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bts5sosempire · 2 years

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the tyrant (i)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4,089

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: arrange marriage, slow-burn yandere, polygamous marriage (cuz this is set in the old time, so yeah), mention of infertility, power imbalance, will get dark and unhinged in the next chap., etc.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna's eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: always new and unfinished content I be spewing out in my WIP drafts. It's endless. I really am one of those writers that would go away and just come back to drop something then go away again 🙃. Some of things I type out, I did some research on it and the rest are not. Almost forgot that I got inspired by a show I watched so some parts got me rapidly writing it.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"What do you mean she's not able to conceive?" Sukuna asks, his trained eyes sharpening on the doctor, who notices his reaction and yelp in fear as they immediately bow forward with their forehead and hands touching the floor.

"P-Please pardon my incompetent!" They spoke out, voices shaking. "I have diagnosed Lady (Name) and found out that her pulse is too weak, her body temperature is low, and her estrogen level is also low..." The doctor wanted to say more, but their lips was sealed shut and Sukuna, whose unwavering gaze lingered on them, waited for them to continue with an irritated expression.

Sukuna: "Why aren't you continuing?"

The doctor once again jolted in their spot, "I fear this will affect her fertility rate!"

Sukuna: "You should've said so."

"My Lord?" They picked up their head and thought that Sukuna couldn't get anymore scarier than before, but they were wrong. The expression Sukuna wore was far more than dangerous; his eyes suddenly glazed over in vehement anger and burning rage. The doctor knew it wasn't directed toward them, but still, they couldn't help but feel a pit in their stomach.

Sukuna then used a hand to shoo them away, "Find a solution. Fast. I'll call you for progress." The doctor didn't need Sukuna to tell him if he failed; he knew what it meant if he could not live up to the expectation. His life. The doctor bid a farewell greeting and flew out of the Lord's room faster than any bird.

Outside the door, the doctor bumped into Lady Eisha, holding a tea tray. She gives the doctor a polite smile before entering the room, "Husband?" Sukuna, rubbing his face, opened his strawberry eyes and saw his principal wife. Eisha is a doll with porcelain skin and demure features; she was cladded in the finest and most expensive silks and jewelry that could feed a whole village for a year. Even though she wasn't initially Sukuna's first choice to be the principal wife, it was you; his mother insisted that Eisha should be the one since she was from a notable family. But so were you. Sukuna wanted clarification from his mother regarding her great dislike towards you being the primary wife, but all it did was ignite her wrath. Therefore, his mother never answers him, and it displeases him greatly. To take you as his second wife and, in ranking too. He isn't going to give you anything less; he knows how to piss off his mother; Sukuna could follow her wish, doesn't mean he isn't going to fulfill it.

"Is there anything that distresses you?" Sukuna didn't answer her. Instead, he was still in his damper mood and mauling over what he had just heard today. Eisha focused on her husband and the tea she had set on the ground. She delicately pours Sukuna a cup, then inches closer to present him with the tea with a soft smile. Sukuna accepts the cup without as much as looking at Eisha. Sukuna brought the cup to his lips, testing the temperature and smelling the scented aroma of matcha.

Eisha could feel her smile drop a little. Sukuna never looked her way despite being married for five years; the only time he would look at her was when they were to consummate and fulfill their duty as husband and wife to produce an heir. So far, Eisha has given him a daughter only, and all the other five concubines have given him a child each or two along the way. While one or two of them were on their second or third pregnancy, there was you, who remained childless all these years. Despite being the second wife after Eisha, you were still the secret mockery within the harem. With no child, you were to remain powerless against the rest of the harem and Eisha. However, you shouldn't be underestimated from her point of view; Eisha couldn't help but feel the vying affection she had wanted for so long from Sukuna, only to be delivered towards you. With you holding the heart of Sukuna, everyone was to remain careful about how they spoke of you. If one lousy word slipped from someone's mouth and reached Sukuna's ear, they would incur his deadly animosity.

She doesn't know what Sukuna could see in you; you were a harlot vixen who never once appreciated an ounce of Sukuna's admiration whenever it was presented. All you did was throw it back at his face; your cold disposition and indifference were a crime in her mind.

"Mistress?" Your maid, Yumi, calls out to you in worry, her voice in a hushed whisper as she looks out at the door warily to see any obscuring shadows of people lurking outside. "How do you think the Lord would take about your news?"

While you remain calm, you settle down your needlework onto your lap and look ahead of you with an annoyed expression. "It's not my problem; no child means no ties to that man." You were so nonchalant about your situation that Yumi put her hands on your forearm and gripped it, but not strong enough to hurt you. "Still..." Yumi starts; she knows how much you dislike Sukuna but wouldn't speak it out loud for your safety. You set your embroidery aside and re-situated yourself in your seating position. Patting her hands with your free hand, you try to reassure Yumi for her sake. "Yumi, you worry too much about me that you haven't been sitting still for the last hour." Disarming her with a smile, you decided to switch topics with a pacifist voice, "So, how is the situation with Lord Itadori?"

At the mention of Yuji, you see how her expression change from worry to realization. Yumi's hands fly off your forearm immediately, and she plucks out a letter from her inner attire and hands it to you with two hands. You take the letter from her and unfold the content, eyes reading the words.

Yuji was Sukuna's younger half-brother, who was fifteen years old, compared to Sukuna, who was twenty-seven. When you put them together or side by side, there wasn't much of a difference in their appearances; if you could point out, Yuji would be the replica of Sukuna, but he is someone who has softer features and heart, unlike his sharper and cold-hearted older brother. You would have referred to Yuji's last name as Sukuna, but before the former Lord passed away, Yuji wished to keep his mother's maiden name since she was the only family member left of hers. He is such a filial son; if only he were the same age as his older brother, you would've married him instead in a heartbeat. But in the end, it didn't matter, you treated the young boy as a little brother and sent him a bi-weekly care package, and Yuji treated you as an older sister he never had despite having so many.

"What does the letter say, Mistress?" Yumi asked, peering at the letters that looked like nothing but indescribable chicken scratches.

"I also missed the young master's presence; if he were here, Lord Sukuna wouldn't be hounding you every chance he gets." Yumi mention, and you chuckle. Sukuna hates Yuji, and how you prefer his younger brother. Sukuna had made it known to make off and backhanded comments at Yuji in your being, even with Yuji's naivety to a certain extent; he was sensible enough to understand that his older half-brother didn't like him much. This made you defend the young boy, and in defense, you use the same manner Sukuna did to Yuji in calculated and halcyon quips. You miss the satisfaction of making the man bite his lips in frustration, a part of you wants to relive it again.

"What do you think it says?" You retort the question right back at her, and she sheepishly smiles at you while scratching the back of her head. "I've taught you how to read and write, and the alphabet never stuck to you, did it?" To confirm your suspicion, Yumi made it more evident by messing with the hem of her attire. You want to eye roll at your adorable servant but hold it off with a sigh before giving her a brief explanation. "Yuji said he's doing well at the Gojo's compound; he's also having a nice time and has made friends with the Fushiguro's son and Nobara's daughter. While learning has been difficult for him since I'm not around to help him, Gojo-sensi was nice enough to dumb it down for him." You click your tongue and eye Yumi, "What's with you and Yuji not retaining anything?" Continuing to summarize the letter, you can't help but huff out a little laugh at what you read; Yuji tried to spell something but couldn't as it was retried and crossed out multiple times then he said something different. "He missed eating with me and mentioned that his Sensi wanted to meet me since it's rare for a (Surname) clan girl to be married off. The rest is him rambling about a pretty girl, and that's it."

If you were someone else, he would've had your head skewered at the front of the gate of the Sukuna's estate as a warning for everyone to watch what they say to him.

Folding the letter and putting it back inside the envelope, you check the sun's position, and you see it is nearly noon. "Yumi, prepare my tea for me."

"Is that so?" An older woman raises a brow; she listens intently to what is being told in front of her ears. Eisha, sitting in front of her, telling her the dreading news of you not being able to conceive children from where she overheard the doctor from Sukuna's quarter in the hallway. Sukuna's mother, Hanami, plays it off, "Even if she failed to fulfill her duty as one of his wives, there are still the other concubines here that are avail." Hanami tried to pass it off as it was the will of fate you weren't granted, children.

"Mother, you're right, although I can't help but worry that this might affect his Lordship's health." Eisha expresses, and Hanami hum at her to go on, "He has been waiting for so long to sire a child with her and is filled with news that she couldn't. Thus I wonder if you could help?"

Hanami paused, giving her a look, "Help? Do you want me to help her? Even if I can, I'm unsure how effective I could be." Hanami worded herself to be a saint and fair in front of Eisha, but when it comes to you, she refuses to be in any part of your life. Anything else, it's disgust and hatred she had for you. If you were born from a different clan and not the one associated with your Aunt Iori Setsuko, formally known as (Surname) Setsuko, she would've helped you.

Eisha, who asked the question, wasn't sure what answer she was given, but she still felt a sense of elation; the fact that you were disregarded as useless stroked her ego. Even if she doesn't have Sukuna's affection yet, she has her mother-in-law, her backer, and support.

"By the way, how are you and my son faring? Another child from you would hold the line stable." Hanami didn't notice how Eisha's face turned wry for a second, and within a blink, it disappeared as she presented her mother-in-law with a smile. Eisha didn't need a reminder from Hanami that she needed a boy to hold the line of succession going.

"Ryomen and I are trying for another, but it's not easy as it seems as it was during the first time," Eisha told Hanami, who gasped as a hand flew to her lips worriedly.

Hanami reached across and held Eisha's hands and squeezed them, "We cannot have that; I have some remedies that could help you." Hanami went over to her drawer and pulled out a few bottles. She hands them over to Eisha, who pretends to look astonished, "This is Unkei-to; take a pill daily to help with your blood flow and circulation." Hanami then sat across from Eisha again, "It's to help regulate your body heat and menstruation cycle, also increasing your ovulation too."

After going on a tangent of talking, Eisha excuses herself and lets out a triumphant grin.

Hanami drops the facade of a loving and caring mother; she puts two fingers against her temple and rubs it in pain; she could feel a headache forming. Knowing the news that you weren't able to bear children does strike her heart cords in happiness, but your presence was still a little reminder of why you're here. For as long as Hanami has known Setsuko, your Aunt was a thorn in her side at the starting days of their youth as young teenagers. Hanami was hailed as the fair maiden of Japan until your Aunt Setsuko appeared and took her title and everything. Every woman from the (Surname) Clan was always regarded as having a prestigious and noble birth, a goddess. Rarely were they ever seen or shown to the public; anyone who was to be wedded or engage with the women was married to their family instead of the husband, per upon agreement. The same goes with the men; the (Surname) is very picky on who they union their children with.

The reason why their feud has ensued for so long was because of Sukuna Tsugahara, Hanami's now-late husband. At first, Hanami and Tsugahara were lovers, and until he met Setsuko that he was smitten and was willing to break off the engagement with her. Blinded by anger and resentment every day for it, Setsuko and Tsugahara got closer and closer until it was then they were set to be engaged that Hanami had pulled the rug beneath their feet. Both parties were stunned since Hanami was willing to pull every dirty stunt in her book until she got Tsugahara back into her arms, and she successfully did. She called him back because a night of trysts pretending to be Setsuko and Sukuna Ryomen resulted from it.

To say Setsuko was betrayed, Hanami wished for Setsuko to feel everything she felt.

Hanami had to give that woman a round of applause, though she knew that Setsuko's bitterness would never end and it would burn forever; sending you was uncalled for and a friendly reminder of 'you robbed me, I will do it right back.'

You were almost an uncanny image of your Aunt that Hanami thought she had seen the devil for a second. Even Tsugahara thought you were Setsuko, and he mistakenly called you her name. You have to correct him. More alarming was her only son, Sukuna Ryomen, whose pupils were blown wide from your beauty and disposition that she thought she was reliving her horrible days again. First, it was her husband who was smitten by Setsuko, now her son towards you.

Even if she successfully dissuades her son from taking you as the head wife, it doesn't stop you from being pampered day and night by both men. Tsugahara cherished you as if you were his daughter since he couldn't be with the one he loves, and Sukuna wouldn't leave you alone to breathe; even speaking ill of you is forbidden, which is an unwritten rule anyone should and have to know.

Hanami was disturbed by their behavior relating to you; you were their favorite. Everything you do is perfect in their eyes, and you would be excused and given leniency. She won't know if she should be thankful that you didn't take advantage of her husband and son's adoration, but she's, nevertheless, pissed that you have them wrapped around your fingers!

You seem to adore your father-in-law Tsugahara more than your husband.

"Now, what should I do?" Hanami asks no one in particular but herself. She didn't want to indulge in the past anymore; she didn't care about Eisha; Hanami needed Eisha to give birth to a legitimate son to secure and solidify her position as the wife. After all, she didn't give her those pills for anything; she needs you out of the picture, even if it'll take time.

You thought peace was always an option without Sukuna hovering over you for the last few days, but not today. The feeling of disdain shoots you; the doctor and Sukuna are in your chamber. Yumi was nervously seated behind you, observing the scene, trying not to be as alarmed as possible. She fears Sukuna, but her caring and worried nature for you outweighs what she feels for your husband. Meanwhile, Sukuna was puffing a tobacco pipe by the window, his face resting against his knuckles. He was side-eying the situation. Your bodily functions matter to him that he took mere time off to hear what the doctor had to say.

The doctor diagnosing you took the thin cloth from your wrist after retaking your pulse. Sukuna had insisted that you were not to be touched by anyone but himself since he's your husband, and you were not to be grouped with common filth either. His other women in the harem.

"Well?" Sukuna lingers his gaze on the male, who clears his throat in apprehension.

The doctor shifted a bit in his spot; he had found a new habit since being under the scrutiny eyes of Sukuna. "As the results from before, Lady (Name) has low body heat and chances of conceiving a child. I had brought back a drug that will help improve her vitality over time to help her chance of conceiving." The male went to his medical box and searched for the miracle medicine. After a few seconds, he pulls out a small purple sash. The doctor unties the strings before carefully dumping a small ball of leaves onto their palm the size of a mini rosebud. You could smell the scent of ginger in it, along with many others. "This was specially made for Lady (Name); it's infused and compressed with..." They went on a tangent confabulation in which herbs were gathered from the mountains, and while what was brought from abroad, together, he went with the effects of it.

"Instead of telling me, get started." Sukuna cuts them off with impatient, and the doctor changes course and requests a pot of boiled water. You instructed Yumi to go to the kitchen with a slight nod. You will play along with whatever plan Sukuna has for you.

Yumi returns a quarter later, tray in both hands. She sat and kneeled on the ground, pouring a bowl of hot water into the ceramic. The doctor then proceeded to drop the ball of leaves into the cup as it unraveled openly. The water slowly changes its color until a dark golden hue is presented.

"It's ready," the doctor announces, plucking the leaves out and gesturing for you to pick up the bowl. You took the cup with the slow motion of a lady and brought it up to your nose. Sukuna watches your action; he sees how you peer into the bowl before taking a small sip, there was a slight twitch you showed, and he guessed it was probably bitter. You down the medicine in one go as you tilt it upwards until nothing was left beside a few residues of leaf particles. There was a strong bitterness in your mouth when you set the bowl back on the small table.

Sukuna dumps the rest of the tobacco out the window by tapping it before setting the pipe aside. He gives the doctor and Yumi a look, indicating that they should leave the room. The doctor didn't need to be told twice before he left the room in a rush, and Yumi hastily picks the bowl and put it on the tray before walking out of the room, not before casting you a glance of anxiety.

"Now," Sukuna rose from his seat, and you do the same, trying to cut him off from meeting you halfway. You blatantly wish to be anywhere else but here with him. It was because of orders from Sukuna to have you confined for a few days to find out what happened to you that it disrupted your daily activities to go out in public to help out the misfortunes and events you voluntarily volunteered yourself to escape his clutches. "Are you that eager to get away, love?" You didn't get very far, as it took a few strides to catch up. Sukuna uses a hand to grasp your wrist and pull you to his hard chest while one arm loops itself to your waist, his fingers lovingly playing with the outline of your hip, drumming and tapping. The man lays his chin on your shoulder while the smell of tobacco clings onto him, drafting towards your nose; Sukuna softly inhales your scent, lulling his mind into tranquility as he closes his eyes blissfully.

