have sex. Why would I root a fucknut like you?” Spider retorts angrily walking away. A girl, Sasha comes up to compliment Quinni.

“That's your friend right?” Malakai asks (y/n) noticing her smile.

“Yes,"

"she’s amazing,”

“She is,” (Y/n) beams,

“You have a pretty smile,”

That makes (Y/n) pause and nervous. She was never really the best at these things. There is a reason why she was labeled as 'Fish' on the map. She turns her head away chuckling nervously, not sure how to respond. But like a knight in shining armour, Harper links her arm to hers.

“Hey, I needed to take a piss, come with me?” Harper says not paying attention to the boy. Until she notices the fidgety and shy look on her friend’s face and grins. “Am I interrupting?”

“No! I’ll come with you, bye Malakai.” (Y/n) says dragging the blond away who chuckles at her. Malakai stands where he was left with a smile watching the girls walk away.

“So, Malakai is it? Does little (Y/n) have a crush?” Harper teases.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? It's nothing, he’s just being friendly.”

“Yeah, I'm sure he’s being friendly… the ‘you have a pretty smile’ friendly.” Harper says mocking the conversation she heard earlier as she squats near the graves to pee.

“You hear that?!” (Y/n) turns to face away letting the girl piss in peace, but also a little embarrassed.

“Come on it's cute!”

“Shush— Oh shit.“

“What?”

“..Amerie.” (Y/n) says as if warning the other girl. The brown girl walks towards them both staring directly at Harper as she pees.

"Oi, can we talk?” Amerie says, eyeing (Y/n) who doesn't say anything but stays close to Harper, like a guard dog.

"Jesus. Let me finish.” Harper huffs. She pauses and continues, "Just talk until I can get going again."

"Why don't you want to be friends anymore? After everything, Harp? It's killing me. I just want to fix it. Please tell me how to fix it.”

"What happened to your hair?” Harper changes the subject.

"I cut it."

“Yourself?” Harper raises a brow.

"Yes,” Amerie says confidently, making (Y/n) scoff, Darren did her hair. Why lie?

Harper chuckles, pulling up her pants and buttoning them. "I told you not to watch those YouTube tutorials. You never listen."

"And you never talk. What happened? We were fine up until the festival.” Amerie says desperately wanting to get closer, only to have (Y/n) step in a bit, protectively. "I went to your house and you weren’t—“

“Why did you go to my house?"

"You weren't talking to me—“

"So you stalked my house and harassed my dad?"

"I didn't harass your dad,” Amerie says lightly.

"That is such the typical psycho thing for you to do."

"You're the psycho. You ruined my life."

"Ruined your life? All this sh*t, Amerie, the map, your stupid fucking crush on Dusty, do you not understand how unimportant it all is? You're a child.” Harper snaps.

"That's not a reason to dump me. What's happened to you? Harper. I just want to move on.” Amerie says softly.

"And I don't want you in my life anymore,” Harper says harshly, tugging (Y/n) along with her.

“Since when did you replace me with (Y/n),” Amerie retorts in a last-ditch effort.

“I didn’t do shit. Unlike you, she’s actually my friend.” Harper defends (Y/n) while hurting Amerie in the process. Harper and (Y/n) walk away from the brown girl. (Y/n) notices the girl shaking and holding her hand gently squeezing back and letting Harper catch her breath and calm down.

“..Thanks, Harper.. you didn’t have to,”

“i did. You have always been there for me. The least I can do is be there for you too,” Harper says focusing on the way (Y/n)’s thumb rubs over her still-cracked knuckles. The two head back to the party, hand in hand.

@inkpot-winters

@juhdoche

@minnipe

thank you for waiting, sorry for any grammar mistakes and a short chap. <3

#heartbreakhigh #heartbreakhighamerie #amerie #harpermclean #malakai #malakai x reader #harper x reader #heartbreakhigh2022 #darren #quinni #heartbreakhighdarren #heartbreakhighquinni #heartbreak high x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months

Note

thought: what if jason had the ability to see ghosts but only when tired. so he ends up thinking he’s hallucinating and doesn’t tell anyone because thats tims thing

There is a little girl singing nursery rhythms and spinning in small circles. Now usually, Jason wouldn't find that too out of place. Kids always found the strangest things entertaining.

No, what was strange was that the little girl was floating just above the rails of the stairway. She looks like a poorly edited clip slapped onto the backdrop of the gala he has been dragged to.

She's wearing a red dress and a large bow in her hair that seems to have been stolen from Alice on her way to Wonderland. Her skin had a greenish hue, and a slight glow was coming off her, reminding Jason of a miniature night light.

"Huh," He mumbles, taking another sip of the water he picked up. Bruce is the one who pretends to get sloppy drunk at all the parties, while in comparison, Jason has gained a reputation for never touching alcohol. It says a lot about how powerful the Waynes are if his presence ensures the hosts have other refreshments ready for him.

This means that the little girl is not a drunken hallucination. Maybe he's more tired than he thought.

"What is it?" Tim asks to his side. His disgusting CEO smile is still firmly in place, a twist of the lips that belie the hidden tension. Tim would appear relaxed and enjoying the party like any other elite if anyone glanced in their direction. "Trouble?"

The little girl is sticking her tongue out at some teenagers heading her way. She's not doing anything but making faces at random guests that walk by. "I don't think so."

"What is it then?"

Jason had a choice here. He could mention the little girl, but that would mean admitting he could see her. Based on the way, literally, no one is reacting; he's the only one that can.

She's likely another hallucination.

Jason has been getting those since he was young, usually due to a lack of sleep. Just last week, he saw a butcher wandering the streets of Gotham, wearing the highest heels he had ever seen. That had been after the five-day mission with the OutLaws, where he thinks he only had a chance to sleep maybe three times.

He should go home before the little girl starts doing something weird.

Not that he would ever let the rest of the family know, especially Tim. Seeing things that aren't there is Tim's thing, and Jason has teased him too often over the years about it to start admitting he's got the condition too.

He nods his head at the teenagers. Tim turns his body slightly, allowing his gaze to take in what he's looking at without making it obvious he's staring. Apparently, he can't make it known he's interested in someone. Ugh, another rule of high society that Jason will never bother to understand. "I've never seen them before."

He means the two accompany Samatha Manson. He's aware of the inventor's granddaughter, seeing as her family had ties with the Waynes, distant as they may be. It was Waynes who bought the rights to her grandfather's inventions many years ago, and his son was the one that started investing in some smaller shell companies of Waynes, further building the family fortune.

Jason didn't see her often at galas because while the Mansons were wealthy, they were new money. They had no connections, mannerisms, or mindset to be welcomed by the elites.

"Daniel Fenton and Tucker Foley. Foley is in the brown suit, Fenton is the one in the black one." Tim identifies quickly. He probably went over the gala invitation guest list to memorize everyone attending even though it wasn't a gala they were hosting. "Her best friends. Nothing that stands out too much about them except for Fenton. His parents are independent ghost hunters and researchers."

Jason blinks down at this brother. "Ghost hunters?"

Both brothers know how real ghosts can be in their line of work, seeing as Deadman has helped them with some cases before. Still, it's surprising to find civilians who are that close to the undead.

"More Ghostbusters than actual hunters." Tim shrugs when he gets a confused frown. "I looked into them to make sure Fenton over there wouldn't be a danger once in Gotham. His parents' inventions are marketed as ghost-hunting equipment but are authentic weapons. He's been known to show signs of rouge potential behavior."

Jason looks back at the black hair boy who is......talking to the little girl? Or trying to? She is spinning again, floating up to the chandelier, not caring for the teenage boy leaning over the railing towards her as Foley and Manson stand guard. If they trying to be inconspicuous, they are doing a poor job.

Jason spots Damian approaching the trio with a tense set of his shoulders. His youngest brother taps his finger against the glass in his hand in a specific rhythm.

If any of the Bats have seen Damian- which is all of them, given that everyone in the family always keeps an eye on Damian at galas- they have all been told the same message.

Possible jumper.

Granted, without the little girl, it looks like Fenton wants to take a leap over the railing. That's worrying.

Tim proves this by tilting his chin slightly in their direction, shoulders also tense. "Let's go."

Jason follows after Tim, trying his best to not make it obvious they are freaking out about a possible tragedy about to happen. Damian, thankfully, has already reached the teenagers but is stalled by Manson.

He can't hear what she's saying, but she's matching Damian's angry scowl with her own. Seeing the only two goth kids standing off with each other is hilarious.

Damian had told Bruce a few months back that he wanted to try and change his civilian persona a bit and had taken their dad's credit card with Raven to do shopping.

He's come back as a goth, giving Bruce a near heart attack, as Damian changed out all his suits to have a scull somewhere on his person at all times. Jason thought it was the best cover plan the brat could have ever done.

Mason's right eye twitches when she sees them, but other than glaring harshly, she doesn't say anything as they come up to stand behind Damian. Tim is in the perfect place to sludge for Fenton should the boy throw himself over. Jason is to tackle the two teenagers should they try to stop his brother.

"Dude, it's okay. Danny always does that," Foley assures as they finally climb up to them. "He's really into, ugh, parkour."

"It's dangerous," Damian particularly bites. Looks like someone needs more sensitive training.

Fenton stops trying to lean over the rail to glance over his shoulder to Damian. "I'm okay. Thank you for worrying about me, though."

Jason is standing in the prime location to see Damian's haughty expression melt away into startled wonder. He watches a tiny bit of red appear on the cheekbones of his youngest brother, and for a moment, all Jason can think is how much he will have fun teasing the boy later.

Gosh, if he wasn't so tired he would realize he wasn't the only one who noticed.

"He's red like a tomato!" A feminine voice chirps, and he can't help but laugh at the comment. Damian's face is slowly turning redder by the curious head tilt Fenton does in his direction. Cute.

"You got that right, kiddo, so red he's ripe for the picking. " Jason smirks down at his brother, who, for his part, dares to look confused.

"What are you babbling about?" Damian snaps as Tim's intense eyes swing over the boy's head to lock gazes with Jason.

"What the girl said"

"I didn't say anything," Manson denies, and Jason finally realizes he has responded to the little girl, who is grinning ear from ear. Shit.

"Oh." Fenton nods, stepping down the railing to look Jason dead in the eye and smile. "You see dead people."

"Cool, one of us. One of us." Foley chants with a grin, and even Mason seems to relax more, going from irritated to indifferent. The teenager stops his chat when the three brothers fail to find humor.

Danny just smiles near-vacantly, which causes Damian to look hot under the collar.

Maybe Jason should leave to take a nap in the safety of his room because he does not have the time to unpack all of this.

"Maybe we should find Bruce," Tim says after a moment, and that is when the little girl choices to fly right up to Tim and flick his ear. Tim startles so hard he slams into Damian, who loses his footing and falls over. Jason is fast enough to catch him before he rolls down the stairs.

Danny giggles, and for the first time since he's known Damian, he looks like he wants the ground to swallow him hole. What a weird night for Jason.

"What the hell was that?" Tim mumbles, looking around.

Manson grins a sharp, wicked thing. "A ghost"

"Of course it is." Tim sighs then he gives Jason a near-eye glare. "How long have you been able to see ghosts?"

"Honestly? Probably since I was six. I thought they were hallucinations."

"And why did you not tell anyone about having what you thought were lifelong hallucinations?"

"I'm not you. Hallucinations are your weird thing. Mine are guns."

"I like them," Fenton announces, and the other two finally step back. Only then does he come to the startling observation that Manson and Feley had been acting like bodyguards by placing themselves between Fenton and the Waynes?

What a strange night indeed.

"Todd, let me up!"

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #pre-Dead Serious #Jason sees dead people #But doesn't tell anyone cause he's pity #Danny and co are just trying to tell the little ghost girl to move

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 month

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV

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

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

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

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

********************************************

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

*******************************************

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out.

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said?

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

***************************************************

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses.

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it, but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game, before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't. It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you. He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him. Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

***************************************

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys #jensen ackles #soldier boy fic #billy butcher #the boys amazon #hughie campbell #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

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lila-lou · 2 months

Text

✨ His only exception - Pt. 15/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Violence

Word Count: 6921

A/N: This is part 15 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As the car ride dragged on, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that hung heavy in the air. Your shoulder throbbed painfully, the blood from your wound seeping through your fingers as you tried to staunch the bleeding.

Frustration and fear boiled inside you, fueling your determination to escape at the first opportunity. So when the SUV finally came to a stop, you wasted no time in making your move.

