#meeting someone who will actively refuse to at every turn

[lfthinkerwrites]

Dread the day that Alfred Pennyworth crosses paths with Ellen Dixon, because holy Hell, those two won’t like each other. Not one bit.

[written-in-knife]

Hi! Can I request a platonic relationship with Crowley or Crewel? For example, they adopt a reader (officially on paperwork, or emotionally) and suddenly the reader just falls through some portal and ends up in another world. And Crowley/Crewel just *dad panic, -1000 nerve cells*. At the end all is well and they reunite!Another point, you didn't ask for it, but I'll say it (sorry). Put two tags in your fanfics "TWST × reader" and "Twisted Wonderland × reader" (put both at once) so more people will see you!

Watching and Waiting

Parental!Crewel & gn!Reader

Fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort? a single sentence of a little hurt/no comfort at the very end sorryy

Word count: 4049

That tip does actually really help and I will do that from now on, thank you! I really love the idea of the staff pseudo-adopting the main character, but I'm OBSESSED with Papa Crewel. And to demonstrate, I'm going to get completely carried away with this prompt! HERE WE GO!

When it came to the student body of Night Raven College, Crewel had a certain level of fondness for all of them. He was strict, of course, he wanted nothing but to see them succeed, but there was a little bit of pride he took in every class. Diligent juniors who'd been with him for a handful of years at this point, most of whom exceeded his every expectation and the rest who at least performed the required tasks with the skills he'd taught them. Flighty but extremely talented sophomores who managed to impress him at every turn in one way or another. Even the freshmen, a group of troublemakers to be sure, but malleable, sharp minds that just needed to focus up to learn the material and they'd be well on their way to excelling in his class.

Then there was you.

Crowley had called a staff meeting to explain the situation to the teachers once you and Grim had proven yourselves worthy to become two halves of a whole student. Trein had asked if there was an active search on figuring out a way to send you home to your own world, and Crowley responded with a very flippant yes that left a sour taste on everyone's tongue. Once it was announced that you had been placed in Class A, Crewel's homeroom, he silently vowed to keep an eye on you. Just that. A magicless student in a magic academy in a world they were not at all familiar with felt to him very much like a wounded puppy being circled by vultures. He wouldn't treat you any differently, of course, you were simply a few steps behind and needed someone watching your back whether you knew the eyes were there or not.

So he watched. He watched as those friends of yours extorted you when you were at your wits end with Grim, he watched you struggling with Grim. He watched you in the second-hand uniform with hastily stitched repairs that was at least a size too big and getting bigger on you as you were not being provided with enough money to feed yourself and Grim AND repair your dorm. He watched as you tried to make Ramshackle habitable, and he watched as you over-extended yourself to put an end to Riddle Rosehearts and Leona Kingscholar's overblots. And when he watched you in the nurse's office just laughing off your injuries the day of the Spelldrive tournament, Crewel decided he was done watching.

It started small at first. He'd discussed with Trein about what subjects you were struggling in, not surprised to hear they were all magic based subjects, then held you back after class to offer to tutor you in those subjects under the guise of wanting all his pups to succeed. Which he did, of course. You agreed to the after school tutoring, which Grim very loudly refused to attend. Every other day after school, you met up with Crewel his classroom to tackle some subject or other more in depth while he graded assignments, and before you left, he would hand you a large container with food in it.

"This is cutting into your dinner time, is it not?" He explained when you asked about it. "I'm not a monster, I wouldn't expect you to go without eating all night."

"You don't have to go out of your way, Professor." You sighed, too hungry to deny the free food.

"Hardly. It's leftovers from last night," a lie, but you didn't need to know that, "I won't miss them."

Crewel caught you back up in your subjects fairly quickly, you were a diligent student. As the days went on, he watched some life return to your face until he could no longer find that ravenous look deep behind your eyes. He started setting a portion of his salary aside and bringing it to Sam, telling him to keep it for when you came by to purchase anything, giving him a little extra to not tell you where it was coming from. He felt a little swell of pride in his chest when he heard you bragging to Ace and Deuce about your grocery run being paid for. He was comfortable with this, happy enough not watching you wasting away and seeing you beginning to thrive in this school. He knew you could hold your own after handling two overblots, so he knew you could handle yourself against the Octavinelle trio when they came for your dorm. And of course you did. He felt that swell of pride again, stronger than he felt for his other students. Then again, his other students didn't have to fight nearly as hard as you did. Before he left for the winter break, he left a parcel on your doorstep that contained a thick pair of gloves, a fur lined hat, a cashmere scarf, and an old brown fur jacket of his. He worried it may not fit, but he refused to leave you to freeze while he was gone. He left a note in the box on top of the items.

"A small reward for your hard work this semester. Enjoy your holiday, you earned it. D. Crewel"

When he came back from the winter break, he was disappointed to find your school uniform in worse condition than when he left, a jacket sleeve hanging on for dear life, poorly patched holes in the knees, one of your shoes peeling away from the soles. He refused to let that go on any longer than it needed to, bringing you to Sam's himself to get you fitted for a new uniform. When you tried to insist that you could pay, Crewel insisted that it wasn't necessary, citing that he couldn't have any of his pups looking less than their best for the upcoming culture fair. When you tried to bring up the winter clothing he'd left you, he brushed off your thanks with a wave of his hand.

"We can find something more suitable to your style before your next winter." He insisted as he gently adjusted your tie. "I couldn't have one of my best freshmen freezing to death while I was gone, could I?"

Despite being caught up to the other students in your subjects, you still came by after class, more often to gossip over whatever meal Crewel had brought with him than to study. You told him about what happened over the winter break, and how the Octavinelle trio actually ended up helping you out. You told him about Ace and Deuce showing up after everything had been resolved, how they got there by train and boat and foot because they had been so worried about you. You kept him up to date about how your dorm, finally at least clean and presentable, had been offered up for the SDC group headquarters. He occasionally had gossip for you, making you swear not to spread anything around before he would tell you anything. It was usually student gossip that was being spread around anyways, some spat in Savanaclaw, an Ignihyde student locking down a portion of the school website to blast photos of another student doing something embarrassing, and so on. He wouldn't admit it to a soul in the world, not even you, but you were swiftly becoming his favorite. Remarkable grades for someone who didn't even know the Great Seven at the beginning of the school year, the admirable bravery and kindness it took to stop five overblots in their tracks, you were impressive. That feeling of pride in his chest eventually never left.

When the Ferrymen came to remove students and take them to Styx, when he heard two of his students were injured, he sprinted down to the nurses office, feeling a bit shameful in the amount of relief he felt that you were not in one of the beds. When you did show up to check on your friends, he patched up the few scrapes you did have and insisted you didn't do anything rash. He knew how much you'd grown to care for Grim, but you had to leave this to the faculty. He was already boiling with rage at the injuries Ace and Deuce had sustained, if Crowley wouldn't handle this, he'd figure out a way to handle it himself. He should've realized that would be your mindset as well. He was furious when he heard you'd gone off with Rook and Epel to find everyone that had been taken, but more than that, he was afraid. He was afraid you wouldn't come back, and all he could do was wait and watch. When you did eventually come back, Crewel had an entire lecture planned for you, explaining how reckless and irresponsible it was to go running off with Rook and Epel to find Styx like that, how you could've been injured or worse, how he expected better from you. You took it like a champ, fully expecting the lecture before you even went after Rook in the first place. But you were safe, everyone was safe, that's all that mattered to you. You could sit through one lecture. When Crewel finally ran out of steam, he stepped forward and put his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look back up at him.

"I'm glad you're safe, pup, but don't you even think of doing something like this ever again."

"Okay, Dad."

You both froze, but for different reasons. You couldn't believe you slipped up and called a teacher dad, you were extraordinarily embarrassed. Crewel on the other hand was putting a name to exactly what that feeling of pride in his chest is every time he sees you succeed. You may not be his by blood or by law, but you are his. He ruffled your hair and sent you away with an order to rest up after your adventure.

You still came by his office after school, raving about a good grade on a history test or complaining about Grim and Ace getting you and Deuce in trouble in Vargas's class. It felt much lighter than when you first joined him in his office at the beginning of the school year, you had been so tense back then. You eventually took to calling him Dad on occasion, mostly when you were teasing him about something or other. He'd never imagined himself as a father, but he supposed at some point he had decided you were his kid, even subconsciously. It was probably the day he'd decided to stop watching, as soon as he closed that distance in his mind, you became his child. He wouldn't admit it out loud to you, or anyone for that matter, but he did consider you to be his family at this point.

In the meantime, Crowley had been actually, finally, working on a way to send you home, mirrors now lining his office, portals in the frames to different places in Twisted Wonderland, a few that go beyond but not correctly. Not to your home. Crowley had confided in Crewel that he wasn't sure he was going to find you a way home before the end of the school year, not sure what to do with you since they couldn't keep you on campus. Crewel offered up his home in half a heartbeat, more than willing to keep watching over you over the summer should it come to that. They were discussing the logistics of it in Crowley's office when you came into the room, stepping off to the side by the wall when you realized they were speaking, waiting your turn. You were standing in front of a large, full body mirror that nearly reached the ceiling in height when the door slammed open again, shaking the walls, Riddle scolding Kalim for opening the door so recklessly as the rest of the Housewardens filed in behind them. They all got a front row seat to watch the large mirror at your back teeter back and forth for a second, then topple forward and on top of you before you could even realize to dive out of the way. The mirror shattered when it landed flat on the floor, no sign of you underneath. Despite that, Crewel ran to it, enlisting Leona to help him lift it, desperately hoping to find you injured but alive. Find you there. But the only thing below the frame were the splinters of glass, now just reflecting the room instead of a swirling portal.

You were gone.

Crewel nearly throttled Crowley to get any information about that portal that he could. All Crowley could provide was the number he'd written on the back of the frame, a three, and suggested there may be others with that number. Other mirrors had recognizable names on the back, Clock Town square, Fleur City waterways, Scalding Sands outskirts. A few also had numbers, three ones, a five, two busted mirrors with a four on the back and the word dangerous, two had apparently been so uninhabitable that he tossed the mirror out entirely. He explained that he wasn't sure where the numbered mirrors led, they were not familiar lands to him. The ones all led to the exact same spot in a field of flowers he'd never laid eyes on, nor had you upon bringing one back, the five led to the inside of a locked room with lettering inscribed in the walls that you didn't recognize from your world. Three had led to a bustling city street. Crowley had led you through it once during his investigations. You recognized the area, but it was wrong. The way you'd described it was that it looked like three major cities from your world had been mashed together, and the lettering on the signs was unlike anything you'd seen. It wasn't home, but it had given Crowley the idea that he'd been getting close. Crewel sent the Housewardens out of the office at the explanation, and no one argued with his tone, the group of them too shaken by watching their friend disappear before their eyes.

"Bring them back." Crewel snapped as soon as the door closed behind the students.

"I'm sure they're fine, Divus, they even said themselves that it was similar to their home--"

Crewel grabbed him by the lapels on his jacket and dragged him back over to the shattered remains of the mirror. "Similar is not good enough, Dire." He snarled at the man. "You swore you would send them home, not abandon them in another unfamiliar place. Now, it is my pup that is lost as a result of your negligence and you will bring them back here, or so help me, I will--!"

"Alright! Yes, I will work on getting another portal open to them, but it will take time." Crowley agreed, if only to soothe over Crewel's rage. "It took months to find something that resembled their home the first time, and I haven't managed it again."

"Then I guess you had better get started."

The waiting was by far the hardest part. Every day for the first two weeks he would stop by Crowley's office to make sure he was working towards getting you back and to see if there were any developments. There were none. He was there in that office every day he didn't have classes, trying desperately to open the right portal. He and Crowley had told the Housewardens not to say anything to anyone yet, not wanting to worry the friends Crewel had watched you make. After the first two weeks of waiting, they could no longer keep it from Grim. Surprisingly enough, after telling him the news, Grim decided to stick close to Crewel in his free time. He's quieter now that you're missing, knowing he can't do anything. And Crewel said nothing. Azul and Riddle offered Crowley their help in creating portals to try to bring you back, Crewel almost had to threaten him to let them help. Eventually, when news finally spread about the reason behind your disappearance, Malleus came by to offer his assistance as well. It had been four weeks at this point, the five of them working together had managed to open eight new portals to places they didn't recognize, getting rid of every portal that led to another place in Twisted Wonderland to make room for the portals to other worlds in case one of them led to you and they just didn't realize it yet.

The waiting was agonizing. Crewel would, more often than not, end up sleeping at his desk in his office after staying too late with Crowley making portals and having to stay up longer to grade assignments. His office felt so quiet without you inserting yourself every day, he'd gotten so used to grading papers while you talked to him about your day that it was now hard to focus on it in the silence. But he had a duty to all his other students. So he kept teaching, training his other pups correctly lest they stray in his absence. But even the students noticed the change. He was quicker to anger, more harsh in his grading which they didn't think was possible, less tolerant of even the smallest mistakes. Trein had to pull him aside one day, three weeks after, to tell him he needed to take a break, that students were confiding in him about Crewel's behavior. He knew how he was acting, he knew how exhausted he was, but how could he be expected to stop when he knew you were out there somewhere? His kid was missing somewhere so far out of reach that finding them was, at this point, down to a shot in the dark, how could he be expected to take a break?

Four weeks had gone by with no sign of the portal you'd gone through. Riddle had dropped his appearances down to just the weekends, Azul had stopped coming entirely while claiming that he had to focus on the Lounge, Malleus returned every day like clockwork to try to find his dearest friend, but even he was starting to lose hope. Crewel still spent every waking moment that he wasn't fulfilling his role as a teacher on finding you. He had to drag Crowley back into the search a few times, and they'd fought about it more than once. Crewel, exhausted from lack of sleep and daily accumulation of blot, would shout at Crowley for not caring nearly enough that one of the students was missing, not caring enough to put his all into finding them again, how it was just like him to think his problems were solved once you were out of reach. Crowley would argue back that he was doing all he could, but he couldn't drop everything to look for one student when there were hundreds more to look after. They were in the middle of one of their arguments when Riddle stepped out of one of the portals, a medium sized vanity mirror they'd hung on the wall.

"Excuse me, Headmaster?" Riddle called out, causing the men to stop shouting long enough to listen. "You said it was a city street corner, correct?"

"Neon lights and the smell of the ocean, yes." Crowley nodded, crossing his arms.

"I believe I found it."

The two men glanced at each other quickly, silently agreeing to set aside their differences for the moment, and rushed forward to the mirror, letting it pull them through to the other side. They stepped out and landed on a cracked sidewalk atop a hill, neon lights reflecting off the puddles on the road, cars rushing past. Looking back, it seemed their portal had manifested in the window of a shop, the display inside blocking anyone in the store from seeing them suddenly appear in the street.

"This is it." Crowley confirmed before turning to go back through the portal. "I'll go see about getting a search party together and we can--"

Crewel didn't wait for him to finish, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting your name down the street. There was barely any chance you stuck around on this road for four weeks, but he had to try. He didn't notice Crowley step through the portal again, and he paid no mind to the people watching him shouting your name like a mad man. He had to try. They'd found the connection, they'd come this far, you were within reach again, he couldn't just give up now. He wandered down the street, still shouting your name. The sun was setting on this unfamiliar world, he didn't want to risk not being able to find the portal home again for fear of not being able to lead you to it, but he couldn't just give up now. He ran a hand through his already messy hair in distress, eyes darting frantically around at the faces that were passing him by. Where would you have gone if you left? He didn't want to even entertain the idea of the worst having happened. The sun had disappeared below the horizon and his voice had gone hoarse from yelling when he heard it. He wasn't exactly sure what it was over the sounds of the cars rushing past and over the puddles in the road, but it made ears perk up. He looked around again, spinning around to try to find where it had come from when he heard it again, across the street. Your voice.

"Dad?!" You shouted over the rush of the cars, absolutely beaming when he finally made eye contact.

"Pup!" Crewel nearly collapsed in relief, he could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Hold on, I'm coming to you! Just stay there!" You shouted back, bouncing in place for a moment before disappearing into the crowd.

He felt the anxiety take hold again once he couldn't see you anymore, but you looked fine. Healthy, not injured, fed, even from a distance he could tell you were okay. He took his moment alone to thank the Sevens for that, if nothing else.

"How did you find me?!" You asked through a laugh as you emerged from the crowd and approached him.

You met his hug with equal fervor as he pulled you tight against him, the relief of having you within arms reach shattering any remaining decorum his sleep deprivation had left him with. He didn't hold you long, however, pulling you back by the shoulders to examine you. He was right. Healthy, not injured, not starving. A little dirty, bags under your eyes, but those could be fixed. You were safe, and that was all that mattered.

"We've been looking for you for weeks, Pup." He admitted, shoulders sagging under the weight of the relief. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. I tried to get back through the portal but it must've closed behind me." You chuckled as you showed him your knuckles, cuts scabbed over now. "I got pissed off and punched it. I'm just glad I didn't get arrested for breaking the window, honestly."

"You and me both." Crewel shook his head, thinking it just like you. "The mirror shattered when it hit the floor, that's why you couldn't get back. You don't look like you've been sleeping in alleys, at least."

"No, I found a shelter to stay at, and I've been coming back here every day to wait for someone to come get me." You explained quickly. "I'm so glad you came."

"Of course I did." He sighed, putting a hand on top of your head. "I wasn't about to leave you here."

"Thanks Dad." You said quietly, stepping forward to hug him again. He held you close, rubbing your back as he did. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, Pup. Let's go home."

Upon your return to Twisted Wonderland, while you were greeting Riddle and Malleus who had just been waiting for you to emerge, Crewel finally realized he could put words to the worry he was feeling during the waiting.

He didn't know how he was supposed to say good-bye to his child once Crowley finally found the right connection to send you home.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[snail-day]

Terms and Conditions Apply

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader - unwholesome edition

Sum: Normal college roommate activities, except your roommates, are madly in love with you and have a really weird way of showing it.

TW: Yandere Behaviors (manipulation, obsessive, possessive,etc), Omorashi/Piss, noncon/dubcon, oral (m! receiving), Abuse of showerhead, Reader is a bit dense, Power Dynamics, Alcohol consumption, unhealthy relationships, Infantilization, MDNI

WC: 6.0k

A/n: I will probably finish editing the wholesome edition later this week. :) I feel like I've been too angsty lately and I lowkey prefer the wholesome version a bit more, however, my beta reader likes this one so we'll see!

How far is one willing to go?

Willing to sell their soul to the devil—or in this case, devils. The ones you once called your best friends. The ones who stripped you of your rights because you owed them. Because they owned you.

Suguru and Satoru—two trust fund kids with more money than they could ever spend—had waltzed into your life during your freshman year of college, offering friendship cloaked in charm and generosity.

They��d given you a place to stay, sliding a 52-page lease across the table. A document so thick and dense that it had made your stomach turn. Your heart, your instincts, your very soul screamed at you to stop. To read between the lines. But you didn’t.

You trusted them. You ignored the red flags.

You brushed off the subtle proclamations of love buried in their actions, their words, their very presence. How they’d spoke of living up to your standards. How they hinted they’d have truly courted you—if only you’d given them the time of day.

But you didn’t. You dismissed their flirting as harmless.

And like any rich men who refused to be denied, they did the next best thing. They bought you.

You really should’ve let them court you.

Because if you had, maybe you wouldn’t be here now—trapped in their twisted acts of devotion. Acts they called love.

Satoru, with his dazzling grin and sharp blue eyes, always joked about wanting a dog. Something to take care of, to love him unconditionally, to always come when called.

Suguru, ever composed and calculating, never hid his desire for control. He wanted something—or someone—to care for, to command, to obey his every word.

And now, that someone was you.

You’d gone too far for free rent, hadn’t you?

It was almost funny, in a cruel way. You’d joked once about selling feet pics to creepy old men to make ends meet, and Satoru had flashed you that sharp, wolfish grin and asked, “How much?”

You’d laughed it off, calling him ridiculous. But he hadn’t been joking. Not even a little.

If you had said a number, he would have bought them on the spot, saving them for later use. 

When you couldn’t afford drinks on karaoke night, you’d waved it off, saying you’d be fine with water. But Suguru had just smiled, handing over his black card without hesitation.

“Don’t worry about it,” he’d said, his voice smooth, almost tender.

The whole night, he had coddled you, his arm a steady weight around your waist as you sang along to the music. When you were tipsy and laughing, stumbling into him, he’d pulled you onto his lap, his hands lingering just a little too long.

You didn’t notice.

You didn’t notice how his hands trailed along your thighs, how he tilted his head closer to catch the scent of your perfume, how his dark eyes gleamed with something dangerous.

They loved you.

They loved you so much that buying you was the easiest option.

Kidnapping you would have been messy, after all.

This? This was clean.

A lease. A signature. A series of favors and debts that quietly piled up until you were ensnared—unable to leave or even think about leaving.

You thought of them as just weird, quirky roommates. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

Satoru had the habit of barging into your room unannounced, sprawling across your bed like it was his own. He’d hug your pillows to his chest, burying his face in them, his bright blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

And behind your back?

He punched and slapped every single one of your stuffed animals.

All except for the ones he bought you.

Like the stuffed alligator he’d gifted you last month. “Because you’re so snappy,” he’d said with a wide grin, teasing you endlessly as he mimicked your glare. “And because you do those little alligator rolls when I try to cuddle you.”

He wasn’t lying. You did twist and squirm to escape his grip whenever Suguru was away, and Satoru found himself “too lonely” to sleep in a big bed all by himself.

“I need you,” he’d whine, tugging at your blanket as he wedged himself onto your mattress. “Friends can cuddle, y’know. It’s even in the lease—clause 22!”

You’d scoffed, rolling your eyes. “There’s no way that’s real.”

But, of course, you hadn’t read the lease.

You hadn’t read clause 22, clause 34, or any other fine print buried in those 52 pages.

If you had, maybe you’d have noticed the way they’d written their love into the lines of the contract. The way their obsession had been framed as something so mundane, so harmless, that you never thought to question it.

Instead, you dismissed it. Dismissed them.

They were just your weird, clingy roommates, right?

That’s what you told yourself every time Satoru squeezed the stuffed alligator to his chest, grinning as he teased, “See? It’s like me and you! You’re the snappy little gator, and I’m the big, lovable guy keeping you from biting anyone else.”

It was playful. Harmless, you managed to convince yourself.

But sometimes—especially in the dead of night, when the world was quiet, and there was nowhere to hide from the truth—you struggled to ignore the way his hands would wander.

How he’d press open-mouthed kisses against your chest, the wet heat of his lips leaving trails along your skin. The way his hands would squeeze your plush breasts, fingers digging in just a little too roughly, as if claiming them, claiming you, in his sleep.

You told yourself he was dreaming—lost in some haze where he thought you were someone else, or something else.

But when morning came, and you hesitantly brought it up, he’d blink at you with feigned innocence, his blue eyes wide and unbothered. “Did I really?” he’d ask, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface of his words. “Man, I must’ve been dreaming about something really good.”

His grin would widen, that devil-may-care attitude making you question if you’d imagined it all.

“Hey,” he’d say, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he steered you out the door, “let’s grab breakfast. My treat. Consider it a ‘thanks’ for not ripping my arm off in my sleep.”

The offer, so casually given, left you with no choice but to follow. To let him guide you down the street to the café he liked, where he’d order for you without asking—a gesture that felt less thoughtful and more… presumptive.

As he filled the table with plates of food you hadn’t asked for, his laughter echoing through the small, bustling space, you found yourself playing along. Smiling at his jokes, laughing when he wanted you to, pretending that everything was normal.

Because what else could you do?

Confronting him felt impossible. Denying him? Even more so.

It was easier this way—going along with the current, letting him pull you wherever he wanted, feeding you bites of his food like you were some cherished pet rather than a person with agency of your own.

“Open up,” he’d coo, holding a forkful of syrup-drenched pancake to your lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction when you complied. “Good girl.”

And you’d swallow it down, the sweetness coating your tongue as his praise sent a shiver crawling along your skin.

Because it was easier to pretend.

Easier to act like this was just how things were—how they’d always been.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, the question lingered, heavy and unavoidable:

How far were you willing to go?

You kept telling yourself to endure. Just two more years until you graduate. Two more years, and you’ll be free.

You could play along until then. You had to. You needed the cheap rent.

And it wasn’t like you could even prefer one of them over the other. They were equally clingy, equally overbearing in their own ways.

Suguru, at least, had the decency not to invade your space outright.

He never barged into your room unannounced like Satoru. He didn’t sprawl across your bed or bury his face in your pillows. No, Suguru was different. His methods were quieter, subtler.

Whenever Satoru left for the weekend to visit his family, it was Suguru who kept you company. He’d coax you onto the couch with him, his deep voice laced with calm reassurance.

“You’ll keep me company, won’t you?” he’d ask, his tone so soft, so genuine, that refusing felt impossible.

And before you knew it, you’d find yourself in his lap, his strong arms wrapping firmly around your waist as he leaned back, settling you against his chest.

“It soothes me,” he’d murmur, his voice low and almost apologetic. “I’ve been so stressed with my master’s lately. You don’t mind, do you?”

How could you say no?

Suguru always had a way of making his needs sound so reasonable, so innocent. You didn’t even think to question it—not until his hands started to linger. His thumbs would trace small, deliberate circles against your hips, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

Clause 12.

That’s what he’d called it the first time you hesitated.

“Roommate will always provide emotional comfort,” he’d said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as his dark eyes held yours.

You hadn’t read the lease, of course. But when Suguru spoke, his voice so calm and assured, it was hard not to believe him.

So you let him hold you.

You let him keep you there for hours, his hands warm and steady as they rested on your waist, his quiet hums vibrating against your back. You sat frozen, unsure of where the line had blurred—or if there had ever been a line at all.

Things changed after one night.

You’d gone out for drinks with some friends—a rare occurrence these days. Between their constant presence and your dwindling social circle, opportunities like this had become few and far between.

Maybe that’s why you drank more than you should have.

The alcohol buzzed warmly through your veins, leaving your mind foggy and your limbs loose as laughter spilled freely from your lips. You didn’t even notice how late it had gotten until someone pointed it out, and the world tilted slightly as you tried to check the time on your phone.

“Shit,” you mumbled, your voice slurred as you stared at the blurry screen. You scrolled to Satoru’s contact—he always answered first—and hit call.

When they arrived, it was like the entire bar shifted.

“Oh my God, those are your roommates?” one of your friends teased, dragging out the words as she nudged you with a playful grin. “You’ve been holding out on us! Are you playing games or something?”

A giggle bubbled out of you as you swayed in your seat, the room spinning slightly. “Nooo,” you slurred, shaking your head a little too hard. “They’re just—”

Before you could finish, Satoru’s tall frame appeared in front of you, crouching down to your level. “Having fun, huh?” he asked, his bright blue eyes glinting with something unreadable.

You buried your face in his shirt, giggling uncontrollably. “Satoruuu,” you slurred, your voice high-pitched and childlike. “I’m fineeee. I was just… just hanging out!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, chuckling as he shifted you in his arms, holding you upright as your legs wobbled.

Meanwhile, Suguru quietly slipped away to the bar, his expression calm and collected as he handed over his black card to settle your tab. When he returned, his eyes gleamed with something dark, though his lips curved into a faint smile as he glanced at your friends.

“Ah, sorry we haven’t announced we’re dating yet,” he said smoothly, his voice low, a grin playing at his lips.

The table erupted into laughter and cheers, glasses clinking together in celebration.

You blinked slowly, your alcohol-heavy mind struggling to process his words. “Wait… what?”

You tried to straighten up, but Satoru’s grip on you tightened, pulling you back against him. “Shh, don’t make a scene,” he murmured, his voice light and teasing, though the edge to his grin made your stomach twist.

“He’s joking,” you said, slurring as you waved a hand lazily. “You’re jokinnng, right, Suguru?”

But Suguru’s smile didn’t falter. He leaned closer, his hand resting on the small of your back as he said softly, “Does it sound like I’m joking?”

Your friends erupted into louder laughter, their voices blurring together as your head spun.

“Let’s get you home,” Satoru said brightly, steering you toward the door.

You were too drunk to argue, your body slumping against his as the cool night air hit your face.

“You didn’t have to say that,” you mumbled, your words barely coherent as Suguru helped you into the car.

“Say what?” he asked, sliding in beside you, his voice calm and measured.

“That… we’re dating,” you slurred, your head lolling against Satoru’s shoulder as he climbed in on your other side.

Satoru laughed, his hand ruffling your hair as he pulled you closer. “Oh, come on. It’s not a big deal. Besides, they loved it. Right, Suguru?”

Suguru’s hand brushed lightly against your knee, steady and deliberate. His dark eyes met yours in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Does it bother you?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tender.

You tried to answer, your lips parting, but your mind was too foggy, your tongue too heavy. The alcohol clouded your thoughts, dulling the sharp edges of your confusion and concern. The only sound you managed was a quiet, slurred mumble before sleep tugged at your consciousness.

When you woke up, the world felt too soft, too still.

Your eyes fluttered open, the dim light of early morning filtering through unfamiliar curtains. The silk sheets beneath you were far too luxurious, the plush mattress beneath your body a stark contrast to your usual bed.

You sat up slowly, a pounding headache hammering at your skull as the events of the night before came back to you in blurry flashes. The bar. Your friends. Satoru. Suguru.

And now this.

Waking up in their bed was unexpected.

You winced as the urge to pee hit you, the discomfort pulling you fully awake. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor as you prepared to stand. But before you could rise, a hand shot out, gripping your wrist.

The sudden tug sent you back onto the mattress, your heart skipping a beat as you turned to see who it was.

Satoru.

His snowy white hair was messy, his eyes still half-lidded with sleep as he pulled you closer to him, his grip firm but not painful.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled, his voice groggy yet tinged with something along the lines of annoyance.

“I… I need to pee,” you stammered, your voice hoarse as you tried to free yourself from his grasp.

Satoru’s eyes opened fully then, his bright blue gaze locking onto yours. He looked at you for a long moment before his lips curved into a sleepy grin. “Mmm, can’t you wait a little longer? It’s too early to get up.”

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, heavy and unmoving, trapping you in place. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he were anchoring you there.

“I’m serious…” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to squirm away, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Instead, you felt his grin against the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice soft and drowsy but carrying that familiar edge of control. “You’ll wake up Sugu… You can wait.”

The mention of Suguru made you freeze, your eyes darting toward the other side of the bed.

Sure enough, there he was.

Suguru lay on his side, his face calm and serene in sleep, his dark hair spilling over the pillow. His breathing was deep and even, the rise and fall of his chest almost hypnotic.

“You don’t want to wake him, do you?” Satoru hummed, his voice low and teasing, though there was something almost mocking in the way he said it.

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling heavily over you as Satoru’s arms remained firmly around your waist. He shifted slightly, nuzzling into the back of your neck like a contented cat.

“Just relax,” he murmured, his voice already trailing off as sleep pulled him back under.

You lay there, stiff and silent, the dull ache in your bladder forgotten as your mind raced.

The warmth of their bodies on either side of you, the sound of their steady breathing, the oppressive weight of Satoru’s arm around your waist—it was suffocating.

But you didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

Because somewhere deep down, beneath the haze of confusion and discomfort, a single, chilling thought crept into your mind:

They weren’t going to let you go.

And for now, it was easier to stay still. To let Satoru’s grip keep you in place, to let Suguru’s presence loom quietly beside you.

To endure.

Because what other choice did you have?

You waited an hour. Generously. The way your bladder felt like it was going to spill if you even moved an inch made it agonizing, but what else could you do?

Why did I have to drink so much? you thought bitterly, biting your lip to keep yourself from groaning.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, tinged with a small, desperate whine.

No response.

His soft snores filled the room, and you felt the faintest flutter of hope when you realized his arm had gone slack around your waist. It was loose enough—just enough—that you might be able to slip free without waking him.

Carefully, you began to move, inch by inch.

You winced at the painful, overfull feeling in your bladder, a burning reminder that if you waited even a second longer, you were sure you’d humiliate yourself. The thought of staining such expensive, silken sheets filled you with dread.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you managed to wriggle out of Satoru’s grip. He stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling back into his slumber.

You held your breath as you slid off the bed, crossing your legs tightly as you stood. The sensation made you want to scream, but you forced yourself to stay quiet, moving as carefully as you could across the room.

You reached the bathroom door, relief flooding through you as your hand grasped the handle.

