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uravichii · 1 month

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"best friends who kiss?"

character/s: bakugo katsuki

summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.

genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo

a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.

"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"

"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.

you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.

you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."

then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.

you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.

"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"

"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"

you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.

"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"

"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."

he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.

"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"

and he's out of the door.

was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.

at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.

after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.

"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.

there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.

he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.

"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"

you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"

"s-sure."

when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?

he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.

"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.

"t's okay."

"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.

"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"

"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.

"son of a bitch."

the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.

you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.

now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.

he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'

"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.

your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.

you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.

bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.

you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.

you kick him in the shin.

"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"i was going toー"

"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"

"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.

"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"

he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.

"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."

silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.

"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.

you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."

"i'm not confused. i like you."

"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."

"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"

"stop saying that. you don't."

"i do, and you like me tooー"

"what?!" you laugh incredulously.

'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?

you do what is necessary again.

"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.

"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."

you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.

"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"

"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."

you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.

"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"

"we're not going to break it off."

"how do you know that?"

"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"

"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."

"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."

"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."

he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."

"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.

"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."

if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.

"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."

in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.

"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"

he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.

"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."

he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.

"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."

after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.

he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.

when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.

"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."

"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."

"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."

you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.

"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"

he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."

"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."

"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #bakugo katsuki drabbles #bakugo drabbles #bnha drabbles #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki fluff #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons

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ironunderstands · 1 month

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2.1 was so good holy shit (spoilers, obviously)

GOD THEY ATE AND IM SPECIFICALLY GONNA TALK ABOUT HOW WELL THEY WROTE RATIO IN THIS BECAUSE IM FOAMING AT THE GODDAMN MOUTH IT CHANGES HOW YOU VIEW EVERYTHING BUT IN A GOOD WAY.

so, let’s start from the beginning in 2.0 I want to walk you through my experience of it

ratio mean to aventurine, everyone gets mad. I feel weird about it, pre-2.1 I come to the conclusion that he got used as a plot device in that scene, since being racist contradicts his core motivations and the dialogue is awkward and has no real reason behind it, I chalk it up to bad writing but ultimately forgive it because 2.1 seems centered around Aventurine so they need setup for that

2.1 drops, my bsf plays the update throughout the night and we are losing our shit. He gets to the part where Ratio “betrays” Aventurine. I fucking lose it, I try to reconcile this with my preconceived notions of ratio, they don’t match up at all, his behavior that whole time doesn’t in the slightest. I am confused, I wonder if I have been wrong about him this whole time, if his whole speech on the Space Station and his character quests were some kind of fluke. I mean it could be in character? Knowledge of how a stellaron works could save millions if not billions of lives, invaluable information which Ratio would have trouble turning down because of its value. It still feels deeply wrong, Ratio isnt a backstabber, and he wouldn’t so easily bargain with Sunday over information he has no confirmation of (and could likely obtain in some other way).

The story continues, me and Haseeb (aforementioned best friend) are still pissed, I’m losing it because my favorite character just did something so unforgivable and out of character and I feel like a complete and utter idiot for interpreting a character to be a good person when they so clearly weren’t. Well, I (luckily) was so so so so so so so wrong about that, as it was all a setup, a plan devised by Aventurine to distract Sunday and forward their goals. I’ve never been happier, and suddenly every weird behavior, every “this doesn’t make sense” goes from “bad writing” to perhaps one of my favorite retroactive twists in fiction.

Ratio belittling Aventurine for his background doesn’t make any sense, I mean we literally saw the guy give a whole ass speech about how he believes all people deserve access to knowledge and that everyone is capable of being creative and having intellect, but that they just have to try for it, and if they are incapable of it, he DOCTOR Ratio is there to lend a helping hand. To cure the galaxy of stupidity, something which he views as not the lack of knowledge but rather the misuse and misinterpretation of it, how he depises the Genius Society because they mostly do not try and use their intellect from the betterment of other, and actively guide/encourage other scientists (and in Hertas case the researchers at the space station) to view knowledge as some sort of prize or commodity rather than tool. This notion is what causes Screwellum to acknowledge that Ratio is more like a medical doctor than a scholar. And this notion is something Sunday Isn’t Aware Of.

Sunday doesn’t know who Ratio really is, he may have heard of his various exploits, but Ratio has a reputation for arrogance, bluntness and insensitivity, something which Ratio plays up to the nines. The 2.0 scene with Aventurine goes from seemingly massively OOC for Ratio to him actively playing up his negative reputation to play into Sundays perceptions of the pair for their plan. Ratio->

a) makes it seem like Aventurine fucked up and he’s mad at him for losing the cornerstones, something which Sunday would see and go “hmm they don’t like each other

b) this “oh I can drive a wedge between them” notion gets worse (although in their case better) when Ratio brings up Aventurine’s (not entirely accurate) background. Sunday now thinks he has leverage over Aventurine and even more of a chance of getting Ratio to betray him. Ratio also makes it seem like he just learned this information by stating he “did his homework” and this supposed unfamiliarity with one another would give Sunday more confidence to try and drive a wedge between them

c) this makes it seem like the IPC are unaware of the Families constant surveillance, as it looks like they are having an important conversation in a private room, which would make Sunday think they are unaware of his eyes and ears everywhere

Now let me qualify this notion with more evidence because you could still try and argue that the deal Ratio and Aventurine struck was post 2.0 argument

Topaz (my glorious Queen). At the end of the 1.4 (or was it 1.5?) Belabog quest she has a conversation with Aventurine in which he requests for her help in Penacony, and we do not get a confirmation on if she said yes or not. Until 2.1, in which the the Topaz (and Jade) stone in in Aventurines possession, meaning she took him up on that offer prior to 2.0 because how else would he bring multiple cornerstones there, which we know there are many because Ratio says he lost the cornerstones, not just his own. Topaz would not give this item up easily or on a whim in between 2.0 and 2.1, meaning she would have to be let in on his plan prior, meaning the plan was formed prior. Since Ratio was also assigned to this mission keeping him in the dark would make negative sense and actively undermine their collaboration, something which he brings up in their fake argument

2. The Final Victory Lightcone. I originally thought this scene to be after their argument for complicated reasons, the most important of which being the minor snippet of conversation we see between Ratio and Aventurine during the first time we meet Acheron. Aventurine mentions 3 chips, Ratio doubts him, and the lightcone description starts with Aventurine questioning his doubt and firing three shots, a perfect correlation that made me place the order of events in that way. However, we get to see the snippet of conversation between Aventurine and Ratio in game, right before they meet Sunday, not prior to the lightcone events. However, they are still clearly connected for aforementioned reasons, just in a different manner, let me explain. Now we know the three chips reference not bullets but the three cornerstones, and Ratio openly expresses his doubt because the family is always watching (something which I will get into) and because a part of him does doubt this plan will go well. However, Aventurine prior reminds him of the events of the lightcone with the three chips. My interpretation is that Aventurine took that gamble in the lightcone to convince Ratio to go along with his crazy plan since if he can win a game of Russian Roulette with an unwavering smile on his face he an insane gamble means nothing to him (ratio doesn’t buy it because it’s ratio but the sheer audacity or you could say the “charming audacity” makes him go along with it). In my opinion this scene only makes sense pre-penacony, due to the timeline of events, which is why I believe it the reason for the events in it has to be Aventurine trying to convince Ratio to join in.

3) The family is always watching. During the 2.1 story quest it gets brought up several times in many different ways that it seems like the family has eyes on everything and everyone. Sunday’s fuckass bird is everywhere, and the man himself (minus being a goddamn biblically accurate angel) is covered in eye shaped shit and possesses close ties with the Harmony, which lends itself well to a character that knows things considering the Aeon itself is a conglomeration of many different perspectives. He fucking perception checks Aventurine, when the crew goes to look for info on firefly they learn the dream pools monitor people’s vitals and everything, even producing a dialogue option where the trailblazer states they feel like their every move is being watched. Topaz gets stalked by bloodhound members upon arrival, I could go on. TLDR Sunday knows almost everything that’s going on in Penacony, this is what leads him to believe the traitor is within the family, and his access to knowledge is something the IPC 100% knows about. I mean they have been presumably attempting to try and get it back for a while, and they would reasonably extensively try and learn everything about it. The Family notoriously hates negotiating with them so the IPC either learning and/or coming to the conclusion that the Family is watching their every move isn’t a ridiculous notion. If this conversation was genuine, if Ratio truly wanted to discuss this matter with Aventurine, why would he do it in a likely wiretapped, not very soundproof room where any passerby could hear Ratio loudly exclaim that Aventurine lost the very important cornerstones and that he is also one of the most despised groups in the galaxy because that would really do numbers for both their reputations. If you think about it, this not being staged is an incredibly stupid blunder on Ratio’s end (minus the deliberate OOCness) because of all the places Ratio could set up a very important meeting he does it in one of the worst places ever.

4) The dialogue in the scene. It’s awkward, it’s so awkward and the whole “also my family died I didn’t get an education” seemed so tacked on the first time I watched it. Knowing now, it seemed so tacked on because it was, Aventurine had to shove the info in there somewhere and their incredible conversational skills decided that was the best part in there. Ratio fucking leaving before Aventurine is even done talking goes from a “huh weird” to a “wow he is really playing up this arrogant scholar role”. And if Ratio is playing the arrogant scholar, Aventurine is playing the dumb, helpless, blonde to a T. Losing the cornerstones and acting nonchalant about it, letting Ratio insult him so callously and letting the insults slide, talking absolute nonsense at the end about random things that don’t matter, sadly lamenting into the distance that he’s alone again. Bro is playing it up and I live for it. They also and play up these personas in their little adventure prior to meeting Sunday, Aventurine asks stupid questions like wondering about the species of the bird that make up the statues and talking about how he wants to play in the sandpit and even insulting Sunday a bit, behavior that would make Sunday think him unprepared and unserious rather than cold and calculating. If Aventurine does that well, Ratio plays up his arrogant, uncaring scholar persona to the nines. He insults any and every decision or thing Aventurine does, loudly sighing of how happy he is to finally have some peace and quiet when Aventurine leaves his sight for 0.00008 milleseconds, pointing out his sarcasm, beefing with a random Pepeshi bodyguard no reason, pointing out his sarcasm, just the exaggerated way he talks in general, and suggesting he admit Aventurine into the Genius Society (even Ratio wouldn’t stoop so low as to suggest Aventurine was worthy of that).

Moreover, this is really, really tragic because I do think there are several moments of genuine banter and fun the two share “Ratio, you’re huge!” was not added to the script to enhance the plot guys. And obviously Aventurine knows most of Ratios behavior is acting, however he has such severe trust issues, and Ratio is so damn straightforward and blunt that he worries the man was serious about some of it which just breaks my heart. Soft Ratio please add it give me one conversation, the note at the end of 2.1 doesn’t count it’s too short.

Ultimately, knowing what I know now I can’t help but view the 2.0 conversation with Aventurine as being anything but staged, it simply makes no sense otherwise, and it happily obsolescent Ratio of his sins. This was a bit incoherent I honestly just wanted to rant (if you couldn’t tell haha) but I hope you enjoyed it regardless. I need sincere Ratio more then I need oxygen and I’m not afraid to say it.

#honkai star rail #hsr spoilers #aventurine #dr ratio #aventio #i love 2.1

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selfishdoll · 5 months

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NURSE! KENJAKU ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 you wouldn’t want the whole hospital to hear what a slut you are, now would you?

AUTHOR’S NOTE ── 𖦷 i was literally in the middle of mulling over my eren fic when nurse kenjaku fanart was posted in the gc. so thanks guys <33 the fact is i don’t even like kenjaku fr, but uh.. nurse him is hot asf i can’t deny. trust nurse kenjaku (and only nurse kenjaku) will be written for again. also jjk spoilers ig?? and as always this unedited so please excuse typos

Your fingers gripped the sheets underneath you, legs spread open whilst heavy pants escaped you. The gloved hand moved diligently in and out of you, thumb caressing your swollen little bud all while an arm was strewn across your shoulders— gripping one.

Your legs began to close as your orgasm approached, gasping the moment the fingers were removed to instead land an open-palm hit to your messy cunt. “F—fuck!” You cried out, arousal leaking and dripping underneath you.

“I gave you two instructions.” Her honeyed tone was delivered right in your ear, lips glossed with red threatening to taint the shell of it. “To stay quiet and keep your legs open.. I’m so disappointed, you couldn’t do either.”

“I—I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You whined out, head slacking the moment the beautiful nurse slapped your pussy again— your clit swelling from the attention.

Her arm slid from around your shoulders to collect your chin, lifting your face to glance at you. Her dark eyes took in your features disgust and amusement revolving in her eyes whilst her lip quirked just a bit.

“Such a disgusting thing.. making such a mess on this clean hospital bed.” Her thumb pushed between your lips before you could even think of apologizing, pressing against your tongue to watch you whine. The nurse leaned closer whilst her wet, gloved hand caressed the inside of your thigh. “I’ll give you one last chance..” She whispered, breath fanning across your face as her hand hovered above your wet slit; delicately spreading your folds.

“You won’t disappoint me again, right? You’ll be a good slut for me and keep your legs open and your mouth shut?” Her thumb slipped from your lips in a soft pop, eyebrows lifting in search of a response.

Like some idiotic bobble head your head was shaking faster than it should have, legs widening as you bit the bottom of your lip.

The nurse grinned at you, thumb moving back to your abused clit;

“Good. Good girl.”

REBLOGS & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED <3

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x fem!reader #mdni #kenjaku #nurse kenjaku #kenjaku x reader #nurse kenjaku x reader #fem! kenjaku x fem! reader #x black reader #x reader #jjk x black!reader

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poisonedprose · 8 months

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hii i saw that thing about you guys being ashamed about thinking of leon using a knife on you and then you said “i am even more ashamed to admit how many times ive almost written this”

please you literally need to write something like oh my god the way you write stuff is amazing and im sure that if you did write something like that it would be so good and sheet grabbing even if it’s something short 𖦹☆

₊˚✧ slice — in which leon fucks you with his knife after work

leon kennedy x afab!reader

warnings: 1k words, smut, @spideychai i know you dont read much smut but it only felt right to tag you, inspired by this post, pet names (princess, love, good girl, slut), curse words, pwp, kinda ooc, bit of sadism, bit of dacryphilia, bondage, leons a tiny but drunk, (bloody) knife obvi, mentions of killing, sir kink

masterlists

Leon had a habit of taking his pent up anger and stress out on you. He would fuck you dumb with his fingers until you were sobbing and begging for his cock to fill you up. He loved the way you bucked your hips with your wrists tied to the bedpost, just aching to feel his hard cock throb against the walls of your dripping cunt. He loved when your mind went all hazy when he shoved his whole length in your cunt without warning, chuckling sadistically at the way you almost came the second you felt his thick cock.

This time was different though. He came home from work angrier than you've ever seen him. He didn't even greet you as he walked past you, just heading straight to the fridge and pulling out an ice cold beer. He practically chugged the bottle, leaving the empty, save for a few drops, bottle on the counter before finally acknowledging you. "Bedroom. Now." He ordered and you'd be an idiot not to comply.

He grabbed another beer before following you into the bedroom, watching your ass as you walked. You sat on the bed without having to be told, he sipped on his beer as he thought about what he wanted to do to you. The smirk on your face told you, you wouldn’t be getting off easy tonight. He stood in front of you as you sat on the bed.

He looked down on you, his gaze was almost condescending but, fuck, his lustful eyes were too gorgeous to ignore. His gloved hand caressed your cheek, sliding down your face to hold your chin, his bottle of beer still in his other hand. He takes a sip, his gaze immediately falls back on you after he does. "You know the drill." He instructs in a raspy voice, lust mixed with alcohol was always a sexy combination for him, especially when he didn't change out of his work uniform or remove any of his gear.

You began to undress per his orders. Your clothes fall into a nice pile on the floor. You lay back on the bed, goosebumps forming on your bare skin and your nipples hardening. He gets on the bed as well, putting his beer on the nightstand. He sat on his knees as he hovered above you, one of his knees between your legs, dangerously close to your cunt. He brushes some of your hair out of your face as he lightly drags his fingers over your clit.

His fingers were slow as they caress your puffy clit. Quiet moans left your sultry lips. You waited for the moment he plunged his thick digits into your glistening hole but he never did. There was a devilish smirk on Leon's face, he was plotting something. He pulls his fingers away from your clit, dragging them up your body, leaving a trail of your slick up your body. His fingers land at your mouth, silently, he instructs you to suck. His knee replaces his fingers, pushing up into you to keep you wet for him.

You swirl your tongue around his fingers wishing it was his cock. He smiles at your obedience, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and giving you a praiseful kiss on your cheek. He was eerily quiet but the mystery was what excited you the most. He reaches to his chest, grabbing his knife out of its holster. The blade of the knife was covered in blood. Something about seeing Leon holding his knife that was probably used to kill countless enemies, even still being covered in blood, excited you and terrified you at the same time.

He wipes the blade on his dark blue shirt, the staining not very noticeable. "Open your legs, princess." His voice was softer than it was before, basically telling you there was still time to back out. You opened your legs wider with no hesitation, enjoying the switch up of the normal routine. He leans over and spits on your cunt, rubbing the liquid all over your pussy for more lubrication.

You gasp when you feel the cold handle of his knife run between your folds. You grip the sheets between your fingers as he teases your entrance. Your hips buck and he's quick to hold your hips down with his other hand. "Leon..." You whine breathlessly to which his smirk widens. "Yes, my love? Is something wrong?" He asks cockily as he continues to tease you.

You whine again, knowing he was deliberately fucking with you but the new, foreign feeling felt too good to risk, so you just stayed quiet. "Yeah, gonna be quiet like a good girl?" He leans over and whispers in your ear, followed by kissing your neck. You nod, keeping quiet beside your moans as he finally stops teasing you and slides the handle of the knife into your soaked cunt.

He leans back and watches your face contort in pleasure and your back arch as you shove your head into the pillow beneath you. "Oh, fuck," He chuckles lowly, his laugh full of breath. "Look at you." He praises, watching with an amused smile. "This feel good, slut? Hm?" You nod incoherently as you push yourself deeper into his knife. "Yeah, bet it does." His free hand rubs over your abdomen before his thumb starts rubbing fast circles on your clit.

"Bet my cock would feel even better? Wouldn't it, love?" He smirks and for a split second, you actually believe he might not tease you all night as you approach your orgasm. "Yes, yes, yes!" You moan like a pornstar, embarrassingly close to your release. "That's too bad." He chuckles quietly as he stops all pleasure, removing his thumb from your clit and pulling the knife away from you.

You whine, disappointed that he was denying your orgasm. "Be a good girl and I'll go easy on you." He promises in a sinful tone as he drags the blade of the knife across your boobs. "Got it?" He asks, still fiddling with the knife that’s being dragged all over your body. "G-Got it, sir."

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#! 𖦹 ₊˚✧ re .#first of all ily anon #second of all thank you for reqesting this #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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workingbynyx · 3 months

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heey, saw that you were open for requests so I would like to ask for a romcom jason todd x reader where the reader is flirty and has a crush on Red Hood, but has no idea that he is Jason Todd (their regular at the cafe they own) so he gets kinda flustered everytime he sees the reader when he is going to get coffee

(hope you can understand this, english is not my first language)

Beautiful Stranger — Jason Todd x GN!Reader

↷ summary — after a faithful encounter with red hood one night ago, you quickly developed a crush on the masked vigilante. but, would you believe if the cute regular at your coffee shop was him? ˎˊ˗

↷ pairing — jason todd x gn!reader ˎˊ˗

↷ genre — romance, comedy, a bunch of fluff ˎˊ˗

↷ warning/s — none! other than a few curse words, use of y/n and possible grammar errors ˎˊ˗

↷ a/n — hi anon! dw i LOVEEEE that request sm, i hope you have fun reading this as much as i had writing it ^^ i might've switched it up a bit in the process so i'm so sorry for that 😭 i also figured i'd use the wayne family adventures version of jason for this one since it kinda fits the whole theme of this fic hihi and he turned into such a simp in this so it might be ooc at some point help, enjoy reading! ˎˊ˗

"what the hell are you doing here walkin' around late at night?" the masked man said in between short breaths after taking down a robber that's been following you since you closed down the café for tonight. you were lucky enough to have 'the' red hood on patrol and save you from a potential robbery. the thought of him guiding, if not stalking, you and jumping on the thug as soon as he's about to make a move somehow made your heart skip at the act of service...if its even counted with them now laying on the ground unconscious.

what you didn't know is this man was jason, the regular you'd have come in around 9 to 10 am to have his morning coffee and sit around the shop until lunch. you always observed the guy to be somewhat mysterious but endearing at the same time, he'd always ask for the same coffee and pastry combo over and over again, not bothering to change his order. he became quite an easy customer to remember at some point, other than the fact that he had white streaked hair which made him attractive and memorable to you. in fact, everytime he came in all you had to do was ask "the usual?" and jason'll nod along then go back to his corner, mouthing a silent 'thank you' when you deliver his treat and maybe even strike up a conversation if he's in the mood.

but right now, jason is simply the infamous masked red vigilante who just kicked some ass for your own sake.