This made you turn your head subtly to the side to avoid him, but this made Sukuna think this was an invitation to dig his nose more profoundly into the crevice of your neck. A soft rumble could be heard from his throat. "I may confine you to stay within the castle, but that doesn't mean you have to stay in here." Here. What Sukuna had meant what that being on 'house arrest' doesn't mean you make it a habit to stay in your room.

"You didn't specify where to be confined, so I ought to stay somewhere, and here isn't bad at all." Retort with calmness but a subtle jab, Sukuna's hold tightens a bit more, not much to your liking. But it loosens as it comes to, "Your presence is greatly missed in the mess hall." You wanted to snark back that it's highly doubted; with you gone from the dining table, everyone would tell tales full of travesty of you in high and low, not in front of him, but when he's not around. The only person who would miss you was Sukuna himself.

Grabbing Sukuna's wrist, you untangle yourself from his grasp and put space between you. It's getting unbearable; you could only tolerate being in so much of his existence and him touching you. "Lift my temporary ban; then I'll join." You negotiate, and even with your back still turning against him, Sukuna can't help but grant you your wish. "That I can do, and I'm happy to see your face once more among the common ones." Sukuna moves in front of you; he grabs a lock of your hair and kisses it. He drops it before brushing his thick fingers against your tresses and trying to slide them behind your ear. You smack Sukuna's palm away with a tap, not enough to offend him, but enough to turn him away.

Your action amuses him; Sukuna wasn't sure how long you would resist him. Despite being his favorite for five years when he first laid eyes on you during the selection, even if you don't want him now, he will make sure you'll be him for the rest of eternity. He's a very patient man with many crafts underneath his sleeve. "Make sure to be there on time."

"How can I forget you're a punctual man," maintaining the underlying impasse, Sukuna chuckles when you look up to meet his eyes.

Sukuna turned around and exited your chamber; it wasn't until he was out of sight and mind that you inhaled deeply before exhaling that Yumi cane back into the room like a blur. She fretted over you like a mother hen that your social energy was draining fast already. Putting up with Sukuna always makes you mentally tired; keeping the farce up day and night from all angles isn't what you want.

You were only here per request and out of respect to your Aunt Setsuko, who had raised you because of the early passing of your parents. Marrying into the Sukuna family does have its benefits, although it's not what you had initially had in mind. You held back your thoughts when agreeing to be shipped off into an arranged marriage with Sukuna, the only son your Aunt Setsuko was deadset on having you marry before you were even born.

Maybe you should've asked for the reason before agreeing; now it's an endless headache you're dealing with.

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uselesssomebody · 1 year

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𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕟 𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖 - joel miller x reader

complete masterlist | joel miller masterlist

words || 𝟟.𝟝𝕜

summary || in which the reader's smile is a sight in the q.z.

a/n || i love him, your honor ➵ i'm watching the mandalorian so expect some fics on that soon! ➵ set before the show, so possibly canon divergent? no real main characters except the millers are a part of this ➵ i'm 90% sure i didn't accidentally spoil the show or game in this, except that ! news flash ! joel has a brother ig? ➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/angst ➵ show-typical violence and graphic descriptions of blood and wounds

she hurt again. she always does, be it the dull ache of her shoulders, the burn of her calves or biceps, or her stomach - excruciatingly, about one week out of the month. this time, it was a headache, the damn thing feeling as though her head would split open if she didn’t do anything about it in the next few moments.

luckily, some superior being out there heard her silenced, wailing pleas, as she lifted her eyes to a figure approaching her. his hand was outstretched, and she was so glad to see her relief in his hands that she clutched it desperately, pulling it out of his grip.

“hello to you too.” he mumbled, a large smile quirked on his chapped lips. well, as large of one as you can have in this godforsaken q.z., anyways. he watched as she swallowed the painkiller immediately, not even bothering to grab the small bottle of water in her bag. had any other person taken the pills he’d so delicately procured without promise of goods on their own side, he’d probably have shot them.

but he knew her. and he knew she wouldn’t.

he leaned slightly against the crumbling brick wall shielding this particular back alley, taking note of the way her previously tensed features softened, until the furrow of her brow and clench of her jaw was replaced with a smile instead.

this one, though, was actually large - for even pre-pandemic standards. she was like that a lot - smiling, happy, excited. positive. it was a hard thing to come by nowadays.

“thanks, tommy.” she sighed, reaching into her bag quickly to return the favor. the box that came out was a bit greasy and moist, and the smell of good food hit tommy miller’s nose almost intrusively, not used to the smell after the past week of food that could be bought with ration cards. the q.z. may have provided sustenance, but flavor seemed the be considered just as bad as the fucking zombies in here.

in similar fashion, he takes it out of her hand, finding different, small seasoning and sauce packets, as well as a plastic wrapped container of chicken. he shut the box quickly, as if worried the meat would come alive and fly away, and she smiled at the hastiness of the action. her painkillers had been quickly packed away into her inner jacket pocket, and she’s quick to survey the surrounding.

“so, i’ll see you week after?” she nodded, as tommy began leaving.

“next sunday, noon!” he saluted at her, and she rolled his eyes.

joel had forgotten about the idea of good food until about two months ago - when his brother had returned with an odd smelling container. he wondered what on earth he’d been up to, not even letting tommy explain before he started unpacking it. the meat inside looked a little foreign, the grilled crust on it something he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“tommy, what the-”

“it’s good, ain’t it?” he had an excitable pep in his step, and joel raised an eyebrow.

“how’d - how’d ya even get this?”

“one of the smugglers - she brings in food from her trips.”

“where does she get it from?” tommy looked at him as though he was crazy.

“why the hell would she tell me, joel? what’s it matter, anyway, we got great food now!” joel - the older brother than he is - felt perturbed by tommy’s careless attitude, but shrugged it off.

“what’d you pay for it then? how many ration cards?” tommy waved him off.

“a bag of pills - painkillers. said she’d give me a box every two weeks for a bag of them.” joel shook his head, still apprehensive.

“painkillers are hard to come by, tommy, is it really worth it?” tommy didn’t respond.

it was, in fact, absolutely worth it. the brothers practically licked their plates clean that night, the taste of the still juicy chicken invading their senses after the past 7 months of mostly sloppy, shitty soups and broths.

she became a staple of their rounds, with tommy always making time to get painkillers for her, and to meet her. both brothers knew it was stupid to ‘pretend to enjoy the finer things in life’, as joel so cynically put it, but that didn’t stop their appreciation for the food.

as for her, those few months had been the first time she’d had steady supply to something to ease her pain.

truly, she didn’t know how she’d carried on so far in this pandemic, considering she used to be a school teacher before all of this. the most she’d had to deal with back then was maybe a rowdy kid or two - or worse, a rowdy parent. not zombies - or infected, whatever. not terrorists, vigilantes, raiders, the fucking feds. she was even more shocked that she’d adopted a lifestyle of smuggling, as opposed to being another menial laborer. hell, she’d been anti-gun before all of this, and now she’d go through fifteen magazines a week - on good weeks.

luckily, she was a good shot, or she supposed she’d be spending a lot less on painkillers, and a lot more on bullets. she attributed it all to the first person to pay attention to her in the q.z.

she was a bit older, the woman - maybe mid 40s at the time - but she was incredibly fit, lithe and agile. they were put on odd jobs by FEDRA all the time, and it took about four jobs before she - beth - realized they were always paired together. she’ll always remember the first thing she told her:

“you’d think they’d get a better bunch than us to do this shit.” she had gestured to the group, full of mostly the malnourished, young, and old. there were considerable overlaps in those groups, if you can imagine.

sure, that first sentence wasn’t indicative of what would have become a budding friendship, but beth was quick to take her under her wing. then, when the older woman made the switch to smuggling goods, she figured that her young friend would do good in joining her.

“i don’t know, beth, what if the feds find out?” her arms were crossed over her chest as she paced up and down beth’s tiny apartment.

“you’ve got me! c’mon, when have things ever gone wrong with me.” she could name a few, but she pursed her lips to stop herself.

“what would we even get?” beth’s eyes lit up at her slow succumbing.

“that’s just it! i have an old, old friend who’s got a farm maybe 20 miles from here. he’s got these big fences to keep out the infected, but he grows fresh fruit and - meat! can you believe it! he’s got cows and chickens, and-” she stopped herself from delving too far into her master plan, “if we smuggle in food, we can get extra ration cards, extra supplies, and maybe even trade for other things!”

the idea excited her, and she couldn’t hide it, with beth immediately picking up on the released tension in her step, and in the way her arms crossed.

“but how would i survive out there? i can’t even shoot a gun.” beth’s smile widened.

“that’s the best part, hun. i’ll teach you.”

and teach her, she did. by the time they started making the serious, 20 km hike to beth’s friend’s farm, she was more than comfortable with a firearm, using it to save their lives on more than one occasion.

the trips had become muscle memory to her. they’d travel to the farm, trade ammo for food, and then come back, and trade the food for ration cards, for cigarettes for beth, and for the occasional bottle of whiskey.

it had become such muscle memory, that they both made the journey themselves occasionally. she’d been particularly busy one week trying to wrap up a larger deal with a group of fireflies - or at least, what they used to be - for decent first aid supplies. beth had urged her to carry on, and reassured her than she’d be back within 2 days with more food.

she waited two days. then she waited two more. then she got worried.

it was risky, she knew, but she had to figure what had happened.

she’d taken the same route they always took, except something had changed. one of the buildings in which they constantly stashed goods - usually empty - was now littered with metal cartridges, blood splattered across the grimy walls. her eyes widened, confused at the scene, and so fixated in figuring it out that she nearly tripped over something.

not something, someone.

she lets out a soft gasp at the corpse, the hole in his head indicative of his fate. she looked at the bag next to him, a quick confirming her fear - raiders. she rushed into the building, seeing their hiding places all ransacked - the slot in the bookshelf, the one under the table, the one behind a painting. her eyes saw a trail of blood, and, following it, she saw beth’s glassy eyes looking back at her.

a sob broke from her before she could realize - as, though she’d hoped for anything, anything else, she knew what the fate of her good friend had been. beth’s abdomen had been scarred, her jacket flipped out as though someone had scoured her pockets. the blood on her shirt had become flaky and a deep brown, having oxidized in the past few days.

she fell beside her, wanting to grab her hands, but recoiling at the stiffness of them, at how cold they were. her hot tears felt like a sharp contrast, and it only repeated the same juxtaposition in her mind: she was alive, and beth was dead.

she’d made the trip herself that day.

and every day after that.

she didn’t speak to anyone for a few weeks. her deals occurred over the span of a minute, maximum, and she didn’t greet the teenagers that lived across from her anymore, or the elderly man who would give her her ration cards for the days work. she went back a few days later to revisit her.

she had flowers - as many wildflowers as she could find on the way, and she placed them beside her as she shut her eyes, wincing again at the cold of her skin. it had begun to smell horrible in there, with the place becoming infested with scavengers.

she knew how much beth loved nature - hell, it was half of the reason she wanted to do these runs - so she - with all the strength she could muster, brought her about a hundred meters out, under the largest tree in the vicinity. she was sure it was a fruit tree of some kind - apples, or pears, she couldn’t tell. she laid her down lightly, pushing the flowers into her form delicately. she rubbed her own nose, willing the restarting tears to simmer, before backing away, sitting in the soft grass and just thinking.

beth was a loving person. somehow, through every way this pandemic hardened her, she still loved. she’d point out pretty, fragrant flowers on their hikes, she’d dream up elaborate meals and outfits, she’d always walk with a small pep in her step. sure, she was ornery when she needed to be, but she didn’t see too much of that. she saw the way beth would laugh, would smile, and would sing. she was terrible at it, but it never stopped her.

above all, beth loved her laugh. she loved the way her face lit up at a dumb joke, or outlandish comment. at the snarky comments beth would make to her friend, or the satirical ones about FEDRA and other smugglers.

she supposed that that day had been some form of closure for her. and she thought she’d do the little she could in beth’s memor: smile.

she was hard to miss in the q.z. it didn’t help that she was always waving at tommy, a quick greeting of hello - though, one not exactly common anymore. no, the problem was that damn smile. a smile never hurt anyone, except, of course, resident cynic joel miller. it always made him feel off, somehow, unable to feel comfortable with the notion of this bright thing in this desolated town of despair.

worse, though, was that he knew it wasn’t fake. he wondered how in hell she could be enjoying seemingly everything. he always let tommy handle that trade, though he did appreciate the goods. a packet of painkillers had initially seemed a steep price for chicken, but he was quick to realize which one they came by more often.

tommy would always chastise him for his sour face. his brother was always the more carefree one, more relaxed. the perks of a younger sibling, joel was sure, but he never mentioned it much. tommy’d always smile back at her; in fact, since her, he seemed to be smiling a lot more.

it made joel roll his eyes, the both of them acting like everything was fucking peachy.

that week, tommy’d been pulled away for a deal gone awry - some guy had sold their supply before being able to pay them back for it. he had some vendetta against joel, so the only way they could salvage the situation was through his more socially able brother. he was clear when he’d left:

“noon, joel. back alley two blocks from the soup kitchen, alright?” joel had nodded, only slightly, as he enjoyed a late lie-in - for the first time in about three weeks.

though he wasn’t particularly keen, he got up at about 11:45, rinsing his face to wipe the remnants of sleep from his eyes, before leaving the place. it was only a few blocks away, so he walked casually, taking a moment to peer into the soup kitchen to see if they were serving anything a step above edible. ah, who am i kidding? he thought, reminding himself of the lovely chicken he was about to pick up.

what joel wasn’t aware of was how precarious this area was, as a FEDRA thug would be stationed to glance over the back alleys about every 15 minutes to see if there was anyone trying to steal food from the soup kitchen. thus, there was only about a 5 minute gap where there were no guards. she knew it, and she knew that tommy knew it, so she wondered where he was, knowing if he delayed too much longer their window would be lost.

she tapped her foot impatiently on the floor, rolling her shoulders to just lightly relieve their pain. when she finally hear footsteps approaching, she breathed out a sigh, reaching quickly for her bag to shorten the time of the exchange.

“jesus, tom, what’re you doing? you know we can’t-” she was fumbling with the zipper of her bag, only realizing that it was in fact, not tommy when she looked up. her eyes widened for a moment, before she seemed to recognize him, her stance dropping a little from their tensed state, “j-joel? right?” he nods, silently, arms crossed, “do you have them?” he shrugged.

“let’s see what you have, first.” she paused for a moment, before realizing that he simply didn’t trust her.

“are you serious, man? look, we don’t have time for this-” she’s cut off by the crisp sound of boots on the floor, making her realize that their time had run out, “oh - shit-” she starts fumbling to close her bag and sling it back over her shoulder, and joel seems just a bit confused. that only increases when she grabs his hands, placing them on her hips, and pulling them further against the wall.

“what the hell-” she looks up at him with such earnest that he shuts up.

“i’m sorry, just trust me.” she whispers it on his cheek, their faces only a few centimeters from each other. he sharply nods, just as she realizes that the soldier was turning the corner. she stood just a bit taller, craning her neck so that her face was parallel to his, and wrapping her arms over his shoulders.

he was pulled into her lips, the momentum causing him to dig his fingers just a bit deeper into her hips, and his mouth moving a little viciously against her own. he hadn’t done this in a long time. he was sure his actions were a little shaky, and he reminded himself of the fact that she was only doing this to make sure that the guard wouldn’t find out about worse, more nefarious dealings.

but, god, she tasted nice. he wasn’t sure where exactly she would find fresh mint to chew on, but he figured it must be from the same place she got her chicken.

his beard felt just a bit prickly against her chin, and his lips were a bit chapped, but the way he was grasping onto her hips right now made her forget all of it. she knew the act he was putting up was pretty masterful, but that didn’t stop it from feeling good. the warmth of his body had even managed to make forget about the various pains in her joints.

“hey! what the fuck is going on here?” the sharp shout of the guard made them break away, but just slightly, and she feigned an expression of scandalized shock at seemingly being caught in such a heated moment. joel ‘recovered’ faster than she did, separating from her and clearing his throat.

“nothing! nothing, man.” he held his palm up in surrender, and the guard glanced over the both of them with keen, suspicious eyes. though, upon seeing the way the back of her hair was messed up from being placed by the wall, the way his clothes had bunched up near his shoulders, and her around her hips, and that both of them seemed a bit flustered and out of breath, he stepped back, gesturing them to come out.