With a surge of adrenaline, you threw yourself at the two men, unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks in a desperate bid for freedom. But despite your best efforts, they were ready for you, deflecting your blows with ease and retaliating with brutal force.

A sharp blow to the side of your head sent stars exploding behind your eyes, and you stumbled backward, dazed and disoriented. Through the haze of pain, you fought to stay conscious, knowing that your only chance lay in escaping this nightmare.

But it was no use. Another blow landed squarely on your jaw, sending you sprawling to the ground in a haze of agony. As darkness closed in around you, you fought to keep your eyes open, clinging to consciousness with all your strength.

But in the end, it was futile. With one final gasp, you succumbed to the darkness, the world fading away into nothingness as the sounds of the men's cruel laughter echoed in your ears.

As unconsciousness enveloped you, you were vaguely aware of being dragged through the underground car park, the rough ground scraping against your skin as the two men hauled you along. You were lifted, your limbs limp and unresponsive, as they heaved you into an elevator.

As the doors closed with a dull thud, the two men exchanged murmured words, their voices low and filled with an unsettling sense of anticipation.

"Feisty little thing, isn't she?", one of them remarked, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.

The other chuckled in agreement. "I do love a challenge", he replied, his tone dripping with malice.

As the elevator came to a stop on one of the top floors, the doors slid open to reveal a woman standing before them, her posture radiating authority. Ashley.

"What took you so long?", Ashley snapped, her tone sharp and impatient. "I specifically instructed you to bring her here unharmed".

The two men shifted uncomfortably under Ashley's piercing gaze. "We… we tried, but she put up a fight", one of them stammered.

Ashley's expression darkened as she surveyed the scene before her, her gaze narrowing on your unconscious form. "Well, it seems you were a little too rough with her", she remarked icily, her displeasure evident.

The men exchanged uneasy glances, realizing the gravity of their mistake. "We'll make sure she's taken care of", one of them promised hastily, his voice tinged with desperation.

Ashley's lips curled into a cold smile, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "See that you do", she replied, her tone dripping with menace. "We can't afford any more complications".

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Ashley turned on her heel and strode away, leaving the two men to deal with the consequences of their actions.

As consciousness slowly returned, you found yourself in a state of disorientation, your senses gradually coming back to you. Blinking groggily, you took in your surroundings: a large, imposing office with polished floors and sleek furnishings.

But as you attempted to move, you realized that something was wrong. Panic surged through you as you discovered that your arms and legs were bound tightly to a chair, leaving you completely immobilized.

With a surge of adrenaline, you began to tug and strain against the restraints, desperation driving you to break free. But no matter how hard you struggled, the bonds held fast, refusing to yield to your efforts.

Frustration bubbled up inside you, boiling over into a stream of curses and expletives as you fought against your confinement. Each tug and pull only served to tighten the restraints further, leaving you trapped and helpless.

"Damn it!", you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls of the empty office. "Let me go, you bastards!".

But your cries fell on deaf ears as you continued to struggle against your bonds, the realization sinking in that escape was impossible.

As your tirade of curses echoed through the room, Ashley approached you with a calm, collected demeanor, her expression betraying no hint of concern or empathy.

"Stop moving, you're only hurting yourself", she stated flatly.

You glared at her, your eyes blazing with defiance as you continued to struggle against your restraints. "Screw you, Ashley", you spat. "Let me go, or I swear I'll—".

But Ashley merely chuckled, cutting you off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh, please. Save your threats for someone who cares", she replied, her voice laced with amusement.

Your frustration reached a boiling point as you unleashed a torrent of insults and curses, each word aimed squarely at Ashley. But she remained unfazed, her chuckles only serving to fuel your anger further.

With a resigned sigh, Ashley shook her head, her lips quirking into a condescending smile. "Feisty, aren't you?", she remarked casually, as if your aggression was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

You seethed with impotent rage, unable to do anything but glare at her from your bound position.

"What the fuck do you want from me?", you demanded.

"It's not what I want, darling. It's what Homelander wants", she replied smoothly.

Your heart sank at her words, a cold dread settling in the pit of your stomach. "Homelander?", you repeated incredulously, unable to believe what you were hearing. "What does he have to do with this?".

Ashley's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Oh, nothing much. Just a simple request to… persuade you to see things his way", she explained cryptically.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of her words, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. If Homelander was involved, then this situation was far more dangerous than you had initially realized.

But before you could formulate a response, Ashley began to walk away, her voice trailing behind her with a chilling finality. "Welcome to Vought, darling. I hope you enjoy your stay".

As Ashley disappeared from view, leaving you alone in the empty room, your frustration and anger reached a fever pitch. Cursing loudly, you continued to struggle against your restraints, your skin chafing and burning as the ropes dug into your flesh.

With each futile attempt to break free, the ropes bit deeper into your skin, leaving angry red welts in their wake. But despite the pain, you refused to give up, fueled by a stubborn determination to escape this nightmare at any cost.

Desperation clawed at your insides as you tugged and pulled with all your strength, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth as the ropes cut deeper into your wrists and ankles. But no matter how hard you tried, the bonds held fast, refusing to yield to your efforts.

Exhausted and defeated, you finally slumped back in the chair, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you stared at the ceiling, feeling utterly powerless and alone.

Frenchie's hands trembled as he dialed your number repeatedly, each attempt met with the same soul-crushing silence. With each failed call, his panic grew, a gnawing sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

As the minutes stretched into agonizing hours, Frenchie's mind raced with a thousand fears and possibilities. What had happened to you? Where were you? Was it too late to help?

Frantically, he searched the apartment for any sign of your whereabouts, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and frustration. But all he found was silence, broken only by the relentless buzzing of his phone as he continued to call your number.

With each unanswered call, Frenchie felt a sense of helplessness wash over him, a crushing weight that threatened to suffocate him. He had to do something, anything, to find you and bring you back safe.

But as the hours ticked by and his efforts yielded no results, Frenchie realized that he was facing an uphill battle with no end in sight.

With a sinking feeling in his chest, Frenchie dialed Butcher's number. After several rings, Butcher finally picked up, his voice gruff and impatient.

"What is it, Frenchie? I'm in the middle of something", Butcher snapped, his tone no-nonsense as usual.

Frenchie swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rising panic within him. "Butcher, it's urgent. I can't reach (Y/N)", he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Butcher responded, his tone grudgingly concerned. "What do you mean you can't reach her? What's going on?", he demanded.

Frenchie quickly explained the situation, recounting how he had been unable to contact you for hours and the growing sense of dread that had consumed him.

Butcher's response was terse, his words clipped and to the point. "Keep trying. I'll see what I can find out from this end", he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Frenchie nodded, even though Butcher couldn't see him. "Thanks, Butcher", he replied gratefully, his relief evident in his voice.

But as he hung up the phone, Frenchie couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. He knew that time was of the essence, and that he would stop at nothing to find you and bring you back home.

With a sense of urgency, Frenchie continued to try reaching you without success, his heart sinking with each unanswered call. Determined not to give up, he turned his attention to scouring through the camera recordings of the city, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

After what felt like an eternity of searching, just as he was about to give up hope, his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure in one of the recordings. It was you, being escorted by the two men and the ominous black SUV.

A surge of relief flooded through Frenchie as he quickly scrutinized the footage, committing every detail to memory. As he zoomed in on the license plate of the vehicle, his blood ran cold when he saw the unmistakable emblem of Vought.

Heart pounding, Frenchie wasted no time in dialing Butcher’s number once more, his voice urgent as he relayed the newfound information. “Butcher, I’ve found her. She’s with Vought”, he blurted out, his words rushed with adrenaline.

“Vought? What the bloody hell are they up to now?”, he growled, his frustration evident.

“I don´t know, but we need to act fast”, he insisted.

Butcher’s response was immediate and decisive. “I’ll send the team back. Except Soldier Boy”, he instructed.

Relief washed over Frenchie at the news, grateful for the reinforcements that were on their way. “Alright, Butcher. I’ll be ready for them”, he replied, a sense of resolve in his tone.

But Butcher wasn’t finished yet. “But Frenchie, listen to me”, he continued, his voice taking on a stern edge. “Do not, I repeat, do not go in there alone. Wait for the team to arrive. Understood?”.

Frenchie hesitated for a moment, the urgency of the situation weighing heavily on his mind. But he knew that Butcher was right. “Understood”, he replied reluctantly, knowing that it would take a few hours for the rest of the team to reach him.

Butcher's stern warning echoed in Frenchie's mind as he hung up the phone, a mixture of frustration and determination swirling within him. He knew that going in alone would be reckless, but the thought of you in danger ignited a fierce determination within him.

Taking a deep breath, Frenchie forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to prepare for the arrival of the team and ensure that everything was in place for the rescue mission.

As he gathered supplies and double-checked his plans, the minutes stretched into agonizing hours, each second ticking by like an eternity.

As you struggled against your restraints, the door to the office swung open with a resounding creak, and in stepped Homelander, his presence commanding the room. His hands were clasped behind his back, and a smug smirk played on his lips as he sauntered toward you.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?", Homelander mused, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed you with a mix of amusement and disdain. "Looks like Soldier Boy's little girlfriend got herself into some trouble. Again".

You bristled at his condescending tone, a surge of anger coursing through you despite your helpless situation. "I'm nobody's girlfriend", you retorted defiantly.

Homelander merely chuckled, unfazed by your bravado. "Oh, please. We both know that's not true", he replied dismissively. "But enough small talk. I have some questions for you, and I expect you to answer truthfully".

As he spoke, Homelander circled around you, his gaze piercing as he studied you with unnerving intensity. With each step he took, the sense of dread that had been gnawing at you only intensified, as you realized that you were completely at his mercy.

"Why the hell are you still alive?", Homelander demanded, his voice low and menacing, as he loomed over you.

You met his gaze with defiance, refusing to show any sign of weakness. "Maybe I'm just too stubborn to die", you shot back.

Homelander's eyes narrowed dangerously at your insolence, his patience wearing thin. "Don't play games with me", he growled, his voice tinged with frustration. "How is it that the Compound V didn't kill you, but it also didn't turn you into a supe?".

You remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Enraged by your defiance, Homelander's patience snapped. With a swift motion, he raised his hand and delivered a powerful slap across your face.

The force of the blow sent you and the chair crashing to the ground, pain exploding through your skull as your mouth and nose began to bleed. Through the haze of agony, you struggled to maintain consciousness, your vision swimming as you fought to keep your wits about you.

But despite the pain and the fear that threatened to overwhelm you, you refused to back down. Clinging to your defiance like a lifeline, you stared up at Homelander with unyielding resolve, silently daring him to break you.

As you lay sprawled on the ground, blood trickling from your battered face, Homelander towered over you, his expression cold and unyielding.

"Answer me", he demanded, his voice a menacing growl. "How did you survive?".

Gritting your teeth against the pain, you met his gaze. "Wouldn't you like to know?", you spat back, your voice thick with contempt.

Homelander's eyes flashed with fury at your insolence. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, hauling you up until you were eye level with him.

"You think you're clever, don't you?", he sneered, his grip tightening on your shirt. "But I'll make you talk, one way or another".

"Good luck with that", you retorted.

With a frustrated growl, Homelander shoved you back to the ground, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "We'll see about that", he replied ominously, turning to leave the room.

As he disappeared from view, leaving you battered and bruised on the floor, you knew that your ordeal was far from over.

As the hours dragged on, your body bore the cruel marks of Homelander’s relentless interrogation. Bruises blossomed across your skin like dark petals, and blood stained your torn clothing. Every breath came with a sharp pang of pain, and each movement sent waves of agony coursing through your battered frame.

Homelander’s attempts to extract information from you grew increasingly brutal with each passing hour. He wielded violence like a blunt instrument, striking you with merciless force and leaving you gasping for breath, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

But despite the physical torment, you remained steadfast in your defiance. With every blow, you gritted your teeth and endured, clinging to the last shreds of your resilience as if it were a lifeline.

Homelander’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, his attempts to break you only fueling his anger. Yet, despite his best efforts, you remained silent, your determination unyielding even in the face of such brutal violence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torment, Homelander paused, his cold gaze lingering on your broken form. You lay on the ground, barely conscious, your breaths shallow and ragged.

“Look at you”, he spat, his tone laced with disgust. “Pathetic. Weak. You’re not even worth the dirt beneath my boots”.