"my apartment is this way, how was i supposed to know robbers lurked around here" you replied in return, tucking in one of your hands inside the pocket of your coat as you froze in front of him. jason began approaching you and stopped when you came face to face, the height difference between the two of you forced you to tilt your head upwards— the all-white lens of his helmet staring down at you. "watch the news, its not safe out here. take the route to your right next time, and bring at least a pepper spray with you" if only his mask didn't have a built in voice changer you would've known seconds ago it's him.

you were stunned for a moment as he listed down things that'd probably go straight out your other ear. "y'know, for someone i just met you're oddly protective over me" you finally spoke, a hint of mischief underlying your tone. that's when you begun wondering who is it under that costume. is he cute? is he what you're imagining him to be like?

jason, on the other hand, blinked a couple times out of confusion if it weren't for his get up covering his entire features. "what?" he said. "nothing, it's just...i didn't think a vigilante would care so much for a civilian like me" you answered, an innocent smile creeping up your lips like an idiot in love. "its my job. obviously i should look out for the people of Gotham, shouldn't i?" he crossed his arms across his chest, covering the red insignia of his bulletproof suit.

"obviously, i guess i didn't have the special treatment like i thought" you practically said with a slight pout forming when you look up to him, going silent for a moment. "do you really tell all the people you save to bring pepper spray or just me? i wanna know if i got the special advisory from you at least" you added as a tease, earning a slight frustrated groan from jason afterwards. "i don't have time for this—" "well I do" you bravely chimed in without missing a beat. "i got all night even"

the sigh jason had let out was almost comical, he took a step backward when it's really just him starting to get flustered by his barista seemingly flirting with his other identity, who would've thought you'd find him attractive? not jason that's for sure. "get home safe, take the route i told you if you wanna keep your wallet stocked" then he noticed the small cut on your cheekbone, it must've been from the pocket knife the thug had.

he briefly pointed at it, "you got something" you lifted your fingers to search for it only to be met with a slight sting when you did, a small amount of blood staining your index finger. you hissed at the feeling, squinting your eye when it lingered for a bit. "calm down, its not that serious" jason said. "some alcohol and bandaid should do the trick" and you took his advice, you certainly wouldn't allow yourself to show up at work with a random cut to your face.

"y'know why don't you help and patch me up at this point? i could use some assistance" and you still had the nerve to decide and toy around with him for a bit...to see how far the both of you are willing to go. to be fair, you just wanted to know who was it under that mask— this could potentially lead to it if you're lucky. "what are you, 8?" jason replied. "no but i'm surely a 10" you winked playfully, the corner of your lip turning into a smirk as you watched his body language intently.

"jesus christ.." jason muttered under his breath, starting to walk away from this situation he's stuck in. "aw c'mon! that was a smooth line admit it! oh okay— well, thank you red..man! i'll see you soon...i think" you yelled from the same position you're in, seeing his tall frame go farther in the distance. jason didn't say nothing in return, but he kept a secret smile under his mask as he disappeared from sight.

its been a couple weeks since your last encounter with red hood, you took most of his suggestions that night and started going the safer route when you had to be on the closing shift. since then, you've been at the lower risk of getting robbed again thanks to him and his unforgettable presence. but it's not only you who hasn't stopped thinking about that night, jason was still trying to relive the moment of his barista basically flirting with him. he figured you would've known it's him within seconds...guess not.

it didn't bother him, it's the thought of your reaction to him being behind the helmet is what. jason wouldn't blame you though, imagine how shocking it would be to find out your regular is a vigilante at night. it's like betrayal but in a different form. he usually doesn't care about revealing his identity to the people he knows, but when it came to you it's different. he's conscious for the first time, he was overthinking things and coming up with plans how to avoid it from happening in many ways possible so he stopped visiting the shop for a while. it's becoming weird, you two weren't even close to begin with— so why was he stressing so much about it?

while jason spent most of his nights in Gotham thinking about you, you started noticing his frequent visits slowly turned little to nothing at all. you found yourself always anticipating the sound of the bell when the doors open to each customer only to be met with disappointment when he didn't come through. and today seems to be the same, you kept glancing over the glass doors hoping you'd see a tall, slightly scary and muscular man enter...until he finally did.

you feel your heart skip a beat seeing him after a while, the same feeling you got a couple nights ago but you didn't mind. you quickly went over the cashier, mentally ready to take his order with a smile. "hey! welcome back, i didn't see you in here for a while" you greeted when he stopped right at the counter. jason wore a red hoodie and a brown leather jacket layering over it, he must've liked wearing that a lot. "oh...uh yeah," he brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, trying to come up with something. "i got caught up in work. i didn't have the time to stop buy for coffee" that's a lie. "but i'm here now" is he really?

"oh, you must've been really busy then?" you added, listening to his reason. "definitely yeah," lies once again. jason sucked in a breath, looking away to get a glimpse of the menu like he really is getting anything else other than an americano and cookies. "got anything new f'me?" he asked which took you by surprise. "you're not getting the usual anymore?" you said. "eh well, it gets old after a while" he says.

"that's fair, well we got new cake flavors if you wanna try them out. what would you like?" you then tap a few things into the register to input his order to which he asks for a latte and dark chocolate cake. you tell him his total and he pays for it, giving him his change and receipt. jason mouths a thank you and quickly goes to sit on one of the chairs by the window where you can still see him right in the corner of your eye, you catch him glancing at your direction while you made his coffee which is strange since he never did that.

jason on the other hand seems to be more fidgety, he figured he'd tell you the truth today after you get off of work but it's easier said than done as he's starting to think it was a bad idea. his frequent visits gave him the advantage to eventually learn about your schedule and today happens to be an early leave. he mentally hyped himself up, hunched over the chair with his elbows resting on both his thighs while he waited.

a few minutes passed by and you eventually finished making everything, putting the small plate and fork on a plate along with his drink as you brought it over to his table. you slightly crouched down to carefully place the plate in front of him followed by the drink and fork, jason waited til you were done and looked up to you. he notices the cut still there on the side of your cheek, seemingly in the healing process now. he cleared his throat and nudged his head toward you. "you alright? you got a slit right there" he started.

"hm? oh this. it's uh, it's nothing. i almost got mugged a few nights ago and had to hold up a pretty decent fight" you explained, clutching the tray near to your chest. "oh? well, did you win at least?" jason laid back into the chair, still looking up towards you to see if you'll mention about the 'hero' that saved you. "i guess in some way yeah, someone showed up and kicked some ass within seconds" you said, a smile slowly forming at the thought of red hood creeping your mind once again. "it's a shame i didn't get his name though, he seems like a nice guy"

"...who did you think it was?" jason started, a lump in his throat started forming the more the conversation went on. he waited for an answer, desperate to know what you think and what could be the reason why you did all that during that night. "i have no clue, but he had a red helmet and a pretty sick suit! i'm not a fan of vigilante but that dude's doing it for me. i wanted to ask him out but he looks out of it, he might've been tired so i don't blame him" a slight blush creeped into jason's cheek when he felt it heat up at what you said, he found it amusing that you were practically talking about him while having no idea at the same time.

"that's..that's great" he nodded along, clearing his throat once more as he focused on the food in front of him then back to you. "i uh, i also wanted to ask" your ears perked up at this, pursing your lips into a thin smile. "what time are you...getting off?" he finally says even if he already knew the answer. you were taken back by this, your brows raising at the sudden question. "oh uhm, probably in an hour or so. i have an early leave today so it might be even less than that" you started. "why'd you ask?"

"i..." his voice trailed off, he doesn't seem to get the words out without it sounding like he's asking you out— well, technically he is. "nothing, just curious that's all" he gave a stiff smile as he reached for his fork. "oh okay well, i'll be at the counter if you need me" you said with a smile as you walked away before one of your managers yell at you again for making unneccessary small talk.

jason waited until you went back before releasing a disappointed sigh at himself, he sets down the fork and covered his face with both of his hands— feeling embarrassed at how stupid he sounds asking the question and completely fumbling it over. 'you just had to fuck it up, did you?' he thought to himself. he's never gonna get this over with.

a few minutes passed by and you see jason finishing up his snack, the small plate of cake now left with smudges of frosting and small bits of crumbs and the cup of coffee almost emptied out. you were relieved that he liked the new menu item after months of eating the same thing, it might be the start of something new for him you think. although his question from earlier never left your mind, you tried searching for answers and it all came down to him possibly asking you out.

but why would he? he's way out of your league and he probably knows it, why would he lower his standards to a café worker when he could have anyone out there to go on dates with. was he messing with you or is he trying to give signals? it could explain why he always visited your café and not the famous ones in the city but still, you didn't wanna assume. maybe he's just trying to be friends.

you didn't even realize that jason was already standing on the other side of the counter while you were lost in your thoughts doing the dishes, you heard him call out to you which snapped you out of it. you turn to look behind and see him there with a sheepish smile. you quickly closed the faucet and wiped your hands off as you went up to him, "hey! what's up?"

"nothing, i just wanted to say i'm gonna get going. i still have a few things to catch up on back home" "oh that's fine! goodluck with whatever you're up to then" you cheered him on aa he slightly chuckled, the sound of hearing his laughter for the first time did something to you and you didn't know what it was that made it so attractive. "thanks, i'll see you around" jason finally says with a thin smile.

you waved goodbye and went back to what you're doing as you're trying to shake off the lingering feeling that you just felt, "and y/n" you heard him call out to you again. "make good use of the spray, that's a special advisory" jason said proudly, making his way out of the shop before you could even process what he said

"thank you! I'll ma— wait..." then it finally registered. "WHAT?!"

#dc comics #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x f!reader #jason todd x m!reader #dceu #✎ ─ nyx fics !#red hood x gn!reader #red hood x f!reader #red hood x m!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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mcuntainbcrn · 4 days

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Starter Call!

Like this post for a starter of varying length - multis, please specify ^^

#a whole ass idiot: ooc #starter call

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

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The Root Of All Ransom (Finale)

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see previous or series)

Summary: Ransom figures out how to undo his disinheritance.

Warnings for language (I'm never kidding about how many f-bombs this boy drops), smut (blowjob, p in v sex that is consensually unprotected, general smuttery), vague contemplations of murder but we ain't going the canon route. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist. This is not your story!

I have somehow managed to put Ransom Drysdale deep in his feels. This is only OOC if you haven't read up to this point, but we do end on a soft!Ransom note. WC 6954 (oh my fucking wat???)

Ransom huffs out a foggy breath in the night air, cold in more ways than one. All the windows glow from the mansion, yet it looks completely different in light of what Harlan’s done.

Thrombey Manor is his birthright. He doesn’t love the architecture or the eccentric layout. He hates the furniture. He’s never really enjoyed anything about the place. It’s the polar opposite of his own house, but it was his in a way, part of his status, part of his baseline of existence. He’s not prepared for any other eventuality. Ransom built his life on a perfectly stable bridge that some idiot just blew up with C4.

No, no, not some idiot. His own family. The only member of his family he would think could never do this to him. Fuck Harlan.

Ran’s been flying high on a lie, and the magic money carpet’s been ripped away.

He has one lifeline, one option he’s grasping onto.

If he can manage this, nothing will change. He won’t lose the allowance. He won’t lose you. You’ll never know how unworthy he is. He can just have everything and never speak of this again.

Harlan. Marta. Inheritance. Killing two birds with one liquid stone.

Ran could do it. He will do it, but you cannot know. He can’t have you around. He has to push, to start giving you a safe distance, to leave you plausible deniability. If you suspect, you’ll leave him anyway.

If he succeeds, worst case? He’s rich and alone. If he does nothing? He’ll be poor and alone.

One of those scenarios used to be acceptable, but not now, not anymore.

Pushing you away tonight might be the last time you ever look at him without pity, and he’s not ready for how heavy that sits in his roiling gut. He has to though. He has to make you leave, if only for the rest of the night—but it might be forever, his brain reminds him. Fucker. It’s not like Ran’s pleasant to be around. Getting away from him shouldn’t be a hard sell.

When you emerge from the house, however, what he hoped would sound sharp and dismissive sounds oddly open-ended.

“You could just walk from here,” he tries wishfully.

True to form, beautiful, pissed-off you sidesteps his expectations.

You take his coat, your coat, and the Birkin to the passenger’s side with a ferocious look.

“Get in the car,” you manage through tight lips.

Fuck. He misses you already. He hasn’t given up. He won’t, but his center of gravity is gone. He’s reeling from this.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale revolves around money.

His whole life he has stretched wide and greedy limbs to capture numbered, green rays of meaning. He hasn’t only lost the light of his sun now. No. Nuclear winter has just stripped him bare and knocked him on his ass. Ran cannot articulate all the reasons he’s so upset.

He values you and him together for relatively selfish reasons. From all he’s seen, you don’t need any more people in your life that exist so far below you. You don’t need ‘help.’ You need an equal, a free and independent equal. Ran isn’t even fucking close anymore.

With a stroke of a pen, he’s now dependent. It’s pathetic. If he stays without even the means to be your not-quite-equal, then he’s everything he hates. He’ll be clingy. He’ll be needy. He’ll be in the way. He’ll finally do it; he will annoy you.

He will bore you.

What a fucking world.

You snap him out of his dashboard stare.

“Do you want to talk about it now or at home?”

“Neither,” he quips easily. “I’ll drop you at the Carlyle’s.”

His eye twitches at his faux pas. You don’t have to correct him. He knows it’s your place, your name, your property, and your right to claim. He doesn’t need reminding.

His key twists in the ignition just as your hand comes up to his shoulder.

He can’t even glare at you properly because a tap rings off his window pane. Both of you jump in alarm because night fell hours ago. Who sneaks up on a car in the fucking dark?

Ran’s father is fucking who. Of course. The window peels down, and Ransom feels as if the last seconds of his life are draining away after the plug’s been pulled.

“Trouble in paradise, you two?” Dick asks with cheeky concern.

“No, Mister Drysdale,” you say politely, no hint of insincerity in your smile.

“Richard, please, honey. You’re practically family.”

Smug asshole, do NOT call her ‘honey.’

“Eat shit,” Ransom mutters overly loud again, but your sudden slow grip on his kneecap tells him to behave. Ol’ Dick has no right to call you ‘honey’ though. Ran’s not even sure what he’s allowed to call you, and he’s pissed, sure. He’s…something else, too; he’s obedient beneath your hand.

Richard ignores Ran’s attitude. “Listen, son, I just wanted you to know that whatever happens, your mother and I will always love you. In case…ya know, in case you ever doubted, and…well, we’re family. We stick together.” He even gives Ran a squeeze on the shoulder for emphasis.

Ransom has no fucking clue what his father intends with that entirely useless statement but doesn’t fucking care. “You know what?” He’s about to lunge out the window to choke that fucking prick. “Definitely eat shit.”

Your grip tightens, and Ran’s insides clench, knowing he toes a line.

“We should really go,” you add with a now painful, strained civility.

“Okay, you crazy kids,” Richard pats his heavy hand on the door frame. “Thanks for coming to the party and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course, Richard.”

Ransom rolls the window back up without looking at you. That sure as shit was not his father’s reaction to Harlan throwing millions at Marta fucking Candelabra. He can’t be near these people anymore, so Ran slams his foot on the gas, peeling out of the driveway, and scattering gravel in his wake.

Your sigh releases with the pressure on his knee. “I suspect it’s about his affair.”

As if that narrows it down. “Which one?”

“The first one as far as your grandpa knows,” you snort, “which hopefully Linda buys too from the way you’ve talked about it. Jesus, really? Slow down!”

Ran doesn’t want to slow down. The car is finally catching up to his racing thoughts and a plan coalescing. If Harlan knows about Richard’s affair, then his mother will absolutely divorce him, leaving Dick with nothing—and if you know that Harlan knows about it then—

“Hugh—” the hand has slid from his knee to his crotch, the heel of your palm gently digging into the stiff fabric of his jeans “—we should have taken care of you before…”

Fuck, that feels good.

You’re right, of course. Ran really should have planned a few minutes of privacy for you both to get off after the airport. Not that it’d have to be private for him (parking lot, terminal, or tarmac—he wouldn’t fucking care), but the thought flashes in his mind like the bright spots behind his eyelids that he might not get to fuck you again. That’s profoundly upsetting, and your grip on the outline of his swelling cock is profoundly distracting.

He swats at your arm, blood rushing to his tension-white knuckles only for a second, but you simply swivel in the seat to change hands, dragging down his zipper.

“Sweetheart“ slips out. Is he allowed to say that anymore? He should still act normal, right? Except he’s been a raging mess for a quarter-hour already and oh fuck. “What are you…”

Ran’s been wrong this whole time: you are a road head bitch.

He’s so taken aback by your spit-slicked lips cooly brushing the head of him that he nearly elbows your spine. The car swerves slightly as he strains to collect himself, to think of just one other thing instead of your fucking tongue sliding down his length to tease at his still-covered balls and—

Mother of fucking mercy, he has to pull over.

Only by some miracle, some blessed (or horrible) gap in his distraction, is he able to consciously choose parking off the lane just beyond the menagerie elephant statue because, otherwise, that pervy-ass groundskeeper could relive his long-forgotten past of grainy porn. Because that’s what this is turning into. Pornographic is the only way to describe the choked grunt Ran finally lets out as he slams on the brake and you snap the car into park just to get the gear shift out of your way.

“I’m only here three days,” you say around a mouthful of cock, bobbing a few more times before switching to your hand. “I’m not letting you ruin it by being fucking baby.”

“I’m not—fuck—“ he’s not expecting you to climb over him in the cramped car “—you don’t understand.”

“So you don’t want me right now?”

He shakes his head furiously, half in hope of collecting genuine thought, half in desperation for you to continue.

Space is so limited between Ran’s body and the steering column that your bent knees pin his arms to the door and the console. It should hurt but fuck if he’s gonna say anything while he watches you peel your panties to the side and line yourself up.

“Gah, you just—“ he pants as his heart rate spikes. Instead of putting him in you, Ran’s paralyzed to stop two of your fingers from sinking into your soaked pussy. You’re drooling for him, mouth and cunt, and goddamn, he is so torn between pounding you into next week or tossing you out of the car to get on with his plan.

It’s about an 80/20 split in favor of fucking you.

And then he thinks…yeah, he could definitely get off and get you to the Carlyle’s—your place—in time to sneak back. So he just lets go, shoving his face forward to capture your lips, enjoying the wet sounds as you prep for him, and eating up your moans and curses. He knows you’re purposefully dragging your knuckles against his dick as you bring them out with each stroke. Why are you so fucking hot? Why can’t he just have this without Harlan’s help?

He’s dependent.

Ran realizes he always was, but he fucking hates it.

Removing your fingers makes the bunched-up dress pool over your hips and graze his raging erection. Great, now your spit and his precum are smeared all over your clothes. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him. Normally, that would be even hotter. Now, Ran wonders how much that damn thing costs because he never even looked; he just knew it suited you.