“do not do it again. you’re not allowed in this area, yeah?” she timidly nodded, and joel mumbled a gruff thanks, the both of them reintegrating into the busier street. she keeps her eyes fixed to her feet, hands stuffed in her pockets.

“guess i’ll just got to yours - give it to you there.” she suggested, not knowing how else she’d be able to make the exchange.

“huh? yeah, yeah - okay.” joel was still just slightly shaken up by the encounter - both at how easy it was to convince the guard of his supposed intention of simply wanting to feel the warm touch of another - and how much of it was just an act. when he glanced at her glassy eyes, his gaze ghosted over her pigmented lips, having become brighter in their color due to the intensity of their actions.

he’s happy that his apartment’s so close, as he worries what would happen if he continued to ponder on it. the door’s lock is rusted to high heaven, but he fishes out his key, unlocking the door and swinging it open. he gestured for her to go in from of him, before closing the door again.

her eyes flit over the apartment: the shoddy couch and bookshelf just adjacent of the twin bed, and the rickety dinner table closer to her. it looked a lot like hers, really, save for the large radio placed between the couch and bed, making it seem as though as it was particularly important. hey, painkillers were her way of coping with their situation; maybe music is theirs?

joel patted the front of his pocket, before reaching two fingers into it, plucking out the painkillers, and placing them on the table in front of the both of them. she looks between the bag and him once, before smiling softly, realizing that his trust for her had obviously grown since just 10 minutes ago in the alley. she reaches into her own, pulling out the familiar box and placing it in front of her, before replacing the spot in her bag that had previously held it with the bag of painkillers.

as she’d placed it down in front of her, she’d let out a short exhale, the ghost of a laugh.

“considering that exchange, you should really enjoy this chicken, miller.” a smile had continued to dance on her lips, until she’d looked up to see his rigid face: pointed stare piercing into hers, his stance as reclusive as possible, his hands crossed tightly over his chest. her face also sobered a little, averting her gaze in the slightest confusion.

“you smile a lot.” he almost mumbles it, but the accusatory undertone in the pointed statement, makes her double-take, looking up at him with furrowed brows. her mouth hangs open as she formulates a response - unsure of what really to say to that.

“i’m sorry, solemn joel miller, for smiling?” she attempts a joke, but it’s directed at him, confused at the man’s distaste for such as simple thing. he shakes his head lightly, looking away and deciding to take the box off the table to have something to do with his hands.

“that’s not what i meant.”

“no, please! tell me what you did mean.” she knew it was also stupid to get defensive so quickly, but so much of that part of her was influenced by beth, that she couldn’t help but feel a small attack on her friend’s character as well.

“just - look around us, alright? their ain’t exactly a great world out there that you’re smiling for, and the little miss sunshine thing you do - it’s boring-”

“little miss sunshine?” she had completely stilled in her place, astonished by the fucking gall, “just cause everyone doesn’t want to hate every single part of their life, you fucking cynic.” she angled her body away from him, her rage evident in every movement. she wanted to rip into him - truly - but knowing it’d do nothing more than hurt her voice, she decided against it, snatching the painkillers off of the desk, and walking back out of the door, closing - or, really slamming - it behind her.

tommy had laid into joel after another two weeks, when, after his recent meeting with her, she had made it evident that she would not be dealing through joel again.

“what the hell d’ya say to her, man? have you seen her, joel? she never gets mad at anyone and you managed to piss her off in, what, 15 minutes?” joel took the berating with a seemingly bored expression, but he’d also wondered if his crass attitude had gone too far when he last spoke to her.

it was just that damn smile.

he didn’t even know why it effected him so much, but he couldn’t help it - every time he saw that damn smile, he couldn’t think about anything else but it.

it was a distraction - and that’s why it annoyed him, he was sure. but, a part of him seemed almost scared at the effect she had on him, but that part was not something he’d be addressing anytime soon.

besides, he hadn’t really had to see it much after that, as she’d gone out of her way to not only avoid him, but to make her expression neutral should his paths crossed. and, well, though he felt like a bit of a dick, he though that would have been the end of it.

until he realized that he missed it.

they didn’t speak for the next few months. they hadn’t spoken before, either, but maybe it felt a little weirder considering they’d practically felt each up against a wall previously. though, she didn’t let the strange hiccup deter her from her work - or her smile, continuing to do so in every opportunity that she could.

her and tommy still spoke, and him - being obviously the more emotionally intelligent brother - didn’t even really bring up joel all that much in their conversation. she’d always felt a wave of memory hit her whenever she waited in that alleyway, but she never had time to dwell on it as, contrary to his brother, tommy was always on time.

she had finally returned to that state of comfort that she had felt when beth was still alive, in no part helped by her recent friendships with a neighbor or two. there was an older man in the building across from her, who was very sweet - finding a small joy by gardening, of all things. he had just the smallest pot with a sunflower growing in it, but he had cherished it like it was his baby. she had thought that it was beautiful, and though she felt that the weather always seemed a little cloudy and grey, she found a new appreciation for the sunlight that was there when she’d see the sunflower greedily soaking it up, standing proud, through the crack in her neighbor’s door.

life had been so incredibly decent, that she had forgotten it was simply a calm before a storm, just as her friendship with beth had been.

it had started in the middle of the night. one of the many smugglers in the q.z. had been infected on a run - not wanting to give himself up to his companions, and sneaking back in under the shadow of night.

that group was the first to go, and by the next day, she was woken up to the sound of blaring FEDRA alarms, jolting up so hard that she hit her shin. she paused for just the slightest of moments, trying to comprehend what was being said.

“-infected in the quarantine zone-” was all she had to hear to leap to her feet, grabbing the bag that always sat by the edge of her bed, and immediately grabbing anything and everything that she could. when she finally through her door open, she realized that she was late to the party, as all of those in her building had already deserted it.

she could barely step out of the building when she heard the heavy gunfire. considering the resources FEDRA had put into this q.z. they evidently refused to go out without a fight, and as she looked at the other side of the street, she could see a small group of them, evident by their pale faces and slightly jagged movements, mouth’s curled to create those inhumane growls. she stumbles just slightly, ducking behind her building in order to escape their view. she knew of an exit that wasn’t going to be FEDRA monitored on the other side of the q.z., but she knew that journey was dangerous at best right now.

she moved slowly, relying on small spaces between buildings and back alleys in order to move. she could hear screams - human and infected - and incessant gunfire, making her ears ring.

she was so close to getting out of here, only having to cross the large expanse between FEDRA and the infected. it was risky - and that was putting lightly, but there wasn’t really another way out of here.

she slung her bag as comfortably as she could, seeing a small blockade in the middle that she could duck under before booking it the rest of the way.

so, she ran.

and she made it to the blockade, uninjured. the bullets had whizzed around her, and she wondered if she’d make it another time. she caught her breath, and turned her head to gauge the rest of the distance.

when she did, though, she saw her neighbor - her eyes widening - as she realized that he was attempting something similar to her. time practically slowed down as she heard the exact bullet that would hit him, making him crumple to his knees.

her inhibitions practically disappear, as she forgets everything, running forward without care in order to see if she could help him. the bullet had hit his chest, and his breathing labored as she pulled him up just lightly, mumbling anything and everything she could to console him through his pain.

she couldn’t do this again - she couldn’t see someone else she cared about dead. this time, at least, she had the opportunity to help, so she would regardless of the negative consequences for herself.

then again, that is what many who don’t realize the consequences would say.

they was so close to being out of their range, but one of the stray bullet pierced her thigh as she attempted to help him his up. her knees buckle, the searing pain hitting her after a moment of just nothing, and she feels her grip on him dissolve, the both of them falling.

she keeled over him, taking off her sweater and wrapping it around her thigh, before turning to him, having to crawl slightly forward with her limp leg in order to properly look at him.

she could see it - she could see him dying, his labored breathing nothing more than a prolonging of the inevitable. nonetheless, she scrunched up the fabric in that area, desperately attempting to stop the bleeding, but it was too little, too late. he suddenly grabbed her wrist, something she felt before she saw, as the tears welling in her eyes were detrimental to her vision.

“my - my flower, did you see it?” she nods, she nods so hard that she feels her head’ll fall off.

“’f course, of course - it was so pretty - the best thing in the building.” she was rambling, hoping to remind of something happier than his current predicament. but she didn’t need to. the recognition for his hard work had been more than enough, and she felt his sighs become longer and deeper, before his stopped moving altogether.

she brought her hands to her face, desperately trying to control her tears, but they just wouldn’t stop. futilely, she crawled up against one of the buildings, knowing that she’d suffer the same fate, as when she attempted to place even the slightest pressure on her thigh, she had to muffle her screams of pain in her hand.

when she hears her name being called, she’s sure she’s misheard it, keeping her head down, and continuing to wipe her eyes.

but, she hears it more clearly, and she knows it wasn’t her imagination anymore, so she looks up, and sees joel looking down at her with the most severe look of concern he’d ever exhibited in front of her.

“jesus - what-” as he approaches her, he sees the makeshift bandage on her thigh, and the glossy tears on her face, “you got-” he can’t finish the sentence, and she nods almost a little pathetically. he gives her a quick once over, before grabbing her bag and slinging it over his larger shoulders, making it seem very small. her mouth falls open, believing he’d taken it in order to scavenge supplies off a dying body. her breathing falters at the inhumanity of the actions, before she feels his arms encapsulate her frame: one behind her back and one under her knees, “you can’t walk, can you?” the shock renders her speechless, so she opts to nod instead, and he tightens his grip on her slightly.

it’s an odd sensation, being lifted off of the ground, especially since she’d never felt it before. her thigh strained slightly against gravity, making her exhale deeply, a hiccup remaining as a remnant of her sobs, but she knew this pain was still far more bearable than her attempting to walk.

“put your arms-” she realizes that he’s still talking to her, using the minimal movement his head was now capable of to help her put her arms around his neck, taking some weight off of his forearms. she obliges, tentatively wrapping her arms over, before turning her head slightly forward and seeing the body of her dead neighbor just a few meters away.

she chokes for a moment, a mix of a gasp and a cry escaping her - and it flusters joel, making to him turn his head slightly as well, upon recognizing what she was looking at, he sighed. the heartbroken expression on her face made even him upset, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to soothe her.

“just - damn - just keep your eyes on me, okay? you don’t have to see all that.” she looks up at him, shocked by the sweetness of the comment, before nodding slightly, breathing quickly to calm her tears. he begins moving, and she sticks to his word, alternating between looking up at him, and resting her head by instead looking at the flannel he had on. when she would look at his face, she could see the tinge of worry breaking through his stoic exterior, as he attempted to keep moving despite his somewhat debilitating cargo - her. she’d wince when he’d turn too sharply, or jolt to a stop, and though she attempted to keep her winces and whimpers to a minimum, his brows would furrow each time in worry, and he would glance down at her to make sure the pain wasn’t too bad.

he’d begin shouting tommy’s name at some point, and though it took only another 5 minutes for him to rejoin his brother, it had felt like an agonizing eternity to joel. tommy stood shocked at the scene: he cared for her, but he didn’t know joel did. at least, not enough to carry her across the q.z., by any means.

“what the hell? is she-”

“shot, her thigh. we gotta get out of here - is the tunnel open?” tommy, still a bit shocked, nods, mouth hanging open, as he opened the door of the building they were standing in front of. there three of them - two, she supposed, with her in tow - made their way up to the third floor, and tommy practically kicked open one of the apartment doors. it wasn’t difficult - its previous owner had obviously left in a hurry as well. he bolts to the other side of the room, as she takes one arm off joel’s shoulder to slam the door shut behind him. a great creaking came from in front of her, and she craned her neck to see tommy moving several loose floorboards, and opening up a heavy metal hatch with a distinct, grinding pop under them. he holds it open as joel and her near it, and, when their standing in front of it, she realizes the tunnel is about 2 meters deep - maybe a little less - with a short ladder allowing easy movement.

joel worries it’s far too large a fall for her. he sets her back to her feet as gently as possible, and she immediately places as little weight on one of her legs as possible.

“here, hold her.” he takes her my her arm, resting most of her body weight on him, and helps her over to tommy, who keeps her steady with one hand as he holds the hatch open with the other. joel’s quick to scale down the ladder, before he turns his head up to look at the both of them, “you’re gonna have to jump.” her eyes widened at the idea, not believing that she’d get off the ground, much less survive the jump.

“i-what?” joel holds his hands out, and when her eyes flick up to tommy, he nods solemnly - as it was their only option.

“i’ve got ya.” she breathes deeply, squaring her shoulders, before lowering as softly as she can to her feet. as she dangles her thigh over the edge, it squeezes it, and she lets out a sharp cry that make’s both brothers wince. she uses her hands to lever her body forward, before she closes her eyes, her breath stilling.

then, she jumps, and the moment of free-fall consumes her, her body feeling as though she’s floating. and, as quickly as it occurs, it stops, when she feels joel’s arms wrap around her lower back, effectively breaking her fall before she hit the hard dirt. she uses her hands to stabilize herself when he sets her down, clutching far too tightly onto his shirt, feeling as though she was still falling. he reciprocates, sensing her obvious worry, and pulls her close to his torso, letting her ease her breathing. in a few more moments, tommy’s managed to cover up the majority of the entrance and come down. he takes her bag off joel’s shoulders.

“want me to help her?” he offers, not exactly sure how long his brother had been carrying her, but knowing that a break may have been appreciated either way.

“i’ve got her.” it’s a sharp response, and it makes tommy furrow his eyebrows, confused by the tone. he doesn’t dwell on it, though, as joel’s picked her up again, and she’s buried her face into the crook between her and his chest.

it was a long trip through the long tunnel, but, when tommy finally opened the latch on the other side, she greedily looked up at the sun for the first time that cloudy morning, so enthusiastic that when she next blinked, she could see sun spots.

it’s just a short walk from there to one of the many houses that smugglers camped in overnight on longer trips. it was a bit dingy - but at least decently clean. the last time joel had been here, smashed glass from beer bottles had littered the floor, as did some rotting food.

there was only a couch and a bed, and joel sets her down on the couch as tommy checks their inventory.

they’re ridiculously low on supplies: enough food for only one meal, and neither enough weapons, ammo or supplies in the case of an unexpected visitor.

“shit - i’ll go over to c.v.s., see if they have anything.” there was a rundown c.v.s. just a short walk from this house that had been practically stripped by the time tommy and joel had first come by it. they’d, therefore, found it to be a perfect place to stash some supplies, as many would refuse to look too far upon seeing the initial emptiness, assuming that it had been picked clean. joel doesn’t even acknowledge the sentence until he hears the door click shut.

he’s looking down at her haggard form, and, seeing that her sweater had practically soaked through in blood, he reaches for their first aid.

at least the blood was a bit old, the pressure on the wound stopping the majority of the bleeding. joel grabs the crude tweezers, stretching them so that they could comfortably pluck out the bullet lodged in her flesh. she can see the dead expression on her face, showing her obvious disassociation from her painful sensation. a pillow still remained on the couch - shockingly - so he handed it to her, instructing her to bite down on it to forget some of the pain.

she looks at him with renewed worry, unsure of how decent an anesthetic biting would be. he places his palm lightly on the knee of her injured leg, hoping to keep it in place, as he removes the sweater. the wound made her gasp, the flesh having been mangled lightly due to the rough conditions. he lifted her chin up, urging her to instead look at the ceiling. her eyes flutter, and she can feel tears glass over her eyes when she feels the metal of the tweezers ever so lightly graze her skin.

“i’m - i’ve gotta take it out, okay?” she doesn’t nod, but she doesn’t protest either, so he takes it she understands, and he lightly pulls at the skin to make the wound larger, in order to more quickly pluck out the bullet. she whimpers around the pillow, biting hard already, and he lowers the tweezers.

she can feel them inside her skin, and she uses her hands to squeeze the pillow as well, her screams becoming more distinct, loud.