Your body screamed in agony, but you were too exhausted to muster a response. Every breath felt like a struggle, and the pain radiating from every inch of your body threatened to overwhelm you.

With a dismissive scoff, Homelander turned away from you, his attention shifting to the doctors who had entered the room behind him. “Get to work”, he ordered them, his voice cold and authoritative. “Run every test possible. I want to know everything about her, no matter how painful”.

The doctors nodded obediently, their expressions unreadable as they approached you.

As the doctors lifted you from the ground and began to carry you out of the room, Ashley appeared at Homelander's side, her brow furrowed in concern. "What happened to her?", she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Homelander's expression remained impassive as he glanced back at you, lying half-conscious in the doctors' arms. "She didn't want to cooperate", he replied simply, his tone tinged with annoyance.

Ashley's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied you, her curiosity piqued by the sight of your battered form. "She looks half dead", she observed.

Homelander shrugged indifferently, his gaze never leaving your prone figure. "She's tougher than she looks", he remarked dismissively. "But we'll see how long that lasts".

With that, the group disappeared through the doorway, leaving the room empty once more, save for the lingering echo of your labored breaths. As you were carried into the depths of the facility, a sense of dread settled over you, knowing that whatever lay ahead would test your resilience like never before.

Ashley's expression darkened with concern as she listened to Homelander's explanation, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Is that such a good idea?", she ventured cautiously, her voice tinged with doubt. "If she's Soldier Boy's girlfriend, won't he come for her sooner or later?".

Homelander's eyes flashed with irritation at the suggestion, his grip tightening on Ashley's throat as he pushed her up against the wall with brutal force. "I don't need your input, Ashley", he hissed, his voice low "I know what I'm doing".

Gasping for breath, Ashley struggled against Homelander's iron grip, her fear palpable in the air between them. "I-I'm just saying…", she stammered, her words choked off by Homelander's unyielding hold.

With a cruel smirk, Homelander leaned in close, his eyes boring into Ashley's with icy intensity. "Do you really think Soldier Boy stands a chance against me?", he taunted. "He's nothing compared to what I am".

As Homelander released his grip on Ashley, she slumped to the ground, gasping for air and rubbing her bruised throat. Trembling, she watched as Homelander strode past her, his expression cold and calculated.

Without sparing her a second glance, Homelander followed the two doctors who were carrying you, his footsteps echoing ominously in the empty hallway. As they entered the lab, the doctors carefully placed you down on a large examination table, your body limp.

Homelander approached the table with an air of authority, his eyes narrowing. "Make sure every test is conducted", he ordered the doctors. "I want to know everything about her, no matter the cost".

The doctors nodded obediently, their expressions grave as they prepared to carry out Homelander's instructions. With a sense of dread weighing heavy in the air, they began their examination, knowing that whatever they discovered could have far-reaching consequences for both you and the world beyond. And as they worked, Homelander watched on with a cold detachment, his mind already plotting his next move in this dangerous game of power and control.

"Tie her up", he ordered.

The doctors exchanged a hesitant glance, their eyes flickering with concern as they looked at your battered and broken body. "But sir, she's already in no condition to resist", one of them ventured tentatively, a note of apprehension in his voice.

Homelander's expression darkened with impatience at their hesitation. "Do it", he snapped. "She may be weak and pathetic, but she'll fight tooth and nail if given the chance. I won't take any risks".

With a resigned nod, the doctors reluctantly set to work, securing your limbs with restraints despite their misgivings. As they tightened the bonds around your wrists and ankles, you stirred slightly, a low groan escaping your lips.

Homelander watched with a cold detachment as they finished their task, his eyes lingering on your bound form with a sense of satisfaction. "Good", he declared. "Now let's see what secrets she's hiding".

With a sense of grim determination, the doctors resumed their examination, knowing that they had little choice but to carry out Homelander's orders.

With clinical precision, they extracted every possible fluid from your broken body, subjecting you to a barrage of painful tests and procedures.

Needles pierced your skin, drawing blood and other bodily fluids as the doctors worked tirelessly to uncover the secrets hidden within you. Each extraction sent waves of agony coursing through your weakened form, but you were bound and helpless, unable to do anything but endure the torment.

Homelander watched with a mixture of fascination and anticipation, his eyes alight with a twisted sense of curiosity as he awaited the results of the tests. With each vial filled with your precious fluids, he grew more impatient, eager to uncover whatever secrets lay buried beneath your battered exterior.

As the hours dragged on, the doctors spared no mercy in their relentless pursuit of knowledge, subjecting you to increasingly painful and invasive procedures. They prodded and probed every inch of your broken body, extracting tissue samples and running tests with a cold efficiency that bordered on cruelty.

Though you could feel yourself slipping further into the abyss with each passing moment, you refused to surrender, clinging to the hope that somehow, someway, you would survive this ordeal.

Meanwhile Frenchie stood anxiously outside the airport, his eyes scanning the arrivals hall for any sign of his teammates. Finally, he spotted them making their way towards him, relief flooding through him as Hughie, MM, Kimiko, and Annie approached.

"About time you guys showed up", Frenchie sighted, opening the door of the car for them.

Kimiko gave Frenchie a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding into the passenger seat, her hands moving gracefully as she signed her concern. "Did you find her?", she signed quietly, her eyes filled with worry.

Frenchie nodded grimly, his hands mirroring her serious expression. "Yeah, but it's not good", he signed back, his movements precise and deliberate. "We need to move fast".

As the car sped towards their destination, Annie leaned forward slightly from the backseat, her expression filled with curiosity. "What could Vought possibly want with her?", she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Frenchie glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his hands still firmly on the wheel. "I'm not sure, but whatever it is, it can't be good",

Hughie nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed with worry. "Vought's always up to something", he remarked, his voice somber.

With each passing mile, the tension in the car grew thicker, the weight of their mission pressing heavily on their minds.

"Did you find Homelander in Europe?", Frenchie asked.

Hughie shook his head. "No, he wasn't anywhere to be found", he replied, his voice tinged with frustration.

Frenchie's shoulders slumped slightly, a sense of disappointment washing over him. "Damn", he muttered quietly.

MM leaned forward from the backseat, his gaze meeting Frenchie's in the rearview mirror. "Soldier Boy and Butcher are on a hot lead, though", he added.

Frenchie nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "Does Soldier Boy know about (Y/N) being gone?", he asked carefully, his eyes flickering with concern.

Annie frowned, her brow furrowing with confusion. "I don't think so", she replied, her tone uncertain. "Why?".

Frenchie sighed, his expression grave. "We need to be careful", he warned. "If Soldier Boy finds out, it could escalate things".

Annie's brow furrowed with confusion as she glanced between Frenchie, Hughie, and MM. "But why would Soldier Boy escalate things if he found out she's gone?", she questioned, her voice laced with concern.

MM's brow furrowed as he considered Frenchie's explanation. "I get that he doesn't like being left out, but… I don´t think he would care that much on this one", he remarked.

Frenchie sighed inwardly, wishing he could divulge the full extent of the situation to his teammates. However, knowing the delicate nature of the relationship between you and Soldier Boy, he opted for a vague response. "Soldier Boy's got a temper", he replied vaguely, his tone cryptic.

Hughie leaned forward, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "You know, Soldier Boy probably cares more about taking down Homelander than anything else", he suggested, his voice tinged with conviction.

Frenchie couldn't help but snort at the remark, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. However, he quickly composed himself, realizing the seriousness of the situation. "Maybe", he replied, trying to downplay his reaction. "But let's focus on finding (Y/N) first".

Annie glanced between them, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Either way, we need to be prepared for anything", she added.

A few minutes later, the team arrived at the Vought tower, its sleek exterior towering above them like a monolithic fortress. With cautious determination, they made their way towards a hidden entrance that Annie knew from her time with The Seven.

As they slipped inside, the air was thick with tension, each footstep echoing softly in the empty halls. They moved with silent precision, their senses alert for any sign of danger.

Annie led the way, her eyes scanning the shadows for any lurking threats. "This way", she whispered, her voice barely audible as she guided them through the labyrinthine corridors.

Frenchie and Hughie followed closely behind. "Keep an eye out for security cameras", Frenchie murmured.

As the team stepped into the elevator, Annie couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her gut. The ease with which they had infiltrated the building seemed too good to be true.

Her brow furrowed in suspicion as she glanced around at her teammates. "This feels too easy", she remarked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Frenchie nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring her unease. "Yeah, something doesn't feel right", he replied.

As the elevator doors slid open, revealing Homelander standing before them with a menacing smirk, the team froze in shock. Their surprise quickly turned to alarm, as the realization dawned on them that their adversary was right in front of them, despite being expected to be halfway across the world.

Homelander's cold gaze swept over the team, his lips curling into a malicious grin. "Look who decided to pay us a visit", he taunted.

"You shouldn't be here", Annie retorted defiantly.

But Homelander just chuckled darkly, his gaze lingering on each member of the team with chilling intensity. "And yet, here I am", he replied, his tone filled with ominous promise. "I suggest you surrender now", he growled, his eyes flashing with lethal intent. "Or things are going to get messy".

The team exchanged tense glances, their hearts pounding with. With a surge of adrenaline, they sprang into action, their movements fluid and coordinated as they launched their attack on Homelander. Annie unleashed a barrage of energy blasts, her powers crackling with raw power as she aimed for her target with precision.

But Homelander was a force to be reckoned with, his reflexes lightning-fast as he effortlessly dodged Annie's attacks. With a flick of his wrist, he knocked her off balance and sending her crashing to the ground.

Frenchie and Hughie rushed forward, their fists flying as they attempted to overpower Homelander with sheer brute force. But the Supe was unfazed, his strength and agility unmatched as he effortlessly blocked their every blow, delivering punishing counterattacks with devastating accuracy.

Meanwhile, MM circled around behind Homelander, his mind racing as he searched for a weakness to exploit. But before he could make a move, Homelander whirled around, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto his target. With a menacing grin, he lunged forward.

The team fought valiantly, their determination unwavering even in the face of overwhelming odds. But no matter how hard they fought, they couldn't seem to gain the upper hand against Homelander's relentless onslaught. With each passing moment, the battle grew more chaotic and intense, until a doctor approached the scene, his expression tense with urgency. "Homelander, she's awake", he announced, his voice quivering with apprehension.

Homelander's eyes narrowed at the news, his attention momentarily diverted from the fight. With a growl of frustration, he turned to a group of nearby guards, his voice booming with authority. "Throw them in a cell", he commanded.

The guards wasted no time in carrying out Homelander's orders, their hands gripping the team firmly as they dragged them away from the chaotic scene.

Meanwhile, Homelander followed the doctor towards the source of the disturbance.

As they approached the room where you were being held, Homelander's pace quickened, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

As Butcher and Soldier Boy pressed forward through the desolate streets of Spain, the weight of their mission heavy on their shoulders. “Why the fuck did the other fuckers bugger off?”, he grumbled, his frustration palpable.

Butcher’s expression darkened at the question, his jaw clenching with tension. “They didn’t bugger off, mate”, he replied tersely, his voice low and gruff. “They went to rescue (Y/N)”.

Ben´s steps faltered at the mention of your name, his heart pounding in his chest. “What do you mean, rescue (Y/N)?”, he demanded.

Butcher’s gaze hardened as he met Ben´s eyes, his words heavy with significance. “Vought took her”, he explained bluntly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Ben´s world seemed to come crashing down around him at Butcher's words, his mind reeling with rage. "Vought took her?", he repeated, his voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

Butcher nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving Soldier Boy's as he confirmed the grim truth. "Aye. And the rest of the team went to get her back", he reiterated, his tone steady despite the intensity of the situation.

A surge of fury surged through Soldier Boy's veins, his temper flaring as he struggled to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions. Without a word, he lunged forward, his hands curling into fists as he shoved Butcher to the ground.

Butcher hit the pavement with a grunt, the impact jolting through his body as he struggled to regain his bearings. He met Soldier Boy's furious gaze with surprise.

Soldier Boy loomed over Butcher, his chest heaving with exertion as he fought to control his rage. "You should've fucking well told me", he seethed, his voice raw with emotion.

Butcher pushed himself up onto his elbows, his expression hardening as he met Soldier Boy’s fiery gaze. “And what good would that have done, eh?”, he shot back, his voice tinged with frustration. “We’ve got bigger bloody priorities now”.