A steady grip at his base and suddenly Ran can’t wonder about any fucking thing under the sun. Your walls welcome him inch by inch like he’s goddamn worthy of that silky squeeze, but he can’t say shit. All he can manage is craning his neck forward to mouth over your nearest breast, arms still pinned. Fuck it. More fluids on the dress. If you don’t care, he doesn’t care. Maybe. Maybe he’ll just care later. Maybe he’ll learn to look at the cost of things. Maybe he won’t have to when he succeeds at fixing this dumpster fire of a situation.

His teeth graze against a barely felt but hard-peaked nipple, and you gasp out another moan. You have to shift to wedge your leg down by his side and repeat with the other one. One of his forearms is tingling, asleep, so he switches his mouth around and uses the functioning arm to play.

You’re moving so slow, too slow.

“You fucking love to mess with me,” Ran growls, all but biting through the layers before yanking at the neckline, savoring the plush skin he exposes. “Love fucking me,” he mutters again.

“Yeah, baby, why do you think that is?” You use the name so condescendingly and roll your hips so deliberately that Ransom bites back a ‘fuck you,’ instead forcing out a strangled whine. You just drag yourself up and down until he answers, pushing his t-shirt and an errant tail of his cardigan out of the way. Your fingers gently scratch the flat plain of his abs.

“Say it.”

He knows the answer. He’s known for a while, but that’s not something Ran’s ever gonna be ready for. It’s just already the truth.

It’s as soft as a hum against your skin.

“Say it, Hugh. Tell me why.”

He can tell by how you’re getting sloppier with your movement, by how hard you grind forward against him, that you’re close.

“Because you love me.” Ran winces at how desperate he sounds. It’s almost a cry, but he can’t really resist repeating it. “You love me.”

Your hands bury in his hair, and he’s literally covered in you while trapped in this fucking steam room of a car. He can’t control anything he’s doing.

“You love me,” he says again.

“Yes.”

“You love me.”

“Fuck, yes, baby.”

You’re fluttering around his cock like a dream, shouting encouragement, and it just slips out.

“I love you.”

He has no idea if you even hear him because you come so hard that your back bends, slamming you against the steering wheel.

The horn blares in the quiet woods.

You wait for him to yank you forward and erupt into sated giggles while Ran is a whole different kind of paralyzed, hiding his face in your chest for as long as you’re simmering without care.

Your fingers card through sweaty hair, your heartbeat slowing more than his does.

“Think you need this,” you say in a breathy whisper. You pull away to cradle his face.

He’s terrified you’re gonna ask. You’re gonna want him to say it again, he thinks, and Ran’s not sure he can with your eyes boring into his, knowing what he knows, being what he is until the will is void.

“I want you to come, Hugh.” Your thumb traces across his bottom lip, gaze following before it flickers back up.

You sound so fucking innocent while your slick is smeared all over his low belly and seeping through his underwear. His boxers are kinda in the way but kinda immovable while in such cramped quarters. Pushed aside, they hinder only as much as your bunched-up panties do. Easy enough to live with.

You keep staring expectantly.

“Do you want me to stop—“ fuck NO “—or will you give me what I want?”

Ran’s whole chest clenches, and it’s only because he slams his mouth to yours that you can’t see his eyes roll in fucking ecstasy. Perfect. You’re goddamn perfect. He couldn’t deny you anything much less this, and he knows that if this is the last time, he has to take advantage.

Sliding down slightly on the seat (because everything operates in centimeters at most this close), he takes two giant handfuls of your ass and spreads you, lifting so he can thrust his hips up at a brutal pace. He doesn’t fucking care if his knees bang against unyielding metal. He doesn’t care that a vein in his neck might snap from strain. He just needs this one thing, and then he’ll let it go. He’ll be ready for whatever outcome Harlan’s death triggers.

Because Ransom needs money. He had money long before he had you. It’s what he needs the most in life. He loves money.

If losing you is what it takes to keep the money…

That’s the thought he can’t finish as control of the urge to come slips from his bruising fingers. His desire for his status quo is faltering. His equilibrium’s changed.

He does love money. He does.

Now, to Ran's surprise, he loves you, and he has no fucking clue how to love both. He doesn’t know if he can keep both.

But friction is friction. He’s surrounded by the feel and sound and smell of sex. It’s familiar and more than a little haunting to him if this is the last time, but Ran crests that mountain before any coherent thoughts form. He can’t trust himself to speak. He might repeat what he never should have said aloud.

The groan when he empties himself inside you is almost pained, swallowed immediately by your adoring and hungry kiss. He’s sweat straight through his t-shirt and his jeans are a fucking mess. Your dress is damp, stained, and wrinkled. You’re practically bonded to the leather seat, but he just absently runs the back of his fingers up and down your thighs while he comes down.

When you release his mouth, your arms settle across his shoulders, and he buries his face in your chest again, hiding, relishing, stalling.

Shit, he’s gonna miss this.

After a minute, you rest your forehead against his and lift your hips until his limp dick slides out of you. Through half-closed eyes Ran watches you bite your bottom lip, gnaw on it like he wants to, like he moves to—

“Is this about the will?”

Ran freezes.

“Did—Harlan told you, didn’t he?”

“WHAT THE SHIT.” Ran’s rage explodes, heaving you off of him and into the passenger’s seat. “YOU FUCKING KNEW?!”

He shoves himself back in his pants and scrambles for the damn zipper.

“Ransom, it’s fine. He just—“

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you warn me? Jesus FUCK.” He’s unlatched and kicked the door open before you even get a word out.

“Harlan is my friend and—“

But he slams it shut, leaving your words muffled while Ran fumes in damp fucking clothes in the frigid air.

His fists almost—almost—pound on the hood of his car as he bites out, “I could have killed him.”

Ran’s pacing toward the tree line when you finally shuffle from the beamer, pulling your dress back into place.

“Harlan’s my friend and he asked me in confidence if it made sense.”

“I’m sorry, he asked you? As in, my grandfather might not have done this if you hadn’t thrown me under the bus.”

“It wasn’t just about you.”

“It makes sense to leave me destitute? And you knew! You lying bitch,” he growls, immediately wishing the word hadn’t popped out, clawing at his scalp in a punishing attempt to think. “You watched me throw all that fucking money away and didn’t think I deserved to know?!“

“I’ve met you. Why would you listen to me about how to spend your money? That isn’t something you do, Ransom.”

“That’s not the point!” And stop calling me fucking ‘Ransom.’ “I can handle myself.”

“Then I guess your answer is ‘that’s how you spent the money,’ by choice.”

“I wasn’t given a choice. You lied to me. You’re the one who didn’t trust me.”

Your stalk forward in the dry leaves, stopping just outside of arm’s length away. “What the hell did I just say in there, huh? I love you. I said I love you, then you go and call me a bitch, so who’s the liar between us, huh? Who’s got trust issues?”

Ran’s face scrunches in distain. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Guess,” you spit back easily.

Well, he isn’t fucking saying it now. Fuck you. Fuck this. This is the worst-case scenario: poor and alone because if you know, he can never get away with his plan.

“Why do you always do that?” he growls with a venom that poisons no one but himself. “Why the fuck are you here then?” Why are you with him?

“I’m here to support my piece of shit boyfriend at a piece of shit family event because Hugh asked me to.”

Nope. The right name is wrong. It sounds much worse than he expected.

Ran doesn’t know what to do with all this sick energy churning in his gut except burn through it. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with his life.

“There it is. There’s the truth,” he yells, leaning into your face. “I know it. You know it. This isn’t going to work. We’re not the fucking same. We’re not even close—“

“I don’t want someone the same as me.”

“I’m a useless—”

“Ran.” Your hands fly to gently land on his face.

“—talentless—“

“Seriously, please.”

“—sack of shit and you—“

“HUGH!” The grip at his jaw slips as he jerks back.

Ran tenses, shoving his chilled fingers into his jean pockets, pushing the wet material in front away from his crotch. He goes awkwardly quiet.

Yelling. He remembers the yelling. He’s been comfortable with yelling for longer than he’s been comfortable with affection.

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up.” You cross your arms over you chest and shiver. “This. This bullshit is why I didn’t tell you, but so what? You don’t have your own money. How do you think Harlan and I started out?”

He gives a look that shouts back everything he can’t put into words.

“You’re not useless or talentless. You’re entitled. That’s all, and you can change that state of being pretty fucking easily.”

“How? What am I supposed to do? Be a houseboy who eats you out once a week?”

“A week? Well, I hope I pay better than that.”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he grouches.

You giggle. You fucking giggle at that. “You started these jokes!”

“You don’t have to rub it in—”

“—just rub it out, huh?”

He doesn’t want to laugh. It’s not funny. His fate isn’t a laughing matter, but like everything else tonight, he fucking fails. A smile twitches at his lips.

“Ok, asshole, you want to be useful? How ‘bout driving us home? I’m freezing.”

He starts to protest but is cut off by a flinging arm.

“If you don’t get in this damn car, you will be helping me balance to pee in those woods.”

“Fucking gross,” Ran whines.

“Yeah, well, your ability to self-access is appalling too,” you jovially clap back, “but we’re working with what we’ve got.”

Fair.

Savage but fair.

He frowns and follows you into the car.

You talk his ear off on the way to his house, but he isn’t in the least bit annoyed. He’s engrossed. It’s all a type of flattery Ransom can hardly fathom: honest praise.

“I was miserably alone before you.”

He wouldn’t have pegged that based on how he saw you at all those events, but now that he considers how you’ve opened up about your frustrations and the exhaustion of being the center of attention, it makes sense. Ransom takes attention away from you. He loves that shit. He doesn’t even care if it’s negative attention. Hide behind his broad back and shine that spotlight on him; he’s game.

“You know what people you pay to be around you—people who want something from you don’t do? Argue. No one has a real conversation. No one has an opinion contradictory to yours. No one calls you out on your shit. It’s so…”

“Boring,” he whispers without thinking.

There’s a long pause until you continue softly.

“No one calls me out on my shit except you, only you.“

Your hand finds his. Though your skin is cold, he’s warmed by the touch.

“So no, I don’t think my money will change anything. If money—mine or yours—were going to change you, it would have done it by now. I mean, sure, you could stand to be less of a dick sometimes, but you don’t have to. I already…”

Your voice trails off, and Ran knows. That’s just it. You love him and he’s a dick, the poor asshole who understands what the feeling is, the one who can’t say it, not on purpose, not yet. The tectonic shift in his life’s framework leaves him uneasy. As wonderful as you are, as perfect as this has been, he has to start over.

He has to build himself up from scratch. He’s been transplanted to an alien planet that he doesn’t have the means to make hospitable. Money was his means to everything. Money provided for him. Money protected him. Money separated him from others.

He never had space for two in his now-demolished castle of selfishness.

“I thought I’d be with someone so different from you,” you laugh without heart. “I’m…glad I was wrong.”

All he can manage is a squeeze of your hand.

“But Hugh, you’re proud of my success, not fucking threatened by it. You let me work, but you also know when I need a break and won’t take one. You’re devoted without being smothering because you have your own damn life, things you want to do. You aren’t intimidated by all this shit in my stupid world or the money. You don’t give a fuck what other people say.”

That’s true.

“You make me laugh,” you say quietly, and though he can’t see your face in the dark of the road leading to his neighborhood, he hears your smile. “You asshole.”

As he turns into the driveway, he glances over and winks. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

He watches that throwaway statement melt you, and then he realizes why.

Ransom trying to do absolutely fucking anything is a big fucking deal, and he has tried. He simply has no idea where to go from here.

He turns off the beamer and makes no move to get out.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Your hand releases his to glide up his arm and lace through his hair, lightly rubbing the base of his neck. “Help me,” you breathe.

“How the fuck would I help you?”

“Hugh,” you cock your head to the side, retracting both arms to brush your palms down the fabric of your (ruined) skirt, “you know damn well you’d like to control my whole wardrobe. You would do far better dressing me for all those functions than I do…and undressing me.”

He knows what you’re doing, but instead of smiling or laughing, he tightens his jaw and huffs. “Can I burn some of your—“ he does half air-quotes “—'wardrobe?'”

It’s so hideous. That one black dress you keep fucking wearing? No amount of dry cleaning will make that look new again. That’s getting flambéed.

You purse your lips. “Donate, but yes. I would consider that a huge help.”

“You’re serious.” Ran’s not sure whether he means it as a question or a statement.

“Yes. I am. Thank you for noticing.” You swivel to open the door. “Now, you can also help get my bag in while I use the restroom.”

The dance of readying for bed becomes you pointing out things you have now that you did not have before him. Taste being one of them, Ran thinks to himself. The important thing is he could say that to your face, but he’s strategically not pushing his luck tonight.

It’s true. Nearly every article of clothing and every toiletry now links back to his insistence that you have nice things that are for you, not just for life in general. You come before the rest of the world; you come before your work. That’s his gift. That’s what he’s good at, and you make it clear: you need him for that talent.

All of these nice things, all these reasons he seems good to you, and all this need for him have Ran feeling some sorta way when you crawl into his bed naked and reach to turn off the light.

He grabs your hand before you make it to the switch, forcing it back to the mattress, keeping you facedown. His heated breath and heavy body roll over you, teeth grazing your shoulder and moving slowly to your earlobe.

“You know what else I’m good for?”

His free hand slips between your thighs and finds what slick you couldn’t clean up. The knowledge that some of it is his cum still inside you makes Ran shudder. How would he ever have lived without this?

You sigh, your mouth falling open at the intrusion, and your eyelids flutter closed.

“Fuck,” you moan, high and quiet.

“That’s right, baby,” he hisses, mimicking your condescension from the car. Oh yeah, he’s gonna ruin more than that goddamn dress tonight.

He takes time to torture you with his fingers, his weight rendering you immobile. Ran sweeps falling hair out of your face with free reign to pepper open-mouthed kisses across the stretch of skin he’s claimed since that very first fuck.

You always knew what you wanted. He never thought you’d truly want him, certainly not for more than a day. After tonight, it’s inconceivable you want him still, yet here you are, burying your face in the sheets to muffle little cries as he humps your ass cheek to get harder and harder.

Good god, why do you want him? He fucked around, he yelled at you, he called you horrible names, he left you for weeks at a time in a foreign country alone, and yet you are here.

Then your words spring to mind. He argues with you. He has opinions. He makes you laugh. He treats you like the independent person you are. He treats you like your money doesn’t matter.

Because it didn’t to him.

Ransom realizes now that you treat him as if his money didn’t matter because it doesn’t to you. Nothing changed when you knew he wouldn’t have it anymore. Not a single thing. Somewhere over the last months, Harlan told you his plan, and the only perceptible difference to Ran was you falling in love with him.

Because you love him. He is so grateful he’s almost angry. You could do better. He can give you better.

By the time you come on Ran’s fingers, he’s completely feral thinking about all those little ways you showed your feelings, all the ways you showed him kind touch is not weakness. You also showed him that touch doesn’t have to be weak to be kind. He can be rough with his feelings for you, intense as they are. He can sink his cock into you, practically screaming that he loves you, too, but the words aren’t spoken.

He presses a thick forearm across your back to keep you pinned. He spreads his legs to widen yours. He thrusts in possessive and messy movements. No words escape. His range of motion is limited this way, but he gets all of your glorious noises. They’ve become his favorite sleep track. It’s hard for him to rest without hearing your happy, panicked pleasure beforehand.

You make desperate fists in the sheets and arch your ass up higher. He sees the unnatural strain in your body, all for him, all so he can have just that fucking tiny bit more of you.

He can’t stay in this position forever though. You’ll never come again like this, and he wants to see your face. The car was dark, but the lamp is still on. He can watch you fall apart with him deep inside.

“Turn,” he orders, enjoying how dazed and shaky you are as you struggle to control your muscles.

You’re a sight. Erratic breaths hardly settle your gasps. Pliable and ruined. Torn to whimpering pieces and stitched back together only to be split apart again.

He drinks in his handiwork, climbing slowly between your legs, delicately helping to cross your heels at his ass, and sinking back into your heat slowly, so slowly, like your teasing in the car.

“Hugh,” you mutter, and fuck, he has never heard you beg.

Ransom has always loved sex, but this is different. He meets your glazed eyes with floundering blue depths and wonders why he can’t just enjoy it as basic sex anymore.

He’s always loved money, too, and although he doesn’t want to take it from you, Ran feels the weight of your charity. Money was his sun, his whole world, but it was not enough. You provide more, warmth that lets him spread out in contentment, light that keeps him from withering.

Money doesn’t need his love; it’s indifferent.

You, on the other hand, you are fucking radiant, glowing and hot with his arm tucked beneath your shoulders to grab at your hairline. He makes you look at him. Your fingernails scratch at his back while your hips grind together.

“So beautiful,” he rumbles, nose almost touching yours. “Come on, sweetheart—“ Ran drops to lave kisses down your bared throat “—one more for me.”

This time, you have no words, only grunting uh and hng as he speeds up. Your noises get higher. Ran gets rougher, a brutal rhythm for a brutal realization.

He can’t hold back when he sees you like this; he’s gonna say it.

He gets close, so very close to breaking, but you fall first.

“Please—ah.”

You fucking writhe beneath him, your whole body spasming like your silky pussy ripples over the sensitive skin of his cock.

“That’s it,” he coos in your ear. “That’s right. Good girl.”

He has to chance meeting your eyes because he wants to see you unravel again. Ran always does whatever he wants.

He slows his hips to intermittent thrusts that sizzle your nerves over and over, pulling his arm out from under you to lift your chin. You’re open for him in every sense of the word, and he is fucked in every possible way.

He’s an amoeba of a man staring evolution in the face.

You’re his. It’s clear in the light that he owns you. He’s earned you, or at least, he’s trying to. That’s a big deal for Ransom Drysdale.

Quivering, your mouth hanging open, his thumb rolling over your swollen bottom lip, he gets one word.

“Daddy.”

Barely a whisper, partly a question, but mostly an invitation. He slides his thumb up into your mouth, only letting you suck on it for a moment before it drags out.

Ran never thought you’d ever say that. He never imagined you’d beg either. You’ve always known what you want and taken it. You have never needed anything from him.

“Please,” you say again, holding your mouth wider still.

Shit. He throbs at the prospect, and he’s too far gone to deny you this. He plants one small peck on your jaw before pulling out and clambering over your hips and chest.

“Ah fuck,” he moans when you suck on one of his balls, stroking him with a smooth and firm grip. “Love y—love your mouth…so much.”

Ran leans against his headboard, hand clamped over his trap in a desperate attempt not to blabber, but you continue. You’re in tune with when he’s ready, when you’ve taken the teasing far enough and he needs to come. His hips stutter to shove himself just a little farther down your throat. He collects his wits only enough not to choke you, muffling a cry.

You’re gentle with him as he loses his absolute shit trying to keep it together, thighs shaking, breath hindered, biting the fuck out of his hand.

“Sorry, I…” he tries.

“I…I—“ he tries again.

He just can’t fucking do it.

Ran digs his palms so hard into his eyes he sees stars. His chest is tight like it’ll explode any second. The relief of orgasm has evaporated instantly, and he just really fucking can’t.

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, shifting up onto your kneels behind him, “it’s okay.” Your warm arms encircle his chest, over one shoulder and under the other, and you pull his own pliable and ruined body toward you.

He collapses back on his heels, leaning against you.

“Hugh, it’s alright.” Your whisper makes his eyes sting. “I know.”

Ran raises his arms to hold your wrists. His head drops to kiss the back of your hand. He still stays silent.

“I know…”

Your bare legs stretch across his lap, and Ransom lets the hand warmed by his mug grasp your ankle gently. You’re off in your own mind, staring out the window of his living room, worrying your bottom lip. He watches while you don’t notice.

Ran never particularly liked the unknown, and after Harlan’s shit last night, he’s off surprises for a fucking lifetime. This, however, this with you, sitting in comfortable quiet, makes him feel perfectly at ease with an unsure future.

For someone so fascinating to him, you’re so normal.