“you’re good, you’re good, you’re doing good-” joel doesn’t even know how to console someone, but he tries his level best, praising her endlessly as he swiftly, but meticulously pulls out the bullet. the blood restarts, practically spurting out of her leg, and she can feel the liquid over her skin, weaving around her hair follicles as she desperately attempted to keep her leg still. he places a cloth over it, before replacing it with gauze immediately, allowing the material to soak up the blood. the pain still consumed her, but it turned from sharp to more dull. she drops the pillow, along with her hands. they were both panting, but their breathing slowed, as they realized that the stress was less in that moment. he keeps a firm hand on her thigh, and she lets her head drop against the couch.

in another few minutes, he reminds her that he still needs to stitch her up. it hurt like a bitch too, but nothing trumped the feeling of the bullet leaving her body. he made swift work of the procedure, and she wondered how many times he’d had to do it.

when he’d finished, he lowered his arms, breathing a deep, relieved, and contemplative sigh as he sat back a little, taking weight off of his own legs. though her leg was stitched up, she was fully against the idea of getting up, so she relegated herself to getting comfortable on the couch. joel also got up after another few moments, placing the first aid back in her bag, before taking a look around the house - seeing if any previous visitors had forgotten any supplies.

they had, as an unopened ziplock of crackers sat in one of the kitchen cabinets. it hadn’t been here last month when they’d previously stopped by, and the opened the container, inspecting it carefully to see if it was alright to eat. he took a small bite and, determining that it was alright, he walked back over to the couch.

she had lightly adjusted to the side as he had neared, so he relaxed into the cushion next to her, trying not to invade her space. he handed her a cracker, which she graciously accepted. she hadn’t realized how hungry she was, not having eaten since the previous night.

“it’ll make you feel better,” he’d mumbled, as he handed it to her, and she breathed a quiet thank you in response. they sit in a silence only broken by the crunching of the crackers, and she finds herself ever so subtly glancing at the man next to her.

he looked tired, which was understandable, and his hard expression remained on his face. the severity of it reminded her of their only prolonged conversation - which was truly more of an argument.

“why - why did you help me?” it’d been a question plaguing her since he had so delicately patched her up - a far cry from the man who had condemned her for as little as smiling.

his brow furrows at the question, as he’d not been accepting it.

“what? you were bleeding out on the street - i couldn’t just leave you.” she let the explanation mull in her head, before shaking it.

“no - so many people were like that, but you only helped me. why?” he turned his body just slightly to face her, a bewildered expression on his face.

“did you not want me to?” she immediately protests.

“no! i mean - i’m grateful. honestly, i’d have been dead hours ago had it not been for you. it’s just-” suddenly, his stare felt too intense, and she averted her eyes, “you always gave off the impression that you didn’t like me.” she shrugs, hoping it’s a sufficient explanation. it seems to be, as he goes silent. then, he breathes deeply.

“i do - i do. tommy likes you, so i’ll like you.” it’s a diplomatic answer, and she realizes it, but she decides to nod instead of probing further.

“alright, well - thank you.” she goes to smile, but stops herself, “i’m allowed to smile, yeah?” she means it as a half-joke, but he finds a lot of amusement in it, looking at her quizzically, before laughing at the comment. she’d never even seen him crack a smile, much less a laugh.

it was a nice change of pace.

“please do. you haven’t done it since morning - i was starting to get concerned.” though her previous smile may have been one of politeness, this one comes from the sarcastic nature of the comment.

the quirk of her lips gave him some peace, his mind having been racing with worry over her for the past few hours. maybe it was distracting, but he supposed everyone needs a little bit of that.

and if it comes in the form of a pretty smile - even better.

#joel miller #joel miller oneshot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us hbo #the last of us #that damn smile #pedro pascal

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piglet26 · 2 months

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A Year In the Mess and the Millennial Cross Rory Bears. WINTER

Let's address the elephant in the room while I have you front and center. Rory in A Year in The Life was a commentary on millennials. Amy Sherman-Palladino, the creator, confirmed this was the inspiration for Rory's turn in AYITL. Rory was saddled with all the complaints the previous generations have of millennials such as millennials are spoiled, entitled, privileged blah blah blah. Hey now, now that we have not one but two generations under us I do understand the desire to complain (and be terrified). Gen Z and Gen Alpha general aesthetic is to be Billie Eilish lite as in angry, depressed, violent, or, antisocial. They have the lowest attention span recorded in human history and Taylor Swift is their greatest philosopher. Jesus take the wheel

The problem? None of this was in Rory Gilmore 1.0-character DNA. Matter of fact who the hell was Rory in the revival?! What the hell happened to her? We don't know. The Palladino's don't even bother expanding on it, but who does?! When it comes to Millennials we're to be mocked not understood. Most millennials came of age where there was a horrible job, house market and were in an economic recession. Our lives were being taken over by technology and social media. Rory picked a profession that was still mostly print at the time of her college graduation.... this is an entirely digital market now and one readers now pay for if they want something of substance. How lucrative is a real authentic journalism career? Not just think pieces or a seat on CNN or Fox News roundtable?

This is why A Year in the Life was a Mess

Believe me, I wanted to love it. This is my childhood we're talking about here. I loved Stars Hallow. Love my Gilmores. Yet, when I finally tuned I did so when just a hint of dread.....gradually all my fears were realized. Thus after 6.2 hours concluded somehow, we got somewhere, nowhere, found out little, nothing at all, were satisfied and just plain frustrated. So, let's break this mess down by episode. While mainly I will cover how the revival failed Rory - I will mention other frustrations because I can.

Winter

Why is Rory only in town for a day?! She's gotta leave for London soon. What has she been doing?! Ok, she's written a piece in the New Yorker, but how does that work?! Are you on staff? Do you submit freelance pieces and they choose them? She's a good writer, she's always been a good writer, and she's shown she is capable of running a paper - why is she struggling?! They doubled down on the millennial annoyance by having Rory abandoned Brooklyn as it was going condo and Lena Dunham. Subtle.

Super-Proud Luke is and always will be cute and Rory is so his kid. He's now a subscriber to The New Yorker which he reads every week just to support Rory. Also, he's attached her article to his menus so everyone can read it. Which she treats as cringe instead of sweet and supportive, but I'll let it go. Luke, Lorelai and Rory really are found family and super adorable.

Yes, the bit about everyone forgetting Paul is funny but THIS ISN'T RORY?! Paul seems genuinely sweet and thoughtful not just to Rory but her whole family so why are we doing this? Again, this is someone's depiction of a millennial. I guess we're really shitty to great guys. Rory had never been previously depicted as self-centered jerk just slightly oblivious as well all are.

It's a thrill to see all the old characters make a cameo.

The loss of Ed Herrmann was a gut punch to his cast. You can tell. It's also serves as a gut punch to the audience. We will miss you old chap. Rory following Emily around at the repast is the first hint of old Rory we've seen on this show yet.

It also serves as another wasted opportunity. No one except Emily seems to be genuinely affected by Richard's passing. The Gilmores are a small family, but a tight one. The patriarch passing surely would've affected all three gilmore girls deeply. It would've been better had we found Rory on a cooperate writing staff in London (employed by Logan) that she quit to spend more time at home to support her mother and grandmother. It would've been nice had Richard's passing compelled her into finding meaning beyond professional success. It would've been nice if they showed her pursuing something related to Richard from a journalistic perspective. They could've showed her on the road chasing a story to run into Jess or Dean or hell any of the countless characters. SOMETHING. Instead, we got spiraling millennial which is continuing to just seem misguided.

Berta and her roving family is trash and I didn't need them.

Emily starts in on Rory current state of homelessness which bring me to my next point of contention..... How is Rory broke?! She's had Trixie/Gran, her grandparents, Logan, Luke and her father?! I don't care that she's privileged unlike a lot of the privileged but not as privilege youtubers who enjoy spitefully and bitterly complaining. Despite what these grips say no, Rory's success has never come easily to her. The reality she was studying and investing her teenage years in academic pursuits while Rory's haters were partying or watching TV. Rory's always been resourceful and yet can't find a way to make a steady income in addition to writing. What's going on?

April/ Knock-off Rory is annoying, and it doesn't escape me that Luke prefers Rory. I'm glad hehehe. I mean he has a kid biologically and yet he considers going to Rory's graduation as going to his kids graduation. Side note: I know the creators would like to pretend that season 7 never happened but what are we doing here?! LnL have seriously never talked about having kids in the last 9 freakin' years?! Well at least we know why..... miscommunication and we needed a way to write medical Paris Geller into the story. Surrogacy is actually perfect for a medical student that doesn't actually like sick people.

Paris Geller ah I love this cold-hearted little psycho.

Okay Rory is writing a book with a queer drunk brit who steals food from other people, this is who she wrote her New Yorker piece on. This is the depiction of the feminist on the show.

I love Logan and I Love Rogan, but WHAT ARE WE DOING?! Why are they both having affairs with people they don't care about. Rory cheated once? twice?......okay Rory is a cheater, but why?

Paris and Doyle but of course they did! Can't have a happy couple in Stars Hallow or anywhere near it for long. I can see them having problems though because they've always had problems and sexually resolved them. Plus, in Paris's ideal functioning world she's married to Rory and Doyle.

WHY DOES RORY GILMORE HAVE ALL OF HER SHIT ACROSS FIVE HOMES?! How much stuff does she have? Honestly. Rory was always organized. At this point we've just got a personality transplant.

Once again, this is the main problem with the revival. None of this is behavior or characteristics we've associated with Rory. It's insert millennial here from a jaded baby boomer.

This is exhausting....................................... and I'm gonna have to take this in shifts. Next up spring.

Side note: Christmas here would be amazing and so charming.

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #emily gilmore #happy gilmore #lorelai gilmore #logan huntzberger #luke x lorelai #luke danes #a year in the life #gilmore girls a year in the life #rory and lorelai #netflix #literati #jess mariano

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hqbaby · 9 months

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okay, ngl, i'm already tearing up before you got me mentioned on your taglist for this chap and when i finished reading that italic part i found myself sobbing real hard.. like whyyyyyyyyyyyyy, it scared me more. @wolffmaiden this is the reason why i dont trust boys easilyyy 😭 and you, hqbaby, thank you for this chap 😭

but hey, im still team suna. i know boys are assholes but if you wont give them a chance to redeem themselves, they'll just think it's fine to be assholes bc no one else would take them srsly anyway, so they wont stop. idk if this makes sense, but im speaking my head rn. im open for discussions.

and for those who has a boy waiting for them, (well like someone covered in blood referenced from the last chap?????), i think you should think for one second, "yea, he deserves someone better, but will he be happy with that person instead of you? can you even imagine him being with someone else?"

yn, yn said no, obv. 🤭 but yn is fixing ayame first, precious girl 😭 yn doesn't want ayame to be like herrrr 😭

this is very long im sorryyy

thank you for sharing your thoughts, i'll leave it to the others to respond bc i might end up spoiling 😩 this chap was a lot ngl but i'm rly glad i got to write it for you guys <3

#m.replies

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i-love-southpark-milfs69 · 9 months

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Just thinking about a au where instead of Pip parents dying with him as a tiny infant, they died when he was nine (you know like a Lilo & Nani kinda situation)

Like this quote from "Lilo and stitch" with slight changes to fit their characters better

Pip: I do think I highly preferred when you were merely my sister and not me mummy

Mrs.Gargery: Yeah...so did I Phillip

(I'm specifically thinking of this scene)

youtube

Mrs.Gargery would most likely be less hostile towards Pip in this as she did not have to raise him from birth this time but she would still resent his existence for making her take care of a child she did not want making very little effort to physically take care of him as "he's old enough to take of himself he doesn't need pampering"

This I feel would also end up being said by them

Pip: Mummy wouldn't have have yelled at me to be quiet when I started crying! She would have sung me a song and wiped my tears as she told me that I was okay, but all you do is yell and hit me!

Mrs.Gargery: That's because I am not your mummy I am your sister, I'm not going to spoil and coddle you like she stupidly did!

Pip: mummy did not spoil me she loved me unlike you, you...you rotten sister!

After that she would drag him as hard as she could by his arm and throw him in his room

Mrs.Gargrey: You want to talk to me like that huh, well let's see how you feel going straight to bed with no supper tonight

After slamming the door so hard the walls practically shook Pip just angrily shoves his head in his pillow and screams his little lungs out until the anger passes and he starts crying till eventually he just exhausts himself and falls asleep

It's the dead of night when he wakes up due to hunger pains from not eating anything before bed, he tries his best to ignore these pains and go back to sleep but alas his stomach was not going to stop until he ate something

He pushed himself out of bed and slowly tiptoed his way toward the kitchen as to not wake his sister, when he first stepped foot in the kitchen he instantly eyeballed the bread box that sat upon the counter and darted towards it practically swallowing the biscuit he had grabbed whole

With his now satisfied stomach he tiptoed his way back to bed putting himself underneath the covers and falling back asleep

It was the next morning at breakfast when Pip sat down at the table the guilt of stealing sitting heavily on his back leaving a nervous look stuck on his face, his thoughts about his sister finding out what he did last night making his anxiety go up by the second before jumping up in his seat after feeling a hand make contact with his shoulder

"oi pip ol'chap what has got you so jumpy this morning"

Joe said with a look of concern on his face as he took his hand back, Pip didn't say anything as put his head down avoiding eye contact with Joe as he did

"Are you gonna give me an answer or not pip ol'chap"

Pip took a breath and raised his head to look at the man infront of him before speaking

"I...I..I'm feeling very guilty about something naughty I did last night and I don't want sister to know"

"Ah well...how about this then old chap, if you don't tell your sister then I won't either"

"... you promise you won't tell sister"

"I promise Phillip"

"ok well last night sister punished me by sending me off to bed with no supper but I woke up in the middle of the night with really bad stomach pains because of this...so I snuck out of bed and ate-"

Pip speech was interrupted by a slam of a door echoing through out the house that made fear run up his spine

As his sister stomped her way through the kitchen with some things in her hand Pip sunk in his chair as the guilt became heavier on him

His sister was organizing whatever she had boughten from the store that day when she grabbed a loaf of what looked to be bread and went to open the bread box in in order to refill it

Upon opening the bread box she examined it for a few seconds with a look on her face as if she was counting something before throwing the bread in the box and turning around to glare at the blonde boy sitting at the table

"Pip would you care to explain why a biscuit is missing"

Pip face went pale with fear as he sat back up and looked at his sister as he hesitantly opened his mouth to speak

Joe seeing this instantly knew what Pip was going to say in the conversation they were having beforehand and put his hand infront of Pip stopping him from speaking

"Ah honey that was me sorry about that"

Pip just stared in bewilderment at Joe as relief washed over him

His sister just merely turned back to her busy countertop

"oh...alright then"

Before Joe had a chance to say anything he felt a pair of arms around his waist and a face pressing against his chest, he just sighed happily as he shoved his hand underneath the brown newsboy cap that sat on top of the blonde boy's head and softly rubbed his head

"Thank you Joe"

"you are most certainly welcome Phillip"

Anyways hope you have enjoyed my Ted talk byeeee (also Damien would totally be stitch in this au)

#Milfy talks #south park #sp pip pirrup #sp pip #Youtube

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silvertsundere · 8 months

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Silver Talks AniManga (15/10/23)

it really does feel weird watching so many shows I'm used to reading a ton of stuff but I haven't watch this many things in years anyway next week should have another big catch up but not gonna say it'll happen for sure cause something might come up but anyhoo

green - new series/new to me

Anime

Hoshikuzu Telepath Ep1

very cute show as you'd expect from a kirara series god it's been so long since I've watched a CGDCT show but it still slaps, as usual, so I'll be looking forward to this cleansing shot for this season also main cast is all newbies, except one of them randomly is aoki shiki which is p funny to me also also, op and ed are good tho op feels like an ed too (it's mikku tho so it's good 🙏)

Frieren Ep6

great ep once again, I know the frieren fight with the demon guy had some sakuga but I certainly didn't expect to see some this ep too it was really good. and also the interactions between fern and stark are p funny they got good chemistry

Undead Unluck Ep2

extremely good ep, might even say it was better than ep 1 like it was just that great. the direction is still great, I especially liked how they lined up the ep title card with andy saying the line and it didn't break up the action much, hope that's a recurring thing tho also hope they're a bit more ambitious with it. it was also pretty funny seeing all the shaft style shots, which makes sense cause there's a buncha old shaft staff in this but still. the sakuga was really good too. also we got both the op and ed and they're both great, visually and musically, tho the OP visuals go hard as hell. anyway next week we're getting gina so I'm very pogged up for my queen yuuki aoi getting to shine for 2 eps

Pokemon Horizons Ep24

pokemon's back from it's 2 week between cours break with a very lore heavy ep which we already knew would be the case from the previews but I expected to get a lil more action near the end. anyway despite being so lore heavy it was mostly about riko's grandma and not the lucius stuff the plot is built around like I expected. wasn't a bad ep tho. next one looks like it'll have a lot of action so that'll be fun. and in 2 or 3 more eps that new gaki girl will get some more screentime which should be good too

Adult Precure Ep2

DON'T YOU HATE BEING RIGHT??? last week I said: "I just hope they have new cure forms as adults instead of transforming into their younger selves." and guess what the hell happened? MAN I'm so mad. and toei only did it to save costs too cause they reused the stock footage from the old show, man this is so disappointing... but the rest of the episode was really good, even the action after the transformation was good (yoshiyama yuu 🙏) I'm just let down they chose to do this instead of giving them new adult cure forms 😔

Imas Million Live Ep2

great episode, as you'd expect from imas, with an especially good performance from shizuka at the audition at the end. also got to see a bunch more girls do stuff, like anna streaming, so that was fun. I was thinking that it's a shame that the show is only 12 eps (despite being cg) cause I wanna see the girls more but then I realized U149 was also just 12 so it should be fine. it's imas anyway so I'll enjoy my time with it while I can

Manga

Blooming Love Ch15

yknow, at the start I did say I could see this series being p short, but this chap skipped so much time and made it seem like it's ending soon which feels p abrupt. it could continue after this but I don't think it will, we'll see in some weeks I guess

Kill Blue Ch25

I thought we'd get at least 1 more chap of this but it was still p good, just a comedic chill thing to break up the tension after that little action arc

Witch Watch Ch129

we got to the end of this longish arc but shinohara really fooled me, ofc it wasn't gonna be that easy. I'm not gonna spoil the twist at the end of the chapter but WOW really didn't see that coming. I thought this was nearing the end but I can see it going quite a bit longer now

#silver talks animanga

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theplaguewriter · 2 years

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His wings twitched in anticipation, he was sprawled out beneath you on the bed. You had him where you wanted him, kisses spilled from your lips, covering each inch of skin that you could reach.