Soldier Boy’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. “Fuck off”, he spat, his tone laced with contempt as he turned away.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”.

Ben didn’t look back as he answered. “I’m fucking going to get her back”.

Butcher quickened his pace to catch up with Soldier Boy. “Listen, mate”, he called out, his voice urgent as he closed the distance between them. “Starlight and the rest of the team, they’ll get her back. We just need to trust them”.

Soldier Boy came to an abrupt halt, his shoulders tense with frustration as he turned to face Butcher. “Trust them?”, he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “They’ll probably just end up fucking it all up”.

Butcher felt a surge of concern as he watched Soldier Boy’s chest start to glow , a silent reminder of the immense power that simmered beneath. “Easy there, mate”, he urged, his voice calm despite the rising tension. “We don’t need any explosions tonight”, he raised both hands.

Soldier Boy gritted his teeth, his frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface as he struggled to contain his temper.

Ben´s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination. "I'm flying back, right now".

Butcher hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks of allowing Soldier Boy to act impulsively against the urgency of the situation. Finally, he nodded in reluctant agreement. "Alright", he conceded, his tone tinged with resignation. "Let's get to the airport".

As the team found themselves confined to a dimly lit cell in the depths of the Vought tower, tension hung heavy in the air. Hughie paced back and forth, his frustration evident in every restless step.

"This is bullshit", he muttered under his breath. "We were so close to getting (Y/N) back".

Annie leaned against the cold concrete wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she surveyed their surroundings. "We need to find a way out of here", she stated , her gaze sweeping over the barred door with a steely determination.

MM nodded in agreement, his expression grim as he assessed their options. "Agreed. But we need to be smart about it", he cautioned.

As Homelander loomed over you at the examination table, his presence casting a sinister shadow over the room, you couldn't suppress the shiver of fear that coursed through your battered body. His smirk sent a chill down your spine as he gazed down at you with chilling satisfaction.

With a cruel glint in his eyes, Homelander turned to the doctors standing nearby. "Give her the double dose of pure Compound V", he ordered.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the doctors moved to obey his command, their expressions grim with resignation. As they prepared the syringe, dread washed over you like a tidal wave.

Homelander's gaze never wavered as he turned back to you, his smirk widening into a predatory grin. "This should probably kill you", he taunted, his words echoing with a chilling finality.

As the doctors approached with the syringe filled with Compound V, your muscles tensing in anticipation of the excruciating pain to come. You gritted your teeth, bracing yourself for the inevitable torment.

The doctors injected the double dose of Compound V into your bloodstream, the burning sensation spreading like wildfire through your veins. Agony tore through you, every nerve in your body ablaze with searing pain as the powerful substance coursed through your system.

You cried out in torment, your screams echoing off the sterile walls of the lab as you writhed in agony on the examination table. The world blurred around you, consumed by the white-hot agony that consumed every fiber of your being.

Homelander watched with cold detachment. "Pathetic", he sneered.

As the potent Compound V surged through your veins, the intensity of the pain became unbearable. Your vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges as your consciousness slipped away once more

Since you were unconscious, Homelander returned to the team.

His grin widened as he stood in front of the cell. "Well", he taunted. "Do you lot know about your little friend's impressive talents with Compound V?".

The team exchanged wary glances.

Homelander watched the team's expressions. "You see, your friend is pretty much dead", he explained. "But somehow, she still refuses to die".

An eerie silence fell over the room as the weight of Homelander's words settled upon the captive team. Again, they exchanged fearful glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in with each passing moment.

Frenchie´s jaw clenched tightly, his fists balling at his sides as he struggled to contain his rising anger. "What have you done to her?", he demanded.

But Homelander just chuckled. "Oh, nothing that she didn't bring upon herself", he replied casually. "But don't worry, I have big plans for her".

With a cold smirk, Homelander turned and strode away from the cell, leaving the team to grapple with the chilling realization of the danger you were facing.

"We can't just sit here and do nothing", Frenchie declared.

Annie nodded in agreement, her eyes flashing with urgency as she scanned their surroundings for any potential means of escape. "We need to find a way out of here".

Kimiko signed urgently, her movements quick and deliberate as she communicated her assent to the rest of the team. MM nodded solemnly, his expression grave as he prepared himself for the daunting task ahead.

Frenchie let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping with defeat as he glanced around the cell. “But… there’s no way out”, he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation. “These cells are designed to hold in any kind of supe or human, no matter how strong”.

Annie’s brows furrowed with frustration as she considered their predicament. “There has to be something we can do”, she insisted.

Hughie and MM exchanged worried glances, the gravity of their situation sinking in. “We’re screwed”, Hughie muttered.

As you slowly stirred from your slumber, your body aching from the ordeal you had endured, you found yourself greeted by the sight of Homelander looming over you, a cruel smirk playing on his lips

The doctors bustled around you, their movements precise and methodical as they continued to run another battery of tests, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Homelander's patience seemed to wear thin as he observed the proceedings, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "What's taking so long?", he demanded, his voice sharp with impatience. "I want results, and I want them now".

The lead doctor glanced nervously at Homelander before returning his attention to his work, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the instruments. "We're doing everything we can, sir", he assured him, his voice trembling with fear.

But Homelander wasn't satisfied with the response, his temper flaring as he turned his attention back to you. "How is she still alive?", he spat, his voice tinged with disbelief. "She's just a human. That much of Compound V should have killed her by now".

As the hours dragged on, the relentless barrage of tests and procedures continued unabated, each one more invasive and agonizing than the last.

You drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain and exhaustion threatening to overwhelm you with each passing moment. Each time you faded into unconsciousness, you prayed for the sweet release of oblivion, only to be pulled back into the waking nightmare of your reality.

With each cut and incision, you felt your strength waning, your body growing weaker and more fragile with each passing moment. Yet still, you clung to life, your will to survive burning bright even in the face of such relentless torment.

Homelander watched with a mixture of fascination and frustration, his impatience growing with each failed attempt to unlock the secrets hidden within your seemingly ordinary frame. He paced the room restlessly, his eyes never leaving your prone form as he silently urged the doctors to try more drastic measures, unwilling to accept defeat.

With a roar of anger, he lashed out at the nearest piece of equipment, sending it crashing to the ground in a shower of sparks.

The doctors scrambled to appease him, their fear palpable in the air as they desperately tried to placate the enraged supe. But nothing seemed to calm Homelander's fury, his anger consuming him like a raging inferno.

In the midst of the chaos, you remained unconscious, oblivious to the turmoil unfolding around you. Your body lay still and lifeless, the only sign of your struggle the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

With a swift and deadly grace, Soldier Boy materialized behind the doctors, his presence like a shadow in the darkness. Without hesitation, he seized each of them by the heart, ripping the organs from their chests with a sickening crunch before tossing them aside like discarded toys.

As the lifeless bodies crumpled to the ground, Soldier Boy turned to face Homelander, his eyes smoldering with a fierce intensity. “You’ve made a fucking mistake”, he growled.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 I can't wait to upload Chapter 16

Part 16

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles @sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl @emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444 @seasonofthenerd @staple-your-mouth

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #billy butcher #the boys hughie #hughie campbell #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #angst #hurtful #injury

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shanastoryteller · 5 months

Note

happy holidays! siat asim and lucius please

There's a soft trilling coming from his fireplace and Asim almost doesn't answer it. It's late and he's just come back from a shift that was hell and sometimes he wonders if he's doing any good at all or if he's just there so people can suffer differently before dying painfully.

There are so, so many ways to hurt people and often only one way to save them. He knows too much of the former and not enough of the latter.

His fireplace makes another enquiring trill and he taps the brick with his wand.

It's Lucius.

He only ever calls him for one reason.

Asim accepts the call and is unsurprised to see his fireplace empty. He's likely not in any condition to be crawling on the floor, not that his sort ever do that sort of thing. There's a reason that fireplaces tall enough to stand in are almost standard in magical homes - no one is interested in getting on there hands in knees when they could just lean forward.

He steps into the flames, finding himself spit out in the townhouse in France that Lucius started living in after graduation. It's not much distance from Abraxas, but he'd been glad of it anyway.

There can never be enough distance from Abraxas, which he's reminded of when he looks over to see Lucius laying shirtless on his stomach on the chaise, his head resting on his left arm and his other arm drags to the ground where his hand is gripped around a glass of firewhiskey.

His back looks like hamburger meat.

It's nothing but long cuts and blood, more exposed muscle than should exist outside of a butcher.

"Sorry," he slurs, eyes hazy as they slowly meet his. "Potions took care of the little stuff."

He's known Lucius long enough that he flinches at the idea of what he considers the little stuff. He's more than aware enough of what it has to be, considering the caliber of healing potions he has access too.

Broken bones take a lot. After that, healing potions can get a little confused. There's a reason bones are better healed by a spell. It was probably that, but he knows better than to ask.

Asim shoves down familiar anger and says, "How long were you waiting? You could have called another healer."

Lucius doesn't say anything even as he starts, running a diagnostic spell then beginning the time consuming process of healing every laceration separately. If he doesn't, Lucius's body just stops accepting the magic, not reacting well to broad application.

Overexposure, probably, but it's not like he can just be left bleeding. Abraxas wishes Lucius would let him add it to his chart.

His breath hitches at a particularly deep wound, then he says, "You're the only one that doesn't talk."

Asim hates people sometimes. There are trustworthy healers out there, but he supposes they don't do house calls without asking questions. He probably shouldn't, either.

But he just can't leave him bleeding.

"You should be more careful," he says instead. He knows it's not an accident, that this can't be an accident, but they never talk about what it really is. They never talk about Abraxas.

Lucius smiles, which is shocking enough that Asim stops mid-spell. "I knew this would happen. It's a price I'm willing to pay."

This is more than he's ever gotten from him before. It's oddly disconcerting. "Lucius?"

"I got engaged," he says.

Asim waits for more, but when Lucius just keeps silent and smiling as he continues to work on his back, he says, "Congratulations."

A wife of Lucius's choosing rather than Abraxas's. Maybe she can do some good.

Anyone he loves enough to go through this to have won't sit back and watch as her husband suffers. He hopes.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #harry potter #siat

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yameoto · 6 months

Note

OMG I JUST SEEN YOUR CHARACTER LIST THAT YOU WRITE FOR CAN YOU PLEASE GIVE SOME GHOSTFACE SAM X READER RELATIONSHIP HEADCANNONS 🤍

SAM CARPENTER GHOSTFACE HEADCANONS ! and yes i do have a bot for this.

✗ warnings ; murder, controlling behaviour, manipulation, general ghostface girlfriend toxicity. nsfw at bottom dom/sub. marking, knife!kink, free-use ment

protectiveness dialled to the MAX. if you think she was bad before its nothing compared to now. and i mean kill-people-who-look-at-you-the-wrong way type of bad. "oh, don't even worry, baby. i took care of it."

she has to be near you at all times; scratch that—has to be TOUCHING you at all times. seriously cant stand it when you're not wrapped around her fucking koala and will make it everyone's problem.

would never ever EVER hurt you. she hurts people for you—no matter if you want her too or not. besides, she has other ways of keeping you quiet.

when she took off the mask she wasn't even the slightest bit worried, as fucked up as that sounds. she knew you'd never leave her; you love her too much, she loves you too much. how could you ever give her up? she did this all for you.

calls you "doll" or "angel" almost exclusively—but not just that. you're her doll, you're her angel—her own precious little thing and you're never gonna leave her, okay?

but one can never be too sure; so she isolates you from all your friends to make sure you really can't leave. controlling to the point where if you lived with her you wouldn't be able to leave the house without her. but that's okay—she's doing it because she loves you. she's protecting you.

because she's off her meds she starts to see billy more and more, and she won't take them no matter how much you beg her too. sometimes you wake up to her see her sitting up staring blankly at the wall, eyes slightly glazed-over as if she's seeing something that's not there and it scares you too fucking pieces. it'll happen sometimes in public, too, like when someone gets a little too touchy with you or even, sometimes, when you get on her nerves ; which is definitely the most terrifying one.