Sure, you’re beauty trumps the view outside, you’re dedicated to your work, and you’re smart enough to run circles around anyone, but…

You’re just you, sitting with a hot drink on his couch in the morning, wearing one of his sweaters again. Could be a sixty-dollar sweater from a thrift shop—or six cents for all Ran knows about secondhand sales—or the six-hundred-dollar one that he stoopidly bought three weeks ago; it doesn’t matter to you. The only thing that matters to him now is who wears it. That garment means nothing without you in it.

You sip at your tea, and he follows, staring at you staring at the world.

You two spoke more about it last night in the dark about everything but that one little phrase that’s eating him alive, a tangled mess of yourselves and the sheets. Nothing has to change except where the money comes from. Ran gets what he’s wanted all along: control over your wardrobe and, essentially, your entire presentation to that world you’re staring out into. He is not, however, permitted to burn your favorite Little Black Dress, but for fuck’s sake he’ll get all of its seams checked and the damn thing refitted. He’s hoping if he makes enough fuss, you’ll choose to toss it just to shut him up.

Fucking rules. Ran hates rules. If you kept standards on par with your New Money maybe he’d follow your rules. He’ll get you in the good stuff: the good house with good furniture, the good clothing with good lingerie beneath, right down to the good wash and lotion.

You can keep your perfume. He likes your perfume.

Yes, he’ll get you into what he wants, when he wants, where he wants, and all that implies. Ransom always gets what he wants…because you let him.

It’s remarkable what you let him fucking do, too.

He slides his hand from your ankle to your knee, knocking you out of your reverie just in time for his phone to buzz.

He holds your legs to him while sneaking a glance at the screen. Linda. Fuck no, he’s not answering that. It’s not Sunday and he’s not ditching anything. Fucking wait. Fucking choke for all he cares.

Ran instead sets his nearly empty mug down beside your two phones on the coffee table and curls up in your corner of couch. You open your arms to tuck him into your chest, and sure, it’s cutesy and gross in a way that should make Ran want to gag, but who fucking cares when he’s this comfortable. He plants a kiss right on your nipple through the knit for fun, feeling you shiver, then listens to your heart.

His phone vibrates again, dancing closer to the stoneware he just put down.

His mother’s persistence is as admirable as it is annoying. Predictably, Ran’s bored by her usual shit and ignores it again.

Instead of pushing up his sweater to wrap an arm around your waist though, he shoves his now chilly fingers between your hot thighs and sighs. His ear rings with the airy sound of your laugh through flesh.

Then your phone dings, and he just fucking knows it’s her. His groaned protest goes unheeded as you swap your mug for the device and bring it to you.

Ran snorts, and you smooth your free hand over his hair.

“Hello—“ there are harsh but restrained mumbles but he can’t make out the words “—Linda, why on Earth would I be with a man the night he yelled at me like that?”

Because you love him, Ran thinks, but he hears garbled disappointment from the other end.

“And after how your brother and his wife acted—” more rushed excuses “—I don’t have time to go around looking for your adult baby. I have work to do and a plane to catch.” There’s obvious desperation in Linda’s tone, but you don’t care. “Goodbye.”

You let your phone drop to the rug, carding fingers through his hair before finishing with little scratches. Your nonchalance is still pure honesty. You wouldn’t waste time on him, not if you didn’t want him, and you did not let him speak to you that way for more than three sentences because you knew exactly how to shut him up.

“Vicious little bitch,” you mutter.

And…in all your perfect, honest, niceness, you called his mother a bitch—not to her face but you’ll get there, Ran’s sure.

He fucking loves you. He is really so fucking in love with you that it’s fucking gross. He’s disgusted and doesn’t fucking care.

After a big sigh, your hand finds his between your legs and moves it to cup your sex. “Where were we?”

Ransom shifts up over you at the same time as you slide beneath him on the buttery leather cushions. His wildly true and blue eyes meet yours with stern sincerity.

He’s looking at everything he ever wanted, and it’s not money. There are all sorts of things he can use to survive, loads of things he can replace, an infinite amount to take, but only one you, only one complete package. Not a thing. Not replaceable. Finite. Earned. New. Fascinating. Teasing. Messy. Sexy. A total hardass badass with a great ass.

Ran lays his hand heavier on that thin layer of silk, possession laced in the caress, and the words just flow right out.

“Marry me.”

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

Oh my god, gang, I can't believe I fucking did it. Truly, this fic has been one of the craziest things I've ever attempted, and honestly, I'm so damn proud. I'm proud that I wrote it, I'm proud that it's over, and I'm proud of whatever reception it gets. I murdered my soul for this and am delighted. Thank you all so much for reading!

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom smut #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff

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atimebombarcarchive · 2 years

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I don’t have a day off until Sunday (like NEXT Sunday) so I’m gonna be kind of sporadic. As always, catch me on discord or ims here, but I’m gonna be sort of limited on actual writing. I’m usually beat down by the time I get off work so it’s hard to get like do more than just put on mindless tv and have a cheap beer lmao. If you’re waiting on something from me that either A: you’ve been waiting a while or B: are really excited for, just shoot me some eyes and I’ll prioritize it. I’m excited for everything but sometimes I just can’t get words out very cohesively.

#OOC / A whole ass yikes #TO BE DELETED / Trash #[ listent hey just said cohesively on ink master or i would have said 'can't do words good' or some shit lmao ]#[ i'm excited for legit everything in my inbox and drafts but also i'm an idiot ]

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 2 months

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Electric Love - Full Chapters

Want early chapters? Read on Ao3!

Chapter 1: Not What I Expected

Notes: Support me by reading on Ao3! Kudos and comments help motivate me to see multi-chapter fics through to the end! I'll be posting announcements for the updates here. Chapters will come out on Ao3 BEFORE tumblr.

Some shit in this will probably be really OOC, but it's fanfiction so who cares? Enjoy!

Word Count: 6090

It was a day in hell like any other. Flashing cameras, idiots who came to Vox with questions below his caliber, the whole works. The overlord was half tempted to cancel any appointments he had after the current debut he was waiting to go on stage for. The only thing he wanted was to go home and eat an obscene amount of junk food while he zoned out to reruns of one of the shitty soap operas that ran on one of his channels.

He could hear the crowd of anxious paparazzi and ass-kissers just past the stage as he pocketed his phone with a deep sigh. Ignoring the concerned crewman who signaled it was time for him to go on stage, Vox grit his teeth and stepped onto the stage, immediately adopting an entirely different persona with a practiced smile.

Cameras flashed and the crowd got louder as people cheered, shoved each other out of the way and paparazzi rapidly fired questions at him with microphones pointed his way. Vox resisted the urge to roll his eyes. You’d think that any experienced reporter with half a brain cell would know the chances of getting a response to such behavior was zero to none, and yet he was so familiar with the approach that it was boring.

Despite his disdain, Vox waved and grinned proudly as he stepped up to a podium in front of a large screen. "Hello my loyal audience and fans,” he speaks with a clear and confident tone. “Today we at VoxTech have quite the exciting announcement to make. For too long, we have been limited to regular television and radio media, well no more! Introducing VoxTube, the new innovative way to stream content and enjoy it at any time.." the crowd cheered and whistled louder at the sound of the word 'streaming' and then they all gasped at once during the reveal.

Vox paused to dramatically look away from the crowd for a moment, his eyebrows arching and the corner of his mouth curling up slightly, before looking back towards the crowd again with a smug grin on his face. "And now.. for the moment you've all been waiting for... the grand reveal!" Vox said as the crowd grew even louder with excitement.

Just as the screen behind him shifted to reveal the new platform, the screen flickered before showing a logo that was very much not his. In fact, it was the logo of the damned rival company that had been a thorn in his side for the past few months. “Oh for fucks, sake, not this again,” he muttered as he looked to the side to see his production crew scrambling behind the scenes to shut down the takeover.

The large screen was supposed to be demoing the “new” platform that was really just a rehashed regurgitation of an older platform. This was supposed to be just a quick cash grab, but now it was just a problem. Vox glared at the stupid halo logo as an unfamiliar, but jovial voice seeped through his speakers like a virus.

"Tired of being controlled? Tired of not being about to tell if your information is being leaked or if VoxTech is brainwashing you?" The voice asked as it revealed distasteful footage of mindless sinners in front of VoxTech products. "Then try Eternal Entertainment. Your anti-Vox streaming and video platform, completely free of VoxTech networks. Take back control of your experience!"

The crowd was silent as the screen played a jingle before going dark. It took all the self-restraint Vox had not to glitch out on the stage when he knew the cameras were still rolling. Immediately, the crowd had their phones out, downloading the new app. Reporter cameras were flashing as sinners got as close to the stage as they could. Microphones were shoved in Vox's direction as a dozen voices asked him about the new competition.

"Ah-ah-ah... Now, let's not be so hasty, hmm?” Vox turned to the crowd with a strained grin. “This so-called 'Eternal Entertainment' is merely slander propaganda! There’s no history, nor a face to the name of this company. There’s nothing to trust! At VoxTech, we care about users' safety and provide hell-wide coverage that this ‘competition’ simply can’t beat." Vox said, trying to convince the crowd that it was a mistake to download the rival platform.

"What about the rumors of Vox programs being coded with hypnotic influence?” A reporter asked as they shoved down another. “This new rival platform promises protection from the threat of corporate dating mining and influence. What do you have to say about that?" A reporter asked.

"Hypnosis? No no, no.. that’s ridiculous!" Vox scoffed, shaking his head as he tried to sound convincing. "It’s already been proven that any rumors about such malware were nothing more than scandalous lies created to discriminate against the powers of tech demons like myself,” Vox said, theatrically shaking his head as he played the card his PR team had him prepared for at all times.

“Look, you know you can trust and rely on the wonderful VoxTech. We have been nothing but honest and transparent... unlike those frauds at 'Eternal... uhh..'," Vox tried to remember the name of the rival platform.

"Eternal Entertainment!" Someone from the crowd yelled. "It already has 300,000 downloads!"

"See? That’s nothing!” Vox laughed with a strained smile. It was something. Low numbers for a platform overall, sure. But to already have that many downloads mere minutes after the hijacked debut? Yeah no, Vox was freaking the fuck out.

The crowd continued to get louder, and Vox felt anxious electricity thrumming through his veins. Everything was getting overwhelming and he only had so much bullshit he could come up with on the spot before he started contradicting himself. He continued to smile as his magic pulsed through the nearby cables of the stage as he searched for anything he could use as an escape. He found a security camera in an alleyway a few blocks over and put on a professional grin. He just needed a closing statement, and he'd get out of there. Easy.

"Well then," Vox cleared his throat and put on his best, most charismatic smile. "I promise you all, this so-called “Eternal Entertainment”, is nothing but a passing fad! It's just a desperate attempt by the competition to try and take you away from the best hell has to offer. The very best streaming and media..." Vox's eyes narrowed as he looked around at the crowd and his smile slowly faded. "Me."

The chaotic crowd suddenly fell silent as his screen flooded their vision with red and black spirals. The sound of a pin dropping would be deafening compared to the frantic clamoring that had filled the space only moments ago as Vox flooded the crowd’s minds with VoxTech propaganda and affirmations. Once he was content, Vox used the camera to teleport to the alleyway while the crowd was left temporarily mindless.

“F̸̛̫̝̉u̴͑͜c̵̮̀ḱ̷̩̆î̴̩͘n̴̯̬͐g̷̮͌̚ piece of shit m̷̨͙͗o̴̲͎͐t̸͉̜͒h̷̙̃e̶͎̦͋r̵̟͘f̷̱̄͒û̸̥ć̵̙ͅḱ̶̡́ę̷͎̄ŕ̵̠̳ś̶̝͗,” Vox swore as his screen glitched hard the moment he was out of sight. He continued to swear and vent out his frustrations as he kicked an empty paint can on the ground next to a dumpster. Fortunately, there weren’t any sinners passing by to witness his tantrum. He wasn’t in the mood to drop another fucker until they were brain-dead.

Once Vox got the rest of his frustrations out of his system, he collected himself and sighed. He pulled out his phone and opened the app store, cringing as he saw the rival app rising in the trending downloads. He closed his eyes and focused his abilities as his power surged through the network and hunted down the source engine running the app. With so many devices accessing the network, he was able to narrow down the location quickly.

"Perfect,” Vox said with a sinister grin. “Now to take care of this problem once and for all."

Any time he’d tried to hunt down Eternal before, Vox had run into dead end after dead end. He couldn’t track down the sinners running the rival software, nor could he track down any of their host servers. The hubris of his newfound enemy would be their undoing. Anyone in the entertainment industry worth their salt knew how easily things could be exposed upon release. By loudly announcing their debut when they hijacked Vox’s presentation, the company had left themselves wide open for him to latch onto the smallest flaws and hunt them down properly.

Vox wanted to destroy the place and make sure that their platform never gained any kind of popularity or power in Hell ever again. He finally pinpointed the location where the platform was being hosted and was pleased to find it wasn't anything impressive. There was no polish. The building didn’t even look like it was any sort of office or official business. If anything, it looked uninhabited. He pulled up the address on his screen to see what he could find out about the location’s history.

The building was a rundown observatory run by some random sinner he couldn’t care less about before one of the biggest exterminations of the past century. The neighborhood the building was near had been so thoroughly gutted by the angels that the entire area was abandoned due to superstition. Well… as abandoned as any corner of the overcrowded ring of hell could be. It was the perfect place for unsavory types to hide in the shadows.

Vox scanned the exterior and his smirk only grew as he took note of the lack of any sort of security. "This will be easy..." Vox said to himself as he locked on to a computer screen he sensed inside of the building. Wanting to get the drop on his cocky competition, he teleported his way inside the old, abandoned observatory. Vox was expecting a potential fight. Maybe guns. Probably a lab full of desk jockeys. What Vox didn’t expect was for his feet to barely touch the ground before he found himself suddenly in agonizing pain. His vision was clouded over with purple smoke and he heard the sound of glass shattering as his entire body short-circuited hard from the overwhelming pain.

Vox screamed, dropping to his knees as his systems malfunctioned from the icy-hot burning sensation shooting across his skin. His face bluescreened and his vision went dark. The last thing he heard as he lost consciousness was the sound of someone swearing and footsteps rapidly approaching him as he passed out.

----

Vox gasped as he felt his systems finally reboot. He ran an internal diagnostic as he sat up to look around, dazed and disoriented. The burning sensation had faded, but his head was pounding. His vision slowly cleared as he took in his surroundings. It looked like he was in some sort of office.There was a large, overflowing bookshelf by an open window and a desk with an impressive computer set-up on it. Vials filled with purple, sparkling mist were scattered around the entire room, all with different labels on them. The space was messy, yet somehow… cozy. At least, it felt more comfortable than the majority of the sleek areas of hell he was more familiar with.

Vox looked down and quirky an eyebrow as he held up the soft blanket draped over his lap. He tried not to think of what sort of diseases could be lurking in the old couch he was lying on as he processed the situation.

"W... what..? Where am I… How did I get here...?" Vox said as he blinked a couple of times, trying to remember what had happened before he lost consciousness. "What the fuck is this place?"

"Oh shit, you're awake!" A voice startled Vox and he tossed the blanket off of him as the door to the office pushed open. He hadn’t noticed that it had been cracked open, nor had he noticed you waiting for him to wake up out in the hallway.You’d been leaning against the doorframe and scrolling through social media as you waited for him to regain consciousness.

You stepped into the room, smiling sheepishly as you pocketed your phone, “Sorry, I didn’t want you to wake up alone and be confused, but it also felt weird to just sit in here. How are you feeling?”

Vox didn't know what to expect when it came to his new rival, but he couldn't have imagined you. Hell was full of sinners of all shapes and sizes. Vox had seen some crazy shit, but he’d never seen someone as… soft as you. You weren’t dressed to the nines or in some wild costume like most. Instead, you were just wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with your hair pulled back in a messy bun. You looked like a burnt-out college student rather than a sinner trapped in hell.

“You know,” you smirk. “I may not have been the one running the campaign against you, but you may have wanted to take that whole anti-Vox thing a bit more seriously before just barging in here.”

"You're... the owner of the rival platform..?" Vox said as his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes and no," you cringe. "Normally, I’d be chasing you out of here with a broomstick, but I might have royally fucked up and have no idea what I’m doing," you admit.

“What?” Vox asked flatly. He had been expecting tech bro assholes who would monologue at him in an attempt to piss him off. He’d been expecting the run-of-the-mill hellish power-hungry welcome he’d come to love tearing to shreds any time someone was stupid enough to try to overthrow him. He expected literally anything else but this.

“It… would probably be easier to just show you,” You sigh as you walk over to your computer and wake up the idle screen.

Vox stood from the couch and crossed the small office to look at the screen. It revealed that millions of sinners had already made accounts on Eternal Entertainment’s new platform, and a decent amount of accounts had already started uploading content. To say it was successful would be an understatement.

"Millions..." Vox muttered under his breath, feeling more and more threatened by the platform as he saw the success it was already having. "How the hell did you manage to pull this off?"

You chuckle, rubbing the back of your head nervously. "Yeah, uh, about that... I don't... know."

"You don't k̴n̷o̵w̵?̴" Vox flipped on you with a spark. His eye twitched as he tried to pick apart your game. Were you bragging? Were you about to threaten him? Were you a fucking idiot?

"Excuse, the fuck, me?” Vox growled as he grabbed your hoodie and pulled you forward. “Do you mean to tell me this was just some fucking pet project or some shit?"

"Yes and no?," you cringed as Vox made it clear how fed up he was getting with that answer.

Normally, you wouldn’t let anyone yank you around, but you’d dug yourself into some pretty deep shit. The guilt that came with that kept you complicit for the time being, but you still pushed his hand off of you.

"The truth is, I… made the platform,” you admit sheepishly. You’re quick to defend yourself as you see Vox’s expression fill with rage. “But I’m not the one who released it and I don’t work for Eternal. I swear!”

“You realize how fucking fake that sounds, right?” Vox growled as he felt his claws itch with the desire to rip you apart.

“Yup,” you swallow. “I understand the shit sandwich I landed myself in very much, Mr. Big Scary Evil Overlord Sir.”

“But,” you say as you pull back your desk chair and pull up your browser. “I have proof. If you don’t believe me after you look at it, you can kick my ass to your heart’s content. But I think you’ll quickly realize I do not know what the fuck I’m doing and I couldn’t have made this shit the way you’re thinking I did, even if I tried.”

Vox squinted at you with distrust as he looked between you and the chair. He grabbed the back of the offending furniture far tighter than was necessary and yanked it out of your hand as he sat down with a grumble.

He started scrolling through the history of your browser and clicked through the tabs you’d left open for him. It looked like you had signed up for some sort of coding workshop and had no idea what you had signed up for. What was poorly disguised as a hands-on tutorial for beginner video game coders to learn how to make mock platforms for marketing was a trap to lure in people to do Eternal’s dirty work. It was the sort of thing that would never pop up on Vox’s radar. It was obviously a scam to the trained eye and a weak attempt at throwing suckers like you under the bus.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” he said as he looked up at you incredulously.

Your face flushed and you looked away from him with an embarrassed frown as you crossed your arms. “Oh fuck off,” you grumble. “I’m broke as hell and it was a free course in an area I need to learn to make my games. It sounded too good to be true.”

“Because it was, dumbass,” Vox snorted as he shook his head and kept digging. He followed the data trail of the domain the workshop was hosted on and pulled up a few unrelated tabs that you hadn’t already pulled up from him so he could figure out how you’d discovered the suspicious content in the first place.

“Hey!” you gasp as you try to stop him.

“If you don’t want to end up an electrified shish kabob on the floor, you’ll let me work,” Vox said, not taking his eyes off the screen for a second as he installed some of his searching software to run in the background of your system.

You huff, watching him continue to dig through your computer before you turn on your heel and walk out. “Just don’t move or delete anything.”

Vox rolled his eyes as he continued his search. He quickly understood where your worries stemmed from. He hadn’t paid too much attention to your mention of it earlier, but it was obvious you were some sort of video game developer. There were folders filled with concept designs, dialogue chains, and amateur attempts at programming. It seemed while you thrived in the creator side of things, your tech knowledge was severely lacking. A quick invasive peek at your bank account showed that your funds were as well. You had big visions for someone with only yourself as a resource.