Your hand traced the faint scars on his side, marking them down in your mental map of his body. Keigo had been feeling off lately, having to deal with Hero work and fans, he didn’t feel like the greatest boyfriend. You, on the other hand, understood. He had not neglected you. Not at all. He still asked about your day, listened intently and asked questions, pushing away his own tiredness. He had made it to every date, until today. Some villain had popped up and he didn’t get home until late.

Which lead to this current situation: His teary face looking up at you, the only good thing in his cursed life. Peppering him with kisses, sneaking in a kittenlick here and there. He couldn’t believe how kind you were to him, how he had deserved you.

You did not heed any of his weak protests, saying how he should spoil you. Instead, you started to gently kiss his neck, a sure way to make the hero go very quiet and soft in your embrace. You sat up, straddling him, and took his hand in yours, kissing first the back of it, then the palm and finishing by giving each fingertip a soft kiss. Exaggerating on the pinky, you gave him a big smug smile.

“You need to relax, Love. You’re doing so well in every aspect. You are an amazing hero. You are kind to your fans. You take such great care of me. You fulfill every task the commission gives you dutifully. Such an amazing man, and I get to call you mine.”

Hawks swallowed at your words, his chest swelling. He was used to the praise of his fellow heroes and fans, but coming from you, these words may as well have been nectar from the Gods.

In a flash he sat up, arms wrapping around your middle and head nestled under your chin. He pulled you impossibly close to his chest, needing to feel your warm skin against his, to make sure you’re not just a dream.

“I love you…How did I get this lucky?” His voice was barely above a whisper, the words were meant for your ears only.

You two locked eyes, the moments passing might have felt like an eternity. No words were needed. You understood him, and he understood you. As his lightly chapped lips met yours, you poured all your feelings into the kiss, knowing they’d reach him.

Gently you pushed him back, so he’d be flat on his back again. Your hand sliding down his chest in a soft caress, while his found their place on your thighs, squeezing the flesh reassuringly.

The kiss soon turned from sweet to more needing, the need to be closer, to be connected. To be one. Neither of you cared that it got a little messy, it was after all not your first time. Your hand went from his chest to his hip, stalling there. The grip he had on your thighs tightened, one hand shot up your back, pushing your upper body down on his.

You broke the kiss first, for oxygen and to make sure he was alright with going further too. The slightly dazed smile and whispered terms of affection were enough to make your hand slide to his groin.

#bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks #keigo takami #mha #bnha #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #suggestive #this was supposed to become bodyworship but oh well

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books-and-catears · 3 years

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Old Flames and New Faces (Part 4)

Tagging as requested: @greenlit-mess @satans-favorit3 @beelsmeal @candymeowz @wafermelons @tanspostsblog @abyssmal-skies @oriaedvige03 @percythebitchwitch @obeythebutler @mammonie @rosesthorn

(Note: I'm so sorry but some of the tags don't seem to be working I'll try and fix that)

<- Chap 3 || Chap 5 ->

It seemed things at HOL had deteriorated faster than you could imagine. You didn't understand what caused it - they seemed to love Lily with all their being. But she refused to accept it.

At lunch time, while you sat with Solomon, Simeon and Luke - she used to sit with the brothers. Well not all of them at once - because half of them were busy but most of them.

But now she didn't anymore. She'd befriended other demons and hung out with them instead. And more often than not she sat with you.

"Does Levi have to keep on spouting nonsense about his animes? It makes my brain hurt. And I'm tired of lending Mammon money. He can quite literally be eaten by the witches I don't care! And Asmo?! Dear lord, how can someone have so much to say about themselves!?" She ranted.

Solomon struggled to keep his food in his mouth while Simeon accidentally snorted. Even Luke couldn't stop giggling. And honestly some days even you had to agree.

"And what's with Satan's obsession with Lucifer? He says he hates him but the way he wakes up every morning to exact revenge makes me think he's obsessed. And Lucifer just seems to like it somehow. Cause he never does anything about it. What kind of a father-brother weird dynamic is this?! It's a family full of TSUNDERES!"

"Lily stop!" You barely could speak from the laughter. "Someone's gonna hear you! Stop already!"

But it seemed she was even out of Lucifer's control. She broke curfew, blatantly ignored them and instead of joining in the pranks against Lucifer, she played her own pranks on everyone. While the brothers slowly got maddened by this behaviour, you could feel your heart soften for her.

She was adorable when she broke into your room to cuddle you at night, cause Belphie drools too much. She was so cute when she barged into the kitchen asking fudge and ice cream because Beel had cleaned out the fridge.

She looked upto you like a little sibling and you couldn't help but spoil her sometimes. She was the cutest little rebel you'd ever seen.

Soon enough, the brothers realized, they preferred having you living with them instead. You were not nearly this disobedient or borderline mean to them.

But now the predicament was you were nicely settled into your new home, your new life. You didn't quite have time for them either.

"Hey um MC..." Mammon called you up one evening, "So we haven't done our movie marathons lately. I have a new one downloaded do ya wanna come over and watch maybe?"

"Sorry Mammon," You apologized as you watch the popcorn cook. "Luke has this movie he's waiting forever to see it. It's group movie night tonight so can't make it today sorry."

"MC! Help it's an emergency!" Levi confronted you in class, "There's a group gaming event for Ruri Chan: Romance Wars and we're one member short, please join our team!"

"Oh shoot. I'm sorry Levi but I'm already part of another team." You said, pointing to Solomon and Simeon. "Them along with Lily - we are team Xchangers. Funny isn't it?!"

"MC, remember those two cats in the park that we always go to visit? They disappeared today." Satan whispered to you in the library. "Will you help me go find them? After that we can revise History and Spells too."

"Oh you mean Saffron and Sushi? Yeah they are all fine! Solomon and I took them." You laughed, "Yeah we built them a mini house in the garden they love it. Also don't worry about tutoring anymore - Simeon loves teaching me. And he tells me so many stories of the Celestial realm too haha."

"I'm so glad you're finally doing this." Lily said, chewing on apples you'd cut for her.

"Doing what Lily?" You ask. She chuckles and sits next to you.

"You humans are so nice you don't even realize." She said, "Showing them your worth. Like you should have these two years. God knows they deserved that."

"Lily...what are you talking about? They didn't do anything-" You tried to reason but she lifts her palm up and shakes her head.

"You were kept in the house to be kept safe. Yet that is where you lost your life. The nerve of these demons." She muttered.

"Who told you...about all this?" You ask. Noone ever brought it up because how unpleasant the whole situation was. Who could have told her?

"Not important. Just stay here and keep away from them. They'll learn their lesson soon enough." She said. "See ya later, MC."

She left the room like a hurricane, leaving all your thoughts in a mess of uncertainty, confusion and deep down...fear.

#obey me #obey me angst #obey me leviathan #obey me imagine #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me levi #obey me belphie #obey me game

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zodiakuroo · 3 years

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Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours. Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle. Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”. All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

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writer-akihiko · 3 years

Note

I can’t tell if ur open for Ikevamp requests but ima try anyway😅 I was wondering if you could do Mc as a descendent of one of the boys and them watching Mc falling in love with someone

IkeVamp Boys + Descendant!MC

This work is labelled as #slightly not family friendly because of implied innuendos

This work only includes the boys who have canonically had a wife. Also, Reader’s ethnicity is still your ethnicity, but there might be parts mentioned where you, Reader is also part [ethnicity] of a certain suitor.

I was so glad to bring back the IkeVamp Wife AU [although, it’s not in angst form this time] and this gave me some wholesome family prompts to write! Thank you for always sending really interesting and nice requests to me.

Napoleon Bonaparte

You did know that Napoleon was one of your ancestors, well, at least on your European side

At first you were uncomfortable so you disclosed it to Comte

Sooner or later Napoleon found out, and he connected the dots himself since you reminded him of his wife so much

From that day on, Napoleon acted as an older brother to you, making sure you're comfortable in the mansion

The other residents were mostly aware and if they weren't a flirting mistake could lead to overprotective brother Napoleon

You were fine with being referred to as his sister or cousin on occasions where it was difficult to explain your familial relationship with him

Additionally you had also gotten close to Jean, Napoleon's sparring partner and close friend

Napoleon could see the romantic shyness that bloomed around you two

Once you were gone with Sebastian, he confronted Jean

"Do you like YN?"

Jean himself was at a loss for words. He wanted to say yes, but he also didn't want to burden Napoleon with a son-in-law such as him

"Jean, I believe that you're a wonderful man for her, but it's YN's decision to accept you as her partner."

Napoleon's pep talk to Jean got Jean to confess to you

You two had a very loving and healthy relationship, and Napoleon himself had the liberty of walking you down the aisle

"Jean, YN, I wish you the greatest happiness."

Arthur Conan Doyle

He had this odd feeling about you, because he wasn't his usual flirtatious self around you

Instead, you two would engage in deep thoughtful conversations

Comte eventually dug up some records because Arthur felt like it was a mystery the he couldn't solve

After the revelation of you and Arthur being related, he treated you as a sibling to him

He did become a little overprotective in terms of you travelling outside, but he trusted the residents enough so that you could go out with at least one resident accompanying you

He loves to spoil you most of the time with whatever money he had left to spare

He also loves to take you to town just to see your eyes glimmer of the town

Theo would also accompany you two much to his reluctance

Well, Arthur deduced that Theo was reluctant following you two because of himself but he caught Theo's glances to you

A small drinking game exposed Theo's feelings towards you, particularly about how adorable he thought you were

"Well Theo chap, you're a good man I'll give you that. I'll tolerate you being her lover."

Theo was unfortunately too drunk to remember his confession, so matchmaker Arthur sent him with you in your pretty outfits he got for you on a date errand

Theo eventually got together with you, and Arthur didn't mind much except when you two were being a tad bit too loud for his liking

"Theo you better not be ravaging her too much!"

He eventually gives you two privacy

As a whole, he may not agree with Theo on certain things but he'll let it slide since you were so happy with him

He was shamelessly bawling uncontrollable tears at your wedding

Dazai Osamu

Oh? What's this? You say that you're his descendant?

At first, Dazai seemed quite nonchalant about it, but you felt like something was bothering him by how brash he was with you

You decided to ask him then. "Dazai-san, did I… offend you?"

He shook his head. "No, although I'm afraid I accidentally offended you. If you remember our family history…" He drifted off. "I was a horrible person to your ancestral mother. Please accept my apology."

You smiled. "That's all I needed to hear."

Dazai took on the role of a more caring brother than he'd like to admit

You two weren't necessarily close together, but he does like to take you on mini-adventures

It's either that or he teases Apple-kun, which you had to witness

Ah, but what's this? Apple-kun isn't blushing at his teasing, but he's blushing… at you?

What a turn of events!

Of course Dazai goes to Arthur and tells him of his interesting discovery

Needless to say the teasing does escalate than Isaac would prefer

"Oh, so you took a liking to my pseu-daughter? Apple-kun, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree~"

"Okay fine I like YN! Now please stop it!"

Right on cue, Arthur brought you to the parlour where Dazai was teasing Isaac

You were blushing for sure, so you called out to Isaac.

"Isaac? Do you mean it?"

Dazai himself couldn't help but chip in. "Apple-kun, I don't mind you wooing my pseu-daughter but I don't know how to feel if I got apples as grandkids…"

"CAN'T YOU READ THE ROOM?!"

After rescuing Isaac from his intense embarrassment, Dazai and Arthur left you two lovebirds alone

Theodorus Van Gogh

What's this? +1 big sister?!

Is this heaven?

Well, that's how he perceived it anyway. He was glad to see how his wife handled herself, but he did admit a tiny regret of his where he left her behind

He now has a new sibling, and he does spoil you and Vincent very much so

You turned out to be slightly concerned of his syrup consumption

On days he was busy, you would accompany Vincent to visit William

He was not happy when William shows up at the mansion's door with a bouquet of flowers addressed to you

"Fine, I shall take my leave," Will said

He did not expect William to climb the rose wall

"YN! YN I'm here for you~" He said, waiting for you to open the balcony door

"Will! What are you doing?!"

"Theo won't let me see you through the front door~"

Theo ran out the front, threatening to throw a brick at Will for his attempts at wooing you

He didn't threaten he just grabbed the nearest brick and hurled it at William

You were a little worried about Will, so you decided to pull a power move

"William! Will you go on a date with me?'

Despite his bruised shoulder from the brick, he tosses you the bouquet with a grin on his face. "YES MY LOVE I SHALL!"

In the end, Theo was in tears on the ground

"Now now Theo, YN can choose her lover for herself…"

"Broer! Our precious zuster…"

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

He had the suspicion about you the moment he saw you

Comte's introduction of you only confirmed it

He had this soft smile around you, and would always go out of his way to make sure that you were comfortable in the mansion

You would always help him clean up in his piano room and he'd always tell stories of his married life when you were around

He was fairly quiet with other residents however, and you somehow understood all his moods

You did meet Jean and befriended him. Mozart was usually busy with his compositions, so he makes Jean accompany you

You didn't spend most time outside, so most of the time you assisted Sebastian with the chores

From his balcony view, Mozart could see the way you two were enjoying each other's company

He summoned Sebastian to his room once, and asked him.

"What do you have to offer YN?"

"Herr Mozart are you alright?"

He looked Sebastian up and down, slightly scrutinising him

"If she finds interest in you, I'll allow it."

You were a little surprised to walk in on those two, although you had to admit that you were blushing when Mozart confronted Sebastian about your relationship

"I have no idea what you're talking about Herr Mozart."

Sebastian saw your head peak through the door

You walked in, taking Sebastian's hand in yours and looking at Mozart

"Mozart, we're um.. Childhood sweethearts," You explained. "Even in the future. We broke apart ever since Akihi- I mean, Sebastian left with Comte but we have gotten back together."

Mozart was quite stoic at this revelation, but he certainly shed a few tears when Sebastian told him of his plans to marry you

"I'll… I hope you're good to her Sebastian."

Comte Saint Germain

Comte himself knew who you were, but he wasn't sure if you yourself knew

He had a chat with you, briefly explaining your family history

"Your grandfather, a dhampir, married a sorceress, your grandmother. Your grandfather was my grandnephew… Such a shame he passed so early…"

"Does this mean I have any special abilities?"

He shook his head, quite doubtful. "The humans that married into the branch of the family decreases your chances. You might live a little longer in human years, but I'm unsure if you're semi-immortal like your grandfather."