(he's telling her to make you hers. telling her to take you for herself and leave a bloody fucking mess in her wake. whoever the fuck thinks they could ever take you from her is in for nasty, gory surprise.)

you're her anchor point. you're the only one who can ever calm her down if it gets too much. and you can tell, too, when chad's just running his mouth a bit too loudly and her hand is twitching towards the butcher's knife on the counter and you have to twist round and cup her cheeks, pepper kisses to her lips and she just melts — all potentially murderous urges forgotten as she wraps your arms around you.

nsfw !

so fucking handsy. CANNOT keep her hands off you. has the annoying tendency to squeeze your ass or tits whenever she walks past

even when you're in public which makes it so fucking degrading. you could be talking to a stranger at the club and she'll just lean over to grope your tits in full view of the guy you're talking to. just so fucking casual as she strides past, like its the most normal thing in the world.

and tbh it kind of IS, so when the guy stands up all angry for you and you're just sitting there spluttering and have to go "no i— i let her.." like the little slut you are

so so rough in bed. borderline violent. she just can't help it, not when you get that delicious spark of fear in your eyes and you plead with her with those plush, parted lips like you're just begging to be used and abused.

obsessed with leaving bruises and hand-prints on you during sex. gives her the deepest pleasure to see you all marked up, so clearly hers. it makes her cock stand up just thinking of it.

has made you walk around the house completely naked after a good bruising before just to admire her handiwork. and to make you easy for use, of course.

marking you up with her initials on the base of your neck so everybody knows that you’re hers.

definite knife!kink. dragging the dull edge of the blade along your thigh.. smiling to herself as you tremble under the cold, cold metal grazing your folds.

fucking you as she does it—fingers swirling so goddamn slowly that makes your eyes water, each time she flicks your clit your body screams at you—but you can’t move. bc there's a knife right fucking there and then it'll be your fault if she hurts you—not hers. she told you to keep still, didn't she?

#(╯°^°)╯head💣canons #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x afab reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter headcanons #sam carpenter #sam carpenter bot #scream

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dragon-kazansky · 9 days

Text

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Six - Blood and bonds

☆☆☆

The demons of Hell were all excited as they cheered. Whatever this game was, it was clearly a big deal. You had no idea what was happening. For your own comfort, you chose to watch Dream. Matthew is perched up above you. Morpheus and Lucifer stood facing one another.

He had to win. There was more than his helm on the line now. Dream had sworn to himself he would protect you. Hell could not have you.

Choronzon stood on the balcony with the helmet in his hand. Lucifer and Morpheus stood on either side of him.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, for your entertainment and delectation, a formal challenge."

The demons cheer.

"The challenger is Dream. Once the master of the Realm of Sleep."

The demons boo.

Morpheus turns slowly and looks at you. You look back at him. He steps away from the balcony and makes his way toward you while Choronzon announces Lucifer as the other player. The demons cheer for their ruler.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly.

"Fine." You reply shortly.

"I will not let Hell have you."

Your gaze on him softens. "You don't have to make a fuss of me. Me for the helm was probably a good deal. It must be important to you if you were willing to come to Hell for it."

"I would not trade you in this life or any other. You are my soulmate, and you shall come back to the Dreaming with me." He speaks softly. "If anything happens to me, take my sand and use it."

"No. No. Don't say that."

"Promise me," he says.

You shake your head. You find yourself reaching out and grabbing his hand. "You can't leave me. You're my only way out."

"My sand will work for you."

"I don't care about the sand. I... I just need you to be okay. Please. Don't leave me."

"Morpheus, am I interrupting a premlinary of some kind?" Lucifer asks.

"Just a little pre-game pep talk." You say. "Your majesty." You bow your head. "We came for the helm, and we're not leaving without it," you talk more to Morpheus now.

He looks at you again silently.

"We shall see," Lucifer says, amused.

You let go of his hand, and Morpheus flexes his hand slightly. He steps away from you, though reluctantly. He doesn't like the look of fear in your eyes.

He wants to keep you safe. He needs to secure your safety. You need to come back to the Dreaming with him.

"As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move." Lucifer says.

"Very well. Make your move."

You stand there with baited breath as you watch the pair of them. Your eyes linger on the Devil. There was so much at risk here.

"I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler."

You turn your eyes to Morpheus.

"I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing."

Lucifer grunts as they receive a wound through their body. That's the first hit. Morpheus drew blood from Lucifer. You watch carefully for the next move.

"I am a serpent. Horse-biting... poison-toothed."

Your eyes are drawn to Morpheus as the poison floods his veins. His breaths come out in short, ragged puffs. You hadn't realised how dangerous and severe this game was. This was crazy.

"I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping."

The poison leaves his body. Lucifer receives three long slashes across the face. More blood is drawn.

"I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying."

Morpheus falls to his knees as his flesh appears to be eaten away. You stare in horror. Was he going to die playing this? This was horrible.

"I am a world." He says slowly. "Space-floating, life-nurturing."

His body heals. You look at him in awe. He is still able to play. You smile softly.

"I am a nova." Lucifer says. "All-exploding, planet-cremating."

Morpheus lays on the ground, his flesh scorched. That was a big hit. You can't stand this anymore. Lucifer is doing mkre damage to him, and it's starting to make you feel sick.

His eyes flick to you. He can see the worry glistening in your eyes. "I am a universe." He whispers weakly. "All things encompassing, all life embracing."

You smile softly. Perhaps there is much more to this man than you're aware of. Perhaps it isn't quite fair to judge him so quickly.

"I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything."

Morpheus goes cold. He lays there, unable to lift his head. His breathing is shallow. This is the worst he's looked all game. What is he supposed to do now?

"What will you be then, Dream Lord?"

He tries to move, but he can't. You can't help yourself anymore. You rush over to him and touch him gently. "Get up," you whisper. He doesn't move. He shivers under your hands, and for a moment, you think this is it.

"Come on," you say softly. "Say something. Anything. You have to win, remember? You have to win for me."

He looks up at you through his lashes. His breath is quiet and shaky. He looks like he's dying.

"Still with us, Dream?" Lucifer asks, amused by this display.

"He is! And it's his move, Your Majesty." You say, glancing up at Lucifer. You turn back to Dream. "Come on. There has to be something."

"There are no more moves." Lucifer states. "What can survive the anti-life?"

You continue to caress his face gently. He stares at you through dark eyes.

"You can survive the anti-life," you whisper. "Dreams can survive anything. I dreamt of you. Every night. While I was locked away in my room with nothing else left, I had you. All that time, you were locked away under the house, and I didn't know, but I felt you. I had you in my dreams, and that was enough."

Your words strike something in him. He had no idea you had been dreaming about him. All that time, and he had no idea he was able to get through to you. Unintentionally, but still. You had him.

"I... am..." Morpheus gets up on his knees. You keep a hand on his back as you watch him. He looks up at Lucifer. "Hope."

Morpheus rises to his feet.

"Hope." Lucifer speaks softly.

You smile softly as you look up at him.

"Well, Lightbringer?" Morpheus asks. "It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

Lucifer knows they have lost. They turn to the demon. "Choronzon. Give him his helm."

"No. I won't. It's mine. Please."

Mazikeen throws Choronzon off the balcony after taking the helmet from him. Morpheus approaches the demon and takes the helmet from her, thanking her in the process.

"Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honourable, indeed. I will not forget this."

"Honourable? You joke, surely." Lucifer walks closer to where you two stand. "Look out there, Morpheus. The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all... What power have dreams in Hell?"

Morpheus smirks slightly. "You say I have no power here. Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell... Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream... of Heaven?"

Lucifer is clearly seething under that calm exterior. You can see it in their eyes.

"One day, Morpheus... we shall destroy you."

Morpheus leans in close, seemingly bowing, and looks Lucifer in the eye. "Until that day, Lightbringer."

With his helm in hand, Morpheus walks away. You follow him quietly. Matthew flies by your head. The raven had been watching everything quietly. He was curious about you and his master. However, he kept his thoughts to himself for now.

You follow Morpheus out the gates and back out to the wastelands you had arrived in. You couldn't help but worry slightly. You knew Lucifer was beyond pissed off after today.

Dream was still in his battle gear. It was very fitting for him. He looked... good. It felt weird to think about it, though.

You watch as he puts his helm on.

"Can you actually see in that thing?" You ask. It was a peculiar thing. It looked like it was made out of bones...

"I can. I can see the ruby."

"Your ruby?"

"Yes. Come here." He turns to you, but you can't see his face now he wears his helm. It's rather intimidating.

You stand closer to him and watch as he takes his sand from his pocket. Matthew stands between you both, looking up at the pair of you.

Dream pours the sand into his palm, and it swirls around you both. You instantly reach put and grab his arm gently. His surprise by your action is hidden by his helm.

You arrive at a storage house. You take a look around you and find yourself no longer in Hell. You feel the tension leave your body and let go of Dream.

He looks down at his arm, where you have touched him and tries to commit the warmth of your hand to memory. You take a step away from him, and he comes back to his senses.

He leads you inside.

"I can sense it. My ruby. It's here."

He walks through the shelves and finds the glow of his ruby emitting from a crate on the shelf. He reaches out and smiles as he takes the ruby from within. He holds it up and looks at it.

"Something is wrong."

You frown and are about to ask what was wrong, but as he touches the ruby, it explodes with power in his hand and sends him flying backwards.

"Dream!"

He doesn't respond. You rush over to where he lies and tap his face a few times. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

He doesn't respond.

The door to the storage unit opens, and you hear someone enter. A man in a long coat and slippers kneels down and picks up the ruby. It doesn't seem to affect him. You watch him walk away with it.

You turn your attention to the man in your arms. "Please get up." You whisper. "Wake up..." You feel tears in your eyes.

You don't know what to do.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden -

#heart of the dreaming #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman #soulmate au #dragon writes

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

Note

aali………please please tell us exactly what Rin said about Isagi not being able to fuck that had Egoist Yoichi baby boy fuck reader right in front of Rin 😭 i KNEED to know I must know babes or I’ll go insane

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— lost in the lights, out of my mind + yoichi isagi, rin itoshi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — rin itoshi has a bad habit of dishing out what he can't take and a locker room fight with his rival, yoichi isagi, leaves him in the most vulnerable place he'll ever be in. all because of his little unrequited crush on you.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! heavy!smut, porn with some kind of plot, characters aged up to 20s, established relationships (with isagi), unrequited love (rin lmao), some crushing, manipulaton, reverse cuckholding (?), voyuerism, unprotected s!ex, clothed s!ex, fingering (f!receiving), finger sucking, nipple play, body worship, dry humping, multiple orgasms, male masturbation, overstimulation, edging, orgasm control, aftercare, light!degradation, light!dacryphilia, light!sub/dom dynamics, sort of a threesome, creampies, psychologically tormenting rin lmao!!! pro player!yoichi isagi, pro player!rin itoshi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 8.5K.

⭑ notes — happy birthday tew me!! this is my gift to you all, i feel like its such a tradition for me to post something on my bday like i have for the last three years so here you are!! anon, i am so sorry this took so long, i hope you like this... i lost my mind writing it but it was sososo much fun!! enjoy my loves <3 m.list / fic that this refers to (you dont need to read it to understand!) ✩

if there’s one thing rin hates more than anything, it’s losing. after a sour defeat, three goals to a frustrating two, emotions are running high and the locker room fills with an atmosphere so tense even a butcher's knife couldn’t cut through it. it suffocates the boys as they flood into the room, defeatedtly shoving their cleats and water bottles into their cubbyholes — their breathing ragged and muscles aching.

the silence is shattered by a vicious snarl from blue lock’s main star, yoichi isagi, as he walks in last and heads straight for his rival. “way to fucking go, rin! your stupid little act just cost us the entire game.” the striker bares his fangs, frothing like a rabid dog. “you happy now?”

“oh fuck you, isagi. were all your shots supposed to be that half-assed? or was that just a weak attempt to impress your little girlfriend up in the stands.” rin fires back, equally as riled up, throwing his sweat soaked shirt into his designated cubby for this game.

the rest of the team knows not to intervene when two of their best players go head to head, slowly retreating to the showers and changing out of their kit. rin is too highly strung, everything is his way or the highway and everyone is beneath him. isagi is hot headed, switches up on you faster than you can say your own name — and only gets worse if you mention his girlfriend during a fight.

for a moment, the dark haired striker’s face falls and his deep blue eyes cloud with something rin itoshi only ever sees on the pitch. but isagi quickly recovers, offering the other player a tight lipped smile.