He paused as he opened a folder in your files that was filled with what appeared to be pictures of you and what he assumed were your friends. His eyes widened as he recognized several faces smiling innocently compared to the lewd expressions he’d seen them make in Valentino’s films. What caught his attention even more was the multiple pictures of you with Angel Dust and his little cyclops friend who had a knack for explosives.

Before he could dig any further into your personal life, several windows popped up to let him know the diagnostics had finished running the background.

Vox’s leg started to bounce with anxious energy as the reports from the programs he’d run earlier started to flood in. He immediately followed the trail of information and found several other websites connecting to Eternal that eventually led him to a secluded forum with all sorts of shady shit. He opened several threads that related to himself and the other Vees and inhaled sharply as he started to read through everything.

"Anti-VoxTech underground network…?" Vox whispered aloud. An anxious thrum of energy ran through him as he tried not to freak out. What if this person used the platform to spread propaganda against him or to leak information from his networks? What if this person was trying to destroy him from the inside out? His paranoia began to intensify and he felt small sparks licking at his skin when suddenly, a coffee mug was thrust in front of his face.

He looks up at you as you hold out one of two mugs to him. He takes it slowly from your hand as you look at him unimpressed, yet expectantly. “Thanks…?” He says slowly as he is once again thrown off by how much you didn’t match his expectations. He looks down at the liquid in his hand before looking back up at you distrustfully. For all he knew, your weirdly casual demeanor could have all been a trick. Poisoning him in the afterlife wouldn’t kill him, it’d just be a major inconvenience. Even so, he hesitated.

“Oh for fucks sake,” you roll your eyes as you realize why he was hesitating. You stick your pinky in his cup and pop it in your mouth to show him it was safe. “It’s just hot chocolate,” you huff before you take a sip from your own mug. “I was going to make one before you just zapped your ass in here and it felt rude to only make one for myself.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked the bewildered overlord over. “Shit, but your face… Can you even…? Wait no, that’s also rude. Fuck.”

Vox burst out laughing as you verbally tripped over yourself. Yeah no. There was no evil ploy here. You were just a weirdly endearing dumbass.

“I can drink,” Vox grinned as he finally lifted the cup to his lips. His eyes widened as he took in the unexpected taste. While he could eat and drink, he unfortunately had lost his sense of smell with his afterlife form. He wasn’t expecting the slightly sour tinge of raspberry syrup that mixed with the more standard flavor of the drink.

You watch him curiously and his eyes lock onto yours in an instant. Your face flushes and you turn away as you try to not-so-smoothly play over the fact that you had been trying to see how his mouth worked. “S-So, did you find anything?”

Vox sighed and set his mug down as he turned his attention back to your computer. “Yes, actually. Surprisingly enough, I’ve found more on your very shitty and outdated computer than my team has in the past six months.”

He ignores your offended protests about the quality of your setup as he looks through one of the forums. He ignores the way you lean into his personal space as you look over his shoulder and read the comments yourself.

“I just don’t get why there’s this large of an interest in working around my products,” Vox grumbled as the two of you read through the conversations.

You raise an eyebrow and peer down at him. "You and the Vee's don't exactly have the best rep with lower-class sinners. It may be hard for a big powerful dude like you to comprehend, but believe it or not, some people like their privacy."

Vox frowned as he begrudgingly sipped on his drink. He would never admit out loud how much it was soothing his nerves. “We’re in hell,” he reasoned. “Surely dating mining which pornos the average sinner watches to increase ratings and production quality isn’t the top concern these idiots have.”

You roll your eyes and sigh as you sit on the edge of your desk. Your hips carelessly pushed some things back, but you paid it no mind. “It goes deeper than that and you know it. Hell, I know it and I think this entire experience has proven how much of this shit flies over my head.”

Vox’s eyes drift to the vial you bumped with your hip and he pauses as he considers just how harmless you really were. While it was clear you weren’t the most program-savvy, Vox hadn’t forgotten the abrupt welcome he’d gotten when he tried to sneak in. Whatever that mist he’d been enveloped in was bottled and stashed all over the place. He still had more digging to do.

Sensing the shift in Vox’s attitude, your eyes follow his gaze and you cringe as you tuck the vial out of sight.

“So you’re not a complete idiot then,” Vox said as he placed his empty mug on the table and stood over you.

“That’s different,” you mutter as you shrink in on yourself and avoid looking him in the eye.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Vox hummed as his eyes sharply searched your features like a shark drawn to blood in the water.

His clawed fingers wrap around your jaw and he slowly makes you turn towards him. His grip was firm and the sharp edges threatened to break skin, but he was also somewhat gentle, after all, you had gotten him this far. A looming threat if you suddenly decided to stop cooperating.

“You deleted your visits to those forums in your browser history before you let me access your computer,” Vox said slowly as he watched your every expression carefully. You were avoiding his eyes, which meant you knew what he was capable of. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say slowly as you try to keep your breathing even. You couldn’t afford to panic. “I probably just accidentally cleared it when I was wiping my cache or something. Aren’t you supposed to do that every now and then, or something?”

Vox quirked an eyebrow, looking completely unimpressed. “You’re not a good liar.”

“Oh fuck off,” you frown as you look up at him without thinking.

Vox grins and his eyes immediately spiral as he tries to pull you under his spell. You gasp and for a moment he thinks he has you… only for the spirals not to reflect back at him from your own eyes.

“What…?” Vox blinks as his grip on you loosens.

You smack his hand away and dive out from under him as you try to get away. Vox growls, whipping around and grabbing your arm before you can slip out of the office. You let out a startled yelp as he slams you against the wall and twists your arm behind your back.

“What the hell is going on? Who are you, really?” he interrogates as he twists your arm harder.

It didn’t make any sense. You were a walking contradiction. He genuinely didn’t sense any malice directed at him from you. Your search history barely skimmed anything relating to him. If anything, you had done more research on Velvette and Valentino, which he had to admit, in any other scenario may have bruised his ego a hair. You accidentally helped a rival company launch an attack against him and let him search your system without any hesitation, yet the second he locked in on those vials, you changed your tune completely.

Not only that, but you were somehow able to resist his hypnosis. He’d seen the faintest flash of connection in your eyes that told him you weren’t immune. Yet you had somehow managed to slip out of the hold he’d tried to cast over you within seconds.

“Let me go, asshole!” You shouted as you tried to slip out of his grasp. You hiss in pain as his sharp claws dig into your arm and draw blood.

“I don’t think so,” Vox growled as he tightened his grip and drew more blood. “What the hell is in those vials? And why were you on those forums in the first place? Tell me or I’ll rip your arm off.”

You bark out a laugh despite the fear, “With those fucking twigs? I’d like to see you tr-AH fuck! Alright alright!” You relent as he slams your head against the wall with his other hand.

Vox loosens his grip ever so slightly, but watches you like a hawk.

“Everything I’ve told you so far is true,” you start with a sigh. “I don’t know jack shit about most of your area in things, but I only found the workshop because I was on the forums.”

“And why would you be there?” Vox frowned. “You don’t have anything my company would care about on your systems. You’re a shit liar, but get any ideas of telling me it was for privacy out of your head.”

Your eyes dart and he can tell you’re trying to think of a way to weasel out of telling him the truth. Whatever it was, you really didn’t want him to know. Which meant he needed to know.

“Tell me,” Vox growled as he pressed you harder into the wall.

“V-Valentino,” you whimpered as the pain started to wear down your willpower. You weren’t exactly accustumed to this sort of experience despite your time in hell. You kept your head down as much as you could. You only dared to kick up dust for one reason and you’d done your best not to get caught for it up until now, but you had been careless.

“What?” Vox blinked as his grip relented.

“I,” you open your mouth, only to cringe. You really didn’t want to tell him, but if you double died without at least trying to pull something, it would only leave the very people you were trying to protect in deeper shit. Vox would figure it out after killing you anyways. Spilling the beans and trying to figure something out in the process was your only hope.

“The mist wasn’t mean to hurt you,” you say slowly. “I’ll talk, so fucking let go first.”

Vox watches you distrustfully, but releases your arm and steps back. He stands between you and the door, so he’s willing to play along if it means he’ll finally have the full picture.

“I don’t… pay much attention to hell’s politics,” you sigh. “I don’t care about power, I don’t care about overlords, but I do care about my friends.”

For the first time since Vox had gotten here, he saw something familiar flash in your eyes. The dark twisted bloodlust he’d seen in most sinners. “I don’t use my powers much,” you say as you walk over to your desk. “I’m not really trained to fight like most people down here. I’m cooped up in here most of the time, so it’s not like I’ve ever really had a reason to start shit.”

You pick up a vial and hold up your other hand as a small portal opens above your palm. “This is about all I can do,” you say. “I had a buddy who liked to research sinners abilities and I didn’t really care if he looked into mine.”

You had to bite down the fond smile at the memory of Baxter’s pestering. “He discovered that at low enough levels of activation, magic could be collected like a liquid or a mist with all his fancy tech shit. Again, you know how much of that flies over my head.”

Vox looked between your hands and nodded silently, watching you carefully as he waited for you to put together the pieces for him.

“Using the residue of my abilities, he tried to replicate that love potion shit you guys sell. He wanted to see if he could recreate it and then make a repellent.”

Vox’s eyes widened as he looked at the vial and it finally clicked. “It’s a repellent against Valentino’s magic.”

You wave away the miniature portal above your hand and nod with a frown. You hated every part of this, but at least he hadn’t killed you yet. “Like I said earlier, there's a high demand for slipping out under the Vee's control."

“Is that how you resisted my hypnosis as well?” Vox asked carefully.

“No,” you shake your head. “That’s something else entirely. No schemes or any fancy shit like that involved there.”

“Then why did the mist hurt me?” Vox frowned.

“Well, for starters,” you smirk at the memory. It had freaked you out pretty bad in the moment, but after the shit Vox just put you through, you kinda loved that he’d gotten his ass handed to him. “The guy I told you about was here and was trying to make a new batch. You literally teleported in the middle of us making the shit and knocked over the batch we’d been producing so it was heavily concentrated.”

“Secondly, you’re around Valentino all the time. When is that guy not blowing his slut smoke all around you?” You cross your arms.

“That…” Vox thought back to how often Valentino smoked his pipe around him. How used to seeing the pink smoke around him he’d gotten. He didn’t have a sense of smell so he was entirely immune to the effects. So much so, he had no reason to notice how it was completely seeped into his clothing and probably coating his entire body in an unnoticeable residue.

"Yup," you sigh. "If I had to take a guess, then that’s why.”

"And the reason you’d help your friend make this…” Vox trailed off as he remembered the pictures he’d found on your computer. You were friends with a lot of Valentino’s sex workers, including Angel Dust. Vox was a business partner, a friend, and sometimes a lover of Valentino. Valentino was notorious for the abuse of his sex workers. An abuser of some of your closest friends.

You frown, turning away from Vox, your body language acknowledging him as a proper enemy for the first time since he's broke in. "You get it now.”

He knew about Valentino and his history of abuse towards sex workers. He had seen his behavior first hand and knew the moth’s behavior was vile and repulsive. But the worst of it was never directed at Vox himself. Some of it, yeah, but… Vox hadn't really cared about anyone else. He had better shit to think about.

"I see…,” Vox hummed as he picked up another vial off the floor and twirled it between his claws. You really could benefit from some basic cleaning around the office. “So you’re planning on beating him at his own game." Vox said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a mix of suspicion and admiration. "Clever... very clever.."

You cross your arms, watching him sharply as you wait to see what he'll do about it.

"You got the information you wanted." You say flatly. He knew who was attacking him with your software now. The Eternity shit he’d found on your computer was a solid lead. However, he now knew of your efforts against Valentino. You weren’t a fighter, by any means, but you were prepared to protect yourself if you had to.

Vox's eyes narrowed as he looked at you in a new light. Your lack of personal interest in politics and the standard hell powergrabs had him intrigued. He wondered just what you’d be capable of if you did play the same game that everyone else did. It was clear you were resourceful and crafty, yet you directed those efforts towards something so… mundane.

"You’ve proved useful enough so far, and I thank you for that. Depending on your next answer, I may even let you keep your insides where they belong. So, let me ask you this..." Vox said, continuing to look at you with his eyes narrowing. "If those experiments are unrelated to my influence entirely, then how are you able to resist my hypnosis?"

Whether he meant to or not, Vox just handed you the key to your survival on a silver platter. Your eyes widen and you try to hide the excitement at the opportunity as you level your best poker face. “It’s pretty simple actually,” you say as you inspect your nails nonchalanetly. A bit too theatric, perhaps, but you were trying to play it cool. It didn’t matter that you weren’t actually succeeding.

“Hypothetically, I may or may not have discovered how to counter your hypnosis,” you hum as Vox’s eye twitched. “Hypothetically, I could sell that information or simply just post it to the Eternal forums. I’m sure everyone would love to know how not to get sucked into your marketing schemes.”

"You want to make a deal," Vox realized, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly and dead pixels flickered to life under his lip. This just got so much more interesting for him.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox #electric love series

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azurevi · 1 year

Text

wild roses

pairing: leona x gn!reader, heavy jack & reader (reader = prefect)

summary: ace and deuce’s matchmaking plan for valentine’s day goes wrong, and both you and leona realize that something needs to be changed in your relationship. (fluff, secret relationship, bad matchmaking, possibly ooc leona 😔) 9k (chonky)

note: HAPPY VALENTINE’s DAY!!! ok. first of all, jack is there for like, a majority of the fic because i felt bad just using him as a plot device and decided to write more about his interaction with reader. but it’s still somehow centered around leona and reader. secondly, this is like really messy but i didn’t have time to flesh out everything i already had to cut down on what i originally planned 💀 hope y’all enjoy it anyways ^^

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Ace.” Deuce rubbed his chin, looking between the redhead and the wrinkled paper titled ‘ The Foolproof Matchmaking Plan: 2023 ’. He wasn’t sure if he should be more concerned about the content or the implication that this could become an annual thing.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Ace was pacing and gesticulating. “This will work for sure, because we already know for a fact that there’s something going on between the prefect and Jack. All they need is a little push!”

“Do we though? I mean, we could’ve misinterpreted everything. Not to mention how much trouble we’ll be in if the plan falls through.”

“Sure, both of them are going to whoop our asses if it fails, but if it works, we will appear in their wedding speeches. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. If you really need concrete evidence, turn to the back of the paper.”

Deuce did as told, and found another list scribbled on the page.

Undeniable signs that they are into each other (in case Deuce acts like an idiot and doubts my plan)

The prefect is always spending time at the Savanaclaw dorm. There must be a reason they choose it over Heartslabyul, where TWO of their best friends reside.

Last time we went over, we literally found a Savanaclaw uniform mixed in the prefect’s laundry. They're already dating in all but name!

Asked the prefect last time what their type was: tall, strong, has a secret soft side. Who else fits all the criteria if not Jack?

They're always talking among themselves when we’re hanging out as a group.

They always have this stupid lovesick look on their faces whenever they get a notification. I bet my lunch money they're texting each other.

“T?”

“Trein confiscated it before I could finish writing that line.” He scratched his head. “The point is, the signs are right in front of us! Or are you so blind that you can’t see it?”

“I'm not blind-”

Ace sighed. “I know that you don’t have a lot of experiences when it comes to romance, but still-”

“Wrong! I had a whole group of admirers back when I was… ugh. Nevermind, it's not something I'm proud of. I am capable of picking up signs of romantic interest, and my expertise tells me… that you are right. They are interested in each other!”

How gullible. Ace had to stifle his urge to laugh. “I am honored that you deem my opinion valid, oh great romance expert. So are you on board or not?”

Success was pretty much in the bag, but he asked nonetheless, watching as Deuce struggled with his conscience. Finally, with a stern look, he nodded. “I’m in, for the happiness of my friends. When do we carry this out?”

Ace straightened his spine, snatching the paper out of his hands and straightening it. With a sly smirk, he said, “Tomorrow, Valentine’s Day.”

———

The school had this ‘candy delivery’ thing going on for Valentine’s Day, and you happened to have garnered enough secret admirers that the organizers had to pack your sweets into a basket. As soon as you'd gotten it from your locker, you hugged it close to yourself and rushed into the room owned by the Gargoyle Research Society. Malleus was the only one who used it anyway, and he’d long ago given you the permission to enter as you pleased.

Anticipation coursed through your veins as you rummaged through the pile, looking for one specific note. You weren’t sure whether Leona had participated in something like this— chances were he would've considered it ‘an asinine way to help cowards confess their feelings’— but it didn’t stop you from hoping.

After putting aside a few chocolates and their atrocious pick up lines, you finally found the one you’d been looking for. It was a single candy wrapped in a yellow wrapper, and it looked like the kind of stuff teachers gave out to kindergarteners who answered questions in class.

A note was stapled around it. You unrolled it to find a familiar handwriting.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Although this event appears to be an asinine way to help pathetic cowards confess their feelings, I reckon that I should still give you something since you mentioned looking forward to it. I will meet you at Ramshackle tonight, 8pm sharp. — Leona

With a smile curling your lips, you ripped the wrapper and popped the candy into your mouth. The fruity sweetness coated your tongue as you pulled your phone out.

The line rang for a few seconds before it got through. “Hello?” He husked.

“Good morning, is this Mr. Kingscholar?”

“Cut it out.” It sounded like he was shuffling in bed. “I take it that you’ve received the candy thing?”

“Yup. And the invitation. Have you just woken up?”

“Thanks to you, yes.”

Rapid knocks appeared in the background, and he cussed under his breath.

“Is that Ruggie?” You chuckled.

“Yea. He’s about to break the door. I’ll see you tonight, ‘kay? Don’t forget about it.”

“As if I would. I’ll make sure the coast is clear when you arrive.”

“Yea,” he said with a hint of hesitation, as if he was taken aback by your words. “Okay. Bye.”

Having to sneak around and meet up was nothing new to you. From the very beginning, you’d agreed to keep your relationship under wraps.

While his brother was usually preoccupied with more crucial matters, Leona was still a royalty, and words spread like wildfire in this school. People were bound to talk if he were to be seen with a romantic partner, and they were probably going to tell their mothers, who would tell the other mothers, on and on until the media caught wind. Then the chamberlains would get involved, eventually alerting his brother.

Knowing Farena, he'd probably make a fuss of you, demanding a dinner and a private audience. On top of that, all kinds of reporters would be knocking on the door, trying to get a candid photo of you two. If that happened, his chances of getting a good sleep would drop to zero. Or worse, they would bring unnecessary burdens to you.

As for you, your reasons were simple: your friends would never leave you alone if they knew of your love life. Ever since they'd noticed the different air around you, they'd been not-so-subtly trying to figure out whether you were seeing someone. They were definitely going to tease the living hell out of you once they figured it out, so you’d rather dodge all the troubles.

Plus, it was pretty nice to have this quiet little thing going on between you, just that it's hard to pretend like you didn’t want to throw yourself at him in the corridor sometimes.

Really, it’s nice.

Despite your intention to maintain discretion, so far two people had already blown your cover. The first was Ruggie, no surprises there. The second was Jack, who walked in on your napping session at the botanical garden. (That one’s on you, you’d totally forgotten to be discreet.)

Both of them were trustworthy friends, so it didn’t bother you. But if someone like Ace or Deuce was to find out…

A chill crawled down your spine.

As if on cue, you heard their voices outside and hurriedly stuffed the note into your pocket.

“Where did they go?” Deuce asked.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe they went back already?”

“Let’s just call them.”

You scrambled to mute your phone, but Deuce was faster. The ringtone penetrated the silence in the hallway, and not a second later, the door was opened.

“Hey, guys.” You smiled innocently.

“What are you doing here?” Ace poked his head in, a knowing look dawning on his face. “Ahhhh, I see. Are you perhaps looking for candies from a special someone?”

“Nope.” You stood up and hung the basket around your elbow. “I was just checking to see if one of you guys would give me something. The result is heartbreaking, by the way.”

They shared a suspicious look.

“Allow us to piece your heart back together then. We have a mission from Sam.” Deuce fished out a piece of folded paper from his jacket. “Gotta pick up something from town.”