You didn't keep this a secret from the other residents, but you were also new to the mansion

You worked diligently in Comte's stead, handling the household affairs and sharing chores with Sebastian

Leonardo would often chat you up in return for him to share his knowledge of the vampire world

Comte didn't like that you were getting close to Leo, for many reasons

Leonardo was genuinely interested in you, so he disclosed his awareness of Comte's dislike to his attempts at charming you

You had to admit that Leo was quite an amiable man and you would consider a relationship with him

You appreciated Comte caring about your well-being, but you did want to stay with Leo

"Comte, I love him and nothing can change that."

"Well said cara mia…"

He wasn't happy about it, but seeing you happy gave him enough reassurance

"Leo, if you hurt her I will shoot you at your wedding."

"Oh, so you approved our wedding! How wonderful!"

"Sebastian! Fetch me my gun…"

William Shakespeare

He was a little surprised when Comte introduced you to him

You wanted to live with William as it comforted you with the thought of a relative being nearby, no matter how many decades you two are separated by

You would praise him daily, especially in his writing and he would tell you stories of his life before he was a vampire in return

When a knock on the door was heard, William left you, and with him he brought a gentleman named Vincent

Well, it wasn't any regular Vincent! It was Vincent Van Gogh!

You were a little nervous being in the presence of another famous historical figure…

William left to fetch some tea, but late on you found out that Vincent was an angel

Vincent himself found you to be quite charming and elegant himself, so when William returned, he asked William if he could paint a portrait of you

You did agree to being a model for Vincent, but you wanted William's approval since you'd be going out more often

"As long as someone accompanies you to the mansion, and as long as you take Puck with you to play with Brush. I'll allow it," He said, patting your head

He did notice you returning with a romantic grin on your face, and he was quite intrigued about it

"YN, do you like Vincent?" He simply asked, grinning

You turned away, muttering a slight 'maybe'

He decided to call on Vincent at the mansion, and the residents were having breakfast at the time

"Vincent! My friend… I have news for you!"

Theo and Leonardo weren't happy at his arrival, so William made his announcement quick

"YN is interested in you, so please court her wholesomely!"

With that, he ran off but he still relished in the sound of Arthur spitting out his coffee and Theo choking on his pancakes

Vincent took up on his offer, and you two lead quite the quiet, peaceful relationship

William was eccentric enough, so you two were glad to lead a quiet life

William did try to make your wedding quite jubilant, but he also couldn't help himself from acting a tragic scene when Vincent claimed you as his bride

"Should you stop him?" Vincent asked, as your guests watched on as William blurted out his sonnets of sorrowful marriage

"I'll leave him," You said. "He doesn't truly mean those words… I think."

#slightly not family friendly #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp william shakespeare #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp comte #ikevamp comte saint germain #ikevamp arthur conan doyle #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp william #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikevamp napoleon

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marvels-writings · 3 years

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Moments like These

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Requested by @procrastinatingsapphictrash : Natasha x reader with prompts 1, 16 and 27 from the types of kisses prompt list? You don't have to do this since I know you asked for angsty prompts, I was planning to but then I saw this and it was so sweet! Btw I love your fics!

1: Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

16: One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

27: Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

Summary: Moments like these, making dinner for your girlfriend and falling in love with her all over again are everything to you.

Word Count: 1.1k (shortish and oh so fluffy)

A/N: This is like EXTREME fluff, it’s kind of to make up for the angst requests I got earlier. But it really is tooth rotting fluff and you’ll love it

A warm smell blanketed the room in its comfort, radiating from the oven to infect the rest of the apartment. The smell wasn't in any way unwelcome, just unusual. Soft music accompanied it as you sat on the bar stools, waiting for the dish you'd spent hours on making to cook.

Beef stroganoff shouldn't have taken you more than thirty minutes, but you'd made everything from scratch. Your only hope was it resembled what Natasha missed in Russia. The dish was to spoil her when she came back from the mission since you knew how much she had been dreading it.

It seemed almost right that she didn't want to take it as she walked back in, looking exhausted and beaten. A bruise was formed under one eye, soot covering her face and her ripped suit. Her red hair was dusty, tied back into a messy braid. She limped in, perking up at the smell surrounding your home, her eyes searching for you.

Natasha chuckled when she saw you seated on the barstool, humming to yourself, oblivious to her. It wasn't until you heard her laugh did you notice she was there; you grinned and beckoned her over.

"Nattie!" You exclaimed excitedly, meeting her in the center of the kitchen. Her smile grew at the nickname you called her, already happier now that she was home with you.

Your arms encompassed her waist in a tight hug, bringing your head to rest on top of her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. You felt her take in a deep breath and let it out, grounding herself with you.

The longer the hug took, the more weight she rested on you. The exhaustion rolled off of her in waves; you knew all she wanted was to sleep. But she had to eat first, even if it was to gratify the hours you'd spent making stroganoff for her. It was because you knew she didn't eat until she was safe at home with you.

"Hi, love," Natasha squeezed you tightly before letting go. Keeping you close, she looked around the kitchen to see the ingredients for her favorite dish strewn around. She raised a silent eyebrow, gesturing with her head to the rest of the kitchen.

"I thought it would cheer you up." You grinned, pulling her back towards the barstools to take a seat.

Natasha ignored the chairs; instead, she slid into your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck. She treasured in your reaction, the way your jaw slacked open, and your raised eyebrows. She chuckled, leaning forwards and kissing the top of your hair.

Warmth emanated from her; your arm slid around her waist to keep her upright. Somehow, even after almost a year of being with her, she still made you nervous. Natasha was well aware of the effect she still had on you, taking advantage of it whenever she could. Moments like these caused her to remember just how far she had fallen for you.

You cleared your throat, trying to rid yourself of your flustered expression, and pulled the recipe book towards yourself. Not trusting your voice to come out right, you pointed to the recipe you used. Your girlfriend ignored it, not even glancing towards the recipe, instead leaning towards your lips.

"Cheering me up now," Natasha whispered, her breath fanning over your face. Her lips turned up into a smile when she heard you gulp beneath her.

The smile remained on her face as she met her lips to yours. Her lips were dry and a little chapped, but they were still so soft as you kissed her. Her hands wound around your neck, playing with the baby hair there, feeling the rise in response to her. Your hands tightened around her waist, letting yourself get lost in her.

Natasha pulled away slowly, panting as she rested her forehead against yours. Her eyelashes fluttered against yours, breath hitting your face. A hidden smile crossed your face, leaning forward to meet her lips in another soft peck.

She chased your lips, leaning forwards, but you pulled away. The redhead pulled away, pouting at the lack of attention. You chuckled, shaking your head at the deadly Black Widow pouting in your lap. Seeing her so open and soft around you made your heart soar, keeping this moment closer to yourself.

"Shower first," You spoke, wanting to continue but finding it hard to when she continued pouting at you.

She looked down at herself, sighing when she saw the need to go shower. You knew she would, but for now, she kept pouting at you for more attention. Indulging in her requests, you met your lips to hers again, feeling her smile underneath you.

These kinds of requests, you'd always oblige in.

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Natasha walked into the kitchen again, a towel tousling her wet hair as she watched you in the kitchen. She sat herself on the barstool, a smirk crossing her lips when you didn't even seem to notice her presence behind you. You were far too absorbed in getting the dish onto some plates.

It sometimes worried her how oblivious you were to everything around you. But now, watching you prepare dinner for her, was not a time to be worried. She cleared her throat, watching you jump in surprise and turn around towards her, the plate of stroganoff still in your hands.

"Beef stroganoff?" She raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. She pretended she didn't know what you'd been making based solely on the smell and the ingredients. Humoring your efforts got her the reaction she wanted. The adorable smile as you set your creation in front of her.

Natasha chuckled, the smell filling her nostrils and calming her as she beckoned you over to her. You took your plate, setting it down in the seat next to hers. A squeal left your lips when Natasha abruptly pulled you into her, keeping you close.

"Thank you," She murmured into your shoulder. You smiled, your hands reaching up to rub her back comfortingly.

You knew she wasn't used to having someone take care of her. It had surprised her when you'd stayed up a little late to welcome her back from a mission for the first time. Making her dinner and spoiling her was a change, but one you hoped she could adjust to.

Natasha pulled away, only to pepper your face in small kisses. You laughed as her lips tickled your face, squirming in her hold. Your hands pushed her and pulled her closer at the same time, treasuring in the attention. The beef stroganoff remained on the side as she turned all of her attention on you.

Everything about you was so perfect to her; sometimes she found it hard to believe that you were hers. Maybe it would take her years to get used to your love. So be it if she got to enjoy moments like these for the rest of her life.

A/N: Tell me what you think!!! Comments and reblogs are amazing!! And tell me if you wanna be tagged for the angst coming up

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart , @summergeezburr , @imnotasuperhero , @a-stressedstudent , @aaron-despair , @rooskaya-yelena , @dynnealberto , @thewitchandtheassassin , @wannabe-fic-reader , @izalesbean, @higherfurther-romanova , @natalia-quinzel , @blackxwidowsxwife let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

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cheesybadgers · 3 years

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 8)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 5,455

Summary: Set loosely during Our Man in Madrid (although without spoiling anything, there is some significant canon divergence), Javier and Horacio are plunged back into the harsh reality of war after their reunion and are forced to confront some conflicts of their own.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Canon-typical violence (please bear in mind which ep this chapter partially covers), PTSD symptoms (mostly flashbacks), some religious symbolism, angst (with a side order of fluff though!), smoking, swearing, a handful of vague sexual references but no smut.

Notes: I can’t believe a certain scene is finally done after having it in my head for months (and you may have noticed I laid some of the groundwork for it back in chapter 3, mwaha), phew! Oh and the chapter is named after On The Floor by Brandon Flowers, because the lyrics are kinda on point.

I’ve got a large chunk of chapter 9 already drafted, although life is probably going to be a bit busier over the next couple of months, but I’ll do my best to get as much written as possible. This fic *will* get finished eventually, damnit, if it’s the last thing I do 😂 Thanks to anyone still reading and please feel free to comment/chat about any of it on Tumblr/AO3 ❤️

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 8: On The Floor

Javier’s crumpled sheets lay strewn in a forgotten heap at the foot of the bed, apparently no match for clammy, tangled limbs. A worthy sacrifice that allowed him to rest against Horacio’s torso and entwine their fingers. Javier’s free hand brought a cigarette to his lips as Horacio’s traced in and out of the flares of sunlight that illuminated his form in all the right places. They had passed at least half the day like this already, although it didn’t matter when they had nowhere to be.

It wasn’t rare for them to sit in comfortable silence, but Javier could practically hear the cogs turning inside Horacio’s head. He sensed a shift in his mood earlier that morning after the initial high of their reunion had simmered down. After the real reason for his return had sunk in.

Knowing better than to offer false reassurances, Javier held his cigarette aloft. The mattress shifted as Horacio took a deep inhale, but no immediate exhale followed. Instead, calloused fingers tilted Javier’s jaw upwards. A cloud of vapour blew directly into his mouth as they shared an indulgent kiss as addictive as their nicotine habit.

“Shower with me,” Horacio rasped when they pulled apart. Few sentences could have persuaded Javier to move, but that was one of them.

At first, it was all slick hands, flushed skin pressed against cold tiles and shallow breaths amplified by glass walls. Fingernails dimpled hip bones whilst eager tongues chased water droplets, drawing gasps and shivers with each one caught. Too much, yet still not enough to satisfy their insatiable need for one another. It was an itch they couldn’t scratch, each attempt stoking the flames further. A palpable tension no doubt exacerbated by the return to war looming on the horizon.

Once they had recuperated, Horacio washed the soap from Javier’s spent body, his movements thorough and unhurried. Mellow, restorative touches contrasted against the roughness he was capable of in the heat of the moment, as hands caressed limbs and took extra care over the areas he had marked. One act followed the other as easily as night followed day; just another in a long line of contradictions where Horacio was concerned.

Javier had been physically intimate with his fair share of people over the years, but never like this. Except for the previous night, of course. What they were doing now was very similar and still had the power to overwhelm him. His instinct was to recoil, but another part of him yelled the opposite. A part of him that was gradually becoming easier to listen to. A part of him that was now urging him to stay, to lean into it, to let go.

He waited until Horacio faced the shower faucet, head tilted back and eyes closed as he rinsed the last remnants of sex and sweat from his hair. Javier released his arms from Horacio’s waist and reached for his shampoo bottle, squeezing a generous amount into his palm.

He lifted his tentative hands to Horacio’s head and carded his fingers through his hair. “Let me take care of you,” Javier murmured as he grazed his moustache along Horacio’s shoulders.

Horacio stilled for a moment, deliberating whether to give in or not. It dawned on him the last time they’d done this – or at least something much like it – was after Diana Turbay. Heaviness swelled in his chest as the sudden intrusive thoughts mingled with memories of dissolving into Javier’s lap. Not that he’d forgotten; he never allowed himself to. If he dwelled too long, he could still taste the gunshot residue in the air and smell the musty damp of the building they’d stormed. A nauseating scent that had clung to his uniform even once laundered.

He glanced at his right hand as the spray cascaded over his trigger finger. The harder he stared, the stronger his belief the water had turned to a flowing river of crimson. Who knew how much more blood would be shed? And how much would be on his hands? His breathing quickened as he scrunched his eyes shut and shook his head in an attempt to quieten his mind.

“Hey, you still with me?” Javier nuzzled into the crook of Horacio’s neck. He didn’t know exactly where he’d gone but could hazard a guess.

Horacio came to as Javier’s placid tones drifted into his ear. “Er…yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just relax. I’ve got you.” Javier’s hushed words were delicate and gentle as if he was trying to coax a frightened animal to safety and, to some extent, he was.

Horacio grunted and lolled his head back to meet Javier’s hands as they built up a lather. They massaged across his scalp in rhythmic circles, the soft yet firm pressure chipping away at the layers of apprehension. Hands Horacio had come to realise would always be there to catch him when he fell, something he was still getting used to. Not from a lack of trust but from the years of conditioning where resilience and control were necessary for survival.

The rising steam enveloped them in a protective cocoon from the outside world. For now, all Horacio knew was Javier’s soothing ministrations, along with the calming notes of eucalyptus and cedarwood. He recognised the fragrance from his pillows, from his clothes and from the countless times he’d buried himself in Javier’s hair. Heady, grounding, home.

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Sunday began much like the previous morning, slow and languorous as they lost themselves in each other again. But this time, Horacio had a flight to catch and an apartment in Medellín to move back into, so he was up and dressed before Javier.

“You sure I can’t drive you to the airport?”

“You know we can’t risk it. Plus, you look far too comfortable as you are.” Horacio smiled as he admired the view of Javier stretched across the bed on his stomach with his arms wrapped around a pillow. His upper back and broad shoulders peeked out over the top of the sheets like a delectable treat Horacio was having trouble resisting.

He settled for sitting on the edge of the mattress and allowing his fingers to trail across the warmth of Javier’s pliant body.

Javier all but purred and leaned into Horacio’s touch. “Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he mumbled into his pillow.

“You’re far too tempting. And actually, I’ve still got 20 minutes.” His mouth was already working its way down Javier’s neck when they heard a muffled knock at the door.

They both froze and silenced immediately. “Shit! Wait here, I’ll get rid of whoever the fuck that is.” Javier heaved a sigh as he got out of bed, tugging on his jeans with the cigarette he’d picked up from the nightstand perched between his lips.

As he walked from the bedroom to the front door, he cursed under his breath at being denied what he imagined was about to be a very pleasurable 20 minutes. He looked through the peephole to identify the culprit; it was Steve. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Steve? What the—? I thought you were in Medellín this weekend?”

“Good mornin’ to you too, Javi.” Steve mock-saluted at his partner’s less than friendly welcome. “I figured I’d left it late enough for your friend to leave,” he continued with a wink and peered past Javier on the off-chance someone was in view.

Javier inhaled on his cigarette, stalling for time as he tried to think of any incriminating evidence on display behind him. Fortunately, Horacio’s luggage was out of sight. And his need for tidiness meant he’d scooped up every item of clothing from the floor on Friday night. “My…friend?” Playing dumb was about his only line of defence by this point.

“Yeah, I hate to break it to you, but the walls are paper-thin in this place. I was gonna stop by when I got back yesterday but noticed – against my will, I should add – you were otherwise engaged. A lot.” The glee on Steve’s face as he teased his partner couldn’t have been further from Javier’s rabbit-in-the-headlights expression as he scrambled to disguise the panic that had set in.