But when you turned it, the handle didn’t budge.

It was locked.

Your stomach dropped, a cold wave of panic washing over you as you tried again, jiggling the handle more forcefully this time.

Still locked.

You glanced over your shoulder, your heart pounding as you looked back at the bed. Satoru hadn’t moved, his snores still soft and steady. Suguru remained motionless, his dark hair spilling over his pillow like ink.

You turned back to the door, biting your lip hard enough to sting. Why the hell was it locked?

You tried again, pressing your weight against the door this time, but it wouldn’t give.

Panic began to rise in your chest as you crossed your legs tighter, your body screaming at you for relief. You couldn’t go back to the bed—not now, not like this. You couldn’t face them if something went wrong.

Your bathroom was… across the apartment.

You could make it, right? You just had to waddle your way there.

The thought alone filled you with dread, but what choice did you have? The idea of pissing yourself in your weird roommates’ bedroom—on their luxurious, expensive sheets, no less—was enough to make your face burn with humiliation.

A soft, desperate whine escaped your throat as you shifted your weight. It’s too much.

But you had to try.

You moved carefully, every step a torturous mix of sharp, burning pressure and overwhelming panic. Your breaths came shallow and uneven, your legs trembling as you shuffled forward, praying the noise wouldn’t carry back to the bedroom.

It was just the hallway, the living room, and then the bathroom.

Easy, you told yourself, though the pounding of your heart and the sting of tears in your eyes screamed otherwise.

You barely made it to the end of the hallway before your legs gave out, your body sinking to the cold floor as a sob built in your throat.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, the humiliation of the situation crashing over you like a wave. You couldn’t stop them, hot streaks rolling down your cheeks as you clutched at your stomach, the pressure unbearable.

Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t the door just unlock? Why couldn’t you have made it just a little farther?

You pressed your forehead against your knees, trying to muffle the soft, broken whimpers escaping your lips. The silence of the apartment felt suffocating, every sound you made echoing in your ears like a cruel reminder of just how trapped you were.

And then, the sound you dreaded most.

Footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, heavy against the hardwood floors.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the footsteps grew louder, closer.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Suguru’s voice was soft, calm, almost soothing, but it made your stomach twist into knots.

You didn’t lift your head, your body trembling as his presence loomed over you. You could feel his gaze, heavy like he could see straight through you.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, crouching down so he was at eye level with you. His tone was steady, almost kind, but there was an edge to it that made your chest tighten.

“I… I just…” Your voice cracked, the words stumbling over themselves as you tried to think of an excuse, something that wouldn’t make this worse.

Suguru tilted his head, his dark hair falling over his shoulder as his sharp eyes scanned you. “You could’ve just woken me up if you needed something,” he said softly, his lips curving into a small, affectionate smile.

Before you could respond, another voice chimed in.

“She’s crying.”

You flinched at the familiar, teasing lilt of Satoru’s voice, your heart sinking further as you felt him approach.

“Aw, did we scare her?” he teased, his grin audible in his voice as he crouched beside Suguru, his bright blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

“It’s not that,” Suguru murmured, his gaze never leaving you. “She’s upset.”

“Hmm,” Satoru hummed, leaning in closer, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with something that made your chest tighten. “Why’s that, little gator? What’s got you all worked up, huh?”

You wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and vanish entirely. Anything to escape their piercing stares, the weight of their presence pressing down on you like a cage.

But then, you felt it.

The warmth spreading beneath you, dampening the hardwood floor.

Your breath caught in your throat as the realization struck you like a tidal wave. You’d pissed yourself.

Silent tears trickled down your cheeks, shame and humiliation crashing over you in waves as you dared a glance at Suguru.

His dark eyes flicked down to the wet patch spreading across the floor.

And then he smiled.

Not his usual small, measured smile, but something broader. Something that sent a wave of goosebumps.

Satoru followed Suguru’s gaze, his brows lifting in surprise before his grin widened into something almost predatory. “Well, would you look at that,” he murmured, his tone light and teasing but laced with something darker.

Suguru tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes meeting yours as he spoke.

“Clause 52,” he said softly, his voice calm and steady, like he was reciting something he’d known by heart.

Your stomach knotted further, anxiety pooling. You really should have took time to read the absurdly long lease.

“‘If a roommate is deemed unfit to take care of themselves, it becomes the other parties’ duty to assume full care of the roommate, gaining full autonomy over the party deemed unfit.’”

The words were a death knell, ringing in your ears as your tears fell faster.

“Unfit,” Satoru repeated, his tone dripping with mockery as he leaned closer, his hand gentle as it brushed a tear from your cheek. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think, Suguru?”

Suguru’s smile didn’t falter, his dark eyes steady as his hand came to rest on your trembling shoulder. “It’s not harsh if it’s true,” he replied softly, his voice almost tender, but the weight of his words crushed any chance of denial. “She clearly needs us.”

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to push away the rising panic. You clung to the last shreds of your dignity, your hands trembling as you tried to wipe your tears. “It was an accident. I just—”

“You just proved you can’t take care of yourself,” Suguru interrupted, his grip tightening slightly, his words cutting through your feeble attempts at an excuse.

Satoru chuckled, leaning against you, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker. “You know,” he started, his tone almost conversational, “we could have enacted Clause 52 sooner.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes darting to him as he tilted his head, his grin widening.

“I mean, your grades this semester? Not exactly stellar.” He chuckled, shaking his head as if scolding a child. “And let’s not forget that blunt you took from Shoko a few months back. You do know weed is very illegal in Japan, right?”

The blood drained from your face as he spoke, your mind scrambling to keep up with his words.

“Could’ve gone to jail,” Suguru added, his voice calm and matter-of-fact as he straightened, his hand leaving your shoulder only to slide under your legs.

You yelped as he scooped you up effortlessly, your body trembling as you tried to claw away from him, your hands weakly pushing against his chest.

“But a grown woman pissing herself?” Satoru said, standing and shaking his head as he followed Suguru toward the bathroom. “Now that’s a pretty clear sign you need help. I mean, we’d be neglecting you if we didn’t take care of you at this point.”

“Put me down!” you cried, your voice breaking as you struggled against Suguru’s hold, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Shh,” Suguru murmured, his grip unyielding as he carried you down the hall. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

Tears blurred your vision as the door to their bathroom came into view, the realization of just how powerless you were sinking in with every step.

Tears blurred your vision as the door to their bathroom came into view, the realization of just how powerless you were sinking in with every step.

“We’ll clean you up,” Satoru said brightly, his grin firmly in place as he swung the bathroom door open. His tone was light and teasing, but the words twisted in your stomach. “That’s what good boyfriends—sorry, roommates—do, right?”

Suguru carried you inside without hesitation, his movements smooth and calculated, like he’d done this a hundred times in his head. He set you down gently on the edge of the bathtub, his hands lingering on your arms as though steadying you. The care in his touch felt unnervingly intimate, blurring lines you hadn’t even realized were being crossed.

“I don’t need—” you started, your voice trembling, but Suguru cut you off.

“Do we need to treat you like a child too?” He hummed as he turned on the water, you noticed Satoru take a spot on the floor, his hand….gravitating to….

You forced yourself to look away. 

Instead pleading to Suguru that you can wash yourself, that he doesn’t need to climb into the tub with you pressing himself behind you. As he grabbed the handheld shower head, changing the settings as he deemed fit as you squirmed and sobbed. 

“Have to clean you now, hm?” He hummed behind you, changing the setting of the handheld shower head to the highest setting, the pressure was too much as you squirmed and clawed at his hands shaking your head. You looked over at Satoru the smile on his face, the way he seemed blissed out as he stroked his…

Oh god. 

They enjoyed this. 

You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as your cunt clenched onto nothing, as your clit was being tormented by the harsh pressure of the showerhead Suguru had directed. 

“Shhhh, just let go… I got you,” Suguru murmured, his voice low and soothing as he adjusted the spray of water once more, there was purpose in his insistent touches, firm and absolute.

You couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked your body, your tears mixing with the water cascading over your skin. Your mind felt like it was spinning, your thoughts fragmented and overwhelmed by the unbearable mix of sensations and emotions crashing over you.

And then, you reached the peak—your body betraying you, shuddering in his grip as your climax washed over you. Shame burned hot in your chest, your face flushed with humiliation as the sobs came harder, raw and broken.

Suguru’s hand never faltered, his movements steady as he lowered the setting on the showerhead to a gentle spray, hushing you softly as you came down from your high.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his tone almost tender as his hand smoothed over your damp skin. “Just let me take care of you.”

You couldn’t muster the strength to respond, your body trembling as exhaustion began to creep in.

But he wasn’t done.

Before you could catch your breath, Suguru adjusted the water pressure again, the sharp sensation snapping you back into focus as he began once more.

“No, please…” you whimpered, your voice weak and cracking as you squirmed in his hold.

“Shhh,” he hushed you, his lips brushing lightly against your temple as his grip tightened. “You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t have the strength to fight him.

Again and again, he pushed you over the edge, your sobs gradually giving way to soft, broken whimpers as your body betrayed you. Your limbs felt heavy, your mind clouded with a haze of exhaustion and humiliation.

By the time he finally relented, your eyes were half-lidded, sleep tugging at the edges of your consciousness.

Satoru, who had been watching the entire time, stood from his spot on the floor, his sharp blue eyes raking over your limp form with a grin that made your stomach twist.

“Since Suguru did a good job cleaning you up, think you can clean my mess?” Satoru’s voice was light, teasing, but the sharp glint in his blue eyes told you there was no room for refusal.

Your head weakly shook in response, your body trembling with exhaustion as you tried to avert your gaze.

But Suguru didn’t let you.

“Be a good girl,” he murmured, his voice calm but firm as his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face back toward them. His thumb pressed against your lips, prying them open with gentle insistence.

You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes again as his thumb slipped onto your tongue, the weight of his touch heavy and suffocating.

“There you go,” he said softly, almost soothing as though this was something to comfort you. “It’s easier if you don’t fight.”

Before you could protest, Satoru was pressing the tip of his cock onto your tongue, sliding his length down your throat despite your gags as Suguru ensured you wouldn’t bite down, keeping your mouth open.

“Good girl,” Satoru cooed, his voice low and saccharine as he watched you with amusement, the corners of his lips twitching upward as you instinctively flinched. “Be a good little gator, don’t bite”

You couldn’t stop the fresh wave of tears that trickled down your cheeks, your body frozen under the weight of their attention. Every movement felt heavy, every breath labored as you struggled to take the full length down your throat.

Suguru’s dark eyes bore into you, steady and unyielding. “See? You can do this,” he murmured, removing his thumb to help guide your head as you sucked on Satoru’s cock. “You’re already doing so well.”

“Better than I thought she would,” Satoru replied, a soft groan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, gently rocking his hips forward despite your tears, Suguru was forcing your head to bob on Satoru's length, keeping his touch gentle.

“We’re going to take such good care of you,” Suguru hummed, his voice smooth and steady as his hand’s methodical movements, his dark eyes gazing at you in adornment as you choked on the sticky white ropes that trickled down your throat. 

His words made your stomach twist, but the calmness in his tone—the way it almost sounded affectionate—made it all the more suffocating.

“I think we can work with this arrangement, right?” Suguru murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. His tone was calm, almost soothing, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

“We love you so much, don’t you know?” he continued, his voice softening further, as if the depth of their love for you was as much a burden for them as it was for you. “We’ll give you time to adjust to the new arrangement. Don’t you worry.”

You flinched, your body trembling from a cocktail of exhaustion and humiliation. The words wrapped around you like a cage, their gentleness only making the weight of them heavier. Your eyes darted toward Satoru, searching desperately for some sign of relief, some thread of normalcy—but his expression only made your stomach twist.

His smile was lovesick, almost dazed, his half-lidded eyes clouded with fatigue, likely from his final exam. Yet his fingers found their way to the top of your head, the touch soft and deliberate, giving you a gentle, almost affectionate pat.

The gesture should have been comforting. It should have eased the tightness in your chest. Instead, it felt like a reminder—a quiet assertion of control, of just how tightly you were bound to them.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, shall we?” Satoru said, his voice light and teasing, laced with his usual carefree charm. But beneath the playful tone, there was an undertone of finality, a quiet edge that made it clear this wasn’t a suggestion.

Suguru’s hands were steady as he adjusted the towel around your body, his touch disarmingly gentle, as though he were savoring the act of caring for you. Each movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were worshipping the process of drying you off. He ensured the towel wrapped around you modestly, yet his fingers lingered just long enough to make you question if there was more to his care.

When he stood, his tall frame towering over you, he extended a hand. His dark eyes met yours, calm and unreadable, as if silently urging you to trust him.

You hesitated. Every instinct screamed at you to pull away, to run, to do something. But the exhaustion weighed you down, rooting you in place. Your legs felt like lead, your thoughts foggy and scattered, a tangle of fear and resignation you couldn’t untangle.

“You’re tired,” Suguru murmured, his voice a soothing balm that did little to ease the tightness in your chest. There was an undercurrent of quiet authority in his tone, one that made resistance feel futile.

His hand enveloped yours, warm and steady, guiding you to your feet before you could summon the strength to protest. “Let us take care of you,” he said softly, the words carrying a tenderness that felt at odds with the unease curling in your stomach.

Satoru was already waiting by the door, leaning casually against the frame. His bright blue eyes watched you with his signature grin—a grin that normally felt harmless but now carried an edge that made your chest tighten. “Come on, little gator,” he cooed, beckoning you with a casual wave. “We’ve got everything ready for you.”

You let them guide you, too drained to resist. Suguru’s hand rested lightly on your lower back, steadying you as Satoru walked ahead, his playful hum filling the quiet hall.

When you finally crawled into the cool sheets, your body sagged into the mattress, the weight of the day pressing down on you. The bath had left your skin warm and your limbs heavy, the overstimulation making it impossible to think straight. Exhaustion was a tide, pulling you under, and for a fleeting moment, you were grateful for the comfort they had so carefully orchestrated.

Perhaps you were too far gone to notice—or to care—about the faint noises behind you. The soft murmur of voices, the rustle of fabric, the low, intimate sound of Satoru’s moan as he lowered himself onto Suguru.

Your mind barely registered it, the sound blurring into the background as sleep took hold. You ignored the quiet gasp, the rhythmic creak of the mattress in the other room, and the muted groan that followed.

The warmth of the blankets, the scent of lavender, the haze of exhaustion—all of it conspired to drag you deeper into unconsciousness, letting the world fade away as your body surrendered to sleep.

[zyafics]

ANGRY GOD | 02

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — S2!Rafe Cameron x (F)Reader

Summary — Rafe always struggled with being the only person in his head. When he meets you on the balcony of Tannyhill, everything changes. As sweet and kind as you appear to be, you turn out to be a reflection of Rafe and his dark thoughts. A burnt soul. A perfect companion. But as much as he wants you, as much as you deserve each other, something stands in the way: your relationship with JJ.

Content — angst, suggestive themes, cheating (not on each other), minor blood kink, rafe does coke, reader smokes cigarettes, toxic dynamic, obsessive and psychopathic behavior, and subtle dubcon.

Word Count — 3.9K

lıllılı Deja Vu and She's Mine Pt. 1 by J Cole

Dedication — to @cybersunnie who read it first and gave me lovely feedback, ily my southeast asian bestie <3

Rafe looks for you everywhere.

Ever since that fateful night, he had searched every room and crowd for a glimpse of your face. Most times, he doesn't find what he's looking for, and a lump of frustration curls up his throat. A wasted effort, he tells himself, to look for someone who isn't his, but he does it anyway.

He's never been good at letting go of things that belonged to him.

Tonight's bonfire is on the beach. The firepit is surrounded by keggers lined neatly along the edges, and the salty tang of driftwood smoke hangs in the air. Flickering embers roared to the sky, while the drunken crowd moved in scattered clusters, their laughter coalescing with the music as they stumble over their steps. Rafe can't help but scoff at the very sight.

He had snorted a couple of lines before his arrival. Nothing calms him down quicker than strips of white powder that substitute for dopamine, but it still isn't quite the replacement he's looking for. It may make him feel lighter, unable to feel the depth of his soul sinking like an anchor to the bottom of the ocean floor, but it's ineffective. Riffled with the knowledge that there's something better for him out in the world, something that mirrors the use of a drug, something that can save him.

You.

Rafe sips on the beer he's been nursing for the past half-hour—coke and liquor are a hangover's bitch—and his eyes survey the mass of people in futile efforts. Everyone has arrived, including those Pogue friends of yours, but there are still no traces of you. Once again, Rafe believes that you've decided to forgo the invite to forget him.

Until he finds you off in the distance.

In the corner of the world, sitting on the shore and counting waves, with your legs drawn to your chest and your arms draped across your knees. Parties have always been a troublesome endeavor for you, rekindling old memories you want nothing more than to forget, but you always find yourself succumbing to one. It's a nasty habit you're unable to break.

You had slipped away—from the masses, from your friends, from JJ—for some peace on the edge of the earth. No one seems to have noticed your missing presence. At least, that's what you believe.

Something settles at your side, darkening your solace with its thick presence, and you turn to discover Rafe. He sinks into the empty space beside you, cold brew in hand, and refuses to meet your gaze. Your heartbeat skips, alarm bells activating and cautioning you to leave, but you choose to stay.

Silence engulfs the air and despite the heavy bass reverberating through the air and the flurries of chatters from Kooks and Pogues alike, none of that seems to matter. As always, with Rafe, it feels like you two are the only people remaining on Earth, spinning on its axis, waiting.

It isn't like this with anyone else.

"You've been ignoring me," Rafe announces flatly. His stare set to the horizon of the coastline, watching waves flatten into the salt-soaked sand inches away from his feet.

"I haven't," you defend, a little too quickly, wincing at the projection of your voice. "We just haven't been going to the same places."

He scoffs dryly, "Because you've been ignoring me."

You shake your head softly, but Rafe doesn't acknowledge the gesture. You doubt he cares. It mirrors you in that aspect, knowing exactly how his mind behaves—believing his version of events to be the only correct reality. Nothing you do, or say, will change it.

It's hard to talk to someone who's stubborn.

It's worse when the person knows you too well.

Because in some ways, he's right. Several invitations to various functions have been sent, but you've opted out of attending any of them. Partly because you don't want to be in that environment. Mostly because you're afraid of facing Rafe. You had assumed it'd be an easy facade to maintain—just as the rest of your friends suspected you simply weren't into parties—but Rafe sees directly through you, like glass.

He resists the urge to look at you. Fearing if he does, he'll never stop. It isn't enough for him to be within your proximity, he wants to have you, and it's a debilitating feeling to know he can't. Blood coats his senses, and he realizes he bite his tongue too hard.

Yet, he feels the heat of your stare on his profile. Your eyes sweep over every feature, every twitch of muscle as if you're committing to memory the days you haven't seen him. Pride finds him in that regard—to know he consumes your thoughts as much as you consumed him.

He begs to be wanted.

He wants you to beg for him.

"Your bruises are healing nicely," you say softly, admiring the faded damning colors of his assault to the healing yellows that smother his skin. "That's good."

His resolve breaks and Rafe turns. The corner of his lips lifts. "You would care, wouldn't you?"

You blink in surprise, but Rafe takes it as some protest of resilience. You won't admit it, as much as you want him, as much as you need him, and the anguish seeps into his bones. unable to detangle itself from skin. "Of course I do," you stutter a reply, "I patched you up."

"But it isn't the only reason," he presses, "Is it?"

His eyes meet yours, and it rivals the first look he's ever given you. Full of scorn and disdain, Rafe had once wanted nothing more than you to be out of his sight. Now, he can't have enough of it.

It evokes honesty in you. "It isn't."

Rafe grins, taking any small victory as a celebration.

You can't take it, deciding to break contact to reach into the pockets of your shorts. You fish out the lighter and a small box of cigarettes before torching the end of the stick and inhaling a sharp breath. Nicotine slithers into your system, calming your raging nerves.

Rafe watches with amusement. He had always hated a woman who smokes. It was unorthodox, dirty, and not someone he sees himself with. But when he watches the way the puff of smoke exits your lips, the calamity smoothening your features, he's never wanted to kiss you more.

“You smoke?” Rafe asks as you lower the cigarette to your side. The butt of the blunt brushes against the grains of sand.

“Yeah.” You say timidly. “It’s a bad habit I can’t break.”

"Interesting."

"What?"

"Didn't take you as a smoker," Rafe confesses, but something in his statement reeks of judgment. As much as you hate the need to be validated by others, something about Rafe leaves you desiring acceptance.

You scramble to form an excuse. “I only do it when I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?”

You don't respond, but you're sure the split-second expression on your face revealed it all. Pressing your lips together, you rip your gaze from Rafe to look back to the ocean currents, raging and coursing through the tides as if a storm is brewing. You hoped this respite would dissolve the tension in the air, but it doesn't.

Thick and hot, you can't decide if it's the heat of the firepit against your backside or the idea of Rafe's close—too close—proximity to you. Your truth. The persona you've carefully crafted on the verge of collapsing.

Rafe finally understands why you don't go to parties. Even if you don't explicitly state it; it's him. The way he can read you, understand you, and make you feel. A parallel of himself in you that feels like a reflection against a pond. It scares you. It terrifies him. Yet he can't get enough of it.

You clear your throat, taking another puff of your cigarette, before returning your gaze back to him. "You left your own party again."

Is this what you want to talk about? Rafe would rather push past the small talk, but he entertains it nonetheless. At least it's something to keep you close. "It's not my party."

"Right." You hum, inhaling a nicotine-saturated breath that hisses and chars the end of the blunt. "But you left it all the same. Shouldn't you be with your friends?"

"I could ask the same about you."

"I asked you first."

"Is that how you want to play it?"

Rafe cocks his head in challenge, armed with the mockery and condescension of his dripping tone. But it's not aimed at you, but rather for you. A provocation that asks: one of us is lying here, who will it be?

"You're baiting me," you announce, digging the burnt end of the cigarette into the sand to extinguish it. "It's not going to work."

Rather than take offense from your blatant callout, he scoffs out a smirk. His perfect teeth glistened underneath the moonlight, which can almost be read as fangs.

"Smart girl too," he muses, more to himself than you, before taking a swing of his beer. Directing his line of vision towards the darkened horizon, you watch him swallow with a bob of his Adam's apple. "I was looking for you."

"Me?" You repeat. "Why would you be looking for me?"

"Don't act dumb, princess. It's not cute."

Silence stretches among you, and the only soothing sound of this moment is the cascades of water meeting sand. Your heart doubles its tempo, reconciling with Rafe's words before he pierces the quietude with another confession. "They don't care."

This time, you don't play dumb. You know exactly what he's referring to. Rafe made a bold accusation that his friends don't care about him, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he is right.

From what you heard from your own group, no one is friends with Rafe. Not really. All they want is to get out of his way, to avoid being the receiving end of his wrath. Rapport is the closest method towards that settlement. A falsehood for security. He had come to the bitter realization on his own; that no one is real with him except you.

You don't take the time to be frivolous and reassure him with meaningless consolation. You cut straight to the chase.

"Then why come?" You ask, not knowing if he'll respond. But what you don't know is Rafe would answer almost anything if it came from you. "Why attend something when none of these people care about you?"

The instantaneous reply is a howling wind from the ocean, breezing over your skin and raising goosebumps on your arms. But you remain still. Unsure if Rafe will answer, you wait until he admits, "It's better than being alone."

All the air leaves your lungs.

Your heart pumps like it's about to burst.

Because Rafe confirms what you’re thinking.

And you feel the same way.

You're certain you're in an exact predicament but you don't have the courage to voice it. The Pogues only tolerate you because you're in this relationship with JJ, but you have a sinking feeling that it's just the novelty. Something short and fleeting. Something false.

You entered it under the assumption that JJ understood you—a burnt soul recognizing a companion. But that's proven to be completely untrue. JJ may have faced hardships, but his entire network is built on camaraderie. You never had that. Neither did Rafe.

Maybe that's why you gravitate towards him.

Maybe that's why you're afraid.

"Why are you here?" Rafe prompts, turning the spotlight back onto you.

You lick your lips, suddenly dry. "The Pogues invited—"

"No, don't give me that bullshit," he snaps, but his tone lacks the bite. All it demands is truth. "I mean, why did you come this time? You've been avoiding me for a reason."

You scoff. "You know."

A cruel smirk carves the corner of his mouth, framed with an innocent dimple. "I want to hear you say it."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you're a liar, princess. Just like all of them."

Fire ignites in your chest by his accusation, reminding you closely of that night at Tannyhill, and your hands squeeze into tight fists. Sucking on the inside of your cheek, and licking the residual nicotine sticking to your gums, give you a minor boost of confidence. "I thought if I didn't, they'd stop inviting me."

You exhale a blow of air, similar to your cigarette, but a heavy weight lifts off your chest. You don't turn to meet Rafe's eyes, but you feel the heat of his stare.

Rafe grins, self-satisfaction ripples through his features in unparalleled triumph. "Just like me."

"Don't be a dick," you declare.

"I'm not trying to." He says. "It's just ironic."

"Ironic how?"

He takes a second to answer, lingering on the moment by sipping on the rim of his beer, letting a slow, singular drop fall from the corner of his mouth. "Because every party I've seen you at, you're always escaping it."

You shrink under this observation, nails buried into the sand to find grounding. "I needed a break."

"All the time?" He taunts.

You say absolutely nothing. And Rafe chuckles dryly. "The girl who always leaves the party. The boy who needs it. We'll make a good couple."

You lift your head. "Is that your criteria for a relationship?"

"No. But I'll take any excuse to have you."

Your breath stutters in your throat. From your previous interaction with Rafe, you concluded that he cuts through the drivel. But it's different this time around. Now, it riffled with the knowledge of knowing you, of wanting you.

Rafe always had a single-minded ambition, the type to chase after his goal until he captured it within the palm of his hand. That's you to him.

Morals be damned. As long as he has you.

To be wanted like that terrifies you. With your heart palpitating in your chest, you feel the urge to rebuild your walls. To add that familiar and safe space between you and him. "Rafe..." You trail off in warning.

Instantaneously, as if he can read you, he knows why.

Frowning, Rafe says, "Hm. Forget you're with Maybank."

You don't think that's entirely true.

"I should get back," to him, but that part remains unspoken.

Rising from your seat, you dust off the sheen coat of sand under your thighs before motioning to leave. But Rafe snatches your wrist. His grip is firm but loose enough for you to slip out, only begging you not to.

You look down, however Rafe refuses to meet your gaze. In fact, he avoids it, opting for the dark coastline that rivals the turbulent feeling in his chest. "Why are you with him?" He whispers against the wind, his tone seeping with vulnerability. "Why are you with him when you can be with me?"

You don't know how to answer that. "He was nice to me."

"I can be nice to you."

You shake your head. "It's not the same."

"Why not?" Rafe asks wretchedly, lifting his head to finally meet your gaze and you read how broken he truly is. Your chest tightens. His icy blue eyes warmed with desperation, and his grip around your wrist tightens, like a beggar seeking approval.

For a moment, you considered lying. It's the easiest way out. But there's no one here but the two of you. No one to perform to. No one but an audience who knows you soul-deep. How do you lie out of this one?

"I think you need me," you whisper. "I don't know how to be needed like that."

If you were anyone else, he'd feel insulted. To insinuate he needs someone—anyone—to function implies he's weak. That he's dependent on another. But Rafe hasn't felt this sense of gratification in years. A kinship that emerges from a soul recognizing a burnt soul. He can't lose that.

"Neither do I," he answers, almost pleading. "Let's try it out."

"Try what?"

"Us." He urges. "You and me."

You shouldn't, but you can't help but consider the proposal. It's awful, especially knowing you're in a committed relationship—as committed as you can be—and you try to build excuses and logic on why this couldn't work. Why it shouldn't work. But all of them fell flat.

"You hate me."

"I didn't know you."

"You called me a bitch."

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely.

"You called me a liar," you accuse, unmasking the sting from the label.

"You are," Rafe insists without missing a beat. "But I'll take it."

You chew on your bottom lip, gnawing on the raw, broken skin until you taste iron. "I don't know," you admit, voice low, chest heavy. "I don't know if I can save you, Rafe."

This time, he doesn't have a response. This time, he's rendered speechless. It's a confessional—what he truly desires from you is redemption. To possess a mirror that resolves him of his own sins.

His fingers loosen around your wrist.

"I have to go," you say softly, taking a step towards the exit.

But it isn't quick enough.

Rafe grabs you again and gives you one last tug, forcing you to land on his lap. Before you can move, he grabs the nape of your neck and pulls you close, forehead pressed against his, chest meeting the other.

You feel the rapid thumping of his own heartbeats.

"One taste," Rafe murmurs, his eyes on yours and they're pitch-black, all dissolved of his color. "Just one taste and I'll let you go."

"One?" You ask meekly, your heart threatening to spill.

"One." He confirms, reeking of the same desperation he's always been ashamed of revealing. But he doesn't care anymore. "And you can go back to Maybank and do whatever the fuck you want."

You search his face, trying to read him, but nothing but pure primal instinct coats his rugged features. He wants you—in a way that's so animalistic, he's actively holding himself back from taking more. A sick satisfaction curves up your throat at being desired by such capacity.

"Okay."

Rafe doesn't give you a moment to retract your consent before he drags your mouth down to his, silencing every pounding thought with a kiss.

Instinctively, you steel your spine from the assault before slowly unwinding. From all the venom and vile words spilled from Rafe's tongue, his mouth is surprisingly soft and tender. His kiss is rich with desire, gripped with desperation, and it pours all his silent confessions into one. Your heart has never raced so frantically but has never been this calm.

You want this.

Logic and reason chip away when you feel how warm Rafe is. How he laps over the broken piece of your bottom lip like worship, how he craves you with the depravity of a man receiving his last meal, licking you clean until you're nothing but bones.

It's intoxicating. Where has Rafe been all your life? Why haven't you done this sooner? Your mind can't find a proper answer until a slow, nauseating reminder strikes your drunken and lustful state. It's because you're taken. It answers. You're committed to someone who isn't him.

Pulling away, you breathe, "Rafe—"

"Not enough," he declares roughly, dragging your back and stealing another kiss. It's as if it's the only air he's willing to take. He demands it—it's his.

And yet, for all your stream of moral consciousness, there's little resistance.

You allow him to take you. Devour you. To suck on your bottom lip until a metallic tang is shared between you, and to feel the warm liquid ooze onto your tongue like sacred waters. He tastes so good, and Rafe's hands fall from your arm to your waist, tugging you along until you're centered on his lap. With an automatic roll of your hips, he groans, and you feel the growing erection form in his jeans demonstrating his obsession with you.

It's just one. But one kiss turns into two and three, and suddenly you can't stop. Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment with Rafe.

Pulling back a second time, your murmur against his swollen lips. "This is a bad idea."

"This is the best goddamn idea I've ever had," he breathes into your mouth, his hand straying to cup a handful of your ass under your shorts. "You taste better than I imagined."

"What do I taste like?"

"Mine," Rafe answers breathily, before cupping the back of your neck once again and aligning your mouth to his.

Addiction. Rafe is certain that's what this is. The way you rock against him, the way your body molds into his—like a perfect puzzle finding its match—he can't help but believe in fate. It infuriates him that it took him this long.

But even in a perfect moment, the illusion quickly shatters by a grating voice from the distance. Rafe wants nothing more than to ignore its bugging nuisance, but you can't seem to.

Because it's your boyfriend.

You rip away from Rafe to discover JJ's silhouette approaching the shore, searching for you. Panic zigzags through your chest and you swiftly leave Rafe's lap, brushing away any criminalizing evidence of your infidelity.

"That's one. We're done."

When JJ arrives, Rafe doesn't move. He doesn't even make a gesture to conceal the situation as JJ's eyes dart between the two of you, trying to piece together what you were doing with the Kook in the first place.

But no one reveals a thing. Not even you. You quickly apologize for leaving the party and fumble a flimsy excuse for Rafe's presence. And JJ's birdbrain accepts it, causing Rafe to scoff at the fool you're with.

When he takes your hand, leading you back to the party, you quickly accept—dragging yourself into the same space you beg to break from. And doing nothing but leaving Rafe behind.

He could leave now. After all, he came out to the shores searching for you. But there's a calamity that comes from being out here. Seeing the waters, watching the crashing of the waves. It allows him to truly think—away from the noises, away from the people, away from all the meaningless distractions.