“Great. Let’s go.” You wiped the invisible dust from your pants. It was always a treat to be able to leave the campus, and the trip might give you an opportunity to buy some flowers for tonight's date.

“Nuh-uh, not so fast.” Ace threw his arm around your shoulder. “We are going to make a stop at Savanaclaw.”

———

Ruggie was the first to greet you as you stepped out of the mirror, a large sack swung over his shoulder. He looked like Santa Claus. “Morning! Are you looking for Leona?”

“Nah, we’re here for Jack.” Ace said.

“Then he should be in his room.” Ruggie pointed vaguely behind himself, and your friends headed over, leaving you two alone.

“You’re quite the popular hyena, aren’t you?” You jutted your jaw at the bag.

“This? Nah. I just collected them from people who don’t like sweets.” He eyed your basket. “Any chance you’re one of them?”

“I mean, I’ve already got the one I want, so…” you handed him the whole thing, and his grin grew wider. Grim would've whined about it if he'd been here, but he was too busy getting his fill at Kalim’s.

“Touche. Between you and me, Leona actually spent days ruminating on what to do for Valentine’s Day. You didn’t hear it from me though.”

Thank the heavens no one was around to catch your lovestruck expression.

Speaking of the devils, Ace and Deuce promptly returned with Jack. Trailing behind by a few steps was a grumpy Leona. His eyes spotted you first, softened around the edges, before returning to drill holes in the back of Ace’s head.

Jack greeted you as soon as you were all standing together. “We’re running errands for Sam right? Let’s get to it.”

“Yes-”

“Not so fast.” Leona spoke over Deuce. “I’m coming. Jack can stay.”

“Woah, Sam’s permit only says our names, so technically you can't be off schoolground.” Ace waves the paper in the air, passing him a pointed look.

“I don’t care. There's no way I'll let you trouble magnets go out on your own.”

“Relax, we’re not that unruly. Plus Jack's here, he’s our voice of reason.”

Jack nodded firmly. “That’s right, I’ll make sure they don’t fall out of line.”

The irritation on Leona’s face was indisputable. Something was definitely going on in his head.

“Be real here, why would you even want to come with us? You don’t care if we got into trouble.” Ace scrunched his face into a frown.

Leona stared down at your red-haired friend before his gaze moved to you, unreadable yet solemn. Perhaps he was anxious that you couldn’t make it back in time for the date.

“Don’t worry, we will be back before it gets dark.” Your addition seemed to be making things worse for him. He clicked his tongue and swiveled around, tearing himself away from this mess.

After some contemplation, he bit out, “Fine, go have your fun.”

With that finally settled, Ace and Deuce ecstatically looped their arms around Jack’s and your elbows, as if preventing you from running away, and hopped into the mirror. The last thing you saw was Leona mumbling something to Ruggie and the drop of the hyena’s jaw.

———

The townspeople took Valentine’s Day a lot more seriously than you’d expected. Bakeries had all kinds of pastries displayed readily to the lengthening queue, and customers swarmed into flower shops in hope of grabbing the last bouquets available. Even booksellers decided to join in on the fun, slapping discounts on all romance novels and comics alike. Just around the corner, a few buskers were playing some sappy love songs on their guitars in front of a thin audience.

“It’s like a whole festival here.” You commented as you weaved through the crowd with Jack. He was tall enough that you didn’t have to worry about losing him in the waves. Meanwhile, Ace and Deuce were keeping up from behind, engrossed in their own conversation.

“I agree. I didn’t expect Valentine’s Day to be such a big deal.” He said.

“You’re not the kind of people who think it unnecessary, are you?”

“Not really. You can express your love any other day, so it’s kind of pointless from that point of view, but I guess it’s a good opportunity for people to confess their feelings.”

“I also like to think of it as a reminder for people to show their love more bravely.” You caught sight of a heart-shaped chocolate the size of a cauldron through a shop window. “...Though it can also become an unfortunate tool for capitalism.”

“I assume that you will be celebrating?”

You sensed what he was hinting at. “Yup, after some convincing. By the way, is it just me or are Ace and Deuce acting a bit weird today?”

“I thought I was the only one.” He looked back briefly, though he couldn't spot anyone with their distinctive hair colors. They were probably just distracted somewhere. “They barged into my room and told me to dress up. Who dresses up to run errands?”

Evidently he went along, seeing as how he was wearing a white dress shirt instead of his usual comfy t-shirts.

“You don’t think they’re pranking us, are they?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them.”

Just then, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You tugged at Jack's sleeve to pull him to the side of the road. It was a rare text from Leona.

Leona: where are you?

You: just got into town

You: good thing you didn't come along, you would've gagged at the amount of lovey-dovey stuff here

Leona: so you don't know

You: ?

He spent a few seconds typing and re-typing. In your wait, you looked up and found your two friends still missing.

Leona: they're trying to set you up with jack.

What.

What the heck.

Your thoughts sped up. The picture started coming together in your head. No, it made sense. Them insisting that Jack came instead of Leona, literally telling him to dress up? 'Allow us to piece your heart back together'? All of their actions verified Leona's words.

You: damn, ur right

You: wait, how did you figure it out?

Leona: they told me in my face when they ran into me just now. said that they were going to be matchmakers and put an end to your 'endless pining'

You: -_-

So that's why he was acting all frustrated back there. You stole a glance at Jack, who was trying to call your friends, albeit to no avail. He was definitely not going to like what he was about to hear.

You: at least we now know of their absurd plan. i'll tell jack

Leona: k

You: are you upset?

Leona: no. even if i were, i would only be upset with your nosy friends

Leona: just make sure to come back on time. you were the one who wanted to celebrate vday after all

You: roger that :)

"Was that one of them?" Jack asked as you pocketed your phone.

"Nope. You can stop calling, by the way. They're not going to answer."

He frowned as you pulled the shopping list out of his hand. "Why?"

"Because they left us alone on purpose. They're trying to play cupid." You waved the unfolded paper in front of his face. He read the content carefully before sputtering. In his head, he tried to put two and two together. The moment it all clicked, his shoulders tensed. "No way."

It was an actual shopping list from Sam, stamped by him and all, but the items were absolutely ludicrous, not to mention obvious. Roses, jewelry, plushies… and the definite proof that he was in on it, or was at least held at gunpoint as he drafted the list: the line ‘Treat yourself, little imps! Everything’s on me’ at the bottom of the page. Despite its absurdity, it was also a binding term. If you failed to get everything as instructed, he had the right to report you for leaving the campus and skipping some classes without a justified cause.

Not that he would, right?

As much as you hated to admit, there didn't seem to be a way you could get out of this mess.

"What do we do?" He shook his head. "I don't even know how they got the idea of bringing us together. And you were supposed to spend the day with Leona, not me. This is so messed up-"

"Hey, it's okay. Leona already knows. He was the one who told me."

He blinked at you blankly. "Is he going to come after me?"

You let out a laugh. "Not on my watch. Look, how about we just go along with it and get everything on the list? Then we will head back on time and I can have my date with Leona. After that we can dangle Ace and Deuce upside down outside Ramshackle."

Jack turned to the crowd, donning his deep-in-thought look. You could almost see the cogwheels moving in his brain, trying to find a way to avoid this. There was none. He shook his head at last, "Alright, let's get the stuff as soon as possible."

———

After deciding that you would buy the roses first, the two of you ventured through the streets to find a less packed flower shop. As you strayed farther from the center of the town, the number of pedestrians dwindled, and soon you could walk side by side without being bumped into and feeling your shoulder dislocate.

The silence between you was not awkward, but it was stretched, begging to be filled. Jack had always had the habit of using his words sparingly, believing that actions spoke louder, but this was different. You could tell that he was on edge, eyes darting around as if trying to catch every passing shadow, hands stuffed in his pockets, tail swishing stiffly.

He was uncomfortable. And he was acting like he wasn't, because that's what he'd been saying for the past thirty minutes. Eventually you gave up, opting to protect that tense little bubble surrounding you.

As much as you'd like to argue that this wasn't how you usually interacted, you realized that you couldn't. Truth was, you seldom hung out outside of a group setting, and even when you were alone, it was usually for matters like how he could help cover you up as you left the group to find your favorite lion, and homework.

To be frank, you didn't know that much about Jack.

A humble little shop was chosen at last, but even it had quite the amount of customers loitering around, most of them attempting to conceal their last-minute anxiousness. You assumed that they must've forgotten to buy something beforehand.

"How may I help you, lovebirds?" A tall woman with baby-blue glasses greeted you enthusiastically. Jack tensed up like someone had just stepped on his tail.

"Would you happen to have red roses?" You asked instead.

"Oh, of course. How many would you like? A lot of couples go for a hundred, but the really earnest ones go for as much as two. You two look quite sweet together, perhaps you would–"

"We're not," Jack rushed to say. "We're not a couple."

"Oh," the shopkeeper squinted at you. "Ohhh… it's like that, huh? In that case, you should take a look at this guide," she pulled out a laminated sheet and slid it across the wooden counter.

It was a comprehensive guide to the number of roses and all of their meanings, from one to twenty, then skipping to hundreds and thousands.

"Who would buy three thousand roses?" You whispered to Jack.

"I don't know," he said. "How many should we get?"

Most of the numbers carried love declarations, but there was one that fit. "How about thirteen?" 'Friends forever'.

"Looks good."

"Alright, we'll get thirteen," you gave the sheet back to the lady. She checked your choice briefly, looked up, lifted her glasses with her index finger, then nodded meaningfully.

"Alright, thirteen red roses coming right up. You can fill this up while you're waiting." She handed you another white card and a black marker to be put together with the bouquet. The vaguely printed words instructed you to write some 'sweet words for your beloved'.

When you turned to Jack for help, he looked like he was going to run out of the shop at any given moment.

"Hey, is everything alright?" You questioned. "And don't lie to me, I can tell."

He ruffled his snowy hair, averting his eyes. "I apologize. It's just… I'm not very comfortable with all this coupley stuff."

You nodded slowly, contemplating his words.

"It's not you, don't worry, it's just…" he shut his eyes, trying to escape the embarrassment. "You're Leona's partner, and I'm just a friend. It feels wrong to do all this with you."

Oh. Oh.

Shit. You almost felt bad for not figuring that out by yourself. Jack, even after everything, still looked up to Leona as an accomplished role model. Not to mention he was his dorm leader and a literal force to be reckoned with. He probably thought that he was crossing some lines.

Maybe he was. Perhaps there were unspoken rules among beastmen. And lions were known to be protective of their own pride…

When you thought about it this way, it wasn’t hard to see why he felt like a fish out of water at all.

You tapped the marker against the counter. You never imagined that dating Leona would inadvertently cause Jack to be extra careful around you, but now that you knew, you were determined to thaw the ice. “How about we treat this as a normal, friendly hangout?”

He arched his brow, clearly finding the idea of pretending you weren't surrounded by romance-centric decorations all around you unrealistic.

"Valentine's Day is just an excuse to promote love anyways, and love is not limited to romance, you know?" You took off the cap on the marker and started scribbling. "I can write some sweet words for you as a friend too. For one, I admire your unerring determination and your strong morals. There you go."

There was still uncertainty shimmering in his eyes as he took in your written words, but eventually he nodded. "Fine, I'll give it a try. I admire your bravery and courage."

"Aw, thank you, my dear friend." You elbowed him playfully, and he stifled a grin.

"Here's your order, darlings!" The shopkeeper came back with the roses hugged by a pink wrapping paper. It looked like she was trying very hard not to peek at what you'd written down on the card. You paid for the flowers and passed your thanks before heading out to the next mission.

“The best pastries in town… should we go to the pâtisserie Vil mentioned before?” Jack suggested. You agreed in a blink; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to crown it the best among its competitors in the world.

Though on second thought, it didn't seem like a feasible idea after all. A dense group of exasperated customers had blocked the front of the shop, so much so that you could only see the boss' hands waving in the air like a drowning man's. Everyone's voices overlapped, but you could make out some common protests: not enough, waited for a long time, unfair, et cetera.

"-ys. GUYS!" The boss' squeaky voice somehow managed to calm the ocean of complaints. The whole street dropped to silence at his command. "We are really sorry, but this is the only one we have left!"

"Then you should've baked more!' A gruff voice yelled.

"Maybe you should've ordered earlier!" The boss countered. "Anyways, I know y'all aren't going to leave me alone anyways, so to be fair," he made an air quote. "I'll let y'all fight for it. Whoever is the best at arm wrestling gets the last piece."

You turned to Jack. He bobbed his head knowingly.

Immediately, people got into groups and looked for any kind of flat surfaces– the outdoor seats of a nearby restaurant, the top of the pâtisserie's empty display case. Two men were laying on their stomachs on the gritty pavement. The crowd dispersed like ants under a rock, desperate to get that final piece of cake.

Jack grimaced. "I fear Valentine's Day is driving people insane."

"Hopefully not us." Bowing forward, you tried to take a look at the pâtisserie's sole survivor. An opening between two struggling contestants revealed that it was a piece of fruit cake.

"Pear compote." Jack blurted out.

"What?"

"That's pear compote dripped on top."

There was a distant… longing in his eyes. "Is that what you like?"

"It's my favorite. It's just the right amount of sweet, it's versatile, and my mum used to make it all the time. Everyone in my family likes it, in fact. I wish I'd brought a few more jars with me."

"Well, I'm sure we can get you the cake. I don't think there's anyone who can beat you in arm wrestling."

"No. There's one."

You crooked your brow.

He tipped his head back, staring at the sky as he relieved the memory. "Back then, Leona beat me effortlessly even after I used my unique magic."

"Whaaat." You dragged out the word. "For real?"

"I couldn't believe it at first too. It was humbling, to say the least."

"I bet I can beat him though." You mused.

He exhaled sharply. "This is a battle of physical strength, not running head first into troubles."

"Unprovoked. But it's also a battle of wits. There's quite a few of his weaknesses I can use." The random theory took a contemplative turn as you started counting the cards up your sleeves: Leona might look like he had a rock for a heart, but you pulled a rare reaction from him the first time you called him your king. Caressing the back of his ears always elicited honest shivers. Would a smothering look or a wink catch him off guard? Hopefully he wouldn't mind you experimenting on him.

"You're probably one of the very few people who can say that." Jack shifted his weight to his other foot, briefly scanning the progress of the contestants before adopting a low voice. "I hope you don't mind me asking, it's been on my mind for some time now. How did you actually end up together? I'm aware that you got close after the Magift tournament, but the rest was a mystery… Nah, forget it. I shouldn't violate your privacy."

"I don't mind sharing," you reassured him. "Obviously it wasn't easy. He barely cared about me at first, even after the tournament, but I was determined to get to know him. There's no shell I can't crack, after all. He's strong and fierce and self-assured, but I also sensed that there was a brightness inside him that got snuffed out over time. I'm sure you're aware too.

Anyways, the more we opened up to each other, the more I realized that he's not who he seemed to be on the surface. He's caring in his own way, and he's unfaltering when he has his mind set on a goal. His words may appear sharp, but he's not unsympathetic. Despite his arrogance, he's not so full of himself that he can't admit his faults. Where no one noticed, he was the one who found out that I was feeling out of place here… I got to know so many new sides to him. To be honest, I wasn't planning to fall in love, but this kind of thing just happens, like soft knocks on the door."

A tall woman marched past you, cursing loudly after losing her game. You stepped aside, realizing now that Jack had gone quiet. "Sorry for rambling, I got caught up in myself."

"Don't apologize. I think that it's sweet," there was a hint of a smile on his face. "You looked like my sister whenever she sees a pink morning sky just now. It's great to have someone you can rely on wholeheartedly. I'm sure he feels the same about you."

You were certain of that too. "Aw, stop. You're making me embarrassed." You punched his arm without a concern for your force; he probably didn't even feel it.

The various battles seemed to have narrowed down to a few. The boss was standing in front of two straining men, faces red with blood, veins bulging on their necks. A battle cry forced its way out of one of them, only for him to be overwhelmed immediately. His body was loose as his boyfriend dragged him off the ground.

"Jeez. Alright, is there anyone else?" The boss asked. The victorious guy smashed his fists together, shooting silent warnings at anyone who was bold enough to even consider challenging him. No one moved.

"Me." Jack stepped forward, and you did a small, encouraging whoop from behind. The man glared into his eyes. He wasn't a lot shorter than Jack, and their physiques were similar, but you had faith in your friend.

"Start whenever you want, I'm getting sick of this." The boss mumbled.

Jack bowed his head respectfully before positioning his elbow on top of the counter, flexing his fingers. His rival mirrored him, assuming a strong grip on his hand.

It started without a countdown, like they managed to communicate with facial expressions alone. All around you were held breaths as they struggled against each other–

–for one second. Jack immediately slammed the man's arm down like he was flipping a book.

"What the hell?" He cried out, holding his wrist in disbelief before making a run for it, as though in shame.

"Congrats, you've won the cake!" The boss feigned enthusiasm. When the bystanders booed, he resumed his annoyed scowl, "Go home! It was a fair game!"

"That didn't go as expected," Jack told you as you watched the cake enter the safe protection of the corrugated box. "But I'm glad we won."

"All thanks to you. I didn't even get to chant my slogan. We will, we will, rock you-"

"Please stop."

"Okay."

Laughter bubbled out of you a second later. Even he failed to hold in the titters that slipped past his lips as he shook his head. The ice was melting away already.

Jack volunteered to hold both the bouquet and the cake, so you took on the role of navigation. "Next up, we need to buy jewelry. I know a place."

It was a chain store of a brand Vil had not only done promotion for, but also personally approved of, so the quality was sure to be high. But so was the price.

The two of you stood silently in front of the suited employee who went by Eris, staring unblinkingly at the silvery chains in the vitrine. The price tags glared back at you, who looked like you'd wandered in by accident.

"I was going to propose getting an expensive one since it's not our money anyways, but even the cheapest earring is worth ten times my life." You whispered.

"I wouldn't compare you with an earring, but I agree with the prices."

"May I help you?" Eris asked for the third time since you'd entered the shop. 'We'll have a look around' probably wasn't going to work anymore. "Any particular kinds of accessories you're looking for?"

The thing was, neither of you wore that much jewelry anyways. It would only get in the way of his training, and you could barely spare money for your friends' birthdays, let alone luxury like this. But throwing it into your drawer with other miscellaneous trinkets was just sinister.

"How about rings? We have promise rings for couples–"

"No, thanks."

"How about necklaces?" You suggested, which earned a satisfied look from Eris as she left to find you some styles.

"Why necklaces?" Jack asked.

"Well, neither of us is going to wear it, so I thought, why not give it to your cacti? You can put it around the pot. It'll be like dressing them up."

“A designer necklace for my cacti?” His brows knitted into a disapproving frown. “I mean, they deserve nothing less, but still-”

“Then it’s settled.” You replied. Eris arrived just then and ended any argument that might be forming in his head.

Most of the necklaces came in pairs, and each pair held no significant differences between one another. Sure, the charms varied in shapes and colors, but they were all just… argent.

Your attention landed on the pair on the fair right. Each half had a hand-shaped ornament that fit into each other when put together. The rest were pretty much the same: two halves of a heart, two halves of a cat, the same design but flipped over.

Your mind wandered. Adjacent to you was another couple admiring the opal bracelets hugging their wrists. Streaks of azure swirled within each crystal, as if there was a vast sea contained in every single one.

You really weren’t a jewelry person, yet once in a while, this kind of thing still had you indulging in daydreams. And only daydreams. It would be stupid to wear matching accessories anyways. It defeated the purpose of the whole secret relationship thing.

"In that case, I'll have this one." Jack referred to the pendant with a leaf-shaped charm. "Just one, thank you."

Eris looked bewildered, but she shrugged it off, picking up the chain and shelving the others away. It still hurt when you had to fish out all the money you had and then borrow some from Jack, but the knowledge that you could claim it all back gave a little relief to your throbbing wallet.

Jack pocketed the velvety box. "I hope it looks good with my cacti."

"Of course it will, I have immaculate taste." You wiped the tip of your nose with your thumb.