“let’s keep her out of this, yeah?”

that only makes rin want to double down.

his relationship with isagi is complex — he’s better than the guy in every way he knows is possible, and yet he envies him. no matter what rin does, his fellow player will always have some kind of leverage over him. whether it be sae’s approval, ego’s favouritism, you. the history between the three of you is even more confusing and flustering, and to this day, rin still doesn’t know who he wants or hates more. jealousy reaches its boiling point at the forefront of his mind, it’s perplexing and he hates the way it makes him feel — like he’s out of the loop, out of control and it only makes rin want to lash out at isagi more.

so he does.

he pokes and prods at isagi, twists at the parts of him that really set him off because he has no other way to cope and no other outlet for his build up of emotions.

“she must be embarrassed,” rin drawls as if he’s enjoying taunting his teammate, though his face shows no signs of it. “to have a boyfriend who can’t even play soccer without looking luke-warm or mediocre. this is your job. your life. and yet, you’re still not getting it. you’re nowhere near being on the same level as me.”

isagi grits his teeth. “i’m warning you, rin. quit while you’re ahead.”

but he can’t, he won’t. not until he makes isagi hurt the same way he does. for losing this match, for losing control.

“if soccer is your life and you’re this bad at it, then i wonder what else you suck at,” the younger itoshi brother adds coldly with the petulance of a child still learning how to navigate how he feels. standing up to his full height, rin smirks as if he’s finally put his enemy into place. he lets his emotions spill into every word he says until they weigh down his tongue and all he can spit out are phrases of malice. “being a good boyfriend? fucking her right?”

satisfaction curls around rin’s beating heart as isagi looks to him; wide eyed and bewildered. there’s nothing like reminding someone where they belong in the food chain. beneath rin itoshi and never above. isagi flounders like a fish before him, searching for words of defence that never come and when rin thinks that the shorter of the two might finally say something — the door to the locker room creaks open and in comes…

you.

if there’s another thing that rin hates, it’s how weak you make him feel — especially when he knows that you’re out of reach. not his to touch. to hold. to keep. you can’t be the reason he feels so open an exposed, like a patient on an examiners table, because he can’t have feelings for you anymore, because you belong to isagi. your heart beats for him and that makes rin sick.

he wants to hate you, even though you’re sweet and kind and understanding. even though you step into the room wearing isagi’s number with doe eyes that glisten underneath the white artificial light. even though your voice fills him with warmth when you call out for your boyfriend (not him) and say. “yoichi, is everything okay?” in that mawkish tone that sends shivers down the length of rin’s spine.

and like he’s been snapped out of a trance, isagi looks away from rin’s face and searches for comfort in your own — his body instinctively gravitating towards you for affection. “yeah precious, what are you doing here?” he grins at you like he wasn’t just about to rip rin’s throat out with his teeth. “thought i was meeting you outside.”

“yeah but…some of the other boys and your manager got worried that something was happening between you and rin, so i came to check on you…i hope that’s okay?” you’re so good, well behaved and it’s all for isagi. it makes rin want to scream, rip his hair out, hurt something but he can’t. he won’t because he’s never been good at feelings. he has his older brother to thank for that.

rin watches the interaction between you both like he’s on the outside looking in. isagi treats you like you’re the world encompassed into one being. yet, there’s a glint swirling in those ocean eyes rin despises so much. “more than okay, baby…actually, i think you might be able to help us make up.” isagi hums, twirling you in his arms until your back is to his chest and you’re facing rin now too.

“…i can?” regrettably, your interest is piqued. isagi has that look in his eye, the one that he gets when he’s scheming and he has all the cards in his hands. except this time, he’s not looking at you.

rin itoshi seems to be the target of your boyfriend’s games tonight — and you, a mere chess piece on the board.

“mhm…” yoichi’s voice drops, brushing over the patch in your brain that controls your pleasure. you know that voice, you’ve heard it a million times before…during showers, early in the morning, right after games. the way he speaks switches up whenever isagi wants you. “you see, pretty girl, rinnie over here—“ the striker juts his chin out in the direction of his rival, using the sweet little nickname he knows you have for him. “doesn’t think i can be a good boyfriend, thinks i’m embarrassing, thinks i can’t fuck. would you say any of those statements are true?”

you frown, lips drawn into pout and brows creased where they meet in the centre. “n-no! of course not.”

and rin thinks he might die there and then, with you looking at him like you’re disappointed in his opinion.

for as long as he’s known you, you’ve never cared about the feud between himself and your partner but this particular comment seems to bother you. upset you. and as much as he pretends to be indifferent towards you, the last thing rin itoshi wants to do is hurt your feelings. he’s never quite known what it’s like to care for someone — aside from sae, pre-spain. so for him to consider your feelings with every interaction you have is weird, at least for him. you’re a baffling enigma to rin, he finds himself drawn to you like a moth to a candle flame and finds comfort in your sugary conversation and polite laughter.

you seemed to like rin, for all his awkwardness and lack of charm. you had once called him cute despite his rough exterior and cold nature — leading him to believe that he could maybe try a little harder for you, be with you. that was, at least, until isagi came along and swept you off your feet with boyish smiles and rose tinted cheeks.

isagi could do with you what rin couldn’t do for himself.

be open with his admiration for you.

for a second, you cut the connection between rin’s aquamarine eyes and your own to glance back up at your boyfriend.

“we should prove him wrong, then.”

“but rinnie— i mean, rin,” you correct yourself when isagi tightens his grip on you as you try to diffuse the situation as best you can. “he wouldn’t… he doesn’t care about stuff like that. i know you’re a good boyfriend. isn’t that all that matters?” but in a twisted sort of way, you like that he’s a little pissed off, that rin is there watching you all loved up on each other too.

you feel his excitement press into your behind, arm wrapping around your tummy this time. “you’re all that matters to me,” isagi affirms because it’s true. he shouldn’t really care what rin thinks, but he left his rationality on the pitch. he’s pissed off and he lost and all he can think about is fucking you up and proving his point. soothing his ego. his flirtatious voice tickles the shell of your ear and sends a strong current of electricity straight down to your centre. “but baby, i wanna fuck you. don’t you want him to watch? help me prove that i’m so fucking good to you?”

he just can’t let it go, not this time.

is it because he thinks rin’s words are true? that he’s not good enough for you? that you might even deserve better than a man that puts his heart and trust into soccer?

yoichi loves you so much he think he might rip stars from the sky, and maybe the the sun if you’d asked him to. he’s so good to you, he knows that. you know it too, but he wants to prove it.

have the one up on rin just this once.

you give a slight nod of your head because maybe you’re just as much of an egoist as isagi. you don’t want him to doubt himself, he’s the best in japan. in the world. at soccer, at loving you too. he deserves to show off that much. so you agree, hesitantly, “but, yoichi… rin is still…” you say. not that you care, you’ve partially forgotten that itoshi still exists — isagi’s loving touch as he feels you up from over your jersey provides a perfect distraction.

he’s always like this with you, makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the room.

“don’t worry precious. he’ll look but he won’t touch, unless he asks and you say yes. right, rinnie?”

it’s the first time in minutes that either of you finally acknowledge rin. the stretching silence filled with ragged breathing and the rustling of clothing as rin watches you lose yourself to lust. to isagi.

“right.” he scoffs like he doesn’t care, barely able to tear his eyes away from your slither of skin revealed as you pull up your jersey to give isagi better access.

“spread your legs baby, lemme see that pretty pussy. wanna show her off.” isagi hums in satisfaction but he doesn’t push, letting you lead. “you want it any way, precious? tell me what you need, i’ll give it to you.” his hands run down to your soft tummy, resting just above the hem of your boy shorts while he grinds into you from behind. “just wanna make you feel good.”

choices, choices.

the ghost of yoichi’s touch along your skin, a thumb on your faint adam’s apple, then over your nipple — it makes saliva pool heavily on your tongue and your eyelashes flutter. “w-what do you think, rinnie?” you gasp, lifting your head to face him.

the younger itoshi swallows thickly. “fingers.” he says without hesitation. “you gotta prep her first, idiot.”

“still so rude, rin,” your boyfriend tuts mockingly. “c’mere. get ‘em nice and wet for her.” isagi points to his mouth — gesturing for his rival to open up for his fingers.

“fuck off, isagi. i-i’m not— you’re not going anywhere near me.”

“oh come on, you’re the one that wanted to prep her. my girl can take it with or without.” isagi presses, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a cocky smirk. “this was your decision, remember?”

the mere thought of doing anything remotely sexual with yoichi has the fortress of rin itoshi’s mind crumbling, starting with it’s foundation. he’s not disgusted by the idea, no, but he fears letting his mask slip. “if you’re not willing to take care of her properly, then you’re just proving my point. you’re half-hearted. lukewarm. you don’t care to fuck her proper.” rin scoffs, ignoring the shake in his voice.

“please, rinnie,” you hiccup. “he won’t touch me if you don’t…p-play along.”

but when it’s you, rin can’t ever seem to say no to you.

you’re like a siren calling out to him to drown himself in all that he desires — your saccharine and salacious strings of words setting his insides alight with wanton. begrudgingly, rin strides towards you both and grabs your boyfriend’s wrist with flaming cheeks, heart hammering in his chest so hard he’s afraid you might hear it and think him weak.

the gentle part of his lips encircle two of isagi’s fingers and is tongue, once tucked away behind rows of brilliant white teeth, breaks free from its barrier to roll over the slender digits — glazing them in a of spit. rin feels degraded, it pours through him in the same thickness as his blood and replaces all the oxygen in his lungs. but then you look at rin like you want him, dainty gaze honed in on the way his tongue weaves between your boyfriend’s fingers and soaks them in his claim. he can’t help but grow more confident in the action.

but then yoichi reminds you both of his presence, thrusting into rin’s obedient mouth until his gags and his tropical ocean eyes blow wide in shock at the sound. isagi’s own blue pair drown in mirth.

“satisfied?” rin let’s your boyfriend go with a wet smack of his lips, rasping his words out as he regains his breath.

“not really, but she can help with that.” isagi sounds like he adores you, plunging his spit slicked fingers past your swell of your plump lips so you can get them even wetter for him. you seem eager, sucking on them as if you’re chasing the younger itoshi sibling’s flavour and the visuals make his cock twitch behind his elasticated shorts as he pictures you mouthing at the ache between his legs.

once isagi is truly satisfied, he pulls out of your mouth and pats your cheek lovingly. “did such a good job, precious. i’m gonna touch you now, okay?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond since you’re too delirious, giggling on trickles of ecstasy from being pampered in your lover’s hold. his hand slips in between your plush thighs and underneath your clothes easily, yoichi dragging a single digit along the length of your puffy folds to get a feel for just how messy you are. you’re dripping with sweet juices, the scent of you intoxicating and potent to both boys as isagi eases the finger past your clenching hole experimentally.

you hiccup and tremble, your head rolling back against his shoulder the more his thickness presses into you and stretches you out for later. rin can see just how much you make isagi’s skin shine with your wetness, clear strings of it oozing down your thighs and into the seat of his rival’s palm — all this from being barely touched? from watching rin suck on your boyfriend’s fingers so pathetically? you’ve barely been touched as it is.

it only makes the throb at rin’s core that much more painful.

“don’t you even think about touching yourself to this. you’re lucky enough to even be watching her,” blue lock’s shining star grunts out to rin possessively, his voice laden with a lust that scratches at his throat. you whine out for more, hips jutting downwards to chase more of isagi and his attention switches back to you. “sorry for the wait, precious. there we go, is this alright? is this how you want it?” his softness has you melting like butter in a pan, isagi easing a second finger alongside the first before he curls them to bare down harshly on your g-spot.

the moan that escapes you is a far cry from your angelic nature in rin’s eyes, reminding him that isagi’s the one who cast you out of heaven. “m-more yoichi,” you squirm impatiently, back arching away from the striker’s chest as he used his free hand to toy with yours. “faster, c’mon—!”

“alright baby, relax. we’ll do whatever you want.” isagi moans back desperately, as if your pleasure is his pleasure. he changes the angle of his hand so that the back of it is facing rin, creating the visual of him cupping your sweltering, glistening pussy. you drool into the seat of his palm while he works you open, stroking your velvet and sopping insides like the tide lapping at the shoreline to indulge you and build the pressure that bubbles just under your naval. “oh, you like that? want me to rub your clit too? just like that precious,”

the rough pad of his thumb draws signatures of love against your budding clit as your arousal pearls on it it. every push and pull of isagi’s fingers have you a syrupy mess, glinting under the artificial lights and only drawing rin’s eager gaze to the treasure between your thighs. when he looks to your face all he sees is your insatiable appetite and dire need to run after the high your boyfriend plans to give you.

rin’s tongue darts out to wet the crack on his lips and he attempts to swallow the saliva that coats his tongue and floods his mouth — making it difficult for him to breathe. and if he does, manage to breathe in, the scent of you is intoxicating and fills rin with a level of desire his body can’t even handle. shame brews below the surface level of his skin, intertwined with the blood cells that surge through his veins and right to the tip of his shaft.

he flinches as it pulses to life inside his briefs, pathetically wet from how wet you sound.