Rafe swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, feeling the buzzing sensation left behind from your kiss, and collects a single droplet of blood. It must've spilled from you, or his bitten tongue, he doesn't know for sure. All he does is slip it right back into his mouth.

And for the first time throughout this entire night, Rafe grins. A real one. A devious one. Because he's coming to a familiar conclusion.

You parade among the people who don't give a damn about you, who don't know a single truth, and pretend you fit in their world. But you don't. You're a liar.

But as Rafe remembers the taste of your hot lips on his, the way your body fits in with his, the taste of your blood on his tongue—he realizes, so is he.

Because there's no way that is the last time he'll kiss you. That he has you. No. He had one taste and it wasn't enough.

Rafe is coming back for more.

Whether you like it or not.

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Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02 | Part 03 / End

[mrblackhood234]

MY WIFE FROM HELL (Dem!Wonyoung X Male Reader)

Well you are a demonologist, you have studied different kinds of demon and participated in paranormal activities, you have a partner named Taehyun, both of you are paranormal experts so whenever there's a paranormal stuffs going on in someone stuffs and the church refused to help or unable to, they called for people like you.

"You know taehyun, I somehow wonder how beautiful a demon girl can be?" You asked eating a burger

"They are definitely one heck of a beauty but they are so demonic that it'll scare the shit out of you" Taehyun said

"Yeah, they will drain you down to the last spiritual power of yours being gifted with a skill that can talk and travel through hells door and is something so terrifying" you said

"Not all of the demons are that bad my love" a woman spoke behind you surprising both of you

You turn your gaze towards the woman so as taehyun and both of you were surprised to see the beauty she has making your heart skip a beat

"Some of them just wanted to explore the earth and maybe.... Find a suitable human to make it theirs to keep" she sad leaning closer to you

"And who are you?" You asked blushing

"Your cute, I can see something very special in your eyes, a gift that no one could ever dreamed of.... A power to open the gates of hell and talk to highest demon and a gift to visit the heavens.... A gift so rare that God might have given to someone so pure..." She said and lower her shades a little

You stared into her eyes and saw it glows as you felt that you were pulled back into a unknown place where everything is forgotten, destroyed, burned down, a scent of burnt things surround the environment then you saw the demonic figure at the distance, it was a figure of a woman, she has four large devil wings and two big horns at her forehead and her eyes were like a burning fire.

She stood in 5 foot and 8 inches tall and her presence alone gave you the creeps making if for you hard to breathe then she walk towards you and you wanted to run but every ounce of your strength depleted and you cannot move an inch, everything is frozen as she get near your heart kept beating rapidly and then you finally saw her appearance she is the same woman who spoke behind you earlier, her face and body were covered with black stripes and she has sharp fangs and then she cupped your cheek.

"a rare human like you shouldn't be in the hands of Michael nor Lucifer, I will make you mine. I'm sure the highest doesn't mind. Now go back!" She said

Then you back to the reality and saw the woman standing in front of you and Taehyun who look so confused on what's going on.

"You..." You spoke

Then she kisses your lips surprising you and Taehyun then she places a finger in her lips winking at you

"Keep it a secret my dear, no one has to know" she said "My name is Jang Wonyoung, pleased to meet you Mr. L/n Y/n"

"Uh yeah..." You said

"I'll see you later, goodbye handsome" She said and wink at you and bowed at taehyun and walk away

"I have a bad feeling about her Y/n" Taehyun said

"Same" you said

~•~

It was night, you are inside your bedroom sleeping each corner were covered in darkness the only source of light you have now is moonlight that passes through your window. You felt an urge to wake up making you open your eyes and found yourself sitting at your bedside your eyes shifted in every corner feeling an unknown presence surrounding your bedroom then you sighs and spoke

"Whoever you are show yourself, I'm not scared of you" you said

A giggle echoed the surrounding and revealed a woman leaning to the wall with her arms crossed to her chest, right foot leaning to the wall and other one on the floor.

"Jang Wonyoung isn't it?" You spoke

"Glad you remembered" Wonyoung appeared out of nowhere

"What do you want from me?" You asked

"from you? Well nothing, I don't need anything fancy I just want you" Wonyoung said

She then crawl towards you and straddle your legs cupping your cheeks staring deeply into your eyes, her eyes glowed like a fire and you can feel the heavy presence she's releasing the moment you met her gaze it feels like you were being taken somewhere, a place unknown to mankind then she giggles admiring your facial features.

"So what do you say y/n? Want to become mine?" Wonyoung said

"Why are you doing this?" You aske

"Well I like you young man, ever since I met you back at the hell's fiery pit, you, a teenage boy freed a demon like me from the other demon grasp and gave me eternal power beyond one's imagination.... I'm sure you remember me young man" Wonyoung said

You then remember a certain memory from your past. It was when you use your gift to travel somewhere far from he human realm, a place where souls of human go after their death. A couple asked for your help to free their daughter from being possessed by the demon, out of pity, you used your gift to travel to the place that they called hell, while wondering you encountered so many demons and different kind of creatures and that leads you to meeting a female demon who's being punished in the fiery pit.

She was begging for your help, at first you didn't want to because she's a demon but your kind heart leads you to freeing her from the fiery pit and ask her help to find the young girl who's lost in hell. She did help you and you manage to find her and save her but the female demon asked for one more favour to you and that is to find the book hidden somewhere within the depth of the place they call the hidden ocean of hell.

You manage to find the book and gave it to her and she smiled and hug you and you remembered what she said.

"You know boy, I like you should I marry you if I ever came to human realm?" She said

You chuckles and thought she's lying so you decided to go along with it

"Sure why not? I'll be really happy to marry a beautiful girl like you and you better not cheat on me or I'll exorcise you!" You said

"I won't, I give you my word for it" she said "if I ever see you I will find you and you cannot get away from me"

"I won't dare" you said

Then she kissed your lips and you felt something engulf inside your heart and she helped you leave the hell and you finally remembered her and now she's here in this human realm, inside your bedroom, straddling you cupping your cheeks and she's here to meet the end of your bargain.

"now do you remember me?" Wonyoung said

"Wonyoung?" You said

"hi honey, I came here to marry you, meeting the end of our promise" Wonyoung said

"I thought your lying" you said

"I'm not and you will not get away from me" Wonyoung said

You smiled "I won't dare to"

"I love you y/n" Wonyoung said

"I love you too Wonyoung" you said

Then you guys shared a deep passionate kiss as you pull her closer succumbing to the feeling that has been sealed away for years. You and Wonyoung made love together, showing the deep affection you guys have for each other, sealing the deal off, that night Wonyoung became yours to keep, yours to love, yours forever.

Morning comes, you woke up and found yourself inside the bedroom all alone, you sat up and look around and found no one you sighs and maybe Wonyoung only came to meet the end of your promise your heart aches

"I guess it's just a dream then" you said and sighs

You decided to fix yourself but your bedroom door opened revealing Wonyoung who's wearing your white polo shirt and it looks so good on her your heart beats faster as happiness take over you

"hi honey, you are asleep and I prepared breakfast" Wonyoung said

You chuckles and stood up then pulling her closer

"oh what's this?" Wonyoung smiled

"nothing, I love you Wonyoung" you said

"I love you too honey come on, let's go down" Wonyoung

You and Wonyoung ate breakfast together and you guys shared stories and you asked her where have she been and she told you what happened and you also told her that you have been waiting for her to show up but when your about to give up she came around.

"you must've missed me huh?" You asked

"a lot" Wonyoung chuckles

~•~

You were back at your work, paperwork's about places full of haunted things and your phone rang, you took it and it was an unknown number you answered it

"hello?" You answered

"hello is this Mr. Y/n?"

"Yes this is y/n speaking" you answered

"Can you help us? My daughter.... I heard that you are best in this field" she spoke

"Fine, just tell me the address and I'll come right there" you said

The woman told you the address and you called Taehyun. You started your car and taehyun came with you then you drove to the address the woman have given you. Wonyoung is scribbling on the paper when her eyes glowed red and she felt a spark in her chest.

"This fucking demons!" Wonyoung stood up

You arrived at the designated place with taehyun, you knocked on the door and it was opened by a woman, she look like she's been awake for days now and she seems like she's tired

"Are you Ms. Clara dean?" You asked

"Yes please come in" Clara said

You and Taehyun went inside and she lead you upstairs

"She's inside the room, we tied her up so she cannot hurt anyone" Clara said

"Let me take a look on her" you said

She let you in and then you saw a girl sitting in the bed then she turn around she was smiling widely then Clara smirks and lock the door

"you said she's tied up?" You said

"She just locked us out" Taehyun said

"Oh shit" you said

Then the girl jump on you and Taehyun. Clara went downstairs and pulled out a note book slashing your number that was written on the notebook.

"Sorry young men, she just need something to eat" then she left the house to buy something

Clara went out of the gate but she was choked up by Wonyoung who's eyes glowing red

"Where is my husband little demon?" Wonyoung were burning in fury

Clara were surprised to see Wonyoung

"Jang.... Wonyoung...?" Clara said

"you dare kill more people? I'll fucking send you back to hell!!!" Wonyoung said and threw her to the wall of the house

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter XIV

"lies, control, rules, numb, hatred, emptiness."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of war/military, drugs, gangs and corruption, blood and executions yikes, anxiety, a cute lil menty b, SMUT (mdni!! fingering, unprotected sex (do NAWT do this), peak intimacy.

chapter wc: 14.8k

chapter synopsis: you introduce silver light as an analgesic by the name of sylunox at a television broadcast, creating a stir in public as they point fingers at their politicians for keeping this a secret. assemblyman wi agrees to play double agent and reveals a discovery about president lee that he aims to investigate. president lee announces 15 spies caught to be publicly executed at the eden square but you learn that they are innocent and attempt to save them. you fail and have no choice but to join hands with secretary park so you return to sector 1 to say your goodbyes. hongjoong comes to your place to make sure you are alright and the night takes an intimate turn.

prev chapter recap: tiffany tipped the navy as per president lee’s order in fear that he would expose her hala lineage and indict her of international crimes. hongjoong urges her to continue complying with the president on the condition that she inform them of his activities. hongjoong feels doubtful after the meeting but you make up with him and assure him to believe in himself. you meet secretary park and he asks you to come back and inherit his business. you inquire about the ring but he admits it is a secret he cannot reveal. you refuse to comply but sunghoon warns you that he will have his way. you confide in wendy who assures you that the crescents have your back and that she understands your circumstances. president lee makes a public announcement where he covers the dispatched troop as a ‘special forces operation’ to catch and punish spies. the crescents decide to make silver light public and hongjoong promotes you to a shareholder and the face of their pharmaceutical side. you have a deep, vulnerable conversation with him. the crescents release a news article which sheds light on the president’s suspicious involvement in strictland. this leads to an attack on you while you are driving with winter and the informant kids. while nobody gets injured, hongjoong rounds up all crew to remind them of their loyalties.

For someone who used to find refuge in the darkest shadows, you were at an odd place now with the brightest white lights shining on and almost blinding you. There was not a shadow in sight.

You blinked a few times to get your eyes adjusted to the studio lights, straightening your posture and smiling dutifully at the host of The Evening Show With Sunny. Sunny was a news anchor loved by the public and had her own talk show where she hosted and interviewed a wide range of people– from celebrities and politicians to business figures and soldiers. 

Tonight, you were here as the head of the pharmaceutical line of The Crescent Company. It should have been Hongjoong sitting here tonight, you thought for the umpteenth time. Or Seonghwa. The two had done so much to have silver light launch as a medicinal drug. Or it could have been San or Yeosang who were risking their lives each day to get the product to be manufactured.

Instead, it was you. You had to remind yourself that you deserved to be here, like the Crescents affirmed again and again. You had every right to be here. You had done enough. You had earned this. 

You are a Crescent. Your past or your lineage does not matter. All that matters is that you are one of us now.

Hongjoong knew just the right words to say before your official debut as a Crescent. Internally sighing, you looked towards where Wooyoung and San stood with the production team, tangled in the wires as they awkwardly looked around, looking so out of place. When Wooyoung noticed you watching them, he smiled and gave you a thumbs up, San following soon after. 

You would be fine. 

You were the face of the pharmaceutical line. You were going to make not one but several statements today, most of them political and controversial in nature. You were going to put on a brave front. You had one shot to show the world what The Crescent Company stood for. 

“Are you ready?” Sunny asked as she settled down on the sofa seat across from you and you nodded, taking a deep breath. She went on in a mechanical tone to assure you that you would do fine, that she was going to follow the script and there would be no unexpected surprises. She probably assured every guest on her show in a similar manner. 

The makeup artist approached you one last time, fixing your hair that was styled in a slick back, as well as dabbing at your forehead with a smile– there were surely beads of sweat on there. You fixed your pearl ring and rested your hands over the black pants of your velvet suit. Once in position, the director called a countdown and Sunny did her introductions of the show. 

The first half, which was 15 minutes of introductions and background, passed by swiftly. You introduced the Crescent Company as mainly a manufacturing business, working with Pledis who were a private company that manufactured electronic components such as resistors, capacitors, transistors, and diodes among various other things. Their latest endeavour with Pledis was producing their own car components to keep up with the times, supplying mostly to local car companies. 

Sunny then asked about the other side projects of the Crescent Company and you introduced the Crescent Bar as a place of comfort for the people of Sector 1. The bar was a spot where people came to drink after a tiring day of work, where men and women who served in the war came to share stories and comfort, where the elderly found company when they missed their family. Upon asking, you admitted that the Crescent Bar would like to expand their business, possibly in Edenary. 

Finally, you introduced the pharmaceutical side of the business briefly before the advertisement break. You detailed their partnership with MX Pharmaceuticals which was an established and well-respected company, their gangster background long forgiven and forgotten. Sunny asked if the Crescents were just shareholders, and you finally announced that there was a drug that the Crescent Company was hoping to launch into the market. 

As expected, during the 3 minute break, the producers of the show got several calls to stop the broadcast. However, a deal was already made with Mr. Ju Jihoon through his nephew Ju Seok Tae, and even the other co-owner of Eden News did not reserve the right to stop the broadcast as this was Mr. Ju’s domain. 

San and Wooyoung were there to assure the staff that there would be no problems, no damage control for them. Everything would be okay– no one was going to get fired after today’s broadcast. They did not need to assume an intimidating stance to convince them, for their name was promise enough. 

Sunny was probably used to such broadcasts, or she was an expert at remaining calm as the room switched from hushed murmurs to silence. The three minutes were up, and you both nodded at each other, aware that the next part of the broadcast would change everything. 

“Hello, Eden. We’re back to The Evening Show with your favourite host, Sunny. Tonight, we’re interviewing a new face of The Crescent Company, Miss Luna, who introduced herself as the person in charge of the pharmaceutical line of the long-standing business company. The Crescent Company is a major shareholder of MX Pharmaceuticals and it looks like they have big plans for a new drug launch. Luna, would you introduce the drug to the viewers?”

You nodded and looked towards the camera, assuming confidence and starting.

“The medicinal drug that The Crescent Company is aiming to launch is called ‘Sylunox’. It is an opiate analgesic. We have collaborated with MX Pharmaceuticals to conduct research and created the final product, which is a 5mg tablet with 3.5% of its original ingredient. As with any other opioid drug, it has its side effects but with our drug, the side effects are very manageable. 

“We’re ecstatic to finally launch it in the market and we hope that the medicine will be beneficial to both doctors and the patients. Our target is to collaborate with anaesthesia and medicine so we can administer the right amounts to patients undergoing surgeries or amputations”

“Could you give us a little background on how this analgesic was brought to life?” Sunny asked. 

You nodded. “The Crescents actually accidentally discovered the main component of this analgesic, the opioid drug, during the war. It is called… silver light. As the public is aware, Park Seonghwa of the Crescent Company served as a medic for a short while during the early years of the Battle of the Eight Hills. One of the soldiers in his group discovered the drug by accident, placed among the last medical reserves. There was only a small batch and it was labelled opium, so the drug was used to numb the pain for the soldiers who were in extreme pain due to amputations or organ damage. 

“Park Seonghwa noticed that the drug worked far better than the rest of the opiate analgesics in the medical supplies. After confronting his superior, he discovered that silver light was actually not meant to be used as an analgesic at all.”

“Did it have some other beneficial properties then?” Sunny inquired.

“Not at all,” you smiled wryly. “Silver light was discovered by accident. It was never meant to be used by the patients.”

“Then why was it in the medical supplies?”

“We don’t know that,” you said. “All we know is that the soldier who discovered the drug was mysteriously shot to death. Park Seonghwa almost shared the same fate, but because of his military connections, he was transferred to the frontlines as a sniper– a death sentence, if you must. The only reason I’m here tonight is because Park Seonghwa was clever enough to keep a small batch for himself to investigate. With Kim Hongjoong, the boss of The Crescent Company, he traced the drug and found that silver light was something of a pleasure drug for the higher-ups, the elites of Eden.”

Sunny let that statement hang in the air for a few calculative moments before saying, “You’re implying that a beneficial analgesic was being reserved by the upper class of Eden.”

“I’m claiming that this is the case,” you corrected. “Silver light is a sort of currency among the elites, so you can imagine the damage our analgesic will create when launched to the market, accessible to the common man. We’ve faced a lot of obstacles and attempts to stop us, and it’s been a long journey, but it’s time that we let the world know that we care.”

You turned towards the camera, glancing at Wooyoung and San who stood next to it, sharing a subtle nod.

“No longer will The Crescent Company bow to the elites of Eden. We are citizens of Eden, just like everyone else. We are humans, above all. We care, and we hope this medicine launch is an example of our sincerity towards our people. We have suffered enough to make this project come to light, to make the best analgesic for our people so they do not have to go through the pain that we did. We are open to partnerships and we are hoping that by the end of next year, the year 1971, Sylunox will be available in every hospital to be administered by the doctors to the patients who are in pain.”

“That is quite a fierce statement,” Sunny said with a smile. “We will refrain from mentioning any names, but could you shed light on the extent of censoring that’s been done to keep you from announcing this analgesic publicly?”

“Rival companies, of course, which is understandable,” you offered. “A few other business companies. This project was top-secret until recently so it’s not that we had to watch our backs for unexpected moves. We were aware of who wished to stop us, and we were… attacked from the front, if I may.”

“Rival companies… that is interesting,” Sunny looked towards the camera. The first rival company that would come to the viewers’ minds would be Park Pharmaceuticals. 

Park Pharmaceuticals, owned by Park Byung Eun, the presidential secretary to the current president of Eden.

“Were there any politically motivated moves made against your project?” Sunny asked.

“Aren’t all moves politically motivated?” You countered. Mr. Ju had instructed to keep as ambiguous as you could about the president’s involvement, so it was a fine line that you had to walk between hinting the involvement and downright exposing them. 

“You’re not wrong,” Sunny chuckled lightheartedly. “The upper class of Eden mostly comprises politicians and business figures, and the two go hand in hand. I suppose it must have been quite a challenge to make your announcement tonight. We will wrap up our show now, and wish you the best of luck with your future endeavours. 

“This was Miss Luna of The Crescent Company, head of the pharmaceutical business in partnership with MX Pharmaceuticals. The Evening Show With Sunny wishes a good night to their viewers.”

You waited until the cameras turned off and a ‘cut’ boomed through the room before reclining back to the seat in relief for a moment. You could distantly hear Sunny compliment you on doing a good job but all you could focus on was your heartbeat thumping between your ears and your limbs going limp as the adrenaline wore off. You heard familiar chuckles of your partners as they neared, and an assuring smack to your shoulder woke you right up.

“That hurt,” you pouted at the assailant. Wooyoung just grinned cheekily.

“I did not know that you had a bossy charm to you, Miss ‘no longer will we bow to the elites of Eden’.”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, straightening and gathering your belongings. “Your Captain clearly rubbed off on me.”

“You did amazing,” San assured with a pat on your back when you got up. “Let’s go home.”

It didn’t take too long for the news to blow up after that broadcast. Every newspaper company and every channel was talking about The Crescent Company and their daring claims about the upper class of Eden. Naturally, the public started to question the politicians and the assemblymen running for the 1971 elections. 

That meant that President Lee was under scrutiny as well. The people, especially the supporters of his political party that was essentially birthed from President Han’s party, were starting to worry if their beloved president had beguiled them all with an innocent facade, which wouldn’t be a first. Eden was known to have a history of questionable leaders. Some people went as far as to question the President’s motives behind creation of the hospital in Eden that was supposedly to honour his wife– was it just a front to hide his wrongdoings?

Secretary Park was dragged into the mud as well. The public claimed that if he was the owner of the leading pharmaceutical company of Eden, there was little chance that he was unaware of the existence of silver light. Many pointed their fingers at him openly and you were sure his business was suffering a great deal.

Assemblyman General Wi and Assemblyman Kim were no exceptions, though Assemblyman Wi was at the shorter end of the stick considering his ties with the military and his questionable political career. Assemblyman Kim didn’t receive much backlash since his supporters were a far smaller number than the other two and he had a good reputation. 

Assemblyman Kim was sent a message by you through the Sirens– now was the time to make his move and rise in rankings. For once, the Assemblyman didn’t disappoint and went on to conduct campaigns and addresses, promising the people to provide them with the best healthcare services and demanding that the guilty parties come forth and step down from their positions. 

Assemblyman Kim wasn’t the only person who took advantage of the situation, though. Inspector Gong, despite his qualms about reinvestigating President Han’s case, finally took the recent happenings as a sign that President Lee was distracted enough for him to call you and request a meeting with Secretary Oh Jungse, who was still in hiding after being exposed as a funder of the Crescents’ weapons channel. 

The Crescents were rejecting any follow-up interviews or meetings regarding the whole matter. It just made everyone more anxious. Security was upped and arrangements were made to welcome anyone who wished to collaborate with the Crescents, whether as a partner or an investor.

Madame Tiffany had requested minimal contact, especially because your broadcast had established that she had decided to partner with the Crescents after all. Hongjoong was keeping tabs on President Lee and countering every move that was made to mark Tiffany as an international criminal, though the President was distracted and didn’t do much. He needed to come clean about his position regarding silver light, and you were sure he was busy with damage control instead. Silver light’s status as a currency for illegal dealings amongst the upper class of Eden– and other nations involved– was probably being questioned.

The wheels were set in motion. You were waiting for the enemy to make their move. However, they were too quiet, and too much quiet was never good. There was something sinister about the way that they settled in resignation, not following up on the Crescents’ claims in any sense whatsoever. The hush before the storm, whispered the winds. 

It was why when your official shareholder status was celebrated in a gathering at the bar with an abundance of drinks and food, you consciously tried your best to enjoy that moment. You were aware that everyone was on edge and you were not alone in feeling troubled by the things that had been happening. The boys were trying to find happiness and comfort in moments like these, and you were not going to dampen the mood by letting your worries get the best of you.

You were allowed to celebrate, to steal these little moments and live, laugh and love, Seonghwa had said prior to the gathering. He smiled at you when he noticed you staring holes into your drink and squeezed your hand to get your attention.

“You okay, love?”

“I’m good,” you assured him. “It’s lovely to be here.”

“Right? It’s been a while,” the oldest of the Crescents looked proudly at the rest. Everyone was talking to everyone, their chatter and laughter overlapping. Someone’s cheek was kissed, someone earned a smack to their head. Things could almost pass as normal, so you pushed your worries away and leaned against Seonghwa, sharing a drink.

“Sorry to spoil the mood,” Seonghwa began, “But before I forget, General Wi has decided to play a double agent. He’ll cooperate with us as best as he can, though he won’t be able to do much.”

“That’s not spoiling the mood at all,” you looked at him, sharing a laugh. “It’s good to hear that we have people on our side now.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d smoothen the creases on your forehead,” Seonghwa commented and you smacked his arm, making him groan out loud. 

That caught Wooyoung’s attention though. He smacked Seonghwa’s other arm and then leaned forwards, grinning at you. “Is the old man bothering you?”

“No,” you almost doubled over with laughter. “Kind of.”

“Hey!” Seonghwa pulled away, betrayed as Wooyoung struck again. Seonghwa pressed his palm against the back of Wooyoung’s neck, muttering threats into his ears that had him surrendering right away. You watched the encounter with amusement.

“Is the old man bothering you?” You asked Wooyoung. Before he could say yes, Seonghwa started to lament about the betrayal, the light banter continuing even after Wooyoung left, even when you joined Seonghwa for the remainder of the night.

Yet another trip to Edenary was made with Jongho accompanying you this time. General Wi seemed to have some information to share and he wanted it to be in person. Hongjoong suspected that the Assemblyman was going to try and make his own deal with the Crescents and secure protection from whatever threats the President had over his head. 

You learned in the meeting with the Assemblyman that the President had not only threatened to ruin his career but had his soldiers stationed around his family’s house. Assemblyman Wi had a wife and a young daughter who resided in Sector 2, unaware that they were being watched. It was an invasion of his privacy and though it wasn’t an unusual move, it still riled up the Assemblyman to no end. 

“If he made verbal threats and forced my compliance, I would have stayed loyal to him,” Assemblyman Wi admitted. “I can’t stomach the fact that my wife and daughter are being watched all 24 hours of the day.”

“We can send our people to watch the soldiers that watch your family,” Jongho assured. “They will protect your family.”

“It’s too risky,” Assemblyman Wi looked conflicted.

“I’ve been watched most of my life too,” you revealed and the man shifted uncomfortably. “I know what it feels like to have your privacy invaded like that. Your family should stay ignorant about this matter, but they should be guarded nonetheless. How about having a guard reside with them instead? President Lee wouldn’t know their identity, they could pass as your cousin or acquaintance.”

Assemblyman Wi contemplated that for a few moments. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

“A woman can be arranged too, for your peace of mind,” you looked towards Winter and she nodded. “She makes good company and an even better guard. Your wife and daughter would get along well with her.”

“Thank you,” he smiled earnestly after a deep breath, finally willing to share whatever information he had so far. 

The Assemblyman had made a visit to the Presidential Office a couple of times and he, ever the sharp-eyed general, noticed a few odd things about his office. There was always his wife’s photo in a frame present on the desk during his broadcast addresses. The frame was always obvious in the shots, just a glimpse of his wife to the public, enough to make their hearts full.

According to the Assemblyman, the frame was carelessly tossed inside the drawer of his desk. He wouldn’t have minded that it has been years since the passing of President Han, but what ticked him off was how he tried to hide the frame when he opened his drawer. Was it because he was ashamed, perhaps having moved on but still pretending to be deep in grief? 

“I talked to my wife about this, you see,” Assemblyman Wi was sporting a lazy smile on his face as he traced the outline of his wine glass. “I asked her opinion on why he could have done that. It’s normal for men to move on after some time– even women do, though they tend to grieve more deeply. If moving on becomes shameful, it means there is something going on, right?”

You scrunched your face in confusion. Jongho hummed in thought. “Maybe he has found someone.”

“Why would he need to hide his wife’s photo? It’s not like I don’t know who she is,” the man grunted. “Besides, men tend to boast about having found someone, unless they can’t– but that’s not what this is about. I saw the way his hand shook when he struggled to hide it. So what did I do?”

“You went back,” you started to smile. “To take a good look at the frame.”

“And guess what I found?”

“Nothing?” You shrugged. “Did he cross out her face or something? I mean… we all know that he may or may not be involved in her passing.”

“Something better,” the Assemblyman grinned in the manner of a man who knew too much. “Another photo behind his wife’s. A photo of a baby, except… the baby looks older than the presumed time of death.”

“Holy smokes,” Jongho said and you both exchanged looks. “What age was the baby supposed to be? We are talking about his own baby with President Han, right?”

“Has to be that one, unless he has another from someone else, which would be as much of a surprise. I’m not sure, actually. The baby that we all know about was supposed to be a few months old when she passed away. A beautiful little girl, she was, I had the pleasure of seeing that little angel once in the hospital. The birth was tough on the mother and the child so they were both at the hospital for quite a while and eventually, the baby lost the battle.”

“Ah, yes,” you distantly recalled hearing about the reason the President wished to build a hospital– to honour his wife and late daughter. “So the baby passed a couple of months after her birth, right?”

“But the baby girl in the photo… had to be a year old, or more. Looked too much like the baby I remember.” The Assemblyman shivered involuntarily and Jongho folded his arms, thinking. 

“I’m suspecting a baby from another woman. If it’s his baby, she might resemble the dead baby a lot. I mean… all babies look the same to me, I can’t lie.”

“That’s because you’re not a father,” Assemblyman Wi shook his head, disappointed with Jongho’s statement who simply muttered something about how he wasn’t entirely wrong. You had to agree with him. “Alright, yeah, they do look similar. It’s probably his child from another woman, but why hide it like this? He’s earned enough supporters to win the elections again even if people learn about his new family. They will only support him.”

“Yeah, it’s odd that he has to hide it. Maybe his woman has a controversial background or history,” Jongho suggested.

“And that is exactly what I’ll be looking into,” Assemblyman Wi concluded. “I might need your help on that. If you’re digging into the President, send some of your hounds sniffing this way.”

Another child. Was he leading a whole new life? You wondered for the rest of the night. 

Did President Lee, the monster of a man, really have a weakness after all?

You were planning to leave the next day and were in the middle of packing your scattered luggage when a knock sounded and you opened the door to a stricken Jaehyun.

“You need to come with me.”

Your gut twisted with anxiety at the ashen face of the man and you nodded, following him to the living room, the sound from the television becoming coherent and you instantly knew that something was very, very wrong given that it was the President’s own voice addressing the public in a surprise broadcast.

“The first phase of our military operation has been a success. Through our intelligence, we have identified a number of spies– traitors to our nation who have been selling information to other nations. It is a shameful act, and will be regarded as such–”

“What is going on?” You asked out loud, meeting eyes with Winter who was as surprised as you for once, fidgeting with her fingers anxiously while seated on the sofa in front of the television.

“We don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m waiting to receive a message or orders, but this is unexpected.”

“President Lee might be acting on his own now,” Jaehyun said, folding his arms. “Especially considering how Eden Hall and even his own team is divided.”

Thanks to the Crescents, he didn’t need to add.

“We have contacted the military and as per our mutual understanding, there will be a public execution of these traitors at the Edenary Square at the 17th hour. The area will be heavily guarded but anyone of age who wishes to witness this historical moment is welcomed–”

“Luna!” Ten’s footsteps seemed to be as loud as his voice as he rushed up the stairs calling your name. “You have a message– you need to do something.”

There was more being said about how the public execution was going to be a display of warning to the traitors of this nation, to set an example and honour the methods of the Edenary Royals who were the founders of this nation, but the ringing in your ear was overpowering the President’s voice, and it felt like you could not make the words that left Ten’s mouth– was he speaking right now? 

Winter gently shook you by the arm, bringing you back to your senses. Your mouth felt too dry to speak but you swallowed with some struggle, gathering your bearings. You could hear the distant bell of the phone and you shut your eyes, grounding yourself.

It will be okay. 

It will be okay.

It was not okay. You had just about a measly three hours to stop the public execution of 15 innocent lives. 

The message you had received was from Ji Chang Wook, the head of the Sirens. His men were among the ones captured and taken for execution on grounds of treason– what treason? The only traitor to this nation was the President himself and his gang, and they were pulling this stunt as a political distraction to shift the people’s attention away from silver light, and more importantly–

Away from Strictland. There was a rumour that the first troop was going to be dispatched to Strictland in the next 24 hours. There would be no news coverage of the event, not a whisper to the public. 

Everything was going to hell.

You only allowed yourself another moment of weakness before straightening your shoulders, Hongjoong’s voice in your head grounding you. We are the Leaders. You made a few phone calls to the Sector 1 office while you waited for Jongho to come back from his meeting. The Crescents were uneasy but they shared affirmations and reminded you that you were not alone. You were all in this together– not just the Crescents, but the Sirens were with you. Your other allies were with you.

You were not alone, yet you felt like a lone soldier marching to the battlefield on your own. Could you even win this battle, this war? 

When Jongho arrived, he was accompanied by Assemblyman General Wi and you narrowed your eyes at the military man in suspicion. When he raised his hands in surrender, you realised that he looked as worried as the rest of you.

“I had no idea,” he admitted, slumping down on the sofa. “It seems like the President doesn’t trust me that much after all, despite our ‘partnership’.”

“He is wise not to, considering you’re here,” Winter commented, ever the objective person. When the Assemblyman shot her a glare, she only shrugged. 

“You understand that we have to stop this execution. These are innocent people that the President is going to prosecute in the name of a distraction. Do you understand the gravity of the situation, Assemblyman?”