Time flew past without a sound. You'd left school mid-afternoon, and now the blue sky had already been painted over with an amalgamation of warm hues. Your phone showed that it was already six. "We're kind of against the clock. Let's grab the last item and head back."

Your last stop was the local gift store, where a bunch of plushies and toys were displayed. As expected, the dolls were all related to love in all kinds of ways. There was a pink bear holding a love letter, two frogs with their hands sewn together, an elephant hugging a pillow in the shape of a heart. The only ones exempt from the influence of Valentine's Day were at the back of the shop. They were graduation plush toys and one that specifically said 'Happy Mother's Day'.

"Once again, this isn't my thing. I feel like you would be more interested…" he trailed off, spinning around to look for you. "Prefect?"

"Jack! Look at this! It's adorable!" You waved him over. In your hands were two avocado dolls, one with the seed in the middle and the other without. "Oh my goodness. And this!"

You picked up two monkeys that had their arms wrapped around each other. The fluffy fur seemed to melt away under your touch, and their hands could reach all the way around your waist.

Truth was you'd already made something for Leona, but these monkeys? It was love at first sight. He was always complaining about your inability to stay over in his room anyways, so this could work as the perfect substitute. Even though he wasn't the type to hug plushies as he slept (it would probably end up on the floor), it would still remind you of each other. No one would even notice. It's not like people could just wander into his room. And yours–

Your dorm was basically a public area by now. There were times when Sebek and Epel invited themselves over and scared the living hell out of you because you'd left your phone inside with Leona's contact on the screen. Every time you had an impromptu sleepover, they made a competition out of stealing your plushies, except Sebek who had his own Malleus cushion. Deuce might not take note of the new plush member, but Ace was observant to a fault. You could already hear his voice yelling 'why do you have this monkey plush and where is the other one' in your ears.

"Then let's buy it." Jack said.

You shook your head ruefully. "Ehh, maybe not. Now that I think about it, I don't really have that much space left on my bed."

"I thought you'd started invading Grim's?"

"Yea, but still." Returning the monkeys to the shelf, you turned around and started searching around again.

If Ace was observant, then Jack was eagle-eyed, always detecting details in the most unlikely places. It wasn't difficult for him to notice where your attention had drifted off to back at the jewelry shop either.

He cleared his throat. "So, about you and Leona. Have you decided how long the secrecy will go on for?"

You petted each plush you walked past, ruffling their heads. "Not yet. We'll see."

"Right," he turned the words over in his head, looking for a more natural approach. "But you’re both fine with the arrangement, obviously.”

“Of course.” You had to be. After all, you had your own reasons for keeping up the confidentiality, and you’d hate to be involved in any royal scandal Leona had mentioned. Even if the rules weighed on you at times, it was still better than attracting attention, right? “I think so.”

All this time you’d been walking on tip-toes believing that it could do more good than harm, but a short trip down memory lane proved otherwise: That one time you'd had to hide Leona in the closet, his legs had gotten so sore that you'd spent the whole light massaging the stiffness away. Your forehead was swollen for days after running into a tree while staying out of Rook’s watchful eyes. All those times you’d had to swallow the words you wanted to say to each other in public, a much needed embrace reduced to a pat on the shoulder.

It was supposed to get Ace and his naive accomplice off your back, but look where you were now: entangled in a web of misunderstandings, not only did it not work as intended, but you also got Jack into this predicament.

“...Back home, my brother always picks fights with my sister,” Jack started. “He’s at the age where he feels the need to act like an ass in any given situation. He’s stubborn about it too. Never apologizes to her afterwards. They could spend days ignoring each other.

Any time it happens when I’m around, I try to figure out how they feel. My sister thinks that he probably hates her, that’s why they never see eye to eye. Meanwhile he does feel sorry, but he doesn't know how to get over his ego."

"Typical siblings."

"That's right. And then I sit them down and make them talk to each other."

"And it works?"

"Like a charm. Effective communication can pretty much solve half of the conflicts in the world, but it's hard to take the first step, especially when you don't know what the other person is thinking."

You let his words sink in, turning them over in your head. If you were to lay your heart completely bare, it would certainly be singing a different tune. Perhaps a chat would really make things better instead of pretending that nothing was out of place.

"You have a point there." It wasn't hard to grasp what he was trying to say, but if he wanted to be roundabout about it, then you weren't going to bring it to light.

The two of you came to a stop in front of a felt box holding five keychains, a sweet rendition of a puppy family. He picked it up carefully. "Would you mind if I got this? My sister has always liked collecting keyrings like these."

"Sure. You're never beating the best big brother allegation, are you?"

A proud smile dawned on his face. "Hopefully not."

By the time you’d ticked off the very last item on the shopping list, night had already fallen.

“I just realized something awful.” Jack said from behind. He was still holding the roses and cake, while you had the rest. “You didn’t get anything at all. I mean, the cake and the necklace, and even the recipient of this bouquet-”

“Hey, don’t worry. I was the one who ‘invited’ you to hang out, wasn’t I? It’s only fair that I treat you to something nice. Even though it’s Sam’s money. It’s the sentiment that counts.”

His face faltered for a second, then he assumed an earnest expression. “In that case, I promise to make it up to you, not just for the gifts, but also for the amazing company.”

"You're not so bad yourself, Jack."

The mirror portal was situated on a nearby hill, giving you the perfect view of the town under your feet. Streams of people weaved through the streets, the uniform structures and red roofs now adorned by pink banners and decorations.

A strange sense of satisfaction filled your chest knowing that you’d completely defied what Ace and Deuce had planned for you guys. Although this wasn’t planned, you still had an amazing time roaming around town.

“Let’s head back now.” Jack said. You sent him a nod before stepping through the mirror together.

———

It was 7:45, and you were pacing around your room.

After returning to the campus and claiming the sweet thaumarks from Sam, Jack bid you goodbye and returned to his room trying to juggle all the rewards in his arms, earning envious glares from passing students.

That was half an hour ago. In that time you’d managed to rush back to Ramshackle, got dressed in the most formal outfit you could find in your humble wardrobe, and walked ten laps around the house trying to practice what to say to Leona when he got here.

Hey, remember when we agreed to keep all of this under wraps? I kind of don’t want to do that anymore. Yea, the press could be after us. Yea, my friends are going to be a pain in the ass. No, I still want to go public with this.

What if he felt that it was not worth the trouble? You trusted that he would respect your choices, but still-

Rapid knocks on the door pulled you back to reality. You all but stormed down the stairs and rushed to the foyer, swinging open the door.

There he was, clad in a simple black button down shirt and pants, his hair gathered in a high ponytail. In his left hand was a bouquet of roses, and in his right, for some reason, was his broom.

How did he even manage to look perfect in everything he wore?

“Happy Valentine’s Day, kipenzi,” he stepped in and met you half-way with a kiss, trying to lean in for another when you pulled away. You almost forgot that you’d been anxious just a while ago.

“Happy Valentine’s to you too, mpenzi,” The nickname never failed to make his tail swish in contentment. You beamed as he handed you the roses. The card indicated that there were 33 in total, and if your memory served you right, it symbolized ‘I love you’ with affection.

“How was your day with Jack?”

“It was great.” You answered briefly, pulling him into the lounge by his hand.

“Just great?”

“If you must know, we walked around town and bought tons of stuff. We decided to treat it as a friendly hangout.”

“I see.” He said tersely, willing his jaw to unclench before you could see it.

“You/re not getting green-eyed, are you?”

“They’ve been green my whole life, sweetheart,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“Touche.” You headed to the sofa and picked up a huge paper bag. “Ta-da! Here’s something I made you.”

Placing his broom against the wall, he reached inside, expression shifting when he felt the soft fabric. Slowly, he pulled out the content and let it fall to the floor soundlessly.

It was a crocheted blanket big enough to roll both of you into a burrito, the pattern mimicking a chess board. The only detail you’d tweaked were the king pieces, which had been turned into two snoozing lions.

He spent a good minute observing the blanket, as if trying to take in every single detail. Finally, he asked, “So this is why you couldn’t stay over at my room for the past two months?”

“Yea. It could’ve taken me a month, but I had no prior knowledge about crocheting, so I had to start from the ground up.”

“You could’ve just commissioned someone, you know. Would’ve saved a lot of trouble.” He said mindlessly, running his hand down the smooth yarn.

“Maybe I should take it back then-”

“Hands off, it’s mine.” His face scrunched up, arms holding the blanket close to himself. During winter, his family had sent him more than enough blankets and duvets, all made with the most exquisite of fabrics, but this might just outshine all of them. “And it’s unique this way. So… thank you.”

If you were going to start the conversation, you reckoned that this was the perfect timing. "There's something I've been-"

"Wait a sec. I have more surprises." He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders so that only your head was uncovered and grabbed his broom. "Close your eyes."

You did as told, pulling the blanket up to shield your face. Some distance away, you heard the light switch flip. "I didn't know you had this many things planned."

It sounded like he was talking from a great height. "You didn't think I was just going to give you roses, did you?" Something cut through the air. "Though it did take me some time to figure out what to do, so you better appreciate it with all your heart."

"Roger that." You paced around in an aimless circle, listening to the faint winds trailing behind him as he flew around the lounge. For a moment you wondered if he was cleaning the place, but it was highly unlikely that he would volunteer doing so.

"Okay," the next time he spoke, he was right in front of you. "You can look now."

The lights were out, which normally meant the room should be cloaked in darkness, but it was different today. On the roof were densely scattered glow-in-the-dark stickers piercing the dimness, mimicking stars. A few of them extended to the walls, as if the sky was melting. Some were larger in shape, others mere dots, but together, it looked like the whole galaxy had been moved inside.

Your mouth fell open as you took in the constellations spread out in front of you. There was seemingly no word that could encapsulate the feeling welling in your chest.

"I promised that I would show you the night sky of Sunset Savannah before, but the opportunity hasn't presented itself, so this will have to do." He leaned in to observe your face. "Hey. You're not crying, are you?"

"No." You croaked. Half amused and half concerned, he reached for your arm and pulled you into a tight embrace.

Being held by Leona never failed to make you feel like the most treasured person in the world. His fingers threaded in and out of your locks, pressing kisses to the crown of your head as you hid your face in his shoulder. You leaned into him, so close that your hearts might as well melt into one.

Leona Kingscholar had always shone in every room he was in, but nothing came close to the version of him only you got to see. His love came in both showers and drizzles, both intense and tender. It blew you away and made the lining of your stomach feel warm. He was the island you'd go to when you felt like drowning, the person you could call home in this scarily foreign land. Sometimes it felt like every bad thing would go away so long as he was holding your hand.

He's undoubtedly the best thing that had ever happened to you, you thought, and you wanted to love him wildly for that. No hushed secrets, no retreating in the dark. You wanted to braid his hair and let the world see. You wanted to let him rest his head on your lap while you worked. You wanted to pass him tooth-rotting notes in class, and you wanted and wanted and wanted. You wanted to liberate all of these hopes and desires.

There was no way you could hide what you felt for him when it was brighter than all the stars in the universe combined.

"I need to talk to you about something." His voice was muffled in your hair.

"So do I, actually." You tore yourself away, wiping the warm trails on your cheeks.

You followed him and sank onto the floor, shifting closer so you could get under the blanket together. He fixed his gaze on the chair behind you for a second, looking like he was trying to declutter his mind, before returning his attention to you. "What happened with Jack today has got me thinking about things between us."

Your breath hitched. It was like he was reading your mind.

"Most of the blame goes to your dumb friends, obviously. But I believe that some misunderstandings stemmed from us trying to keep everything a secret. And I know I said that it was troublesome to just go public and stuff, which I still agree with, but the truth is…" he ran his hand through his hair and it sprang back into place. "You're worth it. All of it. The press, the nosy halfwits in this school, my family, they are nothing compared to how much I absolutely adore you. Screw the troubles. I want to let everyone know that you're mine, and that I'm yours." A beat later, he added, "Plus, if something like this happens again, I'm not sure I can keep my cool."

He drew a deep breath. "The only question left is, what do you think?"

"I think-" you chuckled, feeling the previous nervousness dissipate. It's funny how effortless it was for you to be on the same page. "I think the absolute same! I've been pondering about how all this secrecy has been keeping us from each other, and I just despise that. Nothing is critical enough that it should be able to make me compromise my feelings..."

His grin grew wider and wider as you rambled on and on, until he had to cut you off with a kiss right there, laced with relief and unbridled joy. You couldn't help but smile into his touch, relishing in the new found solace. It was like your heart had found air again.

Under the starry sky, Leona rested his head against you, hand finding yours and giving it a small squeeze. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Oh yea, you want to make this a competition?" He quirked his brow, and before you knew it, you were going back and forth without a regard for the passing hours.

You might not have been able to spend the entire Valentines' Day with him, but you knew that there was still tomorrow and the days after that, enough for you to tell him all the ways you loved him as much as you wanted. It would always be like this– bathing in each other's presence, letting the love drape over you two like a blanket.

Only this time, you wouldn't have to hold back anymore.

———

"Hey," Trey walked up to Cater, who was walking to and fro in the middle of the corridor. "What's this emergency you were talking about?"

"Trey! Thank the Queen of Hearts you're here." He pulled the taller man towards one of the dorm rooms, where the door was slightly ajar. A stern voice could be heard from within, though it was too faint for him to string together a coherent sentence.

"Jack asked me to let him in because he had something urgent to say to Ace and Deuce, and it looked like a storm was verging on his face so I complied," Cater moved aside, signaling Trey to take a peek. "He's been in there for a good while, and it doesn't sound like fun."

Trey let out an exasperated sigh. He'd spent the past few days baking cookies and chocolates, and he could frankly use a break. Still, as the vice dorm leader, he couldn't just turn a blind eye when the underclassmen got into trouble. Bending down, he squeezed one eye shut to get a clear view of what was going on inside.

Jack was standing in the middle of the room, arms in front of his chest, tail moving stiffly. The usual seriousness of his expression was mixed with an edge of irritation.

On the edge of the bed sat Ace and Deuce, who were as still as twin popsicles, hands clenched on their laps and head low. Deuce looked especially guilty, like he'd just done something terrible like eating Riddle's tarts. Ace was mildly annoyed, but unable to utter a retort.

"...totally inconsiderate and disappointing behavior… the result could've been egregious!"

Trey blinked, then backed away from the door. "We'd better give them some more time. They've done something egregious ."

"Wow. That's a big word. I wonder what exactly they've done…" At Trey's disapproving squint, Cater waved his hand dismissively. "Don't look at me like that! Of course I won't use our cute first years as topics for gossip~"

The two made their ways back to their rooms then. Another thirty minutes later, Jack finally ended his speech in resignation, rendering the two culprits and frankly inadequate cupids speechless. In his deep breaths, he picked up the faint fragrance of roses lingering on his clothes, and let out a soft sigh.

Hopefully it was enough to repay all the presents you'd given him today.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #sie writes #leona x reader

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razypie · 8 months

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Colors of Different Hue (You) || Gun Park x Reader

cw: a bit graphic in one of the scenes, wc: ~5.2k summary: gun is a lovesick idiot but doesn't want to admit it third-person pov, fem nurse!reader, ooc gun (my delulu version actually), and reaally fast-paced a/n: heavily-inspired by 'Hotarubi no Mori e' story-telling, so there are lotsa flashbacks hehe

"Oooh, look who’s got a date today!" Goo giggled as he peeked back from the wooden porch facing his partner's backyard.

Gun almost had uncharacteristically gotten on his knees in front of the chairman to let him off on this specific day, and now this weapon freak's presence was about to wreck the day before it started.

"Not now, Goo. Why the hell are you even here?" Gun fixed his tie in front of his wide half-length mirror, scooped a generous amount of gel, and brushed his hair back neatly.

"Oh, come on, I was getting bored. Samuel wasn't picking up because of his Workers' Affiliate BS, and Logan has exams this week. For real? That guy should drop out already, it's no use."

"So you decided to stroll your way here to annoy me instead?"

"You got that right!" The blonde eyesore jumped up and hopped his way on square concrete blocks to one of the bamboo trees lined up along the fence.

"Whatever. You better leave the house before I do, or I'll stick that bamboo shoot you just pulled up your ass." Gun warned his house's intruder, who reached out to one of the young bamboo plants.

"Not everything is a katana, you anime samurai wannabe." He picked up his sunglasses and black coat and made his way to his Porsche parked in the space opposite the bamboo trees.

"Says the guy who bought a Japanese mansion in the middle of nowhere." Goo huffed a childish pout. "Jeez, I was gonna use these for cooking snacks, but you just had to give me a disgusting picture."

He gave the man in the car a side glance and sighed. "I was doing you a favor here, man."

The morning sun radiated a warm glow on the dark sheen of Gun's sunglasses as he swiftly drove through the outskirts of Seoul. The wide stretches of green pastures emerging from both sides of the road whistled a soft tune into his ears.

Unlike most people who want to live in extravagance with cameras shoved in their faces every single moment, there were times when Gun preferred to settle in a remote area, far from the reeks of city lights, where he could be alone with himself, his thoughts, and his hard-earned (i.e. bloodstained) money.

But of course, the nature of his work required Gun to be by his employer's side around the clock else his grand funeral wouldn't be much later.

So he made the best of these hand-picked moments when he could persuade his boss to grant him off-days.

Gun has the whole map of Seoul memorized from his monthly crusades and made that mental map involuntarily take the wheel and let his mind wander off for a while.

He pulled his car to a stop in front of a flower shop. As he got out, he noticed a gray umbrella hanging on a covered shed's railing.

'That bastard still owes me for that… and a shit-ton of money for losing in every bet.' But then again, he wouldn't have met Y/N if Goo didn't break his umbrella.

'Hah. No way I’m telling him.'

It was a stormy night with distant rumbles of thunder.

His eyes landed on a small figure of a lady in front of him and a bit to his right; the two were taking refuge under a mono-sloped roof of a bus stop.

Even with thick layers of bright-colored clothing enveloping her figure, Gun noticed her shivering with her arms crossed to her chest gripping her shoulders.

The man had nothing to do anyways beside impatiently waiting until the rain wanes, and everything else around him was too dull and gray to entertain him. So, his eyes remained on the peculiar lady, the only other color he could see; a color that penetrated even the darkest tints of his shades.

He examined her.

'The hell is up with this woman? It's not even that cold.'

Gun turned up an amused grin at the memory as he stopped over at a flower shop. He grabbed his coat and caught a whiff of lavender-scented detergent he recognized as Y/N's.

'Oh. It's her again.' Gun recognized the woman from the other day who had now crouched down to check his injuries. He tried telling her off but to no avail.

"I knew you were a gangster five meters away, dumbhead, but that doesn't mean these 'scratches' (as you called them) will heal themselves… I'm only here to do my job."

'Okay, lady. Be my pest.'

He yielded and rested his back against the brick wall at the end of an alleyway where this meddlesome woman found him.

A light trail of lavender caught his nose; 'That's odd…” his eyes lingered on the lady. “for someone with a sharp tongue and flashy style.'

Now that she's much closer with her hair tied up in a bun, Gun could examine her more closely. Unlike yesterday, she's in full white get-up now: a clean set of white scrubs matched with white shoes.

'A nurse, huh. Probably an intern because I'm looking at a fucking dwarf.'

…

"Shoot."

Apparently, patching Gun's 'scratches' made her miss the last bus.

"That's what you get for doing your job."

"Oh, shut up."

Droplets of pouring rain halted the bickering that was about the start.

…

Gun had to admit though, she did a stellar job mending his wounds.

Ego not permitting him to tell her his thanks, he nonchalantly dropped his thick coat over her head instead while noticing blotches of rain wet her uniform.

Recalling her trembling the other day, the self-proclaimed gentleman also offered to drive her home.

Gun's eyes lingered down his coat and figured he hadn't picked it from his wide selection of corporate attires to wear since Y/N returned it; he might've intentionally kept it there to let her fragrance rub off on his other clothes… or not, only he and God knew.

A bell chime signaled his entry to the shop, and a lady from the opposite end greeted him with a welcoming smile.