“listen to that, fuck,” isagi groans, his lashes fluttering against the side of your face the deeper he plunges two fingers into you. “cunt sounds so pretty baby. sucking me in like that, s’like you never wanna let me go.”

the way isagi touches you is intoxicating — casting a dark veil over every thought that dares to cross your mind and clouding your better judgement. with him it’s easy to be this vulnerable and allow yourself to crumble to pieces in front of the hawk-like gaze of someone you know all too well. you find yourself not caring about the way rin watches you, pools of tropical ocean eyes dropping from your eyes to your pulsing sex where your boyfriend pinches and toys with your folds to get you wetter and wetter.

you’re fucking enjoying this. isagi knows it. rin knows it — the three of you trapped under the spell and vulgar scent of sex that mingles with the air you breathe in. you hardly feel bad for teasing the poor itoshi baby like this, finding the shaky mewls and squeals that you usually save for your boyfriend are a little louder than usual — spiking even higher when blue lock’s star egoist pulls back the hood of your clit to maximise your sensitivity and receptiveness to his touch, rubbing your juices into the little nub.

“tell him how good it feels.” yoichi is so loving but oh so condescending, commanding the will of your body as he curls his fingers just right to brush over the spongy spot inside of you to make you see the gates of heaven.

your pretty pussy gushes in response before you can, milky white running down isagi’s forearm as it gathers in the seat of his palm. you’re desperate to speak, but your mouth feels as if it’s been stuffed with cotton and your words are replaced by shaky and choked moans. between being finger fucked to the brink verge of collapse and watching rin try to grind against his boxers for friction — you don’t know how your boyfriend expects you to form a cohesive thought, let alone speak.

still, you manage to stutter out some kind of praise to him. “oh god, f-fuck, yoichi!”

when isagi hits your g-spot, you spasm so hard you think you might die and at the same time, rin’s needy whimper echoes around the locker room as if to taunt him. “she’s close,” rin bleats, the pain in his cock becoming too much to bare as he fumbles over the front of his shorts to reprehensibly relieve himself. “aren’t you gonna make her cum?”

the question is meant with no malice or harm — more innocent than rin allows himself to appear and isagi quickly picks up on it, licking a hot stripe up from the base of your neck to just behind your ear. “you can always tell when my precious girl is close,” he scissors his fingers along your insides, clear strings of your arousal keeping him tied to you. “she clenches so fucking tight around me, like she wants to make me a mess and claim me. keep me all to yourself, right precious?” he coos to you slyly, stroking you into the shape of him and flicking at your clit — arousal gathering copiously between your pussy lips. “you wanna cum so bad, don’t you.”

“y-yes!” you nearly scream, legs buckling beneath isagi’s ministrations, pumping in and out of your velvet walls with newfound motivation.

pleasure grows inside of you bit by bit, as if isagi has laid the foundation for bricks of pleasure to stack up high and the fact that rin itoshi is watching you just cements it all together. “make yourself useful, and hold her up.” he instructs, lazily sucking marks into your skin. “so selfish, rin. just like always. getting yourself off while my precious girl’s a shaky mess. you could have been helping all this time.”

a smile that could rival the devil’s tugs at your boyfriend’s wet lips when rin staggers forward to hold you up in the comfort of his arms. the path to what he wants has always been clear and isagi plays on that like it’s a part of the game you all play — knowing that rin would never give up the chance to hold you this close. you can feel the outline of his bulging cock against your tummy, the thought of it grinding inside you alongside isagi’s fingers doing nothing to sedate the desire coursing through you. your selfish need to cum.

blood rushes through rin’s ears at he way you cling onto him life a lifeline. you might be creaming on yoichi’s thick fingers, letting them stretch you out in preparation for his even thicker dick, but right now — you need rin to ground you and keep you back down on earth.

“can’t,” you whine over the lewd slushy sounds reverberating from between your thighs, and bat your eyelashes up at the younger itoshi — pride internally rumbling in your chest as the black abyss of his pupils swallows his pretty green eyes. “can't hold it, ‘ichi.” there’s nothing greater to you than humbling someone like rin itoshi. he forgets that while you follow whatever pleasure is given to you, you’ll always be loyal to yoichi isagi. hearing you moan his name only shatters rin’s confidence.

“let go for me, baby. cum all over me like the good girl i know you can be,” a deep groan takes hold in isagi’s chest, roots intertwining with his lungs and his very being. much like a sturdy tree. his thumb goes back to signing his name over it, gaze honing in between the sinful movement beneath your clothes. “get on your knees, rin. see how i fuck her nice and good.”

doing as he’s told, rin bites back his humiliation and sinks to his knees before you — keening into your fingers as they move up to grip his broad shoulders and your nails dig into his milky flesh hidden by his kit. from here, gets a front row seat to your gushing sex and how it soils the tiny threads of your boy shorts stuffed between your fattened pussy lips.

sex crazed hormones drift into the air, rattling about and colliding with kinetic energy as isagi picks up the pace — the seat of his palm now grinding against your clit, rubbing you raw and relentlessly. he bites down on your pulse point, and that’s really all it takes to throw you over the ledge. the stacks of ecstasy that had been building within the depths of your soul finally come crumbling down and your release shoots out of you, slapping to the floor in a crude manner.

“o-oh! ‘m c-cumming!” you cry out, feeling evidence of your orgasm blaze a trail down your inner thighs in clear streams as isagi guides you through it. rin doesn’t bother fighting his biological instincts, craning his head up for just a taste, a smell, anything — your sugary and musky scent sending him spiralling while heady precum oozes from his time painfully.

“ah, ah fuck, baby. keep that orgasm goin’ for me, keep cumming. so pretty.” soft praises fall on your ears despite the white noise that overwhelms you, letting yoichi control the way you twitch and react with his large hands still working you through it all — perfectly nestled between your trembling thighs. you came so much, so sweet.”

it’s like yoichi is in awe of you, kissing your cheek as you come down from your high — still clenching and fluttering around his fingers. the pair of you forget about rin sitting on the floor between your legs — bearing witness to the way your orgasm rhythmically drips out of you. it’d be foolish for both boys not to become obsessive over the way you guys. slowly, one of your hands leaves rin’s muscled shoulder to grip your boyfriend’s hair and tug him into giving you a wet and loving kiss.

“you always make me cum so hard, yoichi,” you praise him, your shaky voice sounding angelic to both men. “thank you, baby.”

still licking his way into your mouth, isagi sighs in content, circling his hips into your ass. “all i wanna do is make you feel good,” he breathes his want into you. “are you okay to keep going? we can stop right here. rin doesn’t have to see anymore.”

it’s only then that you remember rin between your legs, discreetly humping the floor for some relief — practically shaking at how bad he wants you.

“you need me,” you say, hunger curling around the tone in your voice. “we can keep going.”

isagi fucking loves you. he’s sure he’s never quite met anyone on the same level of ego and desire as him. maybe you’re both insane, beyond the brink of normalcy with enough danger between you to destroy the whole world — but instead you stick to ruining the man before you both, ripping his ego down until it’s nothing but measly pieces and rin itoshi can no longer look either of you in the eye.

a pair of eager lips land on yours once again — tasting of freshly cut grass and the sweat on your lover’s Cupid’s bow. you suck and bite on one another, leaving your claim visually on each other while your hearts remain tied. isagi grabs at your fleshy ass cheeks, takes your tongue down his throat and lets you own him just as much as he owns you while rin bares witness to your boiling and passionate love.

familiar hands yank down your shorts and underwear in one go — desperately exposing your hot skin to the air conditioned room, causing a wave of goosebumps to erupt over your body in anticipation. excitement. “i wanna fuck you so bad, i can’t ever get enough of you, precious girl.” he whispers menacingly against the shell of your ear, like it’s a threat but instead directed towards the man at your feet. “‘m so lucky,” his hands wander again, cupping your cunt squeezing your waist and pulling the sweetest sounds from between your lips. “being the only one to have you like this.”

once again, you collapse forward and dig your nails into rin’s shoulders — relishing in the way he looks up at you like you’re a forbidden prize to be won. an angel. a diety. you smile at him, innocent and cute, whimpering a breath’s width away from rin’s lips as isagi arches your back for himself — peeling apart your juicy ass cheeks to set his sights on your glistening pussy. your squelching hole pulses around nothing, sending beading droplets of your arousal through your folds.

“hi rinnie,” you simper and struggle to keep your gaze focused on the athlete, feeling isagi rub his seedy hot cockhead against the entire length of his sex. teasing the both of you. “how’s are you doing?”

there’s so much he wants to say to you. to do to you. if rin had a little more confidence and higher self esteem — maybe he could acknowledge his feelings, he could kiss you, make you his, make you forget all about isagi. but rin is a coward paralysed by his own fear of feeling something real. he lets you walk all over him instead. both of you.

“i’m good, how are you feeling?” he mumbles in response, all needy-like. you almost feel bad for him, revelling in the way rin tracks your moans, his mouth dropping open just like yours when yoichi drives his hips forwards and bullies his heavy cock past your fluttering entrance. “f-fuck, you’re so…”

“so what, r-rinnie?”

“so pretty.”

his eyes shine when he speaks, glossy with desire causing pride to curl around your heart and fan the flames of debauchery inside of you. isagi pulls back, his brows creasing in the centre of his sweaty forehead as he adjusts his tender grip on your hips and pulls his cock from the snugness of your drenched heat. he thrusts forward, hitting every pleasure spot he’s ever mapped out along the length of your slippery walls, making you shudder and press your forehead to rin’s for support.

“pretty girl, how are you still so…” isagi grunts, high-pitched and borderline whiny, choking on the spit that pools against the pad of his tongue and slips out of the corner of his mouth. “so fucking tight. god, i needed this. needed you.”

the way in which isagi yearns for you will never fail to make you melt, following your biological instinct which tells you to push your hips back and throw your ass back on him too. “it’s all for you, yoichi,” you drawl, a wet sigh lying on your glossy lips while your boyfriend's milky tips drags along your insides, churning you up just as he kisses your cervix. rin’s face crumples and you feel a little mean for getting lost in his rival right before his very eyes — but the other half of you enjoys the psychological torment you’re putting him through.

you like how at any point he could have gotten up and left yourself and isagi to your fun. but rin stays, because he likes the position of vulnerability you put him in. he trusts you, both you and isagi.

yoichi pacifies himself by latching into your shoulder with pointed teeth, licking over the bite marks as his chest rumbles in content and his hips set a steady stream to fuck you with. his dark hair tickles your skin every time he pumps his cock in and out of you, feeding your body his lust for you and painting you with opaque layers of pre between your thighs. it mixes with your arousal, clear strings slinging against your legs each time isagi’s balls tap at your sensitive clit.

he breathes his ego into you, making your face burn, making you cry out until your throat is raw. isagi has always been able to fill you up so good, his cock is pretty — decorated with spiralling blue and green veins that hit spots you can’t reach with your fingers while is shaft slightly curves, up just enough to never leave your g-spot. even when he’s fucking you from behind.

“oh precious girl, that’s it, throw it back on me,” isagi slurs, hardly able to focus on anything aside from the way you take him in — the lewd pap, pap, pap of your pussy rippling around him. “show me how you want it. how you want me to use this cock for you.”

isagi tells you encouragingly between thready breaths. he’s always been a giver, his pleasure has always been your pleasure and his end goal to make you see stars when you cum. like you, isagi always finds a way to get what he wants. and he wants you to lose your mind to him. in front of rin.

“right there, yoichi — need you right there!” comes your heavenly little whine as you throw your head back onto his shoulder for the nth time that evening. your attention tears away from rin for only a second, giving him the perfect view of your breasts that bounce as yoichi pounds you from behind and the crystallised beads of sweat that run down the collum of your throat. “y’so big, oh my god.”