“As much as you, if not more,” he responded, fully alert and looking willing to do anything. 

“President Kwon of Halaland seems to have gotten a whiff of the soldiers making their way to Strictland," Jongho explained. “Even though Major Sung is trying to keep things under wraps, the President is not a fool. He’ll probably request a meeting soon or retaliate.”

“We’re hoping for a meeting first,” Assemblyman Wi added. “The military… they’re divided now. Our Chief is clearly with President Lee and he won’t share what’s happening with anyone else. Top secret, he says.”

“If he learns that you’re here, you could get in trouble,” Jaehyun reminded the Assemblyman who shrugged knowingly.

“We have more pressing matters on hand,” he looked towards you. “Why does the head of the Sirens think you can put a stop to this execution? And why choose the Sirens as sacrificial lambs?”

A wave of cold washed over you as you were once again reminded of the message Mr. Ji sent. “I don’t know,” you admitted, looking helplessly towards Ten and Winter. “I just received a message without any context. If they think I can contact Secretary Park and convince him somehow, I’ll do that–”

“He’ll ask you to return to him,” Jongho shook his head. “You can’t do that.”

“But Jongho,” you called weakly. “We need to do something.”

“I have orders too,” Jongho retaliated. “From the Captain. Under no circumstances are you to offer yourself to save someone else. Even if it is us.”

Of course Hongjoong anticipated you would do exactly that. 

“This is bigger than us,” you reasoned, clenching and unclenching your fists. “I need to do whatever I can. Mr. Ji is counting on us to stop the execution. The least we can do is try, Jongho. The Sirens were helping us, and it looks like President Lee is offended by that.”

Jongho looked distraught– he probably agreed with you, as did the rest, but everyone in the room was aware that Secretary Park wanted you to cut ties with the Crescents and join him. You were the sacrificial lamb now. The captured Sirens were just the bait.

You had an invisible noose around your neck. One wrong move and you would be executed with the rest. 

“It’s not just because the Sirens were helping the Crescents,” Winter revealed, palpable hesitation lacing her voice. “Yes, the Sirens were initially banded to help President Han with her private investigation regarding her family, but she was also investigating the Strictland matter. Most of the members of Sirens are deserters from Strictland.”

“Deserters?” Assemblyman Wi repeated. 

“A lot of people working in the Strictland nuclear base aren’t there by their own free will,” Winter said. “They are forced to sign confidentiality forms and they are threatened repeatedly. Those brave enough to run away find the Sirens, or other similar groups.”

“And why has none of them reported this to the higher-ups?” You inquired.

“Why do you think?” Winter scoffed. “The same reason President Lee will get away with the executions today. Justice is a far-fetched idea.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling lightheaded. Those people… they must have risked everything to find the Sirens if what Winter said was right. 

“Let’s find loopholes,” Ten suggested, attempting to lighten the mood. “Is there anything we can use to stop Secretary Park, at least? Some dirt over the President? On him?”

“It wouldn’t work anymore,” Jaehyun said, shaking his head. “If President Kwon himself is aware of whatever President Lee is trying to pull, we have nothing left. We can’t make the Strictland Operation public– that would prompt Halaland to make a move against us to show their people that they are stable, unafraid and protective of their nation.”

“I’ll contact my people,” Winter said, grabbing her belongings to leave immediately. “Give me an hour. Ten, please make sure Luna doesn’t leave this building before I come back. However long it may take.”

“Winter–”

“That’s an order,” Winter was serious and you gave in. You could give her an hour, alright. 

No more.

Assemblyman Wi looked confused but no one was going to tell him that she was one of the RV spies. Once Winter left, an air of tension settled in the room. You told Jongho that you would be in the office room and left the men to make plans among themselves.

You rang the Sector 1 office, hoping Hongjoong would not pick the receiver.

Your knees almost buckled with relief when someone else answered. 

“Yunho,” you called and you heard him suck in his breath.

“Luna,” he almost whispered. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not. Do you understand what needs to be done?”

Silence. 

“Hongjoong is going crazy over here, Luna,” Yunho said in a sombre tone. “He is sure there’s another motive to the President’s move, and it’s not a political one. It’s something personal.”

The President has his eyes on you.

“He won’t tell me why,” you stated almost mechanically. “Am I the bait to destroy the Crescents or am I the target itself?”

You heard Yunho shift through the receiver. He was probably deep in thought, trying to come up with a calculative response. The consigliere to Hongjoong. 

“I’m allowing everyone an hour, Yunho,” you said assertively. “After the time is up, I’ll make my own decisions. Tell your Captain that.”

“Luna–”

“Tell me, Yunho,” you interrupted. “You’ve been in a similar position as me. You’ve had to make decisions for the greater good. Did you sacrifice your people or did you sacrifice yourself?”

Yunho was silent for a few moments before he answered, with immense effort. “I sacrificed myself.”

“Then you are aware of what I must do,” you smiled in defeat. “If Secretary Park is willing to stop this execution on the terms that I join him, or whatever the cost he may demand, I must pay it. It is only right that I do.”

“But you are not responsible for these lives,” Yunho reminded you.

“I know,” you agreed. “But if I don’t even try, I will be held responsible.”

“I won’t tell Hongjoong what you’re about to do, but Luna… remember to keep a level head. You said your father taught you not to play the game, but to win. Don’t play the game– just try to win.”

“Thank you, Yunho,” you said, finally sighing in relief. 

“I love you,” he said and you smiled. Something started to weigh over your heart, crushing it slowly but surely.

“I love you,” he repeated. “Try to win. You can do this. But don’t be too hard on yourself. In case this doesn’t work out, don’t take it out on yourself, you hear me?”

“I do,” you told him, your eyes beginning to sting now.

“I love you,” he repeated like a mantra. “I wish I was there with you right now, Luna, I–”

“It’s okay, I know,” you assured him. “I have Jongho. I’m okay, Yunho, love, I’m okay,” you almost cried. “I love you too, Yunho. I’ll be back soon. Please… please make sure Hongjoong is okay. Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” he sounded weary. “I’m hanging up– he’s here.”

He didn’t give you time to respond before the static of the phone replaced his voice. You wiped your eyes, your heart yearning for the men waiting for you back home. 

When Jongho entered a few moments after, he put two and two together. “Who did you talk to?”

“Yunho,” you told him. “Hongjoong… is going to lose it when he learns what I plan to do,” you shook your head.

“Oh, dear,” Jongho closed the distance between the two of you and all but crushed you in a hug. You eased into his protective embrace and let him hold you until your heartbeat was somewhat steady. 

“You’ve made up your mind,” he pulled back, searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation and finding none. “What are you going to do?”

“If there’s nothing else that can be done, I’m going to the Park Mansion,” you said, still in his arms. His embrace was the most protective, as if it could shield you from the world. “I’m going to hear him out. He will probably ask me to join him. I’ll have no choice.”

“You can’t do that,” Jongho shook his head. “Not after everything we’ve been through.”

“But that is the only thing I can do,” you smiled sadly. “Imagine if that stops the President from killing innocent people. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Why does it have to be you?” He asked. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either,” you sighed deeply, resting your forehead against his chest and feeling his steady heartbeat sync with the blood pumping in your head. “Hongjoong knows something, and he won’t tell me. He says he’ll tell me once he’s sure, but when is that? When I go back to my father?”

“He has his reasons,” Jongho said almost mechanically but then scoffed at his own statement. “I’m sure he has. Do you think you can stop this if you go to the Park Mansion?”

“That’s got to be it, right?” You looked up at the man– he was younger than you by a few months but looked as if he had lived more lives than you. You probably looked the same to him right now– spent and lost. “I don’t know what they want from me. I’m so tired of this– if Hongjoong or Winter don’t give me answers tonight, I’m going to be so, so mad, Jongho.”

“I understand,” Jongho squeezed your shoulders. “Just don’t forget that they’re trying to protect you in their own ways.”

You shot him a look– he had a point. Your eyes darted towards the clock but Jongho gently turned your face back towards him with the pad of his thumb.

“It’s going to be okay,” he assured. “I’m going to get you a drink. You look like you need it.”

“Geez, thanks,” you chuckled. “Twenty minutes, Jongho.”

“Whatever,” he said and moved towards the table to pour you both drinks. You appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood but no amount of drinks was going to help you. 

~

Winter did not come back after the hour mark. It was twenty minutes above the hour mark when you finally broke the thick silence in the room and requested Ten to drive you to Park Mansion. The boys bought them another twenty minutes, debating whether Winter was stalling or was actually on to something. You all hoped that the latter was the case– she wasn’t the type to stall for no reason. If she wanted you under house arrest, she would guard the doors herself.

You allowed everyone ten more minutes before the stress started to eat at you, the sensation feeling like a physical gnaw. You were now worried about Winter too– just where was she? What was holding her back? 

You could not afford to stall any further, whatever the case was. Deciding that you had to take the matter into your own hands, you rushed towards the phone and dialled Park Mansion, the residence number still on your fingertips even though you barely ever called. Your call was answered at the third attempt by none other than Sunghoon. You were feeling extremely queasy by then.

“I knew you would call,” he scoffed, but you almost thought his voice lacked the usual tinge of mockery.

“Where’s father?” 

“Not home. Probably at Eden Square, making sure everything goes smoothly at his first public crime scene. He wouldn’t miss the processions to this historical moment, would he now?”

“Is there any way I can request a meeting with him?” You asked, your gut twisting with worry.

“Hardly,” Sunghoon replied. “Father anticipated this call. He asked me to forward the invitation. He will see you at Eden Square– you, and no one else. Not even your little guard.”

You cursed under your breath but Sunghoon was still on call. He did not hang up.

“What’s your plan, y/n?”

“I don’t have one,” you admitted. “I’m just… hoping that he stops this madness. Whatever the price, I’m willing to pay.”

“I can’t tell if this is brave of you or entirely stupid,” Sunghoon sighed audibly. “If you think he’ll stop this execution because you agree to his terms, you’re wrong, dear sister. Do you realise what you’re getting yourself into?”

“What do you care?” You countered, but you had an unsettling feeling that he was right.

“I don’t,” he confirmed. “I’m just reminding you.”

“Do you think Secretary Park… do you think father is bound to comply with President Lee? Or are they two peas in a pod?”

“What does it matter?” Sunghoon asked. “Even if he is forced to comply, it doesn’t change anything.”

He wasn’t wrong, but the truth still sounded bitter to you. 

“I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you soon,” Sunghoon tsk-ed. “Say your goodbyes, sissy. Father plans to keep you close for a long, long time.”

“Do you know why?”

“I wish I did,” he admitted. “It doesn’t make sense. Why does he want you to come back after all this time? You have to admit it, I’m not that bad of a businessman. I can take over his business just fine.”

He wasn’t wrong. Secretary Park wanting you to come back to take over the business because he thought Sunghoon wasn’t reliable was just an excuse to conceal another motive. Did he think pulling you out from the Crescents would weaken them? That wasn’t the case– the Crescents were strong before you, and would continue to remain a formidable force in case you dipped out. 

“There’s another reason and it’s staring right at our faces,” Sunghoon almost whispered. “I have a hunch, but it’s too mad, it doesn’t make sense. The dots are there, you just need to connect them.”

With that, Sunghoon hung up and you stared holes into the receiver. You did not have time to connect any dots right now– what you needed to do was get to Eden Square.

The familiar knock on your door had you sighing in relief when you spotted Winter. However, she looked grim. You joined her outside where Jongho was waiting. Ten and Jaehyun had left.

“The RV spies did not know anything prior to the President’s broadcast,” Winter confirmed and Jongho whistled.

“That’s got to be a first,” he said.

“We’re not all-knowing,” Winter responded but Jongho wasn’t buying it. As far as he knew, there was no wider spy network than the RV spies. The President must have found a way to make this happen without attracting their attention. 

“I have orders to keep you from going to Eden Square,” Winter continued and you folded your arms in disappointment. “Whatever you have to do, you do from here. I’ll be your messenger.”

“You must know then, that Secretary Park wants me at Eden Square alone,” you said and Winter nodded. “I can stop this if I go. You need to let me go.”

Winter shook her head and you were about to burst when Jongho got up, diving between you two.

“Hold up, hold up,” he made sure to calm you as best as he could before turning to Winter. “Orders from who?”

“My boss, and…  your boss,” Winter revealed and you scoffed loudly, looking at Jongho pointedly.

“Kim Hongjoong,” you shook your head. “He can’t put me under house arrest. I– he knows that I can stop this. We need to stop this, Winter. We’ll lose far more than those innocent lives if we let it happen without even trying. The Sirens– they trusted us, they trusted me to help them. I can’t let them down like this.”

Winter wiped her palms on her pants, looking as conflicted as Jongho. The two silently communicated with each other while you started to pace across the room, thumb wedged between your teeth as you tried to make sense of things. 

You breathed in and out in calculated paces. Now was not the time to let your emotions get the better of you. 

“Even if I don’t go now,” you started in a low, calm voice. “Secretary Park will pull another stunt. He wants me back, and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants, even if it means that I have to crawl back to him. You know that, Winter.”

“There is a chance that he will not stop the execution even if you go,” Jongho reminded you. “It’s President Lee who’s in charge. Secretary Park is just his lackey. It’s also the President who must want you back, whatever the reasons may be.”

“Why me?” You asked and Jongho’s heart ached at your distraught tone. “What did I do?”

“You’ve done nothing,” Winter approached you before Jongho could and took your hand, so uncharacteristic of the spy trained to stick to orders and not indulge in feelings. “It’s not your fault in any sense.”

“If I don’t go, it will weigh over my conscience and crush me,” you said, searching Winter’s eyes for any signs of agreement. You found nothing. 

“If you go, it’s going to break you. Your life is going to change the moment you shake hands with Secretary Park. It won’t be like before when you pretended to be his niece. This time, he’s going to use you to get what he wants, and he’s a greedy man who wants too much. And… you’ll have to deal with President Lee. He is the root of all this evil.”

You looked towards Jongho, your hand still in Winter’s. “You understand why I have to go, don’t you?”

Jongho nodded. “Hongjoong’s going to kill me if I let you go.”

“He won’t,” you smiled briefly. “I’ll be back. I… I have a plan. I need you both to accompany me to Eden Square, we’ll talk in the car. There’s no time to spare.”

~

You were nineteen when you first witnessed the difference between life and death. 

You imagined it would be slow, the life leaving a man’s body. You thought that you would be able to see the light in their eyes dim and be able to hear what they had to say for their last words on this earth. You imagined it to be like the poems you read that vividly described the one moment that separated life and death, as if it was longer than a measly second.

The first death you witnessed was a gunshot to the head. One moment the soldier was complaining about the food rations, and the next, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he slumped down near you. The difference between life and death was merely a drop of the pin, a shift in the air, you concluded. Subtle but irreversible.

However, you were about to learn that sudden, quick death was a gift, and the poets were not wrong. Death began the moment you realised it. 

“You have to stop this madness,” you pleaded, your voice awfully small for someone who was so confident to come here. “What more do you want from me?”

The Eden Dome seemed to be weeping in your stead, its washed-out cerulean dome still damp from the rain last night. In front of the domed-building in the middle of Eden Square was the old fountain that was soon going to be covered in blood. The 15 victims wore masks that covered their eyes, but you did not need to look at their faces to understand that their death had begun. Even if they lived tonight, a part of them would be dying here. 

Their limbs trembled as the guards rounded them around the fountain. They tried to huddle close for some semblance of comfort but they were divided with too much space in between. In their grey prison uniform, they could easily pass for criminals. The public who were filling in to witness this moment sure thought so, unaware that all 15 of them were wrongly accused of treason. 

You were not sure if their mouths were taped, but you supposed they had nothing to say now anyway. Not a sound came from them. They seemed to be settling in resignation of their inevitable fate in their last moments.

“I don’t want anything from you,” Secretary Park shook his head, going closer to the railing of the roof. You were at the building in front of the Eden Dome and your view from here was damning. “You will come back to me because at the next procession, someone you personally know could be standing right there.”

“I will come back to you,” you promised.

The last rays of sun for the evening shone upon the victims in an almost ironic manner. The sun wasn’t warm enough to make its presence known to the blinded souls. It felt like a futile attempt to offer them some comfort. 

“I will come back to you,” you joined Secretary Park at the edge of the roof. You watched him while he peered down at the scene unfolding in the square with a stoic face, watching the guards bark orders. “But you need to stop this first.”

Secretary Park gave you a look, beckoning you to come closer. From where you stood at the roof of one of the many buildings around Eden Square, your view was almost damning. 

“You’re in no position to be making demands,” Secretary Park said. “It’s out of my hands, child.”

“Then why did you call me here?” 

Secretary Park motioned towards the Eden Dome. At first, you didn’t get what point he was trying to make, but cold realisation washed over you. 

“He’s watching from there, Lee Jinwook,” Secretary Park cocked his head almost in frustration. You observed him carefully– there was obvious resentment on his face, and for once he didn’t mask his disgust. “I called you here so that the President can see that you stand with me. That ring I gave you is your protection. You’re wearing it, right?”

You outstretched your left hand, the pearl sitting on your index finger. 

“That ring is your protection, and you are mine,” Secretary Park said and you narrowed your eyes. “I need you close to me so that I can protect us both. So I can protect my family.”

“I was told that I’m protected either way, but… what do you mean that I am your protection?”

Secretary Park only smiled in response, in a manner that indicated that he had already given you too much. You followed his gaze towards the Eden Dome where you could see the faint figure of the President along with his guards, watching over the scene with binoculars in his hand–

Watching you. 

The President signalled the soldiers down in the square and 15 of them started to take position in front of the 15 victims. A guard stood beside each, waiting for the signal so they could take their masks off. 

“You’ve got to stop this, please,” you tried again. “What does President Lee want from us? From me?”

“I don’t know yet,” Secretary Park clenched his jaw. “I can’t stop this. I’m sorry, y/n. I wish I could but my hands are tied. If I stop this… we’ll lose the war.”

The guards saluted in eerie synchronisation and took off the masks of the 15. You looked at each and every one of them, memorising their faces. A man, middle-aged with a scar on his face. A young woman with eyes full of resentment. A boy who had to be no older than 19. Another man whose cheeks were hollowed and hair ashen. Another woman who looked lost–

It was the first time that your father ever apologised to you and you really looked at him. His eyes no longer had the mischievous twinkle. Instead, there were hollows under his eyes and his mouth drooped downwards. He looked as weary as you felt.

Even in this open space with the wind blowing your hair back, it was hard to breathe. Your lungs felt constricted and the lump in your throat threatened to take your voice with it forever. You clenched your hands into fists to manage the shaking but it didn’t work, so you wrapped your arms around yourself. 

“I won’t forgive you for this,” you shut your eyes. Your statement did not sound as assertive as you meant it to be, but you could barely form the words anymore. Your mouth was running dry with each step the soldiers took towards the victims. 

“You don’t have to,” he only shrugged. “One day, you will understand why everything had to be this way. “

“I hate you. We’re letting innocent people die,” you let out a dry sob. There were no tears left to cry. The victims did not deserve your tears. You could not save them. You had damned them.

“Close your eyes, y/n.”

You didn’t. You watched the soldiers point their guns simultaneously at the victims. 

The victims closed their eyes for you.

It was one loud bang that encompassed the 15 bullets that simultaneously took 15 lives. The sound made you physically recoil as if it was you who had been shot, if the ache in your heart was any indication of that. You took one look at the crime scene– blood all over the old white fountain– before you stepped back and heaved, retching and choking on air. 

Secretary Park watched you but did not offer any comfort. He simply stood examining the scene in front of him.

“Look at the mess we’ve made, y/n.”

You didn’t. You were on the ground, staring at your hands. 

It was then that he bent down on one knee, meeting your eyes. Something like pity flashed over his face for just a moment. He clasped your hands with his and gently pressed them down until they were in your lap.

“The blood is not on your hands. It’s on my hands.” 

You looked at him. There was still a gaping hollow in your heart, threatening to swallow you whole. Winter was right– something did break inside you, perhaps forever. Something probably died too, a slow death like none other.

Secretary Park looked behind you before turning his attention back to you. “It’s over. Come back home soon.”

With that, he got up and sauntered away as if it was the most natural thing to do. You remained on your knees, offering prayers for the dead. You did not apologise. You did not deserve their forgiveness.

“The blood is not on your hands, Luna.” 

It was Jongho who said that, sinking down in front of you. “You could have stopped this, and you tried your best. You are not responsible for what happened after. Even the spies and some other people tried to stop this, but… it still happened.”

You knew that. You nodded, but that didn’t help the growing void in your soul. 

“Look at me, Luna,” Jongho insisted and you did with immense effort. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” you told him. “Doesn’t help me feel any better.”

Jongho nodded in understanding, squeezing your hands. “Hongjoong was trying to find a loophole. It didn’t work. Mr. Ji tried his best too, but… they won.”

You looked towards the Eden Dome. The President was no longer there, but you could feel his silhouette still.

“I’m going to go back to Park Mansion soon,” you said, a bitter taste forming in your tongue. “I’m going to get the President good, and I’ll do it alone. I’ll make sure to ruin him. He has not won this war yet.”

Winter stood near you with her hands clasped on the front, trying her best to mask her dismay at the turn of the events. If the circumstances were different, Winter would have appreciated the way you spat those words with promise and revenge. However, this time it was just evident of the fact that the guard was right–

Something did break inside you.

“You’re not alone,” Jongho urged you to look at him. “We’re with you. We’ll do this together.”

You nodded and he helped you get up but your knees gave in and you stifled another wave of sadness that threatened to take you down with it. Jongho supported you, making sure you were okay to walk before accompanying you downstairs, your guard right behind.

Once in the comfort of the apartment, he took you to your room and made you get in your bed under the covers. You assured him that you were alright but he knew better. 

The horrors of the war had kept him awake at nights. He had the boys comfort him and stay with him at his lowest.

He would do the same for you now. 

So after making sure that you were fed and ready for bed, he asked if he could stay with you for the night. The sincerity in his voice almost made you smile. You pulled the covers for him so he could get in bed with you. 

He held you in his arms. You didn’t question his reasons. You were well aware that it was going to be a long, long night. 

When you woke up in the middle of the night with a scream lodged in your throat, he held you closer. He told you stories about the boys and how they comforted him during the war. They would stay up all night for him, barely getting any sleep just so they could watch over their youngest. At the slightest twitch, they would be fretting about how to make sure that he did not wake up, and how to turn his nightmares into dreams.

You did cry then, just a little. You told him that you were incredibly tired. He kissed the top of your head and assured you that it was okay to feel that way, but he believed in you. He believed that you would get back right up and that you would be fine. He also told you that it was okay to not be fine. You had him, the boys, Winter. They all cared for you.

“I’m going to be all alone in that house,” you said in the middle of the night, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat while he absently caressed the skin on your arm. “I’ve gotten so used to not being alone. It’s become a crutch.”

“It’s not a crutch,” Jongho’s voice had a raspy tinge to it from all the broken sleep. “I see it as my strength. Even when I’m alone, I know that I have my people.”

You hummed. That was certainly one way to look at it. 

You looked up at him, resting your chin on his chest. The faint moonlight illuminated the outlines of his face with a light blue sheen from the crack of dawn, and you could tell that he had a smile on his lips.

“Thank you for staying with me tonight. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“You would have been fine,” he said but you were not having any of it.

“Thank you for letting me go to Eden Square,” you finally addressed what happened. “I think I would have been so cross with myself if I didn’t go today. Secretary Park… I think he’s finally had enough of President Lee too. He was not happy with what happened.”

“Only a monster would have been happy with how things turned out,” Jongho said, shifting so he could look at you. 

“Secretary Park is not the monster that I thought he was. He’s still an evil, evil man,” you asserted. “But… I think I’ll finally have the answers I’ve wanted all this time when I go back to his house. He claims that he needs me in order to protect us, his family.”

“What do you think?” Jongho asked.

“He’s my only family,” you sighed. “He’s the only parent that I have. He may be something of a monster, but he raised me well. If I can protect him from President Lee… I should. I owe him that much.”

“I understand,” Jongho said. “Just remember that you don’t owe the man too much. Don’t end up giving him your all when he doesn’t deserve that. And you’re not responsible for protecting him. He could still be manipulating you.”

“Thank you for understanding, Jongho,” you smiled. 

“You need to stop thanking me,” Jongho laughed helplessly. “I’m just saying it like it is. I understand your reasons. I want you to keep a level head when you’re there, and… even though I want to stop you from going to that house, the decision is yours.”

“You should coach Hongjoong. Or even some of the others,” you scoffed. “It’s going to be an ugly fight with them when they learn what happened.”

“The hyungs…” Jongho began, shifting to support you better when you snuggled closer, almost wrapping you in an embrace. “Seonghwa and Yunho too, they… they love with a fierceness that is overwhelming. I don’t know if they always used to be like this or if it was the circumstances that changed them, but they love like they wouldn’t wake up to see tomorrow.”

You sighed deeply at his admission. That was true. The rest were very casual, almost relaxed with their affection, but the oldest ones did love like there was no tomorrow.

“Which is why they’ll absolutely lose it when they learn what happened here,” he continued. “It’s going to be hard to talk some sense into them. They are fierce and possessive, and it’s not bad at all, no.”

You agreed. “I’ll make sure they understand. It’s not like I’m cutting ties with the Crescents. That’s probably the stance Secretary Park will take but I’m yours. I won’t be turning my back on you guys. You’ll just have to be patient.”

Jongho looked at you with reverence, a smile forming on his lips. You were confused for a second but then realisation washed over you and you smacked his chest, making him chuckle. 

“You’re no better than your hyungs. All that talk and ‘I’m yours’ is the only thing that processes in that big head of yours?”

“I’m guilty,” he admitted with a grin. You shook your head.

“I am yours, though. You should know that.”

Jongho stifled a groan. “You’re awful.”

You hummed in agreement, cupping his face and caressing his cheeks. You had deep respect for the youngest after everything you had been through with him. He was the most understanding and his presence was always a comfort.

To convey your thanks, you looked at him for permission before you pecked his lips softly. He smiled lovingly, sharing another soft kiss before kissing the top of your head.

You slept soundly afterwards.

You were dropped off at your home when you returned back to Sector 1. 

Wendy was not present, probably at work. However, there was a pot of your favourite meal spread on the kitchen counter with a note that said ‘welcome back!’. You smiled at her scribble, feeling close to tears. Before you could confront your emotions, you hopped into the shower and let your tears mix with the running water. 

The hot shower seemed to have delivered the cathartic release that you so needed. You took your time under the water with no engagements for the night, enjoying the mechanical routine of washing your body. Anything to distract you from the constant bang of bullets in your head. 

Dressing in one of your more comfortable sleeping gowns, you picked at your food but managed to get something in your system after a few minutes of internal debate. You were just finishing cleaning up when the doorbell rang. Your eyes darted towards the clock– it was past 7, which meant that it wasn’t Wendy. She usually came home after 9pm. Could it be Winter? You had given her the evening off and asked her to get some air but maybe she came back to join you for the night.

You donned a robe over your black gown and waited until a knock sounded on your door. You opened it just a fraction, sighing in both relief and surprise when you discovered that it was Hongjoong.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, opening the door for him. “Is everything okay?”

“I just wanted to see you,” he said, making a quick scan of your appearance. “Wrong time? This can wait–”

“No, come in,” you made space for him and took his jacket, hanging his outerwear by the door. “I just had dinner. Would you like something? Tea?”

“I’m good,” he assured, looking around the living room while fixing his white dress shirt. “Winter?”

“Gone for the night,” you said and he finally settled down on the sofa. You took a seat in front of him, bringing your legs up to tuck under the material of your gown. “I was going to see you tomorrow morning.”

Hongjoong nodded. “I just came by to make sure you were alright. We can discuss the logistics some other time.”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged vaguely. “As fine as I can be after… the mess. The shower certainly helped,” you let out a weak chuckle but Hongjoong didn’t find it funny.

“Are you here to scold me, Kim Hongjoong?” 

“You always think the worst of me,” he shook his head. “For once, I have no words. I’m mad but I don’t have the words, Luna.”

You pursed your lips. “Did you talk to Jongho yet?”

“A bit. Got a summary of what happened,” he said, folding his arms. “I just… I wish you didn’t go, Luna. That’s all.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I wish I didn’t. I cannot forget the faces of the victims, but… if I didn’t go, no one would have remembered the truth about their last moments.”

Hongjoong sucked in a breath. You had a point.

“How did they look like? In their last moments?”

“Confused,” you recalled. “Afraid, but… angry. We failed them, Hongjoong.”

“Angry at who?” He inquired. “Not at you. Not at themselves for losing their freedom once again to the elites of this continent. Not at Mr. Ji whose cause led them here, but angry at the system, the corruption,” Hongjoong reminded you. “We didn’t fail them. We tried our best. This nation failed them.”

You supposed that he was right. 

“This isn’t the first time our nation has failed its people,” Hongjoong continued after a moment. “Neither is it the first time that someone is fighting back.”

“So you are here to kill my spirits? What’s left of them?” You commented and he scoffed in amusement. 

“I’m here to remind you that you are not a lone fighter,” Hongjoong said. “I’m here to make sure that my sword hasn’t gone rusty.”

“A little, it has,” you answered. “Just like my shield that failed to protect me. I’m meant to leave for the Park Mansion soon, Hongjoong. How will you protect me now?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes for a moment but he quickly masked it, ever the trained warrior. “Why do you fret? You’re still a weapon, Luna. Your defence might be down momentarily but that does not mean you cannot maim in the meanwhile.”

“I won’t be a weapon,” you told him. “I’ll be a shield. I’m going back because I’ve been threatened that one of my people could be rounded up in Eden Square next time. I don’t think I can attempt something while I’m there and risk the safety of the people I love. Do you understand now?”

“You don’t have to protect us,” Hongjoong leaned forward, attempting to reason, his clasped hands clenching and unclenching. “You only have to protect yourself. We’ll work things out, don’t stress about it– at least not tonight. I– I didn’t mean to talk about this and rile you up, I was supposed to comfort you, fuck.”

You watched Hongjoong bury his face in his hands, probably regretting the direction of your conversation. You shook your head, somewhat amused.

“What was your big plan when you decided to come here, Captain?”

Hongjoong sighed deeply into his hands, locking eyes with you. “No plan. I just wanted to make sure that you were not beating yourself up over what happened, and I wanted to make sure that you ate your dinner. I’ll see myself out now.”

Hongjoong started to get up and turned to leave but before you knew it, you were tugging at his sleeves. He stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn to face you, and you thought that it was better this way.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against the space between his shoulders. 

“Must we always talk in circles?” 

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong’s voice no longer sounded authoritative. “It seems like we’re cursed to do so.”

“We’re not,” you chuckled. “Try saying what you mean for once, Joong.”

Hongjoong grunted, trying to think of the words.

“Shall I start?”

He laughed silently. “Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything,” you confessed. “For being mean. For always contradicting you.”

“I don’t think you’re mean,” Hongjoong placed his hand on top of yours where they were clasped around his waist. “And I never want you to submit to me just because I’m the boss. I prefer that you contradict me and we work things out after, even if it takes a few arguments to visualise the same goal.”

“See? That wasn’t too hard,” you smiled. “I bet you’re sorry too.”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong laughed softly. “I’m sorry for being mean and contradicting you so often.”

You smiled. “I don’t mind… okay, I mind it when you’re mean. I don’t think you realise when you’re mean,” you told him. He had to agree. “The other part… I don’t mind that. I know you just want the best for us.”

“I’m sorry for being mean,” Hongjoong gently gripped your hands and brought them to his lips, placing soft kisses on both of them before wrapping them on his chest, right over his heart. “I’ve got a bitter tongue, and I hurt the people I love too often.”

“It’s okay,” you pressed your lips against his back. “Someone’s got to discipline us every once in a while.”

Hongjoong laughed heartily at that. “You sound just like the boys, you know? No wonder they like you so much.”

You grinned at his admission. “And you?”

Hongjoong gently pushed your hands away so he could turn and face you. You took a step back, your lips parting in surprise– you had never seen his eyes so soft, so full of affection. You supposed that in the privacy of this house, he was truly unmasked and unguarded.

Vulnerable, but so sure of his actions. He cradled your face ever so gently and traced the pads of his thumbs across your cheekbones, his eyes memorising every inch of your face. 