After paying for a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, Gun bowed and turned his heel to the wooden-framed glass door.

The cashier gave him a concerned look but settled with a short smile.

Gun decided to walk the rest of the way, paced long strides along the stone-paved sidewalk into the busier streets of Seoul.

Turning his head towards ordinary stalls he used to turn a blind eye to as flashes of Y/N’s twinkling eyes with her hand around the doorknob and an arm linked to his tattooed one surfaced.

A grin crept up to his cheeks.

Since their first encounter, Gun found himself driving past the hospital Y/N works at. Later on, it became a routine. Random nights when he stops by and waits for her at the bus stop in front to chat about each other's day or to give her a ride home, especially when it's raining.

But of course, he took account of his schedule. He's a busy man, and his spare time, scarce; all of which however, have been filled in by Y/N the more they hung out:

Mondays to Thursdays, he would take the longer route to HNH Building, to have a cup of morning coffee (or so he says) at a restaurant near the hospital. Y/N would walk in, couple of squints later, then wave at him.

"What a coincidence!" she exclaims. "Yeah." he replies dryly.

Fridays to Saturdays, Y/N's off-duty schedule. She would go to the public library to study for her weekly moving exams. It just so happened that Gun also reviewed for GED exams there (the real coincidence).

Surprisingly, Gun is good at memorization, so is Y/N at general trivia. It was effective mutualism.

Sundays were the wildcard. One is busy. Or both are busy. If neither, Gun would accompany Y/N to a random place she keeps going on and on about for the entire week or they would chill in his house (whether he wants it or not).

It's an actual miracle that Goo didn't catch them hanging out, really. Although, he had suspicions… getting a sweet trace of lavender in his partner's house when he barges in without notice (you don't just put "sweet" and "Gun" together). Or when Gun's mood swings become less and less frequent despite the blonde's incessant annoyance sprees.

Goo was itching to bully him for it, but he needed concrete evidence—the ones that would put the jackpot horrified look on the demon's stoic face.

Gun needs to be more cautious around his pest of a partner.

It won't be too long until Goo sees through his lies of checking into brothels on Sundays.

Ah, about that.

It's been ages since Gun set foot into one.

…

Huh.

Guess he found Y/N a more entertaining distraction from work than any bent back he broke.

They just… instantly clicked after their first encounter–like a string of Fate wrapped each of them in a disgustingly cute bow as a present for each other.

They were inseparable. One was the other's breathing space: from Y/N 's tiring hospital duties and from Gun's major crew business.

They were each other's pieces in the puzzle they didn't know were missing.

Friends... they would call each other. But were they really? Might've been even more if they knew what the force that attracted them to each other actually was.

(Ugh. Fate was having none of this folly.)

Gun stifled a laugh. A lot has happened in the short time he met her, yet there's still a lot to be unpacked for this lady.

"W-wait!" Y/N huffed, holding up a hand between her and Gun. "Not the one to use gender cards here but… go easy on me here, man. Clearly, you have the men's advantage in stamina." Y/N pouted at Gun with what seemed like an attempt to do a puppy face, but she only looked like a constipated shih tzu to him.

He raised an eyebrow but maintained his stance.

"Oh, cut the bullshit, woman. You run around the hospital 24/7. Sparring should just be a piece of cake to you."

"Still–"

"You think those harassing fuckers were the same brats you fought in middle school and go easy on you because you're a girl?"

His eyes scanned her from head to toe. He sneered.

"I bet bruises aren't the only thing they'll leave you had you let your guard down."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

"Anyway, I don't know why you're suddenly so adamant, teaching me how to fight." Gun didn't answer, earning a glare from Y/N.

"Besides, I only wrestled those wimps back then to keep them from bullying other kids. That doesn't mean I'd actively engage in one now," She put her hands up in the air in surrender and crossed her legs to sit down, to which Gun loosened up.

"...unlike SOME people."

"You did last time at the park." He jeered.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. Those two creeps kept pestering me, asking for my number. I also texted you, but you left me on read. Did it look like I had a choice?" She eyed him daggers.

"Could've at least used your strength for something genuinely helpful, you sadist."

"Which I did, your punches were getting slow, and you couldn't defend yourself for two whole minutes when I got there, so I finished the job for you. Good work lasting for even a minute."

He was lying, of course.

As soon as he read her message, he sped to the location she sent. When he arrived, the fight had just broken out with Y/N caving in one of the creeps' faces with her clenched fist. He saw her give the other one a solid kick on the ribs and counter back with a knee to the face.

He could tell she had fighting experience, despite sluggish, with those limbs; and he just watched her fend for herself until she wore out…

He cringed.

Yeah… he is a sadist.

"You're right. Let me make it up to you by making you tea then." She used that as an excuse to end their training for the day as she stood up and went to Gun's kitchen.

The latter watched her back disappear in the hallway.

With how their conversation went, it seems Y/N isn't interested in becoming his successor at all. She already rejected him before he could even offer it.

"I guess beating people up for money isn't her 'cup of tea.' It's way easier than having a hospital suck your life out."

…

But not long after, when they were on their way to a cake shop Y/N wanted to check out, some weak-ass thief was also on the loose and unfortunately chose Y/N to be his target.

Yes, that's right. Unfortunate for the thief.

Long story short, Y/N's hospital will get another patient.

Gun looked at the disfigured face of the stupid fucker with beaming pride at what his student is capable of (Y/N dislikes the idea of Gun calling her his student, though).

He then turned to his masterpiece with a pleased grin and noticed her with arms across her chest while shaking.

"What are you doing?" No response; she was uttering something with her eyes closed.

"I am safe; I am strong."

…

She seemed shocked.

'Eh. It'll pass. I taught her enough to deal with punks like these.'

The sun's afternoon rays peeked from the thin linings of thick-smoked cumulonimbus clouds. It dulled the shadow of the man walking on copper-bricked pavement.

Gun heaved a deep sigh. A couple of months ago, he was laser-focused on managing their debt-collecting business, then working as Crystal's bodyguard and finding a successor.

That felt ages ago somehow. His recent calendars have been him dealing with Y/N's antics. Not that he was complaining, he found it amusing to know a woman he could see eye-to-eye on things. No strings attached.

There was something about how she looked at him; neither a hint of fear nor looming intimidation.

Just warmth.

Warmth that melts the iciest of his glares. A soft smile that ebbs his turbulent chaos. Words that tear down his barriers, strip him off his 'Shiro Oni' persona, leaving him with just plain Jonggun Park.

He's also seen patterns of her behavior: the way her eyebrows arches up when she looks at him, the glimmer in her eyes when talking about her pets at home, her nose scrunching up as she recalls medical acronyms, her fingers curling up as she tucks strands of her hair behind her ear, her pouty lips and rosy cheeks when he teases her (his favorite). He memorized them all; and still she continues to surprise him with more.

Stitch that with mood swings and annoying outbursts, and you have Y/N!

How can a woman be so complex yet so... normal?

'One moment she gets mad when I keep my clothes all over the place in my own house, but then when I visit the hospital, she's the one who was all over the place herself with stress and panic...'

"The hospital was packed when you came in; it was just bad timing. I'm perfectly calm most of the time." She huffed.

That didn't convince him one bit.

She continued to weave questions into his mind.

'What was this weird fixation on this lady? How very unlike me to have interest in anyone beyond their physical strength. When did I start to…'

She does have a slightly above-average physical strength; he wouldn't have batted an eyelash at her if he didn't see potential.

Was that the reason why he was so drawn to her, though? Did Gun ever really sit down and mull over his odd relationship with the quirky Y/N, who is living a life opposite to his?

…

Oh.

...

That IS the very reason he got attracted to her; the fact that she's composed of a lot of things.

Unlike him, who lived the script laid out for him, she wrote her own.

Unlike him, who has only ever seen the thick crimson stains on his shirt, the light gray smoke he exhales from his cancer stick, and the overall black-and-white world he's caged in, hers was made up of different shades of life, the different hues of people she met, and different flavors of memories she savored.

All of them painted a picture of a woman that spilled color onto anyone she touched--including him.

She showed him what lies beyond his dog-eat-dog world.

"Dude, tell me. You're actually blind, aren't you?"

'Ah, shit. Here we go again.'

"Your eyes were gouged out in a fight and you spent years training with your remaining senses, didn't you? Now, you're hunting to seek revenge on those who wronged you."

Y/N gasped at her eureka moment. "I cracked the code."

"Cool backstory you've built there, but no. How the fuck could see the road if--"

"Or maybe you are a famous celebrity! They always wear sunglasses to hide their identity."

"Ever heard of famous celebrities getting into gang fights?" Gun knows one, though. But Y/N doesn't.

"..."

"There's your answer."

"Ditch the sunglasses then, you hitman try-hard." She pouted in dismay and looked away with her crossed arms on her chest.

"It baffles me how you still wear them even in training. Even now, you look more like my bodyguard instead of a friend. What the hell?!"

"Then, deal with it."

"Gah! You insufferable prick!" Y/N buried her face in her arms on the table.

Gun stared at her small figure with the very eyes that tickled Y/N's curiosity.

He had long forgotten what his inborn eyes looked like… those wretched eyes.

He'd rather gouge his eyes himself had he failed to unlock his unconscious sense.

He hated those eyes.

He hated how they made him look vulnerable and inferior.

He hated how "soft" they were and made people deem him incapable at a young age. Gun eventually made them eat their own words.

But most of all, he hated how they began to resurface around Y/N and became more frequent the more they hung out… he didn't want her or anybody to see his image that's been long since buried.

So Gun dulled them out with tinted shades.

"Hey."

He called to break the awkward silence.

No response.

Gun leaned closer. At the same time, Y/N looked up.

He was caught off guard when she suddenly sandwiched his face between her palms.

"Hehe. Gotcha!" She snickered.

His sunglasses loosely fell down the bridge of his nose. Y/N caught a view of his ebony eyes for the first time, at which her eyes widened.

"Gun, your eyes..." Naked eyes meet each other for the first time. Locked as time stopped. Her sudden perplexion eventually subsided, turning soft as she rubbed his cheek.

"They are pretty."

He didn't know which pair of eyes she was looking at right now. But it didn't matter anymore.

The red string was dusted off to clarity.

He was taught to discard his humanity aside and embrace his pitch-black monstrosity all his life. Since then, that was all he saw--darkness. The void he had ever known engulfed all colors visible in the spectrum.

On the other hand, white emitted them, like how her ridiculously bright-colored clothing pierced his dark-tinted sunglasses. Her comforting rays of light were outstretched for him to latch on.

It was no wonder how he was captivated by her, ensnared in her mere presence.

He was a pathetic moth bewitched by the warmth of her lamp's flame. It was blinding. He knows she is a whole 'nother kind of destructive, and he shouldn't come close, yet her tiny blaze's euphonious crackle, egging on him to inch closer, lulled him into submission.

He was an Icarus flown to her scorching sun. He knew she would destroy him all along, and he let her.

Gun stopped in his tracks at the sight of Y/N 's family nameplate. He collected himself and took a deep breath.

"What a surprise, Jonggun! Are you paying Y/N a visit?" Her mother greeted him with a warm smile.

"It's been months, young man! We missed you!" Her father guffawed, lightly smacking Gun's back.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. L/N." Gun bowed his head and offered them a box of cupcakes he remembered Y/N was gushing about. He appeared calm in front of her parents, but he couldn't meet their eyes–not like they'd notice anyway.

Gun snapped his eyes open and landed on Y/N below him; her eyes closed, and her hair sprawled messily around her. She looked ethereal with white draped over her peaceful form.

He got so used to seeing her face filled with intense expressions that her relaxed face seemed fresh as her other features popped out.

It's like falling in love with her all over again.

God, does she look beautiful right now.

She resembled an angel with wings spread on the cold, hard ground.

…

Ground?

…

Color drained from Gun's face as he got pulled back to reality at the sight of carmine ichor oozing from Y/N 's side, seeping through the stitches of her white dress.

It… it all happened in a blink.

She darted towards a lost kid who aimlessly crossed the highway, unknowingly about to get hit by a speeding car. She pushed him to safety and took the hit.

The lady beside Gun shrieked in panic and frantically fished out her phone to call an ambulance.

'She might not make it if we still wait for the damn thing.' He knelt down and checked for response and airway in her system.

She was unresponsive but breathing.

He knew this method. With how frequently he and Y/N were together, how she talked 80% of the time, more often than not, she had run him down the basics of first aid, even if they were out of the blue.

'Must've thought I didn't pay attention, huh? Too fucking bad, Y/N. I always listened to you.'

He carefully roamed his hands on various parts of her unconscious body to check for severe bleeding.

'Shit. Three of her ribs are broken. Her right arm is fractured, and she's rapidly losing blood.' His calloused hands cupped the side of her face where her silky strands loosely hung.

'Her temple is also bleeding, probably from the impact when she hit the ground.'

Blood. All too familiar. It never left Gun as soon as he got his first kill.

The sight of blood shouldn't faze him. But his hands were trembling the more he realized how grave her condition is.

It took everything for him to stop driving his fingers to her hair despite being spotted with dried blood. He withdrew his hands and brushed his stray locks back instead in an attempt to keep his composure.

He was planning on taking her to the hospital himself or treating her in his house (he already has enough nursing supplies for his personal use, but Y/N constantly nagged him to buy more for emergencies). But, in her current state, he couldn't carry her otherwise the issue with her ribs gets worse and affects her internal organs, if they weren't already.

"For emergencies, my ass. Can't use them right now, can I?"

Funny how Y/N remained her composure and even kept their banter going when she first treated Gun. Just goes to show that she IS calm at work.

It's kind of ironic now that they've switched places, though. Even if Y/N taught him all this medical stuff, Gun still couldn't do anything more helpful than wait anxiously for the fucking ambulance.

Gun pinched the bridge of his nose. These injuries wouldn't be a problem for Jinyoung Park. Gun could certainly vouch for that, as he and Goo were regulars in his lab when they were still on probation… when the man was still borderline mentally stable.

He would phone him immediately if he wanted to but decided against it because God knows what that maniac would do to her now at his current state, if he even agrees to tend to her injuries.

Gun withdrew his coat and covered Y/N 's upper body. He rested his left hand on her cold ones in hopes of delaying Death's touch on her.

Honestly, he was at a loss--which was a first; he didn't know what to do with it. But Gun knew he had to stay with Y/N until help arrived.

He curled his hand around Y/N's.

"She is safe. She is strong… She isn't alone."

Gun found himself uttering the same chant again as if in prayer.

He always viewed Y/N as a warrior shielding the weak, a saint devotees pray to for protection. She had always put others' well-being above hers--a trait befitting of a nurse.

But that overshadowed the image of blood and bones beneath her soft, paper-thin skin as it was under the guise of a rigid exterior.

Fucked up it may seem, but Gun knows he isn't at fault entirely for what happened: Y/N made her decision, was well aware of the consequences, and still chose to do it.

Even so, he could feel a stinging pang in his chest, telling him that he should've caught up to her had he ran and pushed Y/N and the stupid boy himself. But the four major crews were at peak then, so he ultimately chose to do nothing.

And it tore his heart--something he thought had been long abandoned.

The 'heart' was meant to be just an empty hole where every last bit of tenderness was carved out of his chest. The hollow pit that reminded him of his decision to walk the path of blood… was forcefully filled with infectious laughter, sweet melodies, and soft rhythmic heartbeats of life.

The words "Gun" and "sweet" didn't seem uncharacteristic when put together now, huh.

He gazed at what remained of her longingly, reminiscent of memories they'd shared, despite short.

"You painted my heart in different forms that I can hardly call it my own anymore."

Gun's grip on the bouquet tightened.

"We shouldn't even have met--we're worlds apart, for crying out loud. But Fate decided to fuck around people and chose us, I guess."

But at least he was able to see the world in color--for the first and last time.

He was never meant to have it, anyway.

…

...

"PFFT--"

Gun jolted on his seat as laughter echoed around the room.

Y/N wheezed. "I didn't know you could be so poetic, Gun Park!"

It took a moment for Gun to process his surroundings.

He is currently in Y/N's bedroom. A relatively small space compared to his bedroom, which is infinitely wider. Her room looks more lively and festive than his empty one, though.

Other than her working table, everything else was decorated with strings of polaroids, LED lights, and stuffed toys ranging from tiny crocheted keychains to life-size pillows randomly decorated the room.

Wow. There's a whole new world to be explored in here.

Gun waved his trailing thoughts away and finally faced Y/N, who sat on her bed. Her lively demeanor didn't cover up her poor condition though, which is painfully understandable.

He should've brought medical supplies that were piling up in his house. And cupcakes, really? He didn't go out for a picnic.

Well, it's nothing worse than her in a casket.

He cleared his throat.

"More importantly, how long since you left the hospital?"

"Two months."

"And you never even contacted me once?"

"Well, you've never visited me since… the accident. I thought you simply forgot about me, you being a busy person and all."

He TRIED to forget her, for Christ's sake.

After Kouji tracked the bastard's location with the car's plate number he sent, Gun didn't waste a second and pummeled the hit-and-runner to death.

Then… he carried on to another chapter of his life, as usual.

Gun wholeheartedly believed Y/N was just another fleeting name in his book, just torn scratched pages of requiems lacing love songs that weren't supposed to be written.

So, he let time help him forget.

Spoiler: he never did; he just couldn't. How could he when everywhere he looked, he saw her?

"I was… busy at work."

"See? Anyway, that's okay. Don't sweat it, man. My prank made up for it." She laughed it off.

Gun prepared himself for the worst when he entered Y/N 's house; he felt his stoic façade crack as a flash of disappointment in Y/N's face was conjured in his mind.

Her cheerful welcome (sneaky prank) washed all of his worries away.

In the end, it was better than what he anticipated.

"So, how are you feeling?"

She frowned, an eyebrow arched up in disapproval.

"The Gun I know doesn't give a shit about 'feelings'. Who are you and what did you do to him?"

He deadpanned. "Just… answer the question."

"To be honest, I feel like shit right now. Being bedridden for months? Getting injected with pain relievers, tons of prescriptions and rehab sessions, everyday? Now, I know how my patients felt…"

How talkative for someone feeling like shit. Even so, he let her talk–like how they usually did. It felt melancholic.

"...and I was finally discharged. They said I can go back to work when I'm fully recovered." She sent him a toothy grin.

Her eyes landed on the bouquet in his arms, and cocked her head to the side.

"Are those white chrysanthemums?"

"...Yes." He could almost see a question mark form on her lips.

"Dude, you thought I died or something? Why bring 'mourning' flowers?" She giggled.

"No? But…" He set down the bouquet on her bed.

"I heard that they have other meanings…"

"Oh? What are they?"

He plucked two flowers from the bouquet and inched closer to Y/N.

'Eternal…' he tucked one of them behind her ear.

'...and devoted love.' he pried her hands open and placed the second flower on them.

Gun rested his forehead on her shoulder, his eyes welled up at the contact.

He couldn't say the words out loud.

Not after leaving her when she was at her lowest.

...

Ugh.

This isn't how he planned it to go.

He really did love her--but he was also selfish. Distancing himself didn't do any better for the both of them; quite the contrary.

Would stitching back the torn pages heal their wounded hearts this time? Let their colors paint over the dried stains of their past and turn over a new chapter?

Splashes of rain decorated her bedroom window. The colors in her room desaturated as evening enveloped the sky.

"Gun," Y/N held his arms, squeezing them. "It's getting dark. I'm gonna turn on the lights."

"Let's… stay like this for a while." was Gun's only response.

…

Their close proximity. The familiar scent of her detergent. The nostalgic periods of tapping raindrops. The yoke of her shirt getting wet.

It was similar to their first meeting but a little different.

Y/N felt him shake. She chuckled and rubbed circles around his back.

"What's up with you, dummy? It's not even that cold."

#this sounded better in my head/outline i promise #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism fic #park jonggun #gun park #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #congrats and tysm if you reached the end! you get nothing from it tho (prob a headache) haha #bro's still completely ooc tho 🙇‍♀️#i also don't have a particular writing style so my bad if some of these are ❓❓ lol #also my sht grammar sorry abt that

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