“you, hah, you hear that rin? she keeps cryin’ my name, praising me like i’m her fucking god.” he somehow manages to snap to his rival.

you have an inkling that yoichi going insane since his voice drips with a huskiness that lowers its octave. he seems to lose his goal, however, succumbing to your selfish cunt that refuses to let him pull out and forces the striker to keep his thrusts deep and targeted inside of your heated core.

bliss is pungent in the air, lays heavy across every inch of your mind and you find yourself succumbing to it — once mover digging your nails into rin’s shoulders until they form pretty crescent moons on the expanse of his milky flesh and you can use him as leverage to fuck yourself back on yoichi’s creamy dick.

everything sounds so fucking nasty, and rin really can’t fucking help it. all of his shamefulness that once painfully panged at each of his nerve endings seems to have fizzled away into shameless. he finds himself no longer caring that his cock is pulsing from watching his friend ( his rival, his enemy, his … crush? whatever …) fuck the girl of his dreams to high heavens and back. with his emerald gaze laser focused on darting between your viscous and drenched cunt sucking yoichi in, and your angelic expression ( creased brows and perfectly pouty lips) — rin let’s his hand slip beneath his shorts to finally relieve himself of the ache.

he hissed at the first contact with his erection, the sound quickly turning to pathetic blubbers that make his ears burn red at their tips — because it feels so good. finally touching himself in sync with isagi’s thrusts, getting himself off to the way he fucks you, loves you. torn between wanting to be either of you. it’s a large thing to admit to himself, sifting through a maze of lust, attraction. rin has been chasing after the want to be loved for so long and somewhere along the way it morphed into wanting to be between you both.

he won’t admit it out loud, however, but he feels lucky enough to watch right now. grateful that he pushed isagi this far.

the sounds of him jerking off his crying cock, rubbing at his slit from time to time, merges perfectly with the sinful symphony of your mewls, your cries and the weightly slap of isagi’s skin against your own. his guttural moans too, and his breeder’s balls smacking down wetly on your equally wet, puffy cunt. you catch on first, teary eyes drifting down to the movement beneath the younger itoshi’s clothes and then back up to his face — which looks lighter, relieved and less tense.

“oh rinnie,” you coo, voice rising an octave — delighted by the sight in front of you and the way in which your boyfriend eagerly chases the hot grip of your abused, leaky hole. “y-you’re so cute… you like watching me get fucked that bad, hm?”

“y-yes, god yes.” he lets out a choked moan in response, his throat dry from holding back and not having spoken in a while.

you grin lazily and lift a hand from rin’s shoulder to cup his cheek, brushing away a stray tear with your thumb. one that he didn’t even know had fallen. “you’ve been such a good boy, watching so well ‘n listening to ‘ichi up until now…” even though your voice wavers, and you’re just as submissive to your boyfriend as rin is to you right now — you somehow manage to reach out to him, lick at the longing parts of his soul that crave affection like this.

“he’s pathetic is what he is,” isagi rears his jealous head while slumping over you — aiming to steal your attention away. he’s rutting into you so fast that you swear you see a blinding white light, gushing down his dick and slicking him all up with your early release. “rubbin’ one off on your stupid cock to my girlfriend even when told not to. seems like you never listen, not on the field. not here. you just live to piss me off, don’t you man.”

it’s humiliating for rin, but he likes it. stuck between your loving praise and isagi’s harsh words. “seeing her cum for me wasn’t enough for me to prove my point to you, but now she’s on my dick and you still won’t admit it.” he barks but doesn’t let up on fucking you senseless.

the hand that squeezes and tugs at rin’s sorely, hard cock only seems to move faster the more mean, embarrassing shit isagi spews at him. tearing the younger player down but making him feel this amazing. he can’t ignore the small spurts of pre cum that his iron hot tip releases just from having the two of you watching him. it’s evident in the dark stain that seeps through the fabric of his soccer shorts.

his cheeks are flushed and his eyelids droopy as he looks up at you, palming himself to your very vision of beauty. the three of you are a mess. you can’t help but sequel like a lamb being dragged to slaughter between rin and isagi — who tears you apart by plunging into you as deep as he can go and pieces you back together with sloppy kisses to your back, tonguing at your neck possessively.

isagi’s veiny hands grab at your ass next to pull you onto his thrusting cock, pushing anything that leaks out of you back into your clenching hole. he peels his sweat soaked chest away from your back and you whimper at the loss of his body heat — only to let out a surprised sob when he spits onto the point at which your bodies join, fucking the froth past your entrance.

everything your boyfriend does to you, has a snowball effect on rin. he no longer holds back, wildly bucking his hips into his hand wishing it were your sluice sex, or your mouth. dying to have his hands all over you the way isagi does. you terrorise his thoughts but your moans and squeaks soothe him — dragging him closer and closer to his high. you’re dangerous, rin concludes, but it only makes him want to see you like this even more.

meanwhile, you’re in no better condition — every time isagi bends you over and ravages you like this, you’re reminded of the many reasons why he is blue lock’s star player. his strong build from playing soccer all around the world pays off in he’s with you, making good use of his new found stamina to wreck your entire being and pound you all the way to hell. though yoichi is shorter and lean where rin is taller and agile, he never fails to make your brain void of any thought and your legs soft thighs with how wet you are. he fucks you like he hates you, like he’s mad at you for your own existence but he speaks to you in ways that emulate love.

“you’re milking me, precious girl,” he mutters as if he’s in awe. “you want my cum that badly? you want me?” yoichi purrs, sending shockwaves through your system and right down to your pelvis — adding to the orgasmic knots that twist there, threatening to unravel at any second. “you’re so pretty, grinding up on me. so dirty, loving how rin watches you. my precious girl.”

“‘m yours, yoichi,” you reaffirm, preening into his touch as it cascades up and down your body like a rushing waterfall. “wanna cum, wanna cum f’you.”

your admission is like a bullet to the chest for rin but he doesn’t want to give this up, revelling how you look down at him, his milky white dick and his blushing face with an expression so sweet his teeth might rot and his ears fill with your honey-like voice — melting his brain. he wants this for as long as you’ll give it to him, for as long as isagi will allow him to witness it.

“i know baby, but you know what i want, feels so much better when you wait for me,” your boyfriend’s thrusts begin to grow sloppy and irregular — indicating the approach of his own high. but isagi knows you and your body better than anyone else, knows how to make you cum so hard that you might black out. you love to be edged, and you love him even more so. you’d do whatever he wanted and then some. and he would do the same for you.

he throbs within your tightness, your pussy papping and pulsating, smeared with isagi’s thick precum that douses your puffy folds in white. the mix froths, creating a foamy ring of white at the thickest point of his length. “p-please, yoichi. i don’t think i can,” you wail in denial like you always do, the sound causing both boys to squeeze the base of their cocks and groan in unison — attempting to stave off their orgasms. “hurts so good.”

rin is reminded of just how good his rival can fuck you. even when you’re desperate to cum (and he’s just as desperate to watch it happen again) — you still have a burning hunger for isagi to control your ecstasy. he wants to give up control like that too. with you, or with his destined enemy. liquid lust rolls down rin’s dick in large waves, his eyes threatening to roll back as he listens to your moans get higher and higher the closer you are. yoichi is in no better condition, growling and chasing after your cunt as your hips attempt to run away from him.

“she wants to fucking cum, you idiot.” rin grunts, finding his voice amidst the sound of crying, moaning and skin on skin. “please, let her cum.”

“why? so you can bust a nut to my fucking girl. jeez, rin. get a fucking grip.”

maybe this is what makes isagi the bad boyfriend rin so desperately wants to make him. putting his pleasure above your own even though rin knows that’s far from the truth — almost relenting while he jerks off to the same pace that isagi fucks you with. but then you call out to him, like a siren from the high seas.

“rinnie, please touch me. h-help me cum.”

his body moves on his own accord after that, the hand that’s not getting himself off to you and his so called friend reaching between shaky legs and salty skin to fumble with your clit awkwardly. rin has never touched a girl a girl before, not even like this. but he tries to recreate it in the way that isagi does, to listen to you moan for him and see you tremble above him.

“h-how’s that?” he breathes, watching in awe as your eyes roll back into your skull.

“more.” you say. barking out the command while your cunt spews a fresh wave of juices onto rin’s hand.

your body seizes up, pleasured from all angles. between yoichi’s cock and rin’s calloused thumb drags random shapes over the pearl between your folds. “motherfucker….” the curse spills from isagi’s lips before he can stop it and admit how fucking amazing it feels to have you tense around him, warm and wet. it’s worse when rin accidentally catches his cock as it slips in and out of you rapidly, churning up your insides. “fucking bastard. at least touch her properly, rub in circles.”

rin does what he’s told, following the simple command and obediently flicking at your clit. it’s totally worth it, surrendering his autonomy to the older player just to have you tug at his hair and squeal his name. you jut your hips back and forth, meeting both boys in their bid to make you see heaven. your limbs threaten to give out on you, you pulse and pleasure tremors through you like an earthquake.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” you chant like it’s a prayer.

the world around you falls away as you’re finally pushed over the edge — a bright white light flooding your vision accompanied by static fizzling in your ears. rin watches you cum a second time as if he’s witnessing the eight wonders of the world, your cunt flooding with isagi’s cum at the same time that you squirt with ease. his load floods your womb, filling you up to the brim and you feel so good you might die. a scream tearing in your throat and the knots in your lower tummy rapidly unravelling. the both of you cumming together, at last.

you can’t help it, surging forward to press your lips against rin’s, kissing him hazily, your tongue prodding through his lips — licking into his mouth. rin creams his pants at the very sensation, damn near sobbing into your open mouth. “f-fucking christ, that’s so hot.” isagi whines, slowly pulling out of you and letting the crude mix of your arousals hit the floor.

it’s only then that rin realises love is not binary. there are no clear paths to achieving the perfect love. there hat tricks or dribble techniques. love is unwinding and binding and there are too many possibilities. and that scares rin, for him to love a girl he can’t have.

your knees buckle under the exhaustion of it all and rin reaches out to catch you before you can pull away and the oxygen from reality floods his brain again. he misses you when isagi reaches you first, coddling you in his arms and kissing all over your face to calm you down and reassure you. loving you in ways rin isn’t sure that he’s capable of.

nosing your cheek, isagi coos out to you — his personality doing a complete 180. “you okay, precious. i wasn’t too hard on you, right?”

you’re so happy to be in his arms, close to dozing off. “‘m okay, yoichi. you were perfect. you always are. i love you.”

“do you need help getting to the showers? i can carry you there.”

eyeing rin on the floor, you look back up to isagi and shake your head adoringly — knowing that they’ll probably need to talk this out without you.

“i’ll be alright, find me when you’re done here. okay?”

the striker lets you back down and accepts a kiss on the cheek from you. you pad away to wash off — leaving him in silence with his younger counterpart. the tension fails to dissipate as they fix themselves, tucking away their dicks and floundering to speak.

rin watches the way isagi longingly looks at the door, wanting to be with you instead of dealing with the consequences of his actions. it dawns on him then, that he literally cannot win against isagi, that perhaps he is better than rin in all ways possible. he’s a loser. he lost to you and to isagi.

“i’m… i’m a good boyfriend. for her, yanno,” isagi says awkwardly after some time, scratching the back of his head shyly. “there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do for her…but how much i love her doesn’t reflect in my plays and she knows that. the way i love her and love soccer are different. i could never blame my mistakes on how much i care for her. it would be on me. like today was on you.”

rin can only blink back in response. “that’s true. i’m—“ he wants to apologise, but something inside him, something that he’d worked so hard to undo this past hour doesn’t let him. he can’t submit, be truthful and vulnerable. not when the setting isn’t as intimate as before.

rin still can’t let go.

something familiar — akin disappointment swirls in the blues and azures of yoichi’s eyes, but he doesn’t comment on rin’s silence.

it reminds rin of his brother, sae.

with nothing left to talk about, isagi nods quietly and shoved his hands in his pockets to head for the showers — no doubt to check up on you, be with you openly and happily, but pauses just shy of the door. he throws his head back to address rin once more.

“oh and by the way,” isagi mumbles, pushing his tongue around inside his mouth and against his cheek. looking for the right words. as if he’s holding back — saying whatever comes next against his will. “she did really like you. so, every day i have to prove to her that i was the right choice, the better one. a good boyfriend. so don’t get it twisted. alright?”

he makes his exit shortly after — leaving the younger player with no time to respond.

and rin can’t tell if those words were supposed to comfort him or not. in fact, all they do is make him feel worse.

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