“I thought by now you were aware that I am so deeply and helplessly in love with you that I don’t know what to do. I keep making a fool of myself in an attempt to convey my love to you.”

It felt like some fractured part of your heart was patching itself up, his confession like a balm meant to heal you in places you didn’t know you were hurting. Of course you knew that he loved you, however, these words were something you were sure you would never forget. 

A sincere smile grew on his lips. “I promise that I’ll continue to protect you. I know going back to Park Mansion is inevitable now, but I’ll make sure to set things right. You are a Crescent, and nothing will change that. You are a Leader. You are ours, just like we are yours.”

You nodded and he kissed your forehead, lingering there. “Everything will be okay, love.”

You nodded yet again, speechless. The only way you knew to convey your love was through actions so you slid your hands up his chest and cupped his neck, bringing him closer until your lips met in a fierce kiss that was long due now. 

It felt as if a dam of feelings had broken. There was too much to account for– months of push and pull, far too much time spent yearning for each other, unaccounted feelings and words and emotions, but nothing mattered anymore, for now you were where you were meant to be– in the Captain’s protective hold, his lips moving against yours full of promise and love. 

Hongjoong attempted to steer the kiss into something gentle, attempting to convey his sincerity and yearning, but the way you clutched onto the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer had him swallowing a groan instead. He resorted to matching the pace of your lips instead, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss as his hands trailed down your body to wrap around your hips and pull you flush to his body. 

Hongjoong pulled back, his brows furrowed as he inspected your expressions. A faint smile crawled on your lips and you shut your eyes as you brushed the tip of your nose with his. 

“Such a beautiful thing, you are,” Hongjoong cupped your face with one hand, admiring the way you leaned into his touch. With his other hand, he pulled your black robe away from your shoulder, exposing the thin straps of your gown. “My strong warrior. My love.”

Your lips trembled in the slightest and he immediately captured them in a kiss, this time soft and meaningful. He moved in a rhythmic manner, every movement of his hands laced with intention. Slowly, he slid the robe off your body, leaving you in your nightgown that was a simple silk top and shorts with lace decorating the curve of your neck. He traced the pattern with his fingers and cupped your breast once before pulling away from the kiss and attaching his mouth to the curve of your neck.

You craned your neck and let out a deep moan, wrapping your arms around his chest and pulling him closer. He trailed sweet kisses along your collarbone and then pulled the strap with his teeth before kissing the bare skin there, making you chuckle slightly.

“Are you teasing me right now?”

The way he looked at you in response had you shivering in his grasp. You had never seen this look on him– desire and yearning in his eyes. Possessiveness. The two of you moved in unison and shared a deep kiss before he picked you up in his arms and started leading towards the room with the open door and leaking dim light that he naturally assumed was yours. 

You caressed his face lovingly as he laid you down on the bed, ever so gently. He started by trailing his hand along your bare thighs, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. You hooked your legs around him but he remained unfazed, settling into a comfortable position and kissing you leisurely. You decided to play along. 

It felt like you had all the time in this world. No rushed kisses. No desperation anymore. Just the yearning from all the time spent picking on each other instead of embracing each other now finally translating in the form of caresses and kisses. 

Where was the man who sometimes failed to conceal the lust in his eyes when he looked at you? Where was the man who concealed a promise in his words– the promise to break you apart? Was this the man who seemed to have enjoyed it when you were frustrated when he watched you kiss Seonghwa with your eyes fixed on him instead? 

This man was someone unfamiliar, or perhaps… vulnerable. True and bare. He held your hand with a reverence that spoke volumes– nothing that he could ever say out loud in words. He kissed your lips with a gentleness that proved his love for you, a whisper of his confession. He traced the outlines of your body with intentions that were all but pure. He swallowed your moans and whimpers with his tongue, resting his core on top of yours and making you restless with each second, yet he remained unmoving without exhibiting any control. 

When he finally separated his lips from yours, he watched you for a long time. He fixed his eyes on yours as he began to worship your body, starting with taking off your top. He muttered praises all along. Beautiful. Mine. So lovely. Mine. A piece of my heart. 

Mine. Mine. Mine.

You were no longer hesitant with your actions, but you felt a bit shy when you dug your fingers in his hair, the soft strands tickling your skin. You tugged at his hair just a bit when he wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples after teasing it for too long. You tangled your limbs, feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible. 

Your Captain. Yours.

While he was fondling your breasts, you tugged at his shirt and he let you take a moment to unbutton it. He threw it off and you frown as you inspect the multiple scars scattered across his body, ranging from faded short ones to stitched long ones. 

“What… happened?” You asked, hesitant fingertips reaching out to trace the marks.

Hongjoong didn’t shy away. “I was not always a good soldier. It took me a while to learn how to fight.”

You met his eyes. He smiled at the worry in yours and held your hands, squeezing them affectionately. “It’s okay. They switched me over to Strategy before I could get myself killed. Yunho and… General Wi taught me how to fight and properly defend myself afterwards.”

General Wi. You smiled fondly at his admission. “You must really admire the man, then.”

“Admire, not very much anymore, but respect? I think, yeah,” he admitted. “He is not a bad man and I wish I could help him more.”

“You’re doing enough,” you told him. “Don’t be too harsh on yourself.”

He kissed your forehead, clearly wanting to change the topic. You pulled him to your lips again and shared a reverent kiss, tracing your hands across his marred back and chest.

“You’re beautiful,” you told him when you broke the kiss and he shook his head. “You are. I won’t hear a no.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” he grabbed your left hand and traced the scar that ran along your thumb. “Did you get this in the war too?”

“Oh, no,” you chuckled. “This I got from a foolish fight with Sunghoon.”

His gaze darkened immediately and you poked his chest. “He didn’t hurt me. It was an accident, I accidentally grazed a nail.”

“So it is because of him,” his jaw clenched. “I’m killing him the next time I see him.”

“You’re awful,” you chuckled, letting him trace patterns on your bare waist.

You locked eyes with him and tugged at the waistband of his slacks and he raised an eyebrow. You purposefully tugged at it again and he let out a shaky breath.

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” you nodded eagerly. “Of course I am, Captain. You made me wait for too long.”

He let out a deep guttural laugh and removed your panties first, throwing them away carelessly over his back. His lips started to trail soft kisses along your inner thigh, hands squeezing at the curve of your hips and you tried not to squirm too much under his grasp. He saw how aroused you were for him but he didn’t comment on it. He simply locked his eyes with yours for that final bit of permission before caressing your mound lightly with his fingertips. 

You jerked under his touch and he pressed the pad of his thumb to your clit before his fingers worked his way down and deeper, sliding a digit inside you with ease and following with a second soon after. His free hand traced up until it braced itself on your shoulder, his hot gaze watching the way you moved under his touch. 

“Too much?” He asked but when you shook your head, he curled his fingers deeper, making you arch slightly, your fists gripping the sheets. He explored the cavity with leisureness, making the coil in your stomach grow tighter and tighter, threatening to snap–

And then he drew away. You let out a soft sound in protest and he shook his head, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“I want to be inside you when I make you cum.”

With a kiss to your cheek, he pulled his pants and briefs down in one motion, freeing his half-hard cock. You licked your lips at the sight, watching and waiting, something deep growing in your abdomen as a wave of fresh arousal coursed through you. He pumped his cock a couple of times before looking around–

“It’s okay,” you told him and his features contorted into confusion. “I… I’m on contraceptives. You don’t need a condom.”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, barely able to contain himself. “Are you sure? I have one, it’s not a problem–”

“I’m sure. I– I want this,” you breathed and he could feel something inside of him break at the vulnerability in your voice. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

Hongjoong regarded you with interest. “Have you done this with anyone before?”

“Without a condom?” No,” you told him the truth. You had been intimate with Yunho and Seonghwa so far. With Yeosang and San, it hadn’t gotten to this point yet. 

But right now… you needed this. You did not know if it was because it was Hongjoong or because of the recent circumstances, but you needed to feel the utmost level of intimacy. You needed to feel every inch of him– inside you, on top of you, everywhere. 

“Come here, please,” you said in a shaky voice and he immediately obeyed, getting on top of you and kissing you slowly, passionately, his cock resting between your folds and being lubricated by your arousal as you moved against him, your arms wrapped around him and held him close. When you didn’t let go of him, he took it as a sign and shifted to bury his cock inside you. 

With just the tip inside, he had you groaning and clutching at him, your legs wrapping around him to ease him inside you. He clasped your hand with his free one and guided himself inside you slowly and surely with the other, letting out a deep moan when he was done. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, now both hands clasping yours and pinning them to the bed. “Fuck, y/n.”

He moved experimentally, rolling his hips and resting his head on the bed near yours, lips finding your shoulders to give you soft, tender kisses. When you moved in return, he shivered involuntarily and slowly started to thrust into you with deep, meaningful strokes. 

“You’re going to end me,” he whispered and you smiled, sharing a sweet kiss with him. “Fuck, baby. You’re really going to kill me.”

“You’re saying that,” you sighed in pleasure, moving in synchronisation with his thrusts. There was no urgency, just the desire to feel each other and make the most of the moment. Your walls twitched, indicating an approaching orgasm but Hongjoong made no effort to speed up. He kept his eyes locked with yours, hands caressing yours as he thrusted in a steady motion, making the delicious feeling in your stomach grow larger with each movement.

Your breath started to grow quicker and Hongjoong’s gaze fell on your parted mouth. He wet his lips before diving into your mouth with his tongue, the kiss growing hot and heavy as his thrusts started to become unsteady. 

He unwound his hands from yours and pulled away to cradle your body in his arms before thrusting deeper into you, your moans intermingling. His lips felt like feathers against your temple and you wrapped your arms around his back, telling him that you were close.

“Good, good,” he said with a shaky exhale. “Come for me, love. You’re doing so well, fuck–”

Your orgasm may have been slowly approaching but it hit you with surprise when he held you impossibly closer and you came apart in his arms, an electric feeling coursing through your veins, your deep moan music to his ears. He kept thrusting and followed soon after with a deep groan, trembling under your touch. 

He eased your orgasm and his with slow strokes but settled down on top of you, kissing your temple over and over again. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and he rolled over to the side, remaining inside of you for a few moments while he studied your face. 

“You’re beautiful, my love,” he told you, tucking your hair back, a sincere, almost childish grin on his lips. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Stop,” you flushed, laughing at the irony of how it was his words that made your cheeks warm when he was still inside you. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love me,” he scoffed.

“I do,” you smiled sincerely. “Kim Hongjoong. I love you so much. Don’t you ever forget that. Don’t you ever doubt that– not for a moment.”

Hongjoong’s smile fell at your confession. He could tell why you chose to say those words now. He would be holding on to these words after you leave for Edenary. 

Silently, he slid out of you and waited until he could breathe normally, his hands caressing the curves of your hips, eyes fixed on the contact. You called his name but he didn’t respond. He disappeared and when you heard the sound of water running, you sighed in relief.

He was still here. He wasn’t leaving you alone. 

He returned with a towel and a glass of water. Without uttering a word, he handed you the glass while he proceeded to clean you up with gentle swipes. He tossed the towel and got inside the covers after tucking you in. When you moved closer, he wrapped you in a sure embrace as if he would never let you go.

You wished he wouldn’t.

“Hongjoong,” you called softly and he hummed this time, pulling you a little closer and rolling over so you were slightly on top of him while he laid on his back. With a hand buried in your hair and another around your waist, he synchronised his breathing with yours.

“I need you to trust me when I tell you that I will change things,” you started to say, hand caressing the ragged scar that ran across his shoulder. “I don’t know how slow it will be, but I am Luna of the Crescent. I am nobody’s daughter. I am nobody’s sister. I am just Luna now. A part of Ateez. A Leader. A Crescent. I am yours– all of yours. I will return to my rightful place in your arms.”

Hongjoong clutched you tighter so you wouldn’t feel the tremble in his hands. He kept you snug to his chest so you wouldn’t move and see the sheen of tears in his eyes. 

“I hate that you have to go,” he said, failing to keep the tremor in his voice. When you tried to move, he held you tighter and you understood. “I hate that I have to let you go. But I want you to know that you are just Luna. You don’t have to play any roles anymore. You are simply a woman who needs to return to her home right here, okay? Return safely. Return proudly. Return whole.”

“I promise,” you told him, determination in your voice. “Thank you for believing in me. I love you, Joong. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he replied with a kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t doubt that, and I will never forget that.”

next chapter

taglist pt 1:

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[gothamite-rambler]

Talia and Bruce sat in the principal's office after Damian's altercation at school with a bully named Levin, who had been tormenting him and his friend throughout the school year. Bruce remained calm, trying to reason with the principal to avoid Damian's expulsion, while Talia was in full mama bear defensive mode.

Talia (shouting): If you weren’t going to stop that racist ya Homaar bullying, then of course my innocent Dami had no choice but to defend himself!

As Talia rightfully raged and sided with her son, Principal Lynn took long sips from her coffee having grown used to these types of meetings when Talia dropped by.

Talia (cont'd to shout): The fact that he had to put his hands on someone is that ibn iš-šarmuuTa fault! And the insults Levin hurled at my Hayati ranged from calling him a sand snake to planting doubts in Damian’s mind that he might not be related to Bruce Wayne, the love of my life and husband—

Bruce (interrupting as a headache formed): Divorced.

Talia: We can work that out. The point is, I saw the video of the lead up to my Habibi defending himself! So he will not be expelled. If you try to expel him, I will sue this school for every cent you refuse to spend on extracurricular activities and my son’s art class! I will win and then demolish the building, salt the land and curse you and your family!

Talia finished, her breathing heavy while Bruce rested his arm on the right side of his chair, tapping his forehead silently.

Principal Lynn: Are you finished?

Talia (sitting back): Yes, you may speak.

Principal Lynn: I was going to say your son may face expulsion due to our zero-tolerance policy. But since it’s his first offense, Levin did shove him first, and considering you threatened to sue again and paid for the computers in the lab, I can give him in-school suspension for the next three weeks.

Bruce (agreeing to the punishment): That’s fine.

Talia (against this): Three weeks in-school suspension for defending himself?! What kind of nonsense is that? I should have sent him to a school outside of America!

Bruce: Talia, stop talking before you get him expelled and you get banned from the premises again. I already have enough on my plate without your craziness.

Talia crossed her arms, her brow furrowing in frustration as the meeting continued. Principal Lynn blinked, then cleared her throat.

Principal Lynn: A week of suspension, two weeks in-school suspension, and he can have his assignments sent home during this time.

Bruce: Deal.

Talia: That works for me too. I can take him on vacation then.

Bruce: That’s not happening.

Principal Lynn (to Bruce): Does she live with you?

Bruce: No.

Principal Lynn (dryly): Must be bliss?

Bruce: Usually is.

Principal Lynn nodded, then turned back to them.

Principal Lynn: You can take Damian. His punishment starts tomorrow. I’m not going to tell you what the other child's punishment will be.

Talia then slid over five hundred-dollar bills. Bruce looked up at the ceiling, practically praying to God, silently asking why Talia was showing up now. The principal calmly took the money and pocketed it.

Principal Lynn: Since he started the fight, his punishment will be worse regardless of the bribe. With the bribe I'll add on an extra week.

Talia: Money can always fix things.

Bruce: Why do I feel like I’m being punished?

arabic words and phrases:

ya Homaar - Son of a donkey

ibn iš-šarmuuTa - son of a whore

Hayati - my life

Habibi - beloved

[daxisyzz]

⁺‧˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 | 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋆ ˚‧⁺

𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 3: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒆𝒐'𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Pairings: ceo!boss!bucky barnes × fem!reader

Other characters: bestfriend!Natasha romanoff, platonic!coworker! Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson and Peter Parker.

Contents: fake dating, chaotic relationship dynamic, workplace romance, contract relationship.

Summary: News of your relationship spreads like wildfire, and suddenly, you’re the most talked-about person in the company. Between nosy coworkers, jealous stares, and Bucky mysteriously showing up wherever you go, you start to wonder—who exactly is pretending here?

Word count: 2.3k+

Warnings and tags: Bucky’s mean for a split second, he's a cute menace, hyper bestie Nat, judgemental office people, Reader keeps spiralling, many scene switches.

Series masterlist

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Inspired by the kdrama Business Proposal

Previously on Business Proposal...

You stare at him, fully aware you're about to sign away your entire life. And yet—your landlord just raised the rent, your boss (who's sitting in front of you) is on the verge of layoffs, and your bank account is actively crying.

You had no choice.

With utter resignation, you grab the pen, sign the contract, and glare at him.

“If I go to jail for this, I’m haunting you.”

Bucky smirks, completely unbothered. "Oh, sweetheart, this is just the beginning."

_____________________●

It has been two days since you held that contract and signed it to become your boss's girlfriend. Nothing much has happened except for you learning info about Bucky from a file he provided, about his likes and dislikes—to make it more realistic.

You walked into the office exhausted. No one knew about your relationship yet, and you didn’t know when he was going to reveal it to the public, but you weren’t exactly thrilled. For the past few days, Bucky had been his typical self: ice-cold with a petty streak the size of the Empire State Building.

You were beginning to think you had signed a contract with the devil himself. Ever since you agreed to be Bucky Barnes' girlfriend, he had done nothing but make your life miserable in the most cliché way possible.

Your inbox was flooded.

Your calendar was triple-booked.

And worst of all?

He was making you present at the 8 a.m. executive meeting without any warning.

You were dying.

He walked past your desk, perfectly polished in his charcoal suit with a smug aura, and tossed a file down—barely glancing at you.

"Need this by four."

You blinked at him, jaw slack.

"You said five—"

He cut you off smoothly: "I changed my mind." You stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. He smirked. Smirked.

"Oh, and don’t forget the new compliance reports. I want your summary on my desk first thing tomorrow."

"Are you serious?" you asked, already spiraling.

"Every time."

He turned and walked off like a villain in a spy movie while you genuinely contemplated sending your resignation via passive-aggressive memes.

Later that evening, you sat at your desk after work hours, rubbing your eyes among empty coffee cups and a document that refused to format itself.

Bucky emerged from his office with a silent air which, in your state, you might have missed if he hadn’t cleared his throat.

You didn’t look at him.

He came closer, leaning against your office doorframe and clearing his throat again to catch your attention.

"I might’ve overdone it," he said eventually.

You still didn’t look.

"I didn’t mean to actually... break you."

That finally got your attention. You turned to face him with a deadpan glare. "You gave me seven different tasks with three conflicting deadlines."

He winced. "In my defense, you lied to my face—twice."

"And in my defense, I’m one paper jam away from committing a felony."

He chuckled, then softened.

"Go home," he said quietly.

"I'll send the rest to someone else."

You stared. "What's the catch?"

"No catch." He hesitated, then added with a small smile, "I'll make it up to you. Fake boyfriend's honor."

You grabbed your bag and muttered, "Whatever weird revenge arc this is, I hope it ends soon."

He watched you gather your things in silence, too tired to argue.

Your eyes were rimmed red from hours of screen-staring, and your shoulders slumped under the weight of the day he’d dumped on you. Even now, you didn’t say anything snarky or bite back.

You simply walked past him with a quiet “Thanks.”

And that was somehow worse.

Bucky leaned against the glass wall of your office, jaw clenched. Damn it.

"She tricked you first," his brain reminded him, smug and cruel. "She pretended to be someone else, played me like a fool."

But…

"She looked like she was about to cry," he muttered under his breath, running a hand down his face. "I’m not a monster."

It wasn’t that he meant to overwork you—not really. He just got carried away. You made him feel off-kilter, and he didn’t like that. So he punished you with tasks, meetings, and impossible deadlines.

Petty.

Childish.

Effective.

But now? Now he felt like crap.

"Why do I feel guilty? She lied first."

He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "This isn't in the contract."

After a well-deserved sleep, you woke up feeling somewhat refreshed. You got ready, dreading the day ahead. Something was not right—you could feel it. Your gut never lies.

The word was out.

You were halfway through your iced coffee when Peter Parker, the new social media manager you befriended, ran into the office as if he had personally discovered the second coming of Christ.

"Are you dating the CEO?!"

You blinked, barely registering his words.

"What—no—what?!"

"Peter, inside voice," Wanda muttered behind him as she slid into her chair.

Sam raised an eyebrow from behind his computer. "So it's true."

You glanced around. The entire floor buzzed with whispers. You could feel their stares poking at you. Someone was even scrolling through a Reddit thread titled "The Employee Who Tamed the CEO."

You didn’t know how it leaked—maybe HR—but by lunch, the entire office knew.

You were dating Bucky Barnes.

You didn’t even have time to breathe before he appeared. There he was, in one of his many ridiculously tailored suits, slow strides and perfectly styled hair, his smirk as infuriating as ever. And—was that a second cup of coffee in his hand?

"Morning, babe," he said, placing your favorite order right next to your elbow.

"You looked tired yesterday. Thought I'd help." You stared at the drink like it might explode. Everyone’s jaw dropped.

You opened your mouth to respond but— "Oh, babe," Bucky interjected smoothly, crouching next to your desk like it was an everyday routine, "I've canceled all your meetings so you can rest. Just attend the brainstorming session, alright?"

Babe?

You made a strangled noise in your throat. "Alright," you said with a smile that suggested your soul wasn’t screaming.

Later, alone in the break room, you cornered him by the fridge, voice low and frantic. "What is happening?! Yesterday you tried to kill me via Google Calendar, and now you're acting like we’ve been married for five years."

Bucky leaned against the counter, calm as ever. "Things changed."

"Oh, really?"

"The office knows. Gotta sell it."

You stared. "So your solution is to completely change your personality?!"

He smiled—soft, this time. "No. I’m just being the boyfriend you tricked me into becoming." You opened your mouth.

Then closed it.

"...I need stronger coffee," you muttered, turning on your heel.

Behind you, Bucky’s grin widened as if he were enjoying it way too much.

You sat at your usual table in the cafeteria with Wanda, Sam, and Peter, eating lunch and pretending not to notice the sideways glances from other tables.

"They’re staring again," Peter whispered, leaning over his tray of fries.

Wanda didn’t even look up from her salad. "Let them. I’d stare too if my friend suddenly started dating our CEO."

"It’s wild, though," Sam grinned. "One day you’re quietly working like the rest of us, and the next day—boom. CEO’s smiling like someone handed him the keys to his dream car."

You covered your face with your hands. "Can we not talk about this?"

Too late.

The cafeteria door swung open with an audible creak.

In walked Natasha Romanoff—hair perfect, sunglasses still on indoors, lips pressed as if she meant business.

She stopped in the middle of the room, scanned the crowd, and headed straight for you.

"Oh no," you whispered. "She found me." Wanda blinked. "You didn’t tell her?"

"I was going to. Eventually. Maybe. In a controlled environment."

Nat reached your table, hands on her hips. "You! We’re talking. Now."

You barely had time to set your drink down before she grabbed your wrist and pulled you up from the chair.

Sam let out a low whistle. "Uh-oh."

Peter muttered, "Good luck," as if sending you off to war.

Natasha didn’t say a word as she marched you through the halls, then stopped at an empty meeting room and shut the door behind you. Only once she let go of your arm did she speak. She simply stared before saying,

"I’m sorry."

You blinked. "What?"

"I’m serious," she said softly. "I should’ve never made you take that date for me. I was being selfish, and I didn’t think it’d spiral into... this." She gestured vaguely, as if “this” were too ridiculous to name.

You folded your arms. "Nat, it’s fine. Really."

She stared harder. "You almost got fired. That’s on me."

You shifted uneasily. "I didn’t. So don’t worry about it."

She shook her head. "No. You went to that restaurant dressed like a lunatic to scare a stranger off—and that stranger turned out to be your boss. The boss. This is peak corporate drama. I should’ve never put you in that situation."

You hesitated cause Nat seemed tohave no clue. "You didn’t force me. I said yes."

"You always say yes when I ask for stuff. That doesn’t mean I should’ve asked."

Your expression softened. "Well, joke’s on you, 'cause I bagged my CEO."

Nat stared. "You what now?"

You grinned exaggeratedly. "Yep. Dating him now. Whole-ass relationship."

Her mouth opened slightly. "Wait. Are you serious?"

You nodded, still beaming(gotta sell the act). "It’s... new. And weird. But yeah."

She squinted at you. "Since when are you into CEO types?"

"Since they started showing up at my desk with cappuccinos and weirdly good cologne."

Nat stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Okay, but—are you okay? Is he pushing you into anything? I swear, if he’s threatening you behind all that rich guy charm—"

"No," you interrupted quickly. "Nothing like that. He’s... surprisingly nice."

She narrowed her eyes. "You’re being really vague. Suspiciously vague..."

"...I can tell when you're lying."

"I’m happy, Nat."

She paused, then said, "Fine. I’ll pretend I believe you. But just know I’ll gut him if he hurts you."

You laughed. "Duly noted."

Nat sighed, stepping back and brushing imaginary dust off your blazer. "Alright. If you’re gonna keep seeing him, we’re leveling up your date-night looks. I’m pulling up to your door with all my new collections."

You blinked. "For what?"

"For your next date. You think you’re gonna keep dating the city’s most eligible CEO and wear those sad office blouses? No offense, but—no."

You groaned. "Nat—"

"Nope. Already picking dresses in my head. You’ll thank me later when you look like a million bucks and he’s short-circuiting."

You squinted. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"I need this win," she said seriously. "You deserve to look like a goddess after what I dragged you into."

You softened. "You’re forgiven. Really."

She smiled, finally relaxing. "Good. I'll leave you to it. I need the details soon. Gotta go, love—bye." She sent a kiss as you gave a tiny wave back.

The door to the meeting room clicked shut behind Natasha as she continued her day, leaving you alone with that drink still in your hand. You were still processing the chaotic whirlwind of her advice—especially about the date. You had thought she’d be more subtle, but that was clearly too much to ask.

You stared at your phone, shaking your head in disbelief as you scrolled through Natasha's texts. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to focus on a reply, but the flood of messages kept coming in.

Natasha: “This red dress screams ‘CEO arm candy.’”

Natasha: “Do you own heels that don’t look like they’ve been to war?”

Natasha: “Lipstick shade: ‘I will ruin you.’ Thoughts?”

Natasha: “Wait, should I book a glam team? I know people.”

You could practically hear her voice in every text, each one more ridiculous than the last. Rolling your eyes, you typed back, trying to keep the sarcasm to a minimum:

You: “Nat, please—I work in marketing. This isn’t Bridgerton.”

Almost immediately, a new text arrived, and your eyes widened at the sight of the attached picture—a sparkly, backless dress that was way too much for a fake date. You sighed dramatically and shook your head. Just as you were about to craft a snarky reply, the sudden sensation of being watched made the hairs on your neck stand up.

You froze, your stomach twisting with a mix of nerves and something else. Before you could even turn, you felt a familiar presence in the doorway, and your heart skipped a beat.

There stood Bucky Barnes—silent, tall, his frame filling the entrance as he cast a shadow over your phone while he watched you.

You gasped, nearly dropping your phone. "God—!"

Bucky blinked, unfazed, as he stepped into the room, casually sipping from his travel mug. "Coffee machine’s slow today."

"No. You’re a creep," you hissed, clutching your chest. "Were you standing there the whole time?"

He sipped his mug, glancing at your phone as you tried to hide the screen in panic. "Planning something without me?"

You scrambled for words. "It’s just Nat. She’s... enthusiastic."

Bucky leaned on the conference table beside you, his eyes locked on your phone. His expression was unreadable, but the corners of his mouth twitched—as if he were holding back a smile. "Red dress or the sparkly one?"

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "You—!"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "You type loud."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "Why are you like this?"

He brushed past you, heading toward the counter as if he hadn’t just startled you.

"Just making sure my girlfriend’s not cheating on me with Valentino," he murmured casually. Then, with a wink, he added, "I have to keep up the act, don’t I?"

Your heart raced, and your mind scrambled to catch up with his sudden shift in demeanor. The flirtatious, teasing tone sent your stomach flipping.

Before you could say another word, he was already out of the room—as if he had places to be, the ever-dedicated workaholic.

Still staring at the door, you took a deep breath, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Your fingers flew to your phone, sending a quick text to Natasha in search of clarity amidst the chaos.

You: “He’s possessed. He’s like boyfriend of the year now. I need answers.”

You waited, and it didn’t take long before Natasha’s reply lit up your screen.

Natasha: “So what I’m hearing is: red dress.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but laugh. Shaking off the unease Bucky left behind, one thing was clear: things were getting way more complicated than they should be.

A/n: sorry for uploading this a bit late but here's the next episode. Lemme know your thoughts. Love you guys. Have a great day!!

Taglist: @calwitch, @scott-loki-barnes, @baw1066, @awesompawsum, @bucky-baby-barnes, @marianastudiesart, @pattiemac1, @maryevm, @borkybawnes, @mcira

[siriuslysmutty]

Price gets the notification. (Part 2 to this)

CW: Pregnancy, inappropriate relations, Price is still giving orders, angst with a soft(er) ending

The email appears in his inbox while his team is getting they're routine medical checks. The words NOTICE: Medical Check Denied flashes on the subject line and he groans outwardly. He gets them for recruits that don't meet weight or injured themselves and try to walk it off. Below it reads the automatic generated line of:

"Captain J. Price, this email is to notify you that the following soldier is not fit for active duty and cannot..." he rubs a palm down his face in irritation. He's not in the mood today. He'd slept wrong last night, leaving him barely able to turn his head to the right, the coffee pot exploded yesterday because some idiot left it empty with the warmer on, and he hadn't even had his smoke break this morning because of paperwork piling up.

He's hoping it's one of the grunts so he can designate filling the spot to his lieutenant. Dragging his mouse to click on the email, he lets his eyes scan it.

Only his brow furrows at the name listed. Your name. "God dammit," he grumbles with experation. He knew your streak of best behavior would end, he just didn't know when.

Ever since that night where he'd pinned you down and fucked you into submission he'd felt the guilt and shame gnawing at the back of his mind. His biggest pain in the ass and the most infurating subordinate he had broke him. Him!

He couldn't deny the effectiveness his inapproariate behavior had on you. You could still barely meet his eyes. You hadn't denied a single order from him since. Gone were the days that you mouthed off to your Captain and in were the days that you followed orders. A miracle that had the rest of the team nearly as baffled as him.

When Simon pressed a few weeks ago about what'd he'd done Price had managed out a calm, "Finally found a punishment that stuck." But refused to elaborate more.

He hates that he has to adjust his trousers a bit at the simple sight of your name on his monitor. (Because as pained as he is to admit, that night had been playing like a broken record in his head in every quiet moment of the last month.) But he narrows his eyes to see just what you'd done now.

Captain J. Price, this email is to notify you that the following soldier is not fit for active duty and cannot be deployed.

Your name sits on the next line by itself in all caps. Tauntingly.

Due to PREGNANCY this soldier is not permitted to be deployed. The attached forms will need to be filed within a week of this email to further this case. Any inquaries must be sent to the Human Resources Department to fight this case.

His heart stutters before he finds himself roaring out a louder "GODDAMMIT!"

He sees red because of that little shit! Furious over the fact that you could possibly be so reckless. It only lasts a moment. A breif moment where he's cocking his arm back to throw his hat.

Then he's shouting "FUCK!" because he realizes he can't even *blame* you. Not certainly. Because it is entirely pausible he is a party to this incident, and if so, there will be hell to be paid by both of you.

A knock sounds. The lazy rap of it tells him it's probably his lieutenant. The door cracks before opening and sure enough, Riley is peering at him with a bland expression. "Someone piss in your coffee?" He grunts.

"Where is she?" He hisses at his lieutenant who doesn't even have to ask. He already knows from the veins on the Captain's forehead.

"Sent her and the other two Sargeants to medical for their physicals twenty minutes ago. Need me to fetch her?" He rumbles in that Manchester accent.

"Immediately."

He gets a nod of affirmation and off his lieutenant goes, no questions asked. It takes all of ten minutes before the knock returns and the door to his office is opened again.

"In ya get." His lieutenant orders, irrately at you.

What Price is not expecting is the tears streaking your face as you slide in, too terrified to even look at him. You sniffle and flinch as Ghost slams the door behind him and leaves you to be displined.

Price wavers a beat, silence filling his office asside fro. You descreetly sniffling and wipijg your eyes. He begins sternly, trying his best not to fold to those pitiful hiccups. "Well? What've you got to say for yourself?"

You finally look at him with puffy eyes. "Wh-what are you... refering to, Captain?" You manage to croak.