“Seriously, Steve, what do you want?” Javier was wrong; playing dumb and grouchy deflection were his two lines of defence.

“Connie called after you left on Friday.”

“Is she okay? And Olivia?”

“Oh yeah, yeah. They’re both fine. She wanted to talk things through and I didn’t want half the CNP and fuck knows who else listening in. Not to mention, those bunks weren’t designed for people of my height. So, I thought I’d come back here and catch whichever flight you’re on tomorrow.”

“Right, of course, makes sense. Did it go okay with Connie?”

“Yeah, yeah it did.” Steve couldn’t hide his smile as he spoke. “She’s agreed to come back. Connie’s sister’s looking after Olivia, so I dunno how long she’ll be able to stay, but it’s a start.”

“That’s great news, Steve.” As frustrating as this unexpected visit was, Javier couldn’t deny how pleased he was for them. He hated seeing Steve in such a mess and he’d missed Connie too.

“Thanks, man. Things just haven’t been right since she left.”

Javier tried to ignore the ache at having to keep his equivalent of Connie hidden away in his bedroom, like some sort of dirty secret. It was how he’d always operated when it came to other men. Not that he’d ever had anything comparable to this with another man before, or with anyone. It was another reason he was grateful for Connie’s return. Someone who didn’t judge and who he didn’t have to lie to. Although, this had been their closest call so far and it was hard not to wonder how much longer they could remain under Steve’s radar.

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Horacio returned to Carlos Holguín on Monday, after spending the rest of Sunday unpacking and settling back into his apartment. The school remained unchanged in so many ways yet different in others. There were a lot of faces he didn’t recall, along with the heavy absence of too many he did. Trujillo welcomed him with a firm embrace that knocked him backwards with its force. Trujillo had soon regaled him with every detail from the last year, but Horacio didn’t mind. It felt good to be back with his men again.

Being reacquainted with the DEA, however, was something of a farce. He could barely contain his smirk when he took Javier’s palm in a bracing handshake, fingers catching on his pulse point. Horacio lightly pressed into the tender skin at his wrist, where he knew there would still be faint traces of their weekend escapades. He detected the minutest flinch in Javier’s grip as they greeted each other like the long-lost colleagues they were supposed to be.

A brief flash of mischief crossed Javier’s pupils as his hand reached up to pat Horacio’s arm, much like it had done in Tolú. One light slap followed with another as they exchanged pleasantries before the touch morphed into a prominent squeeze around Horacio’s bicep.

Horacio gulped and gave him a pointed look as he moved on to shake Murphy’s hand. Despite his best efforts, his mind raced with flashbacks; not least of all one involving the man in front of him almost catching them in the act 24 hours ago.

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Whilst Horacio was now housed in a different wing of the school, it was easy to forget how long he’d been away. Putting on his uniform that morning was like wearing a second skin, even when part of him wished it hadn’t been so easy. He sat behind his new desk, already surrounded by stacks of paperwork and manila files. Some things never changed. His new workspace wasn’t quite as grand as the Consulate, but he didn’t expect to spend as much time in it as he had in Madrid.

The tranquillity of the last year already seemed like a distant, idyllic dream. He wasn’t ready to let go of it, but he also had to remember why he was here. His country and his President were counting on him like never before. But then, so was the man he loved. An extradition-supporting-yet-bureaucracy-hating DEA agent of all people. He could have laughed at the irony of it if the stakes weren’t so high.

The sound of the door opening and closing drew his eyes up from a batch of authorisation forms awaiting his signature. Perhaps said DEA agent’s ears were burning.

“Thought you could do with this before the meeting.” Javier carried two steaming mugs of coffee across the room. He passed one to Horacio as he stood up from his desk, their fingers brushing together in the process. Much like their earlier handshake, it was an innocent gesture on the face of it, but with a hidden salacious edge that sent shockwaves through them both.

“Thanks,” Horacio replied as he reached for the cup. He would take any caffeine he could get his hands on right now.

They’d passed the point at which it was customary for one of them to let go of the mug. Instead, their fingers danced over each other’s; probing and teasing in a silent and secret flirtation that pushed the boundaries, given Steve’s and Trujillo’s imminent arrival. They couldn’t help themselves, though.

They heard voices approaching the door and broke apart, all but knocking the coffee out of their hands but recovering in time as Steve and Trujillo entered the room. Javier caught the tail end of an eye roll from Steve as he made a point of sipping from the drink he was forced to make himself. Shit.

Once the door was shut, they got straight down to business and discussing tactics. Gaviria had offered the CNP all available resources, but Horacio had no intention of following in Pinzón’s footsteps.

“No more large-scale operations. Search Bloc goes back to small-scale tactics.”

“Amen,” Javier replied as soon as Horacio had finished speaking. It distracted Horacio for a fraction of a second before he continued, both men unaware of the flicker of bemusement that passed between Trujillo and Steve.

“Stealth operations, surprise raids, that sort of thing. We change the game. But first, we let Pablo know we’re back.”

With that, a convoy of trucks set off through the streets of Medellín. It wouldn’t be long before news of Horacio’s return made its way back to Escobar. It was a risky strategy when it blew the element of surprise out of the water, but Horacio couldn’t help himself with everything Escobar had done in his absence. Too many colleagues and friends needlessly gunned down with no consequence. Something had to be done. He knew he got under Pablo’s skin, so in his mind, it was worth it. Especially imagining the look on his face when he discovered Horacio had decorated his mural in Barrio Pablo Escobar. A cheap shot, quite literally, but if that didn’t get his attention, nothing would.

There was method in Horacio’s madness, as it had the desired effect of drawing Escobar’s spotters out of the woodwork. With the assistance of Centra Spike and the DEA, their intel captured six radio transmissions. The trouble was, they didn’t have the exact locations of the transmissions.

“Our best bet is to corner each of these buildings,” Steve referred to the maps laid out on the table in front of them. “This time, we hit the ground.”

Horacio considered Murphy’s suggestion for a moment, unable to disagree with his logic for a change. “Trujillo, load up six unmarked cars, four men per car. Instruct them to leave in 20-minute intervals to avoid attention. Clear?”

“Yes, Colonel,” Trujillo confirmed before he left the room to set their plan in motion.

“Peña, you’re with me. Murphy, Jacoby, you stay here and guide us.” The words left Horacio’s mouth before he’d considered the implications of them. It was second nature to have Javier by his side after so long apart. It was selfish, but he didn’t want to be without him if he didn’t have to be.

Apart from Horacio’s procession through Medellín, the two of them had been inseparable all day. Whether catching stolen moments on their breaks in a disused classroom with the door wedged shut, or gravitating towards each other in every meeting they found themselves in, they were always in each other’s periphery and personal space. Far enough apart so as not to raise questions, but the proximity still grounded them.

Javier, on the other hand, could already feel Steve shooting daggers at him. The look was more for Horacio’s benefit than his, even if he didn’t dare aim it at his intended target. This plan, after all, was Steve’s idea.

“Careful out there, partner,” Steve mumbled under his breath as Javier followed Horacio out of the room. The heat of Steve’s scowl blazed into the back of Javier’s head as he walked away. Shit. No way was that going to be the end of it. They had entered into the territory of suspicious behaviour and Steve would want to know why he wasn’t included.

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Javier hung back whilst Search Bloc changed into their civilian clothes. He ducked inside the door to the locker room before it swung shut behind the last group of men to leave. Horacio was the only one left.

“What the hell was that back there?”

Horacio pulled his grey polo shirt over his head, not bothering to turn around at the interruption. “What are you talking about?”

“Steve?”

“This is a covert op; I’m bringing the exact number of men we need. It’s nothing personal.”

He realised that was at least a half-truth these days. Murphy had raised his shackles in the past when it came to Javier, before Tolú at least. Now, it was Murphy’s lazy attempts to learn much in the way of Spanish several years down the line and his general contrariness whenever they crossed paths. However, his intention wasn’t to spite Murphy (much). If truth be told, Steve hadn’t factored in Horacio’s decision at all, as all he could see and think about was Javier, even if he wasn’t fully aware of it.

“I don’t think Steve will see it that way,” Javier scoffed.

“You expect me to make tactical decisions based on not upsetting your partner?” Horacio shook his head and rolled his eyes, still facing away from Javier as he folded the fatigues he’d swapped for a pair of khakis.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“He’s not stupid, Horacio. He nearly caught us yesterday for fuck’s sake! If you keep showing me preferential treatment, he’s gonna start asking questions. Trust me.”

“I do trust you.” A mild offence crept into Horacio’s tone at even a frivolous doubting of that sentiment. “But he didn’t see or hear anything yesterday that could implicate me, so let him ask all he wants.”

“And that’s a risk you’re willing to take, is it?” Javier didn’t know why, but he’d never mentioned Connie to Horacio and now wasn’t the ideal time to, either. She had kept her silence and of course, Javier trusted her, but her imminent return alongside Steve’s raised suspicions made him jittery nonetheless.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Javier. Don’t you think we’ve got bigger fucking things to worry about right now?” As if to further emphasise his point, he stashed his uniform in the locker in front of him and attached his gun holster to his trousers.

“Yeah, well I could say the same about those.”

Horacio finally stilled then pivoted, his eyes landing on Javier’s. “Meaning?”

Javier dropped his gaze to the floor and bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Forget it.”

“No, go on.” Horacio took a step closer. His voice kept as low and steady as ever, but the challenge was clear in the fierce glare Javier could feel radiating into his skull despite not meeting it.

Javier sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting his choice of words, but knowing Horacio wouldn’t let it go now. “Your little stunt with Escobar’s mural for starters.”

“It got us the intel we needed, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but,” Javier paused and ran his thumb along his top lip as he contemplated his next sentence. “Don’t you think it could be seen by some as a bit…reckless?”

“Reckless?” Horacio’s eyebrows raised before he nodded with a sarcastic pout. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I should be more careful what I say in future as well. Especially to those running scared of their own feelings.” Shit. He didn’t know where the fuck that had come from.

Javier let out a wry laugh and shook his head, somehow taken aback but also unsurprised by the gut punch that blow had landed him. “You want me to say it back just to make you feel better? Like it magically makes up for your apparent death wish and all of this?” He gestured around the room in place of anything else to better represent the status quo.

The damage done by their words was evident in both men’s eyes as their argument shifted into something else entirely. Something raw and visceral, where repressed feelings didn’t so much as bubble to the surface, but rather violently explode. Where the ability to wound was almost too efficient. An advantage when out in the field, but not when it came to each other.

“No, I want you to say it because you mean it, Javier.” His curt words hung between them, suspended in a vacuum until Horacio continued like the last few minutes hadn’t happened. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job to do. You coming or not?” He’d gone too far but wasn’t in a position to deal with it whilst there was work to be done. So, instead, he adjusted the collar of the beige jacket he’d tugged over his shoulders and headed out of the door to reconvene with his men.

Javier stood speechless in the locker room for a long moment. Once again, he had no choice but to follow, although this time he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

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

A modest fleet of vehicles travelled under the cover of darkness, as per Horacio’s orders. He and Javier were in separate teams, giving them much-needed distance after striking each other with uncomfortable truths they hadn’t meant to lay bare. As they approached their assigned locations, they had no choice but to put it all on hold, as their focus shifted to the task at hand.

The night air was brisk despite the lack of breeze. It was the kind of weather that was deceptive in its stillness. The kind where there was a threat of an incoming storm, but it could change course at the last minute. The kind where even those who thought they had prepared for all eventualities could be caught off guard.

Javier was glad he’d opted to wear his leather jacket before leaving base. He sat in the back seat of his team’s vehicle; one hand poised on the door handle, whilst the other clutched his cigarette. The steady hit of nicotine just about numbed whatever the fuck he felt in the aftermath of the last few days. And yet he stubbed it out with relief when there was movement on the street at long last.

He watched and waited as the spotter closed up the motorcycle garage he’d had his eye on for the last hour. The teenage boy had nearly gotten away as he pulled the shutter down, but Javier’s reflexes were quicker. He swooped in and grabbed the bottom of the door before it could close. He yanked it back up again and came face to face with their target, who was now surrounded with no way out.

A few streets away, Horacio’s team knocked on doors but received nothing but a wall of silence. Either no one knew anything or they weren’t prepared to talk if they did. He suspected the latter. It may have been a while since he’d done this, but some things remained a constant. Eventually, he gave chase to a young boy of about six or seven, who he caught by chance when questioning the boy’s mother on the doorstep. Horacio followed him up to the rooftops, where his team uncovered a stash of radios. Success.

Javier’s team were the last to arrive at the agreed meeting point, a secluded alley concealed by trees and high walls. They were shrouded in inky-graphite except for the hazy bulbs of their vehicles and a pale, spectral glow between the increasingly turbulent clouds.

Javier had become astute at reading others; whether it be their subtle eye movements, habitual ticks, or the intonation of their voice. People often betrayed their feelings or motivations without him having to push. He’d always had a natural aptitude for it, but he had honed his skills in Colombia, especially when dealing with informants.

For a long time, Horacio was a closed book to Javier; a robust, impenetrable wall of stoicism. There were still instances that threw him, but generally speaking, he had a good read on him these days. However, there was something dangerous and volatile in the air as Javier observed from a distance whilst Horacio lined up the spotters. Spotter was no longer the right word, either. It occurred to him when he apprehended the teenage boy; these were children. Using any other language was a convenient way to distance themselves from the reality of the situation and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Horacio prowled down the line of children, who were on their knees with their hands resting behind their heads. His silhouette stalked wolf-like along the wall behind them with each movement, like a bad omen lying in wait. “Do you know who I am? My name is Colonel Horacio Carrillo. Last week, 30 police officers were murdered.”

“Those pigs probably deserved it.” One of the older teen boys was brave – or stupid – enough to engage. It wasn’t just the fact he’d mouthed off, but also the words he’d chosen. The notion that so many good men in any way deserved their barbaric deaths was an insult of the highest order to Horacio.

“Shut up, kid,” Javier murmured under his breath. A cowardly plea, seeing as it had gone unheard and unnoticed.

The atmosphere in the alley dangled precariously on a knife-edge, hinging on the slightest movement or utterance. It vibrated and buzzed through Javier from head to toe, like a live wire in jeopardy of short-circuiting at any moment.

“Many of those pigs were my friends.” Horacio’s voice was quiet and measured but not lacking in venom.

Javier had witnessed it many times before. A fact that was still difficult to reconcile when comparing this version of Horacio to the one in his bed and shower. He’d seen grown men crumble and whimper and beg when on the receiving end of this version. It was often the last voice they heard before they were put out of their misery. Because it wasn’t the gun or the blade at their jugular that was the most terrifying part of the ordeal; it was the ruthless tone of the man wielding them. But one jarring difference stood between then and now: these weren’t grown men.

“Those perched on rooftops, guiding murderers with radios are assassins themselves. I hope after this encounter, you’ll reconsider working for someone who thinks he’s above the law.” The ominous sound of Horacio cocking his pistol echoed around the claustrophobic confines of the alley.

A deathly silence followed, broken by more ill-judged bravado from the boy.

Horacio had only planned on scaring them. Perhaps bringing them in for questioning and a night in the cells at the most. But now, palpitations pounded through him; from the adrenaline or rage or grief or guilt, he wasn’t sure any longer.

All he could see was red. Blood red. An endless deluge congealing in front of his eyes and under his skin. He could feel his own surging through his body with each deafening thud of his pulse, knowing how easily it could be stopped in its tracks. Knowing how fine the line between life and death was and how many had fallen on the wrong side of it. All because of one man. One man hellbent on making Colombia bleed. And oh, how he’d succeeded. Not just by inflicting the wounds himself but by threatening and coercing and driving others into doing it for him. Pushing people to the brink and beyond until their bloodlust rivalled his own. Now, they were all drowning in it with no way to stem the flow.

He opened his eyes to find his gun raised to the boy’s head. His wrist was stable, but his trigger finger twitched and stalled as he struggled with the ringing in his ears that forced his eyes shut to abate the pain. As his lids closed, he was back in Tolú. Half-conscious on the ground, blood streaming down his face. That was why he recognised the ringing, now joined by gunfire. Not in the present, but it was his weapon. Gunshot residue and the stench of damp suffocated his senses. But then he was sat in a pew, or was he knelt on the floor? Rosary beads clenched between his fingers, and a cross seared into his chest, heart and soul. No, not a cross. His cross. Their cross.

A distant but familiar voice reached from somewhere in the back of his mind. A voice that escalated in urgency and insistence the longer he stood with the boy’s life in his right hand. A voice that had always been with him, despite the fact he didn’t trust it as much as he wanted to. It swirled in his head until the words crystalised and replaced the white noise consuming his ears. Except you didn’t shoot him. Because you made a choice, Javier.

He came to with a sharp inhale and his gaze fell on the boy; in particular, the wooden crucifix at his neck. Fear reflected in the whites of his eyes and filled Horacio with pity and revulsion. As if hit with a moment of clarity, he elevated his gun above the boy’s head and fired several times at the concrete wall behind him.

The boy flinched and covered his ears with his hands, but at least he was alive.

“Tell your friends if you continue to work for Pablo Escobar and I catch any of you on the rooftops, next time I won’t miss. You can leave.” Nobody moved a muscle until he bellowed “Leave!” in a tone that even made Javier jump. The children scattered without another word.

Horacio stood stock still, breathing hard and staring at the bullet holes in the wall. Streaks of moonlight illuminated his features and brought into focus the glassy sheen that had settled across his pupils. A light tap on his shoulder startled him out of his daze.

“Colonel, are you alright?”

“Yes…I’m fine, thank you, Trujillo. You can head back to the cars with the others. I’ll join you shortly.”

“If you’re sure, Colonel?”

Horacio was already facing Javier in the shadows. “I’m sure,” he confirmed, although his eyes remained fixed on Javier’s for several seconds before he turned back around. “Honestly, you can go. Thank you.”

“No problem, Colonel.” Trujillo’s narrowed eyes darted multiple times between the two men until he had no choice but to make his exit.

Once they were alone, Horacio approached Javier, who still hadn’t moved or spoken. His arms hung rigid by his sides, his fingers on his right hand twitching whilst his jaw ground back and forth. His eyes bore the same watery glaze as Horacio’s.

“Are you okay?” Horacio asked, surprised at how strained his words came out as they caught in his throat like dense ash.

“What do you fucking think?” Javier scoffed.

“Look, I—”

“Can we not do this now?” Javier pleaded as his hands cradled his hips and his eyes descended to the ground. “I, er, think I just need some space.”

“Okay, sure. Whatever you need.” A stony silence permeated the oppressive air between them, both men already too battle-weary for another fight. “I – I’m sorry, though. For putting you through that.”

“You always are.” There was no vitriol in Javier’s words, only resigned acceptance that stung Horacio harder than if he’d screamed in his face.

He watched Javier retreat into the night with almost as much haste as the children, leaving him to carry his discharged gun and the ever-present crushing weight of remorse.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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sandundersun · 3 years

Text

Everyone has a Downside, He isn't Excused

vernon x reader || romance || 1.3K words

warning: mention of blood

tbh this is not really romance, it’s a short description of hansol’s life

He was probably the weirdest and the toughest man you passed by in life.

He wasn't afraid of any extreme entertainment; haunted house ride, skydiving, any kind of spice, putting water in extremely hot oil, walking as if he owned the hall when he was ten minutes late to class. He gave a little to no fuck about challenges in life. If his parent put him in a sports club on his younger day and he chose to be a long jump athlete, he probably would be good; or you could send him as a shepherd with no internet connection for two months and he would come back with no scratch; it was some strong kind of endurance partnered with adaptivity, or witchcraft.

So, maybe, maybe that's why God gave him a little downside—that could kill him in a colossal amount but on a usual day it was only mildly annoying.

The boy was allergic to mundane things you stumbled upon in everyday life. He was hardly enjoying springtime when the grass became less green and more colorful, as flowers blossom here and there, because the pollen made his eyes itchy; he couldn't eat peanuts, where it came in so many delicious snacks and foods; he loved cat to death, he probably would have a dozen if it wasn't for his busy life, but he was kinda allergic to them. It was comedy.

Plus, this stupid reckless boy, who was brave enough to punch someone in the face for messing up with his sister or friend, constantly had a wound on his lips; not because of chapped lips and sun combo, nor because of the fighting he had once in a while. This boy just felt like, eh, it's a good day to bite my lips until there was blood on it, and he needed to put an ointment, stay calm for a while and, oh hello another good day; a fridging vicious and addictive cycle.

Though—at first—you didn't understand in the littlest bit of why it became a "cycle".

"It's a reflex," he said. "I don't know, I just bite it when I find something cringe or funnily dangerous."

Except, anything his peer group said or did was cringe or funnily dangerous; from talking with a lovey-dovey tone in public like a romance classic novel to coloring someone's eyebrows with red chili paste—his mates was, suffice to say, insane.

The first time his lips got sore after you dated him, he sent you a chat with a crying emoji and an "aw" , followed by a picture of a drop of blood—as a proof because he was like some kind of an indestructible god until now. It was alarming. You saw blood, meaning pain, and you hurriedly jumped out of your bed, going to a store, and knocking on his door.

The sight in front of you was not what you foresaw.

Well, there was someone who was tired and in—a bit of—pain, and the other was the happy healthy one, but he was the fine one. Standing while hugging his orange cat Leo, with a small scar, yet super red; a little lost.

"Oh, hi!" He welcomed you and ushered you to sit on the couch. "I didn't know you'd come."

"Well, I brought you a compress for the scar," you said, "you sent me a pic and I thought it was painful?"

"Yeah, for five seconds, it's fine by now."

That was one of the oddest and funniest excuses you heard in a whole year, and just like that, your effort went to waste—in your defense though, that was also the first time he sent you a crying emoji.

You sighed out loud, meanwhile, in a flash, he gave you a kiss and a hug and the damn cat was trying to keep it civil with you.

"Thank you for the ointment, by the way. I'll keep it for the next one."

"The next?"

"I get this once in a while."

Glad you bought two because once in a while meant 24/7/365.

Dear God, sometimes you wondered, why were you worried for a man that should barely survive the world, but was actually thriving in life? Seriously, if someone hated him, they could just lock him in a greenhouse or sneak up peanut on his meal, and get done—well, he was an awesome person, so perhaps no one disliked him that much, but—you believed some super force magic must be circling around Hansol.

You should just stay put and enjoy the day—like him.

It wasn't easy.

It took time for you to not get panicked every time his lips bled. For the first fifth time, you bought him a new ointment and compressor; by the eleventh, you tried to breathe and mumbled it's fine, it's just a scratch. It was annoying for you too though, worrying for a grown-up man who made biting lips his habit. But after the twentieth, you had let it go. For someone as pretty and as magnificent as him, this one addiction simply served as a reminder that no one is perfect except God.

Well, another downside, you could go with no kissing for days, sometimes a full week if his scar kept reopening.

Not that it mattered that much though.

You can still kiss him on his eyes and nose and cheeks, and he would press his lips in return, on your knuckles and arms and stomach—though not as strong as you. And his love surging through his hands on your arms, whisper in your ear, and everything in him that was all around you.

Anyway, the third time it happened, you slept in his apartment. It was half-healed at the time you arrived and instantly got better.

His olive-colored sofa was soft and fluffy and comfortable, you probably had been there for almost three hours, devouring the melancholic novel in front of you, with five minutes breaks two or three times to get another drink or go to the bathroom. The sun was barely seen on the west when he snuggled up on you, made you—forcefully—put down your book and wrapped your hands around him instead.

"What?"

"Nothing." He buried his head deeper on your chest, voice muffled. "I just miss you."

"I've been sleeping in this apartment for two days," you ruffled his dark brown hair, "what kind of missing?"

He sat up and let out a witty smile, then he brushed your lips with his. "Missing to kiss you."

You laughed at the rare sight of him being so soft and spoiled. Your fingers voyaged to his jaws, thumbs softly brushing the corner of his lips. The rashes weren't as bad as the first time, it had become flat and the color faded into soft pink.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"Yep." And he leaned closer to give you another light peck.

"You said it hurts?"

Then another kiss, not quite a peck right now "It does, very faintly."

You pulled yourself and gave a look what are you doing. "Hansol ..."

"Oh, come on. The bit of pain dawns on me after I kiss you, I can't feel it when your lips are on mine. So maybe,"—two kisses, short and sweet—"maybe we can kiss all night long so I don't taste the pain."

And he was gone for the long endless kiss before you could deny any of it. Left hands wrapped your neck, fingers crawling on your back, chest going against each other. You wanted to let go yet wanted his desire too, and in the end, you succumbed.

Well, maybe the aftermath of his habit wasn't that bad.

note: this was supposed to be a short writing under 500 words after my friends talked about Hansol’s constant wounded lips, I thought it was from his allergy, but people said it’s his habit of biting lips lmao. So, I just kept typing and typing describing him and a bit of seventeen dynamic (ofc edited a bit), and end up with 1.3K rambling and a little romance

#caratwritersclub #vernon #hansol vernon chwe #vernon chwe #vernon x reader #vernon scenario #vernon imagine #vernon fic #vernon drabble #vernon fluff #mine:svt #mine:writing

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crvluz · 3 years

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✰𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 || 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 ✰

𝟏𝟖+!! 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧, 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.. 𝐓𝐖: 𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐬, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

Dating a criminal meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some dead cops. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss' bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you'd prefer not to know about. And while you weren't necessarily okay with a lot of what Jean did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn't scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Jean could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn't care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he's found something to tether him to this existence.

Maybe he didn't use those words exactly, but he doesn't have to. You know that's what he means when he spoils you with expensive clothes and jewelry, when he offers to kill any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any "normal couple" experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine's Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Jean had been gone for close to a month now and you didn't expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don't jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of the Creed Aventus cologne, gunpowder and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Jean's scent and you've missed it. You've missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

"Welcome home." You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn't matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his light hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. "Sit up, darling. I got a surprise for you."

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he's really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Jean expectantly. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It's so cliché you can't help but let out a small snort. "What is it?"

"It's a gift. You know... for Valentine's Day?" He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn't your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn't want him to be.

"Well now I feel awful. I didn't get you anything." You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

"It's like a toy... so it's technically for you, but kind of for both of us." It's unusual to see Jean this excited. Eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

"Like a sex toy?" A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

"Are we playing fucking 20 questions? Just open it." He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don't comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn't falter. You've never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It's definitely the real deal.

"Jean, this isn't a toy." You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says "Princess, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?"

"O-okay? What do you want to do with it?" You ask, placing the offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

"Ever heard of Russian Roulette?" Jean, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Jean is quick to pull you back.

"It's really easy, darling. No need to look so scared." He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. "6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens."

The look on his face is positively demented. Sage eyes wide and bright, his face contorted into a sinister smile, white teeth and the silver tongue piercing gleaming in the dim light.

"Baby," you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. "I don't know about thi-"

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you're unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

"You see now darling?" He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. "You've gone and wasted a shot."

Jean climbs off of you and you're left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

"You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?" Jean prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes begin to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Jean has in store for you.

"Good. Now strip." He commanded and like a good girl, you obeyed.

Your arms feel like they're made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Jean's old ones). You can't stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can't be happening. It's Jean. He wouldn't hurt you. He promised you that.

"Oh cut the fucking waterworks." He snaps. "As long as you listen, you'll be fine."

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he's leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. "Fair warning, I'm more of a 'shoot first, ask questions later' kind of guy. But you know that already." He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. "Now, touch yourself for me."

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it's like you can't get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of the gun in your boyfriend's hand, you still bring your own hand between your legs, but you can't concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Jean's standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You gasp again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

"Princess," Jean's gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you're very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. "You're ruining my surprise. Got it 'specially for you and now you're being a brat." He querched an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

"So-sorry.-" your voice breaks. "I'll be good."

You're still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it's a game. You can't help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend's villain behavior.

"Yeah?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Then show me." He challenges you. Jean slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that's doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for the best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, it's Jean's touch. In your mind's eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Jean on top, resting his forehead against yours. It's one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It's one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, leaving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he's perfect, that he's yours. Because it's one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It's not long before you're leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there's a voice chastising you for being so easy for him... even now. There's almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Jean's; they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

"Look at me." You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you're lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it's almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you've been living in this whole time. It's enough to make you forget the situation you're in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

"Fucking slut." He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it, the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

"All those fucking tears but look how wet you are." He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. "Tastes so good, princess." He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his light ash-brown hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue piercing before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your pussy, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he's eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren't for the metal digging into your flesh.

"Darling," He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. "I want you to squirt for me."

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You're not sure of the odds that you'd be able to right now and it's not a gamble you're willing to take. "Jean, I don't think I can...."

CLICK

You thrash, gasp so loud it makes your throat burn.

Jean still holds you open, keeping you in place. "I wasn't asking." He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes two of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It's unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand, the one he held the gun with up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what's at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You're consumed by desire as Jean brings you so close to the edge.

"D...Deeper please." You pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. "Right here?" His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

"Y...yeah." You're barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Jean keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can't hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Jean doesn't move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you're trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. "You made such a mess baby, but I'm glad you're finally having fun." He's just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn't let you recover. "Come on, princess. My turn." He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans.

You pull yourself onto all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

"You've been lucky so far." He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. "But I wouldn't test it if I were you. Open."

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Jean.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savoring the taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. "Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes." He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his dick, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging.

"So good to me princess." He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Jean is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You're already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don't dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that's hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn't give you much time before he's in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

"I love you so much. You love me?" He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try to utter a 'Yes, I love you.' but with his dick gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. "You'd do anything for me right?" He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Jean lose his composure bit by bit. "Yeah. That's why you're my girl." He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his hair and holding you there. "Fuck."

CLICK

"Mmmhhh" You squeal around him but you can't pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp.

"Wh- Why" You blubber, voice hoarse. You don't understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

"Sorry princess. Felt so good, my finger slipped." He doesn't even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there's no way you can win because Jean doesn't play fair.

He doesn't give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. "C'mon pretty princess." He tugs on your ankle. I want to see you bounce on my dick."

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn't need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don't want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It's something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it's working. Circumstances be damned. "I need to feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me baby." He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You're outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Jean's chest.

"What's the matter darling?"

I'm terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

"Oh, I know." He coos, voice dripping with condescension. "'I'm too big for your tiny cunny." He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. "But you can take it. I know you can." He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "You can do it for me"

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that's apparently not good enough for Jean and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You're trying.

"Quit being a baby and just take it." He says before you even get the chance.

"I'm trying Jean, please just-"

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He's not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his dick by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling onto your boyfriend's chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he's quite literally splitting you open.

"See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn't that right." He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. "But looks like you're all out of chances princess. Now bounce." He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Jean's brown eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

"Good girl." When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he's holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You're practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with "yes" and "more". All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It's confusing and you can't process any of it.

"Who owns this perfect pussy?"

"Jean. Fuck. Jean." Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

"That's right it's all fuckin mine. My pretty baby." Jean's eyes are focused on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, your brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

"Darling" He groans. "I feel you squeezing me. You gonna cum?"

He's right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Jean abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. "Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? I want you to baby." He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. "C'mon doll, please."

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn't let you catch your breath before he's got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. "Now make me cum." You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Jean gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he's not done with you yet.

"Hey." You're ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. "Don't pass out on me now."

"So-sorry! 'M sorry!" You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You're so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don't have a choice and you don't dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

"You can do better than that doll." He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. "It's like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling."

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you've been with Jean, you've learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can't remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Jean tsks at you, reminding you that you can't rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he's buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he's getting close, you're not sure how much more you can take.

"If I don't bust in the next 5 seconds." His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. "Bang!" He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

"Five." He grits out.

"Jean, please!" But you're met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

"Four." He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can't stop moving, not unless you want him to- "Please cum!" You beg. "Need your cum."

"Three."

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

"Wh-Why?!" is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

"Two." He ignores your question, transfixes on your tits bounce in his face. You're getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Jean is determined to get you there.

You still can't believe this is real. You never thought that Jean would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that's what he told you.

Moreover, you can't believe how your own body is betraying you. You can't believe you're actually going to cum. Again.

"One."

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it's out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK and the sensation of Jean's hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he rusts up to make sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you're able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world's funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

"You should have seen your face. You were so fucking scared."

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Jean. This is the Jean that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Jean.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Jean grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. "C'mon princess, you didn't think I was being serious did you?"

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. "Don't be such a crybaby. It was just a joke." He strokes your back oh so tenderly. But you won't fall for that again. Jean is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It's no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don't know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby. I love you."

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