"The email from medical I just got about you being unfit for active duty!" He bites out, short tempered.

You sob. Actually sob. "They already emailed you?" Your disbelief is clear. He marches around his desk to loom over you.

"How many men have you been entertaining exactly?" He demands sharply and more tears well up in your eyes at what he's insinuating.

Your lip wobbles and you shrink before murmuring. "Just you..." all at once his heart aches. Guilt rushes back to him. Drowning him.

"I need the fuckin' truth," he bites out, softer than before. "I deserve to know the truth."

"You..." you sniffle. "Only you..."

Price sighs after watching you hold your ground despite everything. It's a wrench. A shock. Something that terrifies John.

"Shite..." he mutters lowly, then he's coaxing you gently against his chest and you go willingly as he pulls you into a deep hug. "Alright, I'm sorry for yelling." He hums. "Your not the only one to blame."

You tremble in his arms and toughen up as quick as you can. A moment of pity. It gives him a moment to plan. Consider his options. And by the time your drying your tears and sitting back he's got everything plotted out

"I'll get the paperwork started for your transfer." Your eyes widen at him.

"What!? But Captain-!"

"I'll have none of that," he huffs. "You are not allowed to be in the same unit as your husband if he's not the same rank. That is a conflict of interest." Your eyes bug at him.

"Husband!?"

"I'll book the chapel, too. Just worry about picking out a dress." He hums like your discussing mission objectives and not marriage, swiping a stray tear trail with a calloused thumb.

"Captain, I never agreed-" His palms press to your cheeks, tilting your face up towards his.

"The mistake has been made," he grunts out. "I'm still your Captain as of this moment. So I'm ordering you to go pick out a dress for the chapel. Don't you worry about anything else. I've got it covered, we'll have you in married housing by the end of the week."

"But, sir, we-"

"Ah, ah. Stress is bad for the baby." He insists and then his mouth is on yours for a firm kiss. "Go on. Got paperwork to file. You're dismissed."

Your world is spinning all at once, but don't you worry. He's got a plan for every situation and he's not one to botch much.

Next Part

[stellewriites]

toxic ex-bf!price

reposting bc i accidentally deleted it like an idiot about a month or so back,, so you might recognise it 🥲

ex-bf!price that had pushed your boundaries one too many times - "i'm sorry, love, you know i prefer feelin' you when we have sex. and it's not like you don't insist on taking the pill anyway," or "you can't reschedule meeting up with your friends? had to call in a few favours to get this reservation last minute to surprise ya," or "don't understand why you keep that job, pet. i make enough for both of us, and it means you barely have time for me when i'm back," - until you finally called it quits and broke up.

only he didn't take that well. didn't seem to be able to even acknowledge it at all in fact; carrying on as normal until you changed the locks, had him banned from your work, told your friends and family to avoid him.

once he saw you meant it this time, he started getting pushy. following you to work or to the store; calling you on unknown numbers day and night; leaving you flowers on your doorstep.

you'd tried to block him on everything, were actively looking for a new apartment and possibly even a job if he got bold enough to show up and cause a fuss again. hell, the thought of moving cities had even crossed your mind, if only it didn't mean leaving behind your friends and family. being isolated was the last thing you needed right now with john watching your every move.

but then one day john's calls just stopped, and the weight of his eyes on your back when you walked home was gone.

cautiously, after two months of silence and no more surprise gifts, you figured he'd finally moved on and you started hesitantly dating again under your friends' encouragement. nothing serious, just getting you back into the swing of things starting with a friend of a friend, someone half familiar, safe; no pressure, just dinner.

you should've known john had been away, back on the job instead of accepting your decision to split. that his silence was born from forced separation and not respect.

he's never taken you seriously before, why would he have started then?

you didn't know how john always managed to find you, didn't need to know really. not when he was already making his way over to your table.

your date caught your widening eyes and turned around before you could warn him - though what would you have said either way? what words could encompass all that john is and effectively warn against him?

"move," john demanded when he stopped by the chair your date occupied.

your date, harry, sputtered and you felt your cheeks heat as john's eyes refused to leave yours.

"you've got five seconds before i shift ya myself," john threatened, finally looking down at your date. when he hesitated too long, john's hand shot out to the back of his collar and yanked him up by the scruff like a kitten before replacing him in the chair.

harry seemed to finally find his second wind, though you wished for his sake he'd tucked his tail and ran instead, as he puffed up in indignance.

"who do you think you are? you can't-"

"fuck off, mate. i want to enjoy dinner with the missus."

tears - angry and wretched - had gathered in your eyes as you helplessly watched on. aware of the looks you were garnering in the restaurant. john's boot hooked into your chair beneath the table to roughly pull you forward, the drag of it loud enough to have you hunch your shoulder self-consciously. the table edge dug into your stomach uncomfortably, stopping you from pushing back and standing to leave.

trapped.

you vaguely registered your date leaving and you fiddled with your napkin to avoid john's blue eyes. his intense stare bordering on a glare; and you worried for him, foolishly, wondering how long a man could go without blinking before it began to ache.

keeping his strong leg between yours, john took a sip of your wine, leaving harry's untouched. he sniffed, lips pursed, unimpressed at the quality. he flagged down a waiter and ordered you both new drinks and said you'd take the food to go when it was ready. gave them his card preemptively so he could pay there and then, no loose ends to faff with since you both were ready to go home soon.

your napkin was in shreds by time the waiter left.

"look at me, love."

you trembled in your seat as he hunched forward on his elbows, taking up most of the small table, his head dipped to catch your eyes. you looked up and sniffled pitifully at the anger held in the lines of his face, breath hitching when he reached out for your hand.

he didn't take it like you'd assumed he would, instead he left it open and waited for you to voluntarily place yours in his grasp.

"don't think of runnin', pet. you'll just make it worse."

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

slow kisses - Joel Miller

900 Followers Milestone Celebration - kissing prompts

bio : This story is part of the 900 Followers Milestone Celebration - kissing prompts.

person ordering: anon

warnings : fluff, married life, desire to have sex, Sarah is still small, a few curses

[my masterlist]

You were sure you had reached your maximum level of exhaustion. Such a level had to exist, right? After a whole week at work, where no one spared you, when you had to combine household duties with raising a four-year-old daughter - you had every right to feel tired.

And there was your husband, Joel. The owner of a construction company, who worked just as hard as you and had just returned home.

You heard him take off his shoes and slowly walk up the stairs. Soon, in the bathroom doorway, you saw the face of your beloved man. Hair tousled, eyes tired, but still with a smile just for you.

"Sarah, is he sleeping? It's so quiet..." he murmured, brushing his lips against your cheek.

You sighed. "Yeah, I promised her we'd go for ice cream tomorrow and she went to bed early."

"So we'll go." he rested his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and looked at your shared reflection in the mirror "I'm so fucking tired... This renovation is killing me."

"I know, honey. You snore so loudly that..."

"I don't snore at all." Joel was outraged, frowning and quickly pinching your butt "You also collapse on the bed at the end of the day. Ughh... We both work too much."

He snuggled against your back and inhaled the sweet scent of shower gel. “Would you like a little you-know-what today?”

You chuckled. "Sarah's sleeping, you don't have to speak in code."

"God! I want to fuck you, baby. I miss you so much."

You both wanted to give your daughter the best, and now you were in the thick of it and a lot of things just piled on top of each other. You couldn't even remember the last time you had time to yourself or when you had real sex, not a quickie ten minutes before your alarm.

"Take a shower and we'll meet in bed, okay?" you said, turning in his arms and kissing him on the lips.

"Give me ten minutes."

But when Joel came out of the bathroom after twelve minutes, you were lying on the bed, dozing off slightly. You woke up to the feeling that someone was slowly kissing your legs and going higher and higher.

"Joel..." you moaned when you felt his still damp hair on your skin.

"I want you." he mumbled in your ear, and then... yawned.

"Oh, yes. We're so tired, nothing will come of it."

"Baby..."

Lazy, slow kisses were placed on your neck, shoulders and cleavage. Your husband's heated body would really tempt you if you didn't know what state you both were in.

"Maybe you'll just jump on me, baby, huh?" he looked at you pleadingly with his sweet eyes "You like being on top."

"Yeah, but today I'd rather be on the bottom and do the bare minimum."

"Jesus..." he groaned, burying his face in your breasts and inhaling your scent deeply "I'd like to fuck, but I'm not even sure if I'll get hard."

"Poor thing..."

You took his face in your hands and kissed his soft lips. You couldn't even kiss harder. After the warm bath, your bodies had become so lazy that they refused to do anything. Joel was so pleasantly warm, the mattress so comfortable. He didn't seem too keen on any activity either.

"Maybe I should set the watch a little earlier?" you suggested "We'll do it in the morning, before Sarah wakes up."

"My wife is a fucking genius." he sighed and slid off you, lying down next to you "I'll fuck you tomorrow. Be sure of that."

"I am, baby."

You quickly set the alarm on your phone and immediately felt a strong arm pull you to Joel's solid body. A few more slow kisses went to your exposed neck and shoulders.

"I love you. You know that?" he murmured quietly.

"I love you too, Joel." you replied, feeling the bed slowly swallow you.

"Tomorrow we'll fuck..."

"You're damn right."

You fell asleep almost at the same time. But it wasn't the alarm clock that woke you up, but a sweet promise. Something hit you hard and suddenly tore you from your sleep.

"Daddy!"

Your daughter jumped again and threw herself between you and Joel. You heard a muffled groan.

"Jesus, Sarah..."

"Get up, daddy! We're going for ice cream! For ice cream!" she babbled. You rolled onto your back and looked at the girl sitting on Joel's chest. Her small hands ruffled his hair even more.

"Give me a few more minutes, please."

But Sarah took no prisoners, and soon you both had to get out of bed. The strange feeling that you had forgotten something plagued your mind. It wasn't until the alarm on your phone went off that you and Joel looked at each other. He shrugged.

"Maybe next time." he said, winking at you. "Ice cream is much more important, babe."

[skobbeloff]

I was home all day so my brain went places.

I present to you: gradschool human formers au. aka 3 most unsociable grad students (shockwave soundwave and starscream) sharing an off-campus apartment together.

ft. skystar section at bottom.

UPDATE: My friend has decided to drop fire fics on the premise of this au here's the ao3 link!!

oh no. how did this happen?:

Soundwave was the first to find the place having moved out from campus housing after sophomore year. He’d been looking for housing close enough to campus and Rumble & Frenzy’s boarding school to check in on weekends.

Shockwave got in via the department housing board. He applied to sublet a room in the house mid-sophomore year and met Soundwave a total of once (on the porch, in the dark, both of them in silence). They shake hands. No further questions asked. They use a shared Google Calendar, but rarely interact directly unless Shockwave puts something too questionable in the fridge again.

Starscream burned bridges with every other group he tried to live with by junior year:

He argued with someone over whether or not sugar belongs in carbonara (he was right, but cruel).

He stayed up until 4 a.m. with his blender running for “experiments.”

He fought a roommate’s boyfriend in their shared groupchat and responded to an email from the landlord with "perish."

Having dealt with Shockwave, Soundwave said “acceptable”.

And now they’ve been living together for three years.

Character Headcanons: 

shockwave:

Used to be a bioengineering phd candidate

Was a PhD candidate on full scholarship, lost it spectacularly.

Could get A+ on every course, but never hands in work or show up to tests

You never see him, but the stories are legendary. Every year there's a new batch of undergrads whispering about "the guy who boiled sulfur in the lab and melted the fume hood."

Had turned in his research early once. The professor emailed back: “We didn’t assign anything yet?”

ranked nationally for chess, never brings it up.

never joined any clubs or societies.

Was trying to invent regenerative synthetic tissue but also invented a new acid by mistake.

Only goes in the kitchen for dubious reasons.

Has no sleeping schedule. Sometimes gone for 2-3 days a week for no reason. Leaves weird things in the fridge that starscream has conversations with or accidentally puts in his instant noodles when sleep deprived enough. He gets mad when Soundwave asks him to take them out.

Still shows up in the back of random lectures uninvited, takes notes, leaves. He’s still technically squatting in the basement of the science hall. Soundwave might know. Nobody rats him out.

Last Words Before Expulsion: “you wouldn’t get it.”

Listens to white noise that’s literally just distorted screams slowed to 1% speed.

How come he doesn’t move out?: Shockwave has too many specimens in the fridge and doesn’t want to move them.

starscream:

pursuing masters pol sci + physics

Cried over an 96% on an exam he took with a 39°C fever. Screamed at a professor. He got a better grade because the professor was intimidated.

Surprisingly has been on the student council.

Did varsity forensics, but quit towards the end of the second year after having insulted the opposing team after they questioned his sources. Was almost disqualified for dramatic hand gestures. Despite all that, he's just really really good at debate. 

physically active because he expresses himself extremely physically.

Professors either love him or pray for peace. Most of them pray for peace.

The most dramatic person you’ll ever meet at 2AM. Paces around the kitchen like a madman.

Started with chemistry + physics (because “it’s where the real intelligence goes”), nearly combusted from the ego clashing with his chemistry professor. Transferred to political science + physics, but refuses to admit it's because he had a breakdown.

Messy sleep schedule, but usually sleeps at 3-4AM. Throws things if woken up before 10. You’ll find him asleep under the kitchen table more often than his bed. Has very loud theoretical arguments with the microwave.

Can’t cook. Lived off scraps and instant noodles when Soundwave doesn't leave him food.

Often threatens he’d report Shockwave to campus police but never did. Probably once broke into Shockwave’s room because he thought he was dead. 

Gets surprisingly civilised when the conversation steers into science but will get aggravated again if you question him.

Studies extra to impress Skyfire and justify the compliments he gets on his papers. Claims it’s “for domination” (it’s for validation).

Takes up a quarter of Megatron’s office hours just to argue on feedback on his paper each week; they usually end up fighting.

Once submitted a paper in comic sans just to spite Megatron. 

How come he doesn’t move out?: No one else will put up with him the way they do, and he knows.

soundwave:

pursuing masters in Psych (behavioral science? cog sci???) but does music in his free time

He pays the lease. The rent is dirt cheap for the location, but only because he's been there for years and refuses to leave. 

Wanted to pursue music production—he even did a minor, took internships at local studios, and had glowing references. But with Rumble and Frenzy to care for, he pivoted to something more stable. He was in the music club, but never said anything, so no one really knew him.

Soundwave leaves sticky notes with song recs instead of talking.

Has an online alias (maybe SubHarmonic or something vibey i unno) where he drops chillwave/ambient beats and complex rhythm loops.

Extremely lenient to his roommates despite them being horrible roommates. Where else would he find people who don't mind his borderline blackmailing activities?

Does the groceries because Shockwave will buy questionable food and Starscream has no idea how to eat healthy.

Keeps a mental note of Starscream’s exam weeks and will stock the fridge accordingly.

Doesn’t offer to cook, but if Starscream slinks in looking drained and hasn’t eaten, Soundwave just silently pushes a plate of warm food his way. Theoretically, if Shockwave also walks in that way, he would also offer food, but it has never happened.

makes stir-fry with exactly one (1) jalapeño because Starscream is dramatic about spice.

Has a personal hatred for anything that “slaps like a dorm recipe.” He has standards.

Has done a psychology survey to test roommate behavioural loops. He did not tell them they were being studied.

One time made a lo-fi remix of Shockwave muttering "inefficient" and used it as the morning alarm for the entire apartment as a joke.

Ocassionally reads Starscream’s political science papers and agrees with Megatron’s feedback despite knowing that it will lead to Starscream trashing the living room. Knows and respects Megatron out of class.

How come he doesn’t move out?: Soundwave won’t say it, but he trusts them. More than anyone else (apart from family). 

The apartment would fall apart without him. 

additional characters??:

skywarp 

Dropped out of college, joined the military, quit, now works to support starscream and thundercracker.

Security + barback.

scared of rumble and frenzy who once trashed the bar while he was on duty.

Every time starscream yells “I’M GONNA FAIL” in front of him, skywarp chants “fifty one, fifty one” in reference to his lowest score and the only time he failed in highschool just to spite him.

thundercracker:

Undergrad sophomore; lives on uni grounds.

Majoring in theatre, but more into writing and lighting than performing. Wants to write one good, painful, existential stageplay. Might never show anyone.

Leaves half-finished screenplays in the living room. Skywarp reads them all and leaves cryptic sticky notes like “make the fire more symbolic”

Starscream makes fun of him for being a dork until Skywarp pulls out the Starscream with braces pictures.

rumble & frenzy:

Probably bit someone in a campus food court.

Soundwave makes sure they get to school. Handles their doctors, enrollment forms...

Once attended Soundwave’s seminar and live-tweeted it like it was stand-up comedy.

Once programmed the microwave to speak in Morse code for a week. Soundwave was so proud.

Once stole Shockwave’s lab coat and wore it like a three-kid-tall trenchcoat person. They called themselves “Doctor Girthwave.” They almost fooled the admin office.

Once replaced all the textbooks in the lounge with Horrible Histories and Minecraft: Redstone Basics. No one noticed for 4 days.

skyfire:

New TA for physics.

Part time barista at the campus café; quiet, gentle, and terrifyingly tall, wears wireframe glasses and sweaters. 

Gives students stickers; surprisingly good at making abstract theories digestible.

Was president of the book club and still checks their group chats.

Has another roommate that’s just never home (it's wheeljack). 

On his first day, Starscream flirted aggressively at the counter. On his second day, Starscream walks into Advanced Particle Physics II and sees Skyfire at the front, then almost throws himself out a window.

Skyfire is genuinely impressed with Starscream’s early assignments. Leaves little notes like “Strong work” or “Great intuition on the particle decay section.”

For the entirety of the first week, Starscream is flustered and hostile, Skyfire (who didn’t take the hint the previous day) gets increasingly confused and is trying to be professional. The lack of teasing in turn confuses Starscream who starts thinking that Skyfire is mocking him.

Skyfire has a very gentle voice and answers every question with “mmm, interesting.” Starscream interpreted this as sarcasm for the whole two weeks before realising Skyfire is just like that.

After the first two weeks, with Skyfire constantly complimenting Starscream’s work, the relationship eases. Starscream starts showing up to the café again.

There’s a whole skystar section at the bottom…

likes interstellar; listens to the song tracks (might get emotional)

Others:

Optimus

TA in law school, with a focus on civil rights

was in track in undergrad. still hits the gym.

Will calmly explain why someone’s 23-page paper on “why laws are fake” needs better sources.

Will offer tea during his office hours. 

Megatron

Pol sci TA for Revolutionary Movements and the State

also hits the gym, but avoids the same time segment when optimus goes.

Has a Blackboard page with 6,000 words of reading suggestions no one asked for.

Has never used a microphone and doesn’t need to.

Some undergrads quote him unironically and Starscream yells at them every time. 

Sneers at “hard science” elitism after the first few months of meeting Starscream.

Rachet

medschool. need i say more? (he really needs a break.)

Elita

Former International Relations TA

was in varsity track during her undergrad years.

Had a scholarship, carried the uni’s reputation for years. Left after finishing her master’s early to do NGO/humanitarian work. People still bring her up in the IR department.

Wheeljack (I like wheeljack)

undergrad; senior, engineering

Skyfire’s roommate; spends all his time in the lab

Blew up the apartment microwave once, fixed it, and never used it again.

Bumblebee

undergrad; freshman, undecided. 

got too excited and joined too many clubs

Arcee

undergrad; senior, international relations maybe?? idk.

volleyball club

Has punched a fratboy through drywall before.

Jazz

undergrad; junior… im very tempted to say music, but maybe communications…??

Capoeira/ skateboard club

prowl

undergrad; junior, data science + law minor…??

Sends 2am emails that begin with “Per policy 4.2.7c…”

does fencing

apartment fridge sticky notes:

Grocery list by Soundwave

“Don’t microwave ANYTHING that used to be solid and now sloshes.” - soundwave

“Who broke the coffee maker again.” - constantly up, written by different people

“Tell your ferret robot to STOP WATCHING ME SLEEP.” - screamer, in red ink, to Shockwave

"DO NOT TOUCH MY LEFTOVER CURRY I WILL KNOW" - screamer

“Who left the fridge open?” → “Not me” → “Define 'open'.” → “It was Shockwave” → “Wrong.” → “I know it was one of you."

other stuff that i think would be funny:

Despite Soundwave having made a dish washing arrangement, no one follows it. No one ever washes the dishes. Eventually, they settle for using paper plates, before realising no one wanted to take the trash out, either. They saved up to buy a dishwasher.

there was a roommate status spreadsheet. Soundwave got rid of it, having seen Shockwave’s status stay “Presumed Alive” for two weeks in a row and Starscream refusing to update it after four days.

The apartment received a mysterious box labelled “DO NOT OPEN — BIOHAZARD.” Shockwave opened it. It was an Amazon order he placed and forgot about. It was worms.

Engineering vs physics beef is real. it’s not related to any of them i just think it’s funny. 

Law vs Pol Sci beef because megatron and optimus. …idk if this is a real thing.

Megatron and Optimus are both in the grad student union and constantly argue over university budget allocation.

Every few months, Starscream and Shockwave debate some obscure theorem or strange topic until one of them rage-quits the room. Soundwave records these and calls them “The Screech Files.”. 

Starscream and Shockwave once got into a screaming match over whether heat death or nuclear annihilation was a more dignified end. Soundwave was about to suggest them go try it out.

Finals week is stressful

Starscream starts talking to his whiteboard like it’s a person. He names it “Galvatron” or something idk. He claims Galvatron is his academic rival and he must defeat him.

Shockwave emerges from his room for the first time in 96 hours, dragging a three-monitor laptop setup, then back. No one knows why he’s stressed that, since he’s technically expelled.

Weekly lab meetings are intense. Starscream keeps trying to one-up the other students with increasingly aggressive PowerPoint transitions. 

Soundwave drinks coffee despite preferring tea. Starscream drinks whatever has the most caffeine despite being able to run on pure adrenaline. Shockwave drinks Soylent and regrets nothing.

they have monthly pizza nights haha

They share a single mixed pizza (since they fight over flavours) and take two slices each. Sitting in the living room, half-watching reruns of whatever Soundwave chooses (low-volume space documentaries, usually).

Soundwave gets a veggie-loaded one with thin crust. Eats slow and normally.

Starscream refuses to eat anything with a “weird texture” (i.e., mushrooms, olives, pineapples, “whatever the green crap is”). Eats like he’s in a food competition and sulks if no one compliments it.

Shockwave gets hawaiian. 

Starscream will scream if there is a single spec of pineapple on his slices: “OH, OH, IT'S TOUCHING MINE—SOUNDWAVE, DO SOMETHING—”

[Sunday 8:41 PM] Nobel Candidate: Pizza or death Soundwave: In queue. Shockwave: Hawaiian. Nobel Candidate: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU

Ever since Starscream crashed out after passed out on one exam due to having skipped breakfeast and dinner the day before, during Starscream’s exam seasons, Shockwave and Soundwave leave extra food (electrolyte packets in Shockwave’s case) in the fridge. Starscream will bring in snacks after the tests, claiming it’s because he’s used to caring for his two brothers but it’s secretly because his stupid ass doesn’t know how to thank people while sober without throwing himself out the window.

Soundwave got sick once and the entire apartment descended into chaos

Starscream immediately declares he is “more than capable of running this household”. Proceeds to microwave soup in a metal pot.

Rumble and Frenzy come over, see Soundwave swaddled on the couch, and immediately panic. They start raiding his medicine cabinet for “the good stuff.”

Shockwave attempts to synthesise an antiviral but ends up making a mild hallucinogen.

Starscream sits in the living room at 1AM and goes “What if he dies.”

Starscream and Shockwave have definitely ganged up on Soundwave as "real" STEM students. That quickly ended after Soundwave stopped leaving left over food for them to eat.

They occasionally buy science materials together for the discounts. 

Despite being very successful at expirements, it seems none of them cook.

...

additional mandatory skystar section.

Soundwave has been in the campus cafe and he has seen the way Starscream refuses to look up at Skyfire and the way Skyfire lingers behind him, coffee mug in hand and looking at his work. It’s revolting but very amusing. 

Soundwave will leave the conversation if Starscream speaks in a certain tone when he’s about to mention Skyfire.

They have a shared lab mishap—mild explosion. Skyfire laughs first. Starscream laughs after looking at him.

Skyfire: “There’s a planetarium exhibit this weekend. I think you’d like it”. They sit close in the dark. Starscream doesn’t stop talking about stellar wind equations. Skyfire listens, smiling like a fool.

Skyfire makes a habit of bringing Starscream lunch or dinner during long study sessions. Back at the apartment, Shockwave will take the extra portion that Soundwave saved if starscream doesnt eat it. Starscream tried taking back the food Skyfire brought, but after throwing tantrums having found it being eaten the next day a few times, he stops.

Starscream starts having healthier sleeping habits. Soundwave was sitting on the couch as Starscream tiptoes out of the apartment at 6am “because I remembered I left a notebook in lab” (he didn’t).

Skyfire mentions Screamer’s research in his own paper acknowledgements. Starscream reads it, lies on the kitchen floor and refuses to get up. Soundwave walks in, steps over him, makes a smoothie, walks out.

wow i’m writing a lot of skystar what.

Skyfire once handed Starscream a set of keys while they were leaving the physics building: "You’re here a lot. I thought it might be easier if you just… had a key? For access. You know. My apartment is closer to the physics building, so… If you need the fridge. Or the couch. Or… the microwave, in case you need it.” Starscream proceeds to trip on the stairs and accuses the building of structural incompetence.

Wheeljack had no idea that Starscream stays over at their apartment, despite Skyfire telling him “a friend is coming over” nearly everyday, until he ran into him in boxers and a face mask one night. Still doesn’t care.

The entire physics class think they’re dating. Neither of them knows, though. 

Skyfire has attended Starscream’s debates. He doesn’t understand why the political science hall cheers when Starscream rips into someone, but claps anyway. He goes back to his apartment in a daze and ends up rewatching a recorded livestream of the debate while whispering “good point” and fanning himself with a physics textbook.

The house fridge has a note from Skyfire that says “I believe in you :)”Someone drew devil horns and fangs on it. No one will admit who because that would mean Starscream screaming for another 20 minutes.

Skyfire is technically on the physics department’s internal committee. This means he sometimes reads Starscream’s thesis drafts before the official review stage, which may or may not be ethical.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Second Chances

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader

Word Count: 1550

Summary: Feelings have been brewing for a while now. Do you risk your friendship to express your true feelings?

Warnings:  Little angst but mostly fluff. Trope: Best Friends to lovers, Idiots in love & roommates, Activities: Borrowing hoodies/clothes, Quotes: “You’re adorable when you giggle. You’re always so adorable.” & “You’re the most precious thing ever. I will protect you with everything I have.”

A/N: Thank you to @fictional-affairs for the amazing header. Thank you @firefly-graphics for the divider. Thank you to my beta reader @lfnr-blog-blog-blog

Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

The snow was coming down on this quiet afternoon. You were bundled up in Andy’s hoodie, a pair of leggings and warm fuzzy socks. A blanket was draped over your legs and the book you were reading was captivating. Andy was currently making chili to warm you both up on this cold day. 

When you first met Andy he was quiet and kept to himself. He had lost his wife and son in an accident. Between losing his family and job Andy was a lost soul wandering through the world.

Then life gave him an opportunity and he decided to work for a nonprofit organization that helps people who are falsely accused of murder. It just so happens you work for the same organization and team up on cases with him every now and then. What started as coworkers evolved into you becoming best friends for several years now.

Andy had moved in with you over two years ago and became your roommate to help you both save money. You would have thought being best friends with someone who is your coworker and roommate would have failed from the start. Being around someone that much could drive people crazy, but not you and Andy. It was the total opposite.

You both loved spending time together and hanging out. With Andy everything seemed right in the world and now your current problem was you developed feelings for him. How could you stupidly fall for your best friend? There was the fact he was handsome and he had the best personality. He was encouraging, loyal, kind, caring, respectful, and thoughtful. He had many other attributes about him you could list but you would be here forever listing them.

Andy was 6’1, with ocean-like eyes that you could swim in all day long. His body you have felt thanks to cuddling is muscular and firm. Though you have seen him shirtless many times and you thanked the lord for the view.

Then there was you, a woman who refuses to date thanks to a break up you had prior to meeting Andy. It was a bad breakup that found you questioning your self worth. But thanks to Andy you feel confident and comfortable in your own skin. No longer were you questioning yourself. Now you were a strong female who knew what you wanted. But could you tell him the truth about how you felt?

So here you both have been snowed in since yesterday. Thankfully you both have enough food to last this storm and stay safe indoors. You were several chapters into your book when you felt a pair of hands start to rub your neck. Strong hands were gently massaging you and your eyes closed from the feeling. You couldn’t help the groan that left your mouth when he moved into your shoulders.

”For someone who has been reading all morning your shoulders are tense. Is everything okay? ” Andy spoke gently as his hands continued to rub your shoulders. “Also is this my hoodie?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well last night. Tossed and turned most of the night. Nothing a nap after lunch won’t fix. The hoodie used to be yours but I commandeered it.” You tilted your head back and warmly smiled up at him. After a few more rubs of your neck, he patted you on the shoulder.

“Commandeered it my butt. You stole it months ago and I haven't seen it since. Let’s go eat some lunch. It will warm you up in no time.” He smiled at you as you stretched on the couch and got up.

Both of you walked into the spacious kitchen and grabbed a bowl. You put a couple of spoonfuls of chili in your bowl and made your way to the dining room table. As you sat down Andy had made his way to the table, sitting across from you.

As you made small talk with him your eyes wandered across his face from his eyes to his beard to his lips. You licked your lips absentmindedly and went back to eating. The thoughts of him being yours made your heart race. Would being honest ruin what you already have? You had the best roommate and best friend in the world. The thought of losing him made you tense again. Maybe you should keep your feelings to yourself.

You let out a sigh and that had Andy reaching his hand across the table and gently taking your hand. You looked up and your eyes locked onto his soft blue ones. He offered a friendly smile before he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it.

“Sweetheart, something is telling me that you want to talk about something but you’re nervous. You know you can talk to me about anything. I won’t judge you at all.” 

Feeling nervous you look away from him and pull your hand back. You weren’t sure how to start this conversation but you knew Andy was going to be persistent about this.

You stood from the table and grabbed your empty bowl. Putting it on the counter you wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to figure out how to just come out with it.

Andy followed you into the kitchen and set his bowl next to yours. He watched as you bit your lip and stared at him with sadness in your eyes.

“Sweetheart, come here.” He stretched his arms open and waited for you to come to him. Slowly you walked to him and wrapped your arms around him. 

Your head was against his chest as Andy held you close to him. You felt him kiss your forehead and breathe in your scent. 

“You know I will never judge you for what you have to share with me. You mean everything to me.” Andy reassured you and gave you a big hug. 

Pulling away from him reluctantly you grabbed his hand and walked over to the couch. As you sat down Andy slowly sat next to you. 

Andy wouldn’t be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. Something in your expression has changed this morning and he was worried about losing you. He couldn’t help himself with developing feelings for you. If you wanted him to move out he would be crushed because he was in love with you. 

You stared at him for a minute before you took a deep breath and spoke. “I have feelings for you Andy. I have for some time now. I’m in love with you and I can’t keep pretending that I’m not.”

Andy’s eyes go wide with shock. He couldn’t believe what he heard. After all this time of being coworkers, roommates, and best friends who knew you had the same feelings as him. Andy couldn’t help but smile and let out a chuckle. 

You looked at him confused. Why did he just chuckle? Did he think it was a joke to him?

Grabbing your hand Andy intertwined his fingers with yours. Lifting both hands to his face Andy kissed the back of your hand. 

“I promise I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that I have feelings for you too. I didn’t know how to approach you about it cause I didn’t want to ruin what we already had between us. You mean everything to me and make me feel like myself again. Since losing my wife and son years ago I didn’t think I deserved happiness again. But you made me believe in second chances.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head. “Andy, I promise this is for real. I was so afraid of losing you that I kept it to myself this whole time thinking you only saw me as a friend. But knowing you feel the same makes me so happy.”

Andy pulls you into his lap and starts kissing you from your forehead to your cheeks. His beard tickles you and you let out some giggles from the affection he is showing you.

“You’re adorable when you giggle. You’re always so adorable. Everything you do drives me wild.” Andy says affectionately as he kisses you all over your face making you giggle more.

He stops his silly kisses and lightly cups your face then leans in for a kiss on your lips. The kiss is soft and slow. Both of you are testing the waters and grabbing at each other to pull the other closer. This is what you have been waiting for and a soft moan pulls from your lips as you separate.

Andy smiles warmly at you and caresses your cheek. “I want you to know you can always count on me to treat you like the queen you are. You’re the most precious thing ever. I will protect you with everything I have. You will never have to worry about being alone cause I will always be here for you.”

You pull him close again and kiss him on the lips. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Let’s not find out,” Andy whispers to you as he holds you tight. 

You thank the universe for allowing you two to finally express your feelings. You feel that this is going to be the beginning of forever with him.

Taglist:

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@astheskycries

@awesomerextyphoon

@awkwardgiraffe726

@b3autyfuld1sast3r

@caffiend-queen

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@fictional-affairs

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@spectre-posts

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@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

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@what-is-your-plan-today

@wolfsmom1

@yenzys-lucky-charm

[bartyism]

anything for you. theodore nott.

in a universe where voldemort won, you and theo risk everything.

reposted from my old account.

warnings: graphic death

pairing: theodore nott x ron weasley's twin sister!reader

“You can’t possibly love him, y/n. He’s a bloody Death Eater!” your brother had jeered at you. Hot tears ran down your face but you refused to wipe them. You wanted everyone in the room to see how deeply this was hurting you.

“I have never been more sure of something in my life. While you were gone – while everyone was gone – he was the only constant. He isn’t who you think he is.” The room broke out into a chorus of repulsed sounds. The Order of the Phoenix wasn’t much these days, the predominant members being the Weasley family. Harry Potter’s death loomed over everyone. Numerous other deaths piled on: those who died at the beginning of the war, but those who have died recently like your older brothers, Percy and George, and your father, Arthur.

“He thinks we’re scum! He would kill Hermione on the spot. How can you stand there and say this shit?” another brother had chimed in. Voices were starting to overlap the more trapped you felt.

“You’ve never given him or myself the chance to prove that’s not true! If you remember, Theo was the one who told me about everything Draco was doing back in school. He has already given us so much information. He’s climbing the ranks, but he is doing it for us!” you fell to your knees, exhaustion and frustration getting the best of you. “Can’t you see that even if he’s not doing it for all of you, he’s putting his life on the line trying to help secure a world that I feel safe in? You know how my beliefs align!”

“Has he stopped killing innocent people? Does he still partake in Voldemort’s plans that don’t necessarily target us? If he’s climbing the ranks, I can’t begin to imagine what he’s doing to do so,” your mother inquired, shooting daggers at you. You couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“He’s doing what he can to survive, too. If he dies, we will lose so much.” Without missing a beat, you added, “If he dies, I am as good as dead.”

This conversation, over a year old, still rings in your head every time you meet Theo. Your current setup in an old warehouse allowed these thoughts to amplify. The only sounds keeping you from spiraling were the rhythmic tapping of Ron’s foot and Bill’s pacing. You never got to see Theo alone, but that wasn’t a horrible thing.

Though you wanted nothing more than to have one evening alone with him, as selfish as that sounds given the climate of the world right now, the positive came in the form of the people who joined you on these exchanges and started to see through the cracks in Theo’s character. This hardened soldier who bears the Dark Mark turns into someone else in your presence. He is more patient and gentle, as compared to the man that numerous members of the Order have seen slaughter people in cold-bold, just to laugh at their frozen-in-death facial expressions.

You had noticed changes in Theo throughout the last few times you’d seen him. He was much more focused on you than the information they were there to exchange. He’d almost become frantic – dark circles that got darker every time you saw him circled his eyes, and his face had become much more caved in. He was starting to look as though he were actively being tortured. He didn’t look better this time around.

You sprang up from your spot when you heard the metal door grind against the floor, opening quicker than anticipated. Ron and Bill quickly put their wands up and took aim at Theo, refusing to put them down even when you yelled, “It’s just him!” Theo didn’t respond much better, raising his wand and aiming at Bill, who you knew Theo saw as more of a threat than Ron.

“Are you being followed? What made you come in here like that?” Bill growled, eyes flickering between Theo and the entrance. Theo narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“You think I would lead them straight here if I was? If it was just you two, sure. But, I would never do that with her here. Consider yourself lucky,” Theo spit.

“That’s enough. Are you alright?” you stated, briskly walking to your lover. Up close, you noticed faint bruising around his neck, as if he’d been choked. Theo didn’t say anything and instead, kept his eyes locked on the two men standing behind you. “Theo,” you trailed off, putting one hand on his cheek. You searched his eyes for any type of response, but you couldn’t find one.

“You don’t have much time,” he said, only loud enough that Ron and Bill were barely able to hear. You took a slight step back, still close enough that you could hold his hand – the hand that he couldn’t even bring himself to grasp in return.

“What?”

“The Dark Lord knows there’s a mole in his closest circle. He knows you are not dead, despite me telling him you were,” Theo said, finally making eye contact with you. Your mouth fell open and you held his hand tighter.

Theo lost his will to fight at that exact moment, letting his hand holding his wand fall to his side. He pulled you into him and rested his forehead against yours. “He knows you’re the mole?” you whispered.

“Not yet, but I can’t imagine it taking much longer. His eyes are set on Berkshire – thinks he’s gotten scared now that his mother died. I was able to ward him off me for the time being. I told him that I wasn’t the one to kill you, I just saw you get hit with a nasty spell.”

“Come with us before it’s too late, Theo. How many times do I have to beg you? Turn your back on it all. We can keep you protected.” you pleaded, looking back at your brothers for reassurance. Bill shook his head before Ron chose to speak.

“He is not coming back with us. Do you know what kind of target that would place on us? It would be a death sentence,” he spit. “With that Dark Mark, I’m sure Voldemort could summon you back to him at any given second,” he added. You spun around to confront him but Theo was quicker – he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Weasley,” Theo said with such spite behind his words that it made you want to cower away from him. He looked down at you, asking you a silent question. You bit your lip in thought, looking over at your brothers. 

“Could you guys give us a minute to ourselves? Just stand guard at the door.” With a few grumbles, you were able to convince them to leave. As soon as the door shut, you wrapped your arms around Theo as tight as you could, reassuring yourself that he was here with you and still alive. For how much longer he would be alive, no one was certain.

“You can leave them. Even if you don’t take refuge with us, you can escape,” you pleaded. Theo softly shook his head and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“No, y/n, I can’t. I’m bound to him until one of us dies. I…” he trailed off. You frantically started shaking your head at him and he sighed. “We knew this was going to happen.”

“You might have known. I held out hope,” you cried. Theo grabbed your chin gently, using the other hand to wipe away the stray tears. “Promise me you won’t die.”

“Y/n…”

“Promise me, Theo.” 

His response never came. Theo pulled you into him and kissed you so tenderly, that it was beyond out of character for him. You knew this was the end. He softly ran his hands down your sides, over your back, anywhere they could grasp. It felt as though he was trying to remember the exact shape of your body. He eventually tried to pull away, but in return, you softly bit his lip and pulled him back in. 

Theo couldn’t bring himself to let go of you. You were intoxicating in a way that no drug or drink could replicate. Not breaking the kiss, Theo hoisted you onto a table that was just behind you. Laying you down on it, he kept kissing you. Along your jaw, down your neck – Theo kissed you anywhere with an exposed bit of skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying, to which Theo then kissed away your tears. When he was finished, he pulled you up into a sitting position.

“Love, you are the only thing in this short existence of mine that I’ve ever been sure of. When I die, I can die happily because I knew you. I got to love you.” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as he professed to you. You leaned your forehead against him, looking him straight in the eye.

“Try to survive, Theo, please. For me,” you pleaded. Theo nodded briefly but was interrupted by a banging on the door. 

“Hurry up, it’s getting dark. We need to leave,” Bill’s voice called out. Bill and Ron both reappeared in the room, looking at the two of you expectantly.

“We need to leave, and you still haven’t given us what we came for,” Bill sighed. Theo tensed and pulled himself away from you, putting his facade back on as if it were a costume. Part of you wished he didn’t, just so they could see the real him.

“The Dark Lord plans to raid Hogsmeade, again. You need to make sure everyone is evacuated. He doesn’t plan on ever having to raid them again. In two days, if you don’t create a plan, everyone still living there will be dead.”

“And will you be one of the Death Eaters killing those people?” Ron inquired.

“If it means that it keeps me alive, and keeps a steady stream of information coming to you, yes. I have never been unclear with my intentions.” Theo said. He was significantly taller than Ron, forcing the redhead to look up at him as Theo walked closer to him, slowly.

“We don’t have time for this,” Bill said, getting visibly anxious. “We’re leaving,” Bill added, grabbing you and Ron both by the arm. 

Everything happened so fast after that – you reached out for Theo, but he backed away from you and you could’ve sworn you saw a tear run down his face. Just like that, you were whisked away, Bill choosing that moment to apparate. You didn’t get to say goodbye; you didn’t get to tell him you loved him for the last time.

Three days later, after their failed attempt at raiding Hogsmeade, you and your family watched in horror as Voldemort was broadcasting yet another round of executions. This wasn’t the first time this had happened – the first time being with his son, Mattheo, a boy you had known in school. You can’t recall the exact reason for his death, but it set a standard. If Voldemort would kill his child in such ways, what would he do to others?

You held your breath as the camera view panned down the small row of people awaiting their death. You felt the wind get knocked out of you when you caught sight of him.

The boy you loved was there, his eyes already dead. His appearance was, somehow, much worse than when you had last seen him. The bruising around his neck that had almost been healed was now back in full display, accompanied by bruises all over his face. He had blood dried around his mouth and nose, and his left eye was so swollen that it looked completely closed. Something told you that death was merciful compared to what he had been put through.

Voldemort rambled on about the first three men, killing them quickly. His smile never failed, especially when he turned to the last victim: Theo.

“Theodore Nott, what would your father say?” He teased. He pulled a wand out of the box that a servant of his carried at his side. Raising it, you recognized it to be Theo’s. Voldemort snapped it in half, causing a slight flinch to radiate off Theo.

“Stupidly fell in love with a dirty blood traitor, one of those Weasleys. He’s acted as an agent for them this entire time, but of course, I knew from early on. We’ve played a brilliant game of cat and mouse, haven’t we, Nott?” Voldemort, again, laughed. Every muscle in Theo’s body was tensed up and he never lifted his face to look at the crowd that had gathered or the cameras broadcasting the event.

Noticing Theo's aversion to looking at the crowd, Voldemort ran his fingers through Theo's hair before yanking it back, forcing him to look up. Theo grimaced but finally looked straight at the camera. His good eye bore through you, sending your heart straight to the bottom of your stomach.

You started sobbing, sliding off the couch and crawling towards the hologram showing the entire scene. “Please,” you gasped. Hermione sat behind you, pulling you into her, but you fought her off. 

“You were special to me,” Voldemort sighed and raised his wand. You grabbed whatever was closest to you – in this case, a plate someone had been eating off of earlier – and threw it through the hologram. The sound of your sobs and the plate exploding against the wall ricocheted around the hideout.

Another one of your older brothers, Charlie, moved Hermione aside and restrained you. Without doing so, you would’ve hurt yourself or someone else. “Get off me,” you repeatedly screamed, thrashing around on the ground.

Charlie was able to hold you in place on the ground, holding you facedown on the carpet with your arms pinned behind your back. To your horror, you turned your head to the side just in time to see a green light encase Theo in its grip. 

The cry you let out was movie-worthy. Using all of your strength, you burst out of Charlie’s grip and jumped up, turning on your surviving family members. “He died for us. He died for us and our cause. You never gave him a chance and never wanted to offer help in return,” you sobbed. Hermione came back to your side and held you in her arms. 

You didn’t fight back this time. You sat in her arms and sobbed. You couldn’t stop sobbing as you looked back at the hologram and it was panned to Theo’s dead body. It zoomed in on his face as if to hurt you even more. You watched as Voldemort whispered a simple charm, and flames consumed Theo’s body.

“I hope the Weasleys watching this enjoyed the show. While you watched this we have surrounded your hideout. Even Nott’s Occlumency he worked so hard on for you couldn’t keep me out. Perhaps it’s good that you never trusted him with your exact location, or else this would’ve happened long ago.” Voldemort smiled, and the hologram shut off. There was no noise in the room other than your silent sobs. 

Then, the first window exploded.

[marvelfilth]

The Witches Trap

Part 2

Pairing: dark!Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Warnings: ghosts, description of death, paranormal activity, gore, blood, a bit of horror ig, typical ghost hunting stuff, nothing too scary tho

Words: 5.5k

Summary: you go ghost hunting with Peter, Yelena and Kate. What could go wrong?

A/n: first time trying out some spooky stuff, so bear with me. Heavily inspired by Sam and Coby on YT.

Masterlist

The way Yelena drives is far from smooth and sound, but she vehemently refuses to let Peter behind the wheel, so here you are, yelping and griping the sides of the driver's seat headrest like your life depends on it. You hiss when your head meets the roof, and Kate sends you another toothy smile from the front seat, her eyes flickering to look at Yelena every few minutes. You look to your right to check on Peter, but he is busy fumbling with equipment, his camera carefully stored away in a bag as he keeps checking the microphone.

You sigh and relax against the seat when the road finally smoothes out, and think about why you even agreed to this. Peter asked you to tag along for a new video for his YouTube channel, and by asked you mean begged you with his best puppy eyes and a bag of goodies in his hands. Apparently, if you agreed to go, Kate will go too. And if Kate goes, he won't even have to ask Yelena.

He was right.

So now the four of you are on the way to one of the most haunted places of America - Westview hotel.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Yelena asks, turning her head left and right.

"Yes," Peter answers, glancing up for a second.

"Honestly, this is too creepy already," Kate mumbles, her eyes locked on the numerous dolls pinned to the trees surrounding the road.

"The owner probably made someone do that. No way they had this type of dolls back in the eighteenth century." You try to reassure Kate as much as yourself.

"Actually, the first doll like that was made-" Peter finally looks up with an excited glint in his eyes, and you immediately press your palm against his mouth, "No. I don't need to know that."

"Ha! Little Y/n is scared," Yelena laughs, but her laughter is cut short when a twig hits the side window, making her shriek like a maniac.

"This never happened," she grumbles when the laughter finally dies out.

Relaxing against the seat you try to remember everything Peter told you about this hotel.

It got notoriously famous in the late eighties, when a high schooler got possessed by a demon and later died in a psych ward. The room the girl stayed in was closed off for twenty years after that. You wonder if Peter managed to book it.

Another thing you remember is numerous sightings of a dark, cloaked figure appearing in most random places, whether it's a supply closet or a presidential suite. It always managed to scare the shit out of anyone who was unfortunate enough to catch its interest. You shudder at the mere thought of encountering that particular entity.

"We're here," Yelena cuts off the ignition, and leans against the wheel to take a look at the building.

Your breath catches in your throat the second your eyes land on the magnificent hotel. At seven stories high it stands proudly on a hill, overlooking the vast grounds. The facade is noticeably worn, but no less majestic - a blend of dark wood and stone, a balcony stretching along its entire length. A dark figure on the corner of the rooftop makes you squint, and you gasp when you realize it's a gargoyle, albeit a very rickety one. You make a note to yourself not to walk under it.

Yelena ushers you along, shuddering as she notices the stone figures. “The air here is kinda thick,” she mutters.

You nod, feeling your chest tighten. She's right - the air grows heavier with each step you take. You hope the hotel itself is ventilated enough.

When you finally step inside you take a deep breath, looking around the foyer and spotting who you presume is the owner.

"Welcome to Westview Hotel! My name's Agatha, I'm the owner of this happy little place and your guide for today. Hope you have the worst time of your life here!" Her voice is too cheerful for the late hours, and you cringe at the full on villainous laugh she lets out.

Peter goes to speak with the woman while the rest of you look around. Yelena plops on the loveseat, her backpack thrown on the carpeted floor near her feet, and Kate just stands beside you with her mouth hanging open - you're sure you're wearing a similar expression.

While the outside of the hotel looked somewhat old and weathered, the inside completely blows you away with its beauty. It's elegant, if a bit eerie, with a grand chandelier and high arches that make the space feel even bigger.

You frown, sensing someone's eyes on you, and notice Peter glancing in your direction every so often. You send him a questioning look, but he only shakes his head, his lips pressed together and his cheeks puffed.

"Do you think he's going to sacrifice one of us to that witch? Scarlet Witch, right?" Yelena muses.

"Yeah, but I don't think you're her type." Kate winks at the blonde.

You snicker at her annoyed expression, and stumble back, accidentally bumping into someone. You turn around, an apology on your tongue, only to choke on your words when you are met with an empty lobby.

Your friends stare at you quizzically, but Agatha seems to be lost in thought, her eyes trained on the space right above your shoulder, then she slightly shakes her head, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry. I thought I bumped into someone…" You trail off, your back burning, an eerie feeling settling in your stomach.

"Sure thing, buttercup." Agatha winks at you, her mood changed back to normal in an instant.

You shudder, looking back at your friends. Yelena whispers something in Kate's ear that causes the younger one to chuckle, and Peter has his camera pointed at you.

"We already got some paranoid activity ten minutes into the night," he blabbers behind the camera, motioning for you to explain what happened.

"Um... It felt like I bumped into someone?" Talking to a camera is weird, but you manage to explain what you felt. "... I think it was nothing though, just my nerves acting up." You force a chuckle, your eyes moving to meet Agatha's stare.

She moves closer to be in the frame, and tells everyone about how much the Scarlet Witch loves to mess with younger women, her favorite pastime in this hotel seems to be entertaining the ladies. However, her idea of entertainment slightly differs from yours, and you gulp when Agatha mentions her choking sleeping guests and locking them in elevators.

"This is going to be incredible, guys," Peter says to the camera, his excitement too contagious for you to worry about your safety.

×××

The next two hours are spent walking behind Agatha and listening to her stories about various tragic deaths that occured in this hotel over the past hundreds of years. She stops every ten minutes or so in front of different rooms, each story worse than the previous one, and you shudder when she tells you a story of a woman buried alive in one of the walls, Agatha's hand casually resting on said wall.

She is telling you another story about a guy that danced on a ledge to impress a girl and fell on one of the spikes in the lobby, when you suddenly feel a tug in your chest. You stop, checking to see if anyone else felt that. Kate is staring at the ledge with her mouth wide open, Peter's busy filming Agatha and butting in with commentary (much to Agatha's displeasure), and Yelena grips Kate's hand so hard, you are sure she couldn't possibly see anything other than the wall in front of her.

You exhale and look around, trying to spot anything interesting, even though you've been looking at the same set of stairs for the past ten minutes. Strangely enough, you notice a door that surely wasn't there before, because you would've noticed it right away if it was.

While every part of this hotel was renovated, this door looks like it belongs in the past, with heavy iron hinges and a weird looking handle. There are no signs on the door, nor any numbers or words, and when something tugs on your hand, you follow the feeling.

You walk almost in haze, your friends' voices blurred in the background, unfamiliar warmth surrounding you, your chest lighter than it ever was and your mind in a euphoric state. You turn the knob and it gives in, the door rattling loudly as you tug it open, but before you could even glimpse inside, a hand slaps harshly on the wood, the door closing with a loud creak.

You blink owlishly, warmth gone and your head suddenly clear, as you take in Agatha's furious expression.

"It says 'Employees only'," she hisses through gritted teeth, and you step away from the woman.

"No, it doesn't, there's noth-" you choke on your words when you look back at the door, because now it looks like every other door in the room, 'Employees only' written in bold.

You look back at Agatha and apologize, but it seems like she doesn't hear you, her brows furrowed and her eyes flickering between you and the door.

"Okay that's hella creepy," Kate breaks the silence, her unoccupied hand digging in a pocket of her jeans to present a cross. "God will protect us." She puts it around her neck, and nods to herself.

"You don't even believe in God." Yelena jams her in the ribs, not letting go of the brunette's hand.

"You really should," Agatha casually advises, tugging at your elbow to move you further away from the door, "follow me, I'm going to tell you the story of the Scarlet Witch."

You cast one last look at the door and follow her down the hall to the very last room, something warm pressing at the low of your back to lead you. Shuddering at the feeling, you wonder why it is only you who feels something weird. Kate keeps sending you worried looks, but, other than that, she seems okay with Yelena's hand pressed firmly into her side. Peter isn't fazed at all, excitingly recording everything in sight.

Exhaling, you try to relax. If something here wants to harm you it wouldn't use such a gentle approach.

Or maybe it's just luring you in.

When you finally stop in front of room number 208 you feel a poke in your ribs, Yelena nods her head for you to look at Agatha, and you confusedly look up. Apparently, she wants you to open the door. Gulping, you move forward, your hand reaching on its own accord. You turn the doorknob with some hesitation, your hand trembling slightly. When you're met with a sight of a regular hotel room, you let out a quiet breath.

The walls are painted an unassuming beige, with green and brown accents, the earth tones bringing a feeling of calm. The four poster bed is pushed against the farthest wall, with nightstands on either side, and you could already imagine how soft it would feel to sleep in it. But the only thing that truly gets your attention is a floor to ceiling window and a french door, which hopefully leads to a balcony you spotted from the outside.

Agatha walks past you into the room, resting her weight against the foot of the bed. "It was locked," her eyes seem to be glued to yours as she speaks, "second locked door you opened today. I find that… interesting."

You are aware of Peter's camera being shoved right in your face, you're aware of Kate's hand reassuringly clasping your own, aware of Yelena's calming presence, but you are focused on something else entirely. There is this feeling again, now familiar warmth taking root in your chest, almost singing to you. You briefly close your eyes, savoring the sensation, wishing you could feel more.

"This is our most active room," Agatha says, "last year some teenagers decided to use a Ouija board in here and it got even worse. So you're in for a wild ride."

"This is nuts," Kate says from the other side of the room, trailing her hand over the painting of a burning witch.

"Oh, this actually happened here," Agatha drawls, taking note of your surprised faces, "almost a hundred young alleged witches were burnt at the stake here, on these grounds…" Agatha continues on with the story, but your eyes are stuck on Kate, on the other side of the room, your body frozen in shock. You can still feel what you thought was Kate's hand on your own, but with her standing on the other side of the room, and Yelena looking at you like you've grown two heads, you decide it's enough.

"Can you tell them to stop?" you shriek, stepping further into the room.

The warm feeling in your chest intensifies, the ghost of a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your cheek, turning your head to look at the painting. It's so gentle, so soft, it makes you lean your head in search of more.

"Them?" Agatha's voice grounds you. "I believe there's only one witch who is interested in you."

"What's going on?" Kate asks, moving away from the painting. Panic starts to rise in your chest, making you struggle to breathe. "Y/n, are you okay?" Kate's by your side in an instant, hands rubbing your sides, and you lay your head on her shoulder, silently reminding yourself that no ghost can hurt you.

"I thought you were standing beside me, I felt you take my hand, but you were on the other side of the room," you whisper against her shoulder.

"No. We're going back home." Yelena pales and tugs at your elbow, smacking the back of Peter's head with her other arm. "Your idiotic idea is going to give her a heart attack," she hisses and leads you to the door, hurriedly turning the knob.

It doesn't turn.

"What the fuck." She tries to open it again, and again, and again, until Agatha gets pissed and yells at her for trying to break the door.

"If she wants you to stay, you'll stay." She places her palm on the wooden door, and gives everyone a stern look.

"Say the word and I'll break that door open." Peter reappears by your side, looking guilty as ever, his camera now hidden away.

You take a deep breath and look around, now feeling much safer with all of your friends (and Agatha) by your side. The room looks like no one has touched it in years, and the warm, calming feeling in your chest only intensified after your little break down.

Maybe the witch just wants some company.

You meet Peter's eyes and manage a smile. "I survived Yelena's driving, I'm sure I'll be fine after this."

"Are you sure?" Yelena and Peter ask you at the same time.

"Yes, guys, I'm fine. I'm just not used to it like you are," you smile at Peter, and he nods in understanding.

He spent his college years filming in haunted places, a little hobby turned into a full time job as his channel grew bigger and bigger. Usually he invites his friend Wade to film together, but this time he really wanted you to come.

"Glad we settled that. Now sit," Agatha commands.

You take a seat on the bed, Yelena and Kate immediately placing their arms around you. Peter settles in a comfortable looking chair by the window, and Agatha stays standing, clearing her throat before venturing into the story of the Scarlet Witch.

"I'm sure you know that being a redhead, green-eyed, and exceptionally smart young woman in the 17th century meant one thing."

"Barbecue," Yelena mumbles, earning a scathing glare from the older woman.

"Yes. But here's the thing - the Scarlet Witch was never burned at the stake, and not because she was so good at staying hidden, but because she has never had a physical presence in this world, at least one that we know of. There's no proof of her existence, no paintings and no pictures, no sightings either."

Yelena shifts beside you. "Then how do you even know-"

Agatha cuts her off with another scathing glare, before continuing on. "We know because every single one of these poor women cried out her name before their inevitable death. They begged her to save them, but she never did."

"That still doesn't-"

"For the love of god, just shut up and let me finish!" The older woman shrieks, throwing her hands in the air. Momentarily closing her eyes, she clenches her jaw. "She never saved any of these poor girls, feeding on their fear, anger and desperation. She enjoyed what was happening. Hell, she spurged it on, manipulating minds, changing people until they became unrecognizable, and after this hotel was built she took charge, driving owners and residents away, leading people to their inevitable death, and lately possessing unsuspecting women. All of those poor people had one thing to say - 'it was the Scarlet Witch'." She shifts on her feet, turning to look out the window. "Hundreds of years of terror, but there was one good thing she's done. There was a particularly nasty witch trial, the poor girl was accused of seducing a priest's daughter. Imagine the horrors she was bound to be faced with if they got their hands on her. They never did, she escaped their clutches, and every single man involved in the hunt on the girl was brutally murdered. The girl died of old age in the safety of her own home, forever protected by the magic of the Scarlet Witch." Suddenly, her eyes lock on yours. "There's no trace of the Scarlet Witch, but there's a painting of the woman she saved. I'd show it to you, but for you it'll be the same as looking in a mirror, so I'll save myself the trouble."

Peter suddenly sits up straighter, nodding along to Agatha's words.

Kate slides her hand away from your shoulders. "Don't want to make her jealous or anything," she whispers, looking around.

"Do you say this to everyone or..?" You hesitantly speak up.

Her eyes turn serious, causing a chill to run down your spine. "Oh no, buttercup, you're a spitting image of the only woman she deemed worthy enough to save."

"She's not lying," Peter says, "that's actually the reason why I asked you to come." He sends you a sheepish smile, and shows you a picture on his phone. It's an old painting, weathered by time, but undoubtedly beautiful.

The woman looks just like you.

You gulp, your heart hammering in your chest. "Well, I'm not her."

"Maybe not. It's not like it matters." Agatha mumbles, standing up, a faraway look in her eyes. "She must've had her reasons to save the poor girl, and I suspect they were far from noble. Be careful." She looks at you one last time before turning to Peter. "Well, it's been fun entertaining you, but it's nearing midnight, so I'll leave you to your ghost hunting, or whatever it is that you're doing." Her lips purse at the numerous cameras Peter's unloaded from his bag.

"Wait!" You jump up, stalling Agatha. "How do you even know about what happened at the trials? Is there some kind of document?" You're aware of the absurdity of your questions, after all you are the one who experienced all of the activity so far, and while some of it could be blamed on your nerves or your brain playing tricks on you, the door accident still burns at the back of your mind.

"You don't believe me?" Agatha smirks, making you shift uncomfortably. "Don't worry, you'll see, you have a long night ahead." She sends you one last look, and easily opens the door before disappearing behind it.

You fall back on the duvet, pressing your palms against your face. The past hour puts an uncomfortable weight on your chest, and you struggle to wrap your mind around the fact that you're probably going to be targeted even more as the night goes on, either by your terrified, overly anxious mind, or the Scarlet Witch.

The warm feeling you felt when you first stepped into the room slowly disappeared, leaving you to wonder if it's done its job in luring you in.

"Okay, it's time to-"

"We're not using a Ouija board."

"- light up some candles." Peter says, looking quizzically at Yelena. "I'm not stupid, you know." He huffs, rolling his eyes.

You snort, shaking your head at your friends' antics. "Why do we need candles?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "To communicate with ghosts."

"Don't you have some fancy tech for that?"

"I prefer to keep it simple," he shrugs.

You share a look with Yelena. "And we'll be left talking to the AC," you mumble loud enough for Peter to hear and send you a middle finger.

"There's no AC in this room. Some people use flashlights, but I prefer candles. We'll also use a spirit box."

"We're not catching any spirits in a box, right?" You sit up, eyes darting between your friends.

Peter sighs and goes on a rant about his tools, explaining how everything works. To your great relief, you won't have to catch anyone, just put on a blindfold, some noise canceling headphones, and let some spirit talk though one of you.

"Sounds fun," Kate gulps.

"I'm not doing that." You shake your head, crossing your arms.

Peter looks up from the floor, where he adjusts the rem pod, the piece of equipment going off when he touches it with a tip of his finger, calibrating the sensitivity. "Yelena will do that."

It's almost comical how far Yelena's jaw falls. "And why is that, Parker? Why don't you let some spirit use you as a radio?"

"Um… my tarot reader told me you'll do best out of all of us."

Kate starts cackling like a maniac, clutching her stomach and bending over. You can't help laughing either, burrowing your face into the pillow to keep quiet.

Yelena continues arguing with Peter, and you decide to leave them to it and satisfy your curiosity. You smile at the questioning smile Kate sends you, and gesture to the balcony door.

You were right, it is the balcony you saw from the outside, stretching all the way to the other side of the hotel. You sigh and lean against the railing, taking in the view. If you thought it looked terrifying on the way here, it looks even worse from high up. Moonlight shines on crooked trees surrounding the land around the hotel, dark and menacing, broken branches hanging on the last threads. There is a well within walking distance, not too far away from where you parked the car. You swear to yourself you won't let Peter drag you over there, it looks way too creepy.

You finally relax, letting your eyes fall shut for a second, but a blurry movement to your left forced them open. You grip the railing, squinting.

Nothing.

"What the fuck." Kate's voice sounds from the inside, and you rush back just in time to see her exit the adjoined bathroom, snapping the door shut with a terrified look on her face. "No. Oh fuck no. Oh no, no, no."

Peter sits up, alarmed. "What is it?"

"There's blood on the mirror," she whispers, her hands shaking violently, "and in the tub, and on the floor."

Peter immediately gets up, taking the only camera that's been filming the whole time with him. You follow your friend, not paying attention to your shaking hands and your hammering heart.

When the door opens you see a pristine bathroom, so clean it's almost mocking. He inspects every corner from every possible angle, only to come up short.

"Guys?" Kate calls out from behind the door. "Are you good?"

"There's nothing he-" you freeze mid sentence when your eyes land on the mirror.

It's fogged up, one word clearly written.

Your name.

You reach out - not of your own violation, your hand guided by some unseen force - and touch the reflective glass right where your name is. You're hit with a vision, bits and pieces of what feels like distant memory escaping the prison your mind put them in.

You see a wrinkled face of an old man, his expression pure disgust as he spews something right in your face. The scene changes abruptly, and now you're in a dark cell, with only the moon to keep you company. Your heart clenches at the pure anguish you're hit with, the desperation drowning you, leaving you no room to breathe. There's a sudden blur, and everything turns blinding white, and then… you feel that warmth again. A woman stands in front of you, reaching out, her eyes glinting red. She looks ethereal, her skin pale, almost sheer, her unruly hair pushed back by a red tiara. You gulp, feeling the power radiating from her, chest aching with the need to submit to it.

You stumble away from the mirror. There's no warmth in your chest now, only pure, unconcealed dread. You lean against the door, palms pressed to your face. Peter doesn't dare breathe, his hands only shaking slightly as he makes sure to get it in the frame.

"Where did you just go?" He whispers, not daring to speak any louder.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. "Tell me you did this. Tell me it's a prank."

He looks at you, eyes full of fear. He bites on his lower lip, eyes wide. "I did this. I totally did this." He nods rapidly, ushering you out of the room.

Kate and Yelena wait on the other side, each holding a candelabra. You don't even bother to ask where they found them, heading straight to the balcony for a breath of fresh air while Peter explains what happened.

You look at the full moon, rubbing your chest in tight circles.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Again, and again.

The floorboards of the balcony creak, along with the railing, and you wonder if it's all gonna fall to the ground, and bury you in a mess of wood and cement. Maybe that's what the witch wants - for you to stay here forever.

You feel the remains of that need, that hunger for the witch. You long to see her again, even if it's just a glimpse, a whiff of her presence.

When you come back, the lights are off, and Peter is already asking questions, Yelena's terrified expression telling you everything you need to know about the answers they've been provided with.

The candle on the nightstand goes out, and Peter blinks, looking at you. "Weird."

"What?" You ask, looking around, hair on the nape of your neck standing up.

"He asked the ghosts if they wanted us to leave." Kate answers.

"That means they do." Yelena points at the candle.

You shiver, a breeze from the balcony making you curl in on yourself, eyes flickering to every dark corner of the room, flinching whenever you see shadows from the moonlight that look a little too ominous.

Someone is watching you, you're sure. A part of you hopes it's her.

"And why is that weird?" You ask Peter, watching as he collects the candles. You sigh in relief, glad to have missed the conversation.

"I thought they liked us - you - at least," he mumbles.

"Maybe they want us gone so the witch can have some alone time with Y/n." Yelena's brows jump up and down suggestively, and you can't help, but laugh, some of the tension finally seeping away.

That is, until the last candle on the nightstand lights up again, completely on its own.

Peter staggers back, dropping the stack in his hands. "No fucking way," he whispers, "that never happened before."

He pulls back to check the camera, making sure it's still recording.

"That's a yes, right?" Kate gulps, looking at you with wide eyes. "She wants you wants you. It's not a coincidence."

You take a seat on the rocking chair in the corner and close your eyes, reminding yourself that nothing here could ever hurt you. It doesn't really work when you still feel eyes on you. Your hands tremble, and your legs feel too heavy to stand on. Every sound is amplified, your senses going into overdrive, so when a clock stops ticking, you immediately notice.

The clock reads 12:08, the hands still for a moment, before resuming their course.

You're slowly starting to wish you never agreed to come to this place.

Agatha's words ring in your head. What if the witch thinks you're that poor girl? That'll explain the witches' interest in you. Maybe she made you see those visions to help you remember.

But… What if it's not even her that's been following you? What if it's one of the dark entities Agatha told you about? The thought makes you even more uncomfortable - you'd prefer the Scarlet Witch to haunt you instead of some dark, trapped soul, no matter how absurd it sounds.

"Hey," Kate approaches you.

You blink, and offer her a hesitant smile. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" She bites on her lip, her hands on your knees.

You nod, and take her hands in yours. "I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

She sighs heavily, head falling to rest on your lap. "Same," she mumbles, "I feel like a prey."

You rub her shoulders, hoping to ease some of her tension. "We'll be out of here in the morning."

She looks up, smiling. "Actually, we're not sleeping here. Peter said we'll try to talk to them one last time and then go."

You hum, wondering why the information makes you feel worse. Shouldn't you be relieved to leave earlier?

"Okay, come here," Peter calls, putting noise canceling headphones on Yelena's head.

Kate jumps up, her eyes lightening up at the sight of Yelena sitting rigidly on the chair, a blindfold and headphones in place. "Oh, this is gonna be good," she smiles, settling in front of the blonde.

Peter looks at you. "I think you should ask the questions."

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. You think of something appropriate to ask - something that would reveal information without offending any of the spirits here.

"Are we here alone?" You ask, and everyone turns to look at Yelena, awaiting an answer.

Yelena's head bobs up and down, like she's listening to her favorite song, but you know for sure it's just white noise.

"Hello," Yelena says, smiling slightly.

Not alone, then.

You nod, and Peter gestures for you to continue.

"My name is Y/n, what is your name?"

It's quiet for a little while, occasional squeaks from the balcony making you jump up and look around.

When Yelena doesn't answer, Peter decides to speak up. "Did you follow us here from the lobby? Was it you-"

"Shut up," Yelena barks.

Kate stumbles back on the floor, and settles against the foot of the bed. "Oh fuck."

Peter takes a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry." He nods at you, urging you to continue.

"Do you not like him?" You ask.

"In… in the way…" her voice is unsure as she trails off.

"Peter's in the way? In the way of what?" Kate speaks up, looking at you.

"Deal," the blonde whispers, "owe."

Peter frowns. "You made a deal and you owe someone?"

Yelena purses her lips, tilting her head to the side like she can't quite figure out what is being said.

The bathroom door slowly creaks open.

"Are you in the bathroom?" Kate's voice shakes, and you take her hand, shuffling closer to the girl.

"Blood."

You exhale, looking at the open doorway with wide eyes.

Kate nods rapidly, her hand trembling. "There was a lot of blood. You scared the shit out of me."

Yelena chuckles, "Feed."

So whatever is here has been feeding on your fear.

"Who are you?" You ask again.

"You know," Yelena replies. "You all do."

"What's behind that door?" You have the strongest urge to go back there.

Yelena chuckles, shaking her head. “Go see for yourself.”

Light starts flickering, tears spring to your eyes, and you fight the urge to curl into a ball and cry. Yelena turns her head and sits up, leanings towards you.

"You forgot."

"Forgot about what?" You shudder, eyes darting between the door and Yelena.

"Our deal."

Peter darts to the other side of the room and snaps the door to the bathroom shut, his mouth set in a flat line. "We're leaving."

"She can't," Yelena singsongs.

"There's no deal. You're mistaken," Peter snaps, collecting the equipment.

"What deal?" You hesitantly ask.

Lightning strikes outside, a loud boom of thunder following. The painting of the burning witch falls.

"I own y-"

Peter tugs off the headphones, Yelena's mouth snaps shut. She tugs off the blindfold and blinks, brows set in confusion. "Are we gonna start any time soon?"

Kate groans, falling face first to the floor. "Fuck my life."

_______________________

Before you yell at me - yes, there will be a part two

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty-Seven

The fallout from Silco's most recent stunt sends shockwaves through the Haven... but not as much as his latest attempt to ensnare you.

Ongoing Silco x fem!reader fic (no reader description, no use of 'Y/N')

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5,900

Warnings: Drug mentions, mentions of addiction and relapse, mentions of poisoning, innuendo, unprotected sex, restraints, emotional conversations, references to Silco's operations in Arcane Season One

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

The fallout from Silco’s stunt kept the Haven occupied for almost a month. 

Not only had he leaked Shimmer into the streets, he had ordered his distributors to offer it at one-third the usual price. Anyone who wasn’t fully recovered had been unable to refuse an offer like that, and the patient relapses you’d seen in the neighborhood had numbered in the triple digits.

The only thing that had kept you going was that the neighborhood had poured out support for the Haven. Jazper and Ronid had come by with two additional doctors, hired temporarily to help assist with the recovery efforts. The other members of the Undercity Innovation Committee had donated other things: enough food to support the Haven without sparing volunteers for kitchen duty, free electrical and maintenance work, help writing grant proposals, and some extra donation money. 

Even people who had nothing to do with governing the Undercity had reached out to support the Haven, doing everything from clearing rubble from the entrance to guarding the building at night. 

It was humbling, and you worked around the clock to take care of everyone who had chosen to keep fighting their addiction. 

Fortunately for both the Haven and the struggles of its patients, Silco’s Shimmer sale seemed to have been an isolated incident. The dealers had been pulled from the area and no one had seen them since that fateful night. It didn’t speed the recovery of the people who had been impacted, but it helped reduce the number of people who came in needing help. 

An unexpected downside to Silco’s new, self-imposed business limitations was that he was doing his best to start communicating with you again. 

Every day, you found a letter waiting outside of your door. More often than not, you found a different letter waiting on your desk at the end of the day. You had briefly started avoiding your office, but the envelopes appeared on your pillow. 

No matter how many people you asked, no one admitted to delivering letters for Silco. Clearly, he had someone at the Haven who was willing to do some work on his behalf. The problem was that you had no idea how to figure out who it was. There were more unfamiliar faces in the Haven than familiar ones, these days, and it wasn’t as if you could start turning people away on suspicion that they were working for the head Chem Baron himself. 

You suspected that Silco wanted to meet. It was only a suspicion, since you refused to read any of the letters. You didn’t know who was delivering them, so it wasn’t as if you could send them back to him unopened to make your point. You settled for burning them, leaving enough for whoever was sneaking into your office to see that you had never opened a single envelope.

But at last, the number of patients began to dwindle. Having beaten their Shimmer addictions back for the moment, people left the Haven. Some of them came back to work with other patients or to volunteer on a more permanent basis. That helped, but you were still relieved when the number of patients from the surprise Shimmer release returned to the single digits. 

The day your borrowed doctors left the Haven was the day you finally relaxed. The remainder of the patients were in the final stages of their withdrawal and actively working toward recovery. Things were wrapping up nicely, but there was also the benefit of having fewer people in the Haven who could be delivering Silco’s letters. 

And yes, you did feel bad about counting that as a benefit. 

You stopped by your office that night, tired almost beyond reason. Perhaps that was the reason you were filled with near-rage at the sight of the envelope on your desk. 

You snatched it up from the desk, but your hands refused to obey your commands from there. Instead of flinging it into the fireplace, they ripped it open and pulled the page free. Silco’s angular writing was difficult to read in the shivering light of the fire, but you managed. 

My dearest philanthropist, 

I would say that I have given up all hope of you reading my letters, but I know two things: firstly, that you are insatiably curious. If you were not, I believe our association would not have lasted nearly so long as it has. 

Secondly, and more importantly, you know that I would not reach out idly. Surely you know me well enough by now to suspect that I would make an offer. 

Of course, you would have recognized far earlier than this that I was interested in bargaining with you, but it has been reported to me that you have yet to open a single one of my letters. 

Before I propose any further deals, I will assume you are still upset about your lost opportunity to work for Piltover. Have you not yet realized that I acted as I did as a favor to you? Piltover has never worked toward any ends that did not benefit them directly. It is likely that they would have positioned you as a scapegoat when their task force failed… and it would have. 

In any case, you would have lost your reputation in the Undercity as surely as you believe it has suffered across the river. The recovery of a reputation in Zaun is a far longer and more arduous process than it is in Piltover. 

I find myself rambling in this letter, and I blame you. With no guarantee of when you will finally open one of my messages, I am forced to write from somewhere softer than my mind. Perhaps not my heart, but somewhere nearer its vicinity than I am accustomed. 

Allow me to make my offer before this letter grows still longer: come to The Last Drop. I want to discuss terms with you face-to-face. For my end of the deal, I will vow to keep Shimmer from ever entering the Haven’s neighborhood again. You can decide what you are willing to give in exchange. 

I hope to see you soon, sweetheart.

- Silco 

You stared at the page long after you had finished reading. You didn’t trust Silco’s offer - not in the slightest. But if there was a chance you could keep Shimmer off of the streets permanently, wouldn’t you be far more foolish not to look into it? 

That was what had gotten you into this mess, and the one before it, and the one before that, but what was your alternative? If there was any hope you could help someone, how could you refuse to take the risk? Even if you were the one who would suffer if that hope turned out to be false. 

You didn’t burn the envelope. Not because you were tired, or feeling sentimental. If you were going to show up at The Last Drop, you were going to make sure Silco knew you were coming. Whoever was leaving the envelopes had clearly told him that they were going unread. With any luck, they would report back to him that you had read this one. 

Silco would know what it meant. 

You slept soundly that night, dreams held at bay for the first time in well over a week. The plan had been formulated, and there was nothing left to do until the following day. 

Just after ten the next morning, you left the Haven. Okkan had wanted to come with you, but you had assured him and Fletcher that you were fine. Yi was sleeping after her late guard shift; she would have been much more difficult to convince. 

The Lanes were quiet, as they always were in the morning. In the weak midmorning light, you could almost consider them peaceful. Fortunately, you also weren’t stupid, so you kept your guard up to avoid any enterprising and motivated pickpockets deciding to practice their craft first-thing in the morning. 

The door to The Last Drop was unlocked, and you let yourself in without a fuss. If the unlocked door hadn’t convinced you that Silco knew you were coming, the sight of the main bar would have. 

The mismatched tables and chairs that typically filled the space in front of the bar had been cleared away. Instead, there was a small table draped with a white tablecloth and topped with a small flower arrangement. Chairs sat on either side of the table, angled so that neither had its back to the main door. 

“Good morning,” Silco greeted, walking around the bar. 

He looked incredibly… domestic. His sleeves were rolled up so he could carry a silver tray with a cover on it. You watched dumbly as he set the tray on the table, worried for a moment that it would hold a severed head or something equally horrifying, but he removed the cover to reveal breakfast. 

The plates, both bearing your favorite breakfast - when had he found that out? - were placed in front of either seat, while a smaller dish of pastries ended up beside the flowers. Silco tucked the tray and the cover behind the bar and rejoined you.

“Do not worry,” he told you with a smile. “I remember that you do not trust the food I offer you. You choose your preferred seat and I will gladly sample everything first so you know it is trustworthy.” 

You frowned for a moment, wracking your mind for what he could be talking about. At last, a shadowy memory appeared, one in which you were waiting for your first meeting with Silco. You hadn’t touched the food he had sent out for you. Apparently, he was determined that the same thing wouldn’t happen again. 

You took a seat, watching as Silco sat opposite you. He cut a bite of food, checking to be sure that you were watching him. 

“You don’t need to do that,” you told him quietly. He paused, eyes searching your face intently. “If you were going to kill me, you would just kill me. Poison isn’t really your style.” 

Silco’s smile faded. “I would prefer that you trust me because I have proven myself trustworthy, but I suppose that is a point well-made. Poison has never been a favorite tool of mine, and never one I would deploy against you.” 

You hummed skeptically and took a bite of your breakfast without further comment. 

“If I may,” Silco said, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you, “what drove you to open one of my letters?” 

You pondered the question, taking a sip of water before offering your answer. “I’m not really sure. Maybe I just hoped you had something worthwhile to say.” 

Silco’s polite smile turned to something sharper. “And I assume, from your presence here, that you were satisfied?” 

The way he purred ‘satisfied’ wreaked havoc on your body, not least because your psyche had decided that now was the perfect time to play back all of the hyper-realistic dreams you’d had about him over the past month. 

With any luck, none of that was showing on your face. “Maybe I’m just curious to see what price you plan to ask in exchange for keeping Shimmer off of the streets.” 

Silco’s face grew serious once more. “I meant what I wrote. You name what you are willing to give for it.” 

“Last time, you had a specific price in mind,” you remarked, half-hoping for another smirk. 

Silco didn’t take the bait. “I mean for this to be a negotiation, one taking place between two equal parties. You name your offer and I will decide if it is fair.” 

A distinct throb between your thighs let you know that your libido would be thrilled to make the same deal as you had last time. Your brain warned that it was a bad idea, but that voice was growing steadily quieter under the flood of lust surging through your body.

It would be easier, you realized, if Silco just wanted your body. If you could narrow down what he wanted to something as simple and limited as the option to fuck you a few times a month. 

But in the light of your newly realized feelings, you couldn't ignore that he hadn't done that. Silco hadn't given any hint of what he might want from you, but he also hadn't limited you to making offers based on physical pleasure. 

It was so much worse. You would rather keep yourself from having any hope at all rather than risk everything for the slim possibility that he felt a shadow of what you did. 

You set your fork down, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You had come here for a purpose - to keep Shimmer away from the Haven. It didn't matter if doing that meant denying yourself. You were used to that. The important thing was helping people. That was all that had ever been important. 

“If we want this to be a business discussion, maybe we should go to your office,” you suggested. Silco watched you blankly, and you expanded, “I've seen you do quite a bit of business and none of it ever happened in an empty bar.”

“Would you care to finish your breakfast first?” Silco asked. 

Your stomach was right with nerves, with fear that you wouldn't be able to come to an agreement with him. Even the few bites you had taken were sitting heavily. 

You shook your head. “Not unless you need the time to finish yours.” 

Silco stood immediately. “Unnecessary. Follow me.” 

You were amused despite yourself as you followed Silco to his office. It wasn't as if you hadn't been there before - you knew the way. But if he wanted to lead, there was something more to it. Maybe he just wanted to prove that he was willing to have you at his back. 

Silco’s office was precisely the same as it had been the last time you were there. The desk spoke of the messy mind and busy life of someone doing his best to rule a city. The wicked-looking lance he used for his eye was kept carefully behind the desk, but it was softened slightly by the neon doodles on the handle. The furniture was just as austere as ever, though it was less intimidating when you could vividly remember every time you had been sprawled naked across each surface. 

Somehow, it felt like home, and that made your stomach tighten reflexively with nerves.

Silco sat behind his desk, motioning for you to sit across from him. When you did, he folded his hands on the desk’s surface, fixing you with a mismatched stare. “If you prefer to get straight to business, let us do so. What are you willing to give me in exchange for the Haven’s neighborhood remaining free of Shimmer?” 

You smiled mirthlessly. “I have nothing you want.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far, my dear,” Silco said, openly admiring you. 

The exchange was familiar, a faint echo of the conversation that had started you both on this path. There was a gleam in Silco’s eyes, a fond reminiscence that made you want to smile at him in earnest. 

But you gathered your willpower and shook your head. “We can’t make that deal again, remember? When you came to the Haven last month, you said that was the only chance to resume our original deal. I turned you down.”

“I could be persuaded to make an exception.” 

You arched a brow. “Really? This would be the first time I’ve ever seen it. Why?” 

“I miss you,” he admitted openly. When you frowned, he leaned toward you. “No lies or manipulations - I have missed you. I have felt your absence every day since we ended our meetings.”

“You missed me, so you released Shimmer outside of the Haven?” you asked, wincing at the open hurt in your voice. “You missed me so badly that the only thing you could do was try to destroy everything I’ve worked toward for the past few years of my life?” 

“I had to-” Silco broke off with a rueful laugh. “I had to give you a reason to come back to me.” 

You gaped. “So you-?” 

Silco raised his hand, cutting off your protestations. “No, pet, let me say this. I need to, and I need you to listen. And if you still hate me afterward, I will let you live in peace. No more Shimmer and no more contact with me, I give you my word.” 

After a moment of consideration, you sat back in your chair and motioned for him to continue. 

With a deep breath, he did. “I know you have no need for me. Everything I provided for you, you are well capable of getting for yourself. You have managed without my security team, you found support for your Haven that has nothing to do with my donations, and you stood against Shimmer sales in the area. You have built a fine enterprise. I- I have nothing to offer you anymore.”

“So I had to resort to underhanded dealings.” Silco shook his head with a rueful little smile. “Perhaps you do not realize how well the Haven withstood my Shimmer. I pulled my dealers, but they were far less profitable than I had expected. I would have withdrawn them regardless. I did regret my actions, but they were born of desperation. You wouldn’t agree to a new deal, and I realized how capable you are even without assistance from me. ”

Silco pressed his hands against the desk’s surface, making grim eye contact with you. “I hoped that I could push you into answering me. More than that, I hoped to force you into making another deal with me, into seeing that you could not survive down here without my protection. I was wrong. You have made a place for yourself here and - more importantly - you have found a way to care for the people of Zaun. I see what you have done to change and shape their lives and it has forced me to accept what I have known for months: I am yours.” 

The kind thing would be to say something in reply to that revelation. You wanted to, but it was so far from anything you had expected him to say that you couldn’t do anything but gape at him. Silco’s gaze stayed trained on your face, but there was a tightness around his eyes and mouth that spoke of nervousness. 

“If-” You broke off to clear your throat, trying to make your voice sound less waveringly uncertain. “If you aren’t being sincere, please don’t say that. Don’t joke about it or use it to manipulate me. Please.” 

“Manipulate you?” Silco repeated, sounding irritated. “Pet, you don’t seem to understand that I have done the very opposite. I have given you the keys to everything I can offer. I have given you the simplest possible way to manipulate me.” 

“I wouldn’t,” you assured him instantly. He lifted a brow and you repeated, “I wouldn’t.”

“And why wouldn’t you?” he asked. “You could everything you wanted without being required to give anything in return-”

“Because I care about you, Silco,” you snapped. 

Immediately afterward, a deathly silence fell in the office and you leapt to your feet. There was nothing to do but leave after that. 

You didn’t make it even halfway to the door before Silco caught your arm, holding you steady as he stared down into your face. 

“If you are being insincere, please don’t say that.” You might have thought he was mocking you if he hadn’t looked so terribly concerned.

“Silco, why would I possibly lie about that?” you asked. “If you’re right and you’ve given me everything, why would I lie about my feelings? To not use the keys you gave me?” 

“You-” It wasn’t often that you saw Silco thrown off his game, but he seemed to struggle to find the right words. “You love me?” 

Strictly speaking, neither of you had said anything about love. But in the privacy of your thoughts, you had realized weeks ago that your feelings for Silco had run deeper than you had ever assumed. There was no other reason you would still care about him after everything he had done. 

Besides, you had already come this far. 

“Yes.” 

Silco was studying you with the stunned, slightly suspicious look of a mad scientist watching a successful experiment and you were starting to think this entire meeting had been a mistake. 

“Maybe we should-” 

Your suggestion was left forever unfinished as Silco kissed you suddenly, deeply, and with such fierceness that it took your breath away. When your lungs were screaming, you pushed him away. He didn’t go far, staying close enough that you could feel his rapid breathing across your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Feels like we should talk about this.” 

Silco chuckled against your neck. “I can think of several more productive ways we could spend our time…” 

Everything in your body voiced a sudden and vehement opinion that Silco was right, and that sounded like a much better idea. You lifted your face for another kiss and Silco was quick to indulge you. 

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur. There was kissing and touching and the marvelous scent of Silco - how could you have missed one person so much? - and when it was over, you were lying naked on his bed. Silco was finishing stripping off his own clothes, eyes already devouring you with a predatory eagerness that probably should have scared you. 

When he was as bare as you, Silco joined you on the bed. He was on top of you almost immediately, kissing every bit of skin he could reach and exploring the rest with his wandering hands. You arched against him, fighting for as much contact as possible. It was like your body was drinking him in, soaking up everything you had been missing out on since your deal had been on pause. 

Silco’s fingers were even more dextrous than you remembered, plying your flesh and molding you still closer. If there was a breath of space between you, it was only so that he could sneak a touch into that same spot. You felt like you were on fire, but it only drove you to kiss him with more desperation. 

When you couldn’t stand it anymore, you reached down and took his length in a firm grip. The heat of him throbbed in your hand and Silco’s natural eye went heavy-lidded. He leaned forward to press another kiss to your lips, pulling away just far enough to whisper, “Missed you, pet.” 

It reminded you so strongly of the vivid dreams you had experienced that you nipped his lip to see if he would react like a real person. If you were dreaming again, you would be incredibly disappointed…

Silco pulled back with a garbled curse before plundering your mouth, delivering a wicked pinch to your hip at the same time. He took full advantage of your gasp to deepen the kiss even further. 

Without any clear thought or plan, you tightened your legs around his narrow hips and rolled, forcing him to the mattress while you straddled him from above. Your hands moved back down to his cock, teasing the head of it against the throbbing point of your clit. 

Silco bared his chipped teeth up at you. “You’re killing me, lovely.” 

“Can’t- mmmm… Can’t help it,” you babbled. “Feel so good…”

You bucked mindlessly on top of him until both of you were thoroughly slicked up and aching, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from the sensation long enough to line yourself up with him. 

That horrible, shining thread of tension broke for both of you at the same moment. Silco’s eyes narrowed and his fingers dug into your hips, lifting just as you planted your feet to do the same. 

Despite your best joint efforts, you weren’t properly aligned and the two of you slid against each other awkwardly. Silco growled while you let out what could only be termed a whine, but the frustration seemed to sharpen your concentration. The second time you tried to impale yourself on him, your breath caught at the feeling of his head notched against your entrance. 

Then you were lowering yourself and Silco was thrusting upward and he slid home with a teeth-rattling slam. If there was anyone else in The Last Drop, they would have heard your cry. It bounced off the high ceiling, echoing back to you in a cacophony of ecstasy that only drove you and Silco higher. 

If you had thought grinding against Silco felt wonderful, it was nothing compared to the tremendous depth of pleasure you felt at having him so deeply inside of you. All you could do was lift and lower, fucking yourself on him as Silco’s hands took some of your weight and tried to speed your movements. 

The slap of flesh meeting flesh was loud in the room, almost drowning out the shaking breaths that you and Silco were panting. His thumb found your clit, drawing a quick circle before he pressed down against the sensitive nerve cluster. It made you tighten desperately around him and Silco swore vividly. 

Of course, that didn’t stop him from repeating the torment. 

“I’m going- going to-” Your voice was far beyond breathy. It was almost reedy with the effort it was taking to stave off your impending orgasm.

Silco groaned, loud and hoarse. “Been dreaming about the way you feel when you come around my cock. Come for me, darling. Show me everything I’ve been missing.”

As if he had some sort of direct line into your nerves, the muscles of your core started to flutter and spasm, constricting around him like you were going to collapse in on yourself. 

That was more true than you realized. If there was ever a person in your life who felt like a black hole, it was Silco. Mysterious and fascinating and utterly unknowable. It was a strange series of thoughts to have during an orgasm, but your mind was locked into it by that point. Silco was such an outsized presence in your life, and to think that he loved you… well, it was almost beyond what your mind could comprehend. 

Then your mind went fuzzy and you didn’t have to worry about comprehending anything anymore. All that was left was pleasure and heat and the feeling of Silco fucking upward into you with every bit of force he could muster. He buried himself deep as he came, spreading more heat through your core and dripping out to smear between you. 

When your shaking thighs refused to hold you up any longer, you collapsed forward and onto his chest. Silco held you there, arms tight around you as you both caught your breath, then rolled you gently to one side so he could curl himself against your back. 

“I cannot believe you exist,” he murmured, tracing a tickling line over your temple. “And the idea that you love me… it is impossible.” 

You smiled despite yourself. “I feel the same way about you loving me.” 

He kissed your fingertips, humming softly as he folded your hand into his. 

Eventually, the flood of hormones receded enough for you to think clearly. “Silco? What does this-? Do we-? What, exactly, does this change?” 

Silco chuckled softly, and you felt the warmth of it against the nape of your neck. “As much or little as you’d like, pet. The Haven will be under my protection, but I can be as subtle about it as you’d like. And there will be no Shimmer in the neighborhood.” 

You thought that over for a while. The idea of Silco having a hand in the Haven again made you a little uncomfortable, but more for appearance’s sake than any real concern. And the majority of people had already proven that their morals were performative - you were horrible and the Haven was worthless… until they needed something. 

In the end, you relaxed against Silco. “This city isn’t going to know what hit it.” 

Silco laughed - a genuine, happy sound totally unlike the sardonic smirks you usually saw from him. “Too true, my little philanthropist. You and I united will be a force unlike anything they’ve ever seen.”

“I have a few ideas on where to start,” you confided, eyelids drooping with weariness. 

“I do, as well,” Silco agreed. “In fact, I’ve already begun the preparations for our final push for freedom.” 

You hummed, nearly asleep already. Silco pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder and you stirred yourself back to wakefulness. “Hmm? You have a final push worked out?” 

“Of course.” Silco sounded affectionately amused, as if it was adorable that you thought he would do anything without planning it fully. “I’ve hired a scientist to work out the details. He tells me the final product will take a few years to develop, but we have the time. We can continue our improvements to Zaun until then.” 

You were fully awake by that point, frowning blankly at the far wall. “Wait…” With some effort, you wiggled around until you were facing Silco directly. “You’ve hired someone to work on… what? What is this product? Sounds like you already have some things set in stone.” 

“Not quite, darling,” Silco assured you. “Just putting some pieces in place. I’ll still need to work out the final plan. In fact, I would welcome your help with that.”

“Okay, but say I want some of the details now,” you pushed. “What product are you having developed?” 

He sighed, rolling back on the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. “Very well, since you are so interested… It is a compound, similar to Shimmer in some ways, but not addictive. Not in the slightest.” 

Your hum was distinctly skeptical. “But what does it do?” 

“It mimics the increased adrenaline and reduced pain reception of the user,” Silco explained. “The adrenaline allows the user to push their body past many natural limits. They will accomplish incredible things.” 

You tensed, fighting the urge to sit upright. “So it turns people into super soldiers. But what about after the effects have subsided? Are there negative health impacts? And even if it isn’t chemically addictive, people can become obsessed with feeling like they have that kind of power.”

“It isn’t addictive because the user rarely survives,” Silco said, finally looking at you once more. You flinched, and he cupped your cheek. “This is precisely why I wished to spare you the details. You have a the ideals of a dreamer, despite your willingness to fight for a good cause.” 

“You’re planning to have people take a drug that will probably kill them.” You shook your head slowly. “What cause could be worth that? Scaring Piltover?” 

“No, I have no use for frightening them,” Silco said, grimacing. “They are fearful enough already. My soldiers would be dispensed to fight off guards, infiltrate the city, and clear the way to the Piltover Council.” 

“And-” Your pulse was thundering so hard that your voice shook with it. “And when you get to the Council?” 

“I kill them all, of course.” 

You gaped at that, horrified by the casual ease of his answer. Silco seemed oblivious to your feelings, kissing and nipping along the sensitive skin of your throat. 

“Silco, you can’t do that,” you said, gently pushing him away.

He blinked at you, the beginnings of irritation growing on his face. “And why, precisely, can I not?” 

“Because you can’t take Piltover by force!” 

“No, I cannot,” Silco agreed, a sly smile growing on his face. “Not yet, at least. But the initial trials are more than promising.”

“This isn’t an option,” you argued. “You’ll do even more harm if you come in by attacking the Council and using drugged soldiers as your muscle.” 

A muscle ticced in Silco’s jaw, and you changed your tone to a logical one instead. “Think of it this way: if you take the city by force, you’ll hold it for a while. You’re clever and you have the ability to draw followers. But if you present yourself as a powerful enemy, the people will combine forces to fight  against you. They will always see you as an invader to repel. You’ll never manage to quell the resistance to Zaun.” 

“Have you already forgotten that I’ll have an army powered by one of the most potent substances ever developed in this city?” Silco asked archly. 

“You’ll have a single-use army,” you countered. “And as more and more of them sacrifice themselves for this war, you’ll have fewer and fewer supporters willing to fight for you.” 

“Then I’ll make it so they have no choice but to fight for me,” Silco bit out. 

You furrowed your brows, studying him more intensely than you had since you first met. There was nothing but resolve in his expression, and you knew without further questioning that you wouldn’t change his mind. He was going to destroy Piltover - and, in doing so, he would destroy any hope for the nation of Zaun. 

With a sigh, you tossed back the covers he had tucked over you and made to rise from the bed. 

Silco caught at your wrist, pinning it to the mattress. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m not going to convince you to change your plan, and you’re not going to convince me that it’s a good idea.” You smiled sadly at him. “It seems we’ve finally found something we cannot agree on.” 

You tugged a little harder at your wrist, but Silco held firm. “But you love me and I love you. You’ve admitted as much.” 

“I do love you,” you agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I can support you in this. Whatever concessions you were going to make for the Haven, consider them either paid for or unaccepted. I think it would be best if we don’t meet up again.”

The cool slither against your skin was followed by two distinct clicks. You turned slowly, both knowing and dreading what you would see when you did: Silco had handcuffed you to one of the rings embedded in his headboard. 

“Silco, take this off of me.” You managed to keep your voice even despite the panic rising in your chest. 

“No.” 

You couldn’t help but pull against the metal encircling your wrist. It did nothing but make you feel more trapped. “Silco!”

“No,” he snapped again, voice harsh enough to make you stop struggling momentarily. “I lost you once. I don't intend to be so careless as to allow it to happen a second time.” 

“Silco,” you pleaded, striving for a less confrontational tone. “This is insane. I can't just stay locked in your room.”

“We love each other,” he reminded you, buttoning his pants. “Everything else will work out in time.”

And then he left, slipping shirtless into his office. You tugged fruitlessly at the handcuffs and tried to keep your breathing steady.

---

Author's Note - They were SO CLOSE to a happy ending. But Silco will always be Silco and our dear reader just can't handle some of his more pragmatic plots.

We're in the final stretch now, friends! Only a few more chapters until the end of this story.

Thank you for reading! If I can ask a favor, I haven't had the chance to watch any of Arcane Season Two yet, so if you choose to review (thank you!), please try to avoid including any spoilers. I can tell from my tumblr notifications on this story that Silco must be in S2, but I'm trying not to know how much or in what capacity. I'll try to be caught up by the time I post the next chapter.

I'll see you